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Skyrim: Plaything	By : GE_The_Beast Category: +A through F > Elder Scrolls - Skyrim Views: 21445 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This story is made for fun, profit and entertainment. In no way do I own anything discussed. I do not own Skyrim or The Elder Scrolls fandom in any way, nor do I intend any profit from this story.

Chapter List
- 13
- 14
- 15
Markarth was a city that smelled of metal. A constant stink of charcoal and steam, as you walked by the forges. Half the city looked like it was dedicated to the constant forging of metals, and the shouting of foremen and laborers. The other half were homes carved into the mountain and a bustling marketplace full of haggling nords and bretons. It was a loud place, and the ways through the city were twisting and hot. No matter the day, the city was warmer than the land around it. Steam and heat from bellows kept it warm.
A lot of people lived here, but Elayne only had a few ways to go for Eola. She knew that she had only one eye, and one ear was mangled. That should have been enough information to go on! And yet no one seemed to have information about a Breton woman with only one eye. No rewards for her capture, no signs of trouble. It was almost like she didn’t exist. But she was somewhere in this province!
Of course the guards had recognized the Dragonborn. Her mask kept her identity safe, for the most part. Her long dress was enough to conceal all of her ‘gifts’ from Captured Dreams, and her heels wrapped enough to conceal the anklets. Thankfully the entire city was made of stone. It was easy to walk in high heels in this place. She had the help of one of the Forsworn that came with her, Innea. She was wearing her own set of ill-fitting clothing, a dusty set of robes and boots.
“There used to be a tailor here.” Innea pointed at what was now a general store. “They had beautiful clothes and so many shoes.”
“Let’s split up for a time. I’m going to go to the palace, and you can try talking to some of the market sellers. The Dragonborn should at least respect the people at the palace. I have to make a showing of that. Maybe I’ll talk to Calcelmo. Meet up with me at the orc blacksmith in a couple of hours.” She had been selling gear all morning, the last of her Blackreach gear now just an orcish shield she was hoping to get a good price on.
Innea nodded, and they split up. She stepped into the palace of Markarth, feeling eyes on her blue hair all the while. The steward tried to offer her a task, apparently to resolve a mining dispute. She refused, citing Alduin as a major concern first and foremost. But in this place she didn’t dare mention Eola. When she finally got to Calcelmo, he and his nephew were hashing out details for something. But both heard her coming with those shoes of hers.
“Ah, I would recognize that sound anywhere.” Aicantar noted. “Dragonborn, a pleasure to see you.”
Calcelmo nodded. “Blackreach had some very unique architecture and designs. You’ve given me much to research.” His features softened. “And we are pleased to have been invited to your expedition. Though we lost a couple of men, we have brought back far more in terms of value.”
“Indeed!” Elayne spoke more excitedly. “Though we never got close to the city, I found what I needed in Blackreach. Something that the dwemer had been studying. I wanted to personally thank you and your nephew for helping me retrieve an Elder scroll.”
Calcelmo actually looked up from his books at that. Of course now he wanted the whole story! He and his nephew were both taking copious notes, and Calcelmo wanted to go back and see the tower it was taken from at some point. Though he also asked if she could return the elder scroll so he could see it functioning correctly. Elayne agreed, mostly because of the offer to pay her handsomely to do it. So she left his area with a lighter heart. People saying thank you always made her feel better.
She almost skipped back to the forges and Innea. She also looked like she had found something. “Well?” She asked, excited.
“I found something.” Innea smirked. Her face was covered in soot. “I heard a rumor that the halls of the dead are currently closed. The priest of Arkay has shut the doors.”
“Why is that important?”
“I think we should see why. The only other rumors in this town are about some witch hunter and an abandoned house.”
“Well, did you talk to the witch hunter?” Elayne asked.
“He’s a vigilant of Stendarr. Just standing outside the house. He just wanted to know if I had seen anyone coming or going.” Innea shrugged. “Looks like a weakling.”
