The Daedric Princes who still had Champions remaining continued to observe the 'Hunt', though, a few weren't satisfied with how things were going. Mehrune's Dagon in particular due to the fact that his Champion, Silus, had been enthralled by Vaermina's Champion, Erandur.
"THAT DISGUSTING WEAKLING! HOW DARE HE FAIL ME AFTER ALL I'VE GRANTED HIM! HE'LL BURN FOREVER WHEN HIS SOUL RETURNS TO ME!" the Daedric lord roars in fury, ignoring the other Princes who were watching his tantrum.
"Perhaps you shouldn't have tortured him until his mind broke then, maybe then he wouldn't have been so easy to influence." Vaermina remarks.
Dagon growls at her and points a fanged finger at her face, "Speak not of this to me, you hypocritical harpy! YOUR OWN CHAMPION LACKS EVEN HIS OWN THOUGHTS, HE IS LESS THAN EVEN AN UNDEAD, YET YOU SPOUT EMPTY PLATITUDES!?"
"These are not the same thing. You broke your Champion, while I improved mine. There is no weakness to be found in Erandur, perhaps a lack of creativity or initiative, but I think it will be enough to win the day." Vaemina says.
"I am surprised that Boethiah's Champion bested Hermaeus Mora's. I had half a thought to ban those Black Books of his, as they act as a direct portal to his own realm..." Hircine states as he looks upon the victorious Karakis.
"Yes, well, while he lacks cunning or ambition, he makes a good tool for now. Though, if we wish to speak about Champions, let's address yours, Hircine. If he's even your Champion in the first place." Boethiah retorts speculatively.
"And what do you mean by that, 'Sister'?" the Lord of the Hunt inquires.
Boethiah hums in thought, "This, 'World-Hopper' doesn't seem to worship you, nor does he care to honour you judging y his reluctant to collect our artifacts for you, he barely adheres to the rules you put in place... One might think that he's a last-minute addition to secure your victory in this. This can't be however, as that would be quite treacherous and unsportsmanlike..." she trails off as the other Princes glare at Hircine.
"That boy does seem slightly too strong." Sanguine murmurs, uncaring of the fact that Mephala's Champion had stolen the Ring of Namira that should rightfully be his.
"Bah! Strong!? He merely cleaned up what was left of Malacath's Champion after he'd fought Molag Bal's vampire and Meridia's Vigilant!" Dagon says.
"We should even the odds then." Clavicus interjects, "Your boy's artifact allows him to hunt our Champions down one by one. Hardly fair for this Hunt."
"Indeed." Mephala agrees, knowing that her own Champion stood no chance if they could easily be tracked by Hircine's artifact.
"Then what do you suggest, Clavicus? Lest I remind you that your own Champion technically possesses two artifacts of their own." Hircine retorts.
Clavicus laughs, "That Chain hardly counts as an artifact, if we were making claims like that then we should have your Champion remove all of that Ebony Armour and go into battle with but a loin-cloth... As for my thought on this Hunt? We should stop making our Champions wander around aimlessly while waiting to get ambushed by the World-Hopper, and put them somewhere to have a proper deathmatch!"
Boethiah nods, "Agreed, that would actually make this worth watching."
Hircine lets out a disgruntled huff, "That would turn this Hunt into nothing but an arena show-match!"
"Let it be, Hircine. It's either this or we find some other way to even the odds." Dagon threatens with a fanged grin.
...
Hircine looks over each Champion and eventually nods, he was confident in Michael's ability to win, it just didn't sit well with him to alter the Hunt. Sure, if everyone was in agreement then no rules would be breached, but that didn't mean he liked it.
"Let Clavicus' Champion fight Boethiah's, then we'll discuss entering the 'End-Game'." he states, with everyone else nodding.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Unfortunately for Boethiah, Karakis is first met by Ulfric Stormcloak and his large retinue an hour or so after killing Laverius, his body was tired and his throat was raw from the Thu'um he'd been forced to use...
Ulfric and his men stop their horses a good distance away from Karakis, knowing full well how deadly the Champion was with Boethiah's Ebony Mail. "Hold there Daedra worshipping scum! For murdering innocent Stormcloak men and women, along with destroying the goods they carried, you will be sentenced to death!" Galmar shouts, addressing the tired-looking Karakis.
The Champion just smiles however, this was exactly what he'd wanted... Now he was face to face with Ulfric Stormcloak and his generals. Whether he wins or loses, it would be a battle to write about, perhaps they'd sing of him like Ragnar the Red? "Ulfric Stormcloak! Just who I was waiting for! Have you finally come to accept my challenge!? To fight as an honourable Nord should!?"
Ulfric shakes his head, "There is no honour to be found in a fight against you, a Daedra's lapdog would only know to grovel and beg for false power." he gestures dismissively at the man, "Even now you challenge me while wearing that Daedra-cursed armour. Have you no shame!?"
Karakis pauses and looks down at his armour, his face morphing into one of regret and barely concealed anger. He thinks for a moment before finally deciding his own fate. "And if I were to rid myself of the armour, would you accept my challenge? My goal is Sovngarde, and I believe you're the one to send me there."
...
His words cause a small commotion through the Stormcloaks. Before, everything considered Karakis to be a traitorous dog of evil gods, but now? They were beginning to see him as a pitiful Nord trying to regain his honour. This, of course, was not something Ulfric could ignore.
