:lol: I know, it's so hard not to play dress-up, right? Do you have a screenshot of Siena?

Currently, I do not. But I will have one in the future. But for now, I prefer to keep you all imagining her in your minds, and seeing her as you wish to see her.

Good strategy. I'm just nosy

Post it when you are done the story. :nod:

I may not be done with the story anytime soon, though. I expect well into fifty chapters of this deliciousness to exist.

FYI, updating. I have begun work on Chapter 17, hope to have it done by the end of January, maybe sooner.

yaay! Chapter 17. I've enjoyed reading what I've read so far. I recently finished the shivering Isles quest, so I'm looking forward to the way Siena reacts to the progression of the story line. I'm guessing that she'll have lean towards hanging about in Dementia and such by the end. I did.

This chapter took longer than most to write, even though I begin it over Christmas Break, it still sounded wrong near the beginning, and I had to rewrite the first third of the chapter events. My second write still hadn't sat well with me, and inspiration to rewrite it or continue from that point had fallen flat.

However, the inspiration struck me recently, and I do hope my prolonged absence from writing this fic has not affected Siena's character negatively, or the story pacing negatively. Do enjoy it, I think it might be longer than previous ones. The more recent chapters seem to be getting longer.

Chapter 17: The Mazken
A paralysis spell couldn't have kept Siena as motionless as she now was, bow in hand and aimed at the two toad-men. Hanging from the bow were two strings; strings that were once one. And the arrow that should have soared, should have sickly stuck in slimy flesh and ended the battle, instead pathetically clattered to the stone ground beneath her, completely harmless. The bowstring had finally snapped, and the loud crack it caused had brought the attention of both beasts, who turned in a daze, saw her, and in wide pupil-less yellow-eyed surprise drew their little serrated daggers and sloshed towards her.

It was an archer's worst nightmare. A broken bow and the attention of the target and their company. Siena's heart ticked from cold still to pounding as they drew closer and she was forced to act.

The bow was the first to go, but it was discarded with purpose. The toad-face grew wide, caught off guard by suddenly having to dodge a chucked bowed stick of wood. That bought Siena time to draw one of the three remaining spear-tip daggers and fling it into the monster's face, while drawing a second to charge towards the final one.

Her last opponent between her and freedom from the beasts never reached her though. It ran up the slope leading to the root cavern entrance, sure, but it got halfway there before being violently thrown to the side rag doll style, slamming into the side of a spike log barricade and collapsing it.

Siena instantly crouched and stepped back, eyes roving like a beast being hunted. Only one thing could have caused such a sudden jerk of motion. And she saw that thing sticking out of the toad's skull, a long shaft of dark material that gleamed with a glossy shine in the sun. An arrow dead on its mark; she was in no condition to be challenging such an opponent, and so crept further back towards the declining slope of the root cavern entrance.

A shadow grew on the ground, coming from the other side of the large tree root-trunk on her left. It was definitely humanoid in shape, and feminine. Siena gripped her dagger looser, preparing to throw it at a moment's notice.

But when the owner of the shadow was revealed, Siena found herself frozen; unable to throw, unable to retreat, unable to doing anything but stare.

It was indeed a female; the large bust attested to that along with the curved hourglass form. But it was unlike any man, beast, or elf Siena had ever laid eyes upon. Her skin was darker than a Dark Elf's, more violet than ashen, and her eyes; those eyes were unnatural in every way. The whites of the woman's eyes were not white at all but void-black and her irises were bright sapphire, bright enough to actually glow from her eye sockets like tiny stars.

The woman's blue star-eyes turned and locked upon Siena, and the Dunmer found herself still incapable of movement, seduced into inaction. She held a long, serpentine blade in her hand that resembled Daedric weapons in their wicked, rune inscribed design, but black as coal. That blade had a glossy sheen in the daylight, just like the arrow earlier.

