Author's Note: This chapter has been a long time coming, and I am pleased to finally debut Sheogorath in my fic. I hope you enjoy how I have rendered him, because he was complicated to put into words, and I am pleased with the result. However, any suggestions you have are more than welcome, or any reviewing comments period. Enjoy.
Chapter 23: …You Gotta Be More Subtle
Siena had her eyes closed as she dropped towards the stone altar, cursing Sheogorath's existence, the Realm, everything. She hit the ground with a dull, reverberating thud that jarred her teeth and knocked her glasses off her face.
Siena groaned, unsure what just happened but generally feeling painful all over. Am I dead? Her muscles ached as she got to her hands and knees before opening her eyes. What she saw around her was fuzzy, indistinct color; oranges and blues and tan-grey abounded, all seeming familiar. She looked down, finding an orange and blue carpet beneath her, blood free; it was the only thing in the room she could see clearly at the moment.
That was until a wooden shaft stamped the ground right in front of her face. It was a smooth, stained wood of a cane designed to retain its natural tree branch features. She followed the wood up to a blood red orb clasped in wooden fingers, covered by fleshy, fair-skinned, human fingers.
"Well, look who's here! You!" A familiar voice exclaimed, deep and carrying a distinctive brogue. "How 'bout that?" The voice became softer, almost like a loud sigh. From her position, she noticed the man had brown loafers and golden brown pants, but the right and left legs didn't match. His right leg was plain, but the left sported a purple half chap, and the left pant leg was darker, with black splotches in a pattern she couldn't discern.
"A new arrival!" The owner of the voice practically shouted above her, making her wince. She looked up towards the speaker, but all she could see was a violet tunic, a golden belt with a demonic (almost like a Hunger) face for a buckle, a bare right hand, and a left hand covered by a dark purple fingerless glove. "Shame about my Gatekeeper," the man said, this time his voice absent of the rumbling brogue.
Siena began to search the ground for her glasses, trying to make sense of what was happening to her. She was falling, falling towards her doom after trying to exact her vengeance on Sheogorath for driving her lover and friends insane. So how did she end up here, in this blurry place that seemed familiar?
"I'm so happy," the man continued as Siena searched, his deep brogue returning, "I could just… tear out yer intestines, an' strangle ya with 'em, ha-ha-ha." The man laughed, sending a chill down Siena's spine and freezing her search for the glasses. The man bent down, his purple-clad hand plucking something from the ground. Siena watched, clearly making out golden sleeves from wrist to elbow, before they were covered by violet sleeves with golden embroidery throughout that carried on further. She dared not look at the man's face yet, unsure she wanted to look at a man who just made such a horrendous threat; a man whose voice was familiar as well.
"I'm a bit curious, lass," the man carried on, holding out the item he'd picked up; it was her glasses. Siena hesitantly took them from his grasp, putting them on. "Just what were ya plannin' on doin', after ya gone an' killed me?"
Realization dawned on Siena, and she swiftly looked up to find her face a mere foot from what most certainly was Sheogorath's! Like all the stories of her youth, he had slicked back hair and a neatly trimmed beard and moustache that covered his entire jaw and mouth, leaving only pale lips exposed. The beard wasn't short either, hanging a good blade's width below his chin. But unlike the stories, his hair was silvery, graying like an aging man's instead of the blonde in the tales she'd heard. But the biggest surprise was in Sheogorath's eyes, which were heterochromatic. His right eye was an Aureal's, and the left a Mazken's; the result was a terrifyingly alien look to Siena.
"I wouldn't go tryin' that again, missy," Sheogorath chided. "I amn't in the business of givin' second chances," his voice lowered as he narrowed those unmatched eyes, "if ya catch mah drift." Siena gulped. Maybe Belmyne was right.
"Sheogorath…" Siena whispered, leaning away from him.
