Yo! Pointless yet epic story! Read it or feel my squirrelly wrath! *Ahem* I mean, sit back and enjoy my three R's, Relax, Read and Review. Enjoy this awesome story! … please?
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Chapter 1: Birth Of A God
Oblivion. The infinite world of worlds. The demonic, magical universe that surrounded the mortal plane Mundus, and in fact all mortal planes, because yes, there are many and many are their names, Mundus, Nirn, Earth, Gaia, Brackenwood, Oceanis, all a mortal plane, all inhabited by mortals of some kind.
But this is not a story mortals, or their worlds, at least not yet. It is the tale of a god… a demonic god, known as Daedra. A Daedra Lord, A Daedric Prince. Freshly born, uniquely powerful, neither good, nor evil… or perhaps, that is up for you to decide.
Deep within the Realms of Oblivion, in a small, and normally unimportant and hardly worth noticing pocket dimension was slowly coming to an end. But that is not what was important, what was important was what was killing it.
A Cosmic Storm. At least, that was what the Gods had named it. It is what happens when two Realms, or planes of existence collide and create a new, smaller and uninhabitable Realm, with the spark of power in it, which then starts to quickly grow, and consume the world around it. It grows into a huge, powerful storm-like horror. Lightning-like bolts of energy sparks forth, hundreds of shades of color bounced around as if dancing, sparks of unexplainable divine essence and whirling sparks of life that then ended in a nanosecond. It was both deadly and beautiful.
This anomaly, this power among the heavens hardly went unnoticed, and as it reached the peak of its disturbance in the Planes of Oblivion, the Daedric Lords of Oblivion decided that it would be a good idea to see what this Storm may bring.
The first to arrive was Azura, Mistress of Dawn and Dusk, Lady of Twilight, Master of the magic between dimensions. Taking the form of a beautiful Dunmer maiden with short black hair, shinier and finer than silk. She wore a flowing blue silk dress and tasteful gold chains hanging from her neck and wrists, and a beautiful, yet simple golden tiara. Her mouth was drawn into a thoughtful smirk and her glowing red eyes were filled with love, mystery and a hint of trickery.
The Daedric Prince, or Princess if you prefer, yet such distinctions hardly matter to gods that change their appearances on a whim such as the Daedra, looked up and her smirk changed into a frown.
She, along with many Daedra, knew what such Storms meant. They meant, nearly anything could happen. Something may come through, plucked from somewhere by the energies, Realms may be destroyed, something long forgotten might be awakening, or something may be even be being born. Cosmic Storms, and a good dose of divine energy were how a few gods were created.
A feeling of dread sunk into the Mistress of Twilight as that thought crossed her mind. She had enough rivals as it was.
Still… there was little to do now… she opted to simply stay, and wait for her Brethren to appear, as she could sense them approaching.
Soon after Azura, came Boethiah, Duke of Deceit, Prince of Plots and Combat, also taking the form of a Dunmer, male this time, with flowing silver hair worn in a warriors tail. With great muscles and a tall frame, he stepped from his portal. Bare chested, wearing armored greaves, boots, a long red silk cape and hefting a huge battle-axe. His glowing white eyes flashed dangerously and the air about him was filled with whispers of treachery and blood-lust.
Then came Mephala, the Webspinner, The Dread Deceiver, who ruled over Death and Intricate Plans. A young, purple skinned woman with four arms, all with purple, poison-tipped nails. And wearing a dress made from the darkest silks. Her long flowing black hair constantly whipped about, as if it were fire, and was braided with silver chains in the shape of spider webs. Her eyes were narrow and glowed red with constant planning.
The three allies regarded each other for a brief moment before turning their attention back to the crackling vortex. As the energies continued to churn more Princes soon came.
Molag Bal, the King of Rape, The Great Corrupter, with the torso of a pale-skinned man, legs of a furred beast, arms of a great scaled monster and head of a horned crocodile came stalking through his portal hissing as his beady, cruel eyes analyzed the energy, his slimy forked tongue hissing from his massive jaws and his great, hooked tail thrashed around angrily.
Mehrunes Dagon, Lord of Destruction, a great, hulking giant of a warrior with bulging muscles, red skin, four horns, many fangs and tusks, two-toed clawed feet, four muscular arms each with different weapon, axe, sword, fist and claws, and dressed only in a armored loin cloth. Fresh from his defeat in the mortal plane he gazed up at the Storm and snarled.
Malacath, the Keeper of Oaths and Outsider Prince soon arrived as well. Taking the visage of one of his favored people, the Orcs. But much taller, muscular and grander than any Orc could ever hope to be. Dressed in black leather pants, skull-crushing black boots and wielding a large, flash-cleaving, curved blade resting on his shoulder. His angry brown eyes turning too and fro.