“Then we might help him later.” Elayne declared. The weak could be helped by the strong. And those that were weak often could be strong elsewhere. “Let’s just go see about the halls of the dead.”
There were two ways in. One was by the palace, and featured guards a plenty. Elayne went the back way, next to the Hag’s Cure. There was hardly anyone around, and she crouched to better look at the dwarven tumblers in the door. Elayne must have broken a couple lockpicks before she got the doors open, and she and Innea stepped inside. A muffle spell kept her heeled shoes quiet, but the halls were very large. The dwarven metal had been tarnished by smoke from rituals and offerings over the ages. None of the braziers were lit, and nothing seemed well used.
“You look at the other exit, I’ll check the catacombs.” Elayne told Innea. The woman nodded, keeping one of the Forsworn bone daggers close at hand. Elayne herself didn’t draw her weapon, trusting that she was safe here. Her steps carried her towards the area that priests of Arkay prepared bodies for burial. Right away she saw what was the issue. Sections of a dead Nord had been carved away. It was completely similar to the carvings into Madanach’s dead body. “Found you.”
She heard something moving in the depths. The rush of air from something. “Not many would walk blindly into a crypt, smelling of steel and blood, but not fear.” Someone whispered.
“I know who you are.” Elayne interrupted what was likely some kind of speech. She might be buying time to think about killing her. “Eola. A name you chose for yourself. But it’s not your real name. Glooredhel.”
From the shadows, Eola stepped. She was wearing leather armor, very fine. Her skin was pale and gaunt, and annoyingly had bigger breasts than Elayne. Her good eye stared at her, the pale and wan left eye covered in scars. They were the same height, and similar in most other ways. “That is a very old name. One that has been forgotten.”
“I know who you worship, and how you do it.” Elayne glanced at the corpse. “But the woman I came for has a part to play. My name is Elayne. Or you might know me as the Dragonborn.”
“You don’t much look like a hero. That dress looks like a tent on you.” Eola smirked. “Do you share the desire to eat?” Her stomach roiled at the thought of eating another dead person.
“I do not share that desire.” Elayne said clearly. “But I need you. You are more than a worshipper of the Prince of Decay and Darkness. You have meaning beyond worship. And I have need of you.”
“Greater purpose?” Eola laughed. “You sound like a priest.”
“You look like you’ve lived all of your life in the darkness. A true worshipper of the Daedra. But I worship a different prince. One that prizes knowledge and secrets.” She winked at Eola, who seemed on guard. Anyone else would be, if someone came up and started talking like they already knew them. “I know you crave human flesh. It’s important to you. One man’s most of all.”
Eola was giving her every ounce of attention she could. “What?”
“The man who ruined your family. Who you crave most of all.” Elayne pressed on. “I know some of his darkest secrets. Especially the one that will burn the most.” She waited a moment before taking off her mask. This required a human touch. “I would help you steal his entire kingdom. Take everything and leave him with nothing. A far more lasting revenge than killing and eating his corpse. You would steal his dignity, his legacy and his honor in one smooth moment.”
Eola waited, her mouth open. It took a moment for her to stop staring. “Tell me more.”
Anything more was cut off by a scream. The scream of a woman carried through the catacombs. It wasn’t the kind of scream one wanted to hear, and it was cut off by something else. It meant, most likely that Innea was gone. “Forsworn! Forsworn in the Halls! Guards, guards! Cut them off!”
Elayne frowned, as she and Eola could hear the thundering of boots. “Got another way out of here?”
“Feel like hiding inside a coffin?” Eola joked quietly.
Elayne leaned forwards, and saw the true danger coming towards them. Not only guards were coming through, but the watchful gazes of Thalmor. They would know enough magic to see through any kind of invisibility spells. “Thalmor.” She whispered. “I have a way out, but you’re going to have to trust me.”
Eola gave a long stare with her good eye. “Better than my idea. I’ll trust you.”
