The Elder Scrolls

Veloth had undertaken quite the quest for the people of Maar Gan, it wasn't every day you were asked to capture a dremora for someone. Capture, not kill. The long list of unsuccessful hadn't bothered the gaunt dunmer, he'd hardly batted an eye when they'd told him these facts. The price was handsome, enough gold to fund his research for a few more years, worry free. Their skepticism had his appearance showed, but he wasn't out to impress those fools.

Swathed in long, sand-colored robes, the ashlander rode upon his elegant steed; a strange beast not full kagouti or alit, but a hybridized version of the two. She carried a pair of satchels besides her master across the back, brimming wtih supplies. When they reached the Shrine, Veloth was a mad man, muttering to himself as he dashed carefully about the shrine. A few followers within the gave him dirty looks though he paid them no mind as he darted about. "Just what do you think you're doing?" demanded one of the men as the conjurer strode to the alter.

"You'd better leave," he suggested after a few moments, his voice the rough sand-stricken sort common of dunmer from the red mountain. Scratching at his beard, he set a few wards on the ground, faintly gleaming puke-grey magicka sparkling from them. "Now," he growled in a pleased whisper, lifting a modest bottle of mead from the altar and setting it down. There was hardly a moment for the followers to react outside of an angered cry - they knew what was coming.

No sooner had the bottle of mead been moved from the offering platform had the lights dimmed down in the shrine. There was silence from the followers and then the scuffling of feet and crashing of things falling over as they scrambled to escape up the stairs, as they knew what was coming.

In the darkness of the shrine two molten eyes would be all that lit the center of the room. A low, foreboding growl echoed through the hall along with the grating sound of a jagged daedric sword being drawn. A string of daedric was roared as the dremora charged forwards into the green light with his sword held high in both hands, an accurate, cleaving swing was made for Veloth's neck.

Veloth was surprisingly quick for such a frail-looking old dunmer, spells were coming full swing from the man; night-eye, calm, drain strength, increase resistance to fire. Not all the spells were necessarily helpful, but at the rate he was casting it wouldn't really matter. The true test for this was to see how well the wards worked and with his magicka almost fully drained from the medley of spells, he took a breath and slipped a hand into the pouch, grabbing a heavy pair of dark bracers.

They held a swirling aura of powerful magic on them, certainly an enchantment on them of only the strongest sort and one of the few things Veloth had been unable to do for himself. Nothing but the best for this task, however, and it was his great pleasure to surge forward when Tarik hit the edge of the ward. This critical moment depended on whether he was paralyzed by the power and the ashlander could slip the bracers on. Barring that, death would surely be swift.

The Dremora Lord roared with frustration as the evasive little mortal darted away, casting a flurry of spells upon him that calmed the boiling blood inside him just slightly, but worse it made his arms weaken, though not enough for him to drop his sword. The sword drooped to his side abruptly however as he charged forwards.

Foot struck the ward on the ground and immediately the paralysis shot up through the base of his feet but by sheer will the Dremora tried to swing both his fists up at Veloth's face in an attempt to knock him back as hard as possible, if he could resist the paralysis long enough. Otherwise he would simply go still on impact and then gradually fall over onto his front with a horrible clatter of armor and sword.

It was a horrible disappointment to miss, but Veloth had little time to worry about that trouble. Grunting from the fist that crashed into his high cheekbone, he staggered away. Pain blossomed, but he managed to keep his wits, "Tina!" The creature he'd rode in on came charging from the depths of the hall on his command, bellowing ferociously as she spotted the dremora and he master.

It took but a moment for her to realize her order, charging the armored dremora as he clattered noisily to the ground. Here her weight was put atop him while Veloth scrambled to gather up his bracers again. The paralysis would last but so long, a minute for any normal person but with these daedra you could never be sure how long until they shook it off. "Hah," he growled, fierce with intent to capture.

The dremora was able to make no sound as the beast charged him, unable to even swivel his eyes to get a better look at it, but in his peripheral vision it seemed large enough.

When it sat upon him he started to feel the numbness in his body turn to painful tingling and his fingers shifted. By sheer will he started to flex his feet and his hands, eyes moved to watch Veloth's progress.

He growled and continued to flex as much as he could beneath the crushing weight of the hybrid monster until Veloth would come close enough. With a great bellow of rage the Dremora would pick the perfect moment to put all his remaining strength, having been sapped rather terribly by the wizard's magic and paralysis, into throwing the beast off and hopefully in the direction of her master. But if he should fail he would once again collapse under her, breathless and tired beyond what he was used to.

Veloth had little time to react, with Tarik twitching so violently despite Tina's added weight on his back. He had a moment of horror when she was rolled off him before the cuffs could be slapped down onto the dremora. The beast rolled over top of him, flattening the dunmer before she landed on her feet behind, shaking her head dazedly.

Her master was worse off, groaning softly as something in his torso cracked from her weight. Now was not the time to give up, he weakly shifted, struggling to get away. He managed to pull the top off on a bottle of magicka replenisher, gulping it hurriedly while setting another ward - and another. Tina bellowed once more, turning round with a grunt and charging the dremora with the intent to impale him on one of her great tusks.

The Dremora saw an opening as he stood and the beast charged him. He didn't need all his strength, he could simply use hers against her. He redirected her path as he grabbed one horn and then pushed downwards.

