Chapter 421: The Blood Moon
Michael's first time meeting went generally how he thought it would. The Grand Magus agreed to tutor him in the ways of magic, and in return, Micahel would acquire arcane knowledge from other worlds for him. Along with occasionally helping the mage out with any experiments he may have.
The deal was essentially the same as the one he had with Auroth, only that he might die a few times in botched experiments... But that didn't really matter since he was basically immortal inside the Book of Legends.
Unfortunately, it appears that Michael wasn't going to catch a break anytime soon, as not all that long after Clavicus usurpation of the moon, another change occurs... The green moons dim slightly before turning crimson.
"The Blood Moon..." he mutters to himself as most of Winterhold anxiously observes the phenomenon...
"I recall you saying that this wasn't common...?" Ennura approaches with her eyes continuously locked on the moons.
"Yeah, well, looks like a different Daedric Prince is responsible for it this time. Blood Moon means Hircine."
"Oh, so you haven't forgotten me." a voice remarks from behind Michael, causing him to almost jump out of his skin.
Michael spins around and finds himself locked in place as he looks upon Hircine, the Daedric Prince of the Hunt, who was standing right in front of him. "W-what are you doing here?" he quickly asks, making sure the Vessel of the Hunt was securely locked in his inventory.
"Hmph, you should be thankful that I haven't rid the world of you, your squandering of my gift is insult enough!... Even know you hide it where even I cannot sense." the 10ft Daedra sneers under the deer skull he was adorned with, "You must feel so smug, but know this. The others are aware of you, and your acquisition of their relics."
...
Yeah, Michael had certainly not wanted to hear that. The Daedric Princes were aware that he was hiding their artifacts away? Right now he had artifacts belonging to Hircine, Nocturnal, Mephala, and Azura, a pretty scary lineup, even with Nocturnal being completely absent from the world at the moment. "How?"
"Foolish servant, did you really think we'd be unaware of things embued with our power? We don't need mortal eyes to see... But fret not, as I have come with a proposition."
Michael chews the inside of his cheek, noticing the scared-looking Ennura slowly backing away from him and Hircine, "I'm assuming this 'proposition' has something to do with the moon?"
Hircine nods, almost clipping Michael with his rather large antlers, "Indeed. With Azura and Clavicus fighting over the moon, I decided to, ah... Mediate. Mediate with a competition! A hunt!"
...
"Hmph, you seem unimpressed. Do you know how difficult it is to gather my brothers and sisters? I had to tempt them all with promises of glory and power. You would have been aware of all this had you not sealed away my artifact." the Daedric Prince grouses.
"Wait, just how many Princes are we talking?" Michael tentatively asks, wondering just how fucked this situation was going to be.
Hircine crosses his arms, "Most of them. But worry not, Nocturnal will be absent. She lacks servants and the ability to acquire more, a pitiful state... Now, I plan for this to be the greatest hunt of all, and I wish for you to be my Champion."
...
"No?" Michael states without much confidence, there wasn't much one could say to a Demon God, especially one who was standing in the middle of your home town, within the grasp of your friends and family...
Hircine shakes his head, "You are mistaken, you are already mine. You will participate or be punished."
Michael shakes his head and quickly retorts, "I never agreed to serve you, we are nothing."
"Your willingness in the matter is not needed. You will do as I say, consider this repayment for sealing my artifact. After the Hunt I will release you from your obligation." Hircine states, not giving him any out.
"I said I won't-" Michael starts again but finds the world whirling around him, his vision turning black for a moment before it returns, revealing the foreign location he was now in.
It was a large, dark circular room with seventeen chairs positioned next to the walls under sigils matching each Daedric Prince. There were already some people gathered under them, a few Michael could actually recognise.
Under the sigil of Azura was the familiar face of Nelacar, the Altmer mage who once apprenticed under Malyn Varen, the Master who Michael had killed while leading the other Apprentices after he'd raised the dead of Winterhold. Malyn was also the mage that he'd stolen the Star of Azura from.
Nelacar looked different from last he saw him though, his face was paler, cleaner, and overall more charming. He wore half white and half black robes that had depictions of the sun and moon on them. He had a staff at his side, along with a strange curved weapon on his hip.
Michael tries to speak to him but finds himself unable to speak or utter a single sound... Shaking his head, he turns towards the next person, a man sitting under the Sigil of Mehrunes Dagon that wore robes of the Mythic Dawn. This was probably Silus Vesuius, the guy who gives the Dragonborn the quest to retrieve Mehrune's Razor.
Michael had been keeping an eye on him, and would have gone to retrieve the Razor's shards once his tower had been constructed... Sadly, it seems that fate wouldn't permit that.
Silus Vesuius had his hood up, but what was visible of his face wasn't pleasant. He had many scars and burns, black bags under his eyes and a lifeless expression. Michael was sure the man had suffered some degree of torture, he well knew the look of someone who'd suffered that sort of pain and humiliation.
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Chapter 422: Bickering
Michael turns to the next person he knew, a man sitting under Meridia's Sigil. Garrick the 'Glare', a Vigilant of Stendarr that he'd met at the Hall of the Vigilant... Or would it 'Former-Vigilant', considering how he was technically conspiring with Daedra, even one as pleasant as Meridia.
