The Daedric War [Closed to Nerussa]

[Syrrus]

The beautiful lands of Tamriel. She had been everywhere by now, but no matter how many times she returned her breath was always stolen from her. She loved it all. The cold and tall moutains of Skyrim, the ash covered land of Morrowind, The deep and adventurous jungles of Elsweyr and the beauty of Alik'r Deserts. Of course, there was more to Tamriel than that, much more with one place more magical than the next.


At this point in time she had traveled to the Imperial lands of Cyrodiil, a place which once had been covered in swamps and tall trees. Now it was a place of merchants and traders, which was why she had gone there, to bargain and deceive. Of course, she wasn't alone in doing this sort of thing, she did in the name of her Daedric Prince and master, Clavicus Vile.


By her side, scratching his ear was a fluffy gray dog. Awaiting her to walk down the hill towards the tall Imperial City. Usually Barbas would be with his master, as Clavicus Vile's power would lesser without him, but since the bosmer woman had become his Champion he had figured the best way to keep his eyes on her, and make sure their bargain wasn't broken was to leave Barbas with her. The dog would occasionally vanish she wouldn't go looking for him. Knowing exactly where he went.


As Gwindareya walked down the hill, Barbas following her closely with tail wagging from side to side, she wondered where she would start. It never took her long to gain enough riches to buy a expensive property and live a luxurious life, but she wanted something more. She wanted to please her prince. It had gone far too long since she had heard the wonderful tunes of his voice and shivered before his implacable accent.


What would be the most difficult bargain?


Her eyes fell upon the White-Gold Tower and her thoughts wandered. Would it truly be possible? No knew where it was located, but if she could get her hands on that particular item then her master would have no other choice but to love her unconditionally.


Question was... how do one get their hands on the Amulet of Kings?

 

[Nerussa]

Well this is a waste.


Throwing down the burned remains of a deer haunch, a dusky-skinned Dunmer woman made a noise of disgust and stomped over to her bedroll. She had been camping outside the Imperial City for several days now, after she ran out of gold to pay for inn rooms. The animals here were stupid and slow, but she had never had to cook her own meals before.


She was an Athren, after all. A noble, and one pledged to House Telvanni at that. Her life up until her flight from Sadrith Mora had been full of servants and spell tomes, she was usually too busy to prepare her dinner. Not that that mattered here, in the forest of a backwoods country where you couldn't even find a good cornerclub.


And no amount of magical and historical knowledge matters when you don't have the coin to stay in a city. Relvese might as well just make her way to the nearest Boethiah shrine and be done with this fool venture of hers. The idea had come to her during her prayers to her Prince, almost like a revelation. Her Prince loved assassinations, so surely overthrowing the current ruler and preforming one of His favorite actions at the same time will gain her enough favor to grant a boon?


Hopefully a boon in the shape of a staff or spell.

 

[Syrrus]

It took a long walk down a hill and across the bridge til Gwin and her partner walked past a Dunmer female, not paying much attention the fluffy dog barked and shook his head. “Woff- I eh.. ahem. You know Gwin, I appreciate you enthusiasm. But do you really think that would be a possible thing to do?” The dog spoke, with a thick accent which put a lot of punctuation on his p's. But that wasn't the odd thing and most people would probably turn their head in surprise, something that Gwin would enjoy big time.


The brown haired Bosmer woman with her tanned skin and emerald eyes looked down at her companion and smiled, softly and lovingly. Barbas was her treasure, not only because he belonged to her Master but also because she ha a small feeling he did more than belonged to Clavicus Vile; he was part of him. The giddy woman bounced with excitement and without thinking too much about it, waved at the Dunmer stranger as they passed. She didn't seem at all bothered that the dog spoke freely, who would believe one single Dunmer in the Imperial capital anyway? No one she couldn't bargain with. She had even managed to device Altmer nobility, and as a Bosmer that was counted as a tricky one.


“Don't you worry honey, I can do anything as long as it will please him.” Gwin responded, spinning around and causing her robe to flutter in the wind like the most beautiful dress, even if it was just made out of skinned foxes, bunnies and wolves and not anything too fancy.