With little warning the Dremora brought his knee down hard on the top of Veloth's beloved beasts skull in an attempt to crack it and kill the monstrosity "Die!" he roared in garbled, furious daedric tone.

Veloth let out a soft wail upon seeing Tina taken down. The poor beast hardly knew what hit her as she was slammed into the ground, the end was quick for her. Skull split, her body spasmed gently under the furious dremora's knee before giving up altogether. It was the sort of gruesome end the dunmer hated to see become of his creature. Heaving himself to his feet, magicka restored, he drew from the depths of his ability, conjuring an intimidating-looking Daedroth if he could.

The way Tarik's eyes shifted from the beast to the Daedroth suggested that he was surprised, but not afraid. Fear was felt among dremora, but never expressed.

He took a step back to brace himself, knowing that his strength was still depleted from the lingering spell that had struck him. A rallying cry was given, if only to rally himself before he charged forwards and with a great heave he used his body weight to spin and swing the sword for the Daedroth's throat, or failing that, it's chest. Trying to get the first strike in before the beast could gain the momentum they were so famous for.

The daedroth hardly batted an eye as he was conjured, taking a moment to assess the situation before he was attacked by his fellow daedra. Tarik's swords met his arm, taking a small slash but ultimately bashing the brunt of it away. With a fiercesome roar he followed the sword back to its master, skull meeting skull in a blood headbashing show of brute strength. Veloth, teeth set in a pleased grimace, snatched up his bracer for what he hoped would be the last attempt at catching the damned daedra, a modest speed-increasing potion hopefully ensuring it.

The Dremora had no time to react as the Daedroth's much thicker skull connected with his. The world around him went black, although he didn't entirely lose consciousness immediately he still couldn't see more than a blur of shadows against the dim light of the room.

His heavy, armor clad body hit the floor with an almighty clang and the Dremora lay on his back with his eyes open but glazed over and staring blankly up at the ceiling of Rammimilk and the underside of Molag Bal's chin. He'd be easy enough to shackle now, there was no fight.

Veloth watched quietly as the creature he'd conjured neatly finished off the dremora. He let his eyes drift onto his dead animal, sighing in disappointment before he slapped the bracers on Tarik; binding him to the dunmer. He pulled at a health potion while the daedroth rose to gather the satchels that Tina carried, collecting the few items he'd left.

The ashlander took his time letting the potion work through him, easing the pain of his wounds. Such a frail mage was not fit for this sort of violence. "Now," he said at length, crackling voice filling the void of silence, "Get up and carry those bags. We've got a long journey to take by foot."

Tarik lay on his back long after the bracers had been put on him, though his eyes stayed open with the determination that he wouldn't lose consciousness. And while the Dunmer healed, the soreness in the Dremora's head slowly eased until his vision cleared.

Compulsion bound his actions as Veloth commanded his newly bound soul. With a venomous growl the Dremora Lord slowly pushed himself up to his feet and stood stiffly as he tried to resist picking up the satchels and sacks but with one final urge he grabbed what he could into his arms and walked heavily to stand behind the man.

"Release me mortal!" he roared furiously and bared his teeth from behind the heaps of sacks and satchels in his arms.

Veloth didn't even bat an eye in Tarik's direction, sorting out the modest satchel he carried on his hip. Patting Tina's chest one last time as he took in the gruesome demise, the dunmer said his goodbyes and lead the way out into a light sandstorm. There were one or two of the pilgrims still lingering around the shrine, shocked by his return and turning tail when the dremora would follow him out. "Ugh," he grunted hoarsely, "I'm an old man, I don't need to be walking around like this." Tarik was an annoyance for this reason, but Veloth couldn't exactly fault the creature - it was their nature and duty to kill, after all. He would simply have to take his pleasure selling him when they arrived in Maar Gan.

Tarik growled as they exited the shrine, squinting into the pale red storm that struck his face with biting force. "Where are you taking me? What is the purpose of this, vermin?" he hissed, rage burning so boldly that the daedric runes on his face even managed to emit a light glow.

"You have angered Molag Bal, and Mehrunes Dagon. The princes will see to it that your soul circulates in oblivion for eternity!" he said calmly at first but the rage grew towards the end of his sentence. This was no simple conjuration, this was theft of a Dremora from both the creator and the employer.

The road was still visible despite the whipping red sands, Veloth drew up his hood, narrowing his vision to the few feet in front of him but at least it was better than dirt in the eye. He gave little acknowledgement to the furious dremora, treating him as a dumb animal braying unintelligibly.

"I will make my peace with Mehrunes Dagon," he grumbled roughly, turning to set his gleaming red eyes on Tarik hard. A strange smile curled on his lips, "You think you'll be so missed?" It was certainly arrogant talk for a mortal, but Veloth was gifted in that he genuinely believed he could parlay with Daedric gods.

Tarik glared with two molten eyes "It's the principal of what you have done." he growled, he knew he could be replaced and he accepted that, but the daedric princes would not like the thought that they had been stolen from by a mortal, even if the goods were unimportant.

A silence fell from the Dremora then and he refused to talk any more, eyes squinted as occasionally sand got in them and stung them, even enough for black threads to appear in them as if they were bloodshot.