Fire On The Mountain (A Skyrim Quest)

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What Lies In Bleak Falls Barrow

Do'azda knows she does not have long to plan. The monster is not going to stop and let her hold a conversation with Soahin. "Divide and conquer?" she said, her voice a hoarse whisper. "You go one side, Do'azda goes another?"

"As good a plan as any," Soahin says, still trying to shift her arm and rid it of the stiffness that the icy attack had caused. She is not at her best, but then neither is Do'azda. She steels herself, taking out her trusty axe. By now it seems like the best choice she has.

The axe felt heavy in Do'azda's hands. But then, she wasn't planning on swinging it around at random, all crazy. She needs to pick her moments to get a good hit in, because the General looks imposing, like he could shrug off a glancing blow as if it were nothing.

She can picture it, and what would happen to her next. She's cold, and she gathers herself, breathing in and out slowly, calmly even, as she rushes forward.

She briefly holds the axe in one hand to conjure up another being. A frostbite spider forms, chittering and still unusually big even though it was not the monster they'd slain. It clambers through a hole in the world, pulling itself out of Hircine's endless plane of fields, mazes and caves.

The General laughs contemptuously.

Again, the impossible and the horrific, the world itself turning upside down as the General shouts. No, it Shouts. "Fus."

The spider screeches with the frustration of a hunter denied its prey, as it folds back into unreality.

As she tries to get around to one side, and Soahin goes the other, it seems to hesitate for just a moment before going right after the most vulnerable target.

Do'azda.

It moves its battleaxe terrifyingly fast, sweeping it forwards and down, forcing her to leap backwards.

The axe is ready to sweep back again tremendously quickly, and she curses, lashing out with her own. The general twists to deflect the blow from its shield, and so misses the opportunity to land a blow with its axe, but it continues to advance, driving her back.

Her arms tremble with the effort as she continues retreating. She wants to fall back, down the stairs, away, but the general has anticipated her, cut her off. She feels as clumsy as a newborn kitten. He is not as fast as the movement of his axe, or she would be dead already. The dais is uneven, and she almost trips on a flagstone, broken and askew with age.

The General does not laugh, and indeed the harsh bark that comes from its mouth seems a little bit choked. She wonders whether the Shout still affects its throat even after death. Or it could be distracted, because Soahin is not letting the advantage pass her by. She stabs into the General's back, spins away from his counterblow, returns with a slash, but he keeps on advancing, shrugging it off and briefly turning to use his axe more as a way to force her back a few steps than anything.

Even with a shield, Do'azda does not blame Soahin for retreating. What she does note is how nimble Soahin is, despite all her injuries.

But it has still bought Do'azda time to retreat a little further and get on steadier ground.

Yet she finds no relief. The great stone upon the dais creeps into her peripheral vision on both sides, and she realises he has cornered her. A second later, she feels it behind her, vast and ancient, as she tries to step further.

A strange chant began when she entered the chamber, too faint to hear at first, but it has been rising, and now, slowly but all at once, it is everywhere, so loud she cannot hear her own breath, cannot hear the feet of the general as it approaches. Her eyes, too, lose focus.

A feeling settles in her chest. A sort of certainty that she is grander, stronger, more forceful than all else.

Invigorated, she strikes, her vision snapping back into sharp focus. Her axe sweeps the draugr's battleaxe aside, batters its shield down, and she strikes it, once, twice, thrice. Across the chest, back again, and then a final crunching blow to the solar plexus.

The draugr staggers backwards, releasing a huff of dusty air from its lungs, but it does not fall. Do'azda reaches for the feeling she had, but it is distant, beyond her reach. Her fingertips had grazed something grand, and now it slips from her.

The draugr moves implacably forwards. The splintered ruin of its shield scatters pathetically on the ground, but it is no less terrifying. She struggles to her feet, fumbling for her axe. She sees the draugr telegraph the swing almost too late - she cannot block, nor parry, and there is hardly time to dodge. Heedless of further danger, she throws herself backwards and away.

The axe catches her in the flank, and she feels the impact. She's weakened the general, and avoided some of the blow, but even still, the wind is knocked from her, and she can feel a warm wetness soaking her fur.