The man looked the same as he remembered, strong build, short brown hair, heavily scarred face, and unique eyes that lacked eyelids that seemingly glared into your soul. They locked gazes for a moment, both giving a short nod before turning their attention elsewhere, but not before Michael confirmed that Dawnbreaker was on his hip.
The last person he recognised that was here was Eola, the cannibal that gives the quest that potentially allows the Dragonborn to acquire the Ring of Namira, the ring of which was already on the woman's finger. She wore red warpaint, had one healthy eye, and looked like your average battle-worn Nord woman, if you disregarded the cannabilism.
There were two other people present however, one was sitting under Malacath's sigil, Michael could tell it was an orc judging by the tusks and green skin visible from under the heavily modified orcish helmet. Michael's eyes focussed on the large war hammer placed next to the orc, Volendrung glowed with malicious intent, almost as if it was staring at Michael himself.
The orc's lips rise mockingly as he turns his head towards Michael. Michael glares back, but eventually changes his focus to the next person that was sitting under the sigil of Hermaeus Mora. It was a hooded mage wearing bedraggled robes with a large black tomb strapped to their side... A Black Book, one of the many dangerous artifacts left around Tamriel by the Daedric Prince of knowledge.
*Shooksh!*
Abruptly, the next person appears, this time in the chair under Vaermina's sigil. A Dunmer man wearing ragged priest robs with a dead look in his eyes, one of his hands tightly wrapped around the Skull of Corruption, one of Vaermina's artifacts.
More and more people began arriving, a handsome Imperial mage wielding Sanguine's Rose appearing under, you guess it, Sanguine's sigil.
A sickly-looking Breton warrior wielding Shield-Breaker appears under Peryite.
A huge vampire wearing forsworn garbs and wielding the Mace of Molag Bal.
A Morag Tong assassin wearing the traditional chitin and leather armour appeared under Mephala's sigil, though, Michael couldn't see any visible artifact... They must've been hiding it, smart.
A large man appeared under Boethiah's sigil, completely armoured in ebony armour along with the artifact called Ebony Mail.
The second to last person appears, one that Michael immediately recognises despite their attempts at hiding their identity. They wore ebon thread robes, wielded a familiar staff, and wore the Masque of Clavicus Vile. The most noticeable thing about them though was their very short stature...
"Charlotte..." mentally intones, guilt resurging at his negligence and part in what'd happened to her. She turns towards him, the metal visage of the Masque staring at him...
Both had their attention drawn to the last person however... Well, person isn't the right word...
Under Sheogorath's sigil, a large mud crab appeared in the chair with the Wabbajack tied firmly to its back...
With all the Champions gathered, except the ones belonging to Nocturnal and
Jyggalag, the Daedric Princes finally decided to show themselves.
"So, the horned dog-shagger decided to get between me, and MY people!" Clavicus Vile says, his ephemeral form hovering over the seated Charlotte.
"If anyone is a 'dog-shagger', then it's you, Cas'cus." Azura spits, her beautiful spirit-like form resting its hands on Nelacar's shoulders, causing the man to unconsciously blush and give a nervous smile. "Don't try to tell us that you've never bedded that mutt, Barbas after all this time you've been together."
Sanguine, Sheogorath cackle at this, while Hircine stifles his own response. "Oh, did I upset you, miss frigid mooncalf!? Are you angry at the loss of your moons? Or was it your shrines? Oh! Maybe it was your loss of those annoying hairballs that really did it!" Clavicus mocks, "Spend less time preening at yourself and maybe you'd have been able to stop me!"
"Why are you here if you think you've already won, Clavicus?" Mephala asks, her voice even despite the two Daedric Princes raging at each other.
Clavicus sneers, "To rub my victory in your faces. All of you have tried and failed countless times to claim this world, yet it is I who is closest! A little more time and this world will be mine!"
Molag Bal growls, "You can't claim what is not yours, Imp. This world is mine alone, even if you do capture it, I will be the next to claim it!"
Clavicus laughs, "Bah! The last time you tried you got beat by one of your slaves! Even that pathetic Necromancer fellow fell to them!"
"Do not anger me, Imp, or I'll rend you asunder and burn your realm!" the Prince of Rape roars, his failed attempt at merging Cold Habour with Tamriel clearing being a sore spot.
Clavicus then looks to Mehrunes Dagon, "And don't get me started with you! Personally slapped around by the great golden dragon himself!? What a farce! You should have just laid down and taken it like a proper welp!" He says, enraging Dagon.
"Making enemies already before the hunt has even begun? What's your aim, Vile?" Hircine asks, finding his out-of-character antagonism strange.
Clavicus grins, his illusory form dropping to the floor and stepping to Charlotte's side, "I have no aims other than to beat you all, show you who is truly the best of us. My Champion here will make sure of it."
Molag Bal sneers, "You mock us, did you choose them because they matched you in height?" he sniffs, "The scent of purity is thick. You may possess her soul, but we'll see if that lasts after my Champion holds her down and scars her spirit."
Hircine nods, "I have to say, you picked right. The Hunt will be happening under the Blood Moon, making a Vampire preferable." he remarks, though, doesn't seem to be worried, which the others take note of.
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