Lord of Order

You know not how it came to you, and the idea fills you with disgust, but you have had a plan. A foolish and poorly thought out plan that you can only hope fails from the outset so you will not need to follow through on it. Currently Dyus is off for this first step, taken slightly early from the cult and seeking to establish an audience with the "Hero of Kvatch", assuming they have not been completely taken over by the mantle of Sheogorath. If you are lucky than Dyus will be rejected and sent back empty handed. If not, you shall meet this young god at a place you can both agree to. For now though you have work to do, and hopefully distract yourself with.

Once again you reach out and below the surface of Skyrim and its holds, searching for a conduit of your will that you might use to contact these Falmer. You start your search somewhat close to where you had left off with that one tribe, those that had cut off your attempts to make them see reason by destroying the stone you had used, hoping that they wouldn't regard you with that same fear as they had before. It takes some searching, a search that eventually leads you into a dwarvern hold now claimed by their former slaves.

You search eventually leads you into what you assume to be an orrery, with multiple models of heavenly bodies, Nirn at its center, Masser and Secunda in the sky, a large disk at the far edge representing magnus projecting light over it all. Nirn is made of brass, Masser from reddish bronze now covered in green corrosion from time gone unpolished, but Secunda, the lesser moon, was made of a large and unpolished diamond. The stone is rather cloudy, and would hold little value among men, but it does make it resemble the lesser moon more. For you, however, it is perfect. Encased within a Dwemer construction it should be durable, so any attempts to destroy it would be less successful than during your first attempt to convert the twisted Falmer, but it is also in a central location for this tribe, as evidenced by the huts and Falmer currently making use of the room.

Some are carving chitin shells into forms, either to make new huts or to be made into arms and armor. Others work with leather and hide, perhaps from wildlife captured from above ground or some burrowing creature that lives below. Simple creations, similar to those of early man and mer, but a sign that there's still some intelligence to them and they aren't simple beasts.

You wait for more to arrive, wanting your words to have as much reach as possible before you begin. You exert your will upon the stone of Secunda causing it to glow slightly, but more importantly let out a low hum for the blind Falmer to hear. The first reaction isn't promising, a sense of panic spreading among the Falmer as they drop tools to pick up weapons, but they soon calm as they inspect your catalyst. As soon as a decent enough crowd has formed, you speak.

"Hear me Falmer, and know that I am an ally. I am lord Jygglag, the prince of order, and I come to you with an offer." You wish you could simply demand their loyalty, it would make things easier for both yourself and them, but mortals are ever skittish and fearful things, so an offer shall serve you better than demands. The Falmer chitter and talk amongst themselves in their broken language, in which you hear them argue over whether you are a specter or monster. Eventually one among them, not a shaman or leader but one of their crafters who had been working at chitin earlier, steps forward against the wishes of the others.

"Tell us, ghost of the moon, what offer is this?" while others shy away from the group after this one speaks, none among them try to stop him, leaving him as the only member of the group to talk with you. Shorter than the average, wearing a long leather skirt stained by work with its hair bound behind its head by a chitin hair ring. "An offer that would let you reclaim the dignity stolen from you by Dwemer poisons and generations of abuse. To grant you back the sight that was taken from you. To reclaim your place among civilized mortals as more than just a monster to be hunted and slain."

"And the cost? We made a deal in desperation before, we will not accept just to be made slaves again." The Falmer is quick witted, quick with a response but not devolving into angered rebuttals as the shaman had in your first attempt. You don't respond for a moment, choosing your words carefully. "tell me your name craftsman. I would know with whom I'm speaking." "Varhis of the shellshapers." It says, not skipping a beat. "The payment for my aid, Varhis, and the tool by which it may be done is your faith, your worship. Without that I could not begin to undo what has been done. I shall not force you to hold no other gods beyond myself, nor to supplant your leadership with myself. In exchange I promise that your curse shall be undone in time.

I do not expect you to answer immediately. Take my proposal to whomever you deem necessary, and once you have found your answer return to this orrery where I shall be waiting." And with those words you allow the moon to dim signaling an end to the conversation, though you keep your attention upon the place. As soon as they believe you gone the Falmer erupt into noise, conversing and debating. Eventually they leave, leaving only a small group behind to keep an eye on the moon you had inhabited. It takes them a good few months to hear a response, and in all that time you have heard nothing from Dyus. You would worry were you not able to sense him, still there in the isles. If he had been under any spell or threat you would have known, so you can only assume your proposal has not yet been rejected.

