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Daedra cultists

Started by Iogairn
Post #19577

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Ebonheart Pact
Previous: A Game of Chance Volume V

As Iogairn pulled his leg out of the snow to lunge for the next step, he thought to himself that going up the Jerrall Mountains in winter was not one of his better ideas. Still, there was a need for a way out of Cyrodiil. After all, he was still a wanted man. Having walked from Chorrol north, past Bruma to Skyrim, he had hoped to get to the mountains before the winter came. He grimaced. Suddenly, a shape appeared. Squinting his eyes to see past the snow, Iogairn started towards it. It was a cave, a small mining shaft, long abandoned. He gave a sigh of relief as he pulled the hood down and entered the cave. Getting out of the snow was a relief but he needed warmth. He grimaced as he tried to start a fire as his fingers were numb from the cold. Rubbing them, blowing them, tucking them under his arms, nothing seemed to work. After sitting for about fifteen minutes with his hands underneath his arms, he got bored and decided to walk down the cave. Maybe it’ll be warmer down there, he thought. But not ten seconds walking could he hear chanting.

“We praise you, Lord Dagon, Prince of Destruction, Lord of Ambition, Ruler of Change!” a voice echoed through the cavern. Iogairn froze. Daedra worshipers. Crazy ones too. He walking forward a few more steps he saw a red light. He hurried over, not only to see the light, but to see a temple below him. He looked right and saw a host of cloaked figures, standing before an alter, where a man, dressed in slightly more ornate clothing, held his arms outstretched. “You are the true lord of Mundus, the Inheritor of Nirn, the Saviour of all Peoples!” Mara, Iogairn thought, this guy is full of himself. At least he’s harmless. “To you, In return for your favour, we present a sacrifice!” He gestured and two acolytes brought forward a struggling figure. Iogairn peered out from behind a rock. It was a girl, in her teens. Gods, he thought, they actually believe the whole maiden crap. But as the girl was laid upon the alter he realised he needed to do something. But there were too many to fight. The knife was raised. Thinking up a desperate plan he shouted,
“STOP IN THE NAME OF LORD DAGON!” acolytes started and a lot of murmuring could be heard. He peered over. The knife was hovering. The chief priest looked confused.
“But… why Lord Dagon?” he stammered. Iogairn sighed with annoyance. If a daedric prince told you to do something, you did it. Maybe he should smite him for being sacrilegious. Not that he could but still…
“SHE HAS BEEN CHOSEN FOR A PURPOSE! NOW RELEASE HER!” The priest paused for a bit, before backing away from the altar. The girl got up nervously and walked across the temple as the murmuring increased. When she was just below the stairs where Iogairn was he hissed to her. She turned round and Iogairn beckoned to her, a finger on his lips to tell her to be quiet. But when she had reached him the priest shouted. “Lord Dagon, we humbly your forgiveness. We had no indication that she was …chosen. Please, show us how to… reveal a chosen one” Oh bloody hell. Well at least he could have some fun.
“VERY WELL. IN ORDER FOR YOU TO REVEAL THE CHOSEN OF LORD DAGON, THE RIGHT HAND OF THE PRINCE OF DESTRUCTION, THE SWORD OF AMBITION INCARNATE,” he was enjoying this. He saw the girl roll her eyes. No doubt she thought her saviour would be a knight in shining armour, not a stupid bastard like Iogairn. Still he better continue, “THOU MUST STAND UPON ONE LEG AND STICK THY TONGUE OUT. PRACTISE NOW!” he looked on as mindless cultists made fools of themselves. He couldn’t help laughing. The girl tugged on his arms, no doubt impatient to get away. Youths today, he thought, have no sense of humour. Then the tugging became urgent. Iogairn’s eyes widened. Oh bugg-
“Desecraters!” a shriek from behind. More cultists must have arrived from the cave mouth. He whirled around and struck his dagger in the cultist’s neck before making a run for the cave mouth. But there were a dozen cultists there. As one they raised there hand in the air and bound armour consumed them. He swore. He ran back to the temple, only to see more cultists in bound armour running up the stairs. He wildly looked left and right. He saw a passageway.
“Come on!” he shouted to the girl. They ran down the cavern. Then the inevitable occurred. They hit a dead end.

