Weavings of a child of Mephala.

Theme: Heresy

A Heretic's Journal of the Secret Society: The Eight Shadows.

I don't care if I am killed for writing about this, and it's my hope that my message will see the light. The Light. Too long I've been in darkness, waiting to escape. I never wanted the darkness but I was called to it by sultry invocation. Not much time now so I'll be brief.

My name is not important. You, dear reader, may call me Umbral Brother #8: it's what I was known as in the Society. Anyway, I'm writing to tell all Tamriel, anyone who'll listen, about the Eight Shadows of Mephala, my life and my damnation. This Society is a coven of assassins taught to topple governments, corrupt the pious, and take souls for the Infernal Princes. Don't let our name fool you, while we serve Mephala, we do not hesitate to betray her worship by colluding with other Princes.

I think deep down Mephala respects, despite her inevitable fury, our duplicitous worship-contracts with the Others. After all, is not Mephala everything at once, she the Father of all Princes, and he the true Mother of destruction, hands burnt black and arrayed in an armour of terror?

We would call out all Princes: Boethiah for guidance in revolt, Dagon to know how to create whilst destroying, Vile for the bargain-which-serves-one, Hircine for lessons in the appreciation of the Hunt, Mora so that we may corrupt the foolish do-gooders towards right service, and so on through Princes named and unnamed do we bargain. Power, Sex, Murder, the Order craves this Sinful Triad and strives to incorporate them into every action.

Now that I have given you some idea as to our allegiances and minor practice, I shall speak about the members of our Order and how we are ranked.

At the lowest (the base of Mephala’s pyramid) are the Umbrals: those who go out into the world in commoners’ garb and despoil by Mephalite means anything and anyone they can.

Next are the Spiderlings: a prestigious group of young assassins (aged around 7-10) who infiltrate the homes of the elite by adoption, stealth, or placement by another Society member; their task is to kill a selected target, ruin a political figure’s reputation (by any means) or bring down the entire court upon maturity. Those Spiderlings who grow into adulthood inside a host family usually complete their mission and swallow poison (Mephala’s Kiss) lest they be captured. Do not weep for them, for they believe that this sacrifice has earned them a place in the Spiral Skein’s Halls of Avarice. Whether or not that is the truth I do not know. Only Mephala could say- and that is not her way. But it seems to grant the Spiderlings resolve. On the other side, if a Spiderling is caught, Mephala leaves them to their fate, reasoning that only the skilful deserve her attention.

Higher up the pyramid there are the Blackened Hands: they as both theorist and terrorist plan the movements of the Order and the ways in which an assignment can be completed. They do not hear the Queen of Eight Shadows but follow the orders transmitted from on high by those who do hear.

Next are the Web-Weavers: their job is to collect gossip, information, and spread false ideas throughout Tamriel, obscuring the Order and learning damaging secrets.

The Sybarites (an orgy is the collective term) entrance, seduce, manipulate and kill their given targets by stealth, however sometimes they take root in a noble’s household and pose as the seductive nanny to the children, or dashing lord, splitting families apart through the stoking of jealousy, lust, envy and desire. The Sybarite proceeds to destroy the household by marriage, secret murder or scandal. With these things achieved the Sybarite will attempt to corrupt the government using their new found power and it has often been said that a wicked stepmother or callous lord is really a member of this cadre of rogues. Their main weapon for this task is the spinneret dagger: a weapon which traps the soul of the target and implants the soul of the wielder, allowing high-ranking figures to be disposed of and their position assumed. No one lower than the Sybarites is told about what happens to their bodies, and I have never dared to inquire, gods judge me not.

Even higher in the chain of command lie the Spider-Wives, men and women who forsake their identities in order to sate all mundane appetites (for a handsome fee) and are the primary source of funding for the Order. Some call them sacred prostitutes but they are much more, they are Mephala’s will spun from ghost-web gossamer. Therefore, they frequent the dives, brothels, and vice-ridden luxury city quarters (bringing some measure of style to their work) always seeking new converts to the Order or payment for their services. But make no mistake, if you are found to be lacking coin or ambition, then they shall devour you in the way of spiders after mating.

Almost at the clouded capstone of the Mephalite pyramid are the Silken Seers: mortals who have heard our Lady’s voice, taken the Blade to their bosom (in both ways) and have slaughtered their entire family as thank-offering and blood-price for Mephala’s gifts. In return, Mephala grants peerless vision of those things which have yet to transpire but the foresights are a labyrinthine series of events (noise to most mortals) as befits Mephala’s whim. The Seers speak little, knowing that all language is meaningless without action.

Finally, there is the Night Mother, the original conduit of Mephala, not like those of the Forester’s Guild and Dark Brotherhood. We have no listener for our Night Mother is Mephala herself, the Queen of Eight Shadows inhabits a faithful priestess who serves as the vessel for her dread.

And that is all that I can say about the Order as that is all I was permitted to know. I do not write this to make amends for my despicable service to this wicked order but to let the world know that Mephala and her minions are constantly plotting fresh horrors to unleash. I shall die soon, Mephala’s Kiss has touched my lips and all that shall be left is this message.

Fear the Queen of Eight Shadows for it is the only thing any of us can do.