-1A Madgod's Realm
Prologue - Seeking a Cure
Life hadn't been normal in the two week period following the end of the Oblivion Crisis. Parts of the Imperial City were either damaged or destroyed. Where the Temple of the One once stood in the Temple District, a massive stone statue of Akatosh stood in its place. To many, its purpose is unclear but a few brave scholars have offered conclusions.
One conclusion says that the statue will serve as a warning to the Daedric gods if they ever decide to attempt an invasion of Nirn. Another suggests that the Empire doesn't need Emperors, protective amulets, or Dragonfires anymore--just faith in the Nine Divines. To many citizens, this makes sense because the bowl where the Dragonfire burned was destroyed in the struggle between Mehrunes Dagon and the avatar of Akatosh.
Many lost their lives that day. Martin Septim was gone, having transformed into Akatosh but has been (for the most part) universally hailed as the greatest Emperor since Tiber Septim. Captain Steffan and Baurus of the Blades were killed in the last two battles of the Crisis. Others had simply disappeared--after the battle in the Imperial City, Uvani Lloros aka Nerevar-Reborn vanished without a trace as had Jauffre, Grandmaster of the Blades. Only two men survived the ordeal--Caius Cosades and Aldric of Rihad, who came to be known as the Champion of Cyrodiil.
But as the provinces rejoiced, no one considered the psychological impact on the Champion. Some of his best friends--the only friends he had ever known--were dead and he couldn't bring them back. He had found treachery within his own family which had resulted in the death of his mother. Worse still, he thought he had found a safe haven in the Ayleid ruin of Vilverin, but it was a false hope indeed.
Aldric had been attacked by Vicente Valtieri, the vampire who had almost ended his life in the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary in Cheydinhal. It was an act of revenge for the slaughter of his Brothers and Sisters by Aldric's hand. The Redguard managed to turn the tables on the vampire but at a terrible price--he too had been transformed into a creature of the night.
Once a man, he was now an abomination of evil, having to feed to keep people from recognizing the Champion for what he really was. But Caius, ever the understanding type and having seen so much in his time as the Blades representative for Vvardenfell, visited Aldric one day to bring news of a possible cure.
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Fate had an interesting sense of humor. After all he had done, the Nine had decided to play a practical joke on him by letting him get bit by that piece of shit. 'Oh thank you for saving Tamriel, but we want to piss you off.' Some joke, he thought.
Even though his anger at the gods was strong, he did not choose to inject the poor bandit with the disease that was currently wrecking his thoughts and his life. He could at least spare the man from that.
He had clamped a hand over the Breton's mouth--as is, the man's screaming had grown tiresome. The blood dripped from his lips as he viciously sucked the lifeblood from the bandit's neck. His preoccupation on his anger, however, caused him to accidentally bite out the man's jugular vein. Fresh blood exploded from the bite, coating his face and chest and quickly killing the bandit.
A shuffle of feet nearby caused the man to dive into the bushes. He peeked up just a bit and saw the familiar figure of Caius Cosades holding a torch…as well as one of a man he did not recognize. He felt slightly embarrassed that he had been caught feeding, and so felt a need to explain himself. "It was a bandit. He was trying to break in--"
"No need to explain yourself, Aldric," Caius said. "Please, come out. I have someone who knows of a cure."
This made the Redguard step out from his hiding place. He looked back at the house had found and acquired. Deep in the West Weald, this isolated house had become a sanctuary for him in the two weeks that followed the Oblivion Crisis. A three-story house, it reminded him of Bruma's architecture. Aldric, the so-called Champion of Cyrodiil, rarely emerged unless he was feeding. Caius had continually visited every day to inform him of the latest news.
In the days that had passed, Daedra worshipping in the Summerset Isle had stopped but the boycott on Imperial goods was continuing. However, the provinces were rejoicing but one rumor suggested that Skyrim and Morrowind were on the warpath. It seems that the happiness didn't last long.
"Who's that?" Aldric spat.
