Sixteen Accords of Madness The Sixteen Accords of Madness is a book series relating to various stories involving Sheogorath and his interactions among other Daedric Princes . It is notable that while the series has sixteen books , only three are known . Content . Sixteen Accords of Madness , Book VI . Hircine ' s Tale . Ever proud and boastful , Oblivion ' s Mad Prince stood one fifth day of mid year among the frigid peaks of Skyrim , and beckoned forth Hircine for parlay . The Huntsman God materialized , for this was his day , and the boldness of Sheogorath intrigued him . Wry without equal , Sheogorath holds in his realm giggling loons , flamboyant auteurs , and craven mutilators . The Mad Prince will ply profitless bargains and promote senseless bloodshed for nothing more than the joy of another ' s confusion , tragedy , or rage . So it was that Sheogorath had set a stage on which to play himself as rival to Hircine . Without haste , the coy Prince proffered his contest ; each Prince was to groom a beast to meet at this place again , three years to the hour , and do fatal battle . Expressionless behind his fearsome countenance , Hircine agreed , and with naught but a dusting of snow in the drift , the Princes were gone to their realms . Confident , but knowing Sheogorath for a trickster , Hircine secretly bred an abomination in his hidden realm . An ancient Daedroth he summoned , and imbued it with the foul curse of lycanthropy . Of pitch heart and jagged fang , the unspeakable horror had no peer , even among the great hunters of Hircine ' s sphere . In the third year , on the given day , Hircine returned , where Sheogorath leaned , cross - legged on a stone , whistling with idle patience . The Prince of the Hunt struck his spear to the ground , bringing forth his unnatural , snarling behemoth . Doffing his cap , sly as ever , Sheogorath stood and stepped aside to reveal a tiny , colorful bird perched atop the stone . Demurely it chirped in the bristling gusts , scarcely audible . In a twisted , springing heap , the Daedroth was upon the stone , leaving only rubble where the boulder had been . Thinking itself victorious , the monster ' s bloodied maw curled into a mock grin , when a subdued song drifted in the crisp air . The tiny bird lightly hopped along the snout of the furious Daedroth . Sheogorath looked on , quietly mirthful , as the diminutive creature picked at a bit of detritus caught in scales betwixt the fiery eyes of the larger beast . With howling fury , the were - thing blinded itself trying to pluck away the nuisance . And so it continued for hours , Hircine looking on in shame while his finest beast gradually destroyed itself in pursuit of the seemingly oblivious bird , all the while chirping a mournful tune to the lonesome range . Livid , but beaten , Hircine burned the ragged corpse and withdrew to his realm , swearing in forgotten tongues . His curses still hang in those peaks , and no wayfarer tarries for fear of his wrathful aspect in those obscured heights . Turning on his heel , Sheogorath beckoned the miniscule songbird to perch atop his shoulder , and strolled down the mountain , making for the warm breezes and vibrant sunsets of the Abecean coast , whistling in tune with the tiniest champion in Tamriel . Sixteen Accords of Madness , Book IX . Vaermina ' s Tale . Darius Shano found himself running as fast as he could . He had no idea what he was running from or towards , but he didn ' t care . The desire saturated his mind - - there was nothing in the world except flight . He looked around for landmarks , anything to place himself or to use as a target , but to no avail - - the featureless grasslands through which he was sprinting extended as far as the eye could see . " Just have to keep running " , he thought to himself . " I have to run as fast as I can " . On and on he ran , with no end in sight or in mind . . . Standing over Darius Shano while he lay quietly in his bed were his mistress , Vaermina the Dreamweaver , and the Madgod Sheogorath . Vaermina looked down with pride at this disciple of hers , and was boastful of her little jewel . " Such potential in this one ! Through dreams of inspiration , I have nurtured literary talent into fruition , and now he stands in acclaim as an emerging bard and poet ! He will gain much favor before I tire of him . " Sheogorath , too , gazed at the young Breton artist and saw that he was indeed famous among the other mortals . " Hmmm , " mused Sheogorath , " but how many are there who hate this mortal whom you have built ? It is the hatred of the mortals which confirms greatness , and not their love . Surely you can accomplish this as well ? " " Perhaps , Dreamweaver , it would be amusing to show who has this power ? Inspire foolish , arrogant hatred of this mortal for ten years , and then I will do the same . We shall see whose talents are most efficient , free of aid or interference from any of the Daedra . " At this , she relaxed into confident pleasure . " The Madgod is indeed powerful , but this task is suited to my skills . The mortals are repulsed by madness , but rarely think it worthy of hate . I shall take pleasure in revealing this to you , as I bring the more subtle horrors out of this mortal ' s subconscious . " And so , in the 19th year of his life , the dreams Darius Shano had been experiencing began to change . Fear had always been part of the night