Lord of Order

The progress the Falmer have made on their own has been impressive, advancing from their more primitive states underground to something resembling early Merithic civilizations, with simple but sturdy permanent housing, basic agriculture, and basic smithing. Unfortunately, that era was over five millennia ago, and to reveal themselves as a resurgent people now would make them easy prey for their various neighbors. Bretons seeking to form new petty kingdoms, Reachmen for new sacrifices to your brother princes, and the Nords and Redguards to test their prowess. So, you will aid them as you have before.
When the leaders among their small community, shamans and war masters, pray to you, you order them to send some few among them, those clever enough to learn and to lie, out into the surrounding world. They are to dress in cloaks that can hide most of their form, take what goods they can trade for coin, and find their way into the services of anyone with sufficient skills. Blacksmiths within the orcs, tanners and weavers of the Bretons, woodworkers of the nords, masons from the redguards, any possible thing that can aid them in the advancement of their people.
"Aren't you forgetting something though?" There's only one person that can be, but you do not recall inviting them. You turn from where you had been sending your commands to find Sheogorath, lounged on a chair he must have brought with him, a long coat being held in the hands of one of your pawns who also looks somewhat confused. You take in a deep breath before addressing the madman. "And what, pray tell, is this unsolicited opinion of yours? What do I forget now?" With a snap of his fingers and a smirk on his face the chair he is sitting on begins to walk itself on legs now given life towards you.
He plans his hand on the small of your back, and through you you can feel him speak to your followers, using your voice. "Beyond the art of craft and industry, neither must these outriders of ours forget the arts of the arts. Music, painting, winemaking, sculpture, those things which make life worth living, worth savoring, for without them life becomes a mere trudge of solemn duty. Send them wider and further than those who seek the crafts, so they might get a true sense of the world at large and its beauty.
And, so that few question them, don't rely merely on nettle cloaks. While your skin is lighter and less lustrous than those elves of the sea, the Maomer have retreated from Tamriel for long years. If the outriders claimed them as kin few would know to question it for fact. Now go, choose those you think worthy and let them whet themselves upon the world and its trials." And with that he removes his hand from you, and you dispel the connection. "Always you focus on the practical, I begin to see more and more why you hated yourself so much. If they consume themselves with the pursuit of physical progress alone, they will stagnate like water in a puddle. You can thank me later."
And with that the 'outriders' of the snow elves set off to the far corners of the world seeking to bring home what secrets they can find, and they find many. Techniques from some orcish holds in the crags, Breton instruments and tailoring, alchemy of the high elves, they find and make notes of everything they discover and will soon bring it back home to teach and practice their new trades. By the end of the year, they already have a few of their own forges built, mines and quarries gathering materials, and music filling the air, typically wind and string instruments. While none can yet be considered true masters many still continue apprenticeships across the world, merely regarded as Maomer fleeing some political strife. Again, Sheogorath has given you helpful insight as their moods have vastly improved thanks to their introduction.
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You've been in this city for nearly a year now, Kasur Aurenon. Not a year straight of course, you go back to Tamriel roughly once a month to resupply, sell off what you've found, and catch up on local news. Gods, that travelling to a different plane has become so natural now is a strange feeling. Barely a year ago you were a prisoner, fated for execution or political scandal, before that a simple soldier.
The pawns still travel with you and have grown exceptionally well into their roles as a squadron. The other Daedra however have left, called away by their lord to some other task involving a sudden invasion of daedrats, whatever those are. You knew they weren't subservient to Jyggalag given the way they talked about him, to you, and to the pawns, but you never got the answer of who they served. They claimed it was vital information they couldn't let a lowly mortal know, but you imagine they mostly did it to annoy you, the pricks. Still, you believe you've actually made better progress without them than you did with their aid.
You found a settlement, though it was scarce more than a shanty town, inhabited by the former serfs of the city who claim they were called the tarnished. Now, however, they simply call themselves the rust, the unsightly damage of an abandoned machine. As they find themselves without the aid of a Daedric prince to allow them ease of travel in and out of the ruins they are determined to try and make something livable, if not pleasant, in what remains. For the past month you've been aiding them, clearing out hostile machine lifeforms, finding sources of food and water for them, even handling a few legal and domestic issues for them.
While you enjoy being of help to these people, your main pursuit in aiding them was aid in return as they claimed to know of a way inside the tower. With most of their problems resolved, the ones you could deal with of course, you approached their leader once more. "Sir Branam I once again must implore you, I need to know how to enter the tower. I know you may have your reasons but the aid I have given you must outweigh whatever qualms you may have at this point." You skip formalities, hoping it would add to the urgency and necessity of your request. Branam, an old and wiry Nord, turns towards you, a pipe made from a piece of broken piping in his hand, smoke from some mixture of a native moss mixed with oils rising from both ends.
His face twists into a frown, a bushy moustache hiding his mouth. "I've told you many times now boy, it ain't worth it telling ye. Ye'd just get yourself killed in some vile manner, and then whatever you release would come after us." You make no effort to hide your own frustration. "So you've said, many times, yet haven't I helped your people shore up their defenses? Helped them make spears and spike to defend your home, had them trained. No matter what else, even if you still dislike me, my work is owed something and I demand my answers as payment." The old Nord glares your way before turning away and taking a large puff from his pipe, muttering about your use of the words 'demand' and 'payment'.
You almost expect him to walk away once again, but instead he grabs a piece of parchment from a wall, a poster containing some of the lessons of Vivec, and turns it over, using a piece of charcoal to write and draw on it. He turns back to you and shoves the crumpled paper into your hands. "Follow the map, say the words. It'll open for ye. Hopefully whatever's in there takes ye so we won't have to hear you no more." And with that he spits a glob of stained phlegm at your feet.
You ignore his attempts to prod at you and whistle for the pawns to gather from their wanderings around the town. You had encouraged them to interact with the world and people around them more, hoping it might make them more human, as much as a Daedra can be. It had some results, they began to speak more fluently, less robotically. They had begun to show individual interests, some personal growth, though they still felt alien to you. they gather around, settling into formation.
You hold up the crude map Branam made for you. "Weve found our way in, steel yourselves and prepare. We have no idea what may be lurking inside, so treat every movement, every action, every word you speak with caution. Move out." They silently nod and begin to follow you on the long trek towards the tower.
No matter where you are on this world it dominates the horizon. You had made multiple attempts to gain entry before, but nowhere along tis base could you find anything resembling a door. Either the passageways that were here were destroyed and built over, or the pathways to them were hidden or removed. You hope that the words given to you by the old man work in opening whatever passage this is. Youd been there before, but there had been no passage you could find, merely smooth, polished black stone or metal, you weren't sure which it was.