The wickedness of the blade went well with her armor. The entire suit of armor was angular, with ridges rising to edged peaks and extending into spikes from the edges of the shoulder plates and crown of the shield, and the shield itself looked like large dark grey shell. But Siena noted the armor was skimpy, leaving the gut and collar exposed. Her chest was protected only by a brassiere of metal, and a skirt of dark green cloth kept her waist decent. If she had any hair, it was concealed by a tight fitting helmet.

But there must be a reason for her to wear so little protection on her torso. Unless it's merely to draw attention to her assets. Siena pondered with disgust, the spell that held her eyes when she first saw the woman beginning to ebb the more she looked upon her.

"The Grummites were hunting a mortal." When the woman spoke Siena found herself once again caught by surprise. Her voice was remarkably echoing, like two women were saying the same thing within half a second of each other. It was a deep female voice, too, adding a more foreboding element to the already intimidating figure.

"Is it Blessed Kiskedrig?" Came another, identical voice. Siena's eyes darted towards the second approaching figure, and fear gripped her heart. This second was identical to the first, only wielded a glossy black bow. Even the voice was identical. Blessed? Could they mean the same as Relmyna?

"It looks Blessed." The first with the sword remarked back, stepping towards Siena. She stepped back instinctively, the spell of the women having worn off. If they meant the same thing by 'blessed' as Relmyna had, she could divine their meaning. They wondered if the mad god had touched her.

She probably did look the part of a lunatic splendidly not matter how lucid she felt. Her adventure in the cavern had given her plenty of smudges and bruises, not to mention the odd bits and ends of twigs from her wrestles with the tree-beings that caught in her chain links. Her hair was sweat-matted to her skull and her drawstring fingers raw from her archery, along with her left inner forearm. If anything, she looked as bedraggled as a beggar in Balmora.

But as Siena drew back from the approaching violet-skinned woman, she also began to devolve into a more animalistic, cornered stance. When she finally spoke it was through grit teeth; she was on the edge, nearing the fight or flight desperation of cornered animals. "Who are you?"

It was the unnatural woman's turn to pause now, and she regarded Siena coolly for a time, her glowing eyes piercing through Siena's shaded glasses and into her own. It was like the being was staring into her very soul, anolyzing her. The serpentine blade was sheathed, and likewise the archer of the two removed her arrow and slung her bow on her back.

"Blessed with amnesia likely." The sword-wielder remarked with a hint of jibe. "If she was Heretic or Zealot, she would have attacked us by now."

"A feral Blessed? She must be fresh from the Gates of Madness, looking for New Sheoth." The archer continued, and Siena notably perked up at this, looking to the archer expectantly. "You will find Him in New Sheoth, in His palace." Haskill's voice echoed in her mind, which only served to bring her irritation, but she quelled it. New Sheoth? that's my destination. They know it!

"I need to get to New Sheoth." Siena spoke up, beginning to rise to a standing position, slowly.

"Perhaps you are correct. She is a lost Blessed." The warrior replied to her archer companion, not to Siena. Like the Dunmer didn't even exist. Or her words meant nothing to the violet woman's ears. But then both beings turned to look at her, and the warrior gestured to herself.

"We are the Mazken."

"Maz? ken?" Siena repeated, rising now to a full standing position and giving the woman a quizzical look. If they were going to kill her, they would have done so much sooner. It seemed the title of 'Blessed' also meant you were safe in this realm. Safety in insanity! How ironic.

"The Mazken guard Crucible in New Sheoth, and the lands of Dementia." The archer replied calmly. "We ensure the Demented remain orderly and respectful to our Lord Sheogorath."

"Sheogorath is our Lord, ruler of the Shivering Isles. It is by his whim that the Mazken walk, and we serve our Master to the death." The warrior completed, and Siena gulped down the lump growing in her throat. Guards? Sheogorath's guards. "If you require assistance to New Sheoth, Blessed Mortal, you can accompany us. We were patrolling Dementia, and were about to return to Crucible." The woman's echoing voice never wavered, always sounding like two women speaking a second apart.

