Cru still scanned the areas he passed for spiders, but his fear had lessened. He had just taken down a giant spider, the culmination of frightening things for him, and he felt he had the power of his ancestors at his side, should he need it again. He didn't know how to harness it willingly yet, but his father said that they would come to his aid when he needed it most. That was enough for him.
The corridor he was moving down narrowed, with each wall only a foot or so away from his shoulders. Ahead was a wide room with a natural stone pillar in the center, connecting with both the floor and the ceiling. Water dripped from the top, and ran down the side until it pooled onto the floor. In the wall to the left of the pillar, he saw a wide, short opening in the wall. He could make out what looked like a skeleton lying on its back, still clothed in light armor. He wondered if it was one of his ancestors.
Cru stepped into the room and looked around. He realized that there were several of these skeletons, some lying in slits in the wall like the first one, others standing in vertical crevices with their arms crossed and touching the opposite shoulders. All of them were clad in ancient armor. The bones were not completely devoid of flesh; there was a dry layer of what used to be skin over most of their bodies. They were much more unpleasant to look at than an actual skeleton. He became uneasy as he scanned the room.
These aren't...
He heard a rock fall to the ground ahead of him. He raised his shield and maintained a defensive stance. He heard a footstep. A sword was being drawn from behind the pillar, but he could not see who was approaching. He backed up a step, and waited. The unidentified attacker took two more steps.
“Uurgh!”
Cru caught a glimpse of movement to his left, taking his attention away from whoever was behind the stone pillar. He turned and saw one of the corpses had come to life. It held a very large, ancient battleaxe and swung it through the air at Cru. He blocked and pushed back. The creature hit the wall behind it. It felt no pain, and showed no emotion. It's eyes were glowing a pale blue, and it continued to hold the same cold expression as it moved forward again, making foul groaning and growling noises. Cru could now see the remaining muscle tissue and tendons along the zombie-like monster's limbs.
Draugr!
Draugr. Ancient, undead Nordic warriors believed to be the original residents of Skyrim. Historians claim that they once served dragons, and that some even learned dragon speech. Cru read about them in books that his parents brought home. It was another piece of Nord history that he was well educated about, but he had never actually seen one. He had only seen depictions of them by artists in the books he read. They were much more foul to behold in front of him than in the books.
“Come on, you monster!” Cru egged the Draugr on. It made another loud groaning noise and swung at him. He blocked again and shoved it back even harder, countering with two slashes to its chest. Suddenly, an arrow whizzed past his head. He looked to his right to see two more Draugr, one with a bow, and another one approaching with a large two-handed sword. He took a couple steps back and raised his shield. The two melee Draugr moved in to attack.
Cru gripped his sword a little tighter. He was alert and ready. Both Draugr swung their weapons at the same time. He blocked the axe with his shield, and caught the sword with his own. He forcibly rotated his sword outward, throwing one Draugr off balance for a moment. Cru then pushed the axe wielding Draugr back with his shield and stabbed it in the chest. Not hesitating for a moment, he removed his sword, spun around and slashed at its neck, nearly cutting its head off and sending it flailing to the ground. Another arrow flew, but Cru turned and caught it with his shield. The two-handed sword came down, but the Nord stepped to the left quickly and struck the Draugr in the shoulder.
Cru struck again, this time at the Dragur's leg. Then the ribcage, then the head. It was staggered for a moment, but took a haphazard swing at his opponent. It was blocked with Cru's sword again, with the shield reinforcing the block. Cru pushed the weapon back and stabbed the Draugr in the head. It fell to the ground and didn't move. Cru turned his attention to the last one.
The undead archer fired another arrow, which was blocked again by Cru's shield. It began to draw another arrow, but before it could prepare the shot, Cru charged forward and stabbed it in the stomach, chest, and neck. It dropped its bow and fell. Cru spun around and scanned the room to make sure the previous two were dead. He turned back around and saw that the archer was not recovering. He listened and heard nothing. The others that had not come to life did not appear to have been disturbed.
