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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