I've had the Wabbajack for four months now. In that time, I've found that there are over 30 different things it can do, be it elemental magic, transforming a target, summoning a creature, and so. much. more.

My favorite place to test it has become Blackreach. I finally got my revenge on all those damned falmer and chauruses that kept killing me time and time again.

I wake up to the sounds of birds chirping and children playing.

I don't like it.

"Sheogorath?" I shout. There is no answer.

"Sheogorath?!" I shout again. Still nothing.

"Hellooo…?!" I'm nervously searching the house as if I'd find him hiding in a chest or under some furniture. Nothing but silence.

I slump down in a chair, Wabbajack gripped tightly in my hands. If I squeezed it any harder it might snap. Or I might. For many minutes I sit there in silence wondering where he might be, why he's abandoned me, what I might have done to make him leave. Then for many more minutes I scream. I sit there and scream.

It's been almost two years since the last time I truly felt alone. I was in the dark, cold abyss Sheogorath left me in in his garden. That was isolation. Isolation is bearable to a degree. This is abandonment. Abandonment is never bearable.

I stop screaming when my voice has gone. I curl up in the chair and silently sob. Why did he abandon me?

It's midmorning and the sun has moved through the sky to where it's now at the angle where it's shining through a window directly on my face. I try to swat it away like a pestering torchbug, but the light remains. I sigh and decide to try to make the most of the rest of the day. Alcohol might help.

I get dressed and mope towards the Winking Skeever. I sit at the bar and order their most potent drink. Without a word, Corpulus pours me a tankard of Surilie Brothers Wine. I down the whole mug like a small shot and order another. He pours another tankard. When I down that drink like the last, he asks, "Rough morning?"

I motion for him to pour me a third and I answer, "A confusing and lonesome one." Corpulus shrugs and pours me my third tankard. I sit there and sip this one. The first two mugs are kicking in and I want this one to last.

As I'm enjoying my drink, a man walks in and takes the stool next to me. He reeks of every booze here. He then orders a mixed drink of every booze here. Corpulus raises and eyebrow and does nothing. The drunkard sifts through his pockets and drops two full pouches of gold and repeats his order, adding to make it a double. "No," he drops a third pouch, "A triple." Corpulus takes the pouches and begins making this man's mixed drink. The laws here involving alcohol is helluva lot more lenient than where I am from.

"I'm looking for a (hic) girl," the drunkard slurs.

I laugh. The alcohol coursing through my own veins gives me the guts to say, "With the state you're in, I'm quite certain she's looking for another man."

He looks sideways at me, literally. He blinks a few times and says, "She is actually."

I turn to him and say, "And you want to find her, so you can find him, and then punch him in his girl-stealing snoot. Right?"

"(Hic) Nooo…" He replies. "I'm looking for (hic) her so I can protect her while (hic) he's away." Corpulus hands him a tankard of this man's mixed drink, which looks like some purple, radioactive substance.

"How can you protect anyone in the state you're in?" I ask him.

"I was sent here (hic) by the man's (hic) friend," he says, then he chugs the contents of his mug.

I order another mug of my drink, two more actually, and when I get them, Corpulus asks us to move to a table. We wobble over the one in the far corner, knocking over a tray of fruit and bumping into the bard on our way. The drunkard falls on his ass as he misses the chair. I take the chair by the wall and laugh as he struggles to get up.

When we finally get settled at the table, the man continues to explain in his slurred and broken words. "The man's friend (hic) is my friend. My friend told me (hic) his friend, the (hic) man, was going to be (hic) away for a while. (Hic) His friend, (hic) the man, asked for someone to keep (hic) an eye (hic) on her when (hic) he's a-(hic)-way…"

At this point, my mind was wandering. This guy kept talking and I was far away in Blackreach daydreaming about zapping falmer with the Wabbajack. As I was imagining one shattering in an icy explosion, the man jabbed me in the ribs and I was thrust back into the Winking Skeever. I scowl at him. "What?!"

"I just remembered her name!" He yells in an annoyed tone. Everyone briefly goes silent and turns to look at us, then goes back to their own business.

"Good for you!" I scoff. I go back to daydreaming.

He jabs me again and says, "Her name (hic) was Ashlynn!"

I bolt upright in my chair. "'Ashlynn?'" I ask.

He nods vigorously. "You know her?"

"I am her!"

He gives me another literal sideways look and leans back in his chair. "You don't look (hic) mad."

I take a drink from my mug and reply, "and you don't look sober."

He leans in and whispers, "Sanguine sent me. He and Sheo-(hic)-gorath are great friends, al-(hic)-ways have been…"

For some reason, he spends the next ten minutes explaining his rendition of the friendship between Madness and Debauchery, saying that the two often tend to go hand-in-hand. I tune him out and return to killing falmer in my head.

