Cru's jaw hurt. He had been clenching his teeth for the past few minutes and had not noticed until he felt the ache. He opened his mouth and wiggled his jaw around. He took another breath, and slowly moved further down the hallway. As he breathed the cold air, he could see the vapor from his breath escaping his mouth and fading into the darkness in front of him. His eyes darted around wildly, searching for spiders. He hoped not to find any.
Further ahead, he could see an opening to a larger room. There was more light there, but not a lot. He stepped into the room and scanned the area. Ahead of him was a wall, with another opening to the right that went straight into another room. There were smaller holes in the wall that would allow him to see into the next room, had they not been covered in spider webs. Great. The only way forward was through the opening to the right. It had a thin layer of web over it. He checked around him one more time, and walked toward the opening.
As he approached the opening, he heard a strange sound from the room ahead, like a person grunting. He gripped his sword and shield as he stepped through the doorway. Gasp! He took several quick steps backwards, trembling violently with fear. He almost dropped his sword. It was a spider. A very large, very vicious frostbite spider. It was as tall as him, and it's legs were thicker than his arms. It's abdomen could fit an entire person in it, and then some. It was the largest spider he had ever seen. It hadn't noticed him, as it had it's back turned to him, focusing on whatever was making the grunting noise that Cru had heard. He figured it was a person trapped in the web. Cru ran to the back of the room and vomited in the corner.
Taking several breaths, he composed himself as best as he could, and slowly approached the wall. He quietly took down some of the web covering one of the smaller holes so he could see into the next room. The spider still had its back turned, working diligently on it's web. Cru caught a glimpse of a dark elf, also called a Dunmer, suspended in the air and being wrapped in the web. Cru shuddered. He backed up, put his sword quietly in his sheath, and withdrew his bow. He knew that the only way to go was through the spider's lair. He prayed to make it out alive.
He creeped over to the door sized opening, the spider still oblivious to his presence. He crouched, and aimed a steel arrow at it's abdomen. Pulling the string tight, he was still shaking, struggling to hold his aim. He took a deep breath, remembering what Angi said about shooting a bow under pressure. He had to remain calm, or he would die. Taking another breath, he focused. He held his breath, bit his lip, and released.
It seemed like minutes before the arrow struck the spider. Cru stared for a moment after it hit. The spider made a loud hissing sound that brought him back to his senses, and he shakily nocked another arrow, and fired again. It hit the spider's abdomen about a foot away from the first one. It began to turn around, and Cru almost vomited again in fear when he saw it's many eyes. He fired another arrow, striking the spider in the front of it's abdomen, just over it's head. It began to charge.
Cru sprinted to the back of the room and threw his bow down, grabbing his sword and shield. The spider stuck it's head through the opening, and it's two front legs reached as far as they could, scratching the floor in front of it. It's body was too big to fit through. Cru hyperventilated for a few seconds while he analyzed the spider's predicament. He sheathed his sword quickly, and grabbed the bow again. He nocked an arrow and fired. It hit one of the spider's eyes, causing it to hiss again and leap back. It ran to it's right toward it's large web, frightening the entangled elf and making him scream with fear.
“Aah! Get away from me!” The Dunmer struggled in vain in the web.
Cru ran to the opening, stopping before he passed through. The spider had turned back around, it's pierced eye oozing. It's fangs, long, thick and barbed, wiggled back and forth, dripping noxious fluids onto the ground. Cru fired another arrow, hitting it in another one of it's eyes. Before it could charge forward again, another arrow hit it in the front of it's abdomen again. It became frenetic, and began swinging its head back and forth, and flinging poisonous venom everywhere. Cru shuddered with fear and neglected firing another arrow. In that moment of hesitation, the spider charged forward, its gigantic fangs pointing almost directly forward.
Cru's eyes widened, and he panicked and fell backwards. He scurried backwards on the ground away from the doorway, barely escaping the spider's reach. It began spitting globs of poison. The first missed, but Cru jumped up and moved to the side. It kept trying to spit, but it could not aim directly at at him now. It backed out of the opening and hissed some more. It frantically ran around the room, angry and confused.
“Help! Get this thing away from me!” Cru could hear the panicked screaming of the elf, still suspended in the web. Cru was shaking violently again, and could not aim his bow. The spider's head suddenly appeared in the opening again, trying to squeeze through, unsuccessfully. It's head oozed and venom dripped from it's fangs. It wanted the Nord dead. Cru tried aiming his bow again, but could not keep it straight. He angrily threw it down and withdrew his sword and shield.
“I can't take it anymore!!!” Cru charged toward the spider with his Orc sword reared back. His blood felt like it was boiling, and he began to feel anger. Not just his own; he felt as though the anger of a thousand warriors was rising up inside of him. He let out a loud war cry as he approached the spider. Suddenly, there was a loud noise, but it only lasted a second. It was like the sound of the thousand angry warriors yelling in unison. The air around him released a powerful pulse of energy. The spider screeched and jumped back. It continued trying to back up until it hit a wall. Cru continued charging.
