Carolara ran as hard and fast as she could, a hand clasped over her mouth, praying her stomach wouldn't turn on her.

"Begone, begone!" the voices behind her shouted, hateful and rasping. She wanted to apologize but it was a bit late for that, just doing her best now to dodge as the disturbed coven flung filth at the fleeing intruder.

The ringleader, a Nord crone with the worst disposition of them all, could be heard clearly above the din of the rest. "Away with you! Away with your hideous light! Never come here again or we shall devour you!"

Finally, the shouting faded out, and the Breton had left the putrid air around the shrine behind. She took a deep breath; only to realize with dismay that her leathers hadn't come out of it all unscathed. In the nearly pitch-black night she couldn't see what unpleasantness clung to her, but she knew she would rather wash it off before the sun rose.

Well, that had been no good. No good at all. One of the elves in the Bruma Mages' Guild had been kind enough to tell her were they had spotted the shrine to Namira and warned her to be careful, but there'd been no warning about their aversion to light. Deep in the forest the followers of the Lady of Decay lived in filth and shunned those that were not repulsive as they were, ways holy to their Daedric Lord. The Breton hadn't meant to offend, only bringing to life a brief magical light so she could see who addressed her, and chaos broke loose. Carolara's chances at an audience with Namira had been shattered, but it was, to say the least, difficult to be disappointed.

There were fourteen more Daedric Princes and their covens to still search for... she wondered if Baurus's luck was any better than hers.

Miles to the west and hours later, the answer was both a yes and a no. The Redguard had followed a set of complicated directions deep into the heart of Cyrodiil's Great Forest. His timing couldn't be much better. The worshippers stood in a circle, arms raised into the air while a Dunmer in ceremonial robes spoke to the statue... and the lizard-headed stone figure spoke back.

Baurus had no love for Daedra worshippers of any sort, particularly as of late, and Molag Bal was one of the worst sorts of Daedric Lord. At worst he had unrestrained hatred for mortals and their plane, and at best he saw them as occasionally useful tools. The Blade didn't exactly feel confident about his chances to strike a deal with the Daedra, and worried as to what would be asked of him, but he steeled himself and stepped out of the brush. This soldier would not again fail his Emperor.

"A lackey of the Emperors has come to my shrine." A sneering, otherworldly voice called the worshippers attention to the newcomer. They only stared, not moving from their spots but the soft chanting of those standing in the circle silenced. In the silence the Redguard strode forward, hand on the hilt of his katana, gazing around himself cautiously. "What do you want, weakling?"

While curious, the Daedra didn't sound as if he had too much patience for lies, so Baurus decided not to risk them. "I come for the Mace, Molag Bal. I wish to make a pact for it."

Muttering among the gathered during a brief silence, after which the voice echoed out from the statue once more. "Bold. Why?"

"To fight back Dagon's armies." It wasn't exactly the full story, but it wasn't a falsehood either. The Blade tried to keep his eyes on the statue, but it was difficult when he could feel the gazes of the coven locked onto him out of view. His hand tensed on his sword, ready to move at a second's notice, but not the least bit fearful.

"Ah. Fighting to save the world... you are a good man. An honorable man." The chuckle was unnerving... and then the tone rose, seemed to resonate in his very bones as the Daedra Lord spoke. "You disgust me. My Mace is meant to spread suffering and death among mortals. It would be wasted in your soft hands."

Baurus felt pretty sure he was the one that felt most disgusted with the conversation here, but he persisted, "Is there no agreement, is there nothing I can offer?"

"Piece of filth!" Molag Bal roared so loudly even the coven was startled. "Leave, before my followers make you sorry you ever came here!"