Sixteen Accords of Madness , Book XII Content . Malacath ' s Tale . In the days before the Orsinium ' s founding , the spurned Orc - folk were subjected to ostracism and persecutions even more numerous and harsh than their progeny are accustomed to in our own age . So it was that many champions of the Orsimer traveled , enforcing what borders they could for the proliferation of their own people . Many of these champions are spoken of yet today , among them the Cursed Legion , Gromma the Hairless , and the noble Emmeg Gro - Kayra . This latter crusader would have certainly risen to legendary status throughout Tamriel , had he not been subject to the attention of certain Daedric Princes . Emmeg Gro - Kayra was the bastard son of a young maiden who was killed in childbirth . He was raised by the shaman of his tribe , the Grilikamaug in the peaks of what we now call Normar Heights . Late in his fifteenth year , Emmeg forged by hand an ornate suit of scaled armor , a rite of ascension among his tribe . On a blustery day , he pounded the final rivet , and draping a heavy cloak over the bulky mantle , Emmeg set out from his village for the last time . Word of his exploits always returned home , whether defending merchant caravans from brigands or liberating enslaved beast folk . News of the noble Orc crusader began to grace even the lips of Breton s , often with a tinge of fear . Less than two years after ascending to maturity , Gro - Kayra was making camp when a thin voice called out from the thickening night . He was surprised to hear the language of his people spoken by a tongue that obviously did not belong to an Orc . ' Lord Kayra ' , said the voice , ' tales of your deeds have crossed the lips of many , and have reached my ears . ' Peering into the murk , Emmeg made out the silhouette of a cloaked figure , made wavy and ephemeral by the hazy campfire . From the voice alone he had thought the interloper an old hag , but he now decided that he was in the presence of a man of slight and lanky build , though he could discern no further detail . ' Perhaps , ' the wary Orc began , ' but I seek no glory . Who are you ? ' Ignoring the question , the stranger continued , ' Despite that , Orsimer , glory finds you , and I bear a gift worthy of it . ' The visitor ' s cloak parted slightly , revealing nothing but faintly glinting buttons in the pale moonlight , and a bundle was withdrawn and tossed to the side of the fire between the two . Emmeg cautiously removed the rags in which the object was swathed , and was dazzled to discover the item to be a wide , curved blade with ornately decorated handle . The weapon had heft , and Emmeg realized on brandishing it that the elaborate pommel disguised the more practical purpose of balancing the considerable weight of the blade itself . It was nothing much to look at in its present condition , thought the Orc , but once the tarnish was cleaned away and a few missing jewels restored , it would indeed be a blade worthy of a champion ten times his own worth . ' Her name is ' Neb - Crescen ' spoke the thin stranger , seeing the appreciation lighting Gro - Kayra ' s face . ' I got her for a horse and a secret in warmer climes , but in my old age I ' d be lucky to even lift such a weapon . It ' s only proper that I pass her on to one such as yourself . To possess her is to change your life , forever . ' Overcoming his initial infatuation with the arc of honed steel , Emmeg turned his attention back to the visitor . ' Your words are fine , old man , ' Emmeg said , not masking his suspicion , ' but I ' m no fool . You traded for this blade once , and you ' ll trade for it again tonight . What is it that you want ? ' The stranger ' s shoulders slumped , and Emmeg was glad to have unveiled the true purpose of this twilight visit . He sat with him a while , eventually offering a stack of furs , warm food , and a handful of coins in exchange for the exotic weapon . By morning , the stranger was gone . In the week following Emmeg ' s encounter with the stranger , Neb - Crescen had not left its scabbard . He had encountered no enemy in the woods , and his meals consisted of fowl and small game caught with bow and arrow . The peace suited him fine , but on the seventh morning , while fog still crept between the low - hanging boughs , Emmeg ' s ears pricked up at the telltale crunch of a nearby footfall in the dense snow and forest debris . Emmeg ' s nostrils flared , but he was upwind . Being unable to see or smell his guest , and knowing that the breeze carried his scent in