Schemes and Whispers:
Sevario's journey took him through the darkest reaches of Cold Harbor, a man turned Vampire, and monster, his bitter hatred of the world now lead him to one quest to become the icon of all hatred in the world itself.
But no one who simply set on a sordid journey to become hated would indeed be remembered, even Sevario knew, that if he intended to make the world despise him, if his quest to appease Boethiah's champion, and the Daedric Prince was to be successful, he would have to have a strong power base to begin.
And so he considered his choices.
"Tell me Dela, what powers are stirring with the crumbling of the Empire?" He asked the darkness behind him in the emptiness of this Daedric hell.
A soft feminine voice answered him, as if it had now bonded to his very mind, like an adviser behind his shadow.
"There are three, all divided by ideals that would equally serve you well in your goal of becoming the icon of hatred itself."
"Tell me more, Dela, I wish to decide which one would be best, for the time being, to cause the most corruption within."
She smirked almost unconsciously in his mental image, she whispered into his ear playfully. "The Dominion would be your best choice, the Aldmeri seek to create a foundation built on racial supremacy, and their modest methods assure their subjects are treated as equals so long as they agree to kneel and bend before their overseers."
"And the other two factions?"
"The Covenant would suit your intrigue, and the Pact your ferocity, but the Dominion, will suit your cause the most."
"I will have agents installed into each of these sects, and plant myself in none less I must make the choice."
She leaned back in his minds eye, splaying herself out provocatively, the Daedric woman did love to taunt him with her figure and her seductive tone.
"And exactly how do you plan on creating agents?"
"Normally, it'd tax me time to corrupt noble souls, so instead I will take advantage of those with like mindedness, Dela, you will sense them out for me, and reach for any man or woman I might use to prey upon for my cause, likewise, if there are a few feeble minds in Tamriel I can yet meld and shape to my will, you will seek them out too."
She smiled, standing, and bowing politely almost mocking him. "As you wish, My Future Emperor."
He stared into the distant gleam of Cold Harbor, determined to leave this hellish apocalypse behind.
Of Mer and Men:
Traveling into the mining pits, having escaped his soul touched prison thanks to the influences of Boethiah's agent tampering with them, he fled deeper into the darkness and spied around for souls more recently taken than others.
He would look around for those who's hearts were ripe with despair, ambition, temptation, and madness. The worst possible people of society, dragged into his cause by a common aim to crown their dark emperor as the one day ruler of all Tamriel.
Ambitious goals required ambitious lackeys, if he intended to found his hated reign, he needed hated individuals to achieve it.
Among the many souls he spied, he took notice of those who would ravage men and women alike without a second thought, those who experimented with dark arts upon their peers. Those who had no qualms backstabbing their allies. He took advantage of every person his silver tongue and black promises could entice into his growing ranks.
There was a twisted irony as man by woman he gathered people to his cause to escape and stir riots in Molag Bal's cruel sanctuary, small forces sufficient enough to give him a clear window of escape.
This should buy him some time to find this Prophet, that Dela spoke of.
But try as he may he could not, he searched every segment, every shriven of Cold Harbor subtly and guileful yet he was simply not able to find the one man that could give him freedom.
It was here, at the edge of giving up all dark hope, that he encountered another.
Thalmor and Daedra:
Carelon had always considered himself a study of dark arts but having his soul torn from his body was never a pleasant predicament, his first interest here was to get out and to achieve that he would need a sufficient amount of Daedric Sacrifice to appease the locals.
"Day fourteen" he dictated to himself. "The subject I have captured shows signs of his resilience caving, his mental capacities have stagnated, but his ability to respond to basic commands has not."
His dictation was warped into a stone in his hand, he used to keep his own vocal memories to himself, and replay them in the event he forgot something.
Nearby, on a Daedric torture rack was a drooling Dremora male shuddering as some kind of pin was being slowly burrowed into his skull.
"The subjects neurotic structure here is fascinating to study, I believe he assumed I would be an easy prey, my physical form does appear to be quite attractive to both male and female company."
The tall Altmer stared at himself in a reflection admiring his own feminine features for a moment, he was rather fond and proud of his own appearance rather vaingloriously and had no qualms enjoying it to its fullest extent.
