Okay, I lied. I can't think of anything for the Modryn Story, so it won't be in this chapter. BUT I'M WORKING ON IT F'SHO!
This chapter will probably be riddled with mistakes because most of it was written at 1 in the morning. So please bear with me.
Once upon a time in a rural area of Crucible, a new resident to the Shivering Isles name Lucian Lachance walked out of his decrepit old house house. Stepping into the street he scraped off his shoes on the dingy doormat in disgust. He hated it here, the dirty, smelly people, the vermin creeping in every corner, the strange plants and people, and their crazy ruler of the realm Sheogorath. When he had been brutally killed he had fully expected to be exalted by Sithis, but when he woke up he was hanging upside-down in the torture chambers of the palace. Luckily for him, he was a master of stealth and lock picking, so he was able to escape easily. Un-luckily for him though, his soul was somehow brought to the realm of madness and, until further notice, he was stuck here. Exactly why he was stuck here he wasn't sure. But for some reason Sithis had deemed him unworthy and had sent him to an insane, unattractive, hell. A fellow resident walked by, shouting a quick hello with a toothy smile as he followed an Orc like a baby chick, just another crazy person; oh how Lucian hated it here. He changed his mind about going to find a map and went back inside his house, deciding to do it later when he was in a better mood.
From a dark alleyway a Skooma addict stalked. Caldana Monrius smiled eerily as she watched the new resident of crucible step back into his house in a huff as always. She sighed in a dreamy way and batted her eyelashes, 'what a man…' she thought. Skooma had nothing on him (almost). Caldana stepped out from the alley in a hunched fashion and stumbled over the cobblestones toward his door. Quick as a flash she bent down and scraped the goo from his shoes off the doormat and put it in her pocket.
Bolwing watched on from behind a building as Caldana scooped some shoe goo off a doormat obsessively. He shook his head slowly and sighed, he almost missed her crazed pleadings for Skooma, almost. Turning away from the pathetic scene he headed back to his usual spot near the gates only to spot Sheogorath's new champion.
"Hello Bolwing!" The Champion greeted in an upbeat voice. Bolwing smiled and nodded in response. It was nice to have someone around who understood what he was saying. It had been starting to get horribly lonely before he arrived; besides, Big Head had often gotten annoying with his constant singing. The Champion moved on quickly as he headed towards the palace, it seemed that The Champion was always on the move. Bolwing glanced over his shoulder to catch one last glance at Caldana before he went back to his usual day of trying to make contact with anyone nearby. Apparently, she had been caught by the new resident and was being scolded for something or another. It was unnaturally amusing and Bolwing smirked as he said
"Gal bursten it."
"FOOOOORRE!!"
The golf ball flew through the air at a million miles an hour, breaking the sound barrier and numerous other things in a wave of destruction. Sheogorath smiled from under his purple visor and gazed up at the sunny skies above him.
"My Lord, not to question your motives, but was this golfing trip really all that necessary?" Haskil asked in his signature monotone. He followed his Lord's gaze as the golf ball smashed through numerous statues, trees, mushrooms, and innocent bystanders. Sheogorath didn't reply and instead picked up his golf club and put it back in its blue carrying case. With a flick of his wrist two of his lower servants appeared next to Haskil with a poof.
"What can we do for you M'Lord?" they said simultaneously.
"Graggymoffalyde, carry my equipment to the next hole. Lynnary, enjoy this strawberry while I stab you multiple times with this giant quill pen." He said in a bored tone.
"Yes sir."
'Hold on,' Haskil thought. 'Something is obviously wrong here.' He didn't bring it up though, but instead continued on with Sheogorath as they walked towards the next hole. It was only when Lynnary was dead and Graggymoffalyde was out of earshot that Haskil brought it up.
"Sir, I can't help but notice that you're usual manner of conduct is off, is there something bothering you?" He hated playing therapist, but it was the only way to make things feel unpredictable again, a feeling that Haskil enjoyed.
"Greymarch." Was Sheogorath's short reply.
Haskil nodded "Of course Sir, How could I forget?"
As they reached the next hole the usual smile that donned Sheogorath's face returned, and with a loud voice he shouted,
"FOOOORREE!"