Chapter 424: First Challenger
The Vessel of the Hunt's ability to track other Champions or Shrines might seem pretty overpowered, but when you considered the powerful artifacts the others possessed, it was pretty lacking... If Michael wasn't already powerful in his own right, he'd have stood no chance against them.
"Hmm.. First, let's check Azura's statue. Then I'll go take a chat with Molag Bal's Champion." Michael mutters to himself. If he wanted anyone to lose, it would be that piece of shit. But first, "Darth, tell everyone that I'll be busy... And to stay inside somewhere safe until the moon returns to normal."
"At once, Master."
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Michael treks up the mountain where the statue of Azura once stood, quickly making his way to the top where Azura's giant head sat, half-buried in the snow... Atop the head sat a shrine, with Nelacar standing next to it.
"Michael." he offers conversationally as if they weren't opponents in a deathmatch.
"Nelacar... I'm surprised that you went under Azura's wing, especially since you were taught by a guy who was defiling one of her artifacts." Michael remarks, not yet drawing his weapon.
Nelacar lets out a sigh, "And I never imagined that it was you who stole said artifact. If you had left it alone, maybe we'd be in a different situation..."
Michael shrugs, "I doubt that... You know you can't beat me, right? You won't be able to run like last time..."
Nelacar wets his lips anxiously, "Maybe... But we don't have to fight now... We could join hands and eliminate the others first... Neither of us wants Clavicus Vile to win and gain further ground, Azura is one of the better choices, wouldn't you agree?"
"True, but I'd rather not waste time scheming." he replies, drawing the ebony sword that he'd replaced Derflinger with.
Nelacar sighs sadly while drawing his own weapon, a sickle-like blade that ominously shimmers in the light. Along with a staff in his other hand. "I'd rather not fight you, Michael. We should focus on the truly evil enemies before fighting each other."
"Yeah, probably." he says, pointing a finger at Nelacar and casting, "Laguna Blade."
*CRAACK!*
*ZWING!*
Nelacar swings the curved blade before Michael finishes his words, allowing him to bring it up in an attempt to block the powerful lightning bolt. Michael's surprised as the bolt splits into two and arcs off in two random directions upon contacting the blade as if it'd sliced the lightning in two... "I'm not as weak as last time. Don't take me lightly!" he exclaims, jabbing his staff at Michael.
*CHIIING!*
Two portals to Oblivion open up, allowing two harpy things to fly out and towards Michael... Michael knew them to be Winged Twilights from his research on the Daedra, but that wasn't any help in knowing their weaknesses, aside from the usual method of killing.
"For the Twilight Lady!" the Daedra screech as they attempt to run Michael through with their large talons.
Michael just ignores them, using Blink Strike to appear behind Nelacar before driving his sword through the man's back.
"HIgghk!..." Nelacar looks down at the blade protruding from his chest and gives despairing choked coughs, "S-still... Not... Enough..." he lets his weapons go and drops to his knees, his conjured Daedra dissipating. He tries to suck in some more air to say a few words, but fails as life quickly leaves his eyes.
*Shiiik!*
Michael withdraws his weapon, shaking it off before sheathing it. "Bastard, making me feel bad..." he mutters, before shaking his head and reaffirming his determination. He bends over and tries to pick up the curved weapon but finds it dissipating in his hand, as per Hircine's rules.
Any Daedric artifact collected by the champions would be granted to their Prince, this was primarily to encourage offensive tactics, as opposed to sitting around waiting for everyone to kill each other so you could pick up the pieces afterwards.
"One down, fourteen more to go..."
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Over in Markarth, things weren't going so well...
Arean, the Champion of Molag Bal had quickly entered Markarth with the intent to protect the shrine against the other Champions that were undoubtedly on their way. Only to realise his mistake when both civilians and guards back away at his appearance.
While it was still nighttime and would continue to be so for the duration of the Hunt, they could all see his dimly glowing red eyes and forsworn armour, along with the horrific mace sitting on his hip. His hurry in defending the shrine had made him forget to disguise himself...
"Forsworn scum! You dare enter this place so brazenly!?" a guard angrily shouts while approaching with sword drawn, only to have their brain splattered onto the floor as Arean slams the mace against his head.
Arean looks around at the horrified crowd and licks the blood from his mace, afterwards baring his fangs at them, "ANYONE ELSE WISH TO CHALLENGE ME!?"
The few Markarth guards look at one another before nodding and charging straight at him, "DIE MONSTER!"
Arean utilises his superior skill and vampiric strength to quickly tear apart the guards, the mace weakening the enemy with each strike, and empowering Arean with each soul it devours. This is all enhanced by his heritage as a vampire, of course, making him even more dangerous.
unbeknownst to him, a man who'd seen the entire thing runs off to the mines, specifically, towards the prison where the King in Rags awaits...
The night of the Blood Moon would be far more destructive than Hircine could have ever anticipated... Not that he cared, a few insects getting stomped on during a hunt for larger prey mattered not.
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Niggross
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