The draugr stands over her. She can see her axe lying where she dropped it, behind the draugr. It raises the axe. It has been scarcely a week since she last lay helpless, as someone stood above her, axe held aloft.

Soahin collides bodily with the draugr, driving her sword into its chest, through the splintered ruin of its solar plexus.

It sways, not even knocked from its feet by the impact, but the swordstroke has done enough.

Do'azda expects the blue light in its eyes to fade, but if anything, it intensifies, brightening until its whole head is awash with the blue fire burning in its eye sockets.

It turns its head to the sky.

"Krosis! Krosis, Saviik! Krosi-"

The blue fire dies, and the draugr drops, a puppet with its strings cut. The death-mask shatters, and the dagger slips noiselessly from the draugr's heart.

Do'azda stands, slowly and shakily. She tries to gather her thoughts, but it is as if there is a hole in her mental basket. She keeps on running over the same panicked thoughts again and again. Her mind is not quite working right. But she pants and she looks at the dead body. Soahin stands and watches it as well.

It has been a very short fight in one sense. Not a lot has happened: a lot has happened. She doesn't know which part of that sentence is true, but she is so tired she can't even really process it. "He's dead," Do'azda said.

"Been dead a long time," Soahin pants. She looks over at Do'azda. "Can you move fine?"

There is something different about the air itself, and when she looks over at the wall behind her? It seems like just any other wall, if covered with symbols she could not understand and cannot even begin to understand.

As she looks at the wall though, the sense she felt earlier returns, and seems to click into place.

"Fus," She murmurs, but there is something missing to it. A lack of power, or it felt a little more than that: a lack of intent. She didn't want to do anything with the syllable, and she didn't know if it is even possible to do something with it. Fus, isn't that what Ulfric Stormcloak Shouted? It wrecked his throat and required years of study, so of course simply knowing the start of a Shout would avail her quite little. And yet, strangely, it feels deep in her bones that she is not so far from being able to Shout as he did, all the same.

"What was that, shaman?" Soahin asks, looking up from the body of the draugr. "This one has found nothing so far. She wonders about looking for a chest? Soahin has heard there are chests in these dungeons, where the ancient nords left offerings to their dead…"

"This one supposes it is possible, but where?" Do'azda replies. "She has not seen any chest here."

Soahin shrugs.

Do'azda begins to pace, slowly trying to work out the cramps and pain in her legs, in all of her. There are streams, and there are… waterfalls. She blinks, peering into the darkness a little more. There's only some light, and her eyes take that light and do as much as they can with it. She thinks she sees something behind a small waterfall, sheets of water lapping down and flowing into the stream.

Is she willing to risk getting soaked just for a 'she thinks?'

Apparently so because she marches forward and reaches into the nook she thinks has to be there and begins to pull it out, bit by bit. It was a small wooden chest, though surprisingly not all that wet or rotted through. By luck? By magic? She doesn't know, but she pulls it out.

"Oh!" Soahin says, and she tries the other waterfall on the other side and… yes.

They have two chests, whatever is in the coffin--a few gems of low quality, a few old gold and silver coins--and of course the weapons. It is hardly a haul to transform the world, but they have the Golden Claw and they've survived.

The trek back to the surface takes almost as long as the trek up, but there's no danger, at least. A handful more draugr had awoken - or could have awoken - but lie sprawled on the stone floor of the barrow, puppets dropped by a dead master. Soahin stabs each and every one of them as she passes all the same. Do'azda cannot help but be nervous walking through the deactivated traps, but they remain similarly inert. There really are a lot of them: the two of them made their way through the kind of labyrinth that Do'azda associates more with adventure stories than reality.

And they're mostly intact. Well, more or less.

The charnel house of bandits they left in the entrance hall takes Do'azda slightly by surprise after the oddly bloodless violence of the battles with the draugr. The smell, too, turns her stomach. The draugr had smelt bad, but the mustiness of it, the rot, had disguised the scent of death and violence, the scent which hangs in the air of the entrance hall like an unwanted guest.

Soahin sets the chests down with a grunt. The locks of both chests have corroded into single solid pieces, and she settles down in front of one of the chests, dagger in hand.

