Skyrim: A Sorcerer's Tale

Chapter 411: Chapter XXXI: Sweet Mother



The house offers congratulations to Job Diff for their most wise ascension above the masses, the wisdom of their act shall only be matched by the expediency of their retirement from the minesTM

On a completely unrelated note, you will be happy to know that you have all been allotted an extra serving on today's lunch.

(General POV)

Consciousness returned slowly and in short bursts, his eyes were covered and his mouth gagged, only his hearing remained as he barely managed to identify the sounds of people talking, boots marching, and a carriage's wheels creaking.

A familiar carriage's weight he soon realized.

He tried to squirm and to escape but he soon found that he lacked his limbs and he could not even roll his way to freedom as he was still bound even with his newfound disability. Even his meager magic was bound by some infernal contraption, his captors took no chances with his potential escape.

Seeing no other way to act, he tried making some noise. At least that way he may be able to gather some information but all he received as thanks for making himself known was a pommel to the back of the head and the sweet release of oblivion.

Consciousness returned once again.

He felt the lack of fresh air on his skin and knew he was no longer on the road, and before he could try and think of a way to get himself out of this situation he heard voices.

"Crimson lightning you say?" An unfamiliar voice, resonant, powerful, and yet surprisingly melodious asked.

A familiar one responded "Indeed, my lord. Count Ferontius died in an instant when struck by it, we could do nothing to help him."

Cicero's mind raced as he started putting the pieces together.

"So that's what she meant by he said I better appreciate it." The voice of what he was certain was Reyvin Dagoth resounded with mirth "Sure made taking the city over easier." He scoffs "He'd probably justify it by saying he gave the little rebel a chance as well."

"I am guessing this is beyond my 'pay-grade'?" Cicero could practically hear the quotations as the pale elf asked in turn.

"Yup." Dagoth answered immediately "But we can talk about that later, it would seem our guest has finally decided to grace us with his presence."

Cicero wanted to curse his situation but before he was given even that much dignity he felt movement behind him and both his blindfold and gag were removed in an instant by a what looked to be a large metal hand judging by the shadow.

He did not bother focusing on that detail however, the figure currently staring down at him with an appreciatively murderous smile commanded all of his attention at the moment.

"Ah!" Reyvin Dagoth clapped his hands with false cheer "Cicero, right? I've been looking for you for a while." He leaned in, giving the clown man a full view of his face and threateningly glowing eyes.

Almost reflexively he tried worming his way out "Cicero is sure that this is some big misundersta-"

Before he could so much as twitch a gauntleted hand grabbed his lower jaw non too gently, Dagoth having appeared in front of him faster than he could see "Now see here Keeper." The elf spoke his false cheer completely gone "You will not waste any more of my time or else"

The clown felt his head being forcefully twisted, even his eyes being made to look in a certain direction as he was made to see the opened coffin of the Night Mother, a small flat circular piece of glass ringed with ebony floating above her.

Cicero was silent for a moment before he was struck with a wave of religious fury as he began cursing "Blaspheming cur!" He hissed "You are not worthy to lay your eye-" He felt the slap before he heard it, what was left of his body hitting the floor hard alongside the chair he was bound to.

Without any sound being made, the massive metal hand grabbed the chair and righted it, the creature behind the clown not even bothering to acknowledge his existence.

"Shut the fuck up you nugget." Dagoth scoffed disdainfully "The next time you say something unhelpful I will burn a bitch." The elf summoned a ball of golden fire far too close to the Night Mother, making it more than evident he was not joking.

Once more Cicero felt his anger surging but he managed to control himself, his duty as Keeper took priority over everything else "Very well." He said after a few moments, the truth of his situation ever so slowly sinking in "Cicero will listen."

"What were you doing in Skingrad?" The dark elf asked immediately, the two pale ones behind him looking quite curious as well.

Cicero considered just how much he wished to stretch the truth for a moment.

A moment too long as Dagoth cut in once again "Know that I will know if you lie." The threat underlining the 'assurance' quite obvious to all.

"A simple assassination, Cicero assures you." The clown spoke after a moment, his voice carrying a hint of helplessness "The only stipulation was that we not look into anything, simply kill the target and leave."

Dagoth rose an eyebrow, obviously knowing something Cicero did not "And who hired you for

it?"

"Cicero does not know." The clown would have shrugged if he still had arms for it, he made do with only his shoulders "A proxy was used, Cicero was most confused when the messenger slit her own throat after giving him the full payment upfront."

The elf frowned but evidently did hear the truth of the clown's words as he shook his head in

annoyance.

"Cicero has a question." The clown spoke up, feeling bold.

Caught slightly off guard, Dagoth just shrugged "Sure."

"Why hunt down the Brotherhood?" The clown asked, keeping his seething fury well and truly masked "Cicero understands that we may be competitors but there was no need for such

animosity."

"Oh, that?" The elf asked with some amusement "I simply do not like you."

"What?" Was all the clown could muster in response.

Feeling a bit talkative, Dagoth chose to enlighten him "You were a bunch of murderhobos and

a death cult at that." He spread his arms as if that made everything make sense "That and you were hired to kill me, and I can't just forgive that."

"But why kidnap the Night Mother?" Cicero asked, honestly confused "Why go against fate and take the destined Listener from her path? Do you not fear the Void?"

"The void of death has nothing on the truth." The elf fired back immediately before frowning "What do you mean by the 'fated listener'?"

"The one you call Dragonborn." Cicero felt no need to conceal anything, the fate of him and his charge were fully in his captor's hands "She was to be the new Listener! The rebirth of the

Dark Bro-"

Once more, Cicero could do nothing as he felt the strike before he heard it, feeling his jaw break, his neck crack, and his spine utterly shatter as his back struck the distant wall, completely destroying the chair it was fastened to.

