Into Oblivion

30

The bleeding sun rose across the lakes of lava awakening the brooding souls of the Daedra who stalked across the terrain aimlessly. Neither Clannfear nor Dremora could sleep in fear for their own lives. Commander Broga—the strongest of them all—had failed Mehrunes Dagon so miserably that he had been beaten to an inch of his life. What hope did they have to recapture the scholar or even Martin Septim himself? Their faith spiraled through the depths of their minds being overcome by darkness. A few Daedra had collected in a courtyard conversing silently with each other. Suddenly, from the entrance of the yard they had seen a messenger. His face was grave with disappointment and fear. He carried within his grey claws a single golden scroll. His eyes shifted across the yard and he entered the scene hastily giving not a glance to his brethren.

The crowd of Daedra watched him pass with scowls creasing over their faces. They heard his thumping heart and the aroma of fear lingered upon his presence. What worse news could be told to Lord Dagon? The grand onyx doors to Dagon's temple were thrusted open and the messenger disappeared within its embrace traveling quickly. His worn boots trekked across the limestone ever so softly hoping not to interrupt a council meeting; if there was one. The messenger's eyes lifted across the parapets of stone which loomed many yards into the air disappearing and finally reappearing near the spider-like glass of the dome that loomed overhead. This dome showed the great crimson sky whose colors ran like blood. Flashes of lightning and roars of thunder echoed throughout these heavens making the messenger move even faster. He came to the Council Chamber's doors and without thinking he intruded. When he had stalked into the large courtroom he heard the council members fall silent. Dagon's heated black eyes befell the little messenger and without even looking to his Prince, the Dremora tromped over to a council member and handed him the letter. His dark mahogany eyes lifted and his hoarse voice finally spoke. That identical grave look hindered any other emotion besides dread, "... A correspondence from Dremora Kathutet from Mankar's Paradise. He had been resurrected in the Plane of Havoc."

Hidden behind the crimson cowl, the Dremora had frowned. The messenger bowed respectfully and quickly fled the scene for he knew he didn't want to stay to see the reaction to the letter. The councilmember had stood up and unfurled the scroll, his silver eyes soon skimming the daedric symbols. His eyes widened and he slowly read aloud for he could tell that Dagon's curious eyes were upon him;

"Upon the fiftenteeth of the fifth month, morning rise of the third star the Champion of Cyrodiil had approached the path to receive the Bands of the Chosen. His quest was to find and slay Mankar Camoran. As you may tell from my resurrection I had been slain along with all my brothers who were within the realm. Mankar Camoran, Raven Camoran, and Ruma Camoran had been slain upon the final hours of the day. Paradise had been destroyed and..." the Dremora stopped for a second to lower the scroll from his frightened face. He swallowed a lump in his throat as he had finished the sentence, "... the Amulet of Kings is in the hands of the Champion."

A thundering roar shattered through the walls sending dust to flutter through the thick atmosphere. The strident call had echoed out into the heavens causing the thunder to cower before it. The windows of the temple shattered easily and many eardrums were shattered as well sending rolls of blood to slide from the citizens' ears. Pillars crumbled and lava boiled with the heated fury of Mehrunes Dagon the Prince of Destruction. The council fell to their knees pleading for their Prince to show them mercy. They cried loudly and some screamed seeing the walls on the verge of collapsing upon them. Dagon had shattered the limestone throne and now he stood with his jagged onyx horns nearly piercing the top of his temple. One of his gargantuan hands had seized the hefty and very terrifying battleaxe from his side, soon ripping it from its sheath. His jagged teeth gritted together and with a thunderous voice he summoned a guard to fetch him the only capable man who knew the terrain of Tamriel.