I could accompany them. I mean, so far my trip through Dementia hasn't gone well. I got attacked by a tree-thing? attacked by something else I still don't know, kidnapped by a bunch of? "What did you call those things?" Siena asked out of the blue, cutting out of her contemplative silence.

"This is a Grummite." The Archer answered. "They are amphibious beasts with primitive tool abilities. Some are capable of magic as well."

Grummite? I got kidnapped by a frog-faced beast with a bug name. Great. She dispatched them so easily, and now I have no bow, only three daggers. Two of them primitive. "If it's okay with you, I would like to follow to New Sheoth." Siena declared, moving her right hand towards her belt, and placing the grummite dagger back where it belonged.

"Very well." The warrior responded, turned, and headed down the path eastward. The Archer followed with a small smirk on her purple lips. Siena followed about a yard behind, wary of her new companions. They traveled as if the dangers of this dark, gloomy swamp -where the rays of sunlight shone through clouds of swampy fog and tree canopy, making it dinged grey despite the midday sun- meant nothing to them.

They passed by a broken, abandoned dock on the side of a pond, and Siena found herself entranced by the strange additions to the massive tree roots and trunks that hung over the water. There were these strange, slimy sacks, bumpy and uneven, looking like an enlarged collection of elderberries. But they had a sickening color, and reminded Siena of pus. Curious, she ventured closer to the water's edge to look at the nearest one.

She let out a sharp gasp and stumbled back when it squirmed, and echoing laughter made her face flush. The warrior Mazken was there beside her, a grin on her dark face. "Those are Grummite egg sacks. I'd be careful, mortal, around them. Usually there is a Baliwog in their vicinity."

"Baliwog?"

"Definitely an Amnesiac, Kiskedrig." The Archer remarked from afar. Siena pulled her lips taunt, annoyed with the Archer's jab at her. Did they not realize she was completely new to the Isles? But they did have Grummites in Passwall, so they probably expected her to know the wildlife already, having spent some time in Passwall.

Regardless, Siena would figure out what a Baliwog was later. For now, the Mazken were on the move, and she intended to keep them in her sights. She got off the ground agilely and followed silently, watching her escorts.

They reached a fork in the path, were it split into left and right around a large moss-covered stone. The path seemed to be carved through the rock, though, as there were large boulders and cliffs of stone around the path as well, like the central rock and surrounding had once been connected, before the path had been made. It also meant whatever was on the other side of the rock could not been seen, until one was on that side of the rock.

Both Mazken stopped, reaching for their weapons, and Siena followed suit, crouching into the shadow of one of the crags of rock. She was tempted to remove her shades, so that in the gloom of the Dementia swamps she could better watch the battle; but without her corrective lenses she'd likely miss the details anyways. They heard something, and she slowed her own breathing to try and hear it as well.

There; the heavy, snotty breathing of those fish-beasts, the Grummites. Just as Siena registered the sound the Mazken moved forward, splitting to each side of the rock and heading around it with speed that made Siena feel slow. The sound of battle touched the afternoon air as she moved towards the other side, but the Grummite was already dead upon her arrival. She'd missed her chance to watch them fight, to see the technique of the guards of Sheogorath. But it did tell her one thing; they were quick about the kill. Siena bit her lip at the thought. Both Mazken relaxed their weapons, and a feeling of calm came upon the area.

The calm was eviscerated by a hideous, ear-grating screech, and a small, long mass landed on Siena's back, causing the Hlaalu agent to scream and thrash, her right hand reaching for a Grummite dagger at her hip while the left hand sought the arm of her aggressor, intent on tossing it off. She rolled, and it with her, still clinging to her back.

She could feel its body beneath her. Long and thin as a bow shaft, it was squirming and thrashing beneath her, and her heart raced as she felt long, sinuous fingers around her shoulders and thin, fang-like protrusions near the back of her head. Pulse pounding, she thrust her dagger under her back, trying to keep the beast pinned. After several stabs, it fell still, and she no longer felt those fangs upon her skull. Rolling off, she looked up from her elbows at her kill, and her heart leaped into her throat.

