As Abberon and the Vigilant Tyranus headed into the empty house, the first thing the two noticed was that, despite being an abandoned home, it looked like it had been recently lived in. “Fresh food. No wood rot on the furniture. Someone’s been here. Recently.” Tyranus continued to inspect the living arrangements of the house. “But the people I asked say no one enters or leaves….”
Abberon chimed in, eager to find out if there really was Daedra worshipping going on in this home. “Perhaps they were too scared of getting involved in any Daedra business?” Abberon had still been disguised as a Vigilant, so when he first spoke to Tyranus he came to him as a fellow of lower rank. He offered his help, and the two of them prepared to confront the possible owner of this house.
Suddenly there was a noise. “Wait. Did you hear that? I think it came this way.” The two continued further into the home. Past the door into the next area, a bottle of wine flew across the room. They were both sure of it. There were Daedric forces about. “That’s it. Something’s inside this house. Come on, we’re getting to the bottom of this.” They continued deeper into the home, searching for any signs of a ringleader or a puppet master pulling the strings on whatever’s going on with the house. “Come out! We know you’re here!” Tyranus was on a hunt for Daedra, and nothing would stop his wrath.
Finally they came across a door, however it seemed locked. Abberon tried to force it open, but with no success. “Ngghhh! Nope, that door’s not budging anytime soon.”
“Let’s keep at it. There must be something going on from the other side of this door!” And thus, Tyranus began to assist. As they tried to get the door open, however, the two of them felt an eerie force, a malevolent aura which sent shivers down their spine. At the same time, the lights around them flickered and bent, as if under control of a spectral force. The overwhelming pressure began to get to Tyranus. “Stendarr’s Mercy! This isn’t an ordinary Daedra. We have to get help!”
He began to flee, with Abberon close behind. While the surrounding force was strong, it had piqued his interests greatly. He would definitely return at some point, whether the other Vigilant was with him or not.
“Weeak. He is weak. You are strong. Crush him!”
As the voice’s command echoed in his head, Abberon suddenly felt a sense of terror in his soul. This was not like the thoughts or words in his head. These words were someone else’s. A greater being. He felt anxious, and yet he also felt compelled to fulfil the demand, as if he’d felt a revelation from a long lost god. But that can’t be right. The gods had long since abandoned us. But if that’s the case, who could this be? Regardless, once they reached the door, Tyranus bid him to go first. Abberon stood in front of the doorway, seemingly deep in thought. “What are you waiting for? We’ve got to move. Now!”
“Tyranus… We have a big problem over here…” Abberon lied, pointing to the door handle.
“What? What problem?” As Tyranus leaned in to inspect the doorknob, Abberon suddenly took his hand to the back of his head and sent it straight into the knob. Then, while the Vigilant was dazed, he took his mace and pulverized his skull. Within seconds, Tyranus lay dead, his head a bloodied mess that stained his clothes.
“Yes. Your reward is waiting for you, mortal. Further down…” Having stripped the dead Vigilant of his stronger robes, Abberon headed further into the home, all the while questioning the most necessary questions. What was that voice that commanded him to kill? And what force could exert such a dominating aura? As he headed deeper and deeper into the home, the voice continued to beckon him. “So close. Your prize is waiting…” Eventually Abberon would reach a hole within the home. he stood upon a wicked altar. Upon the altar, a floating rusted mace. As Abberon went to take it, spikes suddenly shot up from the floor, trapping him. Surprised, he froze in place, as the voice began to speak.
“Fool. Did you think Molag Bal, the Lord of Domination, would so easily reward you…?” As the voice spoke its name, Abberon felt even more paler than normal. Molag Bal, a Daedric Prince. Such a terrifying creature had him in his grasp. At his mercy. But he knew that there was none. No mercy. Not from a Prince. Molag Bal continued. “What do you see from that little cage…? Speak!”
Through the shaken state he was, Abberon managed to get the words out of his mouth. “I...It…It’s an altar…”
“Yeees, it’s an altar. Men would come and sacrifice the wretched in my name. The weak would be punished by the strong.” He continued. “But a Daedric Lord has his enemies, and my rival Boethiah had her priest desecrate the altar. Until you came…”
Abberon’s heart may have skipped a beat at those words, if it were still beating. “………M…me?”
“Yees. You. “ The spikes that surrounded him fell back to their dormancy as Molag Bal continued. “I want submission. I want the priest who did this to bend his knee and give me his soul. He comes by to perform Boethiah’s insulting rites at my altar, but he’s been missing. Captured and bound. Left to rot. Save him. Let him perform his rite one more time. And when he does, we will be waiting for him…”
As he finished, his presence began to fade from the area. Abberon stood there for a moment, shaken to his very core. He fell to his knees and simply stared at the altar for a good minute, absorbing everything that had just transpired.
Then he laughed. He laughed a maddening laughter that echoed in the cave and deep into the home itself. He laughed a laugh of utter insanity that could drive the most steeled men to shake and shudder. To close their ears to the wickedness that threatened to invade their minds and haunt them for eternity. As he laughed, he looked onto the altar, and to the rusted mace. “THEY SPOKE!! THEY SPOKE TO ME!! THEY SPOKE TO ME!!” He continued to repeat it as he ran out of the house and out of Markarth, eager to fulfil Molag Bal’s desires.
Character Profile Here: http://tamrielvault.com/group/role-playing/forum/topics/profile-abberon-the-dark-sovereign
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