"The shaman may take the other - this is not difficult work. This one has many times broken a rusted lock away from its chest, to see what lies within." She says, and begins to work; first hammering with the hilt of the dagger to break up the rust, then levering away pieces with the blade. "When these are done, Soahin will open the other - the chest the bandits brought?"

Inside hers was… ah. This is interesting. It is a necklace, and it is in far better condition than she has any reason to suspect it would be. There are rubies and sapphires hanging from silver chains, but the necklace itself is gold. It is worn a little, faded definitely, but… this is a very, very expensive necklace and if someone knows where it came from it would either become valuable beyond price… or worthless, depending on where the desecration rates against the History in each link of the chain.

It is a gaudy thing, nothing like what a Khajiit would ever wear. Unless they want to or want to look pretty. Or feel like it, or… okay, Khajiit routinely wear things at least as gaudy when they can afford it.

Do'azda does not think she's going to be keeping it… or Soahin, depending on who chooses what.

"It's rusted," Soahin says, pulling out a sword. "But it feels as if there's powerful magic still anchored to it. Perhaps the shaman could draw the enchantment from it? Or perhaps Soahin will find someone else? The wizard in the Jarl's court? He may buy the books from the chest of the bandits, at least?"

Loot Division!

34 Septims (1 point each)
60 Gold Coins (worth, probably, ½ point each)
One powerful enchanted sword (rusted) (Value: ???)
One gold, silver, and gemstone necklace (Value: ???)
2x Emerald (12 points each)
1x Sapphire (8 points each)
Fur Armor (x3) (3 points each)
Iron Warhammer (5 points) (Decent quality)
Steel Sword (5 points) x2 (Good quality)
Steel Dagger (3 points) (Good quality)
Hunting bow (3 points) (Good quality)
Draugr Greataxe (5 points) (Decent quality)
1x Spell Tome: Flames (8 points)
1x Spell Tome: Illumination (Light) (8 points)
1x 'A Handy Guide to Lockpicks' (3 points)
1x 'The Queen's Lover' (3 points)
1x 'Assorted books which have rather "controversial" or "explicit" woodcuts.' (3 points)
2x Cheap Bottles of Wine (1 point each)

Handy dandy loot vote! (Choose one of the sword or necklace) (73 points to spend)



******

Do'azda is already making for the steps, making to return to Riverwood when Soahin mentions it.

"The blizzard has stopped."

She turns, puzzled that Soahin is stopping her still atop the mountain. "Khenarthi has driven the clouds from the sky it would seem. We were in the Barrow for some time, Soahin."

"The girl with the unfortunate suitors told this one that the blizzard was older than the village itself, shaman. This is strange. We travel beyond Riddle'thar's sight."

Do'azda frowns. "Perhaps she exaggerated. Perhaps there are often short breaks in the blizzard?"

Even to herself, the words sound false, but there is little else to do but hope.

The trip down is a little easier, though it's also later than they expect, getting towards late afternoon. With the trek back to Riverwood before them, and battered and bruised as they are, it seems unlikely they will get back to the village before dusk.

So she realizes they'll have to stay the night. This means there's a little free time, perhaps…

What to do? (Choose 1)

[] Go visit the witch. She has alchemical experience, albeit dark experience. Perhaps she could help Do'azda with the alchemical training she'll need to provide for whoever she chooses. Yes, the witch has something of a black reputation but that is also a sign of skill, in another sense.
[] Go to the tavern, she could use a drink and perhaps trying to socialize with the locals to make up for the lost reputation. Maybe she'll even meet Liesl again. She enjoyed the dance she had with the Nord girl… perhaps there will be an encore.
[] She doesn't have the energy to actually 'attack' it, but perhaps Do'azda could check out the local mines, see if there really are signs of bandits there.

VM AN: Sorry, this one took a while. Finished the first major dungeon, though! Your plan was okay, though your general propensity towards conjuring an animal as your go-to is tactically a little limiting.

TL AN: Oh! We could show you the chart, but rest assured that this was an above-average outcome… but could have gone a *lot* worse. Anyways, so loot! Loot loot loot!