SubRosa- That's actually what I was doing at first, but I've decided to just go slow and enjoy it. I'm glad you're enjoying it

mAXL1- You'll find out about the various women soon enough I think you'll enjoy what I have coming up in a few chapters

hauteecole rider- I was going to include the walk, but I just figured I'd have him show up at Crucible since there's plenty of walking involved in the other quests

GC Rust- Thank you! I know it was a bit odd to make it so, but 1) I had an idea for the power received when you walk through the Mania gate and 2) it's a shorter route to New Sheoth if you take the Dementia path and Wrothken can be pretty lazy about walking

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The palace of New Sheoth was glamorous compared to Crucible. The castle and walls were made from grey brick. The right side was lit with blue flames and more Mazken walked around. On the left, gold dominated the area, with bright flame and gold skinned women wearing gold armor.

The area was silent and serene, though Wrothken sensed hostility. He watched the women carefully, noticing the hate in their eyes any time they looked at each other.

"Mortal!"

He jumped, seeing a golden woman walk up to him. She was nothing like the Mazken he spoke to before. She seemed to look down upon him. "What business do you have here?"

"Sheogorath--"

"Lord Sheogorath to you, Mortal."

"Okay... Lord Sheogorath wanted to see me."

She huffed. "Are you the one who slayed the Gatekeeper?"

He nodded.

"Very well. He is in the center doors of the palace. Now go."

Wrothken stared at her as she walked away. Who lit the fuse on her... Oh forget it, he thought walking down the path to the doors. There were two of them with a woman from each group standing guard. The Mazken smiled at him as he approached, and the other one glared. He walked to the Mazken.

"Don't let the Aureal get to you. Their attitudes are most disgraceful to our Lord Sheogorath."

"Aureal?"

She sneered at a passing gold woman. "The so-called Golden Saints. One day, Lord Sheogorath will finally recognize their bull-headed stupidity and expel them from the Realm."

He nodded and entered the castle.

Just like outside, the interior was divided. The right side had yellow flames and the carpet was bright red. The left, was lit by blue fire and had black carpet. The carpets went right up into the throne where a man sat. "Well, look who's here! You! How about that?" he cried. Wrothken recognized his voice from the door in Cyrodiil.

He was clapping as Wrothken approached. He appeared to be a wise man, with gray hair neatly slicked back, a distinguished beard, and a few wrinkles. However, one look in his amber eyes told him he was exactly the opposite.

"A new arrival!" He shouted, clapping him on the back. "A shame about my Gatekeeper. I'm so happy, I could just tear out your intestines and strangle you with them."

Wrothken felt a chill inside and he wanted to take a step back, but Sheogorath had his arm firmly around him.

"I suppose an introduction is in order. I'm Sheogorath, Prince of Madness! And other things. I'm not talking about them." He said, folding his arms. "You've probably figured that out by now. Let's hope so. Or we're in real trouble... and out come the intestines. And I skip rope with them! But, perhaps now's not the time. You've made it this far. Farther than anyone else. Well done! Take this trinket of mine. Perhaps it will serve you well. Or look lovely on your corpse." He handed Wrothken a copper amulet. It felt warm and when Wrothken put it on, he felt a light tingling sensation around his skin.

Sheogorath didn't wait for Wrothken to say anything before continuing. "I've been waiting for you, or someone like you, or someone other than you, for some time. I need a champion, and you've got the job," he said, poking Wrothken in the chest. "Time to save the Realm! Rescue the damsel! Slay the beast! Or die trying. Your help is required. A change is coming. Everything changes. Even Daedric Princes. Especially Daedric Princes."

"Change?" He asked. "What kind of change?"

"Daedra are the embodiment of change. Change and permanency. I'm no different, except in the ways that I am. The Greymarch is coming. And you're going to stop it."

"The what?"

"The details aren't important. At least not right now. Eternity is on a rather tight deadline. We'll get back to that later."

Wrothken's head was spinning. To say this man was off-balance was an understatement. He wanted something stopped, yet the details weren't important? He didn't press because he wasn't sure what would happen, what with talk of skipping rope with intestines...

"Okay, so what should I do now?" Wrothken asked.

"Now? You run an errand for me. An important one. Of course, anything I tell you to do is important. My Realm, my rules. You're going to Xedilian, one of my favorite spots in the Isles. It's a little place I use to take care of unwanted visitors. And some are more unwanted than others."

Wrothken wasn't sure if he had been one of those "unwanted visitors," but if it would keep his innards in place, he was willing to do anything.

"What's in Xedilian?"

"The Gatekeeper took care of most of the unwanted, but he's dead. We'll have to remedy that soon, as well...." He cleared his throat. "Anyway... there are those that have other ways into my Realm, and they're on the move. We don't want them here. Trust me. So, you're going to get Xedilian up and running. Here's a little book to tell you how, and the Attenuator of Judgement. You'll need that, too." He handed Wrothken what appeared to be a tuning fork and a book. "Of course, you can always get more details from Haskill. He's a detail-oriented type of person. A big help. And a snappy dresser. Now, get going. Before I change my mind. Or my mind changes me."

Wrothken looked at Haskill. There was no way he was going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he was confused.

He opened the book and headed back to Crucible.



The book caught Wrothken's full attention. Not only did it explain what exactly to do, it showed a few sides to Sheogorath. The writer seemed almost fearful of any consequences he might pay for any mistake. Just as he was about to turn the page, he collided with someone, knocking her to the ground.

He gasped, seeing Kalila glaring up at him. She was dressed the same way as before, only her pants were rolled up, exposing her toned legs. "Oh.. I'm so sorry! Here," he said, holding his hand out.

She ignored it, and got up on her own. Her eyes were like daggers, saying everything her mouth wasn't. She turned andheaded away from him. It took awhile to realize that he was staring after her. He regained control of himself and shook his head violently. Maybe it was her stark contrast to Awour that was attracting him to her, but he promised Bernice that he would be careful... though there was no harm in looking, right?

He sat down outside a shop and pulled out his map. Xedilian was a ways away, located southeast of Passwall. He was happy to see that Knotty Bramble was on the way. As he folded up his map, he heard someone call to him.

"Hey you!"

He looked over at a blond man hiding around the building's corner. "Come over here. I need to talk to you."

Wrothken looked around and walked up to him. "Yes?"

"I've got a proposition for you. Best not to talk about it here. Meet me at the sewer grate northeast of the Sheogorath statue. Come after dark. Come alone." He then walked away.

Wrothken stared after him. What was the proposition? And why did he want it alone and night? Well, there was the obvious... But he didn't think it was that. The man looked and sounded miserable. He shrugged. There was no time to think about it now. He had a few important errands to run.

Xedillian! My favorite place in all the Isles! Oh what fun we'll have.

Woo Hoo! I love the way you did the encounter with Kalila! He seems to have a weakness for the raven-haired ladies, lol.

Poor Wrothken! Seems he turns into such a bumbling fool around women he most wants to impress!

GC Rust- It's one of my favorite quests in the Isles, so of course I had to play through it a couple times ^^

mAXL1- And his encounters will only get more interesting. She is a resident of Dementia, after all...

hauteecole rider- Oh yes he does. Poor thing. Personally, I think that's adorable, but Kalila does not.

~~~~♥~~~~

I'm sorry it's taken so long for this chapter. I've been a bad combination of busy and sick, so I didn't get a lot of writing time To make it up, this one is longer.

~~~~~~~~♥~~~~~~~



As Wrothken walked the dreary path toward Knotty Bramble, he finally had time to think. Sheogorath chose him as his champion. How he would love to go home and shove that in people's faces. Champion of a Daedric Prince. A completely insane one at that! That had to come with perks and boy, would Awour be sorry then!

He imagined strolling down the walk in Kvatch dressed in fine clothes, Kalila on his arm-- He blushed, thankful no one was around to see it. What could it be about her that drew him in? Sure, there was the parallel to Awour, but wast there anything else? He often heard girls telling each other that the best way to get over a guy was to get under another one. Could that be true for him as well? He smiled, knowing that he wouldn't mind one bit finding that out.

He looked down at his map and saw that he was close to Knotty Bramble. He looked to his left and saw nothing. He walked over a hill and was just about to leave when he caught sight of a round spot attached underneath the tangled roots of a tree. The circle was covered in shiny bumps and couldn't be a natural part of the tree. It had to be the entrance to Knotty Bramble. Remembering Bernice mention something called grummites, he took out his mace and raised his shield, and he went in.

The interior was among the strangest places he'd ever been to. Inside the tree, other plants flourished, as it the tree were merely a host. Everywhere he turned, he ran into giant mushrooms, or glowing orbs as big as his head. He came to a fork in the tunnel, but one was blocked off by roots. He tried hammering his way through, but the roots were too strong. He had no choice but to go the other way.

As he headed into the depths of the tunnels, he came across one of the goblin-fish creatures. Those must have been the grummites. It was walking toward him, when their eyes met. The grummite ran up to him, wasting no time as it began to hack at the air between them. Wrothken watched it and when its arm was down, he gripped the mace tightly and slammed its arm and then lifted it back up, hitting its head.

Two more waited for him further down. The moment they saw him coming, they rushed him, slashing him so fast, he could barely get any hits in. They're fast little bastards, he thought. He kicked one of them hard and focused more on the one still in front of him. As it became worn down, the other came back, but it was easier to deal with a quick one and a weakened one than it was to deal with two of them at their prime.

He wandered around until he came across another door similar to the one leading outside. Once he opened it, he heard the sound of water.

His heart rose as he followed the sound. He was on a higher level with the pool directly below him. For a second, he considered just jumping in, but he decided against it due to his armor and not knowing how deep or shallow it was.