 

[Nerussa]

The Wood Elf had captured Relvese's attention from the moment she crested the hill. That was a very large dog, and not many people strayed this far off the road. She hadn't made a big deal about it though, picking up her knife and getting to work cutting off a new chunk of deer in the vain hope that she'd manage to cook it properly this time.


And then the dog had started talking.


Relvese's knife scraped against the bone, jarring her up to her elbow. She didn't care though, she was too busy watching the pair walk past her. Was she going insane? If she was crazy then the Bosmer was too, but that wasn't saying much given the other woman's race. Those elves were notorious for being mad.


She entertained thoughts of questioning the girl for a minute before thinking better of it. If the dog really was talking then this one something she didn't want to get herself into. She needed to keep her reputation spotless for the time being if she wanted to preform an assassination high-rank enough to get Boethiah's attention.

 

[Syrrus]

Even Gwin realized that entering the capital the first thing she did would be rather foolish. Not because the guards would know her or that she was in any form of trouble, but because she simply didn't want to over work herself. Instead she decided to take a break and go over the old map she had drawn in one of her tomes. Maybe it would have been better to find a shrine before she started working. But she hadn't been to these lands for so very long. It all looked upside down to her, but that Dunmer might have known?


Gwin looked up from her map, throwing a hand into the air. “Excuse me!” She shouted with what sounded like a juvenile voice. “Could you please help me with something?” She sat down in the tall grass and opened her book, looking at the map for what seemed to her to be an age. “I simply can't read my own map anymore” She continued, and looked around herself. “Where did the big tree go?” She frowned to herself. Had there even been a big tree in this area? “The big tree by the lake where all the bandits always hid their treasures like fools? It's near the more... swampy-looking place.” To her the entire land of the Imperial looked like a swamp, she knew it used to look like one, and had been impossible to live in, once upon a time. Not that she was old enough to have seen it with her own eyes. But time had changed even these lands, but it had left a few traces.


Her map was outdated, clearly, or maybe she held it wrong? Gwin turned it and then looked at Barbas who was too busy breathing with his tongue hanging out than to help her find what she was looking for. She had after all asked the Dunmer and not him. And Gwin could never blame Barbas for anything, the adorable little mutt. Not that she had the right to call him such awful things, it was Clavicus Vile's right.

 

[Nerussa]

Relvese scoffed and turned around to look at the Bosmer, dropping the deer but not the knife. "I come from Morrowind, you're going to have to be a bit more specific than 'the tree in the swamp place.'" The Dunmer's voice took on a high-pitched quality as she mocked the elf's last words.


But no, the damned dog was still freaking her out. She couldn't just leave it like that, "Hand me the map, perhaps I can read it better than you." And if not, she can give directions to the opposite side of the island so the s'wit leaves.

 

[Syrrus]

Gwin got up and her dog followed suit. Both of them approached, one more interested than the other. Gwin showed the other female the map and Barbas sat back down on his fluffy behind, eying the stranger up but this time without saying anything. He thought it quite funny that Gwin didn't simply ask him for the way around, after all, he knew where all his Master's shrines were located, it was like knowing where your house is.


“You see, I am looking for the shrine of Clavicus Vile.” She pointed at a heart on her map, frowning slightly. “But the map seems to either be outdated or just... wrong.” Gwins voice went from juvenile to deadly serious in a matter of seconds. It was strange how the woman’s voice could sound like one of a child and instantly turn into one of a strong Mer. Almost as if she wasn't really telling the truth. Barbas knew this to be the reason why his Master favored her in the way he did, she was always unpredictable and could device anyone with her bargaining skill.

 

[Nerussa]

"This map is horribly outdated." And probably just plain wrong.





The map had been scribbled in the pages of a book, and made little sense. Relvese could see how the Bosmer had gotten confused, but she was on the wrong side of Lake Rumare. She pulled out her own map and unrolled it, stabbing at one of the dots across the lake from the Waterfront. "Here's the Shrine you're looking for, go south to the end of the island and cross the lake. It should be just off the Gold Road."


