Trials of a Daedra

Warning to Readers: The following story is based on the Elder Scrolls series and it is told from the point of view of a demonic lifestyle known as The Daedra. As such, this story will highly center around demonic influences and beliefs, if you dislike reading such things, you have been warned!


Full Summary: A young Daedra worshiper dies at the hands of prejudice crusaders, but rather than suffer for his weakness, his god has other plans for the worshiper…

Chapter 1:


Horen stood before his shrine, dressed in a blood stained robe as he offered up the lion pelt as a sacrifice to his Daedric god, Molag Bal, the corruptor of men. Horen was a young wood elf, or at least young as far as elves were considered. He was nearly his late 20’s and had almond colored skin and silky blond colored hair. His muscles were toned due to the rather unique offering required for Molag Bal’s shrine being the pelt of a lion, which weren’t exactly easy to hunt for. What had first lured Horen to the practice of Molag Bal was his reputation.

Horen may have been young, but he was known for having a twisted sense of humor when it came to toying with other’s lives. Molag Bal was known as the corruptor of men, the king of rape, and the father of all vampires. Although Molag Bal had long ago lost interest in his blood sucking undead when he discovered they made poor slaves and weren’t suited to the task he had originally designed them for. Horen also heard that Daedric lords were sometimes known for blessing their worshipers with unique and powerful items and magic, which drew Horen to him, hoping to unlock the secrets of demonic power. He had to admit, ever since worshiping Molag Bal, he had some rather amusing tasks he was given, one of his most favorite was two months ago when he had faked his own death at the hands of a noble paladin who had sworn off violence as a pittance to failing to protect his dead wife. He hadn’t been back to the paladin’s home since then, but he had heard rumors of how the paladin’s good name was tarnished for having attacked and “killed” the young elf right on the sight of his wife’s grave!


As he finished making the sacrifice, Horen took his seat on the bench as the priest began to read off from the book on the podium, helping to spread the words of Molag Bal to the worshipers. Horen had eventually come to realize that these fools worshiped Molag Bal out of either fear of his wrath, or lust for his power. Not like the young wood elf who saw Molag Bal for what he was, an artist of corruption and a mastermind of some truly sinister irony. Molag Bal didn’t simply cause mortals to get angry, he went above and beyond that, he caused them to do acts so dark and twisted, that the very act damned their souls, or destroyed everything they had ever struggled to achieve. Horen couldn’t help but admire and idolize the god, he simply couldn’t bring himself to fear this creature’s work and he wouldn’t dare try to leech off his power just to satisfy his own needs. No, he worshiped Molag Bal because he wanted to, not because he had to.


Horen listened to the words of the priest, but he kept his gaze fixated to the shrine the entire time, admiring the carving of the god who looked like some humanoid jackal holding a sinister looking mace. The mace of Molag Bal, Horen had gotten the chance to wield that weapon for an entire week as a reward for causing a priest of Talos to cannibalize an orphanage of children with a spell that sealed all exits from the building. Only when the priest had eaten the children and the food supplies ran empty was he permitted to leave the building, now branded as a monster and a demon among his fellow priests for eating the children. Of course, the priest was too far gone into despair and malice now to even try pleading his case as they burned him at the stake.


Suddenly, there was a terrifying shockwave as the preacher was blasted a lightning bolt so powerful, it sent him flying into the shrine statue, smashing his head open on the stone as he fell dead. Horen leapt to attention as did the rest of the worshipers as he turned to see five people charging the shrine, three of them wearing steel armor from the neck down, while the fourth was wearing a full suit of leather armor and the fifth looked to be a mage, carrying a staff which crackled with electricity and wearing a set of green robes and hood. All five of the people wore an identical amulet with an inscription that was slightly familiar to Oren. The three armor clad people were all male dark elves, two of them carried shields with hold wielding a silver long sword and the other a silver axe, while the third carried a silver claymore. The archer was a female Khajiit carrying what looked to be a silver bow with silver arrows as well, while the wizard was a male high elf.

“The Knights of the Thorn shall cleanse this world of your vile demon filth, huzzah!” shouted the dark elf carrying the claymore as their archer let fly an arrow, skewering an imperial worshiper through his stomach as he fell over to his knees just in time to be decapitated by the axe wielder.

Horen finally recognized them, it was the Knights of the Thorn! A rather pathetic band of wanabe knights lead by the son of count Cheydinhal, although ever since the defeat of Mehrunes Dagon during the great oblivion crisis, their organization had flourished in power and prestige, now that they had actual experience with hunting and destroying demons.

“Come on men! The silver will purify their souls on their way to the gods, huzzah!” shouted the leader as he rushed Horen, ready to cleave him in two. But the young wood elf had been prepared for this as he raised his hands into the air, working furiously to build up the spell before he was sliced.

“Feel the wrath of Molag Bal!” roared Horen as the spell was completed and a scamp appeared before him, instantly launching off fireballs at the charging dark elf who dodged out of the way despite his heavy armor and weaponry. Horen watched as yet another worshiper was cut down and a silver arrow lanced through his scamp’s forehead, sending the creature back to Oblivion as Horen was impaled all the way through with the silver claymore.