The spider began to turn and run away. It was afraid. Cru swung at one of it's left legs, cutting it clean off. It spun frantically back around, but before it could react, the Nord's sword was impaled deep into its head. The tip of the blade was exposed behind its fangs. Cru removed the blade and slashed angrily several more times. His fear had turned to rage, and he was taking it out on the spider, the very object of his fear. When the spider had been thoroughly sliced open in several places, Cru stopped and breathed heavily, staring at the foul creature. Suddenly, he held his breath.
What... what the hell happened?
He stood in disbelief, shocked at what took place. He had no idea what just happened, but whatever it was, in that moment, it helped him overcome his fear of the spider. This isn't because of the stone. This is... something else. But what?
“Hey!” Cru was startled by the voice of the dark elf. He had forgotten he was there. “Hey you! Cut me down!” Cru approached him. He was thin, with a long, sharp jaw and a pointed nose. He was wearing a leather helmet, but the rest of his body was hidden by the web he was wrapped in.
“You must be Arvel,” said the Nord.
“Yes, yes I am. Please, cut me down!” His voice was full of desperation. Cru said nothing for a moment. “Look, there is a treasure deeper in the barrow. If you get me down, I'll share the treasure with you. You won't believe the power that the Nords have been hiding here.”
“What power? What do you know about it?”
“Everything. The markings, the key to the Hall of Stories; I know how it all fits together! Now cut me down!” Cru looked into his eyes a moment, assuming he was lying. Then he nodded, and began to cut the web around Arvel.
“It's coming loose, I can feel it.” Arvel wiggled around with a bit more freedom. Suddenly, he fell down and hit the ground with a thud, face down. Arvel was thin, almost frail looking. The shape of his ribs could be easily seen through his dark blue-grey skin. He was not wearing any clothes or armor, besides the leather helmet on his head, and a pair of tattered shoes and pants. He stood up, and immediately turned around and sprinted deeper into the barrow.
“Fool!” Arvel yelled as he ran. “Why should I share the treasure with anyone?” Cru was not in the mood to be toyed with, having just been enraged by a giant spider. He just saved Arvel's life, and now he was turning back on his word and running away. Cru became angry and ran after him. Did he not see what I just did to that spider? Is he stupid?
“Get away from me, or I'll kill you!” Arvel's threats meant nothing to Cru. He caught up with him, grabbed him by the left arm and ran his sword through his back. He held him there a moment, and pushed the sword deeper. He pulled it up some, causing Arvel a great amount of pain. As the sword was removed, a large pool of blood began to form on the ground. The elf fell forward and stopped breathing. Cru stared at his body with disgust. He's just like I used to be. A liar and a thief. Probably a murderer like I was, too.
He noticed a small bag attached to a rope around Arvel's waist. Cru opened the bag. At the opening of the bag was a handle. He grabbed it and pulled it out. At the other end of that handle was a claw. A golden claw. It had three long, curved fingers with sharp nails at the end. The palm of the claw had three elevated, circular engravings on it. The top one, closest to the base of the fingers, had the etching of a bear. The middle bore an etching of a moth. The bottom was that of an owl. He wondered what it meant. In the bag was also a leather bound journal. Cru skimmed through it briefly, but the last page caught his eye. He read it.
My fingers are trembling. The Golden Claw is finally in my hands, and with it, the power of the ancient Nordic heroes. That fool Lucan Valerius had no idea that his favorite store decoration was actually the key to Bleak Falls Barrow.
Now I just need to get to the Hall of Stories and unlock the door. The legend says there is a test that the Nords put in place to keep the unworthy away, but that "when you have the golden claw, the solution is in the palm of your hands.
“The Hall of Stories? He wasn't lying!” Cru became excited. He was nearing the ancient burial ground of his ancestors, famous Nordic warriors to be forever honored. He had no idea the burial site was in Bleak Falls Barrow.
“The Hall of Stories is a place of legend,” his adoptive father would tell him. “It houses the bodies of the most famous Nordic warriors in the history of Tamriel. You, my son, are a Nord, and you should be proud to come from such a strong lineage. Their blood is your blood, and that makes you a great part of Tamriel's history. Nothing can take that away from you.”
“Why is it so important that I know this, father?” The adolescent Nord inquired.
“Because you must never forget where you come from. Deep inside the soul of every Nord is the power of his ancestors, and they will come to his aid when he needs it most. Know that one day, you will be able to harness your ancestors' power at will, and your enemies will fear you. You were born to do great things, Crujir, and if you honor your ancestors, they will ensure you survive long enough to carry out your destiny, I promise you. I love you, son.”
He stood a moment with the journal still in hand, and a joyous chill ran through his body. His adoptive parents were not Nords, but they instilled in him a great sense of pride, and educated him with as much history about his lineage as possible. For this, he was thankful. He wondered if the power of his ancestors was what helped him overcome the spider. In that moment, he longed to be back home with his parents. They weren't the parents that conceived him, but to him, it made no difference. They loved him as their own, and they were always honest with him about where he came from. He choked back his tears and composed himself.
