Disclaimer: This story contains content that should not be read by people underneath the age of 21. It is 100% fiction and has no bearing on reality whatsoever. 100% fiction means real life rape is WRONG. The author does not condone illegal and immoral actions described. If you feel rape in the real world is a good thing, bend over in a prison and whistle dixie. While I'm disclaiming, racism, homophobia and other bigotry of any kind are also really fucking stupid. I don't own The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, or any characters and make no profit from this story. Please read the story codes above to ensure that you are not going to be offended by, or otherwise dislike, the content. This actual final chapter was also inspired by Mistress S. Thanks!

Description: Realising she's too bloodily demented to assume the role of Madgod, Sheogorath and Azura ensure Moz is balanced in her unbalanced madness...

Content Codes: MFF, cons, PWP, bond, exhib, inter, voy.

Elder Scrolls 4: Ending The Fan Part 9 - By Azura!
by JD ([email protected])

And so it came to pass that the inhabitants of the demented side of the Shivering Isles eagerly accepted Moz gra-Bura as one of their own. She spent a lot of time drinking in Crucible's Taphouse, and vomiting in the open sewer. They noted she never smiled, not once. Not even while dismembering Grummites. Serving as a mercenary for the Daedric Prince Sheogorath she did as she was asked, rising to become Duchess of Dementia and learning of the threat to the Shivering Isles from the Madgod himself. The Greymarch led by his original form as Jyggalag would sweep it all away. Unfortunately, Sheogorath realised too late that Moz had grown too unbalanced; she could not rule Mania without also partly embodying that realm. He needed his champion able to not merely view Mania, but to properly stand astride both realms. He was still enough in personal control to feel the moment in which Moz was wrenched too far into violent darkness, that long night on which her lover died fast and the Bosmer's killer slow. He reached out to Azura and asked a question. Azura answered. That night Moz passed out drunk in her newly awarded Ducal chambers, and dropped through a briefly present portal before the sight of the unconcerned Mazken guards.

Awaking brutally sober, Moz tried to shield her eyes from the stunning brightness around. The colours were wilder and brighter than even Mania's most extroverted plants, and a sharp change from Crucible's muted decay. Her hand was stopped short of her face by wrist shackles, which were connected to similar on her ankles. Despite her phenomenal strength the heavy enchanted Daedric metal held firm at her sudden enraged yanking, Moz found she could she could just about crawl forward. Having lost her sense of humour, she envisioned the river of blood that would flow from the person who'd trapped her thus. There'd be more than she'd left on the floor of the approving blacksmith's in Crucible while testing new blades. Turning her head towards the sound of beating wings, she saw an approaching Winged Twilight holding a collar and dog leash.

"Don't even think about it! I'll rip your fucking wings off and shove stuffing up your ass! And I'll..." she growled, but Moz was too well bound.

Thrash about as she might, the Daedric female collared her with little effort and no speech. Hovering just above the ground, she tugged on Moz's neck with the strength of her species. The Orc warrior found herself with no option but to crawl forward, cursing all the way. There hadn't been any Winged Twilights in the Shivering Isles; Moz knew she'd awoken on another plane of Oblivion. Thinking hard - though finding it hard to think through her bloodlust, rage and overwhelming desire to shout abusively - she recalled that Winged Twilights were said to be servants of the Daedric Prince, Azura, Queen of the Night Sky. She vaguely recalled performing a quest for Azura, though the details were alcohol sodden. Something about killing Vampires, but Moz'd massacred so many blood drinkers that they ran together in memory.

She was led like a dog into a shining palace walled with silver. Her green skin was tough, despite the evidence of scarring, and Moz felt more pain from the shackles digging in than the cool tiled floor beneath her hands and knees. The doors up ahead were exceptionally ornate, and Moz suspected a Throne Room. She was being dragged into Azura's presence in a manner which suggested the Daedric Prince was not entirely happy. How had Fanroth described her, quoting that book of invocation? "She is a cruel but wise mistress"? Thinking of her dear lost Fanroth again, she recalled his personal devotion to Azura, and almost lost her train of threatening invective.

"...and then I'll, uh, flay the skin from your back and use it to make another new new pair of boots you cowardly Daedric bitch!"

Moz's cursing of her Winged Twilight captor trailed off as the doors opened. She was dragged before Azura. The Daedra attached the leash to a ring before Azura's throne, drawing in the slack so that Moz's face was almost to the tiles. Fluttering back, she caught Moz's raised buttocks with a half-strength kick, that might have bruised the flesh of a lesser Orc. While of simpler construction Azura's throne room was more tasteful than that of the Prince of Madness. The design spoke of the influence she'd had on Dunmer culture. Moz's eyes were drawn up past the slinky skirt that covered Azura's legs, and the Prince's breasts, to the look of distaste visible in her dark eyes. Save for the eyes, Azura looked very like a female Dark Elf, though Moz knew her appearance to be as mutable as that of all the Daedric princes. Even so, Azura enthroned was the most beautiful woman Moz had ever seen.

