~O~

House of Horrors

Anja rested at the Silver-Blood Inn and thought to talk with Kleppr a bit about what was going on around the city.

"Well... A witchhunter from the Priesthood of Stendarr is in town. He's asking a lot of questions about that old abandoned house." he told her.

Anja frowned curiously. "What's his name?"

"Tyranus or something..." Kleppr replied. "If you want to talk with him, help yourself. He's been pestering everyone who walks by."

Anja was somewhat curious about this Stendarr Vigilant, so she exited the inn and found him standing outside, talking with an uninterested Yngvar the Singer. The large, mildly brutish man simply attempted to ignore him, it seemed.

"So you don't know anything about this house?" Tyranus asked.

"No." Yngvar answered, giving him a look.

"Anyone seen entering or leaving? Any strange lights or unusual noises?"

"It's abandoned and it's always been abandoned."

Anja approached and Tyranus turned to her. "Excuse me, but do you know anything about this house? Seen anyone enter or leave?"

He gestured to a house nearby.

Anja frowned. "Why are you asking?"

"I'm with the Vigil of Stendarr. We believe this house might have been used for Daedra worship," Tyranus told her. "Evil rites and so forth."

Anja snorted somewhat and her mind went to her sister. "Not all of them are evil, you know."

Sanguine's voice filled the air. "Aww, how sweet." he laughed. "I knew you cared."

"No, but most of them are," Tyranus argued gently. "And I believe there's something in this house. I could use a hand."

"If I help you, will you cease your pestering?"

"It would be good to put it behind us if it ends up being nothing."

"Fine."

Tyranus drew out a mace from behind his back. "Follow me, and keep your eyes open. Daedra are powerful creatures and tricksters. Never know what you'll find."

You're wrong.

The two entered the house. It was filled with food and a warm fire was crackling. Anja studied the environment with vague interest now. If this house was supposed to be abandoned, it was probably the best looking abandoned house she'd ever laid her eyes on. Tyranus seemed to agree as well and picked up a plate that had a fresh Salmon Steak on it.

"Fresh food." he mused. "No wood rot on the furniture. Someone's been here. Recently. But the people I asked say no one enters or leaves..."

"I have to admit, this is a little strange..." Anja agreed.

Just then, an eerie collection of whispers filled the air; a multitude of voices that seemed to speak all at once.

"Wait. Did you hear that? I think it came this way." Tyranus said.

He rushed into another room and Anja lingered a bit, studying a stone table. She frowned curiously and bent down, running her fingers over four scratches. She closed her eyes and a flash of memory filled her head, leaving as quickly as it had come; an image of a screaming man who had been yanked into the fire to burn by an unknown force. A cackle of laughter filled her head, a voice that chilled her blood.

"That's it. Something's inside the house," Tyranus called, from the other room. "Come on, we're getting to the bottom of this."

Anja followed him and they approached a locked door. Tyranus attempted to open it, but it wouldn't budge. Scowling, he beat on the door. "Come out! We know you're here!"

Anja pushed him aside and attempted to open it.

Suddenly, the furniture and items around them began to float. Anja missed it, but Tyranus looked around in fear. When she sensed his departure, she glanced up and her eyes widened.

"Stendarr's Mercy! This isn't an ordinary Daedra. We have to get help!" Tyranus cried, fleeing.

Anja followed him, but a voice filled her head. It was seductive, purring and enough to wash over her in a strange sensation that she'd never felt before. It made her experience a helplessness she hated and attempted to shake free from her head.

"Weak. He's weak. You're strong. Crush him."

Near the front door, a frightened Tyranus turned to Anja, gesturing madly to it. "You first. Come on. Let's go." he stammered, "We're getting out of here. Now."

Anja attempted to open the door, but found it locked. She grunted with effort and tugged with all her strength, but it wouldn't budge.

"No. Kill him. Crush his bones. Tear at his flesh. You will kill. You will kill, or you will die!"

