Unentertainment

The Daedric Princes who still had Champions remaining continued to observe the 'Hunt', though, a few weren't satisfied with how things were going. Mehrune's Dagon in particular due to the fact that his Champion, Silus, had been enthralled by Vaermina's Champion, Erandur.

"THAT DISGUSTING WEAKLING! HOW DARE HE FAIL ME AFTER ALL I'VE GRANTED HIM! HE'LL BURN FOREVER WHEN HIS SOUL RETURNS TO ME!" the Daedric lord roars in fury, ignoring the other Princes who were watching his tantrum.

"Perhaps you shouldn't have tortured him until his mind broke then, maybe then he wouldn't have been so easy to influence." Vaermina remarks.

Dagon growls at her and points a fanged finger at her face, "Speak not of this to me, you hypocritical harpy! YOUR OWN CHAMPION LACKS EVEN HIS OWN THOUGHTS, HE IS LESS THAN EVEN AN UNDEAD, YET YOU SPOUT EMPTY PLATITUDES!?"

"These are not the same thing. You broke your Champion, while I improved mine. There is no weakness to be found in Erandur, perhaps a lack of creativity or initiative, but I think it will be enough to win the day." Vaemina says.

"I am surprised that Boethiah's Champion bested Hermaeus Mora's. I had half a thought to ban those Black Books of his, as they act as a direct portal to his own realm..." Hircine states as he looks upon the victorious Karakis.

"Yes, well, while he lacks cunning or ambition, he makes a good tool for now. Though, if we wish to speak about Champions, let's address yours, Hircine. If he's even your Champion in the first place." Boethiah retorts speculatively.

"And what do you mean by that, 'Sister'?" the Lord of the Hunt inquires.

Boethiah hums in thought, "This, 'World-Hopper' doesn't seem to worship you, nor does he care to honour you judging y his reluctant to collect our artifacts for you, he barely adheres to the rules you put in place... One might think that he's a last-minute addition to secure your victory in this. This can't be however, as that would be quite treacherous and unsportsmanlike..." she trails off as the other Princes glare at Hircine.

"That boy does seem slightly too strong." Sanguine murmurs, uncaring of the fact that Mephala's Champion had stolen the Ring of Namira that should rightfully be his.

"Bah! Strong!? He merely cleaned up what was left of Malacath's Champion after he'd fought Molag Bal's vampire and Meridia's Vigilant!" Dagon says.

"We should even the odds then." Clavicus interjects, "Your boy's artifact allows him to hunt our Champions down one by one. Hardly fair for this Hunt."

"Indeed." Mephala agrees, knowing that her own Champion stood no chance if they could easily be tracked by Hircine's artifact.

"Then what do you suggest, Clavicus? Lest I remind you that your own Champion technically possesses two artifacts of their own." Hircine retorts.

Clavicus laughs, "That Chain hardly counts as an artifact, if we were making claims like that then we should have your Champion remove all of that Ebony Armour and go into battle with but a loin-cloth... As for my thought on this Hunt? We should stop making our Champions wander around aimlessly while waiting to get ambushed by the World-Hopper, and put them somewhere to have a proper deathmatch!"

Boethiah nods, "Agreed, that would actually make this worth watching."

Hircine lets out a disgruntled huff, "That would turn this Hunt into nothing but an arena show-match!"

"Let it be, Hircine. It's either this or we find some other way to even the odds." Dagon threatens with a fanged grin.

...

Hircine looks over each Champion and eventually nods, he was confident in Michael's ability to win, it just didn't sit well with him to alter the Hunt. Sure, if everyone was in agreement then no rules would be breached, but that didn't mean he liked it.

"Let Clavicus' Champion fight Boethiah's, then we'll discuss entering the 'End-Game'." he states, with everyone else nodding.

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Unfortunately for Boethiah, Karakis is first met by Ulfric Stormcloak and his large retinue an hour or so after killing Laverius, his body was tired and his throat was raw from the Thu'um he'd been forced to use...

Ulfric and his men stop their horses a good distance away from Karakis, knowing full well how deadly the Champion was with Boethiah's Ebony Mail. "Hold there Daedra worshipping scum! For murdering innocent Stormcloak men and women, along with destroying the goods they carried, you will be sentenced to death!" Galmar shouts, addressing the tired-looking Karakis.

The Champion just smiles however, this was exactly what he'd wanted... Now he was face to face with Ulfric Stormcloak and his generals. Whether he wins or loses, it would be a battle to write about, perhaps they'd sing of him like Ragnar the Red? "Ulfric Stormcloak! Just who I was waiting for! Have you finally come to accept my challenge!? To fight as an honourable Nord should!?"

Ulfric shakes his head, "There is no honour to be found in a fight against you, a Daedra's lapdog would only know to grovel and beg for false power." he gestures dismissively at the man, "Even now you challenge me while wearing that Daedra-cursed armour. Have you no shame!?"

Karakis pauses and looks down at his armour, his face morphing into one of regret and barely concealed anger. He thinks for a moment before finally deciding his own fate. "And if I were to rid myself of the armour, would you accept my challenge? My goal is Sovngarde, and I believe you're the one to send me there."

...

His words cause a small commotion through the Stormcloaks. Before, everything considered Karakis to be a traitorous dog of evil gods, but now? They were beginning to see him as a pitiful Nord trying to regain his honour. This, of course, was not something Ulfric could ignore.

"Rid yourself of that armour and I'll fight you. Let it be known that redemption, while difficult, is never impossible." Ulfric states.