The drill slowly burrowing into the Dremora's skull continued to whirl as it reacted to some magical influence from Carelon's hand, influencing the machine to continue drilling as it burrowed into the grey matter of his victim.
The Dremora howled in agony and thrashed around violently as it relentlessly continued its decent before finally halting several inches into its brain, causing the creature to die suddenly.
Carelon looked over to it with grim disappointment.
"The subject has sadly become deceased, I will need a new experiment to study."
Just then, he blinked, he heard the sound of nearby conflict as there was grunting between a Dremora, an what sounded like, a man?
Narrowing his eyes, he rolled his fingers over his golden lips tenderly to re-apply golden lipstick to them, before walking in a slow, confident stride to the scene of the problem.
There, he noticed a bearded Imperial man with a modest cut of hair pinning a Dremora to the wall with a sword.
"Don't kill it!" Carelon interjected in sudden fear.
The man turned to him.
"It can tell me everything I need to know."
Sevario turned to the hauntingly feminine Mer, if it wasn't for the lightly masculine tone behind his voice he would have mistaken the blonde haired elf for a woman, especially in that dress.
"I need the Dremora, give it to me human, he will tell me how to be off this plane."
Narrowing his eyes, Sevario turned his blade towards the elf who leaned away slowly.
"What is your name, Mer?"
The elf, who looked at him both offended, and irritated, sighed in a slow, assured regard.
"Men raising swords to their better, I should expect nothing less from such savages, very well, I will humor you, I am Carelon, A Scholar for the Thalmor of the Aldmeri Dominion and one fascinated in the study of Dremora, don't waste that one's potential."
"Carelon... I am Sevario, If I give you the Dremora, you will share the knowledge of escaping this plane once you have extracted it from this creature, what ever manner you choose to see fit."
Carelon paused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "A man will appear before you offering the key to your future..." he murmured to himself as Sevario narrowed his eyes.
Carelon nodded to himself. "Very well, Man, I will oblige your curiosity and give you the key to your home, but first, give me the Dremora."
The Dremora glared at Sevario with a growl. "Pathetic mortal, you cannot simply treat me as if I was meat for your-"
"Shut up." Sevario replied, throwing him before Carelon's feet as Carelon immediately drew magic upon himself then into the Dremora who cried out, being lashed down by arcane light as he was held there, Carelon floated to him calmly and gripped him by the skull.
"This will hurt you, significantly, try not to die immediately, I may have use for you when we return to Tamriel."
The Dremora's eyes widened, as Carelon gripped his skull, suddenly the Dremora screamed as fire burned from Carelon's hands, igniting the creature's mind as if he was fusing with it, reading it, his own eyes rolled to the back of his head.
The Elf scanned him looking back and forth rapidly before his eyes suddenly returned to normal, the Dremora hung there with a lucid jaw dropping, drooling lavishly.
"Disappointing, but at least now I have a way out for us."
Sevario turned to the elf who gazed at him thoughtfully. "I am a prophet of sorts, man, and you may be the key to answering my prophecy."
And so Sevario understood which prophet he was meant to find, and why.
The two men rushed to the opening of a Daedric anchor as Carelon dragged the Dremora with him.
They paused before the guardian of the Anchor Gate, a huge hulking Daedroth growling hungrily at the duo.
Carelon hurled the lobotomized Dremora at their foe to distract it as the creature roared at the Dremora, and slammed its teeth over its body hungrily.
While it devoured it alive, Carelon called to Sevario as he followed.
The two walked up the anchors stairway as it was just about to be opened, hundreds of Dremora were preparing to invade via this gateway.
"Do you put your hands in fate's trust, Man?"
"Fate is mine to command, Mer."
The elf glared at him thoughtfully, before the two rushed into the portal just as it opened from the other side, only for them both to arrive with a sharp and painful slam into the waters.
Gasping for air, Sevario roared out as he traveled back to land, hiding under the water to avoid the blazing light of the sun.
Carelon followed, seemingly confused at first about Sevario's aversion to the blazing light, as Sevario reached for a mudcrab and smashed its skull inwards, pulverizing its head before donning it, wearing it as a helmet to cover his face from the sun.
