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Light-heart lore: Justice for Valaste (aka Sheogorath postpartum) *mild Mages guild quest spoilers*

Justice for Valaste!

Hi all. I loved the mages guild quests. At the end of the mages' guild quests, and if she is saved, mistress of the Incunabula Valaste does not have any further dialogue apart from saying she needs rest.

Even the minor character Muzgraga gra-Khambol in Murcien village, Bangkorai, has two lines of dialogue after the related quest in the village (depending on what you chose).

Valaste does not. A one-liner, even drawn from her dialogue before the final stages of the mages' guild quests, can work. Please give Valaste just a bit of post-quest dialogue, even if it is something about her loving to study in Eveyea, or a reuse of earlier dialogue.

Now, on to the more fun part of this fan-fiction: What the Mad god did after leaving Eveyea.

Sheogorath Postpartum:

"Until next time, Magelings!" Sheogorath and Haskill vanish from Eveyea. They arrive in his throne room in the Shivering Isles in an explosion of butterflies.

"That was a laugh. I still think Shalidor's lack of humour is endlessly amusing. What have you planned for me now, Haskill?" the Mad god asked, turning to his chamberlain.

"Well, lord, I have booked you a dentist appointment on Tirdas at 2."

One-half of Sheogorath's faced pulled into a manic grin. The effect was unsettling, leaving even Haskill - a stalwart servant of the god of Madness - uncertain whether his plan to distract and entertain his master was prudent.

"... you booked a dentist appointment for me...?" Sheogorath repeated leaning on his cane.

"Why, Haskill, that is absolutely ... insane... or inspired. It makes me wonder why I keep you around. ... Or maybe it doesn't."

The stoic steward pushed forward: "You know that the gremlins living among your teeth become particularly jumpey and bitey after you've eaten cheese, my lord. They become like little cheese-filled puppies and get so excited that they escape and terrorise the Shivering Isles. They also gnaw into your teeth, lord," he said.

Sheogorath stabbed a finger at his chamberlain: "Don't lecture me about puppies stuffed with cheese! I've had those. ... Or was it puppies stuffed inside a cheese? ... Either way, it was delicious!"

"I can accompany you, lord. The dentist has been huffing his own nerve gas for a week now, and his nano-atronach drilling spells are particularly potent. ... Just as you instructed me," Haskill said with a hint of reproach.

The Mad god guffawed and relented, "Dear, sweet, insanely, inanely level-headed Haskill, you know me so well. Or probably just remember what I said before I forgot what I was supposed to remember.... Very well. A Tirdas afternoon dentist appointment for a bored Mad god sounds delightfully insane. I foresee a root canal will be needed to excavate the cheese-happy Daedra romping amongst me teeth."

"You will, of course, accompany me. Let it not be said that I am not generous to those who serve me well, or amuse me, or abuse me, or... oh, you get the drift."

The gaily-clad elder-ada - the Sithis-shaped hole in reality - paused briefly, relishing the theatrics: "... I will turn you into one of my molars. Together, we will experience a deranged dentist's deft dab. ... Oh, don't worry, Haskill. It will pain me almost as much as it does you."

He paused: "You know, I have never been an infected tooth being excruciatingly painfully bored into by a very angry - and very small - spinning storm nano-atronach before. I will have to try it. You can tell me what it is like being a tooth-ache," Sheogorath concluded as the pair ambled towards the dreaded hut of the gentle, kind and irrevocably crazy dentist.

It was just before 2 on Tirdas afternoon.

After an indeterminate period waiting in the waiting room - just long enough to drive one to boredom and madness and without the plain clock on the wall being any use in providing a measure of the passage of time (much like clocks in dentists' rooms across the multiverse), our scene lifts up over the Shivering Isles to the sounds of a screeching dentist's drill accompanied by the tortured screams of an unwilling patient ineffectively drugged to the eyeballs in an attempt to lessen the mind-numbing pain. The continuous screaming turns to gargling sobs, almost as if the crazed deity was crying and laughing at the madness of mundane mortal life.

Post scriptum: Haskill never spoke about the experience. But he did develop a reflexive hatred and irrational fear for all kindly teeth doctors.
Nothing leads to more death than the need for certainty. - Xukas
In balance with this life, this death - W.B. Yeats
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