Welcome to the Garden of Sithis

A Strange and Sultry Visitor in the Stay-Moist Mansion.

Welcome to the Garden of Sithis!!

It was raining when Drake got the request. A sodden warm jungle wet permeated everything. Hot, humid and dank like the steam rising off a tub of dirty laundry full of boiling water. The kind of pure jungle funk every lizard dreams of. The thick native foliage of the place is nicely shaped and carefully pruned in places, with Deshaan, Ashland, Vvardenfell, and Shadowfen trees and shrubs predominating. Numerous jungle palms, a huge scintillating swamp fabricant tree from Clockwork City, and a massive banyan loom up along the edges of the path, where a stone gray gargoyle pillar looms leering at a slight angle, having sunken into the swampy ground a little. A small skeletal undead dragon guards the front gate, his neck and tail swaying to and fro endlessly so the little skull ends up looking at you no matter where you stand. Spiked agave and aloe shrubs here and there and some strange glowing otherworldly mushrooms prop up the corners of the varied verdant vegetation blanketing the grounds. An ornamental cherry and thick boled hist bring further color and character to the yard as the dark lord Sithis overlooks all, sword, severed head, and flaming bowls in hands. A soul shriven figure in rags shuffles around, half braindead, looking down in impotent wistful horror at a headstone and the body of a wrapped corpse – his witch mother in life – a past lover – possibly both!!  The glowing eyes of the Lord Warden of Imperial City Prison glare hatefully down on them from the back wall with the promise of endless suffering and the inevitable eternity of oblivion.
Invisible waves of apathy and enervation emanating from the statue proclaim the meaninglessness of existence and absence of anything of value in all creation. Truly, this is the garden of the Dread Father.    

A swampy dawn in the garden of Sithis

Drake was in the back 40, pondering the meaning of the strange platform that had sprung up in the sky behind the stay moist mansion – with a pirate flag heralding the sight of two well wrapped witch corpses beside a patch of glowing oblivion shrooms - their presence a peculiar mystery of unknown consequence. His light argonian tunic of green with Ayleid golden embroidery kept magically dry in the rain, allowing only such moisture through as to keep his scales refreshed and comfortable. An unknown friend from one of many thousands of previous random adventures was asking to drop by for a visit and drinks. How excssssssiting. My firssst housssssse guessssst. "Are you in the guild? Shades are always welcome in the garden", Drake responded, but there was no confirmation forthcoming.  This was to be a different kind of visitor, an interloper of a strange and sultry nature.

 The latest addition to the garden of Sithis had been some Argonian eggs laid lovingly by the hist tree – foreshadowing ovulating pulsar echoes of the next generation of shadowscales. She arrived quickly – looking angular, evil, and peculiar - not entirely unlike the form of a woman posessed by some dark force. The Bovine Domihaus skull looked appropriately spooky as she sat in a daedric throne behind the house to admire the trophies set into the mud on the back of the mansion. A large glowing oblivion shroom hung over each chair providing an eerie pale blue light. The visitor was all compliments and very animated, seemingly excited to be here and praising the design of the place with great praise. “You made a UFO!!”, she shouted, seeing the ring of bronze busts around the top of the mansion. Such unexpected observations. Soon we were inside, laying down by the fire on Argonian reed mats sipping Argonian bloodwine and laughing about how this home was a dream within a dream. A fantastic place to call home, away from home. "Can I live here?", what a pleasant complimentary request.  He was pleasantly drunk and nearly asleep when she started dusting him off with a broom of palm fronds and tossed a bucket of water on him – which had him jumping up and down wildly – Maw of the Infernal helm bobbling weirdly on his short little Argonian frame. They hit the bedroom and while he sat down to read “Cheeses of Tamriel”, she got comfortable on the bed in a sultry pose that looked oddly incongruous with her bovine skulled head – like something out of a seductive fantasy snuff porn nightmare. You're turned on and horrified simultaneously. You want to look away, but can't – the sexual tension is too exciting and bizarre to allow distraction. Drake could barely focus on the 'cheeses of Tamriel' text in front of him. She took a deep breath and suggested slipping into something more comfortable. He managed to suppress a choked cough, and wheezed out a breathily whispered reptilian 'alrighty then'.  A moment later she returned as a beautiful Breton enchantress, with a surprisingly stylish flowing dress of gently quilted sequined pink design and an upturned smile and glittering eyes unlike anything the lizard had ever seen. The smile was crookedly mocking and vaguely self-depreciating at the same time, a bizarre and attractive transfiguration of a mouth that was immediately appealing to the assassin. Her long flowing blonde locks held back by a platinum ruby broach and ample bosom cradled majestically in muted pink tones of padded sequined light armor, this was without doubt the most beautiful looking Breton woman Drake had ever seen.

Sorry, no pics of the Babe - too stunned and bedazzled by the smile to get a screenshot.
Who is this witch?!!

He was dazzled by the quirky upturned edges of her smile and not sure what to do next... They spent some time exploring the interior of the mud hut 'mansion' and making small talk about various things. She confided that she'd been living in a cave, and loved fishing. Curiouser and curiouser... They admired the painting of the ruins behind Belkarth as being one of the best works of art on the market, and basked in the light of carefully crafted and enchanted Argonian wax candles. Moments later Drake fled the scene, as she requested the presence of the true master of the house and protested the deformed ugliness of his twine wrapped desiccated crocodile skull head. Knowing himself a wonderous gifted shadowscale mage assassin, and having absolute confidence in his capacity for laughter, mirth, and murder alike, Drake took no offense, and gladly deferred the company to his alternate compatriot.

