The Daedric Princes think themselves as Gods to mortals. To some of them we are little more then amusements, to others we are but subjects and vassals to exploit. Some treat us like pets, others like farm animals. Some of them want to control us, whilst others destroy. But the one thing we are to all of them, is a frustration.
We are a friction of animal instinct and conscience. Our instincts they seek to exploit, arouse, influence and manipulate, but our conscience they cannot. They are certain it should be a weakness, so they seek to test it, to breach it, to undermine it at every opportunity. But what they fail to understand is that it is tested everyday by ourselves. There is no witness so honest, no accuser so candid, and no judge so harsh as our own conscience.
Sheogorath will return to the Shivering Isles, no doubt he will delight in the games he played, in tormenting Shalidor, in corrupting Valaste, and in manipulating me. Yet in a quiet moment of reflection one thing will vex him… I did not hesitate.
After thousands of years the majestic isle of Eyevea is finally returned to its home in the Abecean Sea.
The ancient Arch-Mage Shalidor greets us upon our arrival, but he is not here alone. The island has returned from Oblivion occupied by a host of Sheogorath’s insidious daedra, and Shalidor is keen to evict these most unwelcome guests from his sanctuary.
Also returning from the daedric realm are the huge mushroom trees native to the Shivering Isles, which now predominate Eyevea’s gardens and surrounding hillsides. Most of the island’s architecture however has remained surprisingly unchanged during its decampment from Nirn; the soaring spires and graceful arches of the halls, bridges and outbuildings reflecting perfectly the Altmeri heritage of their Summerset neighbours.
One last uninvited, if not wholly unexpected guest however, is Sheogorath himself. The Mad God could never let his game end without making the final play. And so to complete this maddening circle he offers one last obliquitous bargain.
At the Mages Guildhall in Evermore, the Master of Incunabula Valaste has finally managed to decipher Sheogorath’s final tome, but it appears to have taken a serious toll upon her wits. Shalidor meanwhile triumphantly prepares to perform the rite that will finally return the isle of Eyevea back to the Mundus.
One thing I have learnt from these games with Sheogorath however that Shalidor seemingly hasn’t, despite all his years, is that when you are playing by a deadric prince’s rules, the point of the game is not to win, but to survive.
Something tells me that we are about to discover that this particular Mad God’s game has a tail as barbed as a Craglorn Scorpions.
In the dark heart of the Chateau of the Ravenous Rodent, Sheogorath reveals his most prized fool.
Uncle Leo, as the prince calls him, was once a mortal man whose greed led him into a seemingly perfect bargain with the Mad God. But for all Sheogorath’s suppositious lunacy, there is no prince in all Oblivion that understands mortal frailties more. He waited patiently, and eventually, just as Sheogorath expected, the mortal’s heart overruled his head, and on his happiest night, the Mad God melted his flesh and remoulded him into the abomination I see before me now.
Seemingly tired of his prize, in much the same way as a cruel child might drop a wild skeever into a box with a pet snake, I have been set against this malformed behemoth for the Mad God’s perverse entertainment.
The main house of the Chateau of the Ravenous Rodent, is a macabre and disturbing building. Its residents, who Sheogorath describes as his ‘family’, are clearly mind-shriven and deranged, attacking savagely without cause or logic.
These former playthings of Sheogorath, corrupted and driven into insanity, may once have been his devout followers, or, perhaps they were just everyday, rational, earnest people, whose misfortune it was to have crossed the Mad God’s path and become his sport.
Madness can be pardoned, but even in Gods, it is never an excuse for cruelty.