Skyrim: A Sorcerer's Tale

Chapter 409: Chapter XXIX: Meaty Literature Part Two, Fleshcrafted Bugaloo

Chapter 409: Chapter XXIX: Meaty Literature Part Two, Fleshcrafted Bugaloo



(Reyvin's POV)

There I was, in my study, sipping some delightful coffee while doing my utmost to make Edrassa's life uncomfortable as she tried to look confident in relaying to me her most recent progress in rebuilding the grand Dwemer forge we stol- appropriated.

That was of course, until suddenly messages began popping up on my OrbTM at great frequency, veritable essays thrown my way by Alor as he explained every single issue and discovery before him in exhaustive detail.

Something must have quite thoroughly shaken his confidence if he wanted to simply offload everything onto me like this but that kind of interrogation could wait for his return.

And then there was also the name he told me was written below the glassy corpse of a horned Dremora, one that was even now attempting to escape the grip of my mind which most definitely meant some form of Daedric fuckery.

It never would escape of course but the fact that it was still trying to was more than just a bit worrying.

Still, there were more important concerns to go over first, like planning on some curse- breaking once Alor returned so we could heal his missing hand that was struck by a Blade of Woe, or how to help him in locating Cicero's 'charge' without anyone noticing.

The latter took far greater precedent, something the snow elf understood thoroughly as I began sending him instructions for a sympathetic scrying ritual which should allow him to follow the connection between Cicero and the Night Mother to find the cursed corpse.

A small part of me suspected the creature had some way to escape its fate but a far greater part was already thinking on what I could use the void infused carcass.

'Make deathsticks.' Scorch immediately said while still lounging in my Magicka pool.

I immediately knew damn well to what he was referring to and muttered "Well, it would be funny at least."

Scorch chirped his agreement 'Fucking hilarious pops.'

"My lord?" Edrassa asked hesitantly.

Looking back up to the uncomfortable Dunmer I shook my head "Don't worry about it, just some inane ideas popping up in my mind."

Without bothering to wait for her response I returned to my OrbTMM

[Big D: So in short, use the ritual and follow it as far as you find reasonable. If you suspect an ambush I am fully expecting you to retreat, and if you have to choose between keeping the clown alive and letting him escape then you are allowed to remove the little bastard's head from his shoulders.]

[A-lore: As you wish. How long should we remain in the city once we get our hands on everything?]

[Big D: Since Hassildor was able to co-opt the city guard into his service and you brought a downright unreasonable amount of supplies with you you should only stay for a short while longer, a day or three just about. Best have our vampiric friend's forces do most of the heavy lifting so he can earn the trust of the people as he rebuilds.]

[A-lore: That is... probably wise.]

Could it be that things are worse than I expected? Perhaps a bit of interrogating would be in order.

[Big D: Something bothers you, Alor?]

There is a prolonged pause before I get his response.

[A-lore: I should have expected you would notice something. I lost twenty four of your

household guards in the fighting, most of them died during the assault on the keep itself but some were unlucky in the streets as well.]

Ah.

[Big D: Those are reasonable losses.]

A very long pause ensues.

[A-lore: Pardon me, my lord, but what?!]

breath "Thank you."

Don't worry, you will go back to hating me in a day or two.

Hours later, after I was finally done discussing things with my unofficial tonal apprentice, I

opened a secret passage in the back of my study, the stone brick wall splitting apart as I walked into the large hidden chamber filled to the brim with artifacts worthy of a small war.

And at the center of it all, atop a podium radiating power and funneling the same to its peak, stood a book. A familiar book in fact, a disgusting yellowish green thing with pulsating veins that seemed to move around its surface without rhyme or reason.

The fleshy book still looked as disgusting as ever, the soul within slowly awakening under my gaze after months upon months of slumber.

Without waiting overlong, I opened to the tome and wrote: A fair day to you, Ariovistus. Have you

slept well?

It was never a bad idea to be polite when you needed something from someone. There was a distinct delay in the soul before it began vibrating for the lack of a better word

and text began appearing atop the page: I greet you once more, Lord Dagoth. My sleep was indeed sound, thank you for asking.

A shame you slept for so long however. I write down, unable to hold myself back: Alduin has fallen already and we are now in Cyrodiil.

Once more the soul hesitated for a while before responding: Cyrodiil you say? Excellent! Have you been able to discover the great works and writings of Ariovistus Max yet?

I couldn't help but snort at the sudden enthusiasm: No, I am afraid not. Dealing with an empire

on the precipice of failure takes far too much time for one to engage in leisure reading.

I totally had the time but I wasn't about to admit to the book I completely forgot about his

supposed fame as a writer. Well, saying I forgot would be a lie, forgetting something that happened this year was a dubious prospect at best with my mental stats, classified as unimportant would be more fitting I suppose.

The book radiated sadness for a moment before it was all promptly buried below a sea of

bluster: But of course! One must indeed have priorities in their life and enjoying the art that is my work is a luxury that needs to be sampled with deliberation! How else would one understand my deep metaphors and hidden lessons?

His false confidence would have been endearing... if it wasn't so bloody sad. Throwing those useless thoughts into the tiny corner of my mind still reserved for anything

surpassing the most basic of morality, I began to write: I find myself in need of your assistance once again.

The book hummed: But of course my good sir! The great Ariovistus is as always at your service!

Nodding to myself I went on: You have told me that you spent an inordinate amount of time in Apocrypha studying all of the Daedra. My people have recently come into contact with a particular name that resonates in a certain way yet this is the first time I have heard of it.

The soul practically leapt into responding even before I was done writing: You, good sir, have

just piqued my curiosity most thoroughly!

Right, hopefully he would be able to tell me something about a name that I have not heard in either of my lives, or at least I don't think I ever did... best keep my expectations low just in case: Good. Now, Ariovistus, what can you tell me about Ithelia?

Might I perchance trouble you for a piece of energized sediment my good sir?

If you want to support me directly and get access to 30ish chapters in advance visit my

patreon page patreon.com/Rastislav156

If you want to discuss the story or just meme about join my discord server: https://discord.gg/NsDHGQpvsF