Iogairn swore. He swore again. And again. And again, kicking the wall this time. As the light from the torches drew closer, he drew his sword. “Get behind me.” He murmured to the girl, trying to put on a confident smile. It came out as a grimace. The first cultist came running at him, swinging a mace with a forehand. Iogairn ducked under it and brought his sword along the cultist’s stomach, then stepped forward and plunged it into the next cultist’s face. As he kicked the body into the next cultist, he heard the girl shout
“Hey!” She had found a lever. Iogairn laughed. They might just live after all. She pulled on the lever causing the wall to rumble and pull up. They ran out, with Iogairn turning to throw a dagger at the next cultist to buy time. Finally they saw light. They burst into the snow and wind, which now seemed like a blessing. They ran down the mountain laughing hysterically, the lack of Oxygen making them delirious. But the cultists were closing in on them. One of them jumped down in front of Iogairn. Iogairn kicked the stupid bugger in the chest and continued running. Until he heard a rumbling. He stopped, fear spread on his face. So had the cultists.
“What are you doing?” the girl shrieked. Iogairn just ignored her. Deep breaths. Then he saw movement at the top of the mountain. “Avalanche!” he shouted. The cultists screamed. The girl screamed. Then the wall of snow hit them.
Cold. Pain. Fear. All these feelings passed through him. Then he realised something; he wasn’t dead. He spat and watched as the saliva trickled down his face. He was facing upward then. With a huge heave he pushed himself out of the snow. He peered out. His eyes hurt. Actually, everything hurt. Seeing the girls arm sticking out of the snow, he rushed over and dug her out. She coughed herself conscious. Iogairn was relieved. He looked around. This wasn’t Bruma; this was Falkreath. He’d got to the other side of the mountains via a shortcut.

After making sure the lass was in safe hands in the nearby village (she didn’t live there, but they’d take care of her), Iogairn walked the path to Markarth. Maybe some of his relatives were still there. As he walked, he pondered. It was extremely lucky to survive an avalanche, especially one that got rid of his pursuers. Maybe the divines liked a heretic. Who knows? He was so deep in his thoughts he didn’t notice the mist. Well, until he walked into a tree. Iogairn shook himself off, trying to regain any lost dignity, and looked around for any witnesses. Thankfully, the forest was quiet. This was odd, come to think of it. Maybe the winter had scared them off. He could write a song about that; The Death of Winter.
“Oh so close” Iogairn whipped round, drawing his sword. Seeing that he’d over-reacted he put the sword back in the sheath and turned back- “Yes, don’t make a fool of yourself.” He froze. The voice was unlike anything he’d ever heard. It was sly, old, malevolent all at once.
“Who are you?” he asked the wind. A chuckle
“You really do not know me, mortal? Even after you have impersonated me?” Iogairn gasped.
“Mehrunes Dagon?” he asked, drawing his sword, knowing he had a right. “Oh put it away. If I wanted to kill you I would have. Did you not think it was strange that an avalanche saved you?
” “But they were your servants.” Again, a cold laugh.
“Fools, every one of them. But you, you are cunning. And your power-“
“How did you know about that?” Iogairn demanded. It was bad enough a Daedra spoke to you, never mind them knowing everything about your life. Especially the one thing that he had tried to keep hidden.
“I have watched you, seeing your potential and knowing, that one day, you will serve me.” Iogairn drew himself up.
“I serve no man, elf or God!” he said forcefully, knowing that he sounded petulant, but nobody compromised his beliefs.
“We shall see.” Iogairn raised an eyebrow.
“Oh, we will, will we?” But the voice was gone, and he looked like an idiot. He shrugged and carried on. And a bird started singing.

Next: A Man of the Reach? Volume i
This post was last modified: August 25th 2013, 01:29 PM by Iogairn

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night
Rage, Rage Against the Dying of the Light

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Post #22978

Likes Given: 21
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Faction & Race:
Ebonheart Pact (Dunmer)
I really like this story.
It has good pacing, humour I particularly like the way it ends.
The cave you used was the one from the main quest in Oblivion was it not?
I could almost see that dungeon again when I read about it, very well done.

Tam! RUGH!
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