Tyranus staggered back and shook his head rapidly. "Get out of my head, Daedra!" he shouted. "I don't want to die. I can't die here!"

Anja faced him and he raised his mace. The desperation she saw on his face made her realize that he had never even experienced a Daedra, much less fought one. This voice purred through her mind, stroking a place within her that she'd never liked to experience herself. She could feel the violence in her rumbling, though her mind fought with every bit of itself to resist.

"The Daedra has us. It's you or me!" Tyranus cried.

And he charged at her.

It wasn't difficult to disarm him given the Shout she used which sent his weapon flying from his hand. Tyranus let out a horrified cry, but Anja silenced it by plunging her sword through his chest. Blood sprayed from the wound, staining her armor and soaking the floor when his body collapsed.

Anja felt a chill through the air as she stared down at the lifeless corpse of Tyranus, his eyes locked open lifelessly. She backed away from what she had done, letting out a groan. She covered her face with one hand, wiping some of the blood from her face that had managed to calm her racing heart a bit. That voice returned in her mind, vibrating her entire being.

"Yes. Your reward is waiting for you, mortal. Further down."

Anja didn't want a reward for this, but her body was compelled to move forward, despite the rebuke of her mind. She ventured toward the door that Tyranus had tried to open and it led her deeper into the house. There was more food, barrels and furniture here as well.

"Yes. Further down. Into the bowels."

The voice led her to a food storage larder, where a hole in the wall revealed a subterranean tunnel. Anja's instincts told her this was wrong, but that damnable voice was urging her in a way she didn't want. She couldn't stop her legs from moving down the tunnel toward an eerie altar.

"So close. Your prize is waiting."

There was a mace at the center of the altar and Anja took a step toward it. But when she did, spikes shot up around her, trapping her before the altar.

"Fool! Did you think Molag Bal, the Lord of Domination, would so easily reward you?"

Molag Bal? Oh Gods, not him. Of all the Daedric Princes Anja never wanted to encounter, Molag Bal was definitely the first. In Elli's studies of the Princes of Oblivion, she had told her that Molag Bal was one of the most dangerous. But not because of his strength, but his ability to manipulate even the most powerful of warriors.

The Daedric Prince spoke; that seductive roll in his voice returning.

"What do you see from that little cage? Speak."

Anja grunted and scowled at the altar. "A mace?" she snapped. "An altar - What's the point of this game?"

Molag Bal rumbled with amusement. "There was a time when this mace dripped with the blood of the feeble and the worthless. Here, before my altar. Men would come and sacrifice the wretched in my name. The weak would be punished by the strong. But a Daedric Lord has his enemies, and my rival Boethiah had her priest desecrate the altar. Until you came."

Anja felt her knees buckle at his voice.

Damn him! she thought, furiously.

"Hey, come on now, Molag!" Sanguine's chipper voice filled the air. "That's no way to treat a lady!"

Anja looked through the cage and saw Sanguine standing there, smiling cheerfully as always.

"It's the ONLY way to treat them you should know that by now, Sanguine." Molag said, his usual purring baritone taking on an annoyed edge. "It's no surprise to see you tampering in the affairs of mortals. But she walked into my domain, so she now belongs to me."

"I belong to NO ONE!" Anja clenched the spikes and hissed when one rough edge cut her palm.

"Fine. I offered you a reward. You'll get the freedom your kind enjoys so much." Molag sneered. "But Boethiah's priest is imprisoned as well. But not by me. He is hurt. Suffering. Save him. Let him perform his rites one more time. And when he does, I will be waiting for him."

Anja straightened when the cage released her. She was surprised that Molag Bal so willingly released her.

"Freedom has its price, Anja Bjansen."

Her name spoken in such a way made her shiver. She was ashamed by it.

"Bring him to me, and I will let you have your sister back."