One day, however, the Falmer return, and quite a few at that. Many among them are dressed in ceremonial garb if you had to guess, their leaders. Varhis is also among them, now wearing a shawl of some kind of hide from a short haired creature, perhaps an indicator of some role they now have him play or a reward for being the first so speak with you. Eventually they gather around the orrery, the supposed leaders at the front though flanked by guards and shamans, with Varhis at the very front.

"Ghost of the Moon who claims the name Jyggalag, the leaders of the falmeri tribes have come with an answer to your offer. Answer our call so that you might hear us!" Varhis says as the room grows quiet. There was no need for his dramatics but you will allow them. You enforce your will upon the gemstone moon once more, causing it to glow and hum once more. The guards and mages tighten their grip on arms and staffs, though it will prove unnecessary. "Then speak so that I may hear."

One of the leaders, armored in chitin and with a dwemer sword at its hip and female from their build, steps forward as Varhis retreats. "We shall allow you to work your magics, though they shall start only with the tribe of Mzin. You shall also grant us your protection from the nords who try to invade and the dwemak machines. If there are any lies or deceptions, then we shall destroy your stone, as the tribe of Rald has before." So they do remember your previous attempt to convert them. Very well. "Your threats are unnecessary and futile, but if those be your terms I shall accept them." You could simply move to another stone as you had before, but you shall allow them to feel as though they hold more sway in this agreement than they do if they agree to your worship.

The next few days involve you having this Mzin tribe build a proper place of worship around the orrery. Already you can feel their faith beginning to flow into you. it is different from that of the cult in Winterhold, just ever so slightly. It is more fervent, desperate for your promise to be true, whereas the Winterhold cult is more respectful, tempered. Soon enough the Mzin tribe has begun to hold weekly prayers to you for their protection and "resurrection". Now it falls to you to create the blessing that would undo their curse. It would be much the same as a regular blessing, though far more invasive to the Falmer. It would not be an immediate process, even once you have the blessing fully formed, as it would need to slowly rebuild the Falmers body's and minds to prevent them from breaking.

You are nearly ready to begin the creation of the Falmers blessing when you notice Dyus return. He steps over the threshold into your realms, enters your fortress, and makes his way to the chamber where you would build your court. He looks healthier now, skin no longer shrunken to his bones and frail as paper. He still appears aged, however, as he sports some wrinkles, and his hair now has some of its old luster back as well, though it is still fully white. You nearly fear to hear what he has to say, to hear Sheogoraths answer, but you ask anyway.

"Tell me Dyus, What response does the prince of madness have for my request?" You wish you hadn't asked. "he has agreed to meet with you, your grace. He does however request that you meet him at his palace within New Sheoth, as he cannot leave it for the time being. He has promised that so long as you are there for diplomatic purposes nothing ill shall befall you. He also requests that you take on a less fearsome guise, as the memory of the Greymarch still lives on in the minds of his people." You give a nod and tell Dyus "return to him and tell them I shall be there shortly." Dyus bows before leaving on his way back to the realm of madness. Better to be done with this quickly.

---

You take on an old semblance of yours from when you would walk the lands of man and mer. It is one that you had worn often as Sheogorath, of a nobleman, regal and dignified, though he dressed it as a fool, an entertainer. Sheogorath had let the hair grow gray, an attempt to seem older, more friendly, but you keep it dark, dressed in the clothing of a general, simple and sensible and not the gaudy, multicolored attire Sheogorath had. Your eyes, no matter how much you might try, however, stay pure white, almost like that of your obelisks of order. You doubt, however, that his subjects will have enough sense of mind to notice.

The trek to the isles is short, though each step is heavy and forced. You have no desire to see your home, twisted and corrupt as it now is, but you need to make allies. When you step over his threshold you take a moment to force yourself to look at it, to accept what it has become and that you can only move forward from here. It is overgrown, untamed, with wild daedroth and creatures of madness wherever you may look. You make your way to N ew Sheoth, across the roads of mania and dementia, through the frantic and winding streets as madmen run about, though thankfully they ignore you and avoid you for the most part. Then finally, with the eyes of saints and seducers upon you, you reach the palace.