It was a dark brown, sand-papery skinned beast, and its body was so thin it may as well have been starved. The arms were long and thin, ending in hands with similar fingers, and the double-jointed legs were even thinner. But it wasn't the near skeletal appearance of the beast, or the taunt skin around the ribs that made her choke; it was the head.

Long and conical, it gave off the immediate impression of a leech. Beady eyes stared lifelessly into the sky, and the face elongated into a circular mouth opening with rows of small, sharp teeth, and a long, purple tongue lolling lifelessly from the lips. If the spines along the back and the thin form hadn't told her what it was, the head did. And the appearance of a leech was completely appropriate.

It was a Hunger. On rare occasions during her mercenary work in Morrowind Siena had come upon these demonic Daedra, summoned by bored warlocks or fool-hardy magicians. They were reputed to embrace their victims in those arms, which were longer than proportionally proper for the body size, as they pressed their leech-lips to the victim's face and took the life from their bodies. They were thin, fast, terribly strong, and their spiny tails a force to be reckoned with. But this one was smaller than others she remembered; it must have been starved for some time.

Still? the prospect of Hungers in this realm made Siena very uneasy. And now, with that single fight before these Mazken, Sheogorath's guards had an idea of her fighting style, while she was still clueless about theirs.

Great? this just gets better and better.

Great chapter! There is a definite building menace here, and Siena seems to be getting more and more isolated. I like how you slipped in a reference to Dark Seducers - since they don't call themselves that - when you described Siena as 'seduced into inaction'. Nice little touch! Your absence hasn't negatively affected this - Siena is still as interesting, realistic and relatable as ever. Glad you're writing again!

I had to call in a favor from Dibella and Mannimarco, but eventually they granted me a gift of artistic enthusiasm and necromantic rituals to resurrect dead topics.

I do hope all interest in this fanfic has not fallen flat on it's rump over Spring, as I had a hiatus from writing. I should be able to get a good two or three chapters more written this summer; I hope. Enjoy it, please, and don't hesitate to give me any and all comments, criticism, etc. I will accept anything.

Chapter 18: The Crucible of the Sick
The rest of the trip back to the Shivering Isles' version of civilization was rather uneventful for Siena. The only point of interest was when the two Mazken stopped and began a search of a roadside campsite. It was a three walled shack with a bed roll, table, and a chest, but the entire shack was leaning south a noticeable degree, sinking one corner into the marsh. The Mazken had seemed intent on searching the abandoned camp for some sort of occupant; something about Heretics.

Siena was honestly more interested in what items might exist in this semi-fresh campsite. Maybe a shirt mildly untouched by the swamp; the chains of her cuirass were beginning to agitate her bare navel after all. She was just glad the cuirass lacked sleeves and she was wearing a brassiere, else wearing such armor in this constant grime and heat would have been difficult to bear.

Alas, she had found no shirt, gloves, or any sort of clothing in the campsite. But she had found a leather belt with a hip pack, as well as gold and a third lockpick to add to her collection. Peeling off the Grummite belt from her waist, she slipped on the new belt, and proceeded to empty her previously bulging pockets into the hip pack. The lockpick slipped into her left boot, joining Belmyne's dagger rather than joining the other two picks in her right boot. Slowly but surely, Siena was regaining her supplies from before she'd ended up in this wretched place.

It didn't take long after the campsite incident, however, for Siena to see a stone wall looming above her from atop a plateau. It reminded her of the Imperial forts back in Morrowind, standing tall with battlements. Only this wall lacked battlements, from what she could see. She walked with the Mazken down the stone path, which ran alongside the plateau, until they came to a fork. The right way was a wooden bridge crossing a small river, leading into more marshland and overshadowed by an overarching, winding root as thick as Siena's torso. The Mazken turned left, and Siena followed without question.