Carelon looked at him at last and realized, his eyes narrowing. "My for told savior is a vampire, fantastic, and a human too, either the gods are mocking me or the Daedra, but you did provide us with the means to escape, my debt to you is paid."
Sevario walked under a nearby canyon side to get into the shade before leaning there relaxing.
"I need blood, Mer, give me some."
"In due time, first you will intrigue me as to how you got so far into such a Daedric Realm without dying."
Sevario stared at the floor tiredly.
"I didn't agree to an inquisition, give me blood and I will indulge your curiosity."
Carelon narrowed his eyes, but sighed, nodding. "I will return to my headquaters, then produce for you a victim to satisfy your craven desires."
Night fell, as Carelon vanished, for a while Sevario wondered if he'd ever return, but then, he spotted Carelon walking towards him with a woman shuddering and twitching as if her mind was not her own, she gasped for air and whispered pleadingly, the Altmer female looked at Sevario desperately.
"P-please" her eyes were wide as her body obeyed the will of the dark magician.
Sevario stared at her, walking up to her as his eyes narrowed, closing his eyes, he realized this would be the first time he consciously fed on a person.
Her body trembled against his touch as he opened his fangs to feed, she shed tears in terror as he bit sharply into her neck, she gasped as he fed upon her life force and nourished his own craving before stabbing her in the chest with his sword to put her out of her misery quickly.
Carelon tilted a brow almost uncaring, as the Altmer woman lay there eyes wide against the sand.
"Have her head decapitated, I don't want locals seeing bite marks, they'll assume it was an attack by local sea life if there's no evidence otherwise."
Carelon shrugged nonchalantly, and drew a dagger, sawing away as if it didn't bother him, before taking out his dictator stone.
"Now then, answer me exactly what I came to know."
Sevario reluctantly spoke of his journey to Cold Harbor, recounting the details while leaving out the parts he considered personal, aiming to suffice the Elves curiosity.
Carelon stared at him thoughtfully, then nodded, murmuring to his stone. "The Subject expresses extreme levels of hostility towards the mention of Aedra and the Eight Divines before any form of context, I have made certain to note its disdain of their presence as relevant to its continued existence."
"I am right here, you know."
Carelon paused, then eyed the stone, murmuring. "The Subject also wishes to make its presence known to me."
Sevario rest his hand into his palm with a sigh.
Carelon paused again, before lowering the stone as its glow halted, resting it into a pocket.
"I have done my part, you have satisfied my curiosity for now, I suspect we will not meet again for a significant level of time."
"Tell me one thing Mer, your Thalmor, I heard stories you are Aldmeri Puritans, High Elves that like to instate your supremacy over others, why are you so willing to throw the lives of your companions away, and why do you not strike me down for speaking against your gods?"
Carelon turned to leave then halted at the choice of words, he retrieved a page of sorts with strange writing. Sevario noticed the pages writing seemed to change and alter every so often, and that the parchment, was infact made of stitched flesh.
"Call it a sick fascination with fate, if you will, I believe that my destiny is foretold by things far greater than the eight divines and the simplistic notion of racial puritanism. It is true I regard the prophecy I have been given, as somewhat vivid and disappointing, I expected an elf perhaps, or something more prominent at least, but you will suffice for the goals I myself have in mind for this world, just as it seems you have your own intentions."
Sevario leaned up. "Consider joining me then, our goals could have a mutual benefit between one another."
Carelon stared at him thoughtfully. "I will consider it, but not because of you. Your existence is what permits my prophecy to continue, so I do need you alive, rest assured, with what power I have, I will assure no one questions your vampiric tendencies, as long as you mediate them cautiously."
"I have no intention of feeding on every elf on this island without at least some consideration of the consequences."
"Good, then we have nothing further to discuss for now, consider us... mutual benefactors, for the time."
Carelon walked off in a feminine graceful stride that could put envy to a woman and make men with drunk vision consider his shape appeasing, but Sevario was not interested in the elf at present, for now, he had far bigger plans. And since the Dominion was his first target, it was time to set them into motion.