Elayne reached into her bag and unfolded the wrapped book. Risking a candlelight spell, she could hear the boots thundering closer. “The skein is thin. Flesh reveals its secrets.” A guard’s helmet was coming around the corner when the entire world darkened. Eola was clutching her, and she still had no idea what prices the book was demanding anymore. The last time she had used it, the book didn’t place any kind of marker in her bag or items to show what it would cost.
Eola was taking deep breaths, shivering. “What was that? Where are they?”
“Congratulations.” Elayne whispered. “You’re an Oblivion Walker now.”
“Is this Oblivion?”
“Something like that. It’s not home. And in this place, people believe that you, and most every Breton in the Reach is dead.” Elayne warned. “We just need a way out of the city and use the book to go back.”
“They lock the gates at night.” Eola whispered. “I don’t hear the priest, so let’s move.”
“You’re a hard woman to find, you know that?” Elayne muttered, her heels clicking on the floor as they moved to the exit. “I knew about you, but not where to find you.”
When they opened the doors next to the Hag’s cure, Elayne could see the sun already had set. “They’re going to shut the gates. We need a place to lay low.” Elayne motioned to Eola, feeling the warmth of the city’s forges keeping it toasty even in the cold season. “We can’t risk sleeping here or the silver-blood inn.”
“I know a place.” Eola considered. “It’s cursed. But in a pinch, it’ll do.”
“Time doesn’t match between this part of Oblivion and Mundus. It’s faster here. So even if we move quickly, time won’t pass very quickly back in Mundus.” Down below them, she could see men and women walking around in outfits that would seem bizarre or indecent normally. But she knew better. Not a single woman in this town was wearing pants. Or long skirts for that matter. “This world is different. We need to change clothes.”
Eola looked out amongst the people. “You have something like that?”
For a moment she considered letting Eola wear her very own maid dress. But Elayne dashed that thought, realizing that it wouldn’t hide Eola’s identity. In fact, the only thing in here that might was her short skirted elven armor. It had a helmet, and Eola’s face could be hidden with that. That only left two options for Elayne to wear, neither of which brought her much comfort. “Here.” She offered the elven armor. “Let’s get inside the halls and change.”
“Afraid of being seen?” Eola chuckled. Still, the Breton came inside the halls and cast her own candlelight spell to light the area. “This armor is tiny.” Eola remarked, holding up the metallic fabric and moonstone to herself.
“Just strip down and put it on!” Elayne hissed, her own dress coming off. Her breastband she pulled off without concern, her small breasts and their hanging gems glittering in the light of the spell. Out of her bag, she pulled the thin backless dress out. The strips of linen only covered sections of the front of her torso, and just to be sure she took off her moonstone heels and slipped into her backup set. They matched the elven armor, after all.
Glancing over, she could see that Eola was still fully dressed. Her eyes were following every swaying motion of the soul gems on her body. “What are you waiting for?” Elayne hissed. “Strip!”
Eola moved quickly, blushing over something. The skimpy elven armor unfurled upon her body, coming to the upper thighs. She was still blushing over something when Elayne shoved the helmet over her head, and helped lace her feet into the heeled shoes. “Oh, these are nice!” Eola was a natural with them. It was like she could move on them without much learning. When they stepped out of the catacombs, it was a different pair of women. Eola looked like a warrior, and Elayne a slut. Shivering, she tapped her heel on the stone. “Show me the way.”
“Will the guards challenge us?” Eola asked.
“Let’s avoid them. Take a way through the tunnels to avoid their patrols. Where is this hiding place?”
“It’s in one of the houses in the nicer part of town.” Eola promised. “So the fastest way is to cross some of the bridges and go near the temple of Dibella. Or we go under it and through the warrens and up through the marketplace.”
“You know the city best. Especially at night.” Elayne admitted. She didn’t like coming here. “Lead on.”