A few grummites took notice of him and after beating them, he took out the flask and he made sure to fill it to the top. He closed it tightly and put it away. "That was simple enough," he said, walking back to the exit. Then he noticed several egg sacks floating in the water. He frowned, realizing that the grummites were probably just protecting their eggs. He felt slightly bad, but he knew he couldn't beat himself up over it. If he didn't defend himself, the grummites would have killed him without any remorse at all.



Daylight greeted him as he stepped back outside. He wondered for a moment if he should run back to Crucible and give Bernice her cure, but he decided against it. He didn't want to risk Sheogorath's anger by taking too long.

As usual, while he was walking, unbidden thoughts crept into his mind. He wondered if Awour noticed he was gone? She must have, he thought. You don't go from seeing someone daily to not seeing them at all and not wondering about it. He also wondered if Awour did anything to set Kirsty off.

Wrothken remembered when he told Kirsty what happened. He had been crying so hard that his words were incoherent so he had to repeat himself several times, which just made him cry more. Kirsty was furious. Someone once told him that girls with red hair have the worst temper. Whoever said that obviously never met Kirsty. Either that or they made her so angry that they never had the chance to tell the tale. The short brunette was livid and Wrothken only stopped crying because he didn't have the strength to bawl and hold her in her chair. He begged her not to do anything but she wouldn't promise. She said she couldn't and then started to rant about how girls like Awour were the reason she can't stand to be around other women. She swore up and down that if Awour said one word or even glance at her the wrong way, she was going to beat her into the next era.

It wouldn't have been so bad if she had just been honest instead of sneaking around. He didn't even know how long it had been going on. Part of him wanted to go back and ask, but he was afraid of the answer. He didn't want to hear that it was for months or with multiple people. He didn't want to worry that it was his fault or that he just wasn't good enough. He had been far too scared to find out the truth, even though hated asking himself why or what he did to cause it.

He shook his head, remembering that he banished her from his mind. Besides, there was plenty of other fish in the sea. Of course, the first image to pop in his mind was Kalila. He could tell she didn't like him, but what he would give to spend some time with her and get her to give him a chance. He grinned. Maybe it was the fact that Bernice had warned him about her. It gave her the "forbidden fruit" appeal. If he could get Kalila to go to Kvatch with him and rent a room somewhere.... Oh, that would get Awour's panties in such a twist! She was jealous enough over Kirsty, but if he was openly with someone else? It gave him momentary happiness, but then his heart sank as he realized that she probably wouldn't care. After all, she was the one who left him, not the other way around. Even still... he thought. He knew he wanted to get close to Kalila, if not to make Awour jealous, then to at least keep his mind occupied.



The bridge leading into Xedilian was guarded by a grummite. Wrothken was taken by surprise; he had been expecting adventurers, if anyone, to be there instead. After taking care of it, he proceeded inside.

It was nearly black inside. Wrothken was faced with the choice of stumbling blindly or using his shield. He set his shield down by the door and hoped he wouldn't need it. Taking out a torch, he walked up to the door. He tried pushing it open, but it wouldn't budge. It was metal, not wood, so he couldn't break it down. "What in Oblivion...?" he muttered, feeling the door for a knob. Eventually he came across a brick with a red face sticking out slightly. He pressed it and the door opened up right away. He made a mental note to keep an eye out for more of those.

The old fort looked like something he would have seen in Cyrodiil. Old tapestries hung on the walls, though they looked like they were once fiery red, they were now covered in mold and dust. At one point, a gold crest decorated the bottom of each tapestry, but he could only see the faint tracings. Every corner was home to a large, smelly mounds that Wrothken tried his best to avoid, as he didn't want to imagine what it was for.

It wasn't long until he came to a room with three grummites inhabiting it. Two of them wielded daggers and the other simply disappeared before Wrothken's eyes. He was so surprised, that he didn't react in time to the two quick ones. They nearly backed him into a wall with their attacks. He tried focusing on one at a time, but it was harder than he thought, as they kept bouncing up as they hacked at him. He finally finished them off and looked around for any sign of the invisible one. He got his hint as soon as he was struck with lightening. His body tingled painfully as he caught sight of the last grummite. It held a long spear with a crystal at the end of it. A focus crystal, he thought. He ran over to it, not even caring about the mound of filth it stood on, and he took it out with a blow to the head.

He picked up the crystal and looked around, trying to find where it belonged. He found it in the next room, where a round altar sat with a faint glow at the top. He placed it on the glow and it floated there, making a soft humming sound.

One down, two to go.

He headed down the stairs were he saw three more grummites. They were facing a fire pit with three large totem poles in the center. They bowed and occasionally made movements as if they were having seizures. Wrothken tried looked beyond them to see if there was a way he could sneak around them, but it was too dark to tell. His only choice was to go in and look for himself.

Like he expected, the moment the grummites saw him, they rushed to attack. Two of them came at him with their daggers and the third remained behind as it readied its bow and arrows. This time, he was more prepared. He was able to get good hits on the first one, taking it down quicker. The other one required more time, and it was happy that the other grummite obviously couldn't see him, as the arrows flew feet away. Once he took care of the second one, he headed for the archer. It didn't even try to run away as he bludgeoned it to death.

As he walked, he started feeling a prickling in the back of his neck. It felt like something was behind him, but each time he turned, there was no one. It made him wonder if there was another invisible grummite silently stalking him, waiting for the perfect time to strike. He could almost see it every time he started walking.

"Oh, snap out of it!" He said. "Stupid place is making you paranoid."

He came to a split in the path. Two metal doors were on either side and a push block was directly in front of him. He looked at either one, wondering which it opened.

Only one way to find out...

He pressed the button. only to feel the floor vanish from beneath him. He landed hard on his back, crying out when he saw the body of a dead grummite.

He sat up, clutching his throbbing head. It took him a few moments to focus properly in order to fully heal himself.

There was no way to get back up to where he was, so he walked around, hoping for the best. He was half relieved when he found another trio of grummites, one wielding a crystal staff. He almost laughed when the staff user was in such a hurry to attack, it accidentally shocked one of the grummites to death. This time, Wrothken took out the staff user, just to ensure it didn't turn invisible on him. After that, he took care of the other one. Once again, he attached the focus crystal to another nearby altar. Just one more.

The halls led him to another room with a couple of grummites. He was starting to get used to them and found it a lot easier to dispatch them. Inside the room, there was a flight of stairs leading to no where, leading Wrothken to think that it might have been a throne room once. He was about to leave when a sparkle caught his eye from the top of the stairs. Curious, he went to check it out.

The sparkle came from a round topaz. His heart sank. He used to call Awour his precious topaz, due to her golden skin and hair. He chucked it across the room.

The next place he came to was a large door that opened normally. He wanted to be relieved that he was almost done but the topaz, and the memories associated with it, was bothering him. Instead, grummites relieved him, since he could easily take his anger out on them instead.

He bashed them in repeatedly until the halls were cleared. With the last crystal in place, let out a loud sigh of relief. All he had to do was tune the crystal and he could go and relax. After glancing down at his beat up armor, he added something else to his to-do list.

Walking down the hall, he heard the all too familiar croaks of grummites. Just as he thought, a group of three grummites guarded the resonator at the end of the room. He was so tired, but the thought of a hot bath at Bernice's gave him the drive to go forward and fight. The first two were dagger-users and the last was an archer. The two grummites hopped up in his face, repeatedly slashing at him. At that point, he stopped trying to focus on one at a time and just delivered the beatings to whoever was closest. The archer remained where it was, pelting him with arrows. He wished he had the shield with him, but there was no use in that. Wishing it wouldn't get it to him. Instead, he just had to dodge the arrows until he got to the grummite.

Just like the last archer, it didn't run or switch weapons. It took the beating until its death.

Wrothken took out the Attenuator of Judgment and hit the cluster of crystals once. Immediately, it began to hum loudly. The sound was so pleasant that Wrothken strongly considered taking a nap underneath it. He wanted to so badly, but since he was finished, he was ready to leave Xedilian.

To his right a door opened up, revealing a red glowing tile. He went to look at it, hoping it was an exit, but there was no door underneath it. He was going to head back, but the door shut behind him and wouldn't budge. He banged on it repeatedly until he remembered the red push block from when he first entered. All he had to do was push this one and he would be home free! Since it was on the floor, he assumed it would need a lot of weight to activate it. he stood on it and suddenly, he only saw bright red shimmers before him. Time to relax, he thought happily.

When he opened his eyes, he expected to see the beautiful sky and the path that would lead him to Crucible. His eyes widened and he looked around, halfway hoping that he did actually go to sleep beneath the resonator, and was just dreaming. Sadly, his aching body told him otherwise. Instead of being outside, he saw that he was still inside the fort, only there was a Dunmer with him.

He walked up to him with a wide smile and said, "Finally, Lord Sheogorath has sent someone to assist me! But where are my manners?" He cleared his throat, muttering, "Must get into my professional tone..." He cleared his throat once more and spoke in a deeper, more even voice. "Welcome to Xedilian, I'm the dungeon caretaker, Kiliban Nyrandil."

Wrothken sighed deeply. "Why am I still in here?"

"Xedilian would normally have sent you back to the entrance when you stepped on the pad in the Resonator Chamber. Since you're up here, I can only surmise that adventurers are already entering the dungeon as we speak." Kiliban seemed almost pleased.

"That's nice, but that doesn't really explain why I'm still here."

"I'm afraid until the adventurers are dealt with, Xedilian will keep you here. Even I can't will its doors to open. To put it bluntly, you're stuck here for the moment. No disrespect intended."