Horen expected himself to simply die and that would be it, to have his soul tormented for eternity in the flames of Oblivion for failing his master. But that was not the case, for as he was skewered on the sword, his body suddenly erupted into flames, causing both the knights as well as any surviving worshipers to look on in shock. Horen’s body was wracked with agony in every since of the word before finally vanishing into a miniature mushroom cloud of smoke and fire, leaving nothing but his clothing and any items he might have been carrying behind.


The next thing Horen knew, he was spiraling through the air, falling through the sky of some desolate wasteland who’s sky looked like it had been scorched with magma while there was absolutely no sign of vegetation in sight down on the ground. He watched as below him, he seemed to be plummeting into a river made out of molten lava, and he screamed and writhed in agony as he plunged into it and was filled with heat that he never even knew could exist! He was only vaguely aware of the fact that the lava had some kind of current he was being pulled through as his body continued to burn and scorch, he wondered why he was not reduced to ashes or simply melted like he normally would have done had he been dropped into a pit of lava.

Amidst his agony, he felt a powerful hand grip his arm and yank him out, dropping him onto the scorched earth and speaking to him in scratchy, echoing voice. Horen finally managed to regain his senses enough to see that the one who saved him from the lava was none other than a Dremora, the highest ranking species of demon next to Daedra lord!

“Stand, mortal! Lord Molag Bal has an offer he would give to you, and it is best not to keep the master waiting…” said the Dremora, only barely managing to fit some level of respect into his voice. Horen stood up, realizing he was totally naked in his charred wasteland, but didn’t dare ask for any clothing as he knew full well how to treat a Dremora. He had made such a mistake only once in his entire life as a Daedra worshiper, and the emotional and mental scars he received would haunt him for the rest of eternity.

He began to follow the Dremora as he noticed what appeared to some a sigil tower located a few hundred yards off into the distance. Realizing it was going to be quite the walk, Horen decided he’d try asking a few questions provided that they weren’t too demanding of his demonic host.

“Sir…” said Horen, causing the demon to only give him a growl as they continued walking, “I was killed in battle… at least I think I was… Why would Molag Bal wish to offer me something, shouldn’t I be punished for my weakness?” he asked, causing the Dremora to ease up only a slight bit in it’s posture and attitude as it surprisingly answered his question!


“Under any normal circumstances, you would be tortured, mutilated, and scorched for eternity for daring to fail Lord Molag Bal,” said the Dremora, glancing back at him, “But you are a special case. Molag Bal has been watching you and the way you think of him. You are not like his cowardly and power hungry worshipers, but a true believer in his work. It is for this reason that Molag Bal has decided to grant you an offering which has not been given to anyone since the beginning of the Dwemer wars of Morrowind!” replied the Dremora, “If you refuse, you can expect to be cast into punishment just like any other mortal, and this is a one time only offer.” it finally added.


Horen dared not ask any further questions even though he was dying to know what such an offering of ancient origins could be. Sure he worshiped Molag Bal to the point where it almost seemed he was in love with the demon, but he wasn’t aware that he was the only worshiper to do so, surely there should have been others who truly idolized his greatness!


The trip was relatively uneventful, although Horen noticed several mortals who were being tortured by various Daedra, some were even being sexually abused! But he guessed that for the King of Rape, it wasn’t uncommon for his demonic servants to have a rather untamed streak of lust. A Daedroth held an Argonian maiden to the ground while it ravaged her body with it’s impossibly sized genitals, literally beginning to rip her apart in the process. The giant alligator humanoid being far to massive for the much smaller lizard who wasn’t even half it’s size by comparison.


Finally, they arrived at the tower and the Dremora escorted Horen inside. He thought he wouldn’t have to hear any more tortured screams now that they were in doors, but he was wrong as it seemed inside was five times worse than outside! Souls were found nailed to the wall and set on fire as they screamed and begged for forgiveness and freedom from their misery as more Daedra poked and prodded at their bodies with weapons and claws. And at the back of the room stood a large throne, with none other than Molag Bal sitting upon it. His half man, half jackal form giving him a sort of Anubis style appearance as he seemed to be impatiently waiting for something.


“Ah, Horen, my first true worshiper!” said Molag Bal as the elf and his Dremora escort stepped up to the throne. Molag Bal was indeed a powerful lord, he was nearly ten feet tall despite sitting down in the throne, and his muscles were finely tuned much like a barbarian who had seen far too many battles. His only clothing seemed to be a tattered loin cloth made of human skin, and his mace lay across his lap, half grasped in one hand.

“I want to offer you the chance that you have been longing for… it is a token of my congratulations for being the first ever worshiper of mine who hasn’t come flocking out of cowardice or a thirst for my power.” said the god. Horen was about to ask exactly what the offer was when his master answered for him, “I want to offer you the chance the become a scamp, the lowest species of Daedra as a reward for serving me.” said Molag Bal, causing Horen’s mouth to drop in surprise at what he had just head.

Molag Bal… wanted to make him into a Daedra!