Their heels clicked as they walked the stone steps, drawing eyes to them. Fortunately, the only person they had to pass was a single nord walking along the bridges, his clothing a stained tunic. As they passed, the Nord looked at Eola’s bare thighs and grinned. Elayne figured she was safe, and stepped by right on her tail. The Nord’s hand grabbed a handful of her ass and squeezed. She had a very large ass, but his hand could handle an entire cheek! His pinky slipped under her short skirt, running along the skin before she could step away. Flush with embarrassment, she tried to ignore it and keep walking. Women in this world had to be able to handle this kind of thing. Biting her lip, she walked a bit faster to stay right behind Eola.
The woman stopped in front of a doorway into the stone walls of Markarth that had no torches. A brand of the divines was on the door, but Eola brought out a key and opened it. They slipped inside, though it was for certain that the Nord saw them. Her bare legs were inside just as Eola shut the door, twisting the lock. “This place is cursed, but we can hide here long enough for time to catch up.” The other woman ran her hands down her sides, playing with the ends of her own tiny skirts. “How long would that be?”
Elayne caught her staring at her piercings as she made eye contact again. “Days. At least three days.”
“I’d rather not risk any more time here. I saw people getting pulled on leashes out there. What kind of world is this?”
“I don’t know the full details, but in this world there is slavery, debauchery, and an acceptance for indecency in public. You can have sex with anyone anywhere, it seems.” Elayne said that, noticing that Eola still was staring at the soul gems hanging from her nipples and navel. The thin linen did nothing to hide their shape. “Maybe we should loot the house, before we go back into the other world.”
She could see at least one bedroom. The fireplace seemed to have wood in it, but there was a lack of debris that seemed familiar. The walls had their value stripped from them, and as she walked around the house, it seemed that every bit of value had been taken from it. Her heels were leaving small tracks in the dust, and Elayne stopped searching. “He’s been here.” She stated.
“Who?” Eola had taken off the helmet, letting her hair fall freely.
“The other Dragonborn. He stripped the walls of enamel, like he did in all of the other places. We won’t find any loot to take.” She sat down on the dusty bed. “Come on, that just tells me that something was here, before he took it. Or he’s just that greedy.” Eola sat next to her, rubbing her ankles.
“I’ve hidden in this place before. It’s got food, a warm place to sleep. It used to belong to my family.” The other Breton whispered. “I was born here.”
“Well, do you put the food in the house?”
“No. The ghost does.” Eola shivered. “Or something. I don’t feel it now, but I can always feel it watching me. I don’t like sleeping here.”
“Well, we have a choice. We can stay here, and risk being found.” Eola was still not paying full attention to her, instead staring at her soul gems. “My face is up here.” Elayne chose to remind her.
“Oh!” Eola flushed. “Sorry, I’ve just never seen anything like that.”
“Every time I use this daedric artifact? I pay a price. Just as you will. It’s very helpful to step into another place and learn about what happened, but every time you do something will be added to you.”
“So the makeup isn’t your choice?” Eola chuckled.
“What makeup?”
“Yours! No wonder you wear a mask, if your eyes look like that.”
Elayne cast a candlelight spell, fully aware of Eola staring at the soul gems swaying. Into her bag she dug, grabbing the small hand mirror. Her fingers fumbled, and the small reflective sheen was angled towards her face. The headband had changed! It had two gems in the center now, instead of one! Two thin bands of moonstone wrapped around her ears, another layer of material keeping it in place upon her. But her eyes had completely changed. Not their shape, but there was dark makeup applied around them, emphasizing her face. It made her look exactly like a painted whore! Her lips and cheeks were left alone, but between the blue hair and eyeshadow she looked like a whore of Wayrest.
Taking a piece of fabric from her bag, she licked it and wiped at her eyes. The kohl came off, caking the fabric in black coloring. But she could see through the mirror that the black khol was simply reappearing on her face. Just like her blue hair, it was magically being restored. “Guess I’m wearing my mask.”