He sighed. His bath would have to wait. "Alright. How do I deal with them? Should I just go out there and tell them to shoo?"

Kiliban laughed. "Oh, heavens no! The adventurers must go through a cycle. All you need to do is decide what becomes of them. Will you drive them insane or will you pull the life from their bodies?"

"What?"

"Here," Kiliban held his arm and led him to a transportation tile. They arrived in another area overlooking a large room with a small tree-creature. "Now, these adventurers seek a place to live here in the Isles. Since that horrid Gatekeeper isn't around anymore, it's become easy for just anyone to stroll in and set up shop. As you know, Lord Sheogorath only welcomes those He sees fit for residency. Now, it's up to you to decide whether or not they're worthy." He patted him on the shoulder. "I bet you're just tickled pink! Now, about the buttons. When you push the appropriate button, an event will unfold for the adventurers to experience. One is physically harmful... usually lethal traps or creatures... something relished by the residents of Dementia. The other choice is more mental. They are designed to make the adventurers lose their grip on reality, much like the residents of Mania."

"I see..." Wrothken stared at the tiny creature. He wanted to know just how something so small could cause insanity.

"Oh, look! Here they come!" Kiliban said.

A group of three men entered. The first was an Orc in a suit of Orcish armor. He carried a large claymore on his back. The second to enter was an Dunmer wearing aqua robes, and the last was a brown-haired man. Wrothken couldn't tell what race he was.

"...now keep your weapons ready and watch your backs. Do what I say, and we might just get outta here alive." The Orc said to the other two.

They stopped and stared at the small creature. The Orc began to laugh.

"Awwww.... ain't it cute! What in Oblivion is that thing?" He continued laughing.

"This is one of the 'horrid guardians' of which the stories spoke?" The third man asked.

"Be careful," the Dunmer warned. "There may be more to this creature than meets the eye."

Kiliban nudged Wrothken. "Press a button," he whispered.

Wrothken looked at both of them. One was smiling and one was frowning. Self-defense was one thing, but he couldn't bring himself to decide to kill them just for fun. He pressed the smiling button.

"What a joke," the Orc said, walking past it. "Let's be rid of this thing and continue on our way."

Wrothken heard a faint hiss, but he didn't think they could hear it. The other men did double takes at the small creature.

"Are my eyes playing tricks, or is the creature growing?"

It didn't look any bigger to Wrothken. He looked at Kiliban, who was smiling widely. "The button you pressed released hallucinogenic spore gas into the chamber. It's tricking them into believing the creature means to kill them. Don't worry, its bark is far worse than its bite." He chuckled at his little joke.

Wrothken looked back at the chamber where the men were scrambling, desperately trying to get away from the creature. The hissing soon stopped. The adventurers calmed down and the creature crawled into a corner.

The Dunmer panted hard. "All this time it was merely an illusion," he said wiping sweat from his brow. "How clever."

The Orc turned around and walked slowly toward the other man. "Wait... what's wrong with Lewin?"

Lewin was on the ground, huddled in the fetal position. He stared after the creature. "...ma-makes no sense...should be d-dead...what...who..."

The Dunmer frowned. He walked over to the Orc, placing his hand on his shoulder. "I think this place got to him... perhaps we should leave."

The Orc shook his head. "We'll pick him up on the way out. He'll have to fend for himself."

The remaining men entered another room, leaving Lewin behind.

"Watching them run from the Giant Gnarl gets me every time," Kiliban said happily. "Another chamber, another victim to eliminate. Hurry, the anticipation is overwhelming!" He led Wrothken to the next platform.



The first thing Wrothken saw was a pile of gold and jewels the size of Kirsty's bakery. Instantly, he made a mental list of all the things he could buy with such a large amount. The only problem was that it was locked up in a large cage. When the Orc and Dunmer entered the room, Wrothken knew they were thinking the same thing.

"Look!" The Orc pointed. "I told you! Treasure! Let's have at it, Syndelius."

They ran up the flight of stairs leading to it. The Orc grabbed hold of the bars and shook them hard. "Blast! The cage is locked. If only Lewin were here... he could get us through this in no time."

Syndelius reached through the bars, but he quickly pulled back, hissing in pain. "It's hot! Do you think you can pry the door open?"

The Orc descended the stairs. "Forget it! This is obviously a trick! Let's get out of here."

Wrothken looked at Kiliban, who nodded his head. He pushed the smiling button.

"To be so close, and yet so far. If only we had the key! Wait.. do you hear something?"

A vague jingling sound started to grow louder and louder until hundreds, maybe thousands, of keys spilled to the floor.

Syndelius whooped loudly. "Look! Keys! One of them must open the gate! We're rich!"

The Orc flooded his arms. "Let's get out of here, Syndelius. This is obviously a trick to waste our time!"

"I'll know it when I see it! Yes... it must be here!"

The Orc grabbed his arm. "They're all fake! Just come with me now!"

Powered by his lust for gold, he wrenched free and dug through the keys. "...find it... yes... I must find the key... rich beyond all my dreams..." He laughed under his breath.

"Bah! Suit yourself!" The Orc shot him a dirty look and walked off.

"Must find the key! Must find the key!" Syndelius sung.

Kiliban chuckled. "Too bad none of those keys fit the lock... hahahaha! Last chamber... this should be entertaining."



After getting on the pad, Wrothken was transported to a room that looked like it had been taken from nightmares. The floors and parts of the wall was stained with blood. Rotting corpses were hanging from their neck or attached to the walls. Some were scattered across the floor. Wrothken had to fight to keep his breakfast down.

The Orc walked down the stairs, obviously a little disturbed. "Steady, Grommok... steady," he said to himself. "You've been through worse before. What more could this place possibly throw at you?"

Wrothken was afraid of what it would do, but he pressed the smiling button. Purple light flashed and Grommok fell to the ground. His spirit stepped out of his body, looking at it in horror.

"What!? How in Oblivion can I be dead? This is impossible! Nothing killed me!" He cried out a little, looking around the room. "I didn't even get a chance to fight! No chance to defend myself? No chance for battle? Why? Impossible! This is impossible... Grommok has never lost a fight! Never!" He knelt down, clasping his head. "No! This is all wrong! This isn't how it's supposed to be!"

The light flashed again and Gromok was back in his body. He didn't seem to notice at all. He kept mumbling to himself.

Kiliban patted Wrothken on the back. "You've made short work of the intruders. Sheogorath should be proud to have such an efficient apprentice." He led him to the last pad.



They arrived in another room that was near the entrance. Kiliban stood in front of a large chest. "As is the tradition, you are to be awarded a focus crystal as a token of your fine work. I'll have it sent to the palace and placed in the main hall, if you wish to take a look at it."

"Alright... and you mentioned some earnings?"

"Oh, yes... of course. It seems a most unusual weapon was recovered from the Orc warrior, Grommok. Never seen anything like it, but perhaps his journal can give you some useful information. Beyond that, take whatever else you need from the recovery chest... you've earned it!"

Wrothken opened the chest, hoping the unusual weapon would be a battle axe or a hammer. He was disappointed to see a large claymore with a violet gem on the guard. He held it up, admiring its beauty. It was a lovely weapon and since he had no use for it, at least he could sell it for a decent price. Among the other treasures, he found an amulet, fifty gold, some lock picks, and a strange black cube with swirling blue patterns all over it.

"You're free to go at any time of course, just up that hallway," Kiliban said shaking his hand. "Good luck to you!"

Wrothken nodded and was relieved to be able to go home. As he walked down the hall, he heard a harsh, metallic scraping. Before his eyes, a large crystal rose from the ground. He found it strange, but he kept going. Within seconds three strange beings ran at him. It looked as if their armor and weapons were made from the crystal. They didn't utter a sound as the descended on Wrothken, attacking with long lances. Kiliban must have heard the commotion as well. He gasped when he saw them and began flinging spells at the men. Once they were down, Kiliban rushed to check on him.

"That was quite a battle. I hope you are uninjured."

Wrothken looked at his armor. It was dented and cracked badly. "I'm fine, I guess. Who were those people?"

"You've not heard the legends? How could that be?" Kiliban looked at the men in disgust. "Those "people" as you call them aren't people at all. They are the soulless abominations known as the Knights of Order," he spat.

"Knights of Order?" Wrothken tilted his head.

Kiliban didn't answer. Instead, he pushed him toward the door. "You must proceed to Sheogorath at once and tell him the Knights have returned! Quickly now... go!"

He pushed Wrothken out and slammed the door shut. He had a sinking feeling in his stomach. These Knights of Order must mean very bad news.

They're fast little bastards, he thought. He kicked one of them hard and began to


Began to...what?

Regarding combat with heavy weapons.... be careful describing upswing thrusts with heavy weapons. Yes, you CAN do that, but it's slow and not very effective except in certain areas, such as an uppercut type blow against the chin.

Oh goodness! Thanks for catching that. And I'll keep the upward swings in mind for next time

Again, well done with the character development.

I hated Xedilian - the choices between madness or death just didn't sit well with me. On the one hand, I didn't like picking death for these guys (hey, that could be me down there!); on the other hand, madness isn't necessarily that much better. Ugh.

And I agree with D.Foxy's assessment. Careful with the upswings, especially with a heavy metal weapon in your hand. The way the muscles in the arm and shoulder are set up, movement downwards and sideways tend to be quicker than movement upwards. When I write my combat scenes, I generally have my character slice from side to side rather than chop from above. It's easier for her to keep her balance and to keep herself covered with her shield. Feels to me that it would be easier to convert a slice to a stab when she is centered over her feet.