This path came to a bend, the outer edge of which was lined by a chest height stone wall of the same material as the larger one. Over this wall, was the first appealing natural scenery Siena had yet to see in Dementia. A series of waterfalls came down from a high cliff in a stair fashion, crashing onto outcrops of rock before cascading down again, branching into more waterfalls before all gathering in a single pond, the mouth of the marshland river. The large mushroom trees and leafy trees around the scene just made it seem more like a scene from the Bitter Coast and West Gash of Vvardenfell, causing Siena to temporarily forget just where she was.

"Welcome to Crucible." The echoing, surreal voice of the Mazken broke through to Siena, dispelling the dream-like state she was in. The Dunmer turned towards the Mazken, looking beyond the purple skinned women to the archway of stone she had motioned to.

Within the archway was a massive set of wooden double doors. Metal rings hung from the closed jaws of faces that could best be described as part Grummite, part lion. Coming from the side of each door were two lines that reached towards the center of the door, before curving towards each other and upwards, crisscrossing in elegant loops. The bottom of the door was covered by a strip of metal, and engraved with images of creatures Siena could not readily identify. It was all rather? fancily fashioned for a realm of demented beings.

"Who is this?" The echoing Mazken voice came not from her two escorts, but a third violet warrior. She was also an archer, and stood guard before the wooden gates with arms at her sides. It was the warrior ?Kiskedrig- who answered for Siena.

"An amnesic Blessed, who was found in a root cavern, captured by Grummites." Kiskedrig proclaimed, and Siena grit her teeth. Let them think you 'Blessed', Siena. Let them think you Blessed. You'll get what you want that way.

"Very well. Madgod's blessings, citizen." The guardwoman told Siena, stepping aside so that she could open the doors.

Siena didn't really know what to expect, exactly, from the capital city of the Daedric Lord of Madness. So far as she had known, Daedra Lords didn't even have capital cities within their realms. What would a city of a wicked god ?of insanity no less- be like? Majestic, wild, untamed and random in architecture perhaps? Siena really couldn't be sure.

But one thing was certain to the stray Hlaalu agent; Crucible was not what she was expecting. The gates opened up into a small courtyard that was circular, and lit by torches that burned an ominous white-blue from the gullet of sculptures that might have been snake heads, fangs reaching for the afternoon sky. The center of the courtyard was a circular garden of long, conical fungi and umbrella cap mushrooms, dominated by a grimy marble statue. A squared pedestal, reaching up beyond Siena's head, with each corner ordained with sculptured arms, reaching with desperation for the top. Atop the pedestal was a throne, sat upon by a robed man who looked almost holy, sporting a chest-length beard. His feet rested upon the head of a serpent, whose body was zigzagged down to the base of the statue. The tail encircled a small carving of the man upon the throne. The other three sides, as Siena moved around it, held those serpent-head torches.

Moving around the statue also gave her a new vantage point of the courtyard. It lead off into three forks; left, right, and straight ahead. The nearest path was to her left, so Siena strode that way.

If the courtyard had not fit her expectations, this path most certainly failed as well. Siena was forced to pinch her nose as a horrid stench assaulted her senses. It came from the sewage, which cut a path like a gentle river through the cobblestone street, pooling on either side of a small gap bridged by two old boards of wood. Ahead of her, the street stopped at a wall. A wide wooden ramp lead up to the raised street beyond that, but from the wall came the source of the putrid liquid, a sewer grate. There were stone buildings on the raised street, but Siena gave the bubbly mass of feces and rotting plant matter one look before deciding the buildings did not matter.

Seeing as the 'pond' of sewage went beyond the archway, she reasoned the center path likewise contaminated and went straight for the right pathway instead. What she found was a dead end wall, from which more sewage poured out. Somehow, a tree and more conical fungi were growing along this shore, a mockery of a lovely landscape piece.