The three Daedra commonly referred to as the most 'evil' of the lot looked at each other with a mixture of wariness, disgust and hatred before returning their gaze to the swirling mass of matter and energy.
Clavicus Vile, the Daedric Lord of granting wishes and power, through deals and contracts, soon arrived, in the form of a small, jovial man whose mouth seemed to be formed in a permanent grin. He looked like a perfectly normal, kind little fellow, save for the mad glint in his eye and the pair of devil-like horns growing from his head. Following him was his faithful companion, Barbas, his shape changing black hound, whose current size was nearly larger than his master.
Sanguine, the Prince of Debauchery, Lust and Excess soon appeared on the scene. A short, portly man with red skin, a large nose and a small pair of horns, wearing a white toga speckled with wine and food stains. Swigging a sip of potent booze down his throat he stumbled a bit out of his portal before sitting down on a patch of nothingness a bit away from anyone else.
Sheogorath, the once mortal champion of Cyrodiil, now King of Madness and Insanity arrived as well. Once a mortal, he grew to his station and was a true, immortal Daedra. The Madgod took on the form of a young man with a head of brown curly hair and a brown goatee. He was dressed smartly in a pair of brown breeches, a white shirt and green tunic with gold buttons and twirling a cane with an eye set in the handle. He whistled a tuneless song as he strolled up to inspect the anomaly.
The three Daedric Lords who cared not for good or evil, but merely did what they wanted and played with mortals looked at each other good naturedly before returning their gazes to the vortex.
Namira, Princess of the Ancient Darkness, Oldest Shadows and Forgotten Places stepped from her portal, followed by a few of her imp-like servants. Taking the form of a tall, beautiful woman, with pale skin, wild, dark blue hair with solid black eyes, and wearing an evening gown of the deepest, darkest shadows. She stepped forward, her imps staying a fair distance behind her, away from the Storm.
A swirling portal opened and from the depths came Vaermina, Daedric Princess of Dreams and Nightmares, who visits all mortals as they sleep and dream, and visits upon many of her favorites and enemies alike, her gift of fear. Taking the form of a hunch-back old woman, with gnarled and wrinkled skin, long silver hair and glowing purple eyes. She held a metal staff with the visage of a bat with outstretched wings on the head.
Next came Nocturnal, the Night Mistress, Lady of Night and Darkness, and the Fears that come with it. She appeared as she always had, and always will, a lovely young woman, scantily clad in a dark blue hooded cloak, long black hair with silver streaks, glowing blue eyes that held the promise of darkness, and a flock of ravens with red eyes circling about her.
The three Dark Ladies bowed to each other before joining the other Princes.
Next came Peryite, the Daedric Prince of Pestilence and Disease, whose love was ordering the lower and most chaotic planes of Oblivion, and spreading his diseases throughout the mortal world. He took the shape of a noble, serpentine dragon, with a long neck, green scales, muscular back legs, small front legs and glowing silver eyes.
Soon after Came Hermaeus Mora, the Daedric Prince of Knowledge, Scrying, and the Tides of Fate. Unlike many Princes he did not take a humanoid form, instead preferring to live as a writhing heap of slimy green flesh, wriggling tentacles, dozens of glowing yellow eyes and snapping lobster-like claws. He writhed towards the storm, many Princes opting to move a bit way.
The next to appear was probably the most feared of all the Daedric Princes. Jyggalag. The Daedric Prince of Order. He who was once cursed as Sheogorath, before being freed by the current Prince of Madness. He was a colossal knight, with dull gray skin, sharp features, gray eyes with black square-shaped pupils. He wore crystalline armor and wielded a great crystal sword. Many Princes feared he would take vengeance for their betrayal of him… but that was a plot for another time.
The three lovers of order looked at each other and gave one another a respectful glare, or tried to in Mora's case.
Jyggalag opted to stand next to Sheogorath, his only true ally. Order and Madness, allied. Jyggalag called it Order to be allied, Sheogorath called it Madness. Both were happy.
The next portal appeared, and out stepped Hircine, Lord of the Woods, Father of Man Beasts, and Prince of the Hunt, the sport of the Daedra. Taking the guise of a tall, muscular, tanned man in nothing more than a brown loincloth and a helmet made of a deer's skull, complete with antlers, he made his way towards the Storm. His clawed feet scrapping the nonexistent ground and his clawed hands grasped his hunting spear.
Finally, Meridia, Lady of Infinite Energies, Prince of Life and Enemy of the Undead. The wayward solar daughter was a beautiful young girl, with golden skin, long flowing blonde hair, and wearing a gorgeous green silk gown. Her glowing golden eyes surveyed her rivals and walked forward, her bare feet seemingly breathing small sparks of life into this dieing realm.
