Munster for the Mad God! Oh, and loops too.
3.01
The Hero of Kvatch couldn't understand for the love of him how the time could be so stormy. Seriously, the sun had shined brightly not ten minutes before.
Maybe it had to do with his current destination, as a way to create the correct atmosphere around the event? Well, he'd have to look into that later, that Fafnir guy had seen him.
"At last, the final guest arrives." began the fake doorman. "I'll tell you exactly what I told the five others: you go in, I lock the door, you don't come out 'till it's over."
He smirked viciously, like only a Dark Brotherhood initiate could.
"And now I'll tell you what I didn't tell anyone else. We have the same Mother you and I, and she wants you to have the key to the house. The rest is but details. Kill the others, then leave. Now get in there, time's come to mingle, brother."
The Hero obliged.
"The sixth guest finally arrives."
The Hero almost sighed.
Maybe he'd introduce the annoying Breton to the Emperor once, they babbled in the exact same bossy way.
"Well, it's about time. Do you know how long you've made us wait?"
He couldn't believe that he had to deal with that nonsense every loop... at least the next part was fun.
"A lifetime, I'm sure... and hello to you too, polite unknown person."
"Huh... yes, hello. I'm truly sorry for my rudeness, but the five of us have already been stuck in this place for ages and it's starting to get to us."
The old Breton shook her head slightly, as if to get herself out of a daze.
"But you're here now, and we can finally begin that treasure hunt."
She smiled at him in a grandmotherly kind of way.
He returned a Sheogorathtm smile that sent shivers down her spine.
"W... well, we should introduce ourselves first, we're all in this together after all. I'm Mathilde Petit. The others are Dovesi Dran, Nels the Naughty, Neville and Primo Antonius."
"It's a pleasure."
It really wasn't.
"Now who might you be? Please, tell me about yourself."
"Gladly. I am a nameless, genderless, raceless adventurer, occasional bad guy, and daedric Mad God in my lonely hours. I'm also stuck in a time loop, which have made me a member, and even the head, of the Fighters Guild, Knights of the Thorn, Arena, Order of the Virtuous Blood, Mages Guild, Knights of the Nine, Thieves Guild, and The Blades. But right now, I'm simply a faceless assassin sent by the Dark Brotherhood to kill you and every other person in this building, again. Nice to meet you."
"Hahaha! Oh, you're a funny one. Glad to know that at least one of us has a sense of humor about all this."
The Hero almost snickered. He couldn't wait to see her face when she would realize that he'd tell nothing but the truth.
Now, how was he to kill five people with a brush, fresh sheep blood and a previously pocketed starving mountain lion, in the middle of a Skingrad's mansion, and still somehow make it look like a regrettable accident?
3.02
The Hero opened the old rotting door and entered the abandoned farm to find a macabre display.
The mutilated corpse of Lucien Lachance was hanging upside-down from the ceiling, skin ripped away in entire patches and blood pooling on the floor.
It was horrible, and he would have vomit… had it not been exactly what he had waited for.
One of the four robed figure contemplating the body heard his arrival – or most assuredly, all had heard him, but only one had reacted to it – and came straight at him.
The light provided by the torch in his hand pierced through the darkness casted by the hood, and the face of Arquen, Speaker of the Dark Brotherhood, appeared.
"Silencer, at least you've arrived. Fear not, for the crisis that has plagued the Dark Brotherhood has finally come to an end."
"Well, no, it hasn't."
"I am Arquen, Speaker for the… wait, what do you mean? We have dealt with the betrayer and–"
"And once again, I must disagree."
The woman tensed, and a silver dagger appeared in her gloved hand, seemingly appearing from thin air.
"Are you confessing to your own betrayal, Silencer?" she hissed.
"Dear Mother, no." replied the Hero. "I am just saying that Lucien was innocent. But don't take my words for it, ask him yourself."
And in a swift move, the Anchor raised a glowing hand and casted a most unusual spell. One coming from another time.
A bone-freezing cold fell like a blanket on the entire room, as the veil between Mundus and the Void was suddenly ripped apart. In a whirlwind of purple energies, a shade departed from his place at the right side of a primordial god, and incarnated itself in the mortal realm.
