Dawnguard 5

After a brief skirmish at the gates, where Stefana first saves a woman from being murdered, and then had to be dragged away before she started to attack the guards for stealing an acceptable victim for her enchanting practice, the ad hoc family finds themselves wandering the tiered streets of Markarth looking for any indication of Molag Bal’s shrine.

Stefana is starting to flag, and yawn, when a Vigilant of Stendarr approaches them.

“Hail, have you ever seen anyone enter or leave this house?”

Guilelessly, Stefana shakes her head, “We’ve never seen anyone go in or out of that house.”

The Vigilant nods, “I’m Vigilant Tyranus, and you’re not the first to say the same thing. I suspect it is home to Daedric activities, and it is my sworn duty to see it eradicated. Kajiiti, you look capable, would you be willing to help me investigate the house while your companion takes her daughter to the inn?”

Serena and A’Krilla both share a glance, before A’Krilla nods, “This one will aid you in investigating the house.”

Not even 15 minutes later, A’Krilla opens the door again.

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 Stefana bounces down the stairs from the house into the rough hewn corridor before stopping in front of a metal shrine made to look a little like her papa’s head, with a rusty mace suspended above it.

Hesitantly, she asks, “Papa, where are you?”

From the shrine Molag Bal says, “I am here, come closer.”

Stefana starts to cry, “No you’re not, there’s a shrine to my papa at mama’s home, and I can feel papa there. I can’t feel papa here. Who ever you are, I’m going to find you and destroy you before delivering you to papa myself. Then I will restore this shrine for him.”

“Have you forgotten I told you a priest of Boethiah desecrated my shrine? Or that I said I would give you their location from this shrine?”

Stefana’s tear filled face lifts up hopefully, “I remember. I thought I’d have to call you first, not that you’d be here already.” As she speaks, she obediently walks closer to the shrine, and doesn’t even flinch as metal teeth shoot out of the ground to form a cage around her.

“What do you see child!”

Stefana looks around sadly, “A cage full of empty promises that I will see filled once you tell me where to find the priest.”

“Silence!”

Stefana immediately shuts up, and goes dead still so not even her clothes are rustling.

“It is not enough that they are ended. I want submission! They have got themselves captured and they are sitting in a cage that is not this one! You are to find them, save them, and let him perform his rite once more. When he does, we will be waiting for him.”

Stefana smiles beatifically, “I understand, I will act as your hands in the world. Will you wish me to summon you, so that you can see to his punishment personally?”

“This is a matter for champions, Boethiah has sent her champion, and now I have my own champion. Go, he is being held in Broken Tower Redoubt.”

As the space between the bars warps, and Stefana seems to shrink at the same time as she recedes into the distance, while walking towards a gap between the bars, Stefana says, “Yes papa. I will ensure that he is hale and healthy and return him here.”

“You dare mock me!?”

Stefana freezes and turns around, “I would never do that papa. I am your obedient daughter, and will carry out your will to the best of my ability.”

“Impale yourself on the spikes of the cage.”

Stefana doesn’t even hesitate as she hugs a spike and drives it through her body. She tries to say something, but the spike prevents her from breathing properly, though the smile on her face is… disturbing.

Further up the passageway, A’Krilla grabs Serena’s arm tightly and prevents her from going to help.

As Stefana’s vision is starting to go dark, Molag Bal says, “You may let go and heal yourself.”

Stefana pushes herself off the spike, and breathes heavily as the light of a healing spell surrounds her hand.

Molag Bal commands, “Now leave, and do not return until you have rescued the priest.”

Stefana smiles at the shrine, “Yes papa.” Before she leaves Molag Bal to consider the fact that she is likely as strong as his actual children, utterly loyal to him, and utterly submissive to him. To the point that there is nothing he could do with her body that she wouldn’t do of her own volition if he but commanded it.

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 As they’re travelling north to the redoubt, Serena snarls at A’Krilla, “Why did you stop me when he ordered my daughter to impale herself.”

A’Krilla winces at a particularly shrill squeal of pain from Stefana’s current victim, “That one needs to think. What would have happened if you tried to help her?”

“I’d have got her off of the spike and started healing her wounds.”

Serena’s face whips to one side as A’Krilla slaps her, leaving thin red lines where her claws scored the skin, “Stop looking as a mother, and look as a Daughter of Coldharbour. What would have happened?”

“How dare you strike me like that!”

“This one dares because that one is not thinking right. You have eyes, yet you do not see.”

“She’s my daughter.”

A’Krilla thinks for a couple of seconds, “If your father commanded a thrall to impale themselves and the thralls parent ran out to help them, what would happen?”

