I want to tell ya a story…and NO… I don’t HAVE to go back to the beginning. I don’t have too! I’m a Prince. And a Prince does what he wants. Hahaha! Oh, and I want you to listen closely…unless of course, you’d rather I knit your entrails into a lovely sweater…a festive, colorful, blood-soaked sweater made of your own innards! Ha! Lovely. Perfect for a party. Oh, you’d be the envy of disemboweled bodies everywhere.
What my liege means to say is, he has decided to recount his tale to you, and will be most displeased should you choose not to give him your undivided attention.
That’s what I meant, thank you.
Yes my lord, I live to serve. In the interest of moving things along, as some of you may be rather…limited. I will assume responsibility for the duration of this story. My name is Haskill.
I am Chamberlain to the Daedric Lord Sheogorath: the “MadGod”, the “Gentleman with a Cane”, and the “Prince of Madness”. He whose sphere is insanity and motives are known to him and him alone…supposedly.
The tale of how Sheogorath came to be lies in the story of another Daedric Lord; Jyggalag, the Prince of Order and Logic.
Jyggalag! Are you actually talking about him now?!? BOOOORING! Haha! That’s right, an UTTER bore. He’d have been oh so much more interesting if he actually HAD udders! Oh, and horns and cloven hooves like, you know, any other boar. Also, a little curly tail…That would be adorable.
Ahem. Yes, as I was saying…
Because of his sphere of influence, Jyggalag was the fundamental master of deductive reasoning, and is rumored to have known everything that has ever happened and everything that will ever occur. For Jyggalag, never was there any doubt or uncertainty, only facts, only truth. So great and so boundless was his might that it is said he was feared, and even hated by the other Daedric Lords. In their mutual resentment the Daedric Princes banded together and soundly defeated Jyggalag, but even while he lay broken and vanquished, they were not yet done.
The Daedric Lords placed a curse on the Prince of Order, the most terrible fate they could dream up for a Prince who had embodied the highest peaks of judgment and rationale. Jyggalag was damned to live on as the personification of the deepest depths… of insanity.
Where once there had stood the essence of reason, inescapable logic and the limitless reaches of systematic deduction, there was now only gibbering lunacy and the feverish visions of the hopelessly deranged. In their fervor to destroy one god, the Princes had inadvertently created another, and thus was born the Lord of the never-there; Sheogorath the Daedric Prince of Madness.
Sheogorath’s plane of Oblivion is called the Shivering Isles and like the madness it embodies, it is a realm divided.
The land of Mania is a vivid and intensely colorful region where the denizens are given to bouts of great imagination and creativity. Meanwhile haughty servants of Sheogorath, known as Golden Saints, maintain what laughably passes as “peace and civility”. They also enforce Lord Sheogorath’s policies and directives. This means you troublesome adventurers can’t meander lawlessly in our realm, as you are so inclined on doing…
While the residents of Mania boast great inspiration and relish in the imperceptible spark that drives them to create and to conceive, they are still quite irredeemably mad; like the Madgod himself, they are most unpredictable and as such…extremely dangerous.
The land of Dementia represents the dark, unseen side of madness where psychopathy and paranoia reign supreme even while hidden away from all eyes. The denizens are gloomy, fearful and trustful of no one. It is a place of shadows and pain, where surprisingly patient Dark Seducers preserve proper peace.
Between the two realms lies the Palace of Lord Sheogorath at New Sheoth, the seat of my Lord’s authority. It is here that I personally, am most comfortable. The outer realms are inhospitable, to say nothing of that dreadful Fringe.
This- this is the Shivering Isles.
