Conversations with Daedric Artifacts, Volume I: Spellbreaker

Set Erol, Novice Adventurer and Scholar (Circa 4E 201)

Note From The Editor: This series, Conversations with Daedric Artifacts, written by Master Erol appears to convey a strange sense of unknown information of highly doubtful reasoning and validity. A known trafficker with Daedra, Erol’s (if this is his actual name or a unsubtle nod to the Eslaf Erol series of books remains to be certain, although I highly suspect the latter) tales may or may not be true at all and are instead a horrific saga of him going insane through contact with so many profane items at one time.'

I have been entranced with the Daedra ever since my great aunt Pseu, a master conjurer of High Rock, told me stories about the different planes of Oblivion. I was especially interested in the Daedric Princes and the magnificent legends of powerful objects they rewarded to faithful mortals that performed a great service for them. I decided at the age of six that I would grow up and attain all of these items eventually, and create a personal museum to show them off to my friends and family.

Twelve years later I traveled to the province of Skyrim through the Reach, for I had learned that a Shrine to Peryite was in the region. The Daedric Prince of Tasks, Pestilence, and the Natural Order, the Green Dragon was the most mysterious of all the Princes to me but his famous artifact Spellbreaker was the first artifact I wished to claim. On the outside it appeared to be an uniquely crafted Dwemer shield dating all the way back to the First Era, but it was capable of protecting its wearer from both sword and spell. Such a shield would benefit me in my dealings with the other Daedric Princes easily, and so I went to discuss business with the shrine’s caretaker Kesh the Clean.

After learning how to brew a potion to contact the Prince from his lone worshipper (the ingredients needed were easy to get, while some of them were…more disturbing than the others) I found myself in direct conversation with Peryite himself, the world turning into magnificent colors of a deep hue as I breathed the mixture in. Apparently a rogue worshipper of the Prince, a Bosmer named Orchendor, had stolen away the rest of his followers to a Dwemer ruin and he wanted me to kill him. While this violence concerned me I agreed, and traveled into the bile-smelling ruin and fought against sickly cultists until I came to the wood elf himself, who I slewed with my father’s glass sword. I returned to the Shrine, breathed the world-changing fumes once more, and informed the Daedra of my deeds.

"Well done, mortal. All things are in their order, and Orchendor roams the Pits. His betrayal will be punished, and your obedience is rewarded,” the Taskmaster said to me as the deeply colored world slowly faded away, and in that instant Spellbreaker appeared on my arm gleaming beautifully. Ecstatic beyond my wildest dreams I bade Kesh goodbye and left the Shrine, walking deep into the Reach.

“I wish there was a group of bandits to test my new shield on!” I whispered excitedly underneath the mountains.

Your ‘shield’ has a name you know. I would appreciate you using it adventurer, I mean, that is what names were invented for anyway.

I gasped and unsheathed my blade, turning this way and that to see where the voice had come from. It sounded like an old Dunmer my mother used to know when I was a lad, his voice raspy yet strangely soothing from all the ash from Morrowind.

Although the word shield does keep the balance between name and title interestingly well though. I change my mind, call me Shield. Such a balanced word shield is, with its attractive six letter formation. Six, an elegant balance created from three, an inelegant scourge. I love six.

“Come at me coward who hides in the dark!” I yelled into the open, wiling the stranger to show himself. Suddenly the voice started to laugh, and for the first time I realized that the voice was less a sound and more a thought intruding into my head.

Oh my, you are stupid one. Lord Peryite certainly knows how to pick them. I’m the coward. Well, I’m not actually a coward…but I am the being you are referring to! Look at your wrist, look at the shield.

I looked at my wrist, only to see Spellbreaker gleaming. Wait, the shield…

“No, it can’t be…”

But it IS! I’m speaking to you, young adventurer. The shield. SPELLBREAKER! Bane of Mages, Destroyer of Warriors! And sometimes Daedric Cup and Gleaming Pate! That’s right, you can use me to eat and drink with when you don’t have any utensils! Wasn’t expecting that now, were ya? And speaking of wrists…you’re carrying me a bit unbalanced here on your right forearm…if you could just move me a bit to the left…

“You…talk?” I asked skeptically, ignoring the fact I was conversing with a Daedric artifact. “How is that possible?”

You’ve never talked to a Daedric artifact before? What are you, an Aedra? Haha!

“Well…you are the first artifact I’ve acquired in my journeys. Also, I’m a mortal and not one of the Divines that protect our world.”