It takes some days of constant marching to reach the promised entrance. Along the way you faced few threats, a handful of razer toothed fabricants the pawns held off with spear and shield, and a handful of flying creatures based off the extinct cliff racers of Vvardenfell. You could only hope these would follow their warm blooded brethren into that extinction. With only these small if annoying threats to worry about, you and your forces quickly arrive at the towers base, where you decide to pause for the day and give your patron an update.
You refuse to call him your master. The Daedra have time and time again proven themselves an unstable ally at best, and your faith shall only ever be in the divines. For all that fervor, however, you can't deny that without him you likely wouldn't be here today. You plant his sword into the false earth, from which his symbol forms and pale crystal grows. "Jyggalag, I believe I've found our entrance to this tower. I plan to enter in the morning once me and the pawns are rested." He's silent for a moment and you wonder if he's unable to reach you here, but eventually you hear his words though they sound distant.
"Good. I expect updates whenever and if ever you find something you deem worthy of note. If you find anything that may be of use, make sure you use it to its full potential. Wherever the core of this tower is, I believe you will find it close to the towers peak, as I can feel the strongest concentration of power there. Now, unless there's anything else of import I have other matters that demand my attention."
And with that the connection fades. He could have given you better advice, but no matter. You settle to sleep as the pawns keep guard, half of them resting. They didn't need sleep, not like mortals did, but they still needed time to recover from their exertions. You let the world fade away, allowing dreams and slumber to claim you, silent prayers to the divines made to protect you the coming day.
---
The words work. The wall of the tower breaks apart from where once there had been perfectly smooth wall, leading you and your pawns into a maze of brass and heat. A engineer you had known had once told you about the inner workings of the imperial palace they had once worked on, of how it was kept warm by pipes behind the walls filled with boiling water, and how he vowed to never go back inside for the terrible heat that made him feel like the flesh would melt from your bones. You imagine this isn't too different. You can only hope you wouldn't have to fight in this heat.
Beyond its warmth the tower is packed tight with machinery, most of it far beyond your knowledge, some resembling the clockwork the city is named for while the rest seems as much magic as it is machine. You wish you could've brought a scholar who may know more, but you doubt jyggalag would allow such a thing. You wrap a bit of cloth around your head to keep the sweat from your eyes and begin to march forwards followed single file through the cramped corridors as you begin your assent.
---
The lord of madness has been a sullen figure of late. Seemingly fallen into one of his bouts of dementia, muttering to himself day in and out. So, when he bursts into your fortress once again with a smile plastered on his face you immediately know you are about to be pestered for something. "We're going to Nirn!" you stare his way a moment. He says this as if you would be going to a festival of some kind.
"Why." not a question, a demand. "Because I am tired of the ongoings of that blasted court. Day in, day out, oh Sheogorath, we need someone new to lead the court of mania and dementia, we haven't had our masters since you killed them during the Greymarch. Not a one among them is worthy of leading either, none have the right combination of madness and usefulness to take the diadem or that hammer. Well, maybe bighead, but he's destined for greater things."
You put aside the small amalgamation of crystal you were working on and turn to him. "You realize a prince is not supposed to take a vacation, right? Our duties are constant and-" "And we aren't supposed to have any fun, and our rivals will not rest, and blah blah blah. Remember, I have the old mes memories, and that includes what he knew of you. Trust me, a break from whatever that thing is can only do you good. And, if you don't go with me, I'd be on Nirn, completely unsupervised." You close your eyes, trying to suppress the headache you know is going to come. "Where are we going."
---
Not long after the two of you find yourself in the imperial city, disguised as mortals. You notice that your normal form has changed slightly, the ears becoming slightly more pointed like one of the old Bretons, the pupils now pure white. A result of the Falmer worship you assume. Sheogorath still wears the guise of the gentleman with a cane, younger and more full of life. He leads you through the streets, telling you of the many adventures he had in them, from fighting graverobbers, finding and slaying a vampire hiding among its citizens, victories in the arena, and much more.
He takes you to various eateries, to mummer shows, shows you the house he had once owned, now converted into a museum of sorts dedicated to the oblivion crisis. He finds many of his old haunts, to the mages guild and the harbor where he was one the gray fox. You travel to the white gold tower, locked down as always while the council tries to run the empire.
You travel just outside the city and look upon the statue of the hero, something he hadn't been able to see, swept up into the shivering isles as they had been. For the mortals they might see one face, that they know the hero as, but for you and you imagine sheogorath that face shimmers, switching in-between the various lives that had come to be wrapped up in the lord of madness. There is a smile on his face, but you notice how it doesn't reach his eyes.
This little trip is somber afterwards as he leads you to the temple district. You can tell why he leads you there as you see stone wings reaching just above the walls of the city. Once inside you see the dragon at its center. The area has seen drastic reconstruction, tearing down the walls of the broken temple to make a plaza surrounding what remains of their last emperor Martin Septim. Flowers and tributes lay at the dragons feet as a preacher tells the story of the last emperor to onlookers.
The mad prince no longer smiles as he stares on at the dragon. He walks up the steps, past the preacher who begins to yell, and lays his hand on the dragons foot. He closes his eyes, muttering something that isn't yours to hear, before returning to your side. "Let's go. I've shown you what I wanted to and seen what I wanted to." It's with these words that he wanders off towards one of the gates, followed by the ranting preacher, looking to find somewhere he can return to oblivion unseen. You are curious what he came here for, to remember the life he lived, to see the life he could have had, or just to say goodbye, but given his somber nature afterwards you deem it best not to ask.
---
When you return you begin once more on your attempts at creating a lesser being to serve you. It would not be a full Daedra, more akin to a golem or an artificial Atronach. You mold the crystal, shaping it into a bipedal form roughly five ft tall and once more attempt to give it a spark of energy. It takes a moment, but eventually it begins to move, the sound of shifting glass coming from tis every movement. You think you have it for a moment as it seems to master basic movement, but it all falls apart when you order it to try and run towards the other end of the room. Literally as the leg snaps at the knee, sending the creature falling to the ground, the crystal that makes up its body shattering into thousands of tiny pieces. You order one of the pawns to sweep it up as you go back to the writing board.
---
The cult has hit something of a snag with its investigation into the brotherhood. Mostly from running into the legion's own investigation. Once they had heard of a dark brotherhood assassination they launched their own foray into uncovering the murderers as part of their attempt to keep the peace in Winterhold. The problem is that they don't want the guard getting in their way as they do so, blocking them out of any of their discoveries or any other info they stumble on. Needless to say, the guardsmen don't have the authority to breach the walls the legion has put up, putting a pause on their progress.
---
Thanks to the Falmer's recent surge in knowledge they've begun making their small town into something more. It's still no city of course, but their homes are growing beyond holes in the earth and now have the protection of walls around most of their land. The Blackreach Falmer have also been benefiting from their advancements, trading with the surface based cousins ore and gems they manage to dig up or take from old Dwemer mines. The only thing of worry is from the chantry, not because of Gelebors preaching, but because of the sense of power you can feel growing there as more of the reborn Falmer begin to worship their old gods alongside you.
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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 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. DC65