Woe to the unwary explorer who delves deep into the burial crypts of the ancient Nords, and disturbs the Draugr that dwell within.
He remembered the old Nord verse from when he was a child. Woe to him, indeed. These creatures were tough, and felt no pain. He knew he had to remain alert, or he would lay dead among his ancestors before the day was out. He continued through the barrow, keeping alert for more undead atrocities.
He came to a short hallway leading into the next room and stopped. Something isn't right. He looked around and listened. Nothing. He took a step forward, and heard the sound of a rock hitting the ground behind him. He spun around and raised his shield. A frightened skeever ran off and hid. He turned around and focused on the hallway again. After several moments, he stepped forward. Suddenly, a grating sound echoed through the room. He looked up to see the edge of a blade sticking out of the wall in the hallway. He jumped back, but not quite in time. His shield arm was sliced open near the shoulder. He cried out in pain, dropping his sword and clutching his wound.
There were three large axes, one after another, now swinging back and forth through the hallway. The one in the middle swung in the opposite direction of the other two. Had he taken another step before the trap activated, he'd be dead, and he knew it. He looked at his shoulder, which was now bleeding profusely. His iron armor left both of his arms bare and vulnerable. He lifted up his right hand and concentrated, calling upon his healing powers once again. The orange light swirled around his body, and began concentrating itself on his wound. It slowly closed, but it didn't heal completely before he could not summon any more power.
Great.
His arm was still tender, and it would take a little while to regain his magicka reserves. He sat down in in the corner of the room, watching the axes swing back and forth. He readjusted to get more comfortable, when he heard a small clinking sound. The potion! He had completely forgotten that he picked up a small healing potion just inside the entrance to the barrow. He grabbed the bottle out of his pouch and looked at it. The fluid inside was red, and magical golden colors swirled around slowly inside. He was very familiar with this particular type of potion. His parents had it around regularly. They were hunters and often hunted dangerous game, getting injured in the process. When they didn't have time to use their healing magic, they could quickly open one of these bottles, drink the contents, and continue.
He held the bottle with his left hand and pulled the cork out with his right. Holding down the bottle as he pulled hurt his injured shoulder. Once it was open, he drank it within seconds. He barely finished before he started coughing. This potion tasted foul and bitter compared to what his parents made. They always added berries and sugar to sweeten it. He tossed the bottle aside, and watched as his wound glowed slightly. It closed quickly, and soon all signs of injury were completely gone. Even the soreness that usually came with using his healing magic was not present. He happily stood up, grabbed his sword and sheathed it. He moved toward the swinging axes.
The axes swung in unison. Every time they'd swing, there was a pause. Just long enough to sprint through. He contemplated crawling under them, but they were too low. He stood ready to run through the hallway. He counted out his own timing between the swings. One, two, swing. One, two, swing. He leaned forward slightly and prepared. One, two, swing! He began running as soon as they started swinging. They returned to their position in the walls for another pause. The axes swung down again as he passed the third one.
Cru just barely made it out of the hallway. He halted shortly after, having been stopped by a wall that was only a few feet ahead. He looked back, his heart pounding. The axes continued swinging at their regular intervals.
“Thank Talos,” he said with a sigh. He continued deeper into the barrow.
It was getting cold. Cru shivered a moment and continued, listening closely and scanning his environment for threats. He continued on an uphill slope through a dark corridor, barely lit by cracks in the ceiling high above. It seemed to be getting colder. The corridor became very dark, making the walls to his sides barely visible. Soon there was light ahead. And snow. Curious, he sped up to see it.
