Just below the west cliff of the imposing Tu’whacca’s Throne temple, I spy a solitary figure guarding what looks to be a Daedric summoning circle. So intent was the crouched figure upon her duty that she failed to notice my approach. As I rode closer I soon recognized the unmistakable golden armour of one of Sheogorath’s Golden Saints.
If ever there was a misnomer, it is in the name ‘Saint’, for there is nothing in the nature of these creatures of virtue or benevolence. Even for Daedra they are infamous for their cruelty to all those they consider inferior, including other Daedra. Their pride and arrogance is perhaps matched only by the martial Dremora of the Deadlands.
I have little idea what mischief the Mad God has planed so deep in the desert, but after the way he has toyed with me in my dealings with the Mages Guild, little would give me more pleasure then to gain a whit of payback and spoil whatever game he plays.
Too late I learn however that this is no ordinary guard, but turns out to be a General of sorts, and you don’t get to be a Daedric General without bloody deed and viscous achievement on the battlefield; and more often than not, the brutal supplantation of the titles previous owner.
She proves to be a most formidable opponent, but then, so do I.