“What is this artifact?” Eola asked, finally glancing at something other than her breasts.
“It’s a black book. One of Hermaeus Mora’s artifacts, but Namira said that it was stolen. Or taken from another daedric prince. I don’t know more and haven’t found anyone in this province old enough to know. I know of one possible lead, but it’s in Solstheim or Morrowind. I can’t take months away just to take that chance.”
Eola nodded. “Namira has a ring. It sustains you, if you consume the flesh of others. Normally the human body refuses to do so. But I wore it for many years, until her sanctum was overrun by undead. She took it away from me, but my body is adapting poorly.”
“Well, where we are going, they eat a lot of nuts, dried fruit, and meat. And they’re going to like you. They think Daedra worshippers are the norm, and it’s part of how you’re going to beat Madanach.”
Eola finally looked at her eyes. “About that. Explain that to me.”
“Now that you know how this works and you’ve walked Oblivion with me, you’ll believe me when I tell you that I found out about your life. I saw where and how you died. Oh! And your house.” Elayne drew out the maid dress, holding it up. “You had been maimed even worse trying to kill Madanach. You lost your big toes.”
“That’s crippling.”
“It was. You agreed to wear a collar for the other Dragonborn. Be his uh,” Eola was deeply interested in this. Elayne couldn’t help herself and drew out the collar. “You became his slutty little live in maid. I think he brought back corpses for you to eat.”
Eola held it up, blushing. Between that and the dress, she looked slightly disbelieving. “I would never become something so weak.”
“You lost the ability to walk without support. You couldn’t pivot or fight anymore. After travelling with him for a year, and being his lover you eventually capitulated and accepted.”
Eola frowned. “Alright, I can accept it as a possibility.” Elayne took the collar out of her hands, along with the maid dress and shoved them back into her bag. “Hey, those are mine, right?”
“You put those on and you might not be able to take them off.” Elayne warned. “I had to wear that maid dress for three days before we could pick the locks.”
“You wore that?” She smiled. “Okay, story for another time. Tell me how Madanach died here.”
“You tracked him down, at the border to High Rock. The last of the Forsworn were dragged back to your home here in the Reach where you enjoyed the last of them as food, before dying from Madanach poisoning his own flesh. Or rather, you were punished for consuming the flesh of your own kin.”
“Namira doesn’t like that, no.” She admitted. “But I only started worshipping Namira after my mother died.”
Elayne folded her arms. “I obtained a genealogical record of your family. Your father’s family.”
“Not even I know who my father is.” Eola insisted. “My mother said it was just someone she met once.”
“She lied. Your father and mother were not married, but they did have a relationship. I confirmed it with his advisors that survived amongst the Forsworn. Between a genealogical record, proof from this world, and the journal of the one who killed you I know that Madanach is your father.”
Eola frowned. “No. My mother would have told me!”
“You’re his only surviving child. Namira told me this.” Eola would doubt her word, but the word of her Daedric Prince? “I had to eat some of Madanach to get that answer. Which, ugh.” Elayne was still grossed out by that fact. “He had been dead for months, looked like a Draugr.”
“So what if it is true?” Eola spat, angry.
“Then you can steal it. The most perfect vengeance you can take is to leave him with nothing but the necessity of crawling to your feet and begging for mercy.” Elayne pointed out. Every Breton raised in High Rock was raised on tales of violent bloody succession. “As his only child, you can steal his throne right from under him. But that involves some sacrifice on your part.”
“Of course it would.”
“Do you think I haven’t sacrificed? To become the Dragonborn, to fight the dragons and divines-know what else?” Elayne bellowed, angry. Eola shrank under her words. “Yes, you’ve been maimed. Yes, I know you’ve lost a lot of one of your ears. Lost favor with Namira.” The last stung, but she had to say it. “So don’t get your smalls in a twist when I tell you that you’re going to have to change. Living on scraps in the halls of the dead as your body slowly rots away was a very nice life, wasn’t it.” It wasn’t a question. Eola just stared at the floor. Elayne softened her tone, sighing. “So please listen to what I have to say. I am taking steps to ensure that the world is going to survive. You’re part of that, at least.”