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

[] The college: while some among your cult are already members of the college of mages, if you could aid them in advancing further, to take on leading roles as Undriel almost had, they would increase their presence far more. Dc65

[] The guard: in finding the student who had committed the black sacrament your followers within the guard have risen in rank. If they could continue to do so and perhaps recruit others within the guard, you would have far greater influence within the city itself. Dc:75



[] write in. up to qm discretion

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What shall your champion do?

[] The exploration of the clock work city, Phase two: Kasur has found his way into this obsidian tower, now he merely needs to reach its peak in the search of something that would grant you control or something even greater. Dc 65

[] Hunt down the brotherhood, phase one: while the brotherhood exists all over Tamriel, you want them gone from at least Skyrim. Send your champion to snuff out their presence. Dc60

[/] Hunt for an artifact: There's many artifacts on Nirn unclaimed by any gods. Were you to discover one, you could send the champion to collect it. Dc55

-Needs an artifact to hunt

[] Investigate the Thalmor: you know that the Thalmor have plans that would cause chaos on Nirn, but their end goals still elude you. send your champion to investigate Alinor and disrupt their plans. Dc65

[] write in

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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 DC's, 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

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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 it's 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 calculations 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


[] Write in. up to qm discretion
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Sorry for this update being later than I would've liked. In my defense I was playing Baldur's gate