As he stepped out of the dark corridor, he was on a thin bridge, hardly more than his shoulder width. It was covered in snow. The walls to the side were fairly far away and had ice so thick on them that the rock beneath could not be seen. Below was a deep pit, the bottom of which could not be seen. He took a few wary steps forward and continued to the middle of the bridge. He suddenly froze in place. Ahead was a tall, white monstrosity. He did not see it at first, as its white fur allowed it to blend easily with its surroundings. It was facing away from Cru. Its arms were long and muscular, reaching all the way to the ground. Its breath vapor could be seen pillowing out into the air. It probably wasn't friendly. Cru backed up a step.
Crack!
He nearly stepped off of the side of the bridge. A rock chipped off of the side and went tumbling into the ravine below. The creature turned around and growled. It had the snout of a gorilla, only more mangled, and with sharp teeth. It was a frost troll. It began charging across the bridge, grunting the whole way. Cru regained his footing and drew his sword. He didn't have time to back up, so planted his feet and prepared.
The troll swung its right arm. Cru managed to block, but was pushed back, stumbling momentarily. Having barely recovered, he raised his shield again to block a strike from its left hand. He was pushed back some more, and felt the heel of his boot step off the edge of the bridge. The troll reared back with both arms in the air, and brought them down in a mighty swing. Cru swung his Orc sword upward as hard as he could, cutting the both of the troll's arms and stopping its attack short. It stepped back, arms bleeding, and growled angrily.
Seeing the opportunity, Cru ran toward the creature. It began to move forward as well, but before it could attack, he swung his sword and slashed its chest, drawing more blood. This only appeared to make it more angry. He prepared to swing again, but the creature quickly landed its fist on his left cheek. It moved forward and grabbed the stumbling Nord by the waist, holding him up. Cru slashed down on its left shoulder several times before it finally dropped him. Not hesitating, he smashed his shield into its face to disorient it more, and stabbed at its gut.
The sword penetrated the troll's flesh, but before it could go too deep, the troll grabbed the blade and pulled it out. It threw its arm to the side, throwing Cru off balance. Its hand and stomach were bleeding now, but it still wasn't showing any signs of backing down. It ran forward again, both arms outstretched and its mouth open, bearing many sharp, yellow teeth. Cru quickly regained his balance and pointed his sword toward the troll. When it came closer, he shoved the blade forward, directly into its mouth. It stopped. He pulled the blade out and the creature stood a moment, looking shocked. Blood was pouring out of its mouth, and it reached up to feel its wound. Cru reared back with his sword, and swung hard at its neck. The troll toppled and fell off of the bridge, careening into the cold blackness below.
Cru wiggled his jaw. It was a bit sore from the punch he took from the troll. Nothing serious. Not worth my magic. He began crossing the bridge, keeping his sword at the ready. The bridge began to slope downward slightly, leading into another cavern. He entered quietly, watching for more danger.
He began losing track of time. He wasn't sure how many hours he'd spent going deeper and deeper into the mountain. He had killed several more Draugr at this point, each of them becoming more effortless to kill. He could easily see the Warrior Stone's effects, as his skills were sharpening with every fight. He was very pleased. Eventually, he stopped being as concerned about the Draugr and walked into every room with confidence. The only times he had difficulties were when there were several at once trying to swarm him, in which case he would try to back up into a narrow corridor and force them to attack him one at a time. After that, a single Draugr from a coffin had put up somewhat of a fight, but was soon struck down like the rest.
Next to that Draugr's coffin was a stream of water. A metal gate stood directly in the path of the stream. He pulled a chain hanging next to it, and the old, rusted gate slid upward, allowing him to pass through. He continued to follow the stream until he reached a room with a passage to his right. He followed it for some time without encountering anything. Finally, a spark of excitement filled him as he approached a solid iron door.
Opening the door, Cru entered a large, dark room, with several stairs leading up at a very gradual pace. Up ahead was a large door with three large, concentric circles in the middle. As he approached the door, he felt as though a whisper passed through his body, and a stone emplacement to his left suddenly lit up. He quickly turned to see a small fire on top of it. It was an ancient lamp. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary, aside from the fact that the fire had lit itself. The room was glowing with the soft orange light, his shadow on the wall behind him dancing to the pattern of the flame. He felt the whisper pass through him again. A chill ran down his spine as he continued to the door.