She saw the priest of Boethiah imprisoned flash through her mind - no doubt inserted in her mind from the magic of the Daedric Prince. An old man in black robes, kneeling before Forsworn warriors. He was smacked once across the face, blood gushing from his lip from the force of the blow.

The altar went silent then and Anja frowned at it.

"Molag?" she said. "Molag."

Anja let out a frustrated sound. What reason did she have to believe him? Her sister was lost in the realm of Sheogorath. There was no way he had any sort of control over that. Daedric Princes never interfered with the others realms. But his voice still purred through her veins, tempting her.

O

New Sheoth received a new visitor.

Elli lounged contentedly on the throne while her two beasts remained around her. She smiled when a warrior approached, led by Haskill. The warrior seemed confused to see a woman on the throne and quite readily voiced this.

"I mean to speak with Lord Sheogorath!" he bellowed, in a voice quite proud.

"Take care of how you speak," Haskill warned him. "You address his consort, Lady Elli. Maiden of Beasts and Mistress of Madness."

Nanette was standing beside the throne and offered a giggle in response.

Elli reached back and gave Ysmir a pet on his great head. "What is your name, warrior?" she asked, her mismatched gaze landing on the man.

"Daglin." the warrior replied, so boldly.

"Daglin..." Elli smiled, though it wasn't pleasant by any means. "My husband is away in Solitude, paying a visit to a mad emperor. He has charged me with tending to the realm until he returns. If you have any demands - and I am certain you do - speak them to me."

Daglin took a step forward and Akhos and Ysmir shrieked warningly at him.

"Now now, my friends." Elli soothed, smiling gently at them. "He's a guest." She looked at Daglin curiously. "From the Jarl's court in Winterhold, I trust?"

Daglin nodded his head. "I received a message of challenge from the Mad God!" he declared.

Elli's eyes fell on Haskill and the Chamberlain's lip quirked somewhat before he lowered his head.

"Hm. Yes," she mused. "It is true that many brave souls have come here in search of glory, treasure and such trifles. Though my dear husband is currently concerned with more...important ilk than a simple, mindless foot soldier crawling from a little hovel on Mundus."

Daglin snarled. "How dare you!" he spat. "Who do you think you are? You're nothing more than the Mad God's whore!"

Herdir had been standing beside her on the other side of the throne and calmly looked in her direction. "Mistress, should I cut out his tongue for you?"

"Not yet, Herdir." Elli told him, smiling.

She rose and approached the warrior, reaching out with one hand and lightly touching his cheek. The warrior didn't flinch. It was true that he had the courage most foolish Nords possessed. Though Elli had forsaken her Nord heritage since her wedding and ascension to Daedric-hood.

A Dremora priest in robes chanted in their tongue while Sheogorath and Elli stood apart, ready to be wed. She was dressed in proper attire fitting the wife of a Lord of Oblivion.

"Elli Bjansen, do you forsake your mortality and everything you once were to become the bride of Our Lord?" the Dremora questioned.

Elli nodded. "I do."

The Dremora regarded Sheogorath now, smiling. "And do you accept this mortal to be your wife?"

Sheogorath grinned. "Who wouldn't?" he said, smirking down at her.

"Then by the Power of the Shivering Isles, Sheogorath, our Lord, I announce you both wed!" the Dremora announced.

Elli looked surprised when Sheogorath took a drink from a goblet and cupped her cheeks. She met his gaze in confusion and his eyes flickered with delight before he pressed his lips to hers. Her eyes widened at the force of his kiss and before she knew it, her world suddenly went white.

When it was all over, Elli could see that the court watched her silently, though their features were full of shock and amazement. She turned to her husband, who beamed with pride.

"Ah! I still have the touch!" Sheogorath laughed. "Hm...should have washed my hands first..."

Elli turned to the pool behind the throne and studied her changed features with amazement.

"I'm...beautiful..." she gasped.

"That you are, my little wolf pup!" Sheogorath told her, leaning on his cane with a smile. "Oh! Wait a moment. Scratch that! It's not exactly fitting to call my wife a pup anymore then, isn't it? Not even wolf pups want to be called wolf pups, and they literally ARE pups!"