"Speak Listener, and I'll obey." monotonously said Lachance's ghost.
The other Speakers – which included the real traitor – were too stunned to react.
Perfect.
"Hello again, Lucien. I'm sorry for my tardiness, old friend."
"My death is unfortunate, Listener, but unimportant in the grand scheme of things." replied the ghost, in his usual wise tone.
"If you say so." said the Hero, smiling. "Now, I followed the last lead we had regarding the real traitor, and it led me under Anvil's lighthouse, where I found –"
The Hero put an arm in his backpack, discreetly accessing his subspace pocket, and grabbed a battered and blood-coated book.
"– this diary. Apparently, the guy wants to kill the Night Mother, like you killed his own after his father put a contract on her when he was but a child. After reading this, I have to congratulate him on the obstinacy. Seriously, he planned this for years, that's borderline insanity… and not the fun kind."
The Anchor threw a side-glance toward the traitor, and saw him slowly coming out of his daze. Well, time to shake him up again.
"He even kept his mother's severed head. That's seriously messed up, even by my standards."
The aforementioned part was dropped unceremoniously on a nearby barrel.
The traitor was now sweating and experiencing a certain difficulty to breath.
"So, recognize her?" asked the Anchor, looking at Lucien.
"I do not, Listener, the face is too rotten." answered the ghost. "But I believe that the lair under Anvil's lighthouse was once recorded in the Black Hand's book of holdings under Mathieu Bellamont's name."
At those words, Mathieu reacted exactly how the Hero had expected him to.
He threw himself at the ghost, blade in hand and screaming like a banshee.
"NO, YOU CAN'T RUIN THIS, NOT NOW! NOT WHEN I AM SO CLOSE! I WILL HAVE MY REVENGE!"
That confirmed to the Speakers that everything they'd just heard had been nothing but the truth, including the traitor's slight mental problem.
They reacted immediately – even though it wasn't necessary, as the idiot was trying to hurt a ghost with an unenchanted steel dagger – and brought down Sithis' wrath on him.
He was dead in seconds, and the Hero discreetly helped his sick soul find its way to the Shivering Isles. He would have something to torture if the loop extended to the next sub-branch.
Only when the corpse received his fourteenth fatal injury, did Arquen stopped the massacre and returned to the Hero's side to congratulate him.
"Had you not called Lucien's shade, the traitor would have struck us down. He may even have succeeded in his endeavor, and put an end to the Dark Brotherhood. Thank you, Silencer… or rather, Listener."
The woman smiled, and her face almost lose that eternal coldness that seemed to cling to it… almost.
"I wanted you to become a Speaker, but it seems that the Void itself recognize your accomplishments." she said, nodding toward the ghost.
The three surviving Speakers bowed and, as one, proclaimed in a respectful tone "We salute you, honorable Listener. May the Dread Lord guide your steps."
Cleaning the house had been a nightmare, but they had offered Lucien the funeral he deserved. The Hero had even left a poisoned apple on the tombstone, under the appreciative eye of the man's ghost.
Said specter was casually walking along his summoner on his way to some new adventure, when he suddenly decided to speak.
"Listener?"
"Yes Lucien?"
"Can you explain why, when I joined the Void, you were already recognized as the Listener? I would also like to know where you learn that spell you used to call me into this plane."
"I could say that it's too long to explain, but I would be lying." replied the Hero. "I'm basically stuck in a time loop. My Listener status is following me around from day one, and I already killed that bastard Bellamont in hundreds of humiliating ways... and it never gets old. As for the spell, it will be gifted to another member of the Brotherhood in the far future, and with the loops, I happen to meet him fairly regularly."
"So… you knew that I would be killed? You knew all along that your targets were members of the Black Hand?"
The Anchor sighed.
"I… yes, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have… played with your lives like this."
"No, you shouldn't have."
The Anchor flinched at the stiff tone.
"Tell-tale sign of Sakura Syndrom… not good." he whispered. "Look, from now on, I'll try to convince you to travel with me to Anvil, it should keep you alive. If I can, I'll stop Mathieu right after Awakening. I'll even ask the Nerevarine to do it whenever he's around, okay?"
The ghost stayed silent.