(Continued)
The corridor he was moving down narrowed, with each wall only a foot or so away from his shoulders. Ahead was a wide room with a natural stone pillar in the center, connecting with both the floor and the ceiling. Water dripped from the top, and ran down the side until it pooled onto the floor. In the wall to the left of the pillar, he saw a wide, short opening in the wall. He could make out what looked like a skeleton lying on its back, still clothed in light armor. He wondered if it was one of his ancestors.
Cru stepped into the room and looked around. He realized that there were several of these skeletons, some lying in slits in the wall like the first one, others standing in vertical crevices with their arms crossed and touching the opposite shoulders. All of them were clad in ancient armor. The bones were not completely devoid of flesh; there was a dry layer of what used to be skin over most of their bodies. They were much more unpleasant to look at than an actual skeleton. He became uneasy as he scanned the room.
These aren't...
He heard a rock fall to the ground ahead of him. He raised his shield and maintained a defensive stance. He heard a footstep. A sword was being drawn from behind the pillar, but he could not see who was approaching. He backed up a step, and waited. The unidentified attacker took two more steps.
“Uurgh!”
Cru caught a glimpse of movement to his left, taking his attention away from whoever was behind the stone pillar. He turned and saw one of the corpses had come to life. It held a very large, ancient battleaxe and swung it through the air at Cru. He blocked and pushed back. The creature hit the wall behind it. It felt no pain, and showed no emotion. It's eyes were glowing a pale blue, and it continued to hold the same cold expression as it moved forward again, making foul groaning and growling noises. Cru could now see the remaining muscle tissue and tendons along the zombie-like monster's limbs.
Draugr!
Draugr. Ancient, undead Nordic warriors believed to be the original residents of Skyrim. Historians claim that they once served dragons, and that some even learned dragon speech. Cru read about them in books that his parents brought home. It was another piece of Nord history that he was well educated about, but he had never actually seen one. He had only seen depictions of them by artists in the books he read. They were much more foul to behold in front of him than in the books.
“Come on, you monster!” Cru egged the Draugr on. It made another loud groaning noise and swung at him. He blocked again and shoved it back even harder, countering with two slashes to its chest. Suddenly, an arrow whizzed past his head. He looked to his right to see two more Draugr, one with a bow, and another one approaching with a large two-handed sword. He took a couple steps back and raised his shield. The two melee Draugr moved in to attack.
Cru gripped his sword a little tighter. He was alert and ready. Both Draugr swung their weapons at the same time. He blocked the axe with his shield, and caught the sword with his own. He forcibly rotated his sword outward, throwing one Draugr off balance for a moment. Cru then pushed the axe wielding Draugr back with his shield and stabbed it in the chest. Not hesitating for a moment, he removed his sword, spun around and slashed at its neck, nearly cutting its head off and sending it flailing to the ground. Another arrow flew, but Cru turned and caught it with his shield. The two-handed sword came down, but the Nord stepped to the left quickly and struck the Draugr in the shoulder.
Cru struck again, this time at the Dragur's leg. Then the ribcage, then the head. It was staggered for a moment, but took a haphazard swing at his opponent. It was blocked with Cru's sword again, with the shield reinforcing the block. Cru pushed the weapon back and stabbed the Draugr in the head. It fell to the ground and didn't move. Cru turned his attention to the last one.
The undead archer fired another arrow, which was blocked again by Cru's shield. It began to draw another arrow, but before it could prepare the shot, Cru charged forward and stabbed it in the stomach, chest, and neck. It dropped its bow and fell. Cru spun around and scanned the room to make sure the previous two were dead. He turned back around and saw that the archer was not recovering. He listened and heard nothing. The others that had not come to life did not appear to have been disturbed.
Woe to the unwary explorer who delves deep into the burial crypts of the ancient Nords, and disturbs the Draugr that dwell within.