The man with Caius stepped forward into Caius' torch and Aldric immediately recognized the man as Janus Hassildor, Count of Skingrad. He was wearing his trademark suede shirt with linen pants and his black hair slicked back. When he and Aldric had met during the Oblivion Crisis, the reportedly reclusive Count had struck the Redguard as strange; even more so now, considering that he looked just like…him.
"Hello again, Aldric," the Count said. "I believe we both seek a common goal in regards to our…special conditions."
"You're a vampire, too?" Aldric asked with mild surprise.
The Count was taken aback by the blunt question, something he wasn't used to. "Yes, I have been for quite some time. This is what I want to discuss. May we come in?"
What are you going to tell me? the Redguard thought but didn't say. That you sympathize? Or that I have no hope?
Instead Aldric nodded and the Count and the Blade followed him inside the house. The interior was bare on the first and second floors save for the necessary furniture. The third floor was basically an attic with storage crates and as such would remain untouched.
Aldric directed the two to a table in the center of the room. He walked to a wine rack near the table and pulled a bottle of Tamika's West Weald Wine off the rack. He popped the top off, sat down with his guests, and took a sip.
"Let's talk, shall we?"
Caius nodded to Janus, who took the cue to begin. "Well, you and I both have vampirism, but so does my wife. Have you been feeding regularly?"
The Champion nodded. "Of course. I don't want the sun to kill me."
"Well, my wife refused to feed and slipped into a coma as a result. I've been seeking a cure for the longest time, and I may have found one. I figure I would tell you because you're most likely miserable and because Caius has a task for you.
"My sources have told me that a witch of Glenmoril is said to be living somewhere near the upper Corbolo River. Talk to her, find a cure, and bring back two potions to cure vampirism. One for you, one for my wife. Do you have a map?"
Aldric nodded and pulled out his world map from his pocket along with the grease pencil. He rolled it out before the Count and handed him the pencil. Janus briefly studied the map and marked a place on the right side of the Corbolo River and then wrote the word "Drakelowe" on the outer margin of his map.
The Redguard vampire was surprised by what Count Hassildor had requested. "Why not a cure for yourself?"
"I suffer enough as it is," he replied sadly, "but my wife suffers more. It is the least I can do for her."
"Thank you for your time, Aldric," the Spymaster said. "I will speak to you about what I need you to do after you've been cured. I assume that you'll be chomping at the bit to get rid of this curse, so I'm not going to stop you. But for now, we must leave."
The pair wordlessly stood and left as quickly as they had come. Aldric sat alone for a few minutes, looking into his bottle of wine with a focus on finding answers. When he found nothing, he gulped down the rest of the alcoholic drink and threw the bottle into the nearest wall. It shattered into dozens of fragments that twinkled in the candlelight.
The Redguard knew where Drakelowe was but had forgotten to mark it down, so he gave silent thanks to Skingrad's Count for doing so. He began to mentally tick off things he would need for the journey ahead.
A glance at his amateur alchemy lab across the room gave him an idea. It was a long shot, but bringing some random ingredients for the witch couldn't hurt. After all, witches were constantly experimenting and researching, so maybe it would benefit the witch.
Aldric stood and approached the table, grabbing his empty rucksack off a hook on the way over, and stuffed five Grand Soul Gems he had procured inside, as well as a few sprigs of bloodgrass he had picked up from the remnants of Oblivion gates, and six nightshade petals. Then he changed his clothes, packed an extra set, and ran up the stairs to where his bed was. He put his battered set of ebony armor on, noting the various nicks and dents and burn marks from his various battles. He strapped on the sheath, put the long-sword inside, and hustled back downstairs. The last thing he did was grab his world map off the table before heading outside into the darkness.
Aldric figured it would be best to start now while there was still some night in the sky. It would be a long journey.
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Being a vampire had its ups and downs. On the plus side, Aldric had become stronger and more in touch with his environment. He was a predator who hunted man and mer--and in the two weeks that had passed, he realized it wasn't him. His father had always said to be his own person, but this…this wasn't him.
Aldric's sense of morality had dulled, leaving him a nonbeliever and an alcohol drinker--two hedonistic traits he had acquired since the Crisis ended. His outlook on life was grim and he ached for a sexual encounter, which was denied due to his condition.