If you want to make your combat scenes read better, I'd suggest you read D.Foxy's http://www.gamesas.com/index.php?/topic/1037618-of-blades-fights-and-assassins/. It really helped me!

An additional comment: I really liked how you had Wrothken reflect on his interaction with Kirsty and how she wanted to go after Awour for hurting her friend - he had to stop crying to calm her down? Wonder how long it takes for him to realize that he's found his soul mate in this feisty lady?

I just finished Foxy's thread and it has been bookmarked. I'm pretty amazed by how much you know about all this, Foxy. It's a great help! :goodjob:

Kirsty wiped the counter impatiently, though she had just cleaned it fifteen minutes ago. Wrothken had been gone for a few days and not one single letter from him, letting her know he was okay. He was a big boy and could take care of himself, but still. He promised.

She watched the delivery man and his sack of letters pass the bakery yet again. She huffed and threw the rag down hard. As soon as he came back, she was going to kick his ass.

A sweet, spicy scent filled the area, letting her know that the sweet rings were done. She carefully took them out and set them in a basket that sat on the counter. A few people were already starting to gather and in moments they were sold out. Some left disappointed that the latest favorite was gone, but Kirsty was happy to sell them chocolate filled croissants or apple-spiced muffins instead.

She almost forgot her sour mood when a certain harlet entered with another other girl. Kirsty took a deep slow breath, trying hard not to fantasize about jumping over the counter and beating some sense into her. Awour didn't dare ordering anything, which was good. Kirsty wouldn't risk her shop by poisoning her, but there were so many other vile things that could be done to a person's food.

Awour and the other girl sat at one of the tables in the center of the room. "I still can't believe he left all his junk behind," the other girl said.

Awour shrugged. "I guess... though I still have these," she said, lifting her hair up to reveal a pair of diamond earrings. "And this," she said, showing off a topaz ring. "I'm gonna go sell them tomorrow, though." She laughed. "Stupid boy ran away and he doesn't know that he'll be paying for my new wardrobe!"

The two of them cackled loudly.

"Excuse me," Kirsty said, her ears burning. "After all the hard work he put into saving up to buy that jewelry for you, you're just going to get rid of it like that?"

Awour scoffed. "Look, I know you're friends with the little crybaby, but what I do with my things is frankly none of your business."

Kirsty shook with rage. She had a point. Like it or not, they were hers to do with what she wished, but after the weeks of saving and scrimping Wrothken had done...

"Speaking of," Awour continued. "Where is he anyway? His clothes are way too big to fit Bacchus and I don't want them stinking up my house anymore."

"Your house? He's the one that bought the place!"

"And he's also the one that ran off with his tail between his legs, so by default, the house is mine now, along with all the stuff that I can sell off. That way while Bacchus is in the Imperial City training, I can support myself."

The tremors in her body were visible to anyone watching. She glanced at her chopping knife, wishing with all her might she could teach her. Wrothken was a great man, one of the last "nice guys" that she knew. If he wasn't her "big brother," she would've scooped him up immediately.

"You know what? I don't know where he is, but I know one thing for sure. Once he's recovered from your selfish betrayal, he's going to be glad you did what you did, and he's going to find someone a lot better than you. Not that it's going to be difficult. He told me he prefers women with curves, not ones that look like ten-year-old boys. Now you, and the tramp you brought with you, can get the [censored] out of my bakery."

Awour stood up with her jaw clenched. Of course, Wrothken had said no such thing, but Kirsty knew that Awour was self conscious about her figure. She knocked over her chair and then she and her friend left. Kirsty's sour mood had turned completely bitter.



By late evening, Kirsty was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she repeatedly mixed up orders. Most people were understanding; they thought she wasn't used to working alone. In reality, her conversation with Awour made her really stop and think about the black and white in which she had previously saw stealing.

Her entire life she was taught that with hard work, you could have anything. Her mother died during childbirth, so her father had to work twice as hard to support his young daughter. He was often gone from the time she was awake until she had fallen asleep at night. When he was home, he had to fill the role of father and mother. Through everything he did, he was able to give her a comfortable life. She always ate and had beautiful clothes.

When she was old enough, she decided to move to Cyrodiil. She lived close, so the journey wasn't expected to be hard. Her problem was surviving when she got there. Her first job was harvesting graqes for wine near Skingrad. Eventually she saved enough to have a little cart so she could sell pastries outside of the arena in Kvatch. After years of skipping meals just to have enough spare septims to make more pastries and perfect her recipes, she finally bought the Iron Champion bakery, conveniently located across the road from the arena. In all that time, she never resorted to stealing. In her not-quite-so-humble opinion, the Grey Fox should have been tied up and had rotted food thrown at him until he passed out from the stench. She said it often and believed it...until now.

When the bakery first opened its doors, Wrothken was there to ensure that things stayed under control because, when a busty Bosmer with a high-pitched voice tells a group of drunken idiots to shut up, they laugh and pay her no mind. When a tall, broad shouldered Nord says it, mouths shut and drunks magically sober up a little. It wasn't a fun job or well-paying, but he never complained. In fact, he was happy to do it so that he could buy little gifts for his beloved. It made Kirsty sick to imagine them pawned off so she could lay about all day. As much as she hated to do it, she needed expert help with what she was about to do.



After locking the doors behind her, Kirsty set off for the alleys in the west side of town. She draqed a cloak over herself with the hood casting a shadow over her eyes. Skooma sellers glanced over at her as did a few working girls standing outside the brothel. Kirsty quickly averted her eyes, keeping them at the ground.

She walked to a man laying on the ground in ratty clothes. "Um...excuse me," she said. "Are you a beggar?"

The man snorted and rolled over, facing away from her. "Listen, I need to speak to the...." She cleared her throat. "The Gray Fox. Can you tell him that I need some things stolen?"

"Looking for a thief?"

Kirsty turned around and saw a Dunmer standing behind her. Next to the her was a medium sized dog, seeming to glare at Kirsty. She leaned in and asked, "Did he send you already?"

She laughed. "No, actually I could hear you from across the road. You know, the Gray Fox isn't the only one with eyes and ears, if you know what I mean," she said, tilting her head toward a passing guard.

Kirsty nodded. "Right..."

"Listen, it's been awhile, but if it's a thief you're looking for, I'd be willing to help you out."

"Really?" She squeaked. "Wait, why?"

"Like I said, it's been awhile. Fencing has many benefits, but it's nothing like the thrill of picking locks and sneaking around."

Kirsty folded her arms. "How do I know I can trust you?"

"You're asking me how you can trust a thief?"

"No, I mean... how do I know you're any good?"

"They always ask..." She muttered. She held up a black coin purse with red lace covering it. "Look familiar?"

Kirsty's hand flew to her side and she paled when she noticed her missing coin purse. The Dunmer tossed it to her. "Come on, we can discuss details at my house."



Kirsty was surprised at how much red the Dunmer's house contained. Red curtains, red table cloth, red candles, red chairs. In the light of the house, Kirsty noticed that her hair was red, though her black eyebrows revealed that the color was unnatural. She wore a red blouse with reddish brown pants. Her lips were dark red. The only gems on her jewelry were rubies.

As Kirsty crossed the threshold, the dog turned and barked viciously. "Dolce!" The Dunmer said. She pointed at a creamy blue pillow by the window. Dolce gave Kirsty a glare and went to her bed.

"Sorry," she said. "Dolce is like a man in that the only way to her heart is through her stomach. Anyway," she said, offering Kirsty a seat at the table. "We haven't been properly introduced. My name is Lilitu Serano. And you are...?"

Kirsty hesitated.

"I know you're trying to be anonymous, with that...outfit, but seriously, if I posed any danger, I'd leave you alone with Dolce." Kirsty glanced at the dog, who was chewing on a large bone. "Just think of this as an ordinary business transaction."

"Okay, I suppose. I'm Kirsty," she said, removing her hood.

"Alright, Kirsty. Now, about the items you want stolen..."

"Right, well, they're in town. It's just a couple items that I'm concerned about. A pair of diamond earrings and a topaz ring. The problem is, I don't know if she sleeps with them on or not."

Lilitu nodded, twirling the curled end of her ponytail. "Don't worry, I can handle that. Who's currently in possession of the jewelry?"

"Her name is Awour. She's got long, really long, longer than yours even, blond hair, green eyes--"

"Today, was she wearing a light green dress, with long sleeves and silver trim around the cuffs? Kind of a round face for a high elf? An attitude problem?"

"You know her?"

"I wouldn't say know her... I just moved here a couple days ago, but I did meet her this morning. She was pretty insistent on petting Dolce and nearly lost a hand." She looked affectionately to the dog. "Can't blame her for trying, though. Such a pretty girl!" She cleared her throat. "Anyway, she began to scream about diseases until I told her off." She laughed a little. "And so she has sworn that I am 'going down.'"

Kirsty rolled her eyes. "That sounds like her."

"Well, since she's such a pain in the ass, I'll be more than happy to get what you need, and I'll do it for free."

"What? Are you sure?"

She leaned back in her chair. "Completely. I can't stand people like her and I think it'll be fun to take her down a notch. You'll have the jewelry tomorrow morning."

Kirsty stood up. "Thank you. You know, I never thought I'd ever do something like this."

"You think I pictured myself working for the Gray Fox? Some things just happen. Just one thing, though."

"What's that?"

"I need to know where she lives."

Kirsty led her outside. "It's that house there," she pointed. "The one with the purple curtain."

"Great. See you tomorrow."

Kirsty nodded and went back to her bakery. She couldn't help smiling as she passed Wrothken's house. She envied Lilitu. She would've sold her soul to be the one to rob Awour blind in the middle of the night.