After a faint hesitation Relvese continued, voice disdainful. "These Outlanders hate daedra worshippers so don't expect it to be as grand as the ones in Morrowind or wherever you've been before here." Not that she knew what exactly constituted a shrine to Clavicus Vile.


Boethiah's statues were meant to be grand things, with twisting spires and sharp rocks to pin sacrifices to. His likeness was the least important part of the shrine but it at least had to exist for him to speak through. The Telvanni retainer had only spend a few short years at the shrine on Khartag Point before coming to Tamriel.

 

[Syrrus]

“Oh, that explains it.” She snickered to herself and looked down at Barbas. “I told you we weren't completely lost!” The bog simply tilted his head, barked once and then continued to watch a nearby butterfly. He wasn't frustrated with the Bosmer, he knew very well why she didn't just ask him for directions. She saw him as a part of his Master, which was why she treated him the way she did. Spoiling him with food and beds he didn't actually need. But it was nice too, he wasn't used to be spoiled by anyone.


“Thank you, miss Dunmer. I will not forget your kindness.” She closed the tome and put it back where it belonged, against her hip, tied to the belt. “Say, that's an impressive hunt you got there, Hircine himself would be proud. And I know... But people doesn't need to know how much I love my Deadric Prince, if they over heard me I'd just convince them they heard wrong. Isn't that right, Barbas.” Gwin smiled down at the dog who looked back up at her and nodded silently.

 

[Nerussa]

Relvese delivered a sharp kick to the flank of the deer. "The deer here are fat and dumb. There's obviously poaching laws enforced on the island the Imperial City sits on." She kept her face stoic and her body relaxed, but inside she was hyperaware and freaking out.


Barbas. As in the shapeshifting daedra that housed half of a Prince's power. It took all of the Dunmer's self-control not to pounce on the dog and deliver it to Boethiah. She knew it wouldn't work out like she planned, however. Even with her Ancestral Guardian to even the difference, there was still the fact that she wasn't wearing her armor or robes.


"Blessings upon your house, sera. And feel free to take some of the deer for your hound."

 

[Syrrus]

“Why, thank you. But no. I think he'll be fine.” She smiled and patted Barbas on the head, causing him to wag his tail eagerly before getting up and beginning to walk towards his Master's shrine. It was going to be quite nice seeing him again - even though they had a lot of arguments; still nice. “I hope our paths will cross again.” Gwin said, waved and hurried after the hound.


“Well, it's been a good few cycles of the moon” Barbas mumbled to himself in the well-rounded humanoid tone that defied his canine jaw structure, “but I'm sure Clavicus feels different about our little disagreement.” He continued to wag his tail tentatively – he was feeling optimistic. Despite the Bosmer who wouldn't take his word, he was feeling optimistic. Surely Vile wouldn't send someone to kill him... that was getting old.

 

[Nerussa]

Attribution's Share was a place not many people would think to visit. The sky was a permanent grey haze, different shades swirling over each other and forming the illusion of clouds. The plane was primarily lava, with islands made of obsidian providing the few places capable of holding life. The largest island held a keep larger than the Imperial City, where Boethiah's closest disciples and Daedra lived. Boethiah was rumored to live there himself, but no one had ever seen a room that belonged to the Prince more than the whole plane did.


And that was because Boethiah didn't sleep there. No, he was far too paranoid for that. Instead, he took one of the many jagged spires poiting towards the Keep, hollowed it out, and made a small office house. It wasn't glamorous, but it was safe.


And that was where Boethiah wanted to be right now, not listening to the moans of his Hungers as they plotted their next foolish raid on Moonshadow. Oh how they schemed and shrieked at each other, trying desperately to find a way in that wouldn't involve their immediate eradication at the claws of the Winged Twilights.


His life had been boring lately, and that just wouldn't do. One of his favoured subjects had visited his Cyrodiil shrine a few months ago, but he had no use for it and sent it on it's way. He needed something grand, something destructive.


He needed to visit one of his fellow lords.

