» Tue May 17, 2011 5:44 am Historical Data: This story takes place around 230 of the 4th Era. It has been two hundred and thirty years since the Oblivion Crisis.
The edifice was a crumbling ruin.
At least, that's what Pel Janvon thought as he and his master - the Sorcerer Claudius Vitucius - slowly wound their way through a forest towards the crumbling stone castle.
"There it is Pel!" Claudius exclaimed. "Battlethorn Castle! Ha! I knew those moldy tomes in the Chorrol Vaults were correct."
"Yes, but master what makes you think we'll find anything in there?" Pel waved at the ruins as they approached. "This castle had to have been abandoned shortly after the Oblivion Crisis to be in such disrepair. Surely anything worth taking has long since been removed."
"Don't be so certain of that, Pel." Claudius said with a sly grin. "I managed to get some notes collected from when the Synod and the College of Whispers used to be one organization - the Mages Guild. If those notes are correct, then Battlethorn Castle was also home to a prominent mage of that order - maybe even the Archmage!
And Mages always know how to hide things. Look at how many centuries the Ayleid Ruins kept their treasures before the old magic finally dissipated. No Pel, I'm certain if we can find a way into that building then there will be something of value left."
Pel didn't argue. Claudius was a talented Sorcerer, but he had a boyish belief in anything he read, no matter how fantastic. If the legends around this castle were true, it wasn't just home to a powerful Mage, but also the leader of the illusive Thieves Guild, a Vampire, a Dark Brotherhood Assassin, the Champion of Cyrodill, and last but certainly not least, the Mad God Sheogorath, Daedric Prince of Madness. The last could potentially be true, Pel reflected, since no two accounts of this ruin could agree on who once lived here.
As they approached what used to be the courtyard, the hair on the back of Pel's head stood on end. He glanced around but nothing struck him aside the rusting heap of an old Dwemer Forge half buried in debris. Then it struck him...everywhere he looked he saw evidence of decay but the door leading into the castle proper was as sturdy and polished as though it were brand new.
"Master..." Pel whispered.
"I know, Pel." Claudius replied, eyes rapt upon the door. "It's not just that unusual sense of oddity either. There is magic in the air. Keep your guard up."
Pel nodded, swallowing. While he was as talented in spellcraft as any magically inclined Breton, he was still very new to the craft. His spells had more chance to not work at all, as he fumbled through half learned incantations. Claudius was teaching him, but Pel was aware he still had a long way to go. As the two approached the door, Claudius glanced at Pel and raised an eyebrow. Pel nodded slightly, and Claudius put a hand to the door, and heaved with all his might. Rusted and hinges desperate for oil squealed in protest as the door slowly opened to admit the two mages. The interior was as black as a moonless night, and Claudius uttered an incantation that caused a small ball of green light to flash into being in the center of the room, revealing a monster.
Pel cried out and tripped in his sackcloth robe as he backed up, causing him to land firmly on his back. Claudius let out a laugh and held out a hand, which disoriented Pel as he thought for sure Claudius would be too busy to offer him assistance, let alone laugh at the situation. Pel hesitantly took the hand offered and as he got up, realized what he was looking at wasn't a monster. Or rather, wasn't a live one.
"By the Nine..." Pel whispered.
"Indeed." Claudius remarked as he stepped forward and brushed away some of the dust and cobwebs that had accumulated on the corpse. "I've only seen these in historical texts. They are Daedroth, last seen almost two hundred years ago."
"So they're extinct?" Pel asked.
"Hardly extinct. Just not commonly summoned any longer. They are...difficult to command and control." A voice from a nearby stairwell remarked.
Both Claudius and Pel whirled, prepared to face off a threat, but instead what greeted them was the sight of a elderly, pale Bosmer wearing a black suit with almost comically stuffed shoulders and a red shirt with a collar that encompassed the entire neck. The Bosmer's hair was bright yellow - an unusual color - styled straight up and around his neck he wore a heavy golden chain.
"Forgive my interruption." The Bosmer remarked into the stunned silence.
"Ah...no need." Claudius replied, visibly shaken. "Forgive us for trespassing Master...?"
