“You see, mortal, Pelagius has been feeling a little unsure of himself as of late.” The voice of Sheogorath echoed through the misty forest in such a way that it was impossible to determine where the Madgod was. Pinkie was having difficulty understanding what was happening in front of her, and the Prince of Madness's vague words did nothing to shed light on it. Emperor Pelagius III was doing battle with a specter of some sort, and every blow exchanged resulted in one of the two shrinking while the other grew. “Maybe you can help him. All you have to do is get his self-esteem above his self hatred.”

“I know how to do this.” The Element's words were meant for herself rather than as assurance of her abilities to Pelagius. She had a surefire method to make anypony smile, just a little song and dance and poof, happy times abound. The party pony took a deep breath and prepared a song she'd been working on for the past twelve seconds, only to find a choking noise coming from her throat when she tried to sing. Pinkie tried again, but to no avail. With no small amount of horror, the Element of Laughter realized Sheogorath had taken away her ability to sing!

“Now you're getting it!” The jovial Daedra called from within the pony's head, seemingly ignorant of the sanctity of the mind. But as Prince of Madness, very little seemed to be valuable to him. The party pony was having a small heart attack as the reality of her situation sank in. Hircine had been direct in his challenge, but Sheogorath played with his toys' minds before he fully claimed them with insanity. The pink mare was reminded of Discord in no small way, and could hardly wrap her mind around the Prince's sudden cruelty. “I handed you my Wabbajack, the least you could do is actually use it!”

“How are you happy and mad at the same time?!” Pinkie tried yelling out at the voice, only to choke on her breath. Only the wind answered her garbled shout, the Prince of Madness's voice seemed to have lost interest in her for the time being. With a heavy heart and the realization that she shouldn't be too kind to strangers in Tamriel, the party-lover held the eldritch staff in on hoof. She wasn't consciously aware of the Wabbajack's operating system, but the artifact thrummed with power as she pointed it at the spirit attacking Pelagius's double. “Sorry, ghostie, but I gotta do this.”

A red bolt of magic fired from the Wabbajack's tip, visibly shrinking the phantom. In a rush of inspiration, Pinkie fired another blast at the Pelagius twin, and was amazed to see him grow in size. The pattern was simple, just alternate between the two until Sheogorath decided the task was complete. Things rarely went so smoothly, and it showed when another spirit appeared and began pummeling the dead Emperor.

“Oh, come on!”

@#@#@#@#@#@#

“Just open your mind, the power will come naturally.” Renoir's words resounded through the air as bolts of flame impacted Twilight's barrier. The vampire was overseeing the mare's more specialized training, just the most basic of defensive magic until Reman would be able to take charge. The Breton made a great teacher, and having over half a century of experience made things almost easier for both parties.

“I'm trying.” Twilight was giving the exercise her near-best, if only because she was trying to avoid another encounter with the entity from the outpost. The Element felt a similar tingle in her mind every time Renoir's magic made contact with her own, but she did her best to resist surrender. A slight scowl appeared on the vampire's face as he noticed his pupil's lack of focus, and he sought to rectify that deficiency.

“Heads up.” The Belmont put more magicka behind his next bolt than needed, but it was for a good cause. The blast impacted with a sharp crack as Twilight's barrier fractured under the intense heat, and a similar fire in the undead man's eyes warned the pony of a more powerful attack in the works. The vampire thrust his hand forward, a white-hot firebolt quickly towards the shielded mare. The Element thought fast, and her plan seemed like a logical course of action. Twilight dodged to the side, dropping her barrier as she went, and sent a beam of her own unrefined magicka to her attacker.

“Heads up yourself.” The pony didn't mean to sound smug as the blast impacted Renoir's chest, sending the nearly century-old vampire to the ground. A slight wave of confidence filled her as she took in the sight of a more experienced mage at her mercy. A spark emerged in the forefront of her mind, a foothold for her budding skill in Tamriellic magic. While the rush was foreign, it was entirely her own, with absolutely nothing resembling the invasive tentacles from earlier.

“Are you feeling alright?” Reman walked over from his own end of the courtyard, the scent of Oblivion's dark waters present on him from his Conjuration training. The Imperial looked mirthfully at his vampiric friend as he rose from his shameful fall, only for Renoir to notice the same problem as he had.

“I feel fine, why?” Twilight couldn't see why the lycan was worried about her, other than the obvious care shared by friends. Maybe her display of strength was too powerful for a mere training session, but she was sure the two men would enjoy such an act.

“Because you appear to be on fire.” Something about the calmness of Renoir's voice left the Element unconvinced, but she also noticed the look Reman had while blatantly staring at her. Twilight reminded her self that, yes, Nirn was home to a host to things stranger than fire that didn't burn the pony it surrounded, and took a moment to inspect herself. Her tail was bright orange and red, it flowed on the air like flames in the wind. The mare's coat was almost white, but at least her hooves weren't engulfed as well.

“Well, isn't that something?”

@#@#@#@#@#@#

“Can I please go home now?” Pinkie had completed the first step in aiding Pelagius, but she had experienced more than enough Sheogorath-style fun for a few lifetimes. The Wabbajack was nice and all, but she really needed to get back to her friends. The party-lover also wanted to get as far from the Blue Palace as physically possible.

“Now now, mortal, that's not very sporting, is it?” The accented voice lilted on the wind, sounding both amused and annoyed at the pony's attempts to escape his little game. Fun was Sheogorath's prerogative, and he would not be denied this simple pleasure by some colorful, extra-dimensional horse-beast that was too easily saddened for her own good. Did he sound bitter? Were things not following their set path? Perhaps only a purely objective observation could answer that. “Maybe we should move things along? I'm sure some people are eager to see you and your friends get home.”