"Yes? Speakin' ta me?" Sheogorath asked, amused. "Well I'm he. He's me. An' others… as well." Sheogorath shrugged. "Or, they were… weren't they?" He rose to his full height, stroking his beard in perplexed thoughtfulness.
"But I suppose a proper introduction is in order," the Daedric Lord walked back towards his throne, ascending the steps with cane tapping rhythmically. When he reached the throne once more, he turned to face her, spreading out his arms. "I'm Sheogorath, Prince… of… Madness!" Dipping suddenly into a flourished bow at the waist, he straightened again, planting his staff roughly on the floor.
"And… other things," Sheogorath added, waving his hand as if to dismiss them. "I'm not talking about them…" his voice had begun to lower to a soft hush, suggesting Siena agree about dismissing these 'other things.' Siena sheathed Belmyne's dagger in her boot with uncertainty, still glaring at the Mad God, who sat down in his throne, holding his cane upright before him like a proper regent.
"You've probably figured that out by now," he rambled on in that hushed voice. Siena's teeth grit and her lip twitched in a brief sarcastic smile. Yeah, kinda. "Let's hope so. Or we're in real trouble… and," he matched her glare with one of his own, which carried considerably more intimidating potential, "out come the intestines. And I…"
"Skip rope with 'em!" Sheogorath laughed harshly, his scowl not leaving his face. Siena felt her face pale, and she backed up a few steps. Sheogorath ran his fingers through his beard, contemplating.
"But, perhaps now's not the time," he decided, nodding. "Ya've made it this far. Farther than anyone else," he amended rapidly, and Siena narrowed her eyes again, recalling his words after Belmyne's death, before she'd ever entered this Realm. Not yet, Siena, hold back… or he'll splatter you for real." Well done!" Sheogorath placed his cane across his lap, sluggishly clapping for Siena and receiving a frown in return.
Something seemed to dawn on the Prince, as he suddenly grinned and reached into the inner breast pocket of his tunic, which Siena could now see, was actually an elaborate purple suit jacket over a golden, collared tunic. From it he pulled out a golden chain with a pendant attached, a small gem shinning in its center.
"Take this trinket of mine. Perhaps it will serve ya well." He held out the 'trinket' towards her, amulet swinging idly in the air. "Or look… lovely on yer corpse," he said softly, still holding out the amulet. Siena stayed where she was, halfway down the carpet from the throne.
"Go on, take it. It ain't goin' to bite ya," Sheogorath snapped, waving the jewelry around unceremoniously. "An' neither will I… well, not right now anyways."
Slowly, Siena approached the throne steps, one foot painstakingly placing itself before the other despite every muscle of her body screaming to either stay away or charge at the lunatic ahead. She analyzed him further with every step. His jacket was extremely elaborate, with the golden embroidery forming scale-like patterns, or ones that looked like beasts, or eyes, or tentacles; like his behavior, the patterns were hard to understand. His jacket continued the left/right divide emphasized by practically everything in the Palace, as the left shoulder was covered by another layer of violet cloth that ended in a zigzag seam, while the right shoulder was smooth and seamless. His jacket collar, which was wide at the shoulders but tapered at the breast, was likewise divided, as the left edge zigzagged while the right side was straight. Like his eyes and his manner, his clothes were of a design Siena had never seen or heard of, yet seemed fit for any lord of a realm. But it also furthered his intimidating air.
Siena finally stopped at the top of the steps, once again mere feet from the man –no, beast, as he was in no way a man- who had destroyed her life. Her face showed no appreciation for the gift as she held out her hand and the Daedric Lord dropped it in her palm. She could feel the magic within the item, pulsing in her fist. How charitable of the Mad God, to give me an enchanted necklace, she mentally snickered, though her cold glare never wavered from the Daedric Prince. She decided to call the amulet Charity of Madness, in honor of the irony inherent in her receiving it.
"What do you want from me?" Siena asked abruptly. Sheogorath smirked, grabbing the head of his cane in his right hand and planting it on the floor beside him once more, slouching in his throne.
