I watched in awe as he walked into Solitude. He wore armor like that of a Daedric Prince and a mask upon his face, once again his reputation had proceeded him. I had heard days ago from a traveler that he was heading toward Solitude and now he was finally here. I watched the Guards, trained to kill any who broke the law, but this man had broken so many laws that if ever he was caught he would spend six mortal lives in the dungeons of Castle Dour. But no man stood to challenge him as he walked through the town. He left a wake of hushed whispers behind him, all chattering quietly of the legends surrounding this 'man'. Was he even a man? Perhaps behind that horrific mask there was no face at all, perhaps he is an extremely powerful Daedra. No-one could say for sure. They looked upon his Daedric Armor and despaired, despaired for the Father of the Slaughter had come to Solitude and that meant, someone would die that night.
I sat in Solitudes only Tavern nursing my Mead and lamenting the bad luck I had being sent here to deliver a message to General Tulius just as the Father of the Slaughter had come into town. I had tried my hardest to leave before he got here, but I had to complete my mission, even if it meant that I had to die. There were a few noises behind me, I had assumed that someone had shared a particularly juicy piece of gossip judging by all the gasping. Then I heard it, the cracking sound of wood hitting a skull, I turned swiftly to see the Father standing over a man who was now bleeding profusely from the head. The man tried to crawl away, moaning in obvious agony, the Father tilted his head, as if trying to comprehend the cowardice. After what seemed like an eternity of silence, the Fathers hand moved to his belt where he pulled a wickedly long blade from its scabbard. Rumor had it that that blade was known as the Mehrunes Razor, a relic of the Daedric Prince himself. It mattered little the blades origins, as it was soon plunged hilt deep in the man's leg, pinning him the very floor of the Inn. He cried out, a wordless cry of pure pain and terror, he pleaded for the Fathers mercy even though we all knew he would be granted none, he looked about at us all pleading that we help him and save him from the plight. No help came. The Father, tilted his head once more and any who were present could have sworn they heard him speak before he let his colossal greave drop onto the mans head, popping it like your or I may pop a Tomato. No-one spoke a word of protest as the Father walked to the bar leaving the remains of the man he had just slain on the ground before him. I prayed to all Nine Divines that he would not take the seat next to me. My prayers, it would seem, were unanswered as he sat beside me. I was sure I was sweating profusely, hoping that none of my actions would anger the Demon whom I sat beside. I must have made some sort of noise as he turned to look at me, I swear my heart stopped for a moment. He tilted his masked face and for a moment I thought I saw a grin, this was where I was to die, in this cesspool of a tavern. I was shocked beyond words when he spoke to me, "You are Malain Starkfield?" he said, with a voice that sounded as if it belonged to one of the Divines. I was to shocked to speak, all I managed to get out was a small timid nod. He nodded back at me and spoke once more in a voice like silk, "I am to escort you back home, the patriarch of your order sent me, he said to look for a small timid man, but I did not think you to be this small and timid" he roared with laughter and it felt as it seemed to me that every patron in the tavern froze with fear.