His example

Chapter 1: Devious plan. 

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Stewing. He'd been stewing over his defeat since...well...he'd forgotten. 

Mehrunes Dagon, Daedra prince of destruction and revolution, sat in his realm, in his blackened throne in his highest spire stewing.

The sheer anger he felt. The shame of being defeated by a mortal. It was enough to make him scream. But he didn't. He seethed, his eyes burning with the audacity of it all. 

Since he'd returned to his realm, known to the mortals as the Deadlands, weak and beaten, he'd locked himself away in his tower to think. It had taken him generations to gain enough power to attack the mortal's home of Tamriel, only to be pushed back by a meddling  mortal, a two bit septim and that blasted God of theirs, Akatosh. 

It had all left a very bitter taste in the Daedra lord's mouth. 

He dreaded making contact with the other daedra now. what a laughing stock he would be. He'd never hear the end of it if Sheogorath had heard. which he probably had...

"Pathetic mortals...." He grumbled. "Can't even fight for themselves... have to get a God involved..." 

Three of his four arms rested on the armrests of his throne, the long black claws on each finger tapping away at the blackened stone. 

He needed more power. He needed a plan. 

Dagon knew he wouldn't be able to attack the mortal realm again for a long time. The power he'd gained from his followers was exceedingly weak now. It hadn't disappeared completely though and for that, he was pleased. 

He silently admitted to himself how stupid he felt. The other lords still had their followers. Still had constant power. They hadn't wasted it like he had done and they would continue to gain power while he sat in his tower, weak and angry. 

if only he could take some of theirs...Or maybe share some.

A deviant smile crept across his red lips and his fingers ceased drumming. Dagon was suddenly very pleased with himself for his new, cunning plan.

In the ever competitive realms of the Daedra lords, Mehrunes Dagon would force himself to become the almighty. He would best his daedric siblings and take power for each, if not most of them in order to return himself to former glory. 

Pushing himself out of his throne, Dagon stretched with a hiss and a soft pop as his stiff joints moved. He'd been sat in that throne way too long he'd thought to himself. 

"That will change..." He hissed with glee. 

What he was planning to do would keep him out of his throne, out of his realm and satisfied. Something he hadn't been in a long time.