"Rid yourself of that armour and I'll fight you. Let it be known that redemption, while difficult, is never impossible." Ulfric states.
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Karakis was unaware of Boethiah screaming in anger at his stupidity as he began taking his armour off. The evil Daedric Prince kept soundlessly threatening to destroy his soul should he be the only Champion to die against something that wasn't another Champion.
Alas, the Champion of Beothiah was unable to hear her, the Hunt's rules clearly dictating that communication between the Champions and their Patrons was forbidden. The other Daedric Lords were getting a good laugh out of the situation however, watching as Karakis stripped to a loincloth and revealed his thoroughly poisoned body.
Now that he was without his armour, Karakis was already feeling the effects of the poison that'd infested his body. He doubted he'd like more than ten minutes like this, but, that was all he needed. "It is done, let us end this, Ulfric Stormcloak."
Ulfric unclips his war axe from his belt and gets down from his horse, "Your body is sickly." he remarks, his trailing along the terrible-looking black veins covering Karakis' body.
The Champion nods, "It is, but I can still fight, as I have proven against a number of your men already. Avenge them, Ulfric Stormcloak, and send me on my way." he states, readying his battle axe.
"As you wish, Pawn of Daedra." he says, waiting for Karakis to make the first move.
"It's Karakis, if you must call me anything, 'my liege'." he says as he takes a lunge forward while widely swinging his battle axe.
Ulfric backs up and avoids it before stepping back in for a counterattack, "Nord or not. Redemption of not. You have butchered many men and women this foul night, men and women who had families waiting for them. Know that if you reach Sovngarde, they'll be waiting for you, along with the heavy judgement of Shor." he says as he clips Karaki's arm with his axe, drawing blackish blood from the Champion.
Karakis ignores the wound while attempting a heavy downward attack, only for Ulfric to stop to the side while parrying it, the Jarl slamming his armoured foot into the Champion's hip, forcing him away. "I'd be honoured if I reached Sovngarde at all... Now, I want to see your true strength, Ulfric Stormcloak! WULD!"
Ulfric is taken slightly aback as Karakis form suddenly darts forwards, axe ready to take his head off. Fortunately, he's able to retaliate with a shout of his own, "FUS!"
The Unrelenting Force shout manages to force Karakis attack away, allowing the Jarl some reprieve as the Champion backs away to prepare another Shout. "THIS IS IT ULFRIC! LET US FIGHT AS THE DRAGONS DID MILLENIA AGO!"
"As if you are worthy of such a comparison." Ulfric retorts.
Karakis lets out a low chuckle, and is about to charge again when he and Ulfric notice the other Stormcloaks turn to look at something.
Over in the distance, they spot a short figure wearing a horned metal mask approaching on horseback, staff in hand.
Karakis scowls, "Quick, let us end this, before Clavicus' servant gets a chance." he earnestly says, honestly wishing to die at Ulfric's hand as opposed to Charlotte's. Karakis gives a loud bellow as he charges Ulfric, battle axe raised high for a final attack... But is completely taken off guard as Ulfric speaks his next word.
"YOL!"
A blast of fire envelopes Karakis, sending his blackened burning body into the snowy ground below as it seizes and writhes in agony. The man takes a few seconds to actually expire despite feeling his brain melt within his skull.
"May you find your path to redemption." Ulfric solemnly says as he turns away to avoid the searing smell of burning flesh. "Galmar, Wuunferth, do you know anything of the one that approaches?"
Galmar shakes his head, but Wuunferth gives a short nod, "They wear the Masque of Clavicus Vile. It allows the user's words to enthral those who hear them. Be wary, my Jarl."
Ulfric nods, "Clavicus Vile, the one who claimed Azure's lands in Elsweyr... What are those damned gods planning?" he mutters as he positions himself in front of his retinue, axe at the ready.
The ruler of Windhelm is taken slightly off-guard however as Charlotte completely ignores him, instead walking over to the Ebony Mail sitting on the ground and touching it, causing it to vanish somewhere unknown.
Then, she begins walking away, completely uninterested in the small army gathered nearby... Ulfric's about to address her when a portal encompasses her, taking her somewhere else.
...
"A Daedric lap-dog who doesn't immediately start slaughtering... I'm not sure if I like that change." Galmar remarks from the side.
Ulfric gives a shrug, "Better if Clavicus Vile's servant pisses off to another Province, particularly the Summerset Isles, but, we all know even Daedra wouldn't stand being around the elves for long."
"Hah! Aye to that!"
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Earlier :
Michael had spent around three hours now just hunting for a Champion around Falkreath, yet they seemed to be running away from him for some reason. They always knew his location, and even when he teleported in front of them with a Dimension Gate, they seemed to be aware of his plans then as well!
Thankfully though, it seems that he wouldn't have to search for much longer, as he'd back his quarry up against the mountains south of Skyrim which would lead into Cyrodil should you travel over them.
The Champion was nowhere near as good as him at traversing such terrain however, quickly allowing him to catch up to them, the smell of blood intensified the closer he got. And finally, he'd caught the fool standing on the edge of a large cliff, the Morag Tong assassin was warily looking at him with their glass dagger drawn.
"You've had me running around like a dog chasing its tail, so if you've got any last words, don't fucking bother!" he grumpily says while firing a Laguna Blade at his target... Only for them to somehow dodge it...
"Wait, what?" he mutters as the enemy continues to stand there, as if they'd not just dodged a point-blank lightning bolt as if it were nothing.
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