Welcome, welcome.
No-one knows what caused the initial problem with Yggdrasil, the World Tree. All that is known is that at some point in the multiverse's "past", Yggdrasil was damaged. In order to stablize the various universes, the gods (or Admins) put them into a "safe-mode" of sorts, where time is looped during an important portion of the universes time-line.
Originally, seven universes were started looping by the Admins: Ranma 1/2, Harry Potter, Naruto, Bleach, Evangelion, Sailor Moon, and Slayers. Other universes followed afterwards.
And now, long after the event known as 'The Crash', and long after The Doctor's own Awakening, it's a sub-branch of the Elder Scrolls' universe that's entering the Infinite Time Loops.
Do you want a nice slice of cheese?
1.01
Sheogorath was essentially bored those last few days. Or weeks.
Or maybe was it decades?
Anyway, he hated being bored. He was the Mad God, not the Bored one. He shouldn't be bored.
He had been bored from time to time, a long time ago. But he had been someone else, a Hero, under another name. He had then given himself his title, and he'd been Sheogorath ever since.
And Sheogorath wasn't supposed to be bored. He was supposed to spread madness around, to twist and turn and decimate and eat cheese. Hmmm, sweet, sweet cheese.
Yet, he was bored and desperately in need of an occupation. His last vacation had ended with Pelagius cured by the Dragonborn – Pelagius! Sane! that was maddening. – and his time spent doing the fishstick brought to an abrupt end.
And now, he was seated on his throne, in his palace of New Sheot, closely observing his hands as there was just nothing better to do.
What to do, what to do?
Maybe Haskill would know...
"Well, well, well... What do we have here?"
Oh, he had a visitor. He loved having visitors, they were a perfect excuse to decree another cheese-for-everyone-day.
He brought his gaze upward to meet a handsome man in a purple costume, with silver hairs and a strange set of eyes. Gold, with vertical slits, like a cat.
Wait, he knew these eyes. They were HIS eyes.
Was the visitor a mirror?
No, no, an eye-thief from an alternate dimension.
Or maybe...
"Another me huh?" said the standing Sheogorath.
"It looks like it, yes. I'm a future me, I remember being me once. But I mustn't be me yet." answer the seated one.
"I see my point."
Keeping a conversation with oneself by using the first person every single time would have been disturbing to most. For Sheogorath and Sheogorath, it was just Tuesday.
He both shrugged.
"Well, the more the merrier I suppose."
"True. And I need another throne for me."
"Why? I'm already in it."
"I'm in my palace, in my New Sheot. Thus this is my throne. I need another one."
"Fair enough."
One Sheogorath rose from his seat and fingers were snapped.
"That's a goat, not a throne."
"And?"
"Just stating." answered Sheogorath, reclaiming his throne. Which sadly, wasn't a goat.
"So, what do I want to do now?" said the other Sheogorath from his living seat.
"No idea. Do I have one?"
"If I remember correctly, the era shall be coming to an end soon."
"It shall, yes."
"And I already sent my invitation to Mundus?" he asked to his throned self.
"I most certainly did." he gloated.
"Then I'll come around in a few days."
"I'm talking about me, right?"
"Why, yes. Not me me, just old me. Me me will come around, eventually."
"And the other me?"
He shivered, pictures of Jyggalag plaguing his mind.
"Haven't seen me in a bunch of centuries." He answered, a wicked smile on his face.
He summoned a whole cheese. That called for a celebration.
From the hallway, Haskill was worryingly eying his master that was and his master that would be. He had to wonder how such an event could have happened.
He wasn't prepared for this.
The country wasn't prepared.
Nirn as a whole wasn't prepared.
He couldn't help the small shudder that ran up his spine.
1.02
It was just getting better and better.
The first time, it had been pretty fun. He was in his palace, and suddenly he still was, yet he wasn't. There was another him, which wasn't him yet. The old him had joined a few days later, and boy had it been messy. Blood, an eye, a little betrayal...
And just when old him had been due to become him, he was once again a fishstick, with the Dragonborn running around Pelagius' head.
Sheogorath had been mad.
He was looking forward for a conversation with a himself that was truly himself instead of himself or old himself. But instead, he was back there, being a fichstick.
Maddening.
But he had moved on.
Sheogorath was mad, but he always had been, and he always would be. Wouldn't make any difference.
And yet, just as he was accustoming himself back with boredom, he wasn't in his new custom goat-throne anymore. Yes, a living one, but shaped like a throne.