"I've been waitin' fer you," Sheogorath exclaimed. "Or someone like you," he corrected himself with a much calmer tone, "or someone other than you, fer some time." He looked off to the side with what Siena swore might have been hesitance, rapping the fingers of his right hand on the crown of his cane.
"I need a champion," he explained finally, looking at her directly. "And you've got the job!" He stated proudly, slamming his left fist on the arm of his throne and pointing at her. "Time to save the Realm! Rescue the Damsel! Slay the beast!" He shouted, rolling the 'r's with dramatic effect as he raised his arm as if toasting to a tavern buddy, leaning into the left arm of his throne. His smile was comically wide, but suddenly fell as he readjusted his seating, leaning towards Siena now.
"Or die… tryin'." His voice was low and reverberating, making Siena's spine tingle. With equal swiftness as before, he leaned back into his throne again, resting both hands now on his cane. "Your help is required," he stated plainly, as if in light conversation. Siena would have raised an eyebrow long ago, if she wasn't still trying to control herself.
"Why is my help required exactly?"
"A change is coming," Sheogorath answered, joviality gone from his face. "Everythin' changes. Even Daedric Princes." Sheogorath leaned forward to place his chin on the back of his hands, face and tone growing even more serious. "Especially… Daedric Princes."
Now, Siena raised an eyebrow; just what kind of 'changes' would a Daedric Prince undergo that would require a mortal champion? And could these changes leave them weak, susceptible to attack?
"Changes?" She asked, hoping she might pry more out of the rambling God.
"Daedra are the embodiment of change. Change an' permanency. I'm no different, 'cept in the ways that I am," Sheogorath explained, though his explanation was contradictory enough to leave Siena more confused than enlightened. "The Greymarch is comin'!" Sheogorath growled, leaning back again and raising his cane to prod at Siena. "An' you're going to stop it," he whispered fiercely.
"Oh really?" Siena snapped, angrily slapping aside his cane. She'd already had several people telling her what to do. She didn't need to add her sworn enemy to that list. "And just what is this 'Greymarch' you demand I stop?"
"The details aren't important," Sheogorath replied, avoiding the question as he placed his cane roughly back on the floor, seeming amused by her sass. "At least… not right now. Eternity is on a rather tight deadline." He looked at Haskill, who stood off to his left in seemingly complete obliviousness to their discussion, before raising his violet-gloved hand to his mouth and leaning forward, whispering "we'll get back to that later." Siena snorted.
"I don't see how I'm supposed to stop this Greymarch if you don't explain what it is. But if you insist on waiting, just what exactly is it you want me to do now, then?" She crossed her arms over her chest.
"Now?" Sheogorath asked back, momentarily confused. "You run an errand for me. An important one," Sheogorath smirked. "Of course, anythin' I tell you to do is important." The Daedric Lord sprung up from his throne, thumbing his chest.
"My Realm, my rules!" His left hand went from his chest to poke Siena in hers. "You're goin'… to Xedilian," he ordered sternly, before placing his hand flat on his chest and swooning. "One of my favorite spots in the Isles." Collecting himself, Sheogorath straightened and sneered. "It's a little place I use ta take care of… unwanted visitors," the Lord growled, eyes flashing with malice. "And some… are more unwanted than others!"
Siena didn't back down this time when the Daedric Prince roared, instead glaring at him, unsure if that last statement was meant to insult or not.
"So why send me to Xedilian?" Siena asked.
"The Gatekeeper takes care of most of the unwanted," Sheogorath admitted, placing his free hand on his hip and leering at Siena now, voice dropping into an accusing tone. "But he's dead."
Don't accuse me, you required me to kill him to get to you. Siena snapped in her mind.
Sighing, Sheogorath looked at the floor and wandered over to the fiery orange brazier, looking back at the tree behind his throne. "We'll have to remedy that soon, as well…"
"Anyway…" Sheogorath continued after several moments pause, looking back to Siena before beginning a slow walk towards the burning blue brazier. "There are those that have other ways inta my Realm, an' they're on the move. We don't want them here." Sheogorath whirled sharply towards Siena, nearly hitting Haskill with his cane. "Trust me," Sheogorath snarled.