Siena prayed that the center path would be more reasonable to her, and slowly meandered over. Her prayers were half answered. Beyond the center arch was more sewage pooling along the sides of a stone walkway, that lead to a series of staircases and myriad assembly of buildings. Stepping carefully through the archway, Siena briefly considered removing her fur boots, lest she end up stepping in the stewing waste.

"Blessings, citizen." Siena nearly jumped out of her skin at the echoing voice of the Mazken guard, turning and almost drawing her weapon before acknowledging there was no threat at all. The guard scowled and looked away from Siena, who embarrassedly moved on down the path.

The architecture might have been beautiful in a different setting, Siena noted as she walked up the first set of stairs and wandered around a large sewage puddle. It was a mixture of wood roofing and stone masonry. The exterior walls had arches engaged in them that rose to a point, framing similarly pointed arched windows. The buildings had porches facing the street that were roofed in wood and held up by thin columns of stone supporting pointed arches.

If not for the fact that the stone was deeply engrained with dirt and grime, the masonry might have looked well-crafted. If not for the windows being fogged yellow by dirt and dust, they might have added a spacious, well lit air to the area. If not for the growing tentacles of tree trunks, thick vines hanging from the building roofs, and sprouts of fungi amidst the sewage puddles, the scenery of the area might have been enchanting.

Siena moved up a second flight of stairs, thinner than the first as it flanked a large moss-covered boulder. That led to the third flight of stairs, and Siena looked up to read the sign hanging over it.

"Sickly Bernice's Taphouse." Siena read aloud, frowning. "Such a lovely name." As if the carving of a Hunger holding the sign to the wall wasn't charming enough. Reading the sign brought an irreversible reaction, however. The silence of the street was broken by the rumble of her stomach.

An understandable reaction to the thought of food, though considering her circumstances one had to admire the constitution of her stomach. But as she held her gullet she recalled that she hadn't eaten since leaving Passwall. Battling a giant animated blob of flesh, murderous trees, and escaping the imprisonment of weapon wielding frogs while wounded would work up an appetite in anyone. And whatever was in that taphouse had to be better than eating something from the scarce supply of moldy, rotted barrels on the street.

Moving up the stairs and taking an immediate right turn, Siena ignored the small puddle of sewage near the entrance, and the layout of the plaza the taphouse faced. The only thing she took notice of was the handle of the door; it was engraved with what looked, eerily, to be a set of eyes. The door was promptly opened without a chance to dwell on this, and closed just as quickly as she passed through.

The taphouse was dimly lit by candlelight, and short stairs led down from the doorway to a sizable lobby area. Stairs to her left led up to further floors, and steps directly ahead led down to the dinning area. Siena was pleased to note that ?while there was a stench- the taphouse smelled better than the streets. She walked through the stone lobby, her fur boots making not a sound on the old, ragged circular carpet.

She passed by a stone statue in the right corner that made her pause with wonder. It was the torso and head of a man; a rather well toned man, leaning his head back in what could have been reverence or ecstasy. She couldn't tell, but Siena quickly decided the muscled statue to be the only thing in Crucible she liked so far. Which isn't saying much, the sculptor missed a few key details. She mused, moving on with a shake of her head.

Moving down the steps to the dinning area, Siena quickly noted that the only wood materials were the ceiling and support arches, and two large brew barrels in the far corner. The two tables, service counter, and cabinets that furnished the room were made of stone. Even the chairs and bench were sculpted from grey stone.

It all combined with the odor, dim candlelight, and grimy window ambience to give the taphouse a desolate, hopeless, melancholy feel. Bet the food's wonderful. Siena rolled her eyes cynically, and headed over to the counter, placing her ashen grey hands on the stone surface.

"Hello." A droopy, pale-faced woman greeted her, folding her hands over her stomach politely. She was dressed in an elegant crimson dress that looked similar to Relmyna's; a deep cut neck line, feathery frills at the wrists of the sleeves, flared hip that seemed to support itself, and golden embroidery. Very elegant, for a woman working in such a dismal place. And in rather bad condition, Siena noted, eying the stains here and there.