Seeing as they were the last to arrive, the Lay of Life and the Lord of the Hunt nodded to each other in respect, seeing as they were the last to arrive and one could not survive without the other.
As the last of the Daedra Lords arrived, the vortex began to react even more wildly. It crackled and boomed and shed deadly energy at an even greater rate, many of the assembled powers thought to stop this, to stop whatever was coming through, or awakening, or being born. But they were divine beings, and they knew the danger of such a Cosmic Storm. One good burst of energy might destroy the Storm. But the side effects were unknowable, it might be the catalyst for an even greater event, or allow whatever it is to happen, happen, or it might even take the attacker, or ALL of them with it, to the depths of the nothingness. And none, not even the Mad Sheogorath, was willing to risk that.
Suddenly, the Storm stopped. It didn't dissipate, it didn't vanish, merely… stopped. As if time itself had slowed to a crawl, and then… stopped. Bursts of lightening-like energy were still rolling forth from it, sparks of divine essence were still in its center, the multitude of colors was still visible, but they were simply… stuck.
Suddenly, the storm began to start up again and took on the form of a twister, in less than a second it then took the form of a sphere of perfect energy, quickly getting smaller and smaller, all of this was happening so fast the Daedra Lords were unsure what to do. As the ball of energy was approaching the size of a marble, what looked like a small explosion went off in its center and soon erupted through and soon the entire space of the pocket realm was filled with the bright white light and rushing energy of it, if they knew what one was, the Daedra might have compared it to an atomic bomb going off and being in its dead center.
What would of utterly destroyed a mortal merely frazzled and perhaps dazed the divine creatures who soon shook themselves to see what was now left of the massive Cosmic Storm.
All eyes widened, and even a few audible gasps were uttered as a figure bathed in light now stood where the Eye of the Cosmic Storm once raged.
Slowly the light faded, and all could see this new being, and sense quite clearly its essence and aura… Daedric… defiantly… Daedric.
This new being took on a male appearance, and stood a good seven and a half feet tall, towering over some of the shorter Daedric Princes. The top half of his body was that of a muscular, lean, mortal man, but his lower body, legs, waist and all were that of a man-sized goat. Long, double-jointed, brown furred and complete with sharp, black, cloven hooves. Around his waist he wore a red warriors kilt, with one side longer than the other and armor plates sewn into the fabric, with large green jewels sewn into the waistline. His visible skin was pale and riddled with scars that were crudely stitched together, with a rather large and ugly one crossing over his chest. His arms were long and powerful, with large hands with long fingers that ended in black claws. In one hand he held a metal staff with cloth wrappings all along the shaft and on both ends was a two-pronged blade, giving it the appearance of a staff, spear and axe all at the same time. His face was riddled with sewn-up scars just as his body was. His mouth seemed to lack lips, as if they had been cut, or torn off, and jutting from his jaws were small, razor-like fangs. His nose, if it could be called that, was mostly missing, skeletal, with just two nostril holes. A red cloth was wrapped around his head, acting as a blindfold, but the assembled Princes had the feeling he could see well enough. Finally, his height was added even further by the two, two foot long, slightly curved horns that sprouted from his forehead, both of them an ivory white.
The new creature suddenly moved, all of the gods tensing as he did so. But they saw he was merely stretching his limbs, and flexing his muscled. The new Daedra let out a sigh of satisfaction with every pop of a joint, and crack of bone. He stopped and began looking over his newfound body, apparently very pleased with it.
Finally, one of the Daedra Lords decided to make the first move, Azura, bracing herself and stepping forward slowly, the eyes of all her brothers and sisters on her.
As she got nearer the newborn god stopped looking himself over and quickly held up his weapon, in a graceful, yet savage arc, one of the blade edge's directly in front of the Dadra Lord of Twilight.
"Calm yourself friend… we are all the same here." Azura stated quietly, in a voice that seemed to put the newfound creature at ease, slowly, he lowered his bladed staff but kept his hand clutched around it, ready to deliver a blow if necessary.
"Tell us friend… who are you?" question the Daedric Prince of Dusk and Dawn, voicing the question that all of the assembled gods had on their minds.
The Daedra in question lowered his head to the ground, as if thinking of the answer to this for the first time, which, actually, he was. He slowly lifted his head up and cast a look upon his greeters. And then… he spoke. In a voice like shattering glass, in a voice like crackling lightning, in a voice like stone scrapping metal, he spoke.
"I am Jast… Daedric Prince of Magic, Sorcery, Secrets, Trials, The Un-Kept Oath and The Unseen Truth."
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