The Bosmer smiled. "I am no master here. I am the Chamberlin, Af. My master bids you welcome to Battlethorn Castle, and would receive you both in the Dining Hall."
Af walked down the stairs and motioned towards a chamber beyond the stuffed Daedroth. "If you will follow me?"
Claudius and Pel fell into step with Af as they exited the dusty chamber and somehow stepped into a brightly lit, well maintained gallery. Claudius and Pel both stopped, wide eyed. Then Claudius laughed.
"An illusion!"
Af smiled. "Quite. We keep the courtyard and entry chamber deliberately in disrepair as to encourage would be treasure seekers to be on their way. If they continue to nose about, they come across piles of rubble, blocking access. If, for whatever reason, they stumble through the illusion well..."
Af motioned to the far corners of the gallery, where men in Daedric Armor wielding crystalline swords stood at attention at the passing guests. Claudius nodded numbly, then took in the gallery. A festive warm light shone down from the elaborate candelabras, and accent candles were placed near display cases and other items of note. Claudius took in the impressive collection of arms and armor, then blinked. At first, he took them to be quaint trophies, but looking closer at the gleaming golden long swords, the crystalline swords of the guards, one massive crystal sword, and several staves in particular...
"Are those...?"
"Yes." Af commented, almost sounding bored. "They are indeed what you presume them to be - artifacts of Daedric origin."
Claudius mouth literally hung open. "What does your master do that he's managed to assemble such a collection?" Claudius eyes wandered to one particular display and he svcked in a breath. "The Cowl of Nocturnal?!"
"My master is retired now." Af remarked as they approached a door on the east side of the room. "But in his youth, he was a man of many talents. This way please."
Pel paused by the door to glance at a display case that housed a simple looking punch dagger. There was obviously something special about it, though Pel couldn't determine what it might be. However, the more he stared at the innocent item, the more it seemed to fill his gaze, and Pel almost thought he heard whispering. Suddenly, he felt pressure on his wrist and he blinked, realizing Claudius held his right hand in a vice grip as the hand itself was reaching into the now opened display case for the dagger. Pel shook his head and noticed Af give a signal, to which he noticed the silent guards re-sheathing their swords and resuming their positions. Pel gasped and took a few steps back.
"Forgive me, I should have thought to warn you." Af said in a mournful tone. "These artifacts are the realm of various Daedra Princes, and as a result they have quite the urge to wander. The fact my master has managed to keep them all in one place for so long is a testament to his abilities, but now I fear most of this collection simply wants out."
"And, unless I miss my guess that's one artifact that shouldn't get out." Claudius observed as he deliberately sealed the display case.
"Indeed." Af nodded. "Mehrunes Dagon was a blight upon Tamriel. It's best if his Razor remains forgotten, and his power to influence Mundas remains weakened."
"So the illusions aren't just to keep treasure hunters out." Pel observed.
"Sad, but true." Af said as he escorted them into a lavish Dining Room. "The various cults and worshipers often come looking for the artifacts of their lords. It got ever so much of a bother to fight them off every year. Now, if you'll excuse me I shall fetch my master. He ever wants to meet with you."
As Af retired, Pel and Claudius looked at one another.
"I don't like this." Pel blurted.
"Nor do I." Claudius admitted. "I fear few men, but a man who can horde Daedric artifacts is no one to trifle with. And his guards! I'm still trying to identify those weapons."
"I think I recognized them." Pel said. "My Uncle was a swordmaker, and he had this old book about "Weapons of Oblivion" that I read when I was growing up. If that book is accurate, then those guards were wielding Swords of Order." Pel looked uncomfortable. "The only way to obtain them is to take them from Knights of Order - the daedra of Jyggalag."
"I grow less and less fond of this place." Claudius admitted. "It is a treasure trove unlike what I could have imagined, but there must be a catch to how all this came about."
The conversation ceased as Af returned, escorting a tired looking Breton with pure white hair into the room. The Breton was dressed in a simple black robe and serviceable brown boots, and seemed to be wearing prison manacles.