Instead, he was in a cell.
He knew that cell, it was his old one, or his old me's one anyway.
And just like his old me, he wasn't himself yet. Except that he was, but he wasn't.
No calling Haskill, no eye on a staff, and worst of all, no cheeeeeeese!
And then that old fart of a Septim jumped him again and babbled useless personal matters. Twice in multiple lifetimes, the nerve of that man.
But he would be dead soon, plus the incoming assassination was making him loose his mind, so it was fine. The "no cheese" situation was in the end more dire than an old emperor.
In a reeking humid cell, secretly the entrance to an underground passageway out of the city, Sheogorath that wasn't Sheogorath yet smiled wickedly.
"No cheese! We can't have that now, can we?"
He grabbed a nearby wood mug that would make a fantastic makeshift weapon and followed Lord Almost-dead and his moron guards (like guards, but more moronic) in the sewer system.
He was on a quest to bring cheese to the world, and there was no stopping him.
1.03
"Wake up."
Another one huh?
"Stand up."
But where was he? Not in New Sheot, for sure. And not in his old cell either.
"There you go. The three of you were dreaming."
Three?
Oh, there was three people with him. Two if he wasn't counting the talking half-naked scarred dunmer.
One was a young girl, another dunmer apparently. Ginger with an athletic body, probably around seventy or eighty of age but looking twenty-five at most.
The second one was a tall and muscular blond nord, looking about thirty and dressed in the same rags as them all.
Sheogorath waved a hand.
"Hello there."
The nord suddenly had a grim face and a dragonbone claymore in hand.
"What are you doing here?" he asked in a threatening tone.
"You know each other?"
"Why, yes. Judging from the weapon, this man is most certainly the Dragonborn, but how he went from a small bosmer with black locks to a tall blond nordic, I have no idea. As for me, I'm known around Cyrodiil as the Hero of Kvatch, but if you're partial to being digested by a polar bear in a top hat, you can call me Ann Marie. If not, then just call me Sheogorath, Daedric Prince of Madness. Charmed."
He concluded his introduction by summoning his trademark suit and a walking-cane version of his staff.
The girl took a step back. The other dunmer just left the room, screaming.
"You remember me as being a bosmer?" asked the Dragonborn.
"And a redguard. Why, shouldn't I?"
The nord lowered his sword and sighed... deeply.
"Divines, you're looping."
"Are you talking about time loops?" asked the dunmer.
The Dragonborn nodded.
"Then I'm not alone. Thank Divines."
Sheogorath grinned.
"Is your faith in the good place, little girl? If you are indeed... looping, like the two of us, then isn't Akatosh the biggest suspect out there? God of time, is he not?"
That startled the girl.
"He's not at fault. Akatosh is most certainly loop-aware, but this is bigger than him."
"Bigger? How?"
He got his response all right.
But not before being interrupted by an imperial guard, dragged with the other two to a decaying priest which just wouldn't take Sheogorath as name for his stupid survey, and given a package to deliver to some master spy.
"Morrowind. Why are we in Morrowind?"
"I'm the Nerevarine." provided the dunmer, "I'm supposed to be here."
"But I'm not. I'm supposed to being in Cyrodiil as the Hero, or in New Sheot as myself."
"And I'm supposed to be in Skyrim, but you don't see me rambling. Now let's find an inn so I can brief you both."
"Arrille's Tradehouse shall be around here. Follow me."
"You see, our reality exists alongside many others, all of them under the control of a giant divine tree called Yggdrasil. Said tree is under the care of several higher beings, mostly gods and titans. We call them Admins, short for Administrator."
"What's that?"
"You'll understand when you'll end in a high-tech loop. Anyway, the tree got axed by an unknown, and reality had to be put in a loop to avoid total annihilation, each loop working thanks to the existence of a being known as the Anchor. The anchor remember every reset, hence every loop, and he can sometimes make other people loop if he's close enough to them."
A nod from the dunmer.
"Given that you're respectively the Nerevarine, which I've never met before, and the Hero of Kvatch, which I barely spend any time with when you're Sheogorath, I can't possibly have jumpstarted you. So I'll take an educated guess and say that you're not just loopers, but Anchors, which mean that like the StarWars sub-branchs, we now have three Eras looping. You'll now relive your lives again and again until Yggdrasil is fixed, which mean that you're up for pretty much an eternity of endless adventuring."