“Speak your peace.” Eola offered, quietly. At least she was listening. “But don’t expect some gracious noble to appear out of nowhere.”
“I don’t want a noble.” Elayne clarified. “I want a warrior-priestess with one eye and enough rage to temper the rage of an entire people. You’re a princess of a kingdom that has risen and fallen a dozen times over the last two eras. Going back to Ard Caddach and the Longhouse Emperors. You’re the end of that line. A line of Bretons known for their rage, anger and defiance.”
“So, I don’t have to wear some prissy outfit and play nice with the Nords?”
“Oh you’ll have to play nice. I’m half Forsworn too, so you’re technically my princess. As are a couple of families in Wayrest on my father’s side. You inherit an entire civil conflict going back thousands of years.” Eola closed her eyes, thinking hard. “You’ve got a lot on your plate, but I have some good news.”
“Pray tell what is this good news?”
“The Forsworn venerate Namira greatly. A Warrior-princess who wore the Ring of Namira? I don’t think they could refuse you.”
Eola paced around the room, skewing her eyes in thought. Elayne was content to wait, shivering in the cold house. There was a large draft coming from somewhere, but right now it was important to wait for her reply. “I don’t like the idea of people knowing who I am. Or calling me by my birth name!” She spoke that loudly. “I promise to at least meet and talk. See if you’re telling the truth.”
“Alright.” Elayne nodded. “Then let’s see the price we pay for walking through Oblivion.”
“Wait.” Eola interrupted. “This corpse is new.”
“Corpse?” Elayne boggled, as both of them cast Candlelight into the next room. A man had been killed there, his body nailed to the wall. “Oh he was tortured.” The bones looked broken by means other than weapons.
“I don’t want to be here anymore.” Eola announced. “Let’s go back to our world.” She pointed at the pelvis, which looked like it had been ground down to nothing.
Elayne drew out Captured Dreams, the rune glowing differently this time. Every other time she had used it the rune had glowed a white color. This time it was a blue, and she wondered what kind of portent that was. “The price will appear as we travel. If you’re already wearing something it would replace, it might just lose it.”
“What does that mean?”
Elayne sighed, tugging at her dress. “I lost an entire set of Elven armor once. I won’t be losing my backup set. Take it off.”
“Every time you use this, you do it in your smallclothes?”
“Elven armor is expensive!” Elayne hissed. “You can wear your armor if you want, but I’m doing this in things I can afford to lose.” Like a breastband and smalls. Eola handed back her armor and heeled shoes, slipping on her armor just to be a bitch about it. When they both were ready, Elayne and Eola pressed the symbol at the same time.
The world spun, brightening as the world shifted. The bed lost its dust, and the candles were lit. The smells of fresh bread filled the house, and it was warm from the light of the fire. Elayne could feel the warmth roll over her, the soul gems swinging freely. “Ahh!” Eola shrieked. Elayne smirked knowingly, already having guessed what happened. She lost another set of smallclothes to the book, but Eola lost everything. The woman was standing naked, jumping around and panicking. “My daggers!”
Elayne didn’t bother saying ‘i told you so’. She just checked her bag, running her hands over herself. She didn’t see anything new, but the book wasn’t the type to leave her alone. Eola had something wrapped around her waist, but Elayne would care about that in a minute. Her hand mirror came out, and she looked at her face.
The headband had expanded yet again. Now it extended moonstone in the shape of elfin ears off of her own. They glittered, looking large. Worse, long spars of metal extended from the moonstone around her ears to follow her cheekbones. They went halfway to her nose, and looked nothing like any kind of gear she had ever seen. Her mouth looked different. The shape of it, at least. Perhaps the color, too.
