As Shoagi ran, he had one thought. The stash, where is it, oh Divines where is it? Then, finally, he saw it. The secret door. Racing to the tree, he opened the little hatch at the bottom, taking out a bottle of Skooma. Yes… He thought, relaxing and letting the warmth flow through him.
It had already been 10 years since he had left his abusive parents, seeking out a life as a blacksmith, but still the nightmares haunted him. He remembered the last words his father said to him, “You’re a disgrace, go freeze your ass off out there for all I care, while me and your mother starve. GO!” While others would have long shaken off that last insult, something about it kept haunting him.
He shivered, some of the warmth from the Skooma seeming to ware off. He began using Skooma about one and a half years ago, and became addicted. It helped him get through the long nights, was his only thing that made his life worth living back then, besides his Argonian friend whose name he never learned. When he had to refer to him, he simply called him Vox, a name he used when he was drunk once, and one that stuck, for whatever reason.
He began to make the seemingly endless walk back to his house, when he saw the man. Dressed in a ridiculous outfit, he seemed like a cross between a beggar and a jester. As the man’s eyes fell upon him, he gestured to Shoagi to come to him. Not knowing why, Shoagi complied.
When he made it to the man, he was ignored as the man looked around the city, seemingly forgetting Shoagi. “Beautiful place, isn’t it?” The man said, now looking at him. “Full of death, racism, fear, I could live here!” The man seemed to find that incredibly funny, and began laughing hysterically.
Shoagi, for no reason apparent to him, began laughing as well. At first artificial laughter, then genuine amusement powered his laughs, before turning to the giggles of a madman destined to the headman’s block. “Hahaha, hahahahaha, HAHAHAHAHA!” Their laughs rang out in the empty streets, surrounding them like a blanket of insanity.
As the man began to finish laughing, wiping tears from his eyes, he said, “Oh, that was a good one! I haven’t laughed that hard in seconds, or was it centuries? No matter! You can call me… CRAZY!” The pair began laughing again, and whenever they were close to stopping, one said “Crazy!‘ again, and they laughed even harder.
When they finally stopped laughing, the man took a moment to compose himself, then asked a question. “Why do you live?”
“Huh?” Shoagi said, confused.
“Why do you live? Not why you were born or any of that, but why do you continue living? What makes it worth it?”
Shoagi thought for several seconds, before replying slowly “For my friends… they make life worth living. That and Skooma,” Shoagi said, flashing a grin. He had no fear of telling the man about his Skooma usage, for he felt that the man wouldn’t even think of turning him into the authorities. “Besides, why bother dying? What is there in death that would appeal to me?”
“Hm.. Good answer friend, good answer.” The man paused, gathering his thoughts, before talking again. “How would you like to be crazy, and have power, crazy with power if you will. And cheese!”
“Crazy… and have power? And cheese?” Shoagi paused, before saying “What do you mean?”
“Look, I’m not a person. Well I am, depending on your definition, but probably not. What I mean is that I’m a daedra, Sheogorath, the Daedric Prince of Madness. I’ve been watching you for a while, and I think you can be of use to me. If you accept, you get some power, see everything as fun, gain some luck. And even better, when you die, you get to party eternally with me! What do you say?”
Now, it has to say that Shoagi wasn’t thinking too clearly. Not only was Sheogorath strongly influencing him, but he was also still high on Skooma. While a normal person would have instantly rejected Sheogorath’s offer, he actually considered it. He was also not the sanest person alive, due to his constant mistreatment at the hands of his parents and the racism of the Nords, all of which added up to trouble for poor Shoagi.
“Partying? Forever? Why not?”
“Ah, good,” Sheogorath said, pulling out a contract from a realm of Oblivion, the summoning making a soft Whoosh sound. “Just sign here, here, and here… Need a pen? Here you go. Whoops, that’s a mouse! Here it is.... I think. Ah, thank you! Now, I’ll be off, just know that I’ll be watching you. Have fun!”
As Sheogorath disappeared, time seemed to reverse itself. Shoagi was staring at the moon, which had moved while they talked. The moon began to inch backwards from where it was, and the buildings and other objects around him became a blur. He found himself where he was before he walked towards the daedra, at the same time as before.
Shoagi saw his other friend walk towards him, a fellow Dark Elf called Yeriu. He met Yeriu when he moved to Windhelm, living in the Gray Quarter. Yeriu was an alchemist, and Yeriu and Vox struck up a fragile type of friendship, neither liking nor disliking the other, bound together by Shoagi. Because of Vox’s magical knowledge, the three of them had the ability to make all sorts of goods together, and opened up a shop together.
As Yeriu walked him back, knowing without even asking that Shoagi had been hitting the Skooma again, the night seemed to shiver with anticipation. Things were stirring in their slumber, and fate held a cruel future for the trio of friends...
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