"Boooooring." singsonged Sheogorath
"Yeah, no. Loops can happen with a whole number of strange variations. They're called Variant loops, and I have to warn you that the variations include race and gender."
"What other variations are we talking about?"
"Pretty much anything. Different Princes, different magic, bad guys being secretly good and good guys being evil, vampires feeding only on mudcrabs, necromancers wearing pink robes, cured ham working as a soul gem, dragons using the lost art of Boogy-dancing... you name it. But if that's not enough for you, you can have a Fused loop and end up in entirely other realities. The multiverse is large enough to entertain even you."
Sheogorath wasn't listening anymore.
He was smiling like a loon, staring vacantly into space.
"That's... a lot to take in." said the dunmer.
"Take your time."
The Nerevarine mulled on it for a minute before giving a nervous chuckle.
"I guess I was inspired to follow the Green Pact when I was a Bosmer. A giant divine tree. I didn't want to anger Y'ffre, and I definitely don't want to anger this Yggdrasil."
"The tree can't be angered. It is sentient, but not in the way you're thinking. As for the Admins, they have bigger problems than a plant eater."
"Really?"
"Yes, but Y'ffre most certainly doesn't, so try to be a proper Bosmer if you can. I don't remember him interfering that often when I broke the Pact, but when he did, it was rather memorable."
The Dragonborn would have gladly provided examples, but he was cut off by a returned Sheogorath displaying way too many teeth for it to be healthy.
"Hey, you said that there are higher gods guarding this tree, right? Do they happen to come down from time to time?"
"To take a break or talk to a looper, yes, they do."
"That's excellent, annoying the other Princes was becoming boring. Gotta meet them. Maybe they love cheese?"
The Dargonborn tried to picture Sheogorath pranking an Admin... it wouldn't end well.
"I'm sure some do. Anyway, take those guides and you're good to go."
"Looping For Dummies?"
"Ooooh, good title."
He blinked.
Gone the muddy swamp of Vvardenfell, and welcome back the beautiful duality of New Sheot.
Well, it had been fun while it lasted.
Not just fun, but a real blessing for the Hero of Kvatch – the other two had downright refused to call him Sheogorath, since he was now more than The Mad God, and he had caught their damn quirk.
Anyway, the loop had introduced the Nerevarine and himself to the Multiverse, given the Dragonborn the occasion to study lost magic such as levitation, and offered a greatly deserved vacation to the Nerevarine.
In fact, the Hero had insisted on taking his place. Prophecies were mostly nonsense after all, and he was a Daedric Prince, more than capable of taking down Dagoth Ur, Almalexia, and whatever Hircine could throw at him.
But he was back home, and it meant back to boredom.
...
Yeah, definitely not.
He may not be allowed to trespass unto Nirn to take direct actions when he was a full-fledged Prince, but he had other options.
"Haskill."
"Yes sir?"
"I'm going to pack my bag. In the meantime, call Nocty and tell her that I plan to visit her realm."
"At once sir."
Evergloam would be a good start. It was foggy, depressingly dark and gloomy monsters roamed everywhere.
Damn, he was turning into an adventure junkie.
1.04
The Imperial City was a battlefield. Corpses and debris laid around the streets, soil and buildings covered in gore or eaten by unholy flames. Giant crimson claws pierced the ground and huge stone portals to Oblivion were opened left and right.
The Daedras had set foot on Nirn, determined to claim the realm for Mehrunes Dagon, Prince of destruction, change, revolution, energy and ambition. With their master leading the charge, their victory was assured.
There was just one tiny little detail they'd overlooked…
Dagon wasn't the only Prince walking the Tamrielic earth.
"Divines, no. He's here, Mehrunes Dagon is here. We were too late… it's over."
Martin Septim's voice broke halfway through his sentence. He'd just lost hope.
"Come on Martin, don't get your knickers in a twist. It'll be fine." cheerily said his friend, nonchalantly beheading a Dremora without even looking.
"But… with the barriers gone, lighting the Dragonfires would be pointless. No mortal mean can possibly stop a Prince. We're doomed. Doomed…"
His sanity was starting to crumble. The prospect of an imminent and painful death can have that effect on people.
"Hey, breath, stay with me Martin. Breath… breath dammit! Look, we went through hell and we're still alive. Dagon has nothing on everything we saw, so don't you dare give up now."
A little light popped back in the emperor's eyes.