When Kirsty left, Lilitu found herself staring after her. That girl is certainly blessed by Dibella, she thought. Dark, shiny hair, cool brown eyes, a cute little beauty mark above her plump lips. And that figure! She'd kill for it. She sighed, shaking her head. Some girls have all the luck, she thought.

She opened her curtains and placed a chair so she could keep an eye on Awour's window. First step was waiting for her to fall asleep. Shortly before meeting Kirsty, the chapel bell rang nine times. Sadly, without the opportunity to watch her for days, she had no idea what time she usually went to bed or if she slept alone.

Lilitu couldn't tell how many minutes had passed, but she knew that she couldn't stare at the window too much longer. She was starting to get antsy. Her favorite book, Dusk and Her Embrace, sat on the table by the couch. She leaned over and grabbed it, opening it up to where she left off. Within seconds, she was swooning. Romance novels were her guiltiest pleasure.

Before she knew it, the bells chimed eleven times. She set her book down, wondering where ten o'clock went. She must have been so focused in the book that she didn't notice. Awour's window was dark, but she wasn't sure for how long. She smiled, opening the book back up. Just three chapters and she'd get ready. That was plenty of time for Awour to sleep.

Three chapters became four, since Lilitu couldn't stop once it got heated. She giggled, fanning herself with the book. Who knew a literal bloodbath could be so...hot?

She went up to her room and slipped into more comfortable clothing. She pulled her hair back into a bun and put a cowl on over it, to avoid letting any red strands loosen and fall to the floor. After grabbing her lock picking set and a couple potions of night eye, she left the light on in her bedroom to make it appear that she was still home. She blew Dolce a kiss, as she always did before leaving her alone in the house. Not only was it a way of saying goodbye, it let Dolce know that it was time for guard mode. Dolce sat in front of the door, ready to do her job. "Good doggie," she whispered, locking the door behind her.



Not many people were on the streets so late at night. The occasional guard passed by, but he paid her no mind. He probably wouldn't even recognize her in the morning if the passed each other again.

When the area was clear, she stopped in front of Awour's door. She placed her hand on the knob and barely twisted. It was locked. She looked around to make sure no one was around. She double checked and then took out a tension wrench, an item similar to the probes used in Morrowind. Slowly, she slipped the tension wrench into the lock, gently moving it around to get a feel for the lock. She twisted it counter-clockwise first, immediately feeling it stop. She turned it the other way and felt a little more room to move. With her free hand, she took out a lock pick and put it in the lock, feeling each pin. She laughed softly, counting only three pins. It wasn't that strong of a lock. She carefully pushed each one up, feeling the second one to be the most stubborn. She pushed it up repeatedly until it set in its place. Then she moved on to the first and third. Once they set, she looked around once more and went in.

She took out her first bottle and swished it around. It had been a while since she bought it and she hoped it still worked. She drank the potion, forcing herself to swallow the gritty bits that always seemed to sink to the bottom of the bottle. She blinked and when she opened her eyes, everything was light blue.

The place was simply furnished. A loveseat in front of the fireplace, a little table next to it. In the kitchen, there was a small, round table and two chairs. The flowers on top were wilting and brown. A short shopping list was pinned to the wall. Something about it touched Lilitu's heart. It seemed so cozy.

She proceeded up the stairs into the bedroom. The door was unlocked, so she sighed in relief. She didn't want to spend too much time sneaking around. Her book had gotten pretty juicy.

The first thing she saw was a large bed with Awour sprawled out in it. A large axe hung up on the wall. Lilitu had a hard time imagining Awour even lifting it. She tiptoed over to the slumbering Altmer, lightly lifting her hair up. No earrings. If she didn't need to be silent, she would have sighed in relief. She was exaggerating when she told Kirsty it wouldn't be a problem to take the earrings out. She set her hair down and looked at her hands. No ring, either. She looked at both night stands and neither of them had a jewelry box on them.

There was a large chest under the window. It was locked, but Lilitu managed to open it quickly. All she found were mens shirts that were twice as big as Lilitu and reached her mid-thigh. She put them back and shut the chest.

She was about to check the wardrobe when a sparkle caught her eye. On the desk were the earrings and the ring along with a note.

"Don't forget to sell in the morning, along with the rest of Wrothken's junk. Also, the locks need to be changed."

She picked them up, note included and stuffed them in her pocket. She turned to leave when she noticed a small mountain of ripped or crumpled papers by a wicker basket. Lilitu glanced at Awour. Was she a writer or something? She picked up one of the crumpled ones and smoothed it out.

"Longer than there've been fishes in the ocean
Higher than any bird ever flew
Longer than there've been stars up in the heavens
I've been in love with you.

Stronger than any mountain cathedral
Truer than any tree ever grew
Deeper than any forest primeval
I am in love with you.

I'll bring fire in the winters
You'll send showers in the springs
We'll fly through the falls and summers
With love on our wings.

Through the years as the fire starts to mellow
Burning lines in the book of our lives
Though the binding cracks and the pages start to yellow
I'll be in love with you.
I'll be in love with you.

Longer than there've been fishes in the ocean
Higher than any bird ever flew
Longer than there've been stars up in the heavens
I've been in love with you
I am in love with you..**

~Always, Wrothken"

Lilitu was breathless. Her sinuses burned as she forced herself not to cry. It was so beautiful... what was it doing crumpled on the floor?! She looked it over once more, recognizing the name from the other note. Obviously, the two had ended things. The poem made her want to believe that Awour was at fault, but she had no way of knowing for sure.

Lilitu walked over to the bed once more, staring down at Awour. Even with the negative feelings she had, she had to admit that she too had beauty...physical, anyway. Her face may have been round, but it made her look more youthful. Her hair was beautiful in both luster and color, something Lilitu felt a flash of jealousy over. She had big eyes and thin brows, arched perfectly. She wasn't stringy; she was less top heavy than Kirsty and herself, but with wide hips, the ones men often saw as perfect for child bearing. She read the poem once more and shook her head. To let go of a man who could write like that... if that was what happened.

When everything went dark, she realized the potion was no longer in effect. She took long steps, setting her toes down first as she felt for the door. When she was out, she carefully walked down the stairs. She felt her way toward the door and opened it slightly. A guard was passing by, but he didn't notice the door opening a crack. He continued down the street, turning at the corner. Lilitu slipped out and casually walked back to her house.



After pouring ylang-ylang oil into the bath, Lilitu sat in the steamy water, reading the poem repeatedly. Each time, she felt her heart quicken. She wanted to know where he was. She heard of people who can decipher everything about a person based on their handwriting. All Lilitu could tell from the writing alone was that it was likely written by a man. She also heard of people who can hold something belonging to someone and then connect mentally with the person. If only she had that power.

The poem accompanied her to bed that night and she couldn't help wondering if one day, a man with a heart like Wrothken would as well.

~~~~~♥~~~~~

**The poem is a song called Longer, by Dan Fogleberg

http://i117.photobucket.com/albums/o46/Jacki_Dice/Picture012.jpg

So Kirsty is a buxom little Breton with a lilting voice? How nice to see her fleshed out (puns are always intended)! And yes, I'd feel the same way about Awour that she does - he seems like a terrific guy!

And now we have Lilitu getting all hot and bothered, first over a romance novel, then over a poem? How feminine (and I mean that in a positive way)! It makes her character feel more authentic, especially with all the red in her home and on herself.

Well done!

This last chapter is my favorite! And Wrothken using lyrics from songs - my husband used to do that trying to woo me, he would say the lyrics and then say he just made them up. I have to admit I have done it too, but the trick is you have to use a song they would never hear. My husband made the mistake of taking Rock lyrics and got caught, lol.

I shudder to think of what you did to him for that, mALX.

Since this is essentially a sweet and humourous romance I will not spoil it by excessive nitpicking on your burglary scene. Suffice it to say that it's good enough, and perfectly in tune with the rest of the story.

Ah, Jacki, it has been said that people don't read stories for the plot, they read them for the characters. If that is true, then your story will be read deeply by many, for already we have at least three characters to capture our imaginations!

I have read the first three sections, and they're really fun.

It seems to me that by adding the rain of cheese, you have the chance to add a little more to the situation. What I think would be great is that since people know there is cheese out there, many from all around are gathering it up on the shore. Fishermen in small boats are casting their nets and dragging up boatloads of cheese. Priests from Bravil could be preaching from the shore that nobody should eat this evil fungus product from Oblivion. Some of the fishermen could give Wrothken a ride to the island.

I'll be reading the next few sections soon! Keep it up!

hautee cole rider- Thank you! Lilitu is somewhat my take one the "dashing rogue" that I've seen so much of, except she's female. She's a lot of fun to work with and she gives me an excuse to play Italian music -swoon-

mAXL1- Ha! My fiance used to do that too, except he mashed up three different songs, so when I heard them it took awhile to recognize them

D. Foxy- Thank you! Since you noticed a few nits in the burglary, I'm assuming you have knowledge about lock picking and stuff. You actually remind me a bit of my friend's father who knew a lot about that and fighting tactics

Shades- Thank you, I'm glad you're enjoying it! I had a similar idea with the cheese and I just forgot about it (I've started taking notes on things so it doesn't happen again). I'll be sure to implement it next time I do a scene with Kirsty and Lilitu.


Speaking of Kirsty.... http://i117.photobucket.com/albums/o46/Jacki_Dice/Kirsty.jpg

Wrothken is next!


~~~~~~~~~♥~~~~~~~~


By time Wrothken made it back to Sickly Bernice's Taphouse, he felt like collapsing right in front of the door. His entire body throbbed in sync with his thudding heart. Beads of sweat lined his hair, slowly falling down his face. When he sat down, his legs felt the familiar, pleasant burn of a good workout.