Rubbing her hand on them, a bit of color came off. Just like her eyes, some kind of effect was making up her lips now. Making them artificially another color. A deep red color, though the shape of her lips looked more like a pout when she put them together. “I won’t be able to show my face to anyone.” Elayne muttered, as she heard some kind of bell ringing. The source of the noise was Eola, who was frantically pulling on a spare set of smallclothes. “What happened to you?”
“That book took everything from me!” Eola called, wrapping a breastband about herself. “My weapons, my journals, my bag, and my armor!” Elayne realized that the woman was digging amongst the smallclothes she had stolen from her other self. No hard feelings, there. She took longer to find another set for herself. Eola had no worldly possessions of her own, since the book took so much. Odd, that it happened that way. It was kind of nice to see someone else suffering for the daedric artifact.
“I warned you.” Elayne whispered. “I warned you that the book would pay a price.”
“Now I’ve got nothing! Except this ungodly bell!” Eola turned to face her, letting Elayne see that her navel had also been pierced. A thin ebony and malachite chain wrapped around her waist, all returning to a large piercing that had a small glass bell attached. The little bell chimed quietly, but at a high pitch every time she moved. “Aren’t you going to help me?”
“I’m already helping you. You aren’t dead.” Elayne pointed out. “That Thalmor was probably using a Detect Life spell, so you were probably going to die if I didn’t get you out of there. One of your future subjects did die for you, letting us know they were coming.” Innea gave her life for this. “That is, of course if you’re still interested in being a warrior-priestess princess.”
“Well, yes.” Eola admitted. “Where did you get these smallclothes? They’re silk!”
“Your house.” Elayne laughed, goodnaturedly. “Want a dress, too?”
“I’m sure there are some things in here I can use.” Eola motioned to the rest of the house. “Come on, it’s only slightly cursed.”
“Cursed by what?”
There was a thump as a door opened somewhere. Angry yelling was carrying through the house, and both women flushed red. They had smallclothes and little else. “Hide!” Eola whispered, rolling under the bed. Elayne just quietly grabbed her elven armor, rolling the moonstone armor and fabric down her body. Following that, she pulled on her dragon priest mask. Her feet ached to be in her heeled shoes, but she just didn’t have the time. She handed a dagger to Eola, and then listened for the rest of the house.
“Stendarr bless me, I just heard noises!” A panicky man said.
“Be calm, Vigilant. You hired someone to come with you.” A gravely voice replied. “I’m here to put down your poltergeist once you find it.”
Elayne bit her lip, listening. There were two sets of boots in the front room, just feet from them. “This isn’t a poltergeist!” The first voice, the vigilant screamed. “Did you lock the door?”
“I barely touched the door. You must have locked it!” Both men seemed on edge.
“I’m the one with the key!” The Vigilant bellowed. “But, where is it! I swear it was just in my pocket. You must have taken it!”
“I didn’t take anything, you crazy-”
“Shut up!”
“You shut up! I outta-”
Elayne leaned around the corner, casting a frenzy spell. It really didn’t matter who she hit. But immediately, both men screamed and started trying to kill one another. She really didn’t have to. Eola stepped up from behind her, throwing lightning bolts and firebolts into both men, hammering their forms until they both went down. “Namira blesses us.” She walked forwards, bell tinkling as she came over the bodies. “Now we must find his key, and we can leave.”
Elayne cast a candlelight spell, seeing that the men were at least familiar. Vorstag was a familiar face from the inn, a mercenary for hire. The other man wasn’t so familiar, but he was wearing the robes of a Vigilant. Perhaps the one Innea was speaking of. Both women were checking the bodies, but neither had the key. “How hard is it to break out of these doors by hand?”
“We would be better off using spells.” Eola insisted. “And that might be years. These doors have stood for centuries.”
“Well.” Elayne muttered. “I don’t know what is keeping us in here. The door seems to be magically enhanced in some way. It’s sealed.”
