Clavicus was the first to notice Molag's arrival, and he asked the Lord of Domination "Tortured any mortals recently?", to which Molag Bal replied "Of course, I never get tired of watching them squirm as their intestines spill onto the floor whilst they scream for mercy. Pathetic". Clavicus was a decent acquaintance of Molag's ever since the stout little being granted the Cyrodiilic Vampires the gift of coping in the sunlight, whilst Molag preferred their suffering, he was able to get his Nirn servants to do more things, carry out his bidding during daylight mortal hours, at the expense of shared worship between him and the Lord of Bargaining.
The host himself then acknowledged Molag's appearance, and greeted him with ''Ah Molag! Any nice young girls that have felt your wraith recently? Any tiny, puny, expendable mortals feeling you dig your horns into their petty skin!' It seemed that all of the other Daedric Lords associated Molag Bal only with the torture and killing of Mortals. Good, that was the way he wanted it.
"Sheogorath.", he greeted the Madgod with a repeat of his name, before replying "Yes. Peryite and I have planned to release a undead plague to Nirn, to kill all of the mortals. It might work, it might not, it matters little. But it will certainly be more effective than Mehrunes' pathetic invasion a few hundred years ago, that I will assure you."
Molag always spoke his words with a sinister tone to his voice, a certain menace and spite that was not impressionable. He didn't mind the Daedric Prince of Madness, insanity wasn't Molag's thing, he has more favourable of physical torture than the mental kind, but he appreciated his power.
As long as he wasn't too insane and didn't get on his nerves, Molag could put up with him, if he was in a good mood, which he was, a rare thing. But the effect of the Volkihar Vampires doing well for themselves, their plot to end the 'tyranny of the sun' pleasing him, the mortals certainly wouldn't be happy with their beloved sun disappearing. He remembered how crazy the Khajiit cat-people went when the moon disappeared, and the image of them running around panicked when the sun disappears brought a smile to his face.
That, combined with the plague Molag and Peryite had put together put him in a good, socially acceptable mood, the undead roaming the plane of Mundus was certain to bring death and pain to Mortals, which made the King of Rape smile even more.
Sanguine then stood up, and went on about some a new form of that intoxication liquid that he so loved. Molag didn't get the concept. Why drink a substance that makes the subject fumble and slur, that also clouds their judgement and makes them incompetent. To Molag, the fact that mortals loved the stuff only further proved their pettiness and stupidity, and their suitable punishment of eternal torture under the Molag Bal's thumb more justified.
In his good mood, however, Molag decided to give the liquid a go, a chance to prove itself worthy to his taste. He walked over to the table before anyone else could, pushing Malacath aside as he approached. He picked up a tankard of the steaming, slightly glowing purple coloured liquid. He twisted his head around the container held in his large, clawed hand, getting a good look of the 'Jazbay Wine'.
Satisfied that there were no tricks or anything on the goblet or in the liquid, Molag chucked the wine down his neck, it burned his throat a little, causing the Lord to twist his neck a little and pull a slight grimace in his face. Petty, just as he had thought. He still didn't understand why mortals were so fascinated with, or why they make a habit out of drinking alcohol, and why Sanguine was equally obsessed. Molag Bal turned his back to the platter, and proceeded to walk away, disgusted and unimpressed.
The liquid didn't even taste nice, and he didn't get the point. Pathetic. Or perhaps he needed another taste to get the gist of the concept. It wouldn't hurt to have another mug of the liquid. Molag found himself turning back around and heading back to the table where the wine was based, the other Daedric Princes gathering around. Molag pushed them all out of his way with muscular arms, so a clear path was between him, and the tankards of purple liquid.
Molag grabbed one, and downed it. Then another. And another. He was beginning to understand. Although the liquid didn't particularly taste nice, or even supply any pleasure, the feeling was mystifying, the experience addictive. His arms found themselves repeating an action of picking up a mug, drinking the wine inside, throwing it away and then rinsing and repeating.
He then moved onto whole bottles, and found an effective routine of picking up a bottle, holding it above his mouth and smashing it with his other hand, glass shards and the sweet nectar falling into the bowels of his stomach. Some of the Daedric Lords watched the out-of-character Lord of Domination perform this unusual ritual of intoxication, and Molag Bal was beginning to like this ritual.