Elli couldn't resist her laugh.

You've lost it.

"Ignore the last pitiful, whispering doubts of your mortality, love." Sheogorath assured her. "They will pass as they always do. Surely there are other whispers in your mind right now."

Elli closed her eyes, savored the rush of power that surged through her. Magic as strong and ancient as the Daedra Themselves coursed throughout her veins. She could feel it and it felt wonderful. The last pathetic sensations she had experienced in life just seemed to slip away. All of that was gone. In place of it was a being who should have been. A woman with everything that she so rightfully deserved.

And with that, she laughed.

Elli actually laughed.

She returned to reality and regarded the mortal man with a smile. "Would you like to play a game?" she asked him.

Daglin frowned. "What game?"

"It's called 'Let's See Just How Loud Mortals Can Scream When I'm Done With Them'." Elli answered, grinning broadly. "You'll like it. I promise. Oh. Wait. I take that back. I'm going to like it a little more probably."

Oh yes. Sheogorath's will was definitely rubbing off on her.

O

Anja could see the Forsworn were less in number than she originally thought.

Logrolf was bound to a wooden post in the ground, regarding the Forsworn with contempt. He didn't see them being picked off one-by-one as Anja moved with shadowy grace and skill befitting a true Nord warrior. She knew that if the Forsworn caught on to the fact that she had taken out their comrades, they would probably come pouring from the cave nearby. So she hurried toward Logrolf and he made a sound of surprise to see her. Then, his old features twisted with defiance.

"So, what do you want?" he sneered. "Come to slay the mighty Logrolf while he sits bound and helpless?"

Anja scowled. "Shut up. Let me get these binds off of you."

"And who sent you?" Logrolf said, arching a thick brow. "No one knew where I was, when I was taken."

"No one sent me anywhere." Anja snapped. "Molag Bal wants you to - "

"So. The King of Corruption sends his messenger to challenge me," Logrolf sneered, chuckling a little. "Very well. I will meet with Molag Bal, and I will venerate his altar in Boethiah's name, as I did before. Cut me loose, minion of the Hated One. I need to get to Markarth."

"I'm not his minion!" Anja spat.

But Logrolf was already making his way toward a horse that belonged to the Forsworn. Anja called after him.

"No, no, no!" she yelled. "Come back! Come - argh!"

She groaned in frustration and called for Twilight before pursuing the priest.

Once they returned to the abandoned house, Logrolf began to make his way further down into the cavern.

"Logrolf, would you just stop for a moment?" Anja demanded. "Molag isn't a Daedric Prince to toy with!"

Logrolf chuckled rather cruelly. "Is the mighty warrior terrified?"

"No. But toying with one just to prove a point isn't exactly the highlight of intellect."

Logrolf pushed her aside. "I have a job to do. Get out of my way."

Anja scowled and watched as he approached Molag's altar. It took a moment of hesitation before she even considered speaking. "You stupid idiot!" she snapped, moving forward as Logrolf stepped onto the same place as she had. "Just turn around and go before - "

It was too late as Molag's spikes trapped Logrolf right where he wanted him.

"Molag Bal. You think you can best Boethiah's faithful?" Logrolf challenged. "I have won this contest before!"

Molag's voice dripped with amusement. "Ah. But I have my own champion this time, Logrolf."

Logrolf looked at Anja in disbelief. "What? You!"

Anja shook her head. "No! I tried to save you, you idiot!"

"If that were true, then why follow him here?" Molag crooned, in a voice that made her blood heat, "You could have turned and walked away, but you didn't. You WANT to wield my mace, in all it's rusted spitefulness. You WANT to use it to crush Logrolf's spirit from his weak, pathetic bones."

"No, I don't!" Anja spat.

"Do it!" Molag hissed. "Make him bend to me!"