"Sickly Bernice, proprietor. Don't get too close now." She warned Siena, taking a small step away from the counter. Her hand moved up to her mouth, covering it as she gave shallow, strained coughs. "You might catch what I have." She explained when she recovered.

"Catch what?" Siena raised one eyebrow, but respectfully stepped back from the counter. Bernice returned to her side of the stone slab. "What's the matter?"

"Well?" Bernice began, drawing in a wheezy breath. "It seems I am dying." Her voice strained. "Yes, these may be my last days in the Shivering Isles."

"You'd think that a good thing." Siena muttered, not moved by the so far dubious display by the proprietor. She crossed her arms over her cuirass.

"That is," Bernice perked up a little, "unless someone like yourself could help me find the cure. But no one has taken me up on my offer," Bernice sighed, "even with the promise of a reward." I wonder why. Siena didn't really wonder, though. It took some hardy self-control to keep her eyes from rolling.

"Ah well." Bernice sighed deeper. "It's been a good life, I suppose?" Siena pretended hard to look sorry for the woman. It backfired.

"Are you willing to help me?" Bernice suddenly asked, hopeful. Siena's stomach groaned.

"I-"

"Oh thank you so much!" She hoarsely burst out, a smile finally coming to her face. Siena mentally groaned in tandem with her stomach. "There's only one place in all the Isles to get the cure for what I have? Knotty Bramble." Bernice sniffled, before holding out one hand. "I'll mark it on your map."

"Um? yeah, that'd be helpful." Siena replied softly, slowly giving up hope. Still determined, she removed her map from the hip pack she'd found at the abandoned camp shack earlier, and laid it out for Bernice.

"There, on the lowest level of the place, is a pool containing the cure: aquanostrum." Bernice explained in a straining voice as she inked a quill and searched the map. "Legend has it that it bubbles up from around an old statue." Bernice found the place, marked it with a cross, and lifted the quill just in time, as she began another short bout of hoarse coughing. Siena swiftly snatched the map back, shaking it to dry the ink.

"Bring me back the remedy, and I will reward you well." Bernice's voice had gotten worse now, like she was about to lose it. Siena folded the map, not even looking at the new marking. "Here, take this special flask to collect the aquanostrum." She handed Siena a dirty, clouded empty flask. Siena took it, eyes wide. Someone drank outta this thing? Or even would? Regardless, she added it with the map in her hip pack.

"Just? what is this aquanostrum supposed to be, anyways?" Siena asked, out of curiosity and in the hopes that entertaining the woman's illusion might allow her to get closer to her own goal. Like she had with Nanette.

"Oh yes? It's the miracle remedy for any disease!" Bernice beamed. "I was told about this wonderful solution by a recent patron of my establishment. He said if I let him stay for free, he'd tell me how to cure my sickness! How fortuitous!"

"Riiight?" Siena couldn't help it; her eyes rolled.

"Apparently it only exists at the bottom of Knotty Bramble? Ah well. So close, yet so far." Bernice grew distant.

Siena had quiet enough of this, and slapped both her hands on the counter, snapping Bernice to attentiveness. "Listen! I'll get you your cure, but first I'm going to need a meal and somewhere to sleep. Give me whatever you cook here that is slightly decent." There was a collection of gold coins below one hand, part of her treasure from the Grummite kidnapping.

Bernice smiled, taking the gold as Siena went to one of the tables and slung off the dark and dirty quiver of Grummite stone arrows from her back, resting it beside the chair. She sat down with an audible sigh as Bernice came and poured ale into the tin cup on the table.

While Bernice went off to cook the meal, Siena eyed the cup wearily, reached for it, gently raised it, and sniffed the liquid. She gagged slightly, pulling her head back. The water is likely not much better. That thought in mind, she swilled it down, strained a swallow, and found herself rewarded with the arrival of food.