that direction , Emmeg ' s guard was up , and he cautiously drew Neb - Crescen from its sheath . Emmeg himself was not entirely sure of all that happened next . The first moment of conscious memory in Emmeg Gro - Kayra ' s mind after drawing Neb - Crescen was the image of the curved blade sweeping through the air in front of him , spattering blood over the virginal powder coating the forest floor . The second memory was a feeling of frenzied bloodlust creeping over him , but it was then that he saw for the first time his victim , an Orc woman perhaps a few years younger than himself , her body a canvas of grisly wounds , enough to kill a strong man ten times over . Emmeg ' s disgust overwhelmed the madness that had overtaken him , and with all his will enlisted , he released Neb - Crescen from his grip and let the blade sail . With a discordant ringing it spun through the air and was buried in a snowdrift . Emmeg fled the scene in shame and horror , drawing the hood of his cloak up to hide himself from the judging eyes of the rising sun . The scene where Emmeg Gro - Kayra had murdered one of his own kind was a macabre one . Below the neck , the body was flayed and mutilated almost beyond recognition , but the untouched face was frozen in a permanent expression of abject terror . It was here that Sheogorath performed certain rites that summoned Malacath , and the two Daedric Lords held court in the presence of the disfigured corpse . ' Why show me this , Mad One ? ' began Malacath , once he recovered from his initial , wordless outrage . ' Do you take such pleasure in watching me grieve the murder of my children ? ' His guttural voice rumbled , and the patron of the Orismer looked upon his counterpart with accusing eyes . ' By birth , she was yours , brother outcast , ' began Sheogorath , solemn in aspect and demeanor . ' But she was a daughter of mine by her own habits . My mourning here is no less than your own , my outrage no less great . ' ' I am not so sure , ' grumbled Malacath , ' but rest assured that vengeance for this crime is mine to reap . I expect no contest from you . Stand aside . ' As the fearsome Prince began to push past him , Lord Sheogorath spoke again . ' I have no intention of standing between you and vengeance . In fact , I mean to help you . I have servants in this wilderness , and can tell you just where to find our mutual foe . I ask only that you use a weapon of my choosing . Wound the criminal with my blade , and banish him to my plane , where I can exact my own punishment . The rights of honor - killing here belong to you . ' With that , Malacath agreed , took the wide blade from Sheogorath , and was gone . Malacath materialized in the path of the murderer , the cloaked figure obscured through a blizzard haze . Bellowing a curse so foul as to wilt the surrounding trees , the blade was drawn and Malacath crossed the distance more quickly than a wild fox . Frothing with rage , he swung the blade in a smooth arc which lopped the head of his foe cleanly off , then plunged the blade up to its hilt in his chest , choking off the spurts of blood into a steady , growing stain of red bubbling from beneath the scaled armor and heavy cloak . Panting from the unexpected immediacy and fury of his own kill , Malacath rested on a knee as the body before him collapsed heavily backwards and the head landed roughly upon a broad , flat stone . The next sound broke the silence like a bolt . ' I - I ' m sorry . . . ' sputtered the voice of Emmeg Gro - Kayra . Malacath ' s eyes went wide as he looked upon the severed head , seeping blood from its wound , but somehow kept alive . Its eyes wavered about wildly , trying to focus on the aspect of Malacath before it . The once - proud eyes of the champion were choked with tears of grief , pain , and confused recognition . To his horror , Malacath recognized only now that the man he had killed was not only one of his Orismer children , but very literally a son he had blessed an Orc maiden with years hence . For achingly long moments the two looked upon each other , despondent and shocked . Then , silent as oiled steel , Sheogorath strode into the clearing . He hefted Emmeg Gro - Kayra ' s disembodied head and bundled it into a small , grey sack . Sheogorath reclaimed Neb - Crescen from the corpse and turned to walk away . Malacath began to stand , but kneeled again , knowing he had irreversibly damned his own offspring to the realm of Sheogorath , and mourned his failure as the sound of his son ' s hoarse pleas faded into the frozen horizon .