Ah, the Shivering Isles. Home sweet home. Tis the most interesting of locales, ya know, a true inspiration for those with eyes to see…Hm, and even eyes that have been sucked right out of their sockets! Haha! No. As long as they’re attached to ya, you can still enjoy the view. And what a view it is. From Execution Point you can see the rest of your life… The rest of your life! There’s a concept. Ya know, you mortals and your lifespans. I get so bored living forever. Without your finite lives to fiddle with…why I shudder to think of the dullness! It’s so good to know that when the monotony of eternal life grows insufferably dull, I have you short-lived lot to spice things up! Hahaha! I toss an artifact or two onto the mortal realm and the hilarity begins! Oh, you insects are so quick to start hurting each other, even your adoring fans. Oh- ha! HIM. And they say I’m mad…
As my lord implies, the artifacts of Sheogorath are as uniquely distinctive as he is and most are intended to bring sport and amusement to the Prince of Madness. The Fork of Horripilation appears to be a mundane iron fork and tends to function as one. But when used as a weapon, which Sheogorath appears to enjoy forcing mortals to do, it will stunt a user’s magical abilities or drain them completely. As one would expect, this can pose a danger of the highest order and it brings no end of delight to my Lord.
A most brilliant comedic masterpiece indeed my liege, but with your indulgence I shall endeavor to continue despite my helplessness in the face of your monumental wit- Sir…
The Staff of Everscamp is another of Sheogorath’s artifacts that appears to serve no purpose other than to torment whoever holds it. Once the engraved inscription on the Staff is read aloud, four Scamps appear, and while the creatures are not harmful, they smell as horrendously as all other scamps. Sheogorath laughs mightily as the beasts proceed to make a complete shambles of the bearer’s life.
Among my Lord Sheogorath’s most notorious artifacts is the staff known only as Wabbajack.
Oh! You like that one don’t ya? You mortals, you don’t shut up about it. Wabbajack this. Wabbajack that. Wabba wabba wabba wabba- WABBAJACK! Ha. I’m turning the next one to pick it up into mammoth’s cheese! Hoho, lovely. And then- I’ll feed it to Haskill when he’s not looking…
I shudder at the thought my lord…
To continue, the Wabbajack has extremely unpredictable effects, making it essentially useless for the adventurer who likes to know what spell they are casting before they cast it. While the staff can be useful, should it turn an opponent into a mudcrab, it is equally capable of turning a troublesome imp into a soul hungry lich or worse. The outcomes are utterly random, and of course, completely uncontrollable- as is my Lord.
There are other artifacts attributed to the Prince of Madness, of course, but I grow tired of reciting stories for a mortal mind clearly unable to contain them all, so I’ll simply tell you of the Madgod’s most crucial artifact- the Staff of Sheogorath.
This unusual cane functions as the very core of the Shivering Isles. While it can be seen as a simple walking stick, albeit with an eyeball at the top, the Staff is vitally important, for it is necessary for Sheogorath himself to sit upon the Throne of Madness. And it is with this artifact, that the tale of my Lord reaches its climax. There is a time you see, when the Staff of Sheogorath becomes just a useless piece of wood. It is during the time of the Greymarch.
When the Daedric Lords cursed Jyggalag to live as Sheogorath, they also decreed that once an era he should return, to destroy all that the Madgod had created in his time.
The Shivering Isles are torn asunder by the Forces of Order, and those who betray Sheogorath in favor of embracing Jyggalag’s logic are reborn as Priests of Order. This terrible cycle has continued for millennia and will come again. At some point the Greymarch must return, Jyggalag will rise and how Lord Sheogorath will choose to approach this threat is his alone to know.
Thus ends the tale of my liege. Wherever he leads I will stand at his side, for I am Haskill, the Chamberlain of the great Madgod. It is who I am and all I shall ever be.
Now please, I have duties to which I must attend. Rather more important than talking with the likes of you, I’m sure. The Greymarch is at hand after all…
Yes. Let the Greymarch come. I’ll be me before he is me and then I’ll be me again. It’ll always exist because madness will always exist. Humph, even if I’m not me, I’ll still be me, because there must be a me for me to be me, or is it we?
Ha! What chaos! What disorder! Oh, what absolute bedlam! Why, such confusion could very well drive a person… quite mad…
Muhahaha! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! *cough cough*
Haskill, bring me something to drink.
Thanks for watchin’, with those lovely eyes of yours. In fact, ya know, I just may take those for myself…