You see Haskill, Sheogoraths chamberlain, standing at the doors to the palace, waiting for you. "Lord Jyggalag, it is wonderful to see you so soon after your last visit." His voice is tinged with sarcasm, barely breaking his ever neutral tone. You wonder if he sees you more as his old lord than the god who destroyed this realm so many times. "I have come to speak with Sheogorath. Open the doors and let us speak." You say unto the old man. "Have patience, you will. I must, however, make you aware of my lords current condition. Firstly, these doors are locked, with the entrances to the courts of mania and dementia blocked, barred, and welded shut, as he has no desire to have visitors. Not even the guards are allowed within. Secondly, my lord has been having…issues lately, unrelated to his attuning to his mantle. He may be difficult to talk with at times. Thirdly, I must ask you to not speak of any of this beyond this courtyard. Now, let me get the doors for you."

He raises his left hand till it is parallel to his head, and then with a snap of his fingers the doors slowly creak open. No lights are cast, no fires burn. You see a figure slumped forward in the throne before you, softly muttering. As you enter the doors beyond you close, and Sheogorath rises in his chair. He is not as he was. The man standing before you does not sport the face of the wizened old man he had been before the Greymarch, nor is it that of the hero who had defeated you. No, it is one of the many forms you once used to walk among men, the man you had first taken the form of when trying to instill order upon man, influencing them and having them implement laws to maintain order and civilization.

It's a younger man, Breton the people would call him now, his hair a light brown, a slim face, a well trimmed beard and moustache, the only difference from your original form being the golden eyes with slit pupils. The first face of Sheogorath. Theres mischief in the eyes, but its drowned out by a look of exhaustion, a sheen of sweat on his forehead. "Welcome, honored guest, to my hall. You must forgive the lack of red carpet and tables of exotic and screaming foods, but my minds been a bit split lately." There's something…off about them. More so than him simply being a growing god, but something beyond that that hurts to focus on.

"I trust Dyus has told you my purpose here?" you say, voice harsher than your intent. You would hope to not show any emotion in this talk, as much as you dislike every aspect of this. "He might've, btu id hear it in your own words if you'd grant me the pleasure." He says with a catlike grin, though the voice doesn't have much strength behind it. You find yourself frowning unbidden.

"I will be brief madman. We each have something the other needs. You have taken much of my power when you ended the Greymarch, but you lack experience. You have little idea how to be a Daedra and little more how to rule over parts of reality. I propose we aid each other, to protect the other from the machinations of the other princes, with me teaching you how to be a prince, and you returning unto me that which is mine." You let the offer hang in the air for a moment, waiting for a response, but what he says catches you off guard.

"While I imagine that could be very useful at the moment, I'm afraid I find myself of many differing minds and opinions about it. You'll need to give me time to converse with myself and come to a decision. On it and many other things, I'm afraid." There's a tiredness to the voice, the eyes seeming to flicker in and out of focus as he tries to look into your eyes. And you now notice it clearly. You focus your mind, look not just at the physical body but also the soul and notice how it flickers. It does not threaten to go out, but it continuously finds itself overlapped by many others, many souls and many minds in the same place. That's when you remember what was happening in Cyrodil at the moment.

"You are the center of a dragon break." The multiple flows of time, the many possibilities for what could have been, and who could have been the hero of the mortals and the one to take on the godly mantle, instead of just one being true, they all were. Each person that could have been that hero was, and all are now Sheogorath, struggling to coalesce into a single mind. "Is that the word for it? I worried my mind simply fractured upon taking the mantle." This tone is different now, as if one of the other fragments of possibility has taken over, more serious and morose though they may be delving into the aspect of dementia.

Now that you know what to think of, you notice that many parts of your memory no linger make sense. You remember an imperial entering the shivering isles, a nord slaying the foes in his path, a Khajit traipsing the lands, and a Breton slaying your avatar. Each one separate from the other, each one true. You find yourself pitying the mortals that found themselves here, but perhaps ending up as Sheogorath would be for the best, to prepare their mind for what madness awaits them should they fail to converge.