"My lords, I give you my Master. Lord of Battlethorn Castle, Callan."
"Callan?" Claudius remarked as the Breton sat at the head of the table. "Callan who?"
"Just Callan." The Breton smiled a close lipped smile. "I must say, it's nice to finally have some visitors. I was beginning to worry this place had been forgotten."
"Well, by the looks of the Courtyard and Entry Foyer, you seem to want it to be." Pel remarked.
"Bah. True." Callan admitted. "Still, if I'd know how good a job my illusions would do, I wouldn't have done them quite so well. It gets lonely here, often."
"Then why not move to Chorrol?" Claudius asked.
"I owned a house in Chorrol once." Callan admitted. "A beautiful town, but no. Battlethorn has been my home for so long, I couldn't abandon her. And believe me, there are other places I could reside if I so chose. But my heart will always belong here."
"Also there are my friends and companions to think of. A smaller abode would hardly accommodate them all." Callan rang a small silver bell and from a servants passage, a procession of what appeared to be servants entered, carrying trays of food. They were all dressed identical - blue robes with a crystalline white armor on the upper chest, and all wearing the same sort of crystalline white hood that obscured all their features.
"The regalia of Priests of Order." Callan remarked as Claudius and Pel both looked on in confusion. "I have them wear it as sort of a joke. Indulge an old man in his little eccentricities. Regardless, now it is dinner time."
Pel reached for a bowl of fruit left near him, but as he touched the apple at the top of the bowl, his hand went straight through it. Pel glanced up in shock, and noticed for the first time something that had eluded him about this man Callan...his eyes were red.
"I said it was dinner time." Callan remarked, his lips slowly parting in a wide grin that revealed two elongated incisors. "I never said whose dinner time it was, did I?"
Pel looked in shock as the servants ripped away their hoods to reveal leering, hungry countenances of Vampires. Claudius erupted from his seat, throwing a fireball straight at Callan, who was knocked back in his chair and setting the dining room ablaze. Vampiric servants roared in outrage and shock as Claudius magically manipulated the flames to arc towards them.
"Pel! Run!" Claudius commanded just as Af grabbed Claudius by the hair, pulled his head back, and sunk fangs deep into Claudius' neck. Claudius cried out in pain as Pel stumbled towards the door in terror. As he erupted into the gallery, he noticed the guards all had their helmets off and were hissing at him.
Not thinking, Pel smashed the display case by the dining room door and took up Mehrune's Razor. The guards immediately backed off, keeping Pel encircled but allowing him freedom to move. The cursed blade screamed in Pel's mind for bloodshed, but he blocked it out as he made his way outside. The vampiric guards crowded in the shadows of the doorway, fearful to come into the sun.
Pel laughed at his good fortune, but the laugh died on his lips as he felt his body go rigid and the Razor slip from his grasp. As he watched, the dagger hit the ground and despite the lack of underbrush, seemed to vanish.
"Well, that's annoying." Callan remarked in Pel's ear, standing behind him in open sunlight. "Congratulations kid, you just let the most destructive Daedric Artifact loose upon the world once again. As the Hero of Kvatch and former Champion of Cryodill, I have to say that makes me angry."
Pel tried to speak. "H-h-h-h-h"
"How can I be out in the sunshine?" Callan asked, smiling. He stepped back and took a deep breath. "Being Master has its advantages you know. Like the fact I'm not bound to Batltethorn and can actually go out and get a decent meal every once and awhile. But one vampire draws a lot less attention then a whole castle full of them, so I kind of forbid the others from partaking in any liberties. From time to time I open up the Isles to them, but it's such a bother to clean up afterward."
Pel noticed for the first time Callan had changed his attire. He was now clad in a festive purple, gold, and green outfit and leaning on a cane-like staff.
"It's a pity, really." Callan continued. "You had some promise. And if it were just me and my adoring fan of a chamberlain, I'd probably have found some use for you. But I'm a sentimental old fool to keep all these others about, and they need to eat just as much as I do. So, as fun as this has been...in you go."
Pel felt himself being shoved back into the doorway, and greedy hands awaited him.