"Oh dear," Bernice said frowning. "Your cheeks are so red! Have you caught a fever?"

He shook his head. He didn't tell her that he ran most of the trip, fearful that more Knights would show up. Instead, he pulled out the silver flask and set it before her.

"My stars..." She whispered, lifting it up. She swished it around. Her face lit up as she opened it, taking a whiff. "Oh, you saint!" She grasped Wrothken's hand for a moment before gulping it down. The gray pallor washed away from her face immediately, being replaced by a cool ivory color. "Thank you, thank you!" She smiled widely.

Wrothken would have enjoyed her happiness more if he wasn't so dead tired. "You're welcome, Bernice. Can I have a room for a coule hours?"

"Dearie, you can have a room whenever you want. No, put your gold away, I won't accept a single coin. You saved my life. Just do me a favor and don't tell anyone. I wouldn't want someone to get too close and get me sick all over again. Now, you go on up and rest. Afterwards, I'd recommend that you go see Cutter, just up the road. She can fix your armor up for you. Do be careful, though. She's a bit of an odd one..."


Rested, bathed, and finally shaven, Wrothken felt wonderful. He gathered up his armor and walked down to Cutter's Weapons.

A flash of butterflies fluttered about in his stomach when he entered and saw the bloody puddles on the floor and table. Standing in front of a blazing furnace, was an incredibly pale wood elf. Her white skin looked even brighter against her dark hair. She had large green eyes heavily shadowed with black powder. Her smile gave Wrothken chills.

"They call me Cutter," she said, in a soft, slow drawl. "You must be the new boy. I bet you taste delicious..."

He set his armor on the table, keeping his distance. "Bernice said you'd be able to fix this up?"

She held up the cuirass, licking her lips as she traced her finger over the gashes. "I bet you bled all over the place." She looked at the other pieces and set them aside. "I can fix them for fifty gold."

Wrothken raised his eyebrows. He was sure he didn't have that much, but then he remembered the items he received in Xedilian. "Do you buy things too?"

She nodded.

"Good," He said. He set the claymore down, noticing the purple gem had turned orange. It had to be a trick of the light. "I'm not sure what this is, but maybe you can find a use for it," he said, setting down the black box.

Cutter gasped. "A matrix! Are you sure you want to sell it?"

"Um...maybe." He picked up the box. "What's a matrix?"

"Let me show you something," she said. She took his arm, the iciness of her hands piercing through Wrothken's shirt, and she led him to the other side of the room, where two sets or armor were displayed.

They were made from the same material, one build for a man, the other for a woman. It was an almost sickly, dark green color. A vision of a tortured soul was etched on the cuirass, and a monster's face on the shield. The helm was something that the face of evil would wear. Wrothken placed his hand longingly on the glass. That armor was scary enough to strike terror in the heart of any enemy, be it a grummite or a Knight of Order. He had to have it.

"It is made from Madness Ore," Cutter said, picking up what looked like a large, black thorn from the table. "Spirits of ancients souls are trapped in the Ore. Find it in ancient ruins. Grummites are also especially attracted to it." Wrothken briefly remembered seeing the thorns in Xedilian, but at the time he didn't think anything of them. "It's a supple and flexible ore, yet it holds a good edge. I can shape the sharpest of blades with it. I can also create magical items."

She set the ore down and took the box she had referred to as a matrix. "Tradition dictates before each master smith dies, she hides these magical molds in the world, like pouring salt deep into a wound." She licked her lips slowly. "Over time they soak in magical energies from the world around them, the way you svck in blood from a cut." She ran her finger slowly down his arm, causing him to shudder. "Bring me some ore, and I will forge you a new item and bleed the magic of the matrix into it."

"Alright," he said, excited by the thought of new armor. "How much will you need?"

She took a paper from her pocket. It was covered in soot and dried blood smears. "Here is a list of everything I would need for whatever piece you would like. Now, I will get to work on your armor. It may take awhile, so you may leave if you'd like and come back later."

"Alright, I'll be back soon," he said. He didn't want to keep Sheogorath waiting.

As he was heading to the palace, he felt a strong grip on his arm. He almost expected to see a Golden Saint scowling down at him, but was surprised to see Kalila. She pulled him back, making him face her. His heart raced so hard, he was sure she could hear it.

"You shaved." She said. Her voice was almost like the Mazken, only not soft and warm. "I like it. It makes you look..." She leaned in. "Younger....fresher. Much more innocent." She smiled, her eyes shining with mischief. "I like that. A lot."

His entire lower body tingled with her every word simply because she was talking to him. He tried to speak, but his voice cracked as if he were fifteen again. He then nodded.

"Anyway, I have to go see Cutter now. Maybe we can get together later..." She released his arm and turned on her heel, leaving Wrothken to gaze after her.



"Well now," Sheogorath said. "What news do you have to report?"

"First of all, I was attacked by Knights of Order."

"So soon? Not a surprise, I suppose. We'll get to that later. No need to burden your little brain with it now," he said, waving his hand. "And Xedilian? Since you're standing here, I assume you've succeeded. Or you're terribly confused. Or really lacking in good judgment."

"It's been fixed."

"Wonderful!" He said, standing up and clapping. "Time for a celebration... Cheese for everyone!" Wrothken smiled widely. He loved cheese. "Wait, scratch that. Cheese for no one. That can be just as much of a celebration, if you don't like cheese. True?" Wrothken sighed, looking down. He was looking forward to a rain of cheddar. "You've run a maze like a good little rat, but no cheese for you yet. Well, maybe a little," he winked, patting Wrothken's head. "I've granted you a new spell - the ability to summon Haskill, my Chamberlain, to aid you in your travels. He knows a lot. More than he knows. In fact, give it a try. Summon our friend to you now. I'll wait."

Wrothken looked over at Haskill and chuckled. Summoning, or any magic, was never his strong point. Lucky for him, growing up, he had a friend who was very into summoning spells. He knew he had to focus, as if he was healing himself, instead of focusing on a cooling sensation, he had to focus on something becoming one with him. When he did that, Haskill appeared at his side.

"Ah... our Lord has granted you the power to summon me. How wonderful. When summoned, I can offer advice on your current endeavor. I imagine it's up to you what to do with my wisdom. Do try to use your power sparingly. I have duties to which I must attend. Rather more important than shepherding you around, I'm sure." With his lecture over, Haskill vanished and appeared back at the base of Sheogorath's throne.

Sheogorath cackled loudly. "Isn't that a hoot? I love it, myself. Best part of being a Daedric Prince, really. Go ahead, try it again. He loves it!"

Wrothken smiled and repeated the spell.

Haskill sighed. "Ah, summoned again. My Lord does so enjoy that, as is His prerogative. I'll assume you're done for now."

Wrothken flexed his hand. He was going to have a lot of fun.

"Just don't expect to summon dear Haskill anywhere but in the Realm. He dislikes leaving My presence. I get that sometimes."

Wrothken snickered, imagining what would happen if Haskill gave Kirsty his sass. He actually began to laugh as he envisioned her beating him with a rolling pin.

"Good thing you've mastered that. You'll need all the help you can get if you're going to defeat Jyggalag and stop the Greymarch."

"Who is Jyggalag?"

"The Daedric Prince of Order. Or biscuits..." He paused, tapping his lip with his finger. "No. Order. And not in a good way. Bleak. Colorless. Dead. Boring, boring, boring!" he cried, grabbing a fistful of his hair. "And not a fan of My work, I can tell you. Hates it. Hates Me. A bit single minded, if you take My meaning. You've seen his Knights. Not the warm and cuddly sort. Not a bit of original thought in their lifeless husks. So, you're going to help Me stop him."

"Again with the niggling little details! Hold your tongue. Or I will," he added in a menacing tone. "We'll get to that, all in due time. For now, you've got other work to do."

Wrothken exhaled deeply. Just how was he supposed to stop it if he didn't know what it was? "Alright, what would you ask me to do?"

"Ask? ASK? I don't ask. I tell. This is My Realm, remember? My creation, My place, My rules. Look at you," he said, lifting a lock of Wrothken's hair. "No concept of what you've stumbled into. No sense of place. You don't even really know where you are, do you?" He grabbed a hold of Wrothken's dark blue shirt. "I suppose few really do, but that's beside the point. We're going to give you a taste of where you have found yourself. You're going to learn."

Wrothken's blood felt like ice. Was he going to be driven insane like the men in Xedlilian?

Sheogorath continued, holding up two fingers. "Two halves, two rulers, two places. Meet and greet. Do what they will, so you know what they're about. Thadon, the Duke of Mania and Syl, the Duchess of Dementia. Seek them out, and let them show you what New Sheoth is. You might be surprised. Once you understand what My Realm is, you might understand why it's important to keep it intact. And maybe you'll make some friends along the way. That's always nice!"

"So you want me to speak to each of them, and they'll help me understand things here?"

"Isn't that what I said? Don't tell me your ears have been clogged with cheese. You'll attract rats that way!"

Wrothken raised his eyebrows, taking his answer as a yes. "As you wish," he said. First things first, he needed his armor.

"Ta!" Sheogorath said, waving. "Come visit again, or I'll pluck out your eyes!"

The image of Sheogorath adorning himself with Wrothken's eyes planted itself firmly in his mind and refused to go away. "I promise to visit again, real, real soon."

Y'know, apropos of nothing, a thought just struck me...

..the Late Heath Ledger would be perfect to play Sheogorath!

And another thing...


Whenever I see Kirsty, I feel soo sad. SOOOOOO sad.