3.03
The Hero of Kvatch usually Awoke to a new loop in one of two spots.
The most common one was his cell in the Imperial City. He liked that cell, it had its own secret passage, and a good neighbor to torture whenever he felt bored. He'd even stolen it once, and used it as his new bedroom in New Sheot. Dame Syl had congratulate him on the decoration… he'd changed it in a jiffy. Anyway, if he was in his cell, then he was mortal, and Nirn was in for a surprise.
The other point was his throne room. When that happened, he was a full-fledged Sheogorath 95% of the time, and had to keep his adventuring to his own domain, or the other planes of Oblivion. There was just has much surprise, but his siblings were the targets those times, and facing immortals allowed for heavier and deadlier pranks.
That second situation was what he'd just opened his eyes to. He was in his palace, facing a newbie babbling adventurer that had just entered the Isles. He'd recently sent his invitation to Mundus and…
Oh, interesting.
The adventurer had felt silent too, blinked a couple times, and was now openly frowning at him.
"Hey there, feeling loopy?" asked the currently daedric Anchor.
"I hate you, Hero." replied the adventurer.
And that was a yes.
"No, I'm Sheogorath. You're the Hero this time, Ghosty." grinned Sheogorath, having recognize his fellow Anchor's irritated tone.
The man's eyebrow twitched.
"Stop calling me that. I'm Nerevar's reincarnation, not his ghost."
"Po-tay-to, po-tah-to." singsonged the Prince. "And it won't really matter when you'll be me."
"I can't wait!" said the Nerevarine, sarcasm dripping from every word.
"Knew you'd be excited. Oh, and just so you know… you will be my first mantling. Please, be gentle."
The Morrowind-Era Anchor's response was a curse so lewd that it simply can't be retranscribed if we want to keep the pg-13 rating.
3.04
The Hero of Kvatch, currently a female orc with a war hammer fetish, had recently finished the Order of the Virtuous Blood quest line. Dealing with vampires had awaken a kind of thirst for blood-suckers, and she'd thus decided to hunt them down for sport.
It was partly for this, and partly because she really wanted to check on her sister, that she traveled all the way to Cheydinhal, before going straight to Azura's shrine.
She would get to see Azura, something she hadn't done in quite a while. She would also dust a few vampires, retrieve another Star for her collection, and hopefully, in a couple of loops, she would finally get to see what happened when the captured soul of a cult leader madman was tortured fifty times... at once.
"You have entered a holy place, stranger. What is your business here?"
That Mels Maryon was a rather nice fellow, even if he was better when she tried – and managed – to make him join her own cultists.
In her humble opinion, everyone was this tiny bit better with a touch of madness.
"I am but a pilgrim, seeking the enlightenment of the goddess."
"Oh, a fellow believer then. And you wish to summon the Lady, excellent." he said with a smile. "Your task is quite simple my friend, you must leave an offering of glow dust at her shrine, either at dusk or dawn. And if you are worthy, she might just speak to you."
The orc thanked the dunmer and grabbed glow dust in her satchel. She then approached the statue and loudly snapped her fingers. In a ten feet radius around the shrine, day-time turned to dusk.
Every nearby cultists fell on their knees and began to pray, mumbling about a sign from their goddess. The Hero, eyes now yellow and slitted, simply chuckled. Chaotic magic was neat, she would really have to thank the draconequus the next time she ended up in Equestria.
With exaggeratedly slow movements, she offered the dust. Bowing her head, she silently pressed forward her desire for a meeting with the Prince into the altar.
Then she heard the voice.
"I see you're putting Discord's spells to good use."
"Okay, that was unexpected."
"Yes, your face translated that pretty nicely. And just so you know, I recorded it."
"Great." grumbled the Anchor.
She really needed to check her in-loop memories more often.
"Now that we had a good laugh, would you kindly share your name? It's only polite after all, no matter the dimension."
"I'd suggest you avoid that phrase entirely, the Rapture loopers have bad experiences with it. But you are right anyway. I'm known in this loop as Endless Eclipse, Queen of the Dusk and the Dawn."
The Prince's voice suddenly lost that mystical echo ring it had, and the being continued in a more cheerful tone.
