» Tue May 22, 2012 3:54 am 16 Accords of Madness
Volume III: Sanguine’s Tale
Raelyne of Dusk was a courtesan on the streets of her said birthplace, the city of dying shadows. Fate didn’t burden her with financial issues, and neither did she live a troubled childhood. She indulged herself freely and willingly in the arts of hedonism, her Lord’s domain. Men would purchase her expensive jewelry and dresses, so that the sight of her would please mostly anyone. The gifts of these men only increased her wealth and fame. However she did not deem herself fortunate, as she would always ask for more, and among the things she wished the most was a loyal lover, one that would would not ask her to justify her deeds.
Samentyl the merchant was a good-looking and learned man she met in the marketplace of Dusk. They slowly developed a supposedly healthy relationship. She thought him sensible enough to understand that she cannot and will not ditch her lifestyle. Through his words and actions, Samentyl proved her wrong, and by the time she realized this, he had already found himself another consort.
“I couldn’t care less for those fools! They pay well, that’s all.” she said.
“Silence! How stupid of me to think you’d at least remember my name…” he replied. “Soon enough I’ll move with one true to herself! “
“Oh well, and why are you telling me this?”
“Whenever you decide to cancel your business, write me. Write me a letter. Go to my sister’s, and hand it in to her. She’ll let me know whether your words are still worth my time.”
Those were the last words he uttered before leaving her deserted.
Sheogorath knew of the courtesan’s tale, and decided to speak to her master, the fellow Daedric Prince Sanguine, in whose affairs his interest was constantly increasing.
“Brother Sanguine.” the Mad God said. “I’ve come with a proposal. A servant of yours needs you now more than ever. The mortal suffers more than she know… for love. Silly her. Raelyne is sneaking away from you. I give you ten days to claim her back. During this time, I’ll make sure the boy gives his best to keep her entertained. It’s just a game! You win, she’s yours, but should I win, I’ll challenge her to survive madness, if you allow me to, of course.”
“So be it. I like your games. I’ll play along. We’ll see how this ends.”
Thus, as expected, Sanguine agreed to gamble. The first three days the courtesan was gifted with the luck of a sly thief, but she brooded anyway. The fourth day Sanguine gifted her with his time.
“You are my servant. You’ve seen my world, and you love it. Why cast yourself out of it, mortal?” he spoke to Raelyne, yet her mood did not change. She was still longing for her lover.
The night to come Raelyne dreamed of her good days.
The sixth day the Altmeri prosttute was visited by a pair of bards. They did not manage to cheer her up. The male bard stayed the night, and gave her his own blessed amulet, which made tongues silver. The next day he bought her a stuffed Cliff Racer, bird of the east. She rebuffed it. Sickened by her distant and ungraceful attitude, the bard left.
The ninth day she drank all the Skooma she could find under her roof, then went to bed. She fell asleep quickly, and sank into a dreamless night.
The tenth day she decided to write Samentyl a letter, and visit his sister, whose estate was not too far from hers. Deed once done, she locked all doors and gates and took a walk to this lady’s place. She knocked at the door, and surprisingly, Rainyl was the one to welcome her.
“Good day to you. Why are you here?” he said.
“Forgive me my sins.” replied Raelyne.
As she walked in, a majestic sight unveiled before her eyes. The living room looked different than before, beautiful and elegant. The window curtains were of a pleasing dark red, the carpet was gold like that of kings, the furniture – sophisticated. Samentyl’s sister had apparently become interested in collecting clutter, the most expensive one, as one could reason by glancing upon the shelves in the room. At the center lied a table made of solid wood.
“Forgive mine, too, if there are any. Now, sit down, please. We need to talk. I’ll bring you some wine.”
She found herself a chair, and set down. The host went upstairs, and quickly returned with a bottle of wine, which he held in his left hand, for in his right he held a beautiful red rose. He dropped the flower on the table.
“Help yourself.” he said. Nevertheless, he poured the beverage into his lady’s glass.
“I wrote you these lines.” said the elven woman, as she pushed the letter towards the lad, as she tasted the sweet wine. Frowning, he opened it. He grasped the rose and plucked its petals as he read the words his apologetic lover painted on the sheet of paper. Ten petals he plucked, one at a time. He plucked the tenth, the lady died.
The mask of Sheogorath finally melted, and Sanguine was there, standing before him, struggling to wear a stoic look.
“It seems I have won, brother Sanguine. As the servant, so the god. Why play by the rules, by my rules, could you tell me? Your mortal didn’t pass my trial, therefore she’s going to my place. And if my words confuse you, know that I don’t steal minds, they come to me! It was all just a game, right? Come, take what’s left of this rose.”
Irritated, Sanguine vanished.