"So," Sheogorath broke into a smile. "You're goin' to get Xedilian up and runnin'. Here's a little book to tell ya how," Sheogorath held up his left hand, and a small, rough covered book materialized. This he held out to Siena, and she took it. "And the Attenuator of Judgment!" Sheogorath whipped his arm around like a stage magician, as if slipping something out from his sleeve, and holding up what looked like a bronze tuning fork. "Uh, you'll need that too," he muttered quickly, handing it over to her.
"Of course, ya can always get more details from Haskill," Sheogorath grinned, motioning towards his chamberlain. "He's a detail-oriented type ah person. A big help." Sheogorath dropped his voice to a whisper yet again. "And, a snappy dresser." Siena grinned at Haskill, who looked like he was barely holding back rolling his eyes.
"I'd still like to know about this Greymarch I'm supposed to be stopping, though." Siena stated, slipping the Attenuator and Manual for Xedilian in her pack.
"Really, no need to trouble yerself with the details of that now," Sheogorath assured her, moving back to his throne and slouching upon it. "It would just cloud your little mind," he said absently.
"Excuse me?"
"What is important is getting to Xedilian. Quickly!" Sheogorath sat up straight and practically shouted the word at her, before composing himself and softening his voice. "Before I get bored… Ohhh, ya wouldn't like me when I'm bored…" Sheogorath shook his head, still oblivious to his insult to Siena; or he didn't care. He placed his left elbow on his knee and propped his chin on his fist, rapping his fingers on the head of his cane again.
"Anything else you care to tell me about Xedilian then?" Siena said with a hint of venom. Sheogorath looked at her in annoyance.
"Ah little busy here!" He shouted at her, throwing his hand up in frustration. "I'm tryin' to decide what to have fer dinner. Oh-ho, how I love eatin'." Sheogorath leaned over the right arm of his throne, propping his legs up on the left arm and tossing his cane up in the air to balance it on the palm of his hand. "One of my favorite things to do. Talk to Haskill if ya need more information, he's got more brains than a brain pie," Sheogorath told her, pointing at the chamberlain. "Ooo… Brain pie!" Sheogorath whispered excitedly, fascination at the idea plain on his face.
"Perfect!" He exclaimed shortly after, throwing his hands in the air in celebration of his genius. His elated expression fell into a somber, creepy gaze, and his eyes looked at Siena with hunger. "Care to donate?" It was a deep, soft spoken question, like the question of a killer before they take their victims.
"Um… no thanks…" Siena muttered, backing towards Haskill slowly.
"Very well. Best get goin', before I change my mind," Sheogorath instructed, laying his cane on his chest and nestling his hands behind his head. "Or my mind… changes me…"
Siena decided not to dwell on the implications of that, instead heading over to Haskill in the hopes that he, however snobbish, snide, and proper he may be about it, would provide her with some useful information.
"The Madgod has given you a task. Surely someone of your… copious talent should be able to handle it," Haskill remarked, his hands clasped behind his back as he stood straight and still, perfectly in control; perfectly irritating.
"I'm sure I could handle it, I just want more information on Xedilian, since crazy over there," Siena pointed her thumb back over her shoulder at the Daedric Prince, "was so helpful."
"Ah yes, quite an amazing place really," Haskill replied, his face lighting up just a little, and the hint of a smile beginning to touch his lips. This alone astounded the Dunmer, but then he looked up as if daydreaming. "Wonderful for relieving one's tension, as you watch those troublesome adventurers suffer…" Siena gave him an incredulous look, as if daring him to say it again, and the Bretonic chamberlain looked at her for a moment. "No offense."
Siena didn't believe him.
"I'd say your next move is to get to Xedilian, and get it reactivated," Haskill continued, not caring really whether she believed him or not.