"But you know me better as Twilight Sparkle. A pleasure seeing you again, Hero of Kvatch."
3.05
Gods and goddesses were known for being eternal, unmoving, unwavering. They represented a concept, an idea, and they kept to it. Except for the few that were governing over so many things that they were ever-changing, evolving, transforming. They were legion, one thing and it's inverse. And then, there were those that were both… Kronos was such a being.
Titan with only one affiliated domain, he was a fixed deity in the Greek Pantheon… and yet, as ruler of time, he was in a constant motion. Time was like water, always flowing and capable of changing from a calm stream to an outraged typhoon in the blink of an eye.
It was no wonder then, that his office in Adminspace was similar to a giant clockwork. Cogs were turning, clock hands were spinning, and rubies were gleaming. The floor was dripping wet with water from a thousand waterfalls. The entire place looked marvelous and felt somehow… alive, with that weird buzzing at the limit of audibility and an annoying ticking noise that would render anyone mad in seconds.
The titan had himself been that close to fell into insanity, bored as he had been.
He knew that he hadn't been the exemplary father, but his sons had just been cruel when they'd confiscated his loops. If Belldandy hadn't taken pity of him, he wouldn't even have kept the TimeSpitter Branch. He probably would have returned willingly to Tartarus, as it was preferable to an eternity of boredom.
But bored, he was no more.
If Poseidon and Hades had managed their loops just fine, Zeus had been… well, Zeus. He'd screw up in his coding, told no one, swept the loop under the rag, and returned to his porn. The loop had managed to stabilize, if barely, but no additional loopers ever Awoken in the eons that had followed its activation.
The problem would have gone unnoticed – and it had, for some time – but Kronos had been bored enough to check on his sons despite their previous threats of emasculation if he ever shown his face around them. He'd been a concerned father for once, and done a quick review of their work… only to discover this. He'd immediately brought it up to the Norns' attention, which had resulted in him being scowled for prying when he shouldn't have, but still rewarded for his discovery, and what a reward…
He had his old loop back.
Just the one, "Skyrim", but he wasn't about to go look Sleipnir in the mouth…
He'd immediately got to work, fixing the loop properly. It had been fairly simple, as Zeus had simply overlooked one detail. The Branch wasn't "Skyrim" at all, its true denomination was "The Elder Scrolls", and it was revolving around a good number of sub-branches, including the "Skyrim" one. Some of those sub-branches were useless, mostly due to Anchor Candidates' data being too damaged, but two were pretty safe bets.
Morrowind and Oblivion were activated right away, the entire universe finally stabilizing properly with the new Anchors. And with that little patch he'd just finished, it was ready to receive new loopers. In fact, he was just about to activate the first one.
The titan entered a few commands in his computer. Data began piling up quickly on his screen as Yggdrasil checked the patch and the selected candidate's compatibility. The terminal then purred like a contented cat and the loop started.
The Dragonborn grumbled as he entered his home in Whiterun, the home he'd just acquired and for which he'd been charged thrice the usual amount.
"You shouldn't have done that, Hero." he said, turning to one of his companions.
"Don't be a party pooper, Scaly. It was fun." said the grinning man and occasionally Mad God.
"Jarls in Skyrim hold high positions of authority, and they shouldn't be messed with." explained the Nerevarine. "You can't introduce us as time-traveling legendary heroes and a daedric god, and expect them to take us seriously."
"Why? It's true, right?"
"Balgruf doesn't know that!" hissed the Dragonborn. "If I hadn't be called by the Greybeards, he would have us kicked out of the palace."
"That's supposed to be a palace? Ha, my palace in New Sheot would beat the crap out of this one any day of the week… even on Mondays, when it's grumpy."
The Dragonborn and the Nerevarine had heard that kind of speech before. It seemed that the Hero was extremely happy to own a palace. He'd even told them to "Deal with it." once.
They exchanged a glance and wisely choose to stay silent.
"At least, admit that his face was priceless." added the daedra with a smirk.
"Who are you?"
Wow, new voice.
Well, almost new as they'd all heard it before, one of them more than the others.
The Anchors quickly confirmed that, yes, Lydia was indeed looking at them menacingly with a sword in her hand.