"Let me add an offer onto what I already have then. I shall do as I can to help you manage your many minds of madness, to forge them into one so that your only worry need be on the matters of a prince. Agree to my previous terms, of alliance and recompense, and you shall have my aid." To your frustration the prince is once again slow to answer as he debates with himself, quiet muttering coming from the god on his throne, though eventually a consensus is reached. "We would add our own terms as well to this pact." The voice is hoarser, gruff and deep.

"First, knowledge of our condition cannot be allowed outside this chamber. Neither that Sheogorath can't control his own madness, or that the hero of Cyrodil became a daedric prince. If the people of the empire were to hear that, or the princes learned of my weakness, I fear what the results would be. Second, you will move your realm closer. Not onto our doorstep, but neighbors so that we can more easily communicate and aid the other. That's something we can do, right?" With a silent nod from you he continues on. "Lastly, a good friend to at least some of us died to keep our kind out of Nirn. Not gonna betray his efforts just because were now one of the Daedra, at least most of us wont. So, not only do I expect no attempts to be made to breach the veil by us, I don't want our other brothers trying to copy Mehrunes really poorly thought out plan. I'm not going to ask you to go to war with them, just that you prevent any attempts. Are these terms acceptable?"


That he thinks he can negotiate is degrading. The worst part is that he is right. "I will accept, Sheogorath. And you had best grow used to the title. A mortal has no place among gods." A few chuckles escape the mad prince. "Oh don't worry, I've plenty experience with Daedra, I imagine we'll be just fine. Now please, leave me to my rest. I've a splitting headache and I know not if it comes from you or the voices." With the pact forged you leave the isles of madness, unsure if you made the right decision, but knowing the only path now is forward, bearing the weight of your choice.



A pact with Sheogorath is forged. The two of you will now work together and may make requests of the other (this wont cost an action). This can be to do an action on the others behalf, give their aid to an action, or to do whatever else it may be that you require. This goes both ways. As a part of the pact Sheo returns to you your sword and the grove of reflection. the grove comes with the tree of shades, which will start growing in Mytheria.

---

You lock yourself away in your writing chamber for some time after making the pact. You focus, solely on your writing and deductions, writing them down. You still only have a small frame of reference of the events that happened in your absence, but it will have to do. Time has little meaning in oblivion, but you write for months without end or interruption, looking at every variable you know to begin writing your chronicle. Every event, from every child born, to every man killed, to every flap of a Butterflys wings is recorded, their results listed, the odds weighed. The only writings with perhaps more information, the only ones capable of surpassing your wisdom, are the Elder Scrolls themselves, but yours don't cause the deterioration of the mind.

So far you are able to write your catalogue of the late Merithic era and its results on current events. You also are able to take stock of some of the major changes following your maddening. Firstly, the creation of a new prince, Malacath. Of course it was Boethiah that would do such a thing. Secondly, the dragon wars, you had wondered what had happened to them. The more you learn the more is revealed for you to learn about, but you have nothing but time.

+2% library progress.

---

Without Dyus there to guide them you had worried the cult may fall apart, but thankfully they've managed to stay intact, even grow some. While still not large enough for you to say there a major, or even minor, group within Winterhold, it has enough momentum that it should stay intact for some time without outside attempts to disrupt it. those guardsmen in the cult have managed to divert attention from the other guards away from them for the time being. Progress on a proper shrine to you has also come along well as they have managed to hire a sculptor to carve a sculpture on Rockjoint island. To be more appealing to the mortals you send unto them a visage of your mortal form you had used with Sheogorath. Better that than let them think of you as a monster as some of your kin revel in.

Of course, no progress can be made without new problems showing up. its not an immediate threat, but rather the threat posed by a recent trend among the mortals. Many knightly or holy orders have recently begun popping up through Nirn after your brothers failed attempts. The goals of many involve the hunting of Daedra and Daedra worshippers, though some also include the hunt of vampires, were beasts, liches, and other aberrations as part of their goals.