"Reactivated? What is this, some sort of Dwemer construct?" Siena asked, confused. Sheogorath had told her to get it up and running; now she's told it's already up, she just needs to reactivate it. Just what was this place, anyways?
"Yes? Ah… silly me." Haskill's hint of a smile was gone, replaced now with that irritated visage she had come to attribute to him since they first met. "The book has no pictures. Can't really expect you to read that, now can I?" Haskill sarcastically inquired with a raised eyebrow.
Once again that familiar anger she got whenever she dealt with Haskill returned, and she found herself holding back the urge to cut this man's throat only because Sheogorath was nearby, and might send her falling again. "I can read," she snarled, "I just haven't read it yet."
"To reactivate Xedilian for my Lord's pleasure," Haskill carried on, oblivious to her snarling rebuttal. "You'll need to find three Focus Crystals and return them to their resting place. Each Crystal has a matching receptacle called a Judgment Nexus. Even you can't miss them," Haskill sighed. Siena growled at this, but her vocal outburst was ignored again.
"Without the crystals in place, the Resonator of Judgment, Xedilian's power source, cannot be restored," Haskill concluded.
"Care to share the location of this place for me, so I can actually do this?" Siena snapped, pulling the map out of her pack and shoving it at Haskill. Sighing again, the chamberlain unfolded the map he had given her, pointed to a spot on it, and then handed it back. Siena looked at the returned map, finding a dot on the peninsula of Dementia that hadn't been there before.
"You have the Attenuator, the Manual, and a map," Haskill told her, irritation still etched on his face. "I'm certainly not going to carry you there, so I suggest you get to it. My Lord Sheogorath does not like those who lollygag," Haskill paused for a moment in thought. "Or maybe he does? Bah! Just get going." He nudged his head in the direction of the doors, Siena's cue to leave.
"Place one foot in front of the other… you know how it goes," Haskill very nearly growled. Siena did growl back however.
"I know how to move you snobbish s'wit!" Siena cursed, jamming her map back into the pack without caring if it got crinkled up. "I'm just trying to keep myself from killing your annoying ass!"
"Perhaps you should go now," Sheogorath piped up, still lounging on his throne. Siena turned to look at the god, glare never leaving. "Run along. Scoot!"
That was the last straw; even if she could get further information from these two, she was no longer certain she could handle being around them. Snarling like an animal, she whirled away, marching down the nave to where her bow lay unattended. She hoisted it on her back again, not even looking back at them as she made her way up the Dementia stairs to the door.
She only stopped because of a horrid trophy that sat upon a pedestal near the exit. It was a head as big as her torso, clad in an iron mask with spikes jutting out down the middle of the face. She grimly recognized the skin tone; it was like the Gatekeeper's. He kept a replica of the Gatekeeper's head as a trophy! She knew it had to be a replica because the stench was absent, but it was nonetheless despicable.
She looked back at Sheogorath, who wasn't even paying attention to her, shook her head in disgust, and walked out. She was going to be coming from the Mania door from now on, so long as that thing was up on a pedestal.
When she was outside once more, she inhaled deeply and enjoyed the heat of the afternoon sun.
"I told you that was a bad idea," said Belmyne beside her, as she descended the steps back out of the Palace. Siena looked to her side to scowl at her Dunmeri lover, garbed in his typical mage robes. "So now what's the plan, m'love?"
It was a good question; just what did she plan on doing? Her first attempt at revenge had nearly resulted in her death!
"I'll have to be more subtle about it, more tactful. Like an assassin." Siena surmised.
"Okay, sounds good… but how do you plan on doing that?" Belmyne asked again. Siena stopped to lean on one of the columns of the cloister, thinking.
"I'm going to restore Xedilian," she concluded, smiling at Belmyne. "Gain his trust, find out what this change is about, and destroy him when it leaves him at his weakest." Belmyne grinned back.
"Now that sounds like a good plan."