"Yes… You're right."
He was far from fine, but it would have to do.
"But what can we do? Mortals weapon ar useless, we would need a divine intervention to… Yes… yes, the amulet of kings. It's a gift from Akatosh himself, he left a part of his essence in it. If I was to open it, it would grant me the power to banish Dagon."
"It's great, but let's make that plan B."
"What? Why?"
"You do know that the magical backlash would consume you no matter what, right?"
"I'm the emperor, it is my duty to protect Tamriel with my life."
"True. But doing so when you don't have to is pretty stupid."
"So you have a better plan?"
"I do. Sit down and enjoy the show."
Death, destruction, such were the results of his cunning plan and manipulations. His plot had succeeded and soon, this world would crawl before him.
Mehrunes Dagon was extremely satisfied.
"He,,you exhibitionnistic jackass!"
What?
Who dared?
No one was allowed to call him that and walk away freely.
"Where are you filth? Show yourself!"
"I'm right here, moron."
Those insults had come from… this puny mortal?
"You are a fool, little man. You will regret those words when I'll feast on your bones."
"Yes, yes, the obligatory death threats. It's my turn now, right? Oh, I'm so scared. Somebody help me. Hey, you mind if I keep the shaking in my boots for later?"
"Who are you, madman?"
"Man? MAN? What's wrong with you Mehru? I always knew you were an egotistical sadistic BASTARD, but you got to the point of not even recognizing family. Nocty would be so… disappointed."
Those nicknames...
Dagon began to feel an unpleasant sensation making its way up his spiked spine.
"And invading Nirn like that… Exactly how many rules do you think you're breaking?"
An extremely unpleasant sensation.
"But that's not important. No, what's important is that YOU HAVE NO CLASS. And I'm saying this for your own good. Dremoras and war machines, seriously? You need finesse, guile and CHEESE, not chaos. You're a Prince, Mehru, act like it."
Oh no, why?
Why him?
"What are you doing here, Sheogorath?"
"FINALLY! Man, I was this close to spelling it out for you. Or carving it on your forehead with a poleaxe. I got this nifty new one from an alteration master in Skingrad and..."
"Answer me."
"Fine, fine. I'm taking a break, Haskill was driving me crazy… well, crazier."
"So you came to Nirn. Aren't you breaking the same treatises as I?"
"Nope, 'Tosh invited me. Or his prophecy did. It's complicated, you don't want to know. Besides, I'm not breaking everything around me like a certain someone, if you know what i mean. Anyway, here I was, taking a tour of the country, drinking ale and trading jokes with my pal Martin, when your kissass cultists came and tried to skin us. So of course, I returned the courtesy, with a rusty dirk and more efficiency."
So he'd been the one interfering.
It was no wonder that Mankar Camoran had died then.
"And just when I'm starting to relax again, I learn that you're coming yourself to kill Martin. Killing such a great drinking buddy… you're a jerk, you know that?"
"So you'll stand in my way?"
"Oh, I probably would, but I don't have to. You're about to go after all."
"You want to make me back down? When my prey is so close? I don't think so, brother."
"I would have thought that your valued your life more."
"I'm not afraid of you."
"That's fine, I won't do anything… Nocty will."
"Noc… you're bluffing."
"Am I?"
That smirk.
He hated that smirk.
"What did you do?"
His fear laced his words, but he couldn't care less. He had all the reasons in the world to be afraid.
An annoyed Nocturne was no laughing matter.
"I stopped by her shrine the other day, we had a little chat. You know how she misses the family reunions. Now, what do you think would happen, hypothetically, if she was to learn from an undisclosed source that you, dear brother, are messing around with humans instead of visiting her like a well mannered sibling?"
And he was sweating now…
"It's entirely hypothetical of course, but she would surely be beyond pissed. And you wouldn't want that, would you?"
"..."
Martin Septim watched from afar the giant four-armed daedric Lord fade away. His troops followed in the next ten seconds, leaving behind the now closed Oblivion gates.
Then his friend came back at a leisurely pace, a massive grin on his face, and the young emperor decided to express his feelings about this whole situation.
"What?"
1.01 - Me, myself and I enter in a bar...
1.02 - Back to basics.
1.03 - The Hero's back on the roads... This won't end well.
1.04 - I can totally see the Princes acting like one big dysfunctional family. And Nocturne would be the scary big sister with destructive mood swings. Sheogorath would be the crazy uncle.