One such order has recently formed in Skyrim, the vigilant of Stendarr, and based some ways south in between Winterhold and Windhelm. Worse still is that their founding was funded by High King Harold Tallowhand, meaning not only do they have governmental support but far more wealth than your cult. They will need to be quiet in the coming months, but thankfully they have little interest in Winterhold at this time, and anybody they do send is more interested in the college than the poorer districts. Still, better to be safe than sorry, and you grant the crystals bearing your knights to Lirwaen Undriel, and she hands all but one of the crystals to your followers in the hopes they will not need them.

---

With the pact with Sheo you can have him do an action for you, still rolling for it of course, or give +25 to a roll

What shall you do in Nirn? Choose one

[] The blessing of the Ice Elves: with the falmer now giving you their worship, you can begint he work to revert their forms to what they had been before their curse. It will not be simple, as your previous attempts to craft a blessing have proved, but the rewards far outweigh the challenge. DC85

[] Seek out a champion. There are those among the mortals who realize the need for order. Seek one out to act as your agent, to go and do what dyus cannot. Recruiting them may prove challenging, especially without an artifact to tempt them and offer in exchange. DC60

+20 to the roll if you offer an artifact

[] The gifts of man: many artifacts already litter the lands of Skyrim, one needs only look. Of course, looking doesn't mean you would have the artifact for yourself, you would still need to send someone to collect it, but if you could find something you could imbue with your will, spreading your influence would be all the easier.DC80

-the higher the roll the better the item you find.

[] A Gods Blessing. The mortals are an ever predictable lot. While some will follow you for your ideals, others need a nudge of incentive. Craft a blessing that Dyus might weave into a shrine to you to attract followers. DC55

-[] what shall your blessing do?

[] write in. up to qm discretion

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What shall you do in oblivion?

[] Conquest. While your power is diminished, it would not be impossible to find some corner of oblivion held by a weaker Daedra for you to take for yourself. So long as you don't make too much noise, none would assume you were there. DC60

[] seek out subjects. Daedra are inherently creatures of chaos, but many value strength over ideals. Convince them of your strength, and they will follow. DC70

[] Seek out the other planes. Many are the planes of oblivion, and many are their occupants. You know enough of your kin to know where to avoid, so you could find allies or a realm ripe for the taking. DC70

-the higher the roll, the better plane you find

[] Find allies. without the might you once had, you need allies so that you might not be blindsided. seek others out so you might make an alliance.
-[]who will you seek an alliance with? different daedra will have different dcs, and you need to seek specific Daedra

[] diplomatic efforts: friends and allies can be difficult to keep, so better to maintain contact so that relations don't break down.

-[] who will you try to improve your relationship with.

[] Write in. up to qm discretion

---

What shall you do in your realm?

[] Creation. more artifacts are always useful. You could use some of your remaining power to make something of crystal that you could send unto the planet. Dc75

-[] what shall you make, and what shall it do? Up to qm if your idea would be allowed/ if its too strong

[] Rebuild your library. Once your library rivaled that of Hermeus mora, you imagine it's the reason he played a part in your downfall. Now you would rebuild it. Gather what tomes you can find in oblivion, and begin the calulations of the future as you once had. Dc 60

[] The crystalline Host. With but 8 knights remaining in your service, you need more to serve you. while it takes a follower with a soul to create a true knight, you may be able to create something lesser that could still serve your purposes. DC70


[] The garden of order: in days long past this tree was different. From it grew the roots that bound your realm together, strengthening it and yourself. Now it is shriveled, shrunken, sad, a reflection of what your realm had become. It will be a long time before it can once again scratch the firmament, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't tend to it. Dc35


[] Write in. up to qm discretion

Sheogorath, Daedric prince of madness

Relationship: cold

Titles: the hero of kvatch, the gentleman with a cane

Followers: madmen, artists

Domains: madness, creativity

Subdomains: art, the mind

Traits: Hero of two world. before he was sheogorath, they were the hero of cyrodil. the various pre dragonbreak heroes traveled the whole of it, meeting its peoples and learning from them. Sheogorath gains a +15 bonus to any interactions with the mortals.

Madness beyond Madness. Sheogorath is yet cursed with many minds from his time as heroes, not to mention the fact he is unexperienced as a god. sheogorath suffers a -10 to all rolls involving his godly nature.

Artifacts: the wabbajack

A hero who took on the mantle of the god you once were. Where you can trust him is to be seen, but you each need the others help