But with the promise of a cure, his hopes were high and he would not pass this opportunity up.
Hell, maybe I can reclaim some of my honor, he thought doubtingly as he crossed over a bridge toward the ramshackle house known as Drakelowe.
It had taken him nearly two days to reach the out-of-the-way locale, as well as numerous feedings, but at last he had arrived. The architecture of the house resembled some of the ones he had seen in Chorrol's lower class section.
As Aldric approached the front door, visions of a crazy old woman stirring up a brew in a cauldron entered his mind. He couldn't help but grin.
"You're insane," he said out loud, followed by a short bark of laughter.
He rapped on the door five times, and the door opened three seconds later to reveal a young Breton woman with white hair. The young lady stared at the large Redguard for a minute, then waved him inside.
The house was in a sad state of disarray, with pieces of furniture throw about the room. Various alchemy ingredients dotted the room, as did the shape of potion bottles…or possibly poisons.
The witch fiddled about with a few stray ingredients before turning to her visitor. "What brings you to Drakelowe, child?"
"A cure for vampirism," he replied bluntly.
"Oh my." She approached the Redguard and pushed her index finger and thumb into his mouth. She withdrew after feeling the fangs, wiped the saliva on a cloth, and tapped a finger to her chin.
"I need two vials, if I failed to mention that." Aldric righted a fallen chair and took a seat. "Do you have any sujamma?"
The Glenmoril witch nodded and walked to a cupboard. "The name's Melisande, by the way."
She pulled out a bronze, dusty bottle and tossed it to her guest, who caught it one-handed and popped the cork with his thumb. After taking a sip and smacking his lips approvingly, he said, "I'm Aldric."
Melisande smiled sweetly. "Such a strong, bold name. I like it," she stated. She began to walk about her home tidying things up. "So tell me, why do you need two vials?"
Aldric was somewhat distracted as she bent over to pick some fallen items up, taking in the view of her lovely rear. "I, uh, need it for myself as well as for a…friend of a friend."
She stood upright and Aldric averted his gaze as she turned around to face him. You really need to find a woman, he told himself.
"Ah, I understand. Well, I know just the things to cure your affliction."
The Redguard vampire took another sip of his liquor. "I'm listening."
"Well first, I need five Grand Soul Gems," Melisande stated, righting some more fallen furniture. "It matters not if they contain a soul."
Just my luck! Aldric thought with a smile. He reached into his rucksack for the oval shapes and pulled them out. "I knew it was a good idea to bring these," he said, holding them up in his hands.
The Glenmoril witched smiled that warm comforting smile and Aldric couldn't help but feel a certain desire. The fact that she was young made it all the better. You n'wah, knock it off!
"These will do just fine," she said, taking the gems and putting them on a nearby table filled with alchemy ingredients. "This isn't everything I need, though."
When Aldric indicated he was listening, she explained that for two vials she would need six gloves of garlic, five nightshade petals, two shoots of bloodgrass, the blood of an Argonian, and the ashes of an ancient vampire.
The Redguard was so fortunate that he had brought the bloodgrass and nightshade with him, for Oblivion only knows if he would've been able to find it at this point. However, the garlic, the blood, and the ashes were a problem. Yet Melisande was full of surprises.
"Garlic is quite abundant in Skingrad, I hear. Maybe you'll find an Argonian there as well." She chuckled at this before continuing. "As for the vampire, I've also heard something about that as well. Hindaril is a powerful vampire living in Redwater Slough, which if I remember quickly is on the north shore of the Panther River. I'm sure you have a map that tells you where all of that is."
She rummaged through a cupboard that had broken off the wall, once again bending over and giving Aldric another view of her rear. He slapped himself real quick on the face. Resist, Aldric. Now's not the time.
"Take this knife," she said. "It's specifically crafted to make the target bleed. It'll be useful for the Argonian."
He took it graciously and put it in the special pouch where Widowshire would've been, had he not lost it in Mankar Camoran's neck in Paradise. "I'll be back eventually. Thank you very much for doing this."
"It's not a problem at all," Melisande replied with a small smile.
Aldric smiled in return and turned to leave Drakelowe and begin his tasks.