Once again, I feel his sharp jab in my ribs. "(hic) Sheogorath (hic) thinks you might be in dan-(hic)-ger without him (hic) being here."

I laugh and take another drink from my mug. "What kind of danger? Am I a danger to myself and the people around me? Is he a warden to an asylum, here to keep me orderly? Is there a…"

"Molag Bal!" he whisper-yells at me.

I fall silent and my body freezes. Molag Bal… I remember him. He swore that when I was out of Sheogorath's protection, he'd come after me. I remember the strong sense of dread and fear when I was locked in Coldharbour. Feeling Molag's claws sinking into my chest as I was unable to scream. Seeing his true visage, a towering black skeletal beast. Him crushing me in his hands. I remember him. I wish I didn't.

I don't know how long I was sitting at that table in a silent panic. What's going to happen now? How can one of Sanguine's souls protect me? How can anyone but Sheogorath protect me?

As if to answer my questions, the man leans in and whispers, "I have San-(hic)-guine's Rose and (hic) knowledge of banishing spells. And (hic) best of all," he sits upright and, without any slurs or hiccups, says, "Sanguine's blessing of instant sobriety when needed."

I look sideways at him and groan. He's completely sober and I'm a wasted wreck. I try to make myself feel better by changing the subject. "How'd you get his Rose from the Dragonborn?"

"Simple," he explains, "Sanguine took it back, then gave it to me. She wasn't using it anyways."

I groan again. I was hoping for a more in-depth story. I sigh and ask him, "Know anything that can possibly sober me up?"

"I make a mean stew," he says. "It can practically wash away the sluggishness. All we need to do is get to your place."

I make a sound that is combination of a drunken groan and an annoyed sigh. I stumble to my feet and he helps me to the door and back to my place.

After sobering up by having my fourth helping of his self-titled Scaly Flymora Beef Stew, I've learned this man's name is Brewer, he participated in the Twisted Metal competition eight years ago, and Sanguine chose him simply because of his name.

"Have you been living here this whole time?" I ask him as I spoon what's left of his stew into my bowl.

"Nah. I've spent my time in his Shrouded Orchard. He made that realm specifically for the Earthsouls," he pauses and adds in an annoyed tone, "I hope Jack and Daniel don't steal my loot."

I laugh, "'Jack and Daniel?'"

"Sanguine usually chooses his souls if they remind him of alcohol," he replies. "There's me, Jack, Daniel, Jim, Tom, Colin, Shirley, Mary, and Kelsey, who's from Manhattan. Everyone else he chose for a myriad of other reasons."

"Sheogorath chose me because I apparently played mind games with my ally."

"Aren't allies against the rules?"

"Calypso probably knew my real reason for the alliance," I explain while I run my fingers along the inside of my bowl to get the last of the stew's broth, "so that's likely why he let it happen."

"What was your real reason for it?"

I sit there, remembering the night I had my wish granted, and say, "to enjoy myself."

Noticing the look I had, Brewer asks, "Did you?"

"Boy, did I!" I sigh, "Until he shoved me out the door the next morning."

"Uh, okay then." Brewer leans back in his chair and asks, "Any idea what time it is?"

I pull my mp3 player out and check the time on it. "It's almost 1. I'm usually in Blackreach by now."

"I've heard about Blackreach," Brewer says. "What I've heard is it's a vast place of nightmares."

"Only if you're unprepared," I tell him motioning to the Wabbajack on the opposite table.

Brewer cocks his head and thinks for a moment. Then he turns to me saying, "Do you think you can take me?"

I go to grab the Wabbajack and say, "follow me."

After what felt like hours of killing falmer after falmer, we rest in an old alchemical lab left by a man named Sinderion.

"I didn't know you knew Bound Bow," I tell him.

"What makes it better is I can soul trap folks with it," he replies, opening a pouch full of assorted soul gems.

"Awesome!" I grab one, saying, "I need to recharge Shock Through the Heart."

In a sing-song way, he says, "Shock through the heart, and you're to blame…"

I join in the song, singing, "…I(You) gave my(your) bow a good name!" We have a good laugh.

I sit back against the wall and ask, "Ever wonder how we can carry all this stuff in such small bags?"

"I always thought it was just magic and enchantments," he says as he takes a magicka potion from my bag, "like a Bag of Holding in DnD."

I shrug and stand back up. Back over my shoulder and bow in hand, I say, "Let's go make those falmer dance."

I open the door and step out. The door slams hard behind me and I turn to try and open it again.

"Brewer!" I shout through the door. There is no answer.

I bang my fist on the door and shout, "Brewer!" again. Still nothing.

Oh, no. Not again.

I turn away from the door. And see that my surroundings have changed.

Oh gods, no. Not this again.

I gaze out towards the far reaches of the horizon and see a beast gaze back at me. I am back in Coldharbour and Molag Bal awaits.