Mad God- An Elder Scrolls Fanfiction

Mad God- An Elder Scrolls Fanfiction

Status: In Progress

Genre: Fan Fiction

Details

Status: In Progress

Genre: Fan Fiction

Content

Submitted: May 02, 2017

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Content

Submitted: May 02, 2017

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Some divine influence was the answer. Perhaps the hand of Sithis himself was what brought Lucien Lachance to his uncertain surroundings. In his ethereal form he had been passed down by three listeners. He remembered the first one the best, and had probably enjoyed their company the most of all of them. After a while, however, the original four had only been reduced to poor Babette, who still lived in Dawnstar. The current listener was a Khajiit by the name of M’aruco. She was cold-blooded, but some of his gears were missing. Lucien wasn’t overly fond of her, but served her just as well as any Listener.

Lucien followed M’aruco as they traversed through an unnatural land. The Shivering Isles were not for those with right minds, and that is exactly why the Khajiit had taken them there. When they had first entered the fringe they were greeted by a funny little man calling himself the mayor of Passwall. Though condescending, he had directed them through the gates of Madness, where they had first entered Dementia. Some disturbing energy had begun to emanate from M’aruco as they trekked the paths. When they’d made it to the confusing New Sheoth, M’aruco stopped in a taphouse.

“Lachance,” she said, sitting down.

“Yes, Listener,” he replied respectfully.

“I’m letting you off, go have some fun,” she said smiling, then burying herself in alcohol.

Lucien crossed his arms and rolled his eyes, but held his tongue. Not bothering to use the door he floated through the walls of the Tavern, returning to the streets of Crucible. Having no desire to go in any particular direction, he wandered up some stairs to a seemingly interesting building. Paying no mind to the guards, who payed no mind in return, he walked down a stretch of concrete that was completely divided. He floated up the stairs and through the walls of the palace. Making himself invisible, he felt what little was left of himself go cold...well colder than usual. It wasn’t the presence of the Mad God that had him at unease, no, it was the Mad God’s eyes. He moved closer and saw something familiar in them. It was a familiar glow of ruthlessness he had not seen for quite some time. Why, it almost felt like a century.

He reached out, but suddenly the Mad God reached out and grabbed his arm forcing him to become visible. “Well now! What a fine one we have here! What do you say, Haskill, shall I throw him back or keep him?”

“Hmm, keep him my Lord. I’m sure he could be most entertaining,” the Chamberlain replied in his snot-nosed tone of voice.

Sheogorath turned back to Lucien, but before he could say anything something in his gut twinged. “That face…” Lucien stared into the Mad God’s eyes. He could tell that he remembered. The murder of Rufio, the purification of Cheydinhal, the treachery of Mathieu Bellamont, and his own death at the hands of the Black hand. Haskill glanced over and saw the the Mad God had not moved, and a petrified look was upon his face.

“My Lord?”

“Haskill! Leave us or you’ll regret it!” he shouted angrily at the Breton. Haskill bowed his head.

“As you wish, Lord Sheogorath,” he said, dissipating into a cloud of purple smoke.

Finally, the Mad God released Lucien from his grasp. It had been quite a long time since someone of flesh had touched him, it was refreshing to say the least. Sheogorath reached out and gently grabbed Lucien by the chin. “Lucien?” he croaked.

“Yes...Listener,” Lucien said, narrowing his eyes.

Sheogorath smiled and giggled, letting go of Lucien. “Listener? Hahaha, no one has called me that in a long time.”

“You’ve strayed from Sithis,” Lucien seethed. Sheogorath frowned, angrily.

“Come now my ethereal friend, we don’t see each other in years and you berate me about gods? I AM a god you fool! A demented daedric god who you’re boring to tears!” Lucien looked down, ashamed that he’d said the wrong thing. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Sorry?” Sheogorath laughed. “Lucien, the last I saw of you, you were dangling upside down in applewatch like a butchered boar. I…” Lucien saw something in the Mad God’s eyes, it was almost like a flash of sanity. “I never even got to say good bye.” Sheogorath looked up at Lucien like a kicked puppy, but then Lucien saw the sanity leave his old friend once again. “Oh myself being around you is making me sane again! I’m getting bored, bored, BORED!” he shouted. Lucien stepped back, slightly frightened. The Mad God grabbed the spectral assassin by his robes, Lucien still wasn’t used to having people touch him. “You’re lucky I like you Lucien Lachance, and…” the grip loosened, he could tell Sheogorath was struggling. “Well, goodbye. I would like you to leave my realm now, come back if you ever want to chat. Ta-ta!” he said, and a green smoke enveloped Lucien.

He woke up in the blackness of the void. His head was buzzing, he felt sick to his stomach, and the odor of cheese made him want to rip of his nose. He sat down on what might have been an edge, letting his feet dangle. M’aruco probably wouldn’t notice his absence, and for that he was grateful. Desperate for some company, he got up and searched for his fellow assassins, and tried to forget the day.

 


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