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Aldric's heightened sense of smell, combined with the whiff he had unknowingly picked up on Count Hassildor, led him to Skingrad, confirming the witch's hunch.
He had to sneak around at night, breaking into people's houses and finding garlic cloves in cellars, most likely to prevent the smell of mold and mildew from wafting throughout. He had six cloves in no time.
As he exited Skingrad's chapel where he had found the last clove, his extra senses twitching; something was going on at Castle Skingrad. He could almost feel the blood of an Argonian being spilled, but at the hands of someone he couldn't see.
He broke into a sprint for the castle, leaving some of the night patrol bewildered and stunned at the speed of the Redguard.
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"I'd like to visit the Argonian prisoner, please."
"Sorry, sir," the castle jailor said with a monotone. "Not without a specific reason."
Aldric could tell that the man looked bored as well as tired, so he reached for a small satchel on his hip containing thirty septims and he jiggled it in front of the jailor's face. "Is this a good reason?"
The Imperial snatched it greedily and quickly hid it from view. "Go down the stairs, make a right, he's all the way at the end. But make it quick!"
The Redguard smiled. "Thank you."
As he rounded the corner, Aldric's heightened sense of smell picked up Argonian blood. A trail of it was on the floor leading to another part of the jail. He focused intensely on his third eye and the ghostly purple form of a prone figure was merrily snoring away in bed close by.
Aldric silently crept up the hall to a small pool of blood. He dipped his fingers in it and sucked the thick substance off--it was definitely Argonian blood. He uncorked the empty sujamma bottle he had kept and scooped up as much blood as possible.
When he was done, he put the bottle back in his rucksack and took a few moments to slurp some of the blood up. He felt that his face was losing feeling and so felt he should feed. After replenishing himself, he thanked the jailor and left the castle perimeter. He had an appointment with a vampire.
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Aldric had found Redwater Slough with little difficulty due to helpful directions from a scout in Bravil, and now found himself sneaking around amongst a small clan of vampires like himself--on the ceiling. He figured he'd wait for the vampire to emerge on his own--he had masked his scent using the skin of a boar he had killed on the way to the Slough--and so his mind wandered.
He often wondered how his life would be if events had occurred differently. Probably not here, he thought bitterly. I'd be doing the task that Caius has for me.
Aldric's thoughts soon turned to the old Blade. The old Imperial had seen so much history change, even having a hand in drafting it. The return of Nerevare in Vvardenfell, the Oblivion Crisis…perhaps even other notable events.
So what could it be this time? he wondered, keeping an eye out for an Altmer.
Nothing unusual had occurred except for a strange door opening in the Niben Bay as well as the attack on Anvil's Chapel. That was something he had picked up while in Bravil and something he didn't much care about. The Nine had fucked him over by twisting Fate into making him a vampire, so no love was lost there. But could the two be connected? Aldric had not a clue as he hung to the ceiling.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sudden arrival of an Altmer in the room. The smell that drifted through the air was thick with mold, as if something that should've been asleep had just woke up from a nap. Aldric used his third eye to make the form visible.
Hindaril's purple figure glowed beneath him as the Redguard vampire weighed his options, but he was cut short. The High Elf was staring right up at him, teeth gnashing and a low growl emitting from his mouth.
Aldric detached from the ceiling and quickly rotated so his feet were positioned down. He landed on the vampire hard and withdrew the bleeder dagger. The vampire started thrashing about but Aldric's immense frame prevented Hindaril from standing.
"I just need your ashes," the Redguard whispered, cutting deep into the vampire's neck. Strangely, no blood burst forth to spray the ground.
The vampire fought back even more but he gradually began to lose steam as his head became severed from his body, which turned into ash. Aldric gathered the ancient man's ashes into a cloth, and to his surprise, found not a single weapon within his robe.
He must not have been expecting company, Aldric thought. But there were still other figures that glowed purple within the cave and his goal was completed, so he retraced his steps to Redwater Slough's entrance; the Redguard didn't want to press his luck.
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Two days later, Aldric was cured and he couldn't have felt better. He felt like a new man and his outlook on life had improved significantly, yet it did nothing to help heal the scars of losing friends and family.
