With howling fury, the were-thing blinded itself trying to pluck away the nuisance. Sheogorath looked on, quietly mirthful, as the diminutive creature picked at a bit of detritus caught in scales betwixt the fiery eyes of the larger beast. The tiny bird lightly hopped along the snout of the furious Daedroth. Thinking itself victorious, the monster's bloodied maw curled into a mock grin, when a subdued song drifted in the crisp air. In a twisted, springing heap, the Daedroth was upon the stone, leaving only rubble where the boulder had been. Demurely it chirped in the bristling gusts, scarcely audible. Doffing his cap, sly as ever, Sheogorath stood and stepped aside to reveal a tiny, colorful bird perched atop the stone. The Prince of the Hunt struck his spear to the ground, bringing forth his unnatural, snarling behemoth. In the third year, on the given day, Hircine returned, where Sheogorath leaned, cross-legged on a stone, whistling with idle patience. Of pitch heart and jagged fang, the unspeakable horror had no peer, even among the great hunters of Hircine's sphere. An ancient Daedroth he summoned, and imbued it with the foul curse of lycanthropy. Expressionless behind his fearsome countenance, Hircine agreed, and with naught but a dusting of snow in the drift, the Princes were gone to their realms.Ĭonfident, but knowing Sheogorath for a trickster, Hircine secretly bred an abomination in his hidden realm. Without haste, the coy Prince proffered his contest each Prince was to groom a beast to meet at this place again, three years to the hour, and do fatal battle. So it was that Sheogorath had set a stage on which to play himself as rival to Hircine. The Mad Prince will ply profitless bargains and promote senseless bloodshed for nothing more than the joy of another's confusion, tragedy, or rage. Wry without equal, Sheogorath holds in his realm giggling loons, flamboyant auteurs, and craven mutilators. The Huntsman God materialized, for this was his day, and the boldness of Sheogorath intrigued him. Ever proud and boastful, Oblivion's Mad Prince stood one fifth day of mid year among the frigid peaks of Skyrim, and beckoned forth Hircine for parlay.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorCraig ArchivesCategories |