(weep, weeep).


Why?



Well...


You see...


It's like this - I was a bottle-fed child, and -

*sees mods hovering*

..and the rest is - silence.

:whistling:

I've read the next three sections and enjoyed them. I have a couple comments too.

One is that the guard calls New Sheoth perfect, which is more of something a Jyggalag type would worry about. Perhaps a different word? I'd also figure that the prince of order would have a more orderly and simple name, something like a palindrome. I suppose we blame Daggerfall for naming him that.

The other thing is that you skipped the adventure of getting to New Sheoth. He needs to see the island a little I think so we can experience what he sees. Seeing the stuff outside the gate is one thing, but seeing the things inside could be a world changer for Wrothken. Maybe show us a few personality quirks about his curiosity before he actually goes crazy. He's already girl crazy.

Keep up the fun! I like how he's unsure of how to talk to most people. I'd be weirded out too.

I don't know about your plans for the story, but it feels like you as the writer could be setting up a crazy trick on the readers. Remember that sane people seem crazy to the crazy people. You can really twist us around till we agree with the crazies of your story.

And when will we get an update? *looks at second hand of watch*

Probably today

D. Foxy- :rofl:

Shades- Thank you :) The things the Dark Seducer says are actually in-game. The feel it is perfect just like their perfect lord. And I do feel Jyggalag is a silly same for one so orderly, but you're right. It is Daggerfall's fault for that >.>

~~~♥~~~

As promised, here is http://i117.photobucket.com/albums/o46/Jacki_Dice/Wrothken.jpg Lilitu will be next and maybe I'll do Awour afterwards

And here is a map of where everyone lives. http://i117.photobucket.com/albums/o46/Jacki_Dice/800px-Kvatch_FGIllustration.jpg

~~~~~~~~~♥~~~~~~~~~


Kirsty could hardly sleep at all. Her stomach was knotted with worry. After lying in bed and thinking about it for a few hours, she couldn't believe that she allowed some stranger to break into Wrothken's house and take jewelry. Maybe Lilitu, if that was even her name, wasn't a thief after all, but an undercover guard trying to put a stop to the Thieves Guild. Or maybe she was a thief after all, but was going to run off with the spoils. For all Kirsty knew, she and Awour were old friends, looking to catch Kirsty in something, just so they can report her later.

Realizing that sleep wasn't going to come to her, she decided to get to work.

She walked downstairs to the bakery and stood at the counter with a quill and parchment, checking her sales for the previous day. She made around fifty sweet rings yesterday, but didn't have enough for eveyone who wanted one. She could try for seventy-five...but then again it was Tirdas. For some reason, Morndas always sold more sweets than any other day. "Sixty rings," she said, writing it down.

Immediately she set to work. She found a large bowl and emptied a sack of flour into it. She was so happy to have left Valenwood. Flour, since it's grain, is forbidden by the Green Pact. Instead, they use bonemeal. It wasn't bad, but it didn't give the bread that fluffiness she loved. She took out a jar of honey and mixed it in, creating a thick paste. After forming the rings and soaking it in wine, she put them in the oven.

While she waited for them to cook, she started preparing some croissants and chocolate muffins to be baked as well. By time she was ready to open, her apron and any unprotected part of her dress was covered in powders.

The other townspeople were waking. People who still sold wares from carts were starting to set up outside the arena. She looked down the street, but still didn't see Lilitu. She bit her lip nervously. "Calm down," she told herself. "She probably isn't awake yet."

After the breakfast rush, though Lilitu still hadn't shown, a man carrying a sack full of papers walked in. Kirsty's heart raced. Did Wrothken finally send her a letter?

"Morning, miss," he said, handing her a copy of the Black Horse Courier. "Special edition," he said with a nod.

He walked away as Kirsty caught the headline.


Black Horse Courier

SPECIAL EDITION!
Rain of cheese! Transdimensional door appears!

An ordinary, peaceful morning on the Niben Bay was suddenly turned upside down when a downpour of cheddar cheese coated the immediate area. Locals from Bravil and the Imperial City scrambled to get a basket of the cheese, but by time they got to the area, guards had been sent to keep people from consuming it until it could be tested for poisons.

At the same time, it was reported that a strange door opened up on a mysterious island in the bay. Plants not found anywhere on Nirn were found, prompting a mass gathering of mages to examine and gather them up for potions. Several adventurers arrived on the scene as well, seeking to find out where the door came from and what its purpose is. Few have come out, and those who have seem to be driven mad by whatever's inside. A Bravil guard who has been posted at the door was quoted saying, "I keep telling them that nothing that enters come out right. They don't listen. Stupid kids got their heads filled with ideas of fame and fortune. Guess who gets stuck cleaning it up." The obvious madness in the victims has caused many to wonder if the door is something from Sheogorath. However, because all who have entered have become too disturbed to talk, there is no way to confirm that.

Chana Mona, the priest in Bravil's chapel of Mara, has been conducting her services outside by the bay, warning people to stay away. At first her words were unheeded, but seeing as how most have either gone insane or haven't returned at all, more are gathering to listen to her sermons.


She couldn't believe it. What it some kind of joke? What would they report next week, cupcakes in the lake? She crumpled it up, wondering if someone at the head office noticed the joke paper. Looking outside, she saw Lilitu wasn't out yet, but Awour was. She looked furious. Obviously, she and Lilitu were not in cahoots, and Lilitu did her job. Now her only concern was her bringing the jewelry back. She was a thief, after all.



Lilitu couldn't remember her dream, but she knew it was unpleasant. Visions flashed before her eyes too quick for her to recognize anything. She remained wrapped in red sheets, her hand still on the poem. She read through it again, but it failed to give her the same fuzzy feeling it did before.

Dolce ran up to Lilitu before she even made it downstairs. She jumped up on her, in her usual good mood. Lilitu held her face. "Now, you know you have your own bed." She tapped her back. "Off."

Dressed in a red robe, she went to the kitchen and chopped up some beef. Dolce quivered as she tried to refrain from jumping up on the counter. Lilitu set the ham in a blue dish and set it on the floor. Dolce immediately pounced, greedily eating it as if she hadn't been fed in days. "Come on, Dolce," she said, after she finished. "Time to make a delivery."



When Kirsty finally saw Lilitu, she felt a wave of relief, with a slight flash of jealousy. Lilitu was wearing a high-necked corset top, which recently became fashionable in the area. Kirsty had been highly disappointed to find that it was impossible to stuff herself into one and a custom made one would have been far too expensive. She looked down. Sometimes the blessing so many girls envied was so much more of a curse.

Lilitu smiled, taking a seat in front of her. Without prompting, Dolce sat down as well.

"Special delivery," Lilitu said, handing Kirsty a small coin purse. She opened it, gasping sharply when she saw the earrings and the ring nestled inside. "You look surprised."

"No, I just..." She couldn't admit that she thought Lilitu would deceive her.

"Don't worry about it. Most people who hire thieves for the first time don't expect the merchandise to come, especially if they have no experience with the guild."

Kirsty's cheeks burned. She felt so stupid. "Here, I know you wanted to do this for free, but at least take this." She handed Lilitu a fresh sweet ring.

When she took a bite, Lilitu's cherry red eyes suddenly seemed to glaze over and she moaned softly. "What is this?" she asked, quickly taking another bite.

"Just some sweet rings. I haven't come up with a good name for them just yet."

"I can think of some, but they're more suited for the bedroom than the kitchen. This is amazing!"

Kirsty reddened a little. She was usually too busy to hear people's compliments. "Um.. here's something for your dog, too." She stepped from behind the counter and set down a slab of ham. Dolce sniffed it curiously and took a hesitant lick, as if she wasn't sure she could trust it. Satisfied, she scarfed it down in a single bite.

Dolce took a step toward Kirsty and sniffed her hand. "Now she'll be your friend forever," Lilitu said. They were quiet for a moment before she said, "So, I'm just going to come out and ask. Who's Wrothken?"

"Wrothken?" She asked. "He's my brother."

Lilitu raised her eyebrows. "Your...brother?"

Kirsty shook her head. "Not exactly. I mean he's been like a brother. You know, looking after me and helping me out with stuff." She set her head on her hand, sighing. "He helped me run the place. Drunks listened to him more then they did me."

"Intimidated?"

Kirsty laughed. "Yeah. He's more like a big teddy bear, but people don't know that. All they see is a giant Nord with hands big enough to squash them."

"A Nord..." Lilitu smiled, licking her red lips. "I see. So, he's your brother, who lived with the high elf, and you wanted me to steal jewelry from their house." She looked outside. "She broke his heart, didn't she?"

Kirsty nodded. "He caught her in bed with another man."

Lilitu continued to stare outside. "It's sad how girls do that, and then they wonder why they can't find a good man. They've all been hurt so bad that they turn to jerks so they won't go through the pain again."

Kirsty nodded in agreement. She had been with far too many guys who kept to at a distance or who were cruel to her, just to avoid intimacy. She was about to ask Lilitu how she knew his name when Dolce sprang up, her ears folded back as she growled softly.

"Who was it?" Awour screeched, storming in. Her eyes were wild.

Kirsty's heart dropped to her stomach. She quickly tucked the coin purse in her skirt. "What are you talking about?" She asked. Her palms were starting to dampen.

"Don't play dumb with me! I know it was one of you!"

"Do you mind?" Lilitu asked. "I'm trying to enjoy a nice breakfast."

"Shut up!" Awour started to walk toward her, but Dolce started barking violently. "I'm going to find out, but until I do, you both had better watch your backs!"

Lilitu flashed a grin. "That's fine, sweetie, now shouldn't you get to work? The brothel's the other way."