He strode into Castle Skingrad with his head held high, approaching Count Hassildor's Argonian stewart Hal-Liurz. All he had to do was hold the vial containing the cure in her face. "Right this way," she said. "They've been expecting you."
She walked fast and Aldric was slightly annoyed at having to keep up as she took him outside toward a heavily-locked, secret door to the Chamber of the Lost.
Such a charming name, he thought sarcastically.
Beyond the doorway he saw three figures crouched over the body of what had to be the Countess.
"Ah, good," the voice of Caius Cosades said. "You're here."
"Come here, quick," Count Hassildor urged. Aldric hustled over and handed the dark blue bottle to Janus, taking a good look at the man's wife. She still had some youthfulness in her face and was dressed impeccably with her arms folded over her chest. Melisande was kneeling beside the Count and Caius, much to his surprise.
"Hello again," she said seriously. "Good. Now, I need everyone to stand back."
Janus retreated to the left side of the room, and Aldric and Caius went to the right. "What's she here for?" the Redguard whispered.
"The Countess is basically not living--not drinking blood, for some, will only advance to the next stage of vampirism. For her, it put her into a coma. She's been like this for over fifty years."
"By the gods…" Aldric couldn't imagine how the Count felt. "Janus said that she's suffered enough."
"Indeed," the Spymaster stated grimly. "Our Glenmoril friend is going to revive the Countess long enough to take the cure."
At that moment, Melisande began to chant in a language that Aldric didn't understand. Blue light swirled above her, guided by her hands. She whirled the magicka in a circle and gradually laid both hands on the Countess' head.
Her eyes immediately snapped open and she turned to her husband. "Janus?" she asked weakly.
The Count couldn't hold back his tears despite them being bloody. "Rona," he replied, now at her side squeezing her hand tightly. He forced a weak smile. "Drink this, please."
He held the blue bottle to her lips and tilted it back. Her face became alive with color and her eyes became normal. She too teared up as she held Janus' hand.
"Thank you, my love," she stated. "I have been freed from my curse but I fear I am too weak. Who helped with this deed?"
Aldric stepped toward her body and kneeled. "I did, Your Grace. Aldric of Rihad."
She smiled. "You have a kind heart, Aldric of Rihad. I thank you." She looked at her husband. "Janus…I will always love you."
Her grip on his hand loosened and her eyes closed for the last time, never to blink again. The Count wrapped her in a tight hug, bloody tears flowing from his eyes and staining her dress.
"I love you too," he replied, pressing his face against her right cheek.
It was a touching, sad moment for a man who had never been in love, for Aldric had never seen it in within his own family. He stood, looking back at Caius who shook his head. The Spymaster began to head for the door, prompting for the Redguard to follow.
"It's a damned shame," Cosades muttered.
Aldric gripped the handle on the door, but stopped to take a final look at the Count and his wife. The man was quietly weeping blood, and it was painful to watch.
As he closed the door to the Chamber of the Lost, he found the title of the room to be unfortunately true for a Count who had loved his wife so much.
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"So tell me, what is this mission?" Aldric asked the grizzled old Blade. They were heading south toward Aldric's house in the West Weald.
"Well, I'm sure you're aware of the door that has opened in the Niben Bay," Caius stated. When the Champion nodded, he continued. "Apparently, an island with a door now rests where none had before. If I didn't know better, I'd say it was a Daedric god mucking about. The Count of Bravil has a guard posted on the island."
"Joyful," Aldric said with a small smile that quickly faded. "So let me guess…if the door is Daedric in nature, you want me to poke my head in and say hello?"
"Something like that. Ocato's order, actually. We've already had one Daedric invasion, he says, so the possibility of another isn't appealing. As Champion of Cyrodiil, the task falls to you."
Aldric was quietly considering that scenario, and it did not appeal to him either. Nevertheless, Caius wouldn't have asked if he didn't feel that he was qualified.
"When do I start?"
"Preferably now, but it's been a long day, so get some rest first."
"How will I keep you updated on the situation?" Aldric asked. It was one thing he would need to know.
Caius Cosades grinned. "What goes in eventually comes out, right?"