Anja backed away, shaking her head. "You can't make me."

"On the contrary. I am one of the few Daedric Princes who actually can."

Before Anja could consider refusing his taunt, she felt herself pulled forward and seized the mace in her hand. "What... No, stop it!" she cried.

"When you felt the pull to me, you understood the consequences," Molag crooned. "A female...filled with strife...conflict. You opened yourself to me and my kingdom, little one. You knew of me, yet you did not turn away as you should have. Most mortals are not so brazen...foolish, but you..."

Anja was forced to face Logrolf, who spat venomously at her. "To Oblivion with you, Whore of the Hated One!"

That suddenly brought forth a wash of fury through the woman. "Whore?" she whispered, in disbelief. "I AM NO WHORE!"

She swung the mace and it cracked across Logrolf's mouth. Blood sprayed from the blow and splashed across Molag's altar. Logrolf went down with a wet groan.

"I won't bend!" he growled, blood gushing from his mouth. "NEVER! You will regret this!"

Again, Anja's body surged with fury, but her mind attempted to rebuke it. You need to stop. It's going to go too far.

(It already has.)

Miraak's Sword spoke with such cruelty, she found herself momentarily stopping as she beat Logrolf again with the mace. The sword...

"AGAIN!" Molag bellowed, with glee.

But Anja beat Logrolf again and again until he was nothing more than a pile of shredded cloth, slashed flesh and bone. She backed away in horror, realizing what she had done and dropped the mace. Molag Bal let out a delighred laugh that reverberated throughout the cavern.

"Ahahaha! You mortals and your weak, frail, limp, pathetic bodies!" he cried. "Do it again!"

Anja watched as Logrolf was resurrected once more, cringing with anguish. Yet he remained defiant even still.

"I won't give in!" he shouted.

Put him out of his misery, woman.

Anja could hear her mind racing with the idea, so she seized the mace and smashed Logrolf in the head in a single blow, knocking him to the floor on his hands and knees.

"No...stop..." he begged. "Please. No more..."

Molag Bal chuckled deeply, pleased by this. "You bend to me?"

Logrolf spat out blood. "Yes..."

"You pledge your soul to me?"

Logrolf's eyes were heavy with death. "Yes..."

"You forsake the weak and pitiful Boethiah?"

"Yes!"

"You're mine now, Logrolf."

Anja shook her head and let out a groan, tossing the mace to the floor. "He's had enough!" she shouted.

Molag sighed. "Yes, he has. And I grow weary of this. End him."

Instead of using the mace, Anja drew out her sword and plunged it through Logrolf's chest. The priest twitched and spasmed on the blade before letting out a groan of relief. Anja withdrew the blade and watched his corpse fall to the floor. She expected Molag Bal to be furious with this act of defiance, but he was amused nonetheless.

"Refuse my gift, do we? It matters not." he purred, "Regardless, when your enemies lie broken and bloody before you, know that I will always be watching."

Anja glared hatefully at the altar.

"Now, I have a soul in Oblivion that needs claiming. Take care of the house while I'm gone."

He departed with a cruel laugh to follow.

Anja merely shrieked furiously and gave the altar a fierce kick.

O

Elli observed Anja's plight from a shimmering pool in a garden in New Sheoth. She let out a soft murmur and allowed herself to pet Ysmir, who rested beside her.

"Poor little thing..." Elli pondered. "Well, that's what happens. Fate has a way of being both cruel and rewarding."

Ysmir let out a soft belch and Elli laughed down at the beast. "Still choking on that warrior?" she laughed.

Ysmir answered with a low growl.

"Not to worry. Those who have caused us great torment in the past will understand our fury, my dear pet." Elli promised him. "When the times comes again, perhaps we will visit 'father' in Sovngarde. After all...it could be quite fun."

Akhos drifted nearby and approached Elli, who reached up and touched the creature's 'chin'. "Yes, Akhos," she said, smiling warmly. "I do believe we've been blessed for once."