“It won’t open until you offer homage. Step deeper, thieves. You have something that belongs to something infinitely your greater.” A voice rolled from deeper in the house. “Both of you are thieves! Come down to the shrine, worms. Come and beg!”
Elayne shivered, the arches of her feet aching. All went quiet, but she knew the door was sealed shut. Shuddering, she ignored the bodies on the floor and sat in one of the chairs, pulling out her heeled moonstone shoes. Her feet immediately felt better once they were in them, and she finished wrapping the shoes up her leg as Eola dug through containers in all of the rooms. The Breton finally returned when she was finished lacing up her heels. All she had found was a pair of large boots, flopping on her feet. “That was a daedric prince.” Elayne pointed out.
“I’ve heard Namira’s voice often enough.” Eola spat. “This is worse. And I can’t find anything but boots in here.”
Elayne felt the soul gems vibrate, her nipples radiating feeling. ‘Make her your slave. Soon she will bear a collar with your name upon it.’ Gasping for breath, she came back to the room around them, seeing Eola looking in kitchen cupboards for clothing or weapons. ‘It will either be you or her, Thief of my skin.’ Every word was enunciated with vibrations, and Elayne was left a shuddering mess in the chair she was sitting in. Elayne tried to make sense of things, but Eola returned before she could winnow out what exactly she was dealing with.
“Got any spare armor in that bag of yours?” The other Breton shivered. “We might have to fight.”
“No.” Elayne answered. “Not unless you want to be hung from a lamppost. I have a set of Forsworn armor in the bag.” Eola looked like she was going to consider it. “You’ll get your own soon. Here, put this on.” She threw the maid dress at her, and drew out the small heels she had gotten from Belethor. “Shoes that fit?”
“My friends owns the general store. Once we are out of here, we can get some spare gear.” Eola assured, pulling the maid dress over her body. She didn’t lock it, but her smallclothes were clearly pressed on through the tight fabric. Eola was looking very uncomfortable, as she sat down in a nearby chair to slip the heels onto her feet. “Thank you.” She whispered, looking over herself.
“Don’t worry, I’ve dealt with Daedric Princes before.” Elayne promised. “Let’s go.” Through the house they went, into a basement where the quality of objects started decreasing the further they went. Damaged and destroyed objects became more common, and the twin pairs of heels echoed in the darkness. Lit only by candlelight spells, they both had blades out they went down into what seemed to be a part of the Dwarven ruins. It went deep. The stone got a bit rough, but Eola didn’t seem to have trouble in her set of heels. Elayne kept looking back, catching her fiddling with the fluttering skirts. She smirked at that. Those ghosting touches along the ass were totally frustrating. “You alright?” She asked.
“Fine.” Eola replied quickly. “As well as can be, given this place.”
A cold wind blew, and with it both women felt their magicka drained away to nothing, the candlelight spells going out. In the dark tunnel, only one light remained. A cold blue glow coming from around the corner up ahead. Heels clicked as they stumbled forwards, coming finally to a single chamber. It was a large square, with old rusted metal frames upon all four walls. A single shrine stood in the middle of the room, and it looks like a rusted mace sat alongside whips and chains. “What in Oblivion?”
“Molag Bal.” Eola whispered, clenching her legs together.
The shrine glowed, drawing both of their eyes to it. The voice that came from everywhere and nowhere seemed loud, pressing upon them from every angle. “You come before the Lord of Domination. You were mine at birth, by the blood of your father. My previous champion. You were promised to me, covered in the blood of your twin. You have played with the children’s god long enough. And then you, who bear my stolen skin. Beg for forgiveness, or you shall die here.”
Every word made the objects attached to Elayne rattle and vibrate, sending her to her knees. She caught herself with one hand, but the damage was done. She had knelt to the lord of Domination. Eola, paler than normal, followed suit. “Elayne?” She whispered. “What do we do?”
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Skyrim: Plaything