Skyrim: A Sorcerer's Tale

Chapter 339: Chapter LXV: Literatureception



A harsh mountain wind whipped around the small bubble of still air surrounding me as I leisurely traipsed my way across winding goat trails up the easternmost section of the

Druadach mountain range known to the Nords as the Lone Mountain.

An annoyingly familiar but yet unidentifiable song came to mind as I kept attempting to hum the melody and remember the ending of it but kept forgetting the damn thing every single bloody time.

Scowling at the little earworm, or was it mindworm at this point? I pulled out the soul- carrying grimoire and flipped it open, flicking a quill into my hand and summoning some ink for it I began scribbling upon the fleshy pages on a whim: Alright then, mister seeker, care to introduce yourself?

A few seconds pass before the ink morphs into a new string of artistical calligraphy: A seeker I am no longer.

'Well now, the whim just got promoted to a hunch!' I grin slightly and scribble: Semantics. What I am curious about is why exactly would a soul lost to Mr. Tentacles decided to sacrifice a vast portion of their being and turn themselves into a barely readable storybook.

The ink moved almost furiously as the seeker soul made its reply: I will have you know my work is that of a true master! Why, when I was yet a man nobles from all over Colovia competed to get their hands on my works!

'So he was Colovian then' Good thing he couldn't really see my smug smirk, I cupped my chin and hummed for a moment before scribbling down a response: There were too many thees and thous and not enough characterization, your work was more of a proclamation than it was an actual engaging story.

If books were capable of expression what came next would have no doubt been accompanied by a huff and a pout: A man literally puts his heart and soul into something and you are so heartless as to criticize it?! I see now that the deceiver may not have been the worst sort I could find.

I snort and write: A bit uncalled for to go that far but fair enough. Now, introductions? Very well you uncultured swine, I am Ariovistus Max, playwright and storyteller extraordinaire! Cheated by that vile monstrosity some idiots call a god of knowledge into protecting its collection. 'Uncultured?!' My eye twitches violently as I overcharge my clairvoyance through my soul and my hand moves in a blur: You got baited by a storybook, didn't you?

What?! How did you kno- The ink stops and twitches into a new form: I am certain I have no idea what you are talking about! The soul radiates a contemptuous 'Hmph!' as it finishes writing.

I simply stare at the book smugly, this time transmitting what an uncreative child might name as 'Smugness intent'

Well... The words scratch out awkwardly: I may have been rather... foolish in my younger days. But I outwitted that vile demon and took my freedom! You yourself have seen it, have you not?

I raise an eyebrow: And how exactly were you aware of the properties of my sword? Enough to somehow manipulate me into stabbing you with it?

The vile Daedra who had imprisoned may not have been terribly generous with information but I assure you it is not quite so foolish as to not equip me for the task it enforced upon my shoulders.

'Annoying.' I tsk in irritation and write: Then I must praise you for your ingenuity if anything, not may of your... 'kin' are known to retain their minds save to gather information and serve the creature.

Yes, I can already feel your irritation with the vile thing's knowledge. Sadly it is first and foremost an observer and gatherer of information and any use of your weaponry would have likely caught its attention, not to mention your open defiance of it in the old deep elven forge.

My face twists into a scowl You have my thanks for the warning.

It is my genuine pleasure, my good sir! Ariovistus cheers Though I have to ask how come you created such a mighty blade? It is not a weapon I knew existed even when I was yet a mortal man.

I simply shrug and scribble: It was once Dawnbreaker. I usurped it.

... Usurped? If it had a mouth the book would be gaping, though the surprise is swiftly replaced with schadenfreude as it realized the implications: Marvelous my good sir, simply marvelous! May I be graced with your name? I am afraid that all the information I was given was as basic as "Defier" and "Blasphemer"... which is rather fitting now that I give it some thought.

Lord Reyvin Dagoth, Court Mage of Skyrim.

An honor to meet you your lordship! The book immediately forms the words but then pauses before almost hesitantly shifting into: I guess it is finally time we discussed my future? Your actions were rather vague since I have changed forms and while I am not truly capable of it in truth I am getting a bit stressed waiting.

I snort and scribble: We really should get to it, but do not worry about me taking your free will. This form of yours... amuses me. And for your failure to truly plan things out the sheer audacity of your rebellion does fit quite well with my own penchant for defying those who would see us as toys. Most gracious, my good sir! Ariovistus practically vibrates in my grip: But I am afraid that I must offer at least something in return for your aid... and hopefully your protection? He adds hesitantly. I will keep you away from the creature out of sheer spite but I could use some information you may or may not have managed to acquire during your tenure inside of Apocrypha.

The book hums and suddenly flips onto another section, showing seventeen miniature portrait-styled images with names marked down next to them, namely the seventeen Daedric

Princes.

You will be pleased to know, my lord, that my research has been mostly focused on the Princes themselves and how they act upon Nirn and between each other. My plan of escape, lacking as it was, was one necessitating a thoroughly deep education in all matters of Oblivion, from politics to strategies! Had he a head and a hat he would no doubt be giving me a flourishing bow And this knowledge, oh great mage, is at your disposal!