 

[Syrrus]

The realm of Clavicus Vile was a place unlike many of the other Prince’s realms. Where those more overt in their purposes, such as Mehrunes Dagon, would build their worlds wrought with fire and brimstone, Vile’s existed to the untrained eye as endless rolling plains of countryside. The occasional town would dot the landscape upon hills and through vales that seemed to be of significance, the buildings of which were of esoteric shape and formed from what appeared (at a distance, at least) to be glass.


However, like the master who presided over it and the bargains which were his influence, Vile’s realm was hardly as pleasant as it seemed. Those glinting spires which so prettily punctuated his domain were not populated… not in the traditional sense. The material from which the towns were wrought were, in truth, soul gems: nigh-endless filled soul gems, hewn into monuments to the god’s silver tongue by unseen Daedric worshippers; built, from his prizes. As one would walk through them, they might hear voices – screams for mercy, pleas for forgiveness; each and every soul living without their lesson learned, seeking the right bargain to free themselves.


In the most grandiose of these structures sat Clavicus himself. Most often, he chose an impish form, but today he was expecting company and had thus chosen the shape of an unnaturally-tall Bosmeri male, winged and horned so as to further his imperious visage. What he had not anticipated, in the midst of plans to receive the Prince of Deceit into his realm, was for the Mad God to appear, unannounced.


“Why the long face, Clav’?” Sheogorath chuckled, pouring tea from a fine china pot. The Prince of Madness (who took the deceptively unassuming guise of an old cripple in garishly-colored garb) had parked himself belligerently on the floor in front of Clavicus’ throne, insistent that they partake in tea and cakes despite the protests of his host. “You’d almost think you didn’t want me here.”


“Whatever gave you THAT idea, ‘Mad God’?” Clavicus drummed his fingers impatiently against his arm rest. Beneath where his fingers came to bear, lights would swirl and spread in a patina under the crystal, the souls under his command drawn in rhythm to his impatient tapping. Regardless of his frustration he would not banish Sheogorath. Much to the chagrin of most every Daedric Prince, they had learned in ages past that his more harmless whims were not to be challenged – ‘lest they bring his fury instead.

 

[Nerussa]

The hungers chittered and crowded around him as he passed by, begging for a portal. It took some groveling before he obliged them, giving them a pathway to a shrine that had recently displeased him. It wasn't Moonshadow like they wanted, but it was safer and they'd last a few weeks longer before they realised they had made a terrible decision.


He kept the portal open after they had left, spelling it to cycle through the realms of his fellow Princes. Who should he visit today? After a minute the portal slowed to a stop on the Shivering Isles, Boethiah even took a step towards the portal before letting it turn to Vile's realm. His darling Prince of Trickery was always good for a laugh or two, and he didn't feel up to dealing with Sheogorath's particular brand of "amusement" today.


The god shifted his form to his tried and true Dunmer form, flipping the ponytail over his shoulder and straightening the long cloak. He decided to forgo carrying Goldbrand for the trip, recalling it so soon after passing it off to a pilgrim would just seem cruel.


Done preparing, he stepped through the portal and into the plane that belonged to Clavicus Vile. When the portal had finished spitting him out he stood in a hall outside Vile's throne room. He shrugged off the weight from the portal and threw the doors open. "Clavicus, I need your help."

 

[Syrrus]

Clavicus looked up, his sallow eyes turning their gaze towards his new guest. He had felt the prince's presence before he had opened the door. It wasn't often he had two important guests in his realm, especially with both of them arriving unannounced. “Boethiah, to what do I-”


“BOETHIAH! Look what the cat dragged in by the smallclothes, come all the way over here for some tea with me and Clav'? That is what you did... isn't it?” Sheogorath's voice bobbed up and down like the ocean during a storm, and even though it frustrated Clavicus Vile that he had been interrupted, he would hardly confront the Madgod about it, considering that he was apparently possessed of the patience to endure the 'tea party' itself.


Clavicus could wish for nothing more than that Boethiah might bring some entertaining disractions to the table - something that he could spend a few decades on. Maybe something including taking the moral plane and making it his own? It had been quite a while since he had personally been able to deceive such a great number of mortals... only one or two dull followers who wanted this and that.


“What can I do for you, Boethiah? Or more pertinently... what can you do for me?”