He remembered the old Nord verse from when he was a child. Woe to him, indeed. These creatures were tough, and felt no pain. He knew he had to remain alert, or he would lay dead among his ancestors before the day was out. He continued through the barrow, keeping alert for more undead atrocities.
He came to a short hallway leading into the next room and stopped. Something isn't right. He looked around and listened. Nothing. He took a step forward, and heard the sound of a rock hitting the ground behind him. He spun around and raised his shield. A frightened skeever ran off and hid. He turned around and focused on the hallway again. After several moments, he stepped forward. Suddenly, a grating sound echoed through the room. He looked up to see the edge of a blade sticking out of the wall in the hallway. He jumped back, but not quite in time. His shield arm was sliced open near the shoulder. He cried out in pain, dropping his sword and clutching his wound.
There were three large axes, one after another, now swinging back and forth through the hallway. The one in the middle swung in the opposite direction of the other two. Had he taken another step before the trap activated, he'd be dead, and he knew it. He looked at his shoulder, which was now bleeding profusely. His iron armor left both of his arms bare and vulnerable. He lifted up his right hand and concentrated, calling upon his healing powers once again. The orange light swirled around his body, and began concentrating itself on his wound. It slowly closed, but it didn't heal completely before he could not summon any more power.
Great.
His arm was still tender, and it would take a little while to regain his magicka reserves. He sat down in in the corner of the room, watching the axes swing back and forth. He readjusted to get more comfortable, when he heard a small clinking sound. The potion! He had completely forgotten that he picked up a small healing potion just inside the entrance to the barrow. He grabbed the bottle out of his pouch and looked at it. The fluid inside was red, and magical golden colors swirled around slowly inside. He was very familiar with this particular type of potion. His parents had it around regularly. They were hunters and often hunted dangerous game, getting injured in the process. When they didn't have time to use their healing magic, they could quickly open one of these bottles, drink the contents, and continue.
He held the bottle with his left hand and pulled the cork out with his right. Holding down the bottle as he pulled hurt his injured shoulder. Once it was open, he drank it within seconds. He barely finished before he started coughing. This potion tasted foul and bitter compared to what his parents made. They always added berries and sugar to sweeten it. He tossed the bottle aside, and watched as his wound glowed slightly. It closed quickly, and soon all signs of injury were completely gone. Even the soreness that usually came with using his healing magic was not present. He happily stood up, grabbed his sword and sheathed it. He moved toward the swinging axes.
The axes swung in unison. Every time they'd swing, there was a pause. Just long enough to sprint through. He contemplated crawling under them, but they were too low. He stood ready to run through the hallway. He counted out his own timing between the swings. One, two, swing. One, two, swing. He leaned forward slightly and prepared. One, two, swing! He began running as soon as they started swinging. They returned to their position in the walls for another pause. The axes swung down again as he passed the third one.
Cru just barely made it out of the hallway. He halted shortly after, having been stopped by a wall that was only a few feet ahead. He looked back, his heart pounding. The axes continued swinging at their regular intervals.
“Thank Talos,” he said with a sigh. He continued deeper into the barrow.
It was getting cold. Cru shivered a moment and continued, listening closely and scanning his environment for threats. He continued on an uphill slope through a dark corridor, barely lit by cracks in the ceiling high above. It seemed to be getting colder. The corridor became very dark, making the walls to his sides barely visible. Soon there was light ahead. And snow. Curious, he sped up to see it.
As he stepped out of the dark corridor, he was on a thin bridge, hardly more than his shoulder width. It was covered in snow. The walls to the side were fairly far away and had ice so thick on them that the rock beneath could not be seen. Below was a deep pit, the bottom of which could not be seen. He took a few wary steps forward and continued to the middle of the bridge. He suddenly froze in place. Ahead was a tall, white monstrosity. He did not see it at first, as its white fur allowed it to blend easily with its surroundings. It was facing away from Cru. Its arms were long and muscular, reaching all the way to the ground. Its breath vapor could be seen pillowing out into the air. It probably wasn't friendly. Cru backed up a step.