"Well now." I mutter in muted surprise Tell me everything you know about Mehrunes Dagon.

Ah! The vile Lord of Destruction and patron of Change and Revolution, a mighty creature indeed! A rather nasty penchant for invading these beautiful lands of ours, even moreso than his vile brothers and sisters...

Time flies as Ariovistus launches into one of the most thorough and thoroughly annoying lectures about a Daedra I have ever been blessed/cursed to have to sift through.

As I finish ascending the partially ruined stairs leading to the place my map marked as the Shrine of Mehrunes Dagon I blink in surprise at what I see. The statue was rent into chunks with only the head still being intact and laying flat bellow where the legs once were. The altar before it sundered in twain with only one half still standing, multiple skeletons in tattered and decaying Mythic Dawn-esque garb surrounding the whole scene.

Frowning at the not entirely unexpected development I snap my fingers "Care to explain what happened here?"

The ever enticing form of Mephys blinks and tilts her head before quirking an eyebrow "Cavorting with the likes of Dagon Reyvin? For shame!"

"Could use his fancy knife, that is all." I explain with a shrug, lazily summoning the three chunks of the Mehrunes' Razor and floating them above my open palm.

Mephala's flesh puppet pouts "You know you could have just given it to me. I could do all manner of things to it you know~" She purrs.

"I already pissed off enough Daedra. You damn well know this." I give her a flat stare "I really don't need another one baying for my blood so quickly after the last one."

She sniffs, her distaste obvious "I am not saying the idea is imprudent, merely the target of it." She stares into the severed head of the statue "Mehrunes is... not often reasonable."

My eyebrow quirks "Have beef with ole' four arms?"

"His fore arms are indeed quite beefy." She winks and immediately pouts as I deadpan, she exhales and crosses her arms "Fine! The little shit keeps rustling my carefully laid webs of plans and schemes whenever he can!" She scowls "Too controlling he says."

I snort "Awww, is someone angry their toys got broken?"

She narrows her eyes playfully "Whose side are you on here, Reyvin?"

"Mine." I say with a completely confident smirk.

"And that is what I adore so much about you~" She fake swoons before righting herself a few moments later "Now, why have you invited me here truly?"

"I want you to help me with the negotiations." I explain easily "Much less of a headache if I have your backing from the start."

She places her hands on my shoulders and leans her head on top of them "Are you sure Reyvin? Are you not afraid I am going to call in this debt later?" Her eyes turn hungry, and I

am swiftly reminded that I am indeed talking to a literal demon god here "Make you do

whatever I desire~?"

Then again I have never forgotten it to begin with, and thus I am left unshaken "Oh?" I raise eyebrow "And were you not the one constantly pouting at my lack of trust?"

"But maybe you are right not to trust me." She grins a toothy grin "Maybe your little bouts of paranoia are right and I am trying to weave a neat little web around you."

"Please don't tell me you get off on even that." I deadpan.

She starts breathing just a tad more heavily and tilts her head "Tehe~?"

A vein on my head begins to throb as I whack her with a scroll "Don't tehe me woman!"

She pretends to wince in pain and clutches at her head while pouting "So abusive." Naturally

this does not hide her suddenly even more excited aura.

I sigh "God fucking damn it."

She covers her giggle with a hand "Oh you are such a little baby." A smile splits her face "Very

well then, I will help you." A pause "But."

"And there it is." I deadpan.

She just grins at that and continues "You must take me to one of those mortal outings of

yours!"

If my face could have become dryer I would have probably joined Phineas in the ranks of the undead. Still, it wasn't like she was asking for my fucking soul so I just sigh and accept my fate

"Fine."

She squeals in delight and claps her hands "Excellent!"

"Yeah yeah" I grumble "Get behind me and I will get this whole thing started."

"Of course dear-" She singsongs and stands behind me.

'Right then, now how to go about this...' I ponder briefly before summoning the shards of the

razor before me and powering their aura with a bit of soul energy from Azura's star I make them radiate with Mehrunes' own destruction magic. All that is left then is to lay them atop the broken altar and wait.

"That should be enough." Mephala nods in approval "He has been rather quiet ever since dear

old Akatosh sent him kicking and screaming into the void of his realm but even he won't be

able to say no to this invitation."

"That is the idea." I hum "Now to manipulate the absentee fucker into giving me his power

without trading my soul for it."

"You have a plan, yes?" Mephala asks, brimming with curiosity.

I let out a noncommittal noise at that 'Something along those lines' Suddenly the soul energy I fed to the shards stops moving before rushing into the head of the

statue, its stone eyes flickering with malevolent red energies as the weakened Daedra made

its presence known.

Soon a four armed silhouette some six meters tall flickers into existence before me, a mere projection but still feeling quite dangerous to my senses as the promise of utter destruction scratches at my mind "Greetings... mortal." The scratchy and yet surprisingly patient voice of the god of destruction rumbles out.

'Now to throw this fucker off' I raise a hand and give him a lazy wave "Sup bitch?"

A complete and utter silence descends upon the shrine for a moment before Mephala bursts

into a fit of uncontrolled giggling.

Might I trouble you for a slice of stone?

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