for him , but now there was something else . A darkness began to creep into his slumber , a darkness that sucked away all feeling and color , leaving only emptiness behind . When this happened , he opened his mouth to scream , but found that the darkness had taken his voice as well . All he had was the terror and the void , and each night they filled him with a new understanding of death . Yet , when he woke , there was no fear , for he had faith that his Lady had a purpose . Indeed , one night Vaermina herself emerged from the void . She leaned in close to whisper into his ear . " Watch carefully , my beloved ! " With that , she pulled the void away , and for hours each night she would reveal to Darius the most horrible perversions of nature . Men being skinned and eaten alive by other men , unimaginable beasts of many limbs and mouths , entire populations being burned - - their screams filled his every evening . In time , these visions gnawed at his soul , and his work began to take on the character of his nightmares . The images revealed to him at night were reproduced on the page , and the terrible cruelty and hollow vice that his work contained both revolted and fascinated the public . They reveled in their disgust over every detail . There were those who openly enjoyed his shocking material , and his popularity among some only fed the hatred of those who found him abhorrent . This continued for several years , while the infamy of Darius grew steadily . Then , in his 29th year , without warning , the dreams and nightmares ceased . Darius felt a weight lifted , as he no longer endured the nightly tortures , but was confused . " What have I done to displease my Mistress ? " , he wondered aloud . " Why has she abandoned me ? " Vaermina never answered his prayers . No one ever answered , and the restless dreams faded away to leave Darius in long , deep sleeps . Interest in the works of Darius Shano waned . His prose became stale and his ideas failed to provoke the shock and outrage they once had . As the memory of his notoriety and of his terrible dreams faded , the questions that raced in his mind eventually produced resentment against Vaermina , his former mistress . Resentment grew into hatred , from hatred came ridicule , and over time ridicule became disbelief . Slowly it became obvious - - Vaermina had never spoken to him at all ; his dreams were simply the product of a sick mind that had righted itself . He had been deceived by his own subconscious , and the anger and shame overwhelmed him . The man who once conversed with a deity drifted steadily into heresy . In time , all of the bitterness , doubt , and sacrilege focused in Darius a creative philosophy that was threaded throughout all of his subsequent work . He challenged the Gods themselves , as well as the infantile public and corrupt state for worshiping them . He mocked them all with perverse caricatures , sparing no one and giving no quarter . He challenged the Gods in public to strike him down if they existed , and ridiculed them when no such comeuppance was delivered . To all of this , the people reacted with outrage far greater than they had shown his previous work . His early career had offended only sensibilities , but now he was striking directly at the heart of the people . His body of work grew in size and intensity . Temples , nobles , and commoners were all targets of his scorn . Finally , at age 39 , Darius wrote a piece entitled " The Noblest Fool , " ridiculing The Emperor God Tiber Septim for integrating into the pathetic Nine Divines cult . The local King of Daenia , who had been humiliated by this upstart in the past , saw his chance - - for his sacrilege against the Empire , Darius Shano was executed , with a ceremonial blade , in front of a cheering crowd of hundreds . His last , bitter words were gurgled through a mouthful of his own blood . 20 years after their wager was first placed , Vaermina and Sheogorath met over Darius Shano ' s headless corpse . The Dreamweaver had been eager for this meeting ; she had been waiting for years to confront the Daedric Prince over his lack of action . " I have been deceived by you , Sheogorath ! I performed my half of the bargain , but during your ten years you never contacted the mortal once . He owes none of his greatness to you or your talents or your influence ! " " Nonsense , " croaked the Madgod . " I was with him all along ! When your time ended and mine began , your whispers in his ear were replaced with silence . I severed his link to that from which he found the most comfort and meaning , and withheld the very attention the creature so desperately craved . Without his mistress , this man ' s character could ripen under resentment and hatred . Now his bitterness is total and , overcome by a madness fueled by his rage , he feeds me in my realm as an eternal servant . " Sheogorath turned and spoke to the empty space by his side . " Indeed ; Darius Shano was a glorious mortal . Despised by his own people , his kings , and even by the Gods he mocked . For my success , I shall accept three - score followers of Vaermina into my service . And the dreamers will awaken as madmen . " And thus did Sheogorath teach Vaermina that without madness , there are no dreams , and no creation . Vaermina will never forget this lesson . Sixteen Accords of Madness , Book XII . 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 .