"What an absolutely disgusting thought." He barely heard the elf over the ringing in his head

"Scorch."

Cicero suddenly felt himself being healed, a great golden bird staring down at him with such disdain the elf's gaze looked downright friendly in comparison. The bird pointedly did not touch him as it healed him, contenting itself with grumbling about wastes of Magicka all the

while.

It took close to a full minute before Cicero turned truly coherent again, the pain now only screaming at him instead of outright deafening him as it did moments prior.

Noticing this, Dagoth lit his hand with golden flames again, moving it dangerously close to the Night Mother as the next question came "Tell me, clown, are you the last of your filthy order? Any more disgusting little apprentices running about?"

Cicero knew what would come next, and yet he could not struggle from his position.

In fact he found he could do nothing at all.

An odd scratching sensation began overtaking his mind as he felt himself compelled to speak, and only the truth at that "Y-y" He struggled to keep the words back but the scratching intensified manifold and he could resist no more.

"Yes!" He barked in both desperation and relief as he felt the force stop squeezing his brain.

Reyvin stared down at the clown for a long while, seemingly still present in the room even as he used every scrying spell he knew to confirm the clown's words. Finally he gave Cicero a rather warm smile "Good, it would seem you spoke the truth."

Without hesitation, Reyvin snapped his fingers and a massive purple magic circle lit up below the Night Mother, a loud resonating hum filling the air as it was charged with more Magicka than most people would interact with in lifetimes.

A loud, otherworldly screech of the vaguely feminine variety soon joined the humming noise, as the corpse opened its eyes and tried freeing itself from its current prison. Cicero would have been amazed by the development if he was not currently busy screaming his throat out as he lay every curse he could come up with at the filthy blasphemer, all reason left him as he understood the truth, he would be the final Keeper.

And yet even as he cursed his 'host' with each passing moment he felt the fog ever so slowly lift from his deranged mind, his deeds and actions slowly being twisted from the righteous exaltation they were before into the filth that they were in truth.

But he would not be given time to consider his life choices, he was undeserving of such.

"It seems that is all I will be getting out of your filthy mouth." Reyvin Dagoth scoffed as the Night Mother disintegrated and the smoke from her burning ashes surged into the glass circle hanging above her "Akulakhan."

Once more, Cicero felt himself being hoisted without a sound, a pair of large metal hands

holding him in a vice and not letting him wriggle an inch. All the clown assassin could do was

scream as what looked to be a black soul gem was shoved into his mouth and then ever so

slowly pushed into his brain.

(Reyvin's POV)

"Ugh" I hold back the urge to spit on the ground, depositing the filled soul gem onto a nearby

table "Finally got them all." I will admit that my inability to find the little shit for years had been a bit grating but now I could finally pat myself on the back for a job well done.

If you are going to make a religious order of assassins then at least don't make it a bloody death cult. Professionals have standards!

"To think I would once more stand before the making of history." Anondor spoke with genuine warmth in his tone, drawing me from my thoughts "The world is brighter without the Void's messenger."

"The Void is not so easily rid of." I told him after a moment's consideration, shaking my head as I did "I doubt this will be the last we saw of Sithis and its ilk, but we have certainly struck a

blow, never doubt that."

The two of us shared a nod and were probably going to continue yapping but Alor's surprised exclamation, a dark and distinctly malevolent wisp of smoke leaving his stump as he immediately downed a regeneration potion, his missing arm rapidly growing out as his robes followed after it, the wound disappearing as if it were never there.

"Lucky." I whistle "I thought we would need to make some contraption to replace your arm with how cursed the wound was but I suppose removing the source of it works too."

I of course was lying but looking at Alor's startled expression was definitely worth it as heNôv(el)B\\jnn

blanched.

"Maybe it would be wise to see if the enchantment process went well?" Alor makes a poor attempt at changing the topic "We wouldn't want any instabilities happening, right?" Lucky him that I preferred good loot to trolling him.

With a pep in my step I approached the now empty sarcophagus, the Night Mother missing in her rotten entirety as even the ashes were consumed in the enchanting process. Without a care in the world I stopped the temporary levitation ward and pulled the piece of

glass into my hand, the tiny little thing absolutely bursting with barley contained power, an ominous air surrounding it imperceptibly.

One would not need a grand mental capacity to realize what I was currently holding was a

monocle, and a rather finely made one at that, with the band of ebony glowing with tiny

purple etchings while the glass was not in fact glass anymore but a swirling see-through shadow.

You see, when Alor first returned with his band I spent a good chunk of the day considering

the implications of using the Void's messenger for something but then I realized I've already

done more than enough to offend dear ole' Sithis and if he was going to come for me he would have done so ages ago.

And the Night Mother was far, far too useful to just ignore as a potential ingredient in my work. Part of me was quite tempted to just go balls to the wall and listen to Scorch's suggestion and just make some mad deathsticks but the Night Mother's prophetic capabilities were too useful to waste on something so wasteful if admittedly quite funny.

No, instead of doing that I chose to make a tool, a perfect aid to murdering the shit out of

someone or something when the need arose. I admit, the monocle was a suboptimal choice as her powers were more directed at 'speaking' to her 'listeners' but quite frankly I preferred not

having shadowy murderous voices invading my mind while I was trying to kill something. And so I came up with a rather dignified alternative, if I did say so myself.

[Void's Blink: Even while chained, the Void desires to slay and destroy all. Reveals the weakest points, anything from physical to outright conceptual, granting the bearer the chance to strike down anything with enough preparation.]

I could not help but smirk as I attached the monocle to a fine chain and placed it in a new

pocket within my robe, fitting it snugly within as its energies settled and awaited further use.

One more step toward ensuring ultimate victory.

A stone for our poor nugget!

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