"You're… Lydia of Whiterun, right?" asked the Dragonborn. "I am the owner, and your new thane. Those are my friends and –"
"Liar!"
"E… excuse me?"
the huscarl took a step forward, tightening her grip on her sword.
"I already have a thane, and she does own this house, but you are not her."
The Dragonborn was shocked speechless, and the Hero's eyes began to gleam. The Nerevarine decided to check if their common suspicion was correct before his crazy friend could do it himself.
"You remember a female thane then? May I know what race she was? Please, it's extremely important."
The imperial looked puzzled, but answered anyway.
"A… a bosmer, but –"
"Blonde, with facial scarring? Ended up Archmage of the College of Winterhold and had an unhealthy obsession with ice spells?" tried the Nerevarine.
"No, she was a Shield-sister and a brunette, but why –"
"Damn, wasn't Awake for that one."
"I was." grinned the Hero. "Scaly took the title a little too seriously and decided to give herself a handicap by only using shields in fights. She even banged Alduin on the snout with Spellbreaker, it was glorious."
"How do you know about that?" asked Lydia in an astonished voice.
The Hero just kept grinning.
"Well, that confirms it then." said the Nerevarine before smiling warmly at the woman. It was one of those smiles he usually reserved for his two true friends.
"I'm sorry if I am being blunt Lydia, but the three of us are stuck in a time-loop, and now, so are you."
The woman's weapon dropped, and her mouth opened, but the Nerevarine wasn't finished yet.
"Don't worry, we'll explain the details later. But before that, I believe that introductions are in order. First of all, and even though I understand that it may seem completely impossible, I can assure you that this man, and the bosmer your remember, are but one and the same person. Like the two of us, he doesn't really bother with names as they constantly change, but titles are unvarying so we call him the Dragonborn. As for me, I'm known as the Nerevarine, and the guy smiling like a loon over there is the Hero of Kvatch."
"I also go by Sheogorath on Tuesdays." added said Prince, making his eyes glow yellow.
Lydia took an instinctive step back, sword going up once more.
"Thank you, dumbass. It really wasn't overwhelming enough without this."
"You're welcome. Oh, and congratulation on the new looper, Scaly."
The Dragonborn merely nodded.
He was still too shocked to answer properly.
Back in Adminspace, a certain office was currently silent. All mechanisms had stopped, as Kronos wanted to savour this moment.
He even would have smiled in satisfaction if a shout of anger mixed with clashes of thunder hadn't suddenly shook Yggdrasil from its roots to its leaves.
"FATHEEEEEEEEEER!"
Okay, Zeus had involuntary helped him vanquish his boredom, but the gift basket with the "Thanks for screwing up!" card may have been a bit too much.
3.06
The Hero blinked Awake in a black and white simplistic suburban city.
It wasn't just the city that was minimalist. The passersby themselves had circular heads with nothing more than points for eyes, a line for a mouth, and the vague outline of a body.
The sight he now had was pretty weird, as he could see that he was clearly male, but couldn't really tell if he was wearing clothes or not.
He was contemplating the weirdness of this loop when he heard the cries.
"Aaaaaah!"
"That's a spaceship!"
"Alien attack!"
Oh, maybe this loop wouldn't be so bad after all.
The Anchor reached for the protonic inversal axe in his pocket, but could only stop and clean his ears with his pinky when another man yelled something he'd never thought he would ever hear during an alien invasion.
"Throooow the cheeeeese!"
And they did so…
The Hero was momentarily gone. In its place, Sheogorath was grinning madly, his eye-topped staff having found its way into his hand.
What followed was a planetary orbital drop of whole cheeses on the invaders' ships.
He LOVED that loop.
3.01 – Haaa, honesty can do wonders.
3.02 – Looping and being mad shouldn't be used as excuses to justify your poor sense of communication… or you acting like an asshole. Get a grip Hero.
3.03 – Who wouldn't want to mantle a God? The Nerevarine, apparently.
3.04 – Well, hello again little pony. How are you enjoying being a Prince?
3.05 – And that's why the Elder Scrolls loops can gain new loopers. For those wondering, yes, it's now canon. Oh, and welcome to the loops, Lydia.
3.06 – That just HAD to be done.