Twas a fine day in the demesne known as The Shivering Isles. For those of you who are not
familiar with elementary basket weaving, this realm belongs to the Daedric Prince of music,
madness, and cheddar cheese: Sheogorath. Yes dear child, your Lord of insanity was feeling bored with his fruit waterfalls and living glass gardens. He turned his white-haired head (in all it's unshaven glory) to his droll beanpole of a steward; Haskill.
"HASKILL!" Thundered his faintly Scottish accent. "My dear sweet Haskill, what is today's itinerary? In the words of a remixed He-Man: heyheyheyhey WHAT'S GOIN ON?"
The balding, indifferent-looking man opened a scroll and briefly skimmed through it.
"Nothing, sir. Nothing for today..." He observed the blankness of the page once more.
"Ya know Haskill, Nothing isn't nothing if there IS something. Nothing isn't the absolute limit. We could have blankness planned for today."
The Mad God considered his surroundings for a moment while scratching the whiskers on his chin. He needed a shave. A mental note would have to be made concerning his facial hair, but not at the moment, his mind was far too unorganized right now.
Haskill rolled his watery eyes and again spoke in his flat, monotone voice: "I have heard tell of an ancient portal that leads to a land of magic and adventure known only as Eques. All manner of mages and sorcerers have ventured forth into this world only to never return."
Haskill's master looked up at him from his throne, where flutes made of human bones were piping all around the two. "Brilliant idea my good man! We must be off then, effective immediately! Pack your things Haskill, were goin to Eques!
Well, it's not the usual setting but hey...what is?