Serena stays silent, as she knows exactly what would happen, as she’s seen it happen many times in the past.

A’Krilla looks off into the distance, her eyes misty with memory, “People think Kajiiti live easy, carefree, lives. But it is hard living as we do, as we have all, those that lived outside the cities at least, seen brothers and sisters taken by the desert. Sudden sink holes, monsters that live beneath the sands, and ancient traps. If one Kajiiti is falling into a sink hole, then a second Kajiiti trying to save the first just means there are now two Kajiiti falling into a sink hole. The sink hole doesn’t care, it will eat as many Kajiiti as are willing to jump into it. Maybe there is a Kajiiti with the right tools to help, or maybe the other Kajiiti were born with four legs, or the mind of a cat.”

A'Krilla’s eyes refocus, “The Dark Lord is like the sink hole, and only another Daedric Prince could hope to rescue one caught within. Are you such a prince?”

Serena sighs, “No I’m not. Nor do I wish to trade the whims of one master for another one.”

A’Krilla shakes her head humourlessly, “This one thinks we would need to be in another Princes domain, or one of the afterlives, to escape the Dark Lords mercies at this time.”

Serena nods, “I think I’m going to try and live as though he wasn’t always looking over our shoulder. Much as I tried to do before I was imprisoned. Maybe find a nice boy,” she looks at A’Krilla, “or girl to settle down with.” As another scream rents the air she adds, “For now, I think I’m going to design a spell to create a circle that allows sound in, but not out. Grab a roll of paper and some charcoal and I’ll show you what I’m doing.”

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 Stefana daintily steps over the critically wounded Forsworn towards the old man that’s tied up on the floor, wearing a dark robe.

Crouching down, she pulls away the gag, before looking at it curiously, “You know, that’s probably a good idea. I think mama is getting fed up with…”

The old man cuts her off, “Who are you?”

Stefana looks back up, “Oh, hi I’m Stefana. Are you a priest of Boethiah?”

The old man puffs out his chest, “Of course, I am the mighty Logrolf.”

Stefana beams a wide smile at him, “Great, papa sent me to rescue you.” A pained moan from the Forsworn attracts her attention, “Excuse me, I think this one is trying to escape.”

As Stefana walks over to the Forsworn as they’re reaching for a weapon, the old man calls out, “Rescue? No one knew where I was when I was taken. Who sent you?”

Stefana turns around impatiently, “I told you, my papa did.”

“Who’s your papa?”

A bubbling gurgle distracts Stefana, and she looks down, before dancing backwards out of the spreading pool of blood where the Forsworn cut their own throat, “Blast, now look what you made me do.”

“I asked who your father was lass!”

Stefana looks back at the man, “Molag Bal.”

Logrolf laughs, “You? A servant of the King of Corruption? Have the beast’s standards fallen so far? Tell me another one.”

Stefana smiles as she picks the man up like a sack of potatoes, “Papa only told me to bring you back to his shrine in Markarth, not prove that I am his daughter. I’m sure that mama or A’Krilla will be able to heal your wounds, as I’m not so good at healing mortals yet. I have so much trouble visualising it. A’Krilla should also know what we need to feed you to ensure you’re healthy too, as she was mortal a few weeks ago.”

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 After a couple of days, travel with an irate Logrolf, the group finally reach the stables outside Markarth.

Unceremoniously, Stefana drops Logrolf on the floor and cuts his bindings. “There you go, as promised delivered safe and sound to Markarth. Now don’t go getting captured again before you’ve done your thing to papa’s shrine, as we do have other things we need to be doing.”

While she’s doing that, A’Krilla walks over to the wagon that’s just pulling in and travellers from Solitude disembarking. “This one greets you. How have the roads been?”

The driver of the wagon looks down, “Keep your hands where I can see them Kajiiti, my passengers don’t need to be losing no possessions.”

A’Krilla shakes her head, “This one’s query was genuine.”

The driver grunts, “Still, keep your hands where I can see them. And the roads have been quiet, I think someone dealt with one of the Foresworn strongholds in the area. But they’ll be back, or bandits will move in.”

A’Krilla nods, “This one was wondering if you had seen a Moth Priest in your travels.”

“Who I have or haven’t seen is no business of yours.”

A’Krilla palms a leather pouch and discretely places it on the seat of the wagon, “This one only wishes to ask a few questions about Elder Scrolls.”

The driver licks their lips before looking around and slipping the pouch under their coat, “Look, don’t go spreading this around, as people rely on knowing their journeys are safe with the drivers. There was a fellow that was dressed strange, and talked about scrolls. He got off at Dragonbridge on my last circuit.”

