Standarr-fish

"Michael...!? There's some guests here for you!" Tiffania unsurely shouts up the stairs of the Spire, prompting Michael to come down...

"Who?"

"Vigilants of Stendarr..."

...

"How many? I doubt they'll start a holy crusade against me without at least a hundred guys." he remarks while stepping towards the door.

"Only around ten, I think, unless there were more hiding... Try to not get any more blood on the steps, last time it took multiple fire and water spells to clean it." she asks while folding her arms.

He shrugs, "We'll see how intelligent they are first."

Michael heads outside and closes the door behind him before focussing on the Vigilants now surrounding him. They weren't in combative stances yet but it was clear they were prepared for it, maybe they were still unsure of his status as a Daedra? With the way their eyes turn to his horns, they've probably figured it out by now though... "Yeah? You need something?"

"Michael Tahlin, or should we call you Mikhail Vile now?" a man in fine robes under steel plate armour accuses.

"Whatever you're most comfortable with." he dismissively admits, not seeing a point in denying it.

"So you admit your guilt then?"

"Guilt? What am I guilty of?"

"Everything Clavicus Vile previously committed. We are well aware of what you've become, it's only a matter of time before you become an evil that must be slain, perhaps it is already too late."

"You guys clearly have no clue what I am, first, I am not Clavicus Vile. I killed that piece of shit and freed all the innocent souls he had of their torment. Shouldn't you guys be celebrating the death of a Daedric Prince?"

"The process of Mantling means that you will soon be a threat, one we cannot allow." the Vigilant draws his blade at points it at Michael, "As you've admitted your guilt, we will strike you down now before you can become something truly malicious. The process has yet to complete, you are without your full strength." the man states, as if he knew everything and had experienced it first hand himself...

"Yeah, that's the thing though, you guy's can't do shit..." he drawls, taking a step forward and raising his hands challengingly, "Let's just get this over with, take your shot and then I'll take mine."

...

The Vigilants all look at one another unsurely, Michael's confidence taking them off-guard... They'd expected him to flee or call for help, not ask them to strike him and warn them of certain death.

"Well? If you aren't going to grow some balls then I'm going back inside, I've got a hot elf inside waiting to get stabbed instead!" he exclaims, loud enough for Tiffania to hear through the door...

"Y-you asked for it, foul Daedra!" the lead Vigilant growls and charges, chopping at Michael's neck.

*Ping!*

...

Everyone stops and stares at the blade trembling against Michael's neck, blue scales blocking it completely from doing any harm at all.

"Right. Die." he says, causing all the men present to flop down lifelessly, all completely and utterly dead.

He claps his hand off and opens the door, "See? No blood."

"Only bodies..." she shakes her head, knowing that this was how Michael is and would always be, "You're going to 'Stab' me?"

He grins, picking her up and taking her upstairs, leaving the corpses where they are, "Well, if you're so curious."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After the visit from the Vigilants of Stendarr, Michael didn't get many other guests, aside from a group of Khajiits who wished to declare him their one true god... He rejected them of course, saying that being a 'proper' god was too much work.

They left, taking his jokes and other remarks as 'nuggets of wisdom' from their deity... Michael didn't interfere, wondering just what would come of, also wondering if there was some way for him to Rick Roll the entire world... No one but him and his friends would know about it, but it'd be funny nonetheless.

Regardless, Michael turned his attention to a project he'd been working on ever since he became a god. Introducing the Spirits in his book to Tamriel, and making them comfortable in Winterhold, along with making sure they didn't destroy the town for whatever reason.

He'd started summoning the spirits in a field not from the forest of ice, first bringing Shadow Shaman into the realm. He intended to bring those who he was confident in so that they could restrain the less trustworthy folk.

Riki was summoned next, the assassin grinning as he spoke with Rhasta, making snide remarks about Michael and his many failings up until now, something the Shaman could agree with as he'd known Michael for longer than even Riki.

Slark was out of the question, the annoying fish refusing to do anything Michael said even after easily defeating him in his most recent visits.

Anti-Mage and Wei were next, the Monk-girl stifling her wide smile as she looks around at the frozen region, taking deep breaths of the clear air. "About time, I thought you'd forgotten your promise."

Michael shakes his head, "You aren't completely free, but this is the best I can do for now... Plus, you and your master come as a duo, visiting is scary enough with him around, let alone summoning you..."

Wei glances over to the stern-faced Anti-mage, the man standing there with his glaive-daggers in hand, staring balefully at Michael... "Master?"

"You... Dead God." he growls, clearly remembering this presence from when the Temple was destroyed. He vanishes into blue particles and reappears behind Michael to take his head off, but is stopped by two figures.

Rhasta had bound Anti-Mage in magical chains, and Riki had blocked the man's weapons with his own daggers, easily protecting Michael from the deadly attack. "You know, assassinating in front of an assassin doesn't work out too well, Mage-Killer."

"Unhand me, wretched fiend! I will end this cur and avenge the Turstarkuri!" Anti-Mage shouts.