The Borderlands forest was a region where the Shivering Isles interacted with other realms, where the energies of the Madhouse and other realms interacting caused unusual creatures to take shape that weren't actually under anyone's dominion. As such, it was one of the favorite hunting grounds of Hircine, the deer-skull-headed Daedra of the Hunt, since prey could be found there that appeared nowhere else. As such, he had unofficially claimed it as his own domain, where he honed his skills between Bloodmoons. As it wasn't official, he had no actual authority there - not that he wanted any to begin with - but none of the other Daedra felt the need to interfere, and so he was left to freely hunt.

This day, his prey was particularly unusual. He generally didn't decide his prey until after he'd found a creature, but as soon as he'd set foot in the forest this day, nearly every other tree spouted a stack of scrolls nailed to it, the one at the top reading 'Draconequus Season', and displaying a picture of a creature the likes of which Hircine had never imagined, let alone seen. While at first the mishmash had been off-putting, Hircine had eventually come to the conclusion that any creature that could survive in this forest looking like that long enough to get is own season for hunting must have impressive survival skills, making it a most intriguing prey.

Hircine himself carried very little with him. He wore only a loincloth in case he ran into Meridia, Azura, or Nocturnal. Had he encountered any of them without it, Meridia or Nocturnal would give him grief over his lack of modesty, while Azura would make him deliberately uncomfortable with advances and commentary until he fled in embarrassment while she laughed at him. He carried only a bow enchanted to generate its own arrows, having left his Spear behind to enjoy this hunt more. He'd even left his hounds behind, wanting to challenge himself solo against a creature, making it a truer hunt.

He followed the trail of mismatched tracks across soft grass, the side of trees, the undersides of low hanging clouds, and across the surface of water. He'd paused at the trail running across the surface of the lake, as the water had not reabsorbed the footprints left, revealing that this creature was obviously magical in some way, shape, or form...a magic it could probably use. Once Hircine got past the confusion of it using its powers to make its trail clearer like this, he became excited at the prospect of hunting something that could conceivably fight back at his level.

Eventually, he caught sight of the horn and antler, the top of the creature as it browsed through the forest, giggling at the sights of various creatures in all their shapes and sizes. As Hircine moved into position, the creature turned towards him, and he froze. He kept his hidden position as he stared into those strange yellow eyes. The creature then blew a raspberry at him and pulled a red bullseye out of the air, holding it over its chest.

Hircine felt himself smile. Apparently, this creature saw the hunt as a game, much as he did. He was not about to disappoint. Lifting the bow slowly, he pulled back the string as an arrow took shape, one with a bladed, barbed shaft to stick in the flesh to slow the creature down for a more exciting hunt.

Three fingers suddenly seized the arrow. "Hircine, a word if you will."

Hircine swallowed convulsively as he turned to the source of the voice. Sheogorath stared down at him, the ever-present smile missing from his face, reminding Hircine forcibly of the Mad Prince's true nature. Jyggalag had been the strongest of the Daedra, so strong that all other Daedric Princes had banded together to battle him to keep him in check, before applying the curse that had him living as Sheogorath. However, every so often even as the Mad Prince, a bit of Jyggalag slipped out, reminding those who witnessed it that - mad or not - Sheogorath was still technically the strongest of the Daedra. Hircine saw that now. "Sheogorath..." he managed to respond respectfully.

"Now, I know you are Prince of the Hunt," Sheogorath spoke up reasonably. "And I know my boy over there is plainly enjoying this game - he did set up all those flyers, after all, and I didn't even know he knew how to write - which is why I haven't interfered before now."

Hircine felt his bone face pale nearly to the point of crumbling to dust. His 'boy'? He was hunting Sheogorath's son? It wasn't common for Daedra of Prince rank to create - or take in - children to become wards and heirs, but it had happened on occasion through history...and the Princes always tended to be particularly protective of said wards during their formative years, as this one plainly was in. Hircine deeply regretted being a Daedric Prince at this moment: he had no one to pray to as far as getting out of this alive.

"If you wish to engage my boy in the Hunt Game, by all means do so," Sheogorath assured him. "I'll even watch and place bets with Sanguine, or maybe Azura. However, I suggest you keep it a Game, and not do anything that risked actually harming my boy." His white eyes glowed with an angry light. "If you were so reckless as to allow that to happen, I would be most...upset." He bared his teeth in an expression that was almost wolfish. "And then...well, I'd have to get creative in how I expressed that. And you wouldn't like me when I get creative."

Hircine nodded rapidly, focusing his power into the arrow to change the bladed and barbed head into something - anything - that would not be harmful. The metal warped to red fabric balled into a miniature fist.

Sheogorath released the arrow, grinning from ear to ear. "Oh, you can be creative too! Very nice!" He stepped back with a chuckle. "Well, this game should be interesting-"

The sound of tearing parchment drew their attention. Every stack of scrolls pinned to the trees had dropped the top scroll, revealing the one beneath it...which now read 'Daedra Season'.

Giggling like a loon, Sheogorath hiked up the skirts of his robes. "This is the part where we run away!" he proclaimed as he dashed off.

Confused, Hircine glanced towards the boy...caught sight of the weapon of metal, fire, and death it was wielding, and turned to follow Sheogorath's example.

Discord smirked as he equipped the proper garb. Donning a brown deerstalker cap and hunting jacket and carrying the shotgun in his mismatched hands, he stalked after his father and the deer-man with a cartoonishly long stride as he stuck to the ground. At one point, he paused and turned to his readers, putting a talon to his lips. "Shh!" he whispered playfully. "Be vewy vewy quieh! I hunnin...Daedwa!" With a playful giggle, he turned back to his hunt.