Awour glared at her, hate filling her eyes. "I swear, I'll make you pay, Ashborn."

"You mean like all your customers? I suppose fair is fair."

Kirsty could see that if Dolce wasn't there, the two would've gotten in a brawl right there. Dolce is like Wrothken's replacement until he gets back.

Awour spat on the floor before leaving.

"What a classy lady," Lilitu said.

Kirsty put her hand over her heart, trying to calm it down.

"If you're worried the guards would find out, don't. For one, she has no proof. Secondly, even if they believed her, I wouldn't turn you in. There is honor among thieves."

Kirsty managed a weak smile. Lilitu was good at making her feel at ease. She wasn't like the other girls she met. She didn't seem to have a drop of unnecessary cattiness in her. For years, Kirsty yearned for some female bonding. Sure, she had a few male friends, but they weren't the same. Could it be she finally found a good match? "Listen, after I close, do you want to just...talk?"

Lilitu smiled. "That'd be nice. How about some wine at my house?"

Kirsty nodded. "I'll bring some sweet rings."

"Sounds perfect. Dolce and I better be going. You never know when some business might pop up."

As Lilitu and Dolce left, the feeling of comfort left her. She found herself looking out repeatedly, worried that someone was going to come in and start trouble while she was alone. "Don't be silly," she told herself. "I'm not alone." Other patrons were eating and drinking, though there was only a handful of them. The chapel bell rang twelve times, letting her know that the lunch rush would be coming in soon. Cooking would take her mind off things, at least until the evening.

Ahhh...

1. Wrothken looks way too poofty to be take seriously! For the love of testosterone, get your fiance to draw some MUSCLES on him, girl!

2. Like the story, and GRRRRRR,....WHY do the women writers on this forum start writing about cooking whenever I'm on a diet...I swear, it's a conspiracy against me! They're all sadistic, telepathic witches!! (Well Sub Rosa is a witch, though I don't know about the other two attributes) (hee hee Rosa yer pwned)

3. " I haven't come up with a god name for them " OK. I have. Sheogorath.

:rofl:

These chapters are great! The story is really starting to come out now, and I love it! I have to agree with Foxy on one thing, the drawing of Wrothken does not match his description as a Nord, or a big teddy bear - but Kirsty looks a bit like...you! I am loving this story behind the Shivering Isles part of the story!!!

Foxy- I'm not really sadistic, or telepathic, but I am a witch -oh no, he's onto me! He knows about the anti-diet plan I have in store for him!!- ahem... doughnut, anyone?

mAXL1- Kirsty does?! Her look was actually based on my friend! And I know Wrothken looks too stringy... I have such a hard time drawing men >.> They always come out too slender or too feminine..or both >.> Just imagine him more bulky and eventually I'll do an update

~~?~~

http://i117.photobucket.com/albums/o46/Jacki_Dice/Lilitu.jpg

~~?~~

For those who don't know, I'm also posting at http://chorrol.com/forums/index.php?showtopic=4440&st=0 at Chorrol

~~~~~~~~?~~~~~~~~


"Mania? Or Dementia?" Wrothken wondered, looking to either side. He watched the arrogant Golden Saints walk around with their chests puffed out and their noses stuck up so high, if it rained, they'd all drown. He didn't want to be anywhere near them, honestly.

On the other side, he saw the Mazken sashay around their half of the Palace district. They projected strength in a way that didn't show so much arrogance.

He sat down for another fifteen minutes before deciding to summon Haskill.

"I see you couldn't be bothered to walk the extra twenty feet to the palace," he said with a sigh. "What is it you require?"

Wrothken didn't bother repressing a smile. "I just wanted to ask you who I should visit first."

With an exaggerated eye roll, Haskill replied, "Thadon is aware you are here, and should be waiting for you. See him at once. Would you like me to accompany you? Hold your hand, maybe?"

Wrothken clenched his fists. He should have known that there would be a smart comment along with it. He tried to avoid making it obvious that Haskill got to him, as the chambelain vanished. When there was no longer a trace of him, Wrothken headed to the House of Mania.



The House of Mania left Wrothken speechless. Directly in front of him was a long table filled to the edges with food. Roasts, pastries, fruit, and several things Wrothken didn't recognize and couldn't begin to describe sat piled in front of the people. What really caught his attention was the several topless women scattered about. Most of them sat in pairs next to one of the men, though a couple of them seemed to greatly enjoy each others company. Golden Saints stood at the door, unfazed by the party.

Wrothken was so busy staring at the women that he nearly bumped into a fully clothed Argonian. "How can I help you..." She squinted at him. "Sir? Miss?" She shook her head. "You all look alike to me. It's so hard to tell. Are you here to see Thadon?"

He nodded, his eyes drifting toward the other women.

She nodded as well. "I heard that you were coming, looking for Thadon. Yes, yes. Heard it all. Bored to tears by it. He's waiting for you. Unless he isn't. He wasn't, but then he was. Maybe he still is."

She motioned him to the end of the table, where a Bosmer in a large throne was sitting, surprisingly without any female company. When Wrothken approached, he stood up, smiling widely. Wrothken couldn't help noticing a dusting of green powder on his nose.

"Ahh yes, there you are! You couldn't imagine how long I've been waiting for you. So little to do, and so much time. Hmm, could you, in fact, imagine just how long I've been waiting? I don't think you could, but I might be wrong. I might also not care. Which is it?"

Wrothken tilted his head. Thadon spoke like a man hopped up on skooma. "Um... Not very long?"

"Hmm... It felt like rather a long time, but then long times get longer when you're standing around thinking about them. A curious thing, that. Long roads get longer too, if you're thinking about them, but what about long words? They don't change nearly as much." He shrugged. "Long, short -- it all ends up the same. Dust and tears. Usually tears first, then the dust. Dust can't cry, you see. That would be... well, amusing." He chuckled, then abruptly stopped. "You know what's not amusing? I don't have my Chalice of Reversal. It makes me sad," he said with a pout. "When I get sad, I don't care to do much of anything. I certainly don't care to help people who show up on my doorstep wanting something. Are we getting the picture here?"

Wrothken sighed. He got the picture alright. "Do you know where your Chalice of Reversal is?"

"Oh, so you've heard of it?"

"No."

"You haven't heard of it, yet you know its name? What a strange creature you are." Wrothken didn't bother pointing out that Thadon gave him the name. Somehow, he knew it wouldn't do any good.

"One of my favorite toys," Thadon said. "Does wonders for creativity. Well, not by itself, but it helps. Those Elytra, clever little bugs that they are. Is this making sense? Look, you eat the Felldew, then use the Chalice, and find the world a much brighter and happier place. Honest. But I don't have it. So I can't eat Felldew, because that would just be bad. I mean, really bad. Damn her!" He snarled, glancing to his left.

Wrothken looked over as well, but the he didn't suspect either of the women, who were feeding a roasted leg to a large man, had anything to do with the lost Chalice.

"Do you know who took it?"

Thadon looked back at him with a sly smile. "Opposites repel, strangely enough. All that... pleasure... and pain locked away now, as if it never happened," he said bitterly. "Unfortunately, the Chalice is locked away as well. I have no wish to retrieve it myself, but fetching it might do you some good." He groaned. "My head is positively throbbing now... can you see it? I need to lie down. Find someone to tell you the rest of the story. Get the Chalice." He stood up and wobbled to a door in the back.

His head was starting to throb as well. He took an empty seat to try to sort out what Thadon had told him. Thadon's Chalice of Reversal was missing. The Chalice helped him eat something called felldew. A woman took it, after a passionate love affair which is now being treated as if it didn't happen... Sympathy ran through him for a moment. The woman was from the House of Dementia, which could have caused a possibly fatal scandal... but why? And that still didn't tell him where the Chalice was hidden.

The Argonian woman returned, taking the seat next to him. "You've been speaking to Thadon. I can tell. He has a certain... effect on people. Did he mention me, perhaps?" She asked hopefully. When Wrothken gave her a confused look, she asked disappointedly, "Or was there something else you wanted to discuss?"

"He wants me to get his Chalice of Reversal."

"It's precious to him, and that's all that matters. It's his own business. But, didn't he mention where it is? Oh... I see. How brilliant of him." She seemed to be swooning every time she praised him. "This is for you as much as it is for him. Oh, very good Thadon! Dunroot Burrow is your goal, my friend. And what a goal it is."

"Dunroot Burrow..." He said, taking out his map. "Where is this place?"

She pointed. "Yes, right there. A most unique place. Of course, the Chalice would be there!" She cupped his face in her scaly hands. "Don't you see? It's the Elytra! They're the reason. The Chalice, Felldew, Elytra... it's all connected." She poked his nose. "One without the others is no good, poison. Oh, a rough road awaits you. Some Elytra there are... different. You'll need to get Felldew from them, and eat it. Can't get in without it. But once you do... He wants you to learn for yourself. Learn, grow, experience. It's his way. I shouldn't say more."

Wrothken looked around the table. "What's felldew?"

She tapped her lip, lowering her eyes. "Well, perhaps Thadon would want you to have a bit more guidance. He did say that you should talk to me, did he not?" She stroked his cheek softly. "Felldew is a poison, little one. A very dangerous drug. You'll feel good at first, but that wears off, and if you go long without it, you'll suffer."

Wrothken felt a numbing throughout his body. A drug? Thadon was trying to get him addicted to drugs?! Without saying anything, he got up and dashed outside.

He paced by the stairs, trying to think of another way. He didn't want to risk it. He just couldn't. After all, he was able to keep a hold of his sanity so far; why would he risk losing it to addiction?