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"And so it is decreed, that each Prince of Oblivion shall offer one champion to fight in their name, in order to determine which Prince is of the greatest power." Meridia recited, folding her arms and staring across her fellow Prince's with a triumphant smirk. "Well, we all know that I'm going to win this."
"You?" Sanguine burst out. "HA! I think you'll find my champion will win. She possesses the Sanguine Rose, why wouldn't she?"
"Because she is nowhere near as amazing as my champion, fool." Boethiah sneered. "My champion wears my ebony mail. With that, she is sure to triumph."
"I would have to disagree with you, my friend." Azura put in softly.
"As would I!" Hircine snarled.
"Down, boy!" Clavicus Vile chuckled, sneakily scratching behind the hunter's ear. Hircine tried not to kick his leg out at the touch as he shoved the Prince of Deals into Peryite.
"Hey!" He yelled, picking a cockroach from Namira's shoulder and shoving it in Hircine's face. Sanguine burst into giggles.
"Boys! Would you all behave for a moment, please!" Nocturnal called loudly, silencing the rabble. She bowed her head. "Thank you. Now, I personally find it problematic that we are putting our champions of different skill and purpose up against each other in a fight to the death. My Nightingale is trained in stealth, whereas Molag Bal here has trained his in brutality. I find that hugely unfair... on Molag."
"Hold on just a damn minute, woman!" Molag Bal sniffed, hands on hips. "My champion weilds my mace! What does your songbird have, eh? Temporary invisibility?"
"Also intelligence, which is more than I can say for you." The Patron of Thieves smiled cruely as Sanguine made an 'oooooooooo' noise from behind her. Molag stood with his mouth agape for a minute before responding.
"My champion will crush your champion with my mighty mace! And then perhaps I'll order her to crush you!"
"As if she could." Nocturnal flipped her dark hair over her shoulder. "She'd be dead before she even made it to the Evergloam."
"Oooh, the dark with has a bite!" Sheogorath chuckled, spinning in a circle. Namira shot him a dirty look and moved away. "But alas! Your Wabbajack was superior to all of my doo-hickey's! Ya know why? Cause madness is merry and merryment's might! HA!" The Prince of Madness finished his dance by shooting a blue light at Vaermina, turning her into a frog. The frog gave an indignant croak, hopping about and glaring (as best as a frog could glare) at Sheogorath. Namira picked her up and placed her on her shoulder silently. Vaermina ribbeted happily.
"Your Wabbaflap? As if! It's not that great, you know. It turns a daedra into a mudcrab until you hit it again and turn it back!" Sanguine summoned a pint of mead and took a long swig. "Poor, poor planning my mad friend!"
"Ah! But is it?" Sheogorath giggled. He began waltzing around the room, quickly sweeping Azura into his arms. The Prince of dusk and dawn smiled, going along with it happily.
"Yes... well..." Peryite folded his great dragon hands over his chest. "Even if any of your champions were able to overpower mine, their powers will never cross Spellbreaker."
"That ugly thing?" Mehrunes Dagon roared with laughter. "Well, it certainly will repel everything that comes near."
"You take that back!" Everything quickly fell to shambles; Dagon and Peryite got into a fist fight, Sheogorath was still waltzing with Azura, Nocturnal started a 'brain over brawn' arguement with Molag, Meridia distracted Hircine by shining light on the wall and watching as he pawed at it, Sanguine started summoning lusty argonian maids to defile, Malacath simply stood there screaming and Namira shot flying cockroaches at Clavicus with the help of froggy Vaermina. Nobody notices the slimy precence of Hermaeus Mora until he softly spoke in his normal creepy voice.
"I hhhhhate to interrupt... but hhhhave you nooooticed that all of yoooour chhhampions seem to be... feeeeemale?" The rabble stopped dead, each of the Prince's staring at the tentacles.
"What about it?" Azura asked. "Women can be champions."
"Buuuuut dooon't you thiiiiink it odd?" Hermaeus Mora said.
"Odd? No. Exciting? Yes!" Sanguine cast the last argonian maid aside and rubbed his hands together. "Strong women fighting each other to the death for the chance to be considered the greatest champion? Hot, hot, hot!"
"Shut up, Sanguine!" Azura, Meridia, Nocturnal, Namira and Vaermina shouted (and croaked) in unison. Sanguine pouted.
"Well, I think my champion will win... for you see, she is Dragonborn!" Molag Bal said triumphantly. There was silence for a moment as what Molag said set in.
"Hold on just a second!" Nocturnal fumed. "MY champion is Dragonborn!"
"No, mine is!" Namira yelled.
"Mine!" Hircine roared.
"I thiiiiiink you will all fiiiiiiind that the draaaaagonborn is champion to all of uuuuuuuus."
"That sixteen timing harlet!" Molag Bal raged.
"Boy, she sure does get around!" Sanguine laughed. "But seriously, she's mine."
"I had her first!" Clavicus shouted. "She'll be my champion."
"No, mine!" This continued on for many months, until the dragonborn was reportedly seen in Sovngarde. The daedric prince's groaned collectively, knowing they had missed their chance of possessing such a soul. Only Hermaeus Mora knew the truth of the situation, that the Dovahkiin was on a mission to defeat the world eater. He considered speaking up, but the look on his cousins faces were simply too good to stop. Being the Prince of knowledge was not at all shabby.