…Oh. Well, we all talk. Us artifacts I mean. I am personally 15, 645, 3879th of the Caretaker of Cures and the Creator of Contagions himself, sealed within this shield to give it it’s power. Such an IMPERFECT number. I didn’t get to be 15, 645, 3880th, I’m so jealous of him. And THAT ONE IS JUST A RING! DAMN YOU MASTER!

Well, actually…damn me. Because I AM Peryite. I’m a little piece of him, one of the really small pieces. I think. That’s what the ring told me, but it gets into places it really shouldn’t and so I tell. I’m the magic behind the magic so to speak. Confusing yes? By the way, good job against that ghastly Orchendor. Knew he couldn’t be trusted! I tried to tell the Master, but he wouldn’t listen. [Sigh] But now I’m out of the Pits, which means I should be grateful. Now can you rearrange me on your arm please?

I absentmindedly straighten the shield on my arm until it feels balanced enough. “Is that better?”

OH YES! Much better mortal, thank you. I was starting to get an itch…which is odd, since I’m made of metal and can’t itch. Only fleshy things can itch, mortal things. If metal things could itch that would upset the natural order of things. And then the Master would get angry and I would get angry, and he might have to divert all his attention to one place. Master can be dreadfully terrifying when he diverts all his attention on one place, because he rarely does that.

“The Taskmaster doesn’t pay attention to things?”

No, quite the opposite in fact. He OVER pays attention to everything. His eyes are everywhere you know, making sure the natural order is upheld. All the other Princes don’t pay as much attention to detail as he does, bumbling void-spit they are. He’s been with you since the beginning – he watched you being procreated, watched you being born, and has already seen you die. Some part of him is probably watching you right now…but he sometimes overwatches to the point things slipped past him. Which is BAD.

I had to admit to myself, I was starting to enjoy conversing with Spellbreaker. It’s dialogue was refreshing and illuminating, and before I knew it I was walking with the shield throughout the wilderness of the Reach back to my lonely but homely cabin.

“When did you enter the service of Lord Peryite, Spellbreaker? I know you’re a Dwemer shield but…you seem like so much more.”

OF COURSE, MORTAL! I’m the Spellbreaker, Forged By Dwemer. Deep Folk, fantastic people. They made sure each segment of me was properly balanced and structured and what not. The Rourken I think, the ones that lived in the sand. I don’t think I like sand, it’s so IMBALANCED. So many particles mixed together…EW, makes my plating shiver. I couldn’t talk back then, but I think I liked it there with them. Then…[Deep Demonic Growl] THE MAGE CAME.

SHALIDOR! I WILL BASH MY FACE INTO HIM WITH ALL MY MIGHT IF I EVER SEE THAT STUPID NORD AGAIN!! Well…actually, you’ll have to bash me. Or the other fleshy mortal that’s wearing me when that event happens, which may not happen. Now I’m sad.

Nevertheless, big battle took place then and there. REALLY big battle. And…did they lose me? Offer me? Sacrificed me? Gifted me? Stole me? I can’t actually remember, but one of the parties involved gave me to the Master and now I’ve been with him ever since. Now I’m happy again. I do miss my forge-sibling though, Volendrung.

“Volendrung is…you’re brother?”

FORGE-SIBLING, NOT BROTHER. There’s a difference. Well, not actually related because metal things can’t mate. But we came from the same ore, and I wonder what happened to the hammer. Serves Malacath, poor thing. Only gets to be used by Dungmer and people their Not-Daedra likes. Quite sad really. Haven’t seen him in a century, though. Or maybe it was a millennia. Don’t stare at me like that, I’m a SHIELD not a damn scholar.

I suddenly smiled to myself when I realized that my dream could come to fruition in one fell swoop. The Divines must be shining down upon me with their glory. “I’m actually on a quest to attain and learn more about the relics of the Daedra Lord. Do you think you’d like to see the rest of your weapon-brethren, and maybe even help me with this endeavor?”

Certainly mortal! Why not just go around and upset the natural balance of the world by helping all the Princes with some annoying task or whatnot just for power and glory? When has THAT gone wrong before, eh? However, I am indeed intrigued. Seeing my old companions would be interesting. As long as we don’t get the Mace of Molag Bal though. [Grunts]

“I take it the Mace of Molag Bal is not a friend?”

OH, Mace is a friend. A BAD friend. Really bad friend. But if you want to get it too…I suppose you can. But Volendrung first or I’ll…I’ll…um, sit on your wrist and just look like a really expensive shield that doesn’t work.

“Fine,” I said, looking towards Masser and Secunda in the sky. “Volendrung it is. One more question, though.”

What?

“Where do you think we can find some Orcs?”

END OF PART ONE.