Crack!
He nearly stepped off of the side of the bridge. A rock chipped off of the side and went tumbling into the ravine below. The creature turned around and growled. It had the snout of a gorilla, only more mangled, and with sharp teeth. It was a frost troll. It began charging across the bridge, grunting the whole way. Cru regained his footing and drew his sword. He didn't have time to back up, so planted his feet and prepared.
The troll swung its right arm. Cru managed to block, but was pushed back, stumbling momentarily. Having barely recovered, he raised his shield again to block a strike from its left hand. He was pushed back some more, and felt the heel of his boot step off the edge of the bridge. The troll reared back with both arms in the air, and brought them down in a mighty swing. Cru swung his Orc sword upward as hard as he could, cutting the both of the troll's arms and stopping its attack short. It stepped back, arms bleeding, and growled angrily.
Seeing the opportunity, Cru ran toward the creature. It began to move forward as well, but before it could attack, he swung his sword and slashed its chest, drawing more blood. This only appeared to make it more angry. He prepared to swing again, but the creature quickly landed its fist on his left cheek. It moved forward and grabbed the stumbling Nord by the waist, holding him up. Cru slashed down on its left shoulder several times before it finally dropped him. Not hesitating, he smashed his shield into its face to disorient it more, and stabbed at its gut.
The sword penetrated the troll's flesh, but before it could go too deep, the troll grabbed the blade and pulled it out. It threw its arm to the side, throwing Cru off balance. Its hand and stomach were bleeding now, but it still wasn't showing any signs of backing down. It ran forward again, both arms outstretched and its mouth open, bearing many sharp, yellow teeth. Cru quickly regained his balance and pointed his sword toward the troll. When it came closer, he shoved the blade forward, directly into its mouth. It stopped. He pulled the blade out and the creature stood a moment, looking shocked. Blood was pouring out of its mouth, and it reached up to feel its wound. Cru reared back with his sword, and swung hard at its neck. The troll toppled and fell off of the bridge, careening into the cold blackness below.
Cru wiggled his jaw. It was a bit sore from the punch he took from the troll. Nothing serious. Not worth my magic. He began crossing the bridge, keeping his sword at the ready. The bridge began to slope downward slightly, leading into another cavern. He entered quietly, watching for more danger.
He began losing track of time. He wasn't sure how many hours he'd spent going deeper and deeper into the mountain. He had killed several more Draugr at this point, each of them becoming more effortless to kill. He could easily see the Warrior Stone's effects, as his skills were sharpening with every fight. He was very pleased. Eventually, he stopped being as concerned about the Draugr and walked into every room with confidence. The only times he had difficulties were when there were several at once trying to swarm him, in which case he would try to back up into a narrow corridor and force them to attack him one at a time. After that, a single Draugr from a coffin had put up somewhat of a fight, but was soon struck down like the rest.
Next to that Draugr's coffin was a stream of water. A metal gate stood directly in the path of the stream. He pulled a chain hanging next to it, and the old, rusted gate slid upward, allowing him to pass through. He continued to follow the stream until he reached a room with a passage to his right. He followed it for some time without encountering anything. Finally, a spark of excitement filled him as he approached a solid iron door.
Opening the door, Cru entered a large, dark room, with several stairs leading up at a very gradual pace. Up ahead was a large door with three large, concentric circles in the middle. As he approached the door, he felt as though a whisper passed through his body, and a stone emplacement to his left suddenly lit up. He quickly turned to see a small fire on top of it. It was an ancient lamp. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary, aside from the fact that the fire had lit itself. The room was glowing with the soft orange light, his shadow on the wall behind him dancing to the pattern of the flame. He felt the whisper pass through him again. A chill ran down his spine as he continued to the door.
(Continued)