"You have offended me, Orc. I granted you my holiest artefact, my Star, for your service... and you settled a bill with it!"

The memory surfaced like a hungry slaughterfish from the murky depths of Moz's mind. At the end of the Oblivion crisis, she'd thrown something that was part celebration of victory, and part wake for Martin Septim and others who'd fallen. Three weeks of drinking, fucking, eating and more fucking at the best hotel in the Imperial City.


"That's all you have to say, Orc? I do not take offence lightly. You are to be the next Prince of Madness. My peer. Would you enjoy an eternity of enmity with me? Speak."

"I never had much need for trapping souls, Lord Azura. Mage's work. I'm a warrior I heard someone say later that the star was on show in the hotel's Lobby, and that worshippers were even turning from the Imperial Cult to view it. That was a great party, too. I'm not sorry. Won't lie to you. Lying is for cowards."

Moz stopped, meeting the gaze of Azura even from her enforced humble position. She'd had entire days in the Shivering Isles with fewer words spoken than in the previous few moments. Her voice was husky, overworked.

"And I wouldn't accept an apology made just to save skin," Azura clasped her hands together beneath her chin, and continued, "You have a destiny, and I will not prevent it. Jyggalag has earned peace. But it must be known that I received recompense for this insult. Sheogorath knows this, and that is partly why you are here. I have selected one of my most loyal servants to whom you will submit both here... and in the Shivering Isles, that your new subjects will respect Azura's will over madness. It matters not if my servant is slain, for he is now of the Daedra and will return directly to you from the voids of Oblivion three days later."

Moz considered that Azura loved the sound of her own voice a little too much. She felt a heavy Daedric cock slapped between her buttocks, rubbing gently back and forth like a sausage in a bun. Moz didn't fear death, and her anger at being shackled hadn't faded. She pulled hard on the heavy chains, and opened her mouth to declare that the Shivering Isles could be fucked and Azura too. Then Azura's servant spoke, and her very soul seemed to jump,

"Grand Champion... I died part Daedra and awoke in the service of my Lord Azura, but my heart has always been with you."

"Fanroth! If this is illusion..."

"No, no illusion. Can't you feel how real it is? The warmth of my love for you?"

Moz was shocked to find her eyes welling up with tears. Shackled before Azura, she instead laughed with the furious joy of a Maniac. If Azura wanted to see her get fucked by Fanroth, well, who was she to refuse a show?

"Come then, Fanroth! Fuck me in the ass for the glory of Azura!" Moz laughed, giddy with joy, utterly consumed with gratitude to the Daedric Prince.

Azura shook her head bemusedly. The phrase was more common than the Orc realised. Slipping a hand down her skirt, she was satisfied that her scheme had come to fruition. She'd realised long before Sheogorath that he would need Fanroth to balance his Champion. She'd drawn the partly Daedric Bosmer to Moonshadow purely to allow him to go to the Shivering Isles when Sheogorath inevitably requested him. She rubbed herself, feeling the dampness already growing below. Fanroth took the pot of oil he'd brought into the throne room, and worked it into Moz's asshole, slim Elf fingers almost lost amidst the Orc's clutching Moon-and-Star. Azura planned to send a vision of this coupling into her worshippers' dreams; the undefeated Orc champion shackled face down, ass in the air, willingly taking the cock of Azura's servant. There would be a lot of sticky and damp bedding across Tamriel come the holy dawn hours.

Fanroth, too, was ecstatic to be re-united with Moz. His mortal death had been so sudden that he'd not even felt it, and while happy in the service of Azura, the constantly horny flock of Winged Twilights he'd been servicing were not a patch on the pleasure he felt just being in the Orc Warrior's boisterous company, never mind the pleasure of being in her arms. They'd not had time to try his now permanent Daedric cock in Moz's ass before the Argonian murdered him, but sliding the last of the oil down his slickened shaft, the Bosmer knew the time had arrived.

"I love you, Moz. I'm going to spend eternity with you... if you'll still have me when you're the Madgod."

Moz bit her lip, drawing blood, and pushed her ass back as much as she could, lost for words. It felt an age since she'd been fucked, though she'd come close to lying with the female Bosmer smith in Crucible. They'd shared other private moments, equally sticky in their own way. Moz felt Fanroth stroke the fresher scars across her back with slippery fingers, a moment later and he pressed the oiled glans into her rosebud. It seemed far bigger to Moz than when he'd filled her pussy. After taking the Minotaur Lord back there, Moz knew she could accommodate her lover. There was an absolutely delicious pain as he stretched her, opening her wide, wider... and then he was inside. They were truly together again.

"Yes, oh yes..." the Orc hissed.

Moz felt a hand in her hair, and then Azura lifted her head a little. Kneeling astride the Orc's lowered head, with chain and ring running beneath, the Queen of the Night Sky drew Moz's face to her pussy. Dark hairs shone with Daedric nectar, over lit like all else in Moonshadow. Azura's scent overpowered even Moz's ever-present Orc musk. Sweetly intense, Moz felt herself start to drool. Fanroth worked his length into her ass, green skin stretched pale, rocking her forward until her nose brushed bush. Azura inched closer and spoke, warmly,

"Drink of me."