Bernice stood beside the table with a small smile as Siena looked at the plate. One hand slowly crept to her face, a finger gently lowering the arm of her glasses so she could see over them while she leaned over the plate. The ham was a dark reddish brown. Sure, it was cooked, but apparently no one had thought to drain the meat of blood before cooking it. A small pool of the cooked blood lined the bottom of the plate, soaking the rice and carrots.

It was a blessing the bread was placed on top of the rice, freed from being soaked with the blood. Siena side-glanced Bernice, noting she was still watching. Sighing again, she picked up the fork, looking at it with concealed malice.

I hate Crucible.

You have to be insane not to love this, really. Loved every bit of it; although I am a bit disturbed now that I realized I never noticed how freaky some of the stuff in SI is.

I wonder (if) how long until Siena really gets 'blessed'. If she isn't already, what with the Jayred-sounding 'must kill gatekeeper' and seeing the dead in that one chapter.

Looking nice FC :tops: . Can't wait to see what happens to Siena

I have truely been enjoying this story because, as someone else already mentioned, it brings to life some of the wierder aspects of the game that one sometimes glances over whislt playing The Shivering Isles. I'm glad that you picked this up again and I will begin commenting after each chapter -so it doesn't feel like you're writing into some void- but please keep this story going!

Thanks. It was actually my goal when I began this fanfic, to bring the story to life in a way the game failed to. To write about insanity and what should be going on in the mind of the player.

The more people who read it, the more an author is inspired to write and expand on the story. Thank you very much!

I have but the sketchiest of sketchy outlines as to the world of TES, yet I'm able to follow along and enjoy the story. Very good.

Wow...Amazing really. That is the best way to some up this fan-fic.

Yes, I finally finished this story! I had been meaning to read it for some time, and it was well worth it. I agree with just about everyone's comments on this, and I have nothing to complain about :goodjob: I love how she is slowly getting more crazy, the inner dialogue gives it away. As does the more obvious hallucinations of her lover. The one thing I don't like is how she harvested amber, thinking of profit. Same thing with her taking all the gold and lockpicks from the grummites and potions from tree stumps. It just reminds me of what I would do as a player I know she is a Hlaalu member, but still...

It makes me want to pick up SI again, if OB didn't crash every five minutes

Looking forward to more, and keep up the good work.

PS Your story is exactly 89 pages long and 37,598 words :celebration: Still a novella, but seems to be heading in the novel direction. Only about 12,402 words until then.

It will likely be average novel sized by the time it finishes, as I have not even had Siena meet Sheogorath yet. We've barely begun the main questline

And she took the potions because of her injuries, not profit, and the need to heal. The lockpicks, replenishing her lost arsenal for later. She's an agent, she needs them. But yeah, the gold and amber was pure profit... but who wouldn't pick up gold when they see it? Especially if you might need it for food, lodging, or buying a replacement weapon...

A novel eh? Would you ever think of getting it published? Just for the hell of it?

I don't think you could legally publish fanfictions of copyrighted material. I would have to get permission from Bethesda, and they would get most of the profit, not me. I doubt I'd make much profit anyways considering it's just a rewrite of the game's plot, how many people would pay to read that? Sadly, not many.

Yeah, as many other writers of huge fan fics have said (Peleus, Alexander, etc.) all the things that make a fan fic a fan fic are copywrited by Bethesda. You can write something that is inspired by this, so long as you don't use any names, and try to publish it. Of course, the number one comment any author wants to hear is "You should publish this." Or some form of that

A brilliant read so far FC4! Makes me want to play SI all over again ^_^

Can't wait for the next chapter!

Awesome, a new fan coming outta left field! Surprised, I be. But delighted. I hope to have the next chapter done by the end of the month.

Holy hell I only just noticed that this has been going on for over a year now! Good stuff.

I agree with Chriso: congrats. I just popped in after about that long being dropped off the face of the planet. It's awesome to see you're still working on this.

Now I just need a couple weeks to catch up.

Oh Frank... you always remind me of how bad I really am when it comes to writing.