“So I can lea-” Pinkie was cut off when iron shackles clamped over her hooves. While being chained wouldn't have been much of a surprise to her at this point, the fact that she also secured to a cart caught her off guard. It may have had something to do with the rail system that suddenly grew from the ground, but the Element had a bad feeling about this. The fear was only made worse when her cart-prison was moved by Sheogorath's unseen hand, pushing her ever closer to the Prince's ultimate goal. Though whether the actual object of the tasks was to aid Pelagius or just give the Madgod a few chuckles, Pinkie did not know.

“Pelagius's mother was, well, pretty bad. But, considering how most other Septims were, she was about average.” The monster trolley slowed to a stop in front of a stone stairway, the sounds of monsters drifted from the ancient-looking structure as the party-lover was ejected from her forced perch. The Wabbajack was similarly tossed to her as an unseen force moved the pink mare up the moss-covered pathway, much to her dismay. “But, she taught him to suspect danger could come from anywhere, and it very well could.” The Prince almost purred those last words, the voice's odd vibrations sent a shiver down Pinkie's spine just as surely as Skyrim's bitter winds.

“I'm not gonna have to fight a dragon, am I?” The normally-bubbly pony had fallen into one of her episodes again, which was not a good thing. There had always been an underlying semi-instability that resided within the Element, a sort of antithesis for the aspect of harmony she represented. The unusual behavior and alienated appearance of her dulled coat and straightened mane served to warn others of her emotional turmoil, and Sheogorath seemed to enjoy every second of it.

“Of course not, my little pony, you just have to make sure your atronach beats the other.” Pinkie wasn't sure what that was, but as she neared the stairway's peak, she saw three humans dressed in that same bronze armor Reman had worn to Solitude. Or, at least she thought they were human; the masked helmets made it a little difficult to determine race. Most interesting about the scene was the pit holding two elemental monsters battling it out, so the Element naturally assumed the one closer to her was her objective. The Storm Atronach was having no trouble fighting its twin, but damage seemed nonexistent. “And remember to use the Wabbajack! No singing, dancing, or cheering allowed until after you win.”

The only question now was how exactly she could do this without draining the staff's limited supply of energy, if it even needed a supply to begin with, and escape this arena unharmed. Using the only tactic Sheogorath would allow, Pinkie fired a bolt of magic at her Tesla-resembling ally. Its transformation didn't even catch her off guard, the madness of this strange mindscape was common enough for her to develop a sort of tolerance. Her now-fiery pit-dog was still ineffective at harming its enemy, which the straight-maned mare was happy for, but the lack of damage wasn't helping her escape Pelagius's dreams any faster.

“I think your aim is off.” Sheogorath was next to her, sitting calmly in a chair and eating some sort of stick-like snack. It smelled like fish. The blind-looking Prince watched the fight with little amusement, regarding the battle between two monsters like it was as dull to him as a ladle made of rounded pebbles, even though something like that would have been interesting to see. While his motives were unclear at the absolute best of times, Pinkie only realized that he was unhappy with her performance so far, and she did not want the Lord of the Never-There to be displeased with her.

The Element of Laughter turned the Wabbajack from the fighting creatures, and instead aimed it towards one of the men seated across from her. She didn't miss the Madgod's sweet smile as the crimson magic hit home, engulfing both armored men in purple smoke. When the dark, rippling mist cleared, a pair of wolves resided where humans once sat, and both lupines turned their heads to their former charge.

Much to Pinkie's horror, something held her head in place as the wolves fell upon the last human. Her eyes were glued to the scene as metal and flesh were torn away as effortlessly as paper, and it was unlikely she would ever get Sheogorath's laughter out of her mind.

@#@#@#@#@#@#

“You're taking this oddly well.” Reman and Twilight had retreated indoors for their lesson, something Renoir would be completely unable to teach. While Bretons had a natural affinity for the summoning arts, the vampire was as ineffective with Conjuration as the Imperial was with Illusion. It wasn't a lack of power or skill, merely the complete inability to deal with that School in any practical sense.

“It's happened before.” The Element of Magic was referring to her current state, which was unchanged from her bout of training in the courtyard. At least the flames had died down a bit, no longer raging enough to warrant concern from anypony. The lycan cast the lavender pony an odd look, partially disbelieving her, but decided against saying anything. He had learned long ago that those with a transformation linked to ability rather than Daedric or Divine influence were best left alone.

“Remember that you deal with powerful forces, be certain they don't overwhelm you.” Reman's words did nothing to ease the nervousness Twilight felt, though the man likely had no idea that the mare was panicking like never before. Perhaps the tentacles would not return, or maybe the Imperial would be able to turn them away should they rear their ugly, probing bodies. Still, there was an ever-present level of risk that would not leave Twilight's thoughts. “Take your place opposite of me.”

“Then get ready to cast?” The lavender mare took her seat across from the man, who shot her a flat look. The Element almost flinched under the human's gaze, surprised by his sudden sternness. She needed to remind herself that magic was considered an art form as well as a science in Tamriel, and trying to charge right into the work of a artisan could come seem offensive to a masterful practitioner.

“No, first think about what spell you wish to cast; what sort of corpse you wish to raise or Daedra you wish to bind.” Reman seemed like a tough teacher, the sort that allowed no nonsense would be allowed under his watchful eye. Training someone in Conjuration so soon after exposure to Destruction could have adverse effects, especially in one so unused to Tamriel's School and disciplines of magicka. “We can begin as soon as a servant brings us the necessary materials.”

“So, we're just studying?” Twilight's question was met with an amused smirk, it was obvious that the Imperial knew more about the subject than her. The flaming Element perfectly imitated the lycan's earlier look of displeasure, which only served to bring a laugh from both parties. “I can do that with the best of them.”

“You're implying we'll be using books.”