A’Krilla nods, “Nobody will ever hear about this conversation.”

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 A short while later, the three of them make their way back to Molag Bal’s shrine to find Logrolf kneeling inside the cage praying to his god.

As soon as Stefana becomes visible to the shrine, Molag Bal starts to laugh.

Logrolf pauses in his prayers to look up at the shrine, “Molag Bal. You think you can best Boethiah’s faithful? I have won this contest before!”

Molag Bal replies, “Ah. But I have my own champion this time Logrolf.”

Logrolf looks over his shoulder at the happily smiling girl that’s coming closer, “What? You!”

With a sound of glee in his voice, Molag Bal says, “Daughter, I give you my mace, in all its rusted spitefulness. Crush the spirt from  Logrolf’s bones. Make him bend to me!”

Stefana gives the shrine an adoring look, before she brings the mace down on Logrolf’s head, caving his skull in. A deep red light surrounds the old priest as his skull is put back together.

Logrolf spits towards the shrine, “I will never submit to you, never.”

Despite his statement, Logrolf flinches as the mace comes down once more, turning a deadly blow into a crushing blow to his shoulder, followed by another blow to the head.

Once more, Molag Bal resurrects the old priest, and once more he spits his defiance.

After the first few times, the old man starts to protect his head, and Stefana starts to get bored. In order to entertain herself, she starts to add sound effects to her swings, such as, “Weeeee, smoosh.” or “Open wide, it’s time for another mouthful.”

Her fathers continued enjoyment and goading is enough that she remains happy and contented despite her boredom though.

Eventually, Logrolf can no longer bear the repeated deaths and broken bones, and cries out, “Enough! Enough.”

Molag Bal’s gloating voice calls out “Stop! You bend to me?”

Stefana stops mid-swing, and looks down curiously as Logrolf struggles into a kneeling position, and says in a broken voice, “Yes!”

“You pledge your soul to me?”

“Yes!”

“You forsake the weak and pitiful Boethiah?”

“Yes!”

Molag Bal crows, “You’re mine now Logrolf.” Disinterest clear in his voice, he continues, “Daughter, put him out of his misery.”

Stefana reaches down to the old man, and tries to pull out his soul, the same way she’s been trying to do with the animals on the road.

As the old mans pitiful cries turn into screams of pure agony, Molag Bal’s interest rapidly returns to the shrine, “Daughter, what are you doing?”

Stefana looks up with a smile, “I want to take his soul out, but I keep losing hold of it.”

Excitedly, Molag Bal says, “Do it again!”

Stefana does it again, eliciting the same scream as before.

“Again, but slower… Even slower… Still slower… Now put magicka around the soul and pull slowly and smoothly, stop! You almost tore it, do it again, gently, gently, wait… Can you feel that, can you feel the soul oozing out of the body, now give a gentle tug. Stop! Too hard. Let go and start again! Almost, almost, Stop! Again! YES! That’s it.”

Stefana beams a smile at the shrine as a black gem appears out of the well of blood, “Thank you papa.”

“Quickly, put the soul in this gem!”

Stefana picks up the gem in her other hand and shoves the soul she’s holding towards it. Almost greedily, the stone sucks up the soul, and she puts the gem back into the blood. As she does it’s replaced with another black gem.

With an excited voice Molag Bal says, “Quickly, before the body expires, take the vestige from this gem and put it in the body.” When Stefana picks up the gem and looks at it in confusion, Molag Bal adds, “It’s the same as drawing it out of the body in the first place.”

Stefana beams a smile at the shrine, and pulls the soul from the gem, before depositing it into the body before her.

As she does, the body groans, and tries to push itself up.

“Now kill it with the mace!”

Stefana shrugs, and brings down the mace on Logrolf’s head once more. Only, instead of slumping to the floor, he instead disappears in a flash of purple fire.

Molag Bal calls out to Serena and A’Krilla, “Come down to the shrine where I can see you both properly, and see what this daughter has achieved! I give you until my summoning day to return to this shrine and repeat this feat yourselves! If you do not, I will instruct this daughter to demonstrate how to do it with your own souls!”

A wave of dark energy passes over the rusty mace, “The Mace of Molag Bal! I give you its true power daughter. When your enemies lie broken and bloody before you, know that I will be watching. Now, I have a soul to play with. Take care of the house while I’m gone!”

Serena and A’Krilla both share an apprehensive glance, before looking at the black soul gem that Stefana is still holding.