Moz lashed her dark tongue out, lapping at the divine sex of the Daedric Prince. Azura held onto her head, tightly, and the Orc recognised strength that dwarfed her own. Though looking like a Dunmer, she was far greater. As Fanroth humped into her ass, she licked eagerly, enjoying the helplessness of her shackles far more than when she first awoke. The delightful hot friction and incredible fullness she felt were enhanced tenfold by knowing it was Fanroth who rode her. As soon as she loosened a little, he moved rougher, harder. She'd never been one for slow love making. Moz wanted, needed, rough hard animalistic fucking. She was an Orc, not a prissy Altmer. At the same time she tongued deep into Azura's slick wetness, before withdrawing to lap and suck upon her nub. She knew she owed the Prince more than she could ever repay.

Fanroth groped and slapped Moz's buttocks. Since his rebirth in Moonshadow, he'd gained a more Daedric level of strength despite retaining his slim build. He wondered if Moz'd noted the arrival of more of Azura's servants; the ceiling perches were flocked with Twilights, who could climb much higher in Moonshadow than in Tamriel. He knew the public display was necessary, to fully restore Azura's pride, and he also knew enough of Moz to know she wouldn't give a shit. A faint patter of drops against the floor signalled the flock pleasuring themselves and each other as their Mistress accepted the Orc's submission. He expected they were cooing, but couldn't hear over Moz's slightly muffled groaning, and Azura's entirely un-muffled moaning. Moonshadow-gained experience with his Daedric cock meant that Fanroth not only had the size, but the much vaunted knowledge of what to do with it. Working the oiled length in and out with long strokes, he soon added the slap of his balls to the smack of his hand. Too think he'd once been satisfied just watching Moz work up a sweat in the Arena...

Moz felt one of her shackles release; a single hand only. Raising her eyes slightly, the Orc caught Azura's wink before the Prince arched her back, and face, away. Azura massaged her own breasts, playing with pretty nipples as black as Moz's. Moz licked harder, deeper, drawing pleasure from Azura to match her own. Pausing only to pinch one of her own nipples with the freed hand, she reached for her own pussy and rubbed hard. She was so close to coming. Thinking again of how helpless she was, how big Fanroth's cock was, how deep inside... the Orc drew herself to the edge. Azura beat her. Moz felt the passionate scream, beyond her ears' hearing. The Prince's climax was like a wave of magic spreading through them all. At the same moment, Azura gushed hard into Moz's face with such heat and volume that Moz thought she'd lost control of her bladder... but sweet. So sweet. She gulped like a drowning Orc as she resumed fingering herself, splaying, probing, rubbing.

"MozMozMozMOZ!" Fanroth's sudden shout provided little warning for his Elfin body's sudden stiffening.

The intense heat triggered Moz, her big green ass gripping Fanroth's cock like a vice as she howled into Azura's sex. Not just an orgasm... an orgasm from Fanroth, her Fanroth. She could feel his skin next to hers, his face down on her back as he kissed her green skin with pale lips. He seemed so delicate, despite the thickness of the organ still spurting into her bowels. They panted together, Daedric Prince, Daedric Bosmer, and an Orc who would be Madgod. The moment was only broken when an overexcited Winged Twilight fell from her perch to a ragged chorus of laughter. Moz raised a shaking hand in an obscene gesture towards the voyeuristic Daedra. Azura spoke,

"Return, now. Meet your destiny."

With Azura's command, a new Oblivion portal opened beneath them. Azura remained in Moonshadow, while she and Fanroth dropped down to her bed in the Ducal chambers of Dementia. They'd returned on the morning of the 14th day of Sun's Dawn. Fanroth withdrew with a wet pop that displayed his length to the appreciative Mazken guards, who'd stayed at their posts as Sheogorath had instructed. As the torrent of Daedric spunk oozed from Moz's fundament, they privately decided that an attempt would have to be made to live up to the Dark Seducer reputation after all. Moz rolled over, and drew Fanroth into her arms. Her muscular biceps almost crushed him, despite his heightened durability.

" Azura said I'd have to submit to you here, too. We'd better not wait around."

"Let me get my breath back, Grand Champion!"

"Please, call me Moz."

And he would have done, had she not kissed him with great passion.

And so in time Moz completed the quests of Sheogorath, he returned to his original form as Jyggalag, Daedric Prince of Order. She defeated Jyggalag's Greymarch and became the new Madgod, equally of Mania and Dementia. Though she wore the traditional form of Sheogorath for the dreams of her worshippers in the same manner as the other Daedric Princes chose their appearance, for Fanroth she was always Moz... although she kept the option of growing a nice big Orc cock to use in arousing fun with him and any others they brought to bed.

They existed happily ever after.

The real end.


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