Spoliers for the main quest. I count this battle amongst my favorites ever. Not only because it was a serious challenge that I eventually overcame, but that it actually happened like this.

Ruma was not surprised her father motioned for herself and Raven to strike the moment he finished speaking. Immediately she leaped forward, her staff readied in front of her, her mind poised to unleash the spell she had building. With a gesture she would have this interloper, this crass fool, this lapdog of the Septims, he who dared to come here, to the heart of her father's paradise, this mortal. To the point where he had deceived one of their own followers into following him. Eldamil would have been considered one of her most trusted followers before his untimely death. And now he had sided with this human trash.

She remembered it as if it were yesterday. Of course from the point of view of eternity it was yesterday. Here was only the ever changing now, the present and the continuous. The first time she had met this man, this so called champion, Hero of Kvatch, had been when he had arrived at their shrine in the Lake Arrius Caverns. He had been another faceless minion in a crowd of them, a willing devotee, eager to learn and eager to prove himself to them and their master. Lord Dagon had demanded blood, and the sacrifice was to be in accordance. He had been given the knife and told to end the life of the Argonian in front of the statue. When he had heard what was expected of him he had stopped for a brief moment and she had seen a slight tremor of weakness in his eyes. It was comforting, in a sense to see such a naïve youngster there who could be moulded into a weapon of Lord Dagon. Taking the blade from her hand he had stepped forward to look at the prisoner. For a brief while he had hesitated, before looking back at her with a curious expression on his face. At first she had taken it to be a look of helplessness that she would have to weed out of his system before he could become an actual weapon of war for them. Hindsight was twenty, twenty of course, and now she realised with a loathing that had surpassed her expectations that he had been looking at her with a view to remembering her face before he killed her. Then he went ahead and took the Argonian's life in single stroke. A practical man then, even if he hated her for it. He had needed to make it appear real, to make sure they felt he was involved. Besides he had probably taken into account the condition he was in, the speed he would need to move at and the probability of his survival. A man who did what needed to be done, as mercifully as possible.

But oh she remembered the aftermath of that. This mortal had fallen to his knees in front of the chapel and she and Harrow had stayed behind to watch over his entrance into the Mythic Dawn. Surely he was praying to the greatness of Mehrunes Dagon, the great and powerful that he was. For an hour he had sat there, head bowed, lips moving constantly. Then out of nowhere as she had walked around to stretch her legs had come the pain. A searing, burning pain that he spread through her lower back and into her stomach, pooling in her intestines and curling around her nerves. Her spine had seemed to stretch and tear apart. It was only now that she understood that he had thrown the dagger he had used to take the life of an innocent and it had impacted on her lower back. Harrow barely managed to turn before a Hailfire spell had struck him in the face and removed most of the flesh from his upper torso. The "hero" had flipped as he passed her, grabbing the magic staff she always carried on her back and raising it just as the guard attacked him. The guards first, and only, spell had missed and the counter spell had hurled his body into the wall, most of his ribs breaking in a sickening crunch and pop as the shards punctured his organs. Their attacker had turned to her and looked at her with such hatred that she had almost recoiled from it. Before he'd gathered the magicka for a Firestorm spell in his hand she almost glimpsed a hint of amber in his shadowed eyes, amber with catlike slits. Then had come black and her awakening here in paradise.

Now as she jumped forward she could see those amber slits again, glinting within the confines of the strange helm he wore. Even as she jumped she could see him move with a speed that belied humanity, whirling as he drew his firebrand sword. Her first spell was unleashed within seconds, but he just leaned to one side and the blast harmlessly missed him. Too late she realised her mistake as he raised one glowing palm to the level of her face. Within it spun the beginnings of a powerful spell she did not recognise, right before he loosed it. Pain happened yet again, and she ground her teeth in anguish and rage at having fallen to his power yet again. But even as light registered on her retinas she let loose as a fierce laugh. Here she would simply be reborn again and again. He could not win. Beside her Raven flashed into existence once more. But things were going wrong. Raven gaze over her shoulder was nothing more than a visage of horror. Around Carac Agaialor the very air seemed to teem with purple light and chaotic messings. Obviously their father had risen to do battle himself, but there was something else here. Ruma flashed to her feet, already drawing her returned staff and Raven behind her summoned his armour once more. Inside they rushed.

Mankar Camaron was rising, his will already evident in his stance and in his powerful aura. But the aura that surrounded his opponent was no mean aura either. It pulsed with both Daerdric and Aedric magicks. Ruma gasped in surprise. Both Daedric and Aedric was unheard of, but this, this man, possessed both. Bursting into a run, the children of Mankar Camaron rushed to aid their father. But they were too late. Eldamil had risen and was advancing, but he was not the threat. In a swift inrushing of air, the Champion summoned. Out of the Daedric magicks came the form of a soldier, a female clad in miniscule armour, equipped with a sword, and axe and a bow and shield. Recognisable instantly was a Dark Seducer of the Shivering Isles, the home of the Prince of Madness, Sheogorath. The Seducer and Eldamil both charged at the returning children, but beyond them the Champion focused on Camaron. Switching from his firebrand to a huge, strangely shaped claymore the man charged and leapt. In that instant, as his bronzed blade was raised and poised in mid swing, the last words she heard in her mortal life flooded back to haunt her.

"Dark Knights exist to do whatever it takes to stop Oblivion and Tamriel merging. I might not like what I have to do, but count on it that I will never let you succeed!"

Then the blade came down.

And after that Paradise collapsed. What a class story and battle. They killed me five times until I realised that I couldn't use Dawnfang against Camaron. So I switched to my Impure Madness Claymore and it killed him a lot quicker.