Service to the Masters

Ralof, Surtr's new Housecarl follows his new High King through the forest, their entourage being only twenty or so men strong despite how dangerous it was to allow the High King out in such places.

He'd rather have more men at hand considering Ulfric's recent assassination, but Surtr wasn't exactly a sitting lamb waiting to be slaughtered. The man was the Dragonborn for Oblivion's sake, if the World-Eater failed to end him he doubted any mortal would manage.

Finally, Surtr seemed to find what he had been searching for, stopping before a large round ruin with a pit in the ground that'd all but been buried by foliage. An ancient dragon burial mound... "My Jarl, I hate to ask but, what are we doing out here? I doubt it's for Dragonbones with the warehouse full of them we have..."

Surtr shakes his head, "While I am looking for bones, that's my purpose... Stand back, all of you, and try not to shit yourselves." he growls as he turns his attention to the grave. "Slen Tiid Vok!"

*SHRROOOOONG!*

*CRRRRKKKK!*

The ground trembles as a large skeletal claw unearths itself, then proceeds to pull the rest of its body free, revealing a large, 'alive', skeletal dragon.

A few men scream out in fear while others hold their ground, trusting the Dragonborn to not lead them to their deaths.

Flesh and scales return to the dragon's body, rebuilding it. Eventually, it stands before Surtr with an unintelligible expression on its face. "Zu'u drun hi zek wah daar suleyksejun, dovah. Qiilaak ahrk aam zey, kriid do Alduin, vahriik wah Bormah." (I bring you back to this realm, dragon. Submit and serve me, slayer of Alduin, heir to Akatosh.) Surtr states as he locks eyes with the beast.

Vahriik wah bormah? Hi los pahlokaal, gut zos wey rok." (Heir to father? You are arrogant, far more than he.) it growls back suspiciously.

Surtr makes a show of looking around, "I don't see Akatosh disagreeing. An almighty being such as he should have the ability to reject my claims, shouldn't he?"

"Vahzah, but perhaps you are just not worth the time. Tiid fos los povaan wah rah do tiid. (Time which is abundant to the god of time.) it says, adding further insult to injury.

Surtr snarls at it in, his response sounding scarily animalistic in its tone, "Watch yourself beast, I will put you back in the ground faster than I pulled you out, I swear to that. Now, WILL. YOU. SERVE?" he growls out, letting his intent to devour its soul clear.

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While the two competing Dragonborn were collecting dragons like pokemon to strengthen their respective empires, Michael was toiling in his laboratory with the Cat of Nine Lives sitting on his desk before him.

With the help of Shadow Shaman, Rubick, and a recent addition, Shadow Fiend, he'd finally discovered a way to drain the pieces of Clavicus' soul that he'd imbued in the artifacts... Of course, this did come with some issues, none of which actually concerning reality itself...

Flashback :

Michael had entered his consciousness into the world that Shadow Fiend decided in, and of course, it looked just as you'd imagine. Shadow Fiend's world somehow looked significantly worse than Mehrunes Dagon's. At least in the Daedric Prince's domain his followers were allowed some degree of freedom, if not in mind than in body.

But Shadow Fiend? His world was almost entirely comprised of a shadowy, melted substance that was almost certainly the souls of his victims. The screams were deafening, wails of the accursed screaming for release, while the shadows that formed their 'bodies' reached out to him, seeking a way out of their torment.

Michael brushes them off, aware that these souls were probably not real considering these worlds were just constructs that the Book of Demigods had created.

And, since these souls were all connected to one being, it doesn't long for Shadow Fiend to locate him... Out of the shadows a red light forms, creating two dim red orbs that glare at him with ferocity.

"What have you done, mortal... How have you acquired my soul!?" Shadow Fiend exclaims as his demonic form bursts into existence before Michael.

Michael shrugs however, "Through a series of unconnected events I've unfortunately come to possess many souls, including yours. I'd free you if I could but it seems to be impossible... So, why don't we try negotiating?"

"Hmph, most mortals know better than to negotiate with demons. You seem foolish enough however, so let's. What do you have to offer?" the demon asks, its shadowy body circling Michael like a lion hunting its prey.

"You teach me what you know about souls and their manipulation, and I'll try free you when I have the chance. Fair, isn't it?"

...

"Not fair, not fair at all! Why don't I just pluck away your soul instead? I suspect my prison won't hold after that."

Michael shakes his head, "The thing is, it's not really me that holds your soul but an object in my possession. If I die you'll still just be stuck in it, at the mercy of whoever next picks it up." he explains.

That, seems to stump the demon. Nevermore, the Shadow Fiend, was used to always having the advantage, whether it be power, knowledge, or even just knowing what his target desired most. In his current state however, in this unnatural, random place that he'd apparently gotten trapped in without his knowing, he was utterly at his captor's mercy.

"Fine, let us make the deal... But, you do know what a Devil's Deal entails?" the demon asks, holding its hand out that shimmered with crimson light.

Michael nods, "Yeah, I heard about it from a green friend of mine... Speak your true name."

"Nevermore."

"I promise to free you, Nevermore, once I have the capabilities to do so. In return, you will teach me all you know of souls, their manipulation, and their uses. Do we have an accord?"

"We do."

They shake hands, binding the agreement, and Michael began his tuition under a being potentially more evil than most Daedric Princes...

Flashback end.