D'erzalus the endgame templar-healer showed up - golden goblet in hand, - sipping wine with perfect aplomb and looking darkly handsome - somewhat amused that she thought him 'spooky looking' after the Argonian with the zombie croc head!! His wavy ashland-pyroclastic-red hair and serious grey faced demeanor are only visible when drinking, otherwise the grim, savage horned visage of Bogdan the Nightflame dominates his looks. He wore a silver-blue silken robe of scintillating legendary quality and incredible detail from Falkreath Hold – legendary - as all his gear – through endless training of years and fights unnumbered. Wandering outside to the courtyard, they danced and sang and laughed like drunk mad children in the garden of Sithis, shifting effortlessly from dance style to dance style, and she pranced around in a jester's walk and we laughed madly at the beauty and magic of the scene. She took a chair at the foot of Sithis' statue, and D'erzalus genuflected wildly at her feet – the mystery of that moment being, was he worshiping the Idol? Or the incredibly attractive and amusing blonde bombshell of a Breton? She walked up and down the path in a stately noble's gait, and made it clear that she liked pretty, beautiful things – but that the magic of this particular stay moist mansion dwelling was most impressive and pleasurable despite being both 'spooky' and 'weird'. She juggled blue Telvanni fireballs, and he juggled huge wavy bladed assassins daggers and they impressed each other with spectacular displays of agility, skill, power, and hilarity. She looked so pretty in her muted pink dress, talking her girl talk and dancing stylishly – until.....

D'erzalus at dawn, Valenwood coast

Suddenly, the polite attractive Breton facade shimmered, shifted, faded, and she revealed her true form – a dark seducer!! Decked out completely in black and red Xivkyn plate armour!!

The duel request came suddenly, and the battle standard dropped just as fast. Fire erupted from the base of the banner and a globe of iridescent purple lined darkness popped up around D'erzalus as she made the first attack. His horned nightflame helmet took a moment to come through, but by the time it did, he already had 3 other HOT's up and running. A blood altar and rapid regeneration followed by heavy attack to activate drauger's rest AOE HOT sent a red-golden glow over the entire area as her globe of daedric darkness faded away and a leathery batwing lined anchor dropped from the sky. The Bogdans anchor would only last a few seconds, but during those seconds D'erzalus was invulnerable with so many other heals going on in tandem. She launched attack after attack at range, venom arrows followed by acid spray from a daedric bow – a few light attacks – venom arrow – then drawn swords – dual wielded wavy things all spikes and poisoned rage as she charged in to bring the violence to close quarters in melee - but with so many simultaneous heals running, the effects of all her efforts barely phased him. Calling down a fragment of the sun upon her darkened head with solar disturbance, he pressed on with heavy staff attacks, blast after blast – each one absorbing and returning magica for more attacks and heals - the golden glow of Draugers Rest ever present. She swung 'round and instantly stunned him with a particularly virulent attack, both blades singing through the side of his neck and spraying blood and acrid green poison hissing onto the base of the statue of Sithis - D's health bar fell ten percent below the mid range mark as she pressed the attack with light followup jabs, stabbing through the magic defenses of his silken robes punching bloody red holes in the flesh of his chest. D'erzalus arm swung in an arc for breath of life and the wounds closed immediately - just below full health again, his robes looking as though they'd never been touched or punctured. He pushed on with relentless heavy staff attacks from the Dweomer stave he'd wielded in so many campaigns. Her health dropped gradually and steadily, the outcome inevitable. Blades flashing to the end, she fell silently at the foot of the statue of Sithis. All sound ceased, as though everything had been muted by the blood pounding in the eardrums after heated battle, the music of danger, chaos, and survival singing louder than any other music could ever possibly sing. Everything in slow motion. Eternity and entropy in ever-present singularity. A soul torn asunder by violent death and the sable black nothingness of the void, ripped from its mortal coil by oblivion magica resurrected and seeking answers to questions that only the magnanimous ubiquity of fate and eternity may provide. The endless oblivion of the Void as the garden grows on, forevermore. As she rose up and took on ghostly form she asked with great surprise, “how did you kill me?” The response was simple. “Sorry dear, my heals are pretty mad”. “The only way to kill this Dunmer is with a well timed massive burst DPS”, his honesty and humility in victory absolute. “I'll remember that”, she said with a demonic grin as her gorgeous body re-incorporated and her beautiful Breton facade faded back into place.  “I'll remember that”.....

“I think the sun is rising...”

They exchanged gifts, danced with mad joy and had a few more drinks, then she said with the perfect poise and self-assured pseudo-wisdom of the attractive female heroine, “Make a hot breton male and I'll see you around, biiieeeeeeeee”. FWOOOSH!!!! She was gone. D'erzalus chuckled with the knowing mirth of the benevolent hometown victor, “Not bloody likely, but maybe I can hook you up with someone sometime”.  

A tiny bright red tree frog is marauding slowly across the top of a crumbling brick wall in the yard, eyes like hematite sapphire pinheads taking in every detail of the scene.  His right hand strays absently up to cradle the monstrous goatee of the Bogdan's helm.  Heavy dew is dripping slowly from palm trees all around and somewhere out there cicadas maintain a mesmerizing hum in the canopy.  Exotic birds chirp, wail, and cry out beyond the walls. "What a grand morning to be alive", he thinks.  Turning with the swift precision of recent combat alertness he glides pensively down the path past the glistening hist tree and up the back steps to the second floor apartment, where a good book and a cozy bed await...
...and what dreams may come...

"We are what we pretend to be, 
so we must be careful what we pretend to be" 

- Kurt Vonnegut, Mother Night.

BEAUTY.

THE END.

All names and artwork express property of ZOS, Bethesda, and ESO - the writing's mine. PEACE!!  
Published by @herbalremedde