Cru shut the journal and put it back in the bag with the golden claw. He moved deeper into the barrow.
Further ahead, he could see an opening to a larger room. There was more light there, but not a lot. He stepped into the room and scanned the area. Ahead of him was a wall, with another opening to the right that went straight into another room. There were smaller holes in the wall that would allow him to see into the next room, had they not been covered in spider webs. Great. The only way forward was through the opening to the right. It had a thin layer of web over it. He checked around him one more time, and walked toward the opening.
As he approached the opening, he heard a strange sound from the room ahead, like a person grunting. He gripped his sword and shield as he stepped through the doorway. Gasp! He took several quick steps backwards, trembling violently with fear. He almost dropped his sword. It was a spider. A very large, very vicious frostbite spider. It was as tall as him, and it's legs were thicker than his arms. It's abdomen could fit an entire person in it, and then some. It was the largest spider he had ever seen. It hadn't noticed him, as it had it's back turned to him, focusing on whatever was making the grunting noise that Cru had heard. He figured it was a person trapped in the web. Cru ran to the back of the room and vomited in the corner.
Taking several breaths, he composed himself as best as he could, and slowly approached the wall. He quietly took down some of the web covering one of the smaller holes so he could see into the next room. The spider still had its back turned, working diligently on it's web. Cru caught a glimpse of a dark elf, also called a Dunmer, suspended in the air and being wrapped in the web. Cru shuddered. He backed up, put his sword quietly in his sheath, and withdrew his bow. He knew that the only way to go was through the spider's lair. He prayed to make it out alive.
He creeped over to the door sized opening, the spider still oblivious to his presence. He crouched, and aimed a steel arrow at it's abdomen. Pulling the string tight, he was still shaking, struggling to hold his aim. He took a deep breath, remembering what Angi said about shooting a bow under pressure. He had to remain calm, or he would die. Taking another breath, he focused. He held his breath, bit his lip, and released.
It seemed like minutes before the arrow struck the spider. Cru stared for a moment after it hit. The spider made a loud hissing sound that brought him back to his senses, and he shakily nocked another arrow, and fired again. It hit the spider's abdomen about a foot away from the first one. It began to turn around, and Cru almost vomited again in fear when he saw it's many eyes. He fired another arrow, striking the spider in the front of it's abdomen, just over it's head. It began to charge.
Cru sprinted to the back of the room and threw his bow down, grabbing his sword and shield. The spider stuck it's head through the opening, and it's two front legs reached as far as they could, scratching the floor in front of it. It's body was too big to fit through. Cru hyperventilated for a few seconds while he analyzed the spider's predicament. He sheathed his sword quickly, and grabbed the bow again. He nocked an arrow and fired. It hit one of the spider's eyes, causing it to hiss again and leap back. It ran to it's right toward it's large web, frightening the entangled elf and making him scream with fear.
“Aah! Get away from me!” The Dunmer struggled in vain in the web.
Cru ran to the opening, stopping before he passed through. The spider had turned back around, it's pierced eye oozing. It's fangs, long, thick and barbed, wiggled back and forth, dripping noxious fluids onto the ground. Cru fired another arrow, hitting it in another one of it's eyes. Before it could charge forward again, another arrow hit it in the front of it's abdomen again. It became frenetic, and began swinging its head back and forth, and flinging poisonous venom everywhere. Cru shuddered with fear and neglected firing another arrow. In that moment of hesitation, the spider charged forward, its gigantic fangs pointing almost directly forward.
Cru's eyes widened, and he panicked and fell backwards. He scurried backwards on the ground away from the doorway, barely escaping the spider's reach. It began spitting globs of poison. The first missed, but Cru jumped up and moved to the side. It kept trying to spit, but it could not aim directly at at him now. It backed out of the opening and hissed some more. It frantically ran around the room, angry and confused.
“Help! Get this thing away from me!” Cru could hear the panicked screaming of the elf, still suspended in the web. Cru was shaking violently again, and could not aim his bow. The spider's head suddenly appeared in the opening again, trying to squeeze through, unsuccessfully. It's head oozed and venom dripped from it's fangs. It wanted the Nord dead. Cru tried aiming his bow again, but could not keep it straight. He angrily threw it down and withdrew his sword and shield.
“I can't take it anymore!!!” Cru charged toward the spider with his Orc sword reared back. His blood felt like it was boiling, and he began to feel anger. Not just his own; he felt as though the anger of a thousand warriors was rising up inside of him. He let out a loud war cry as he approached the spider. Suddenly, there was a loud noise, but it only lasted a second. It was like the sound of the thousand angry warriors yelling in unison. The air around him released a powerful pulse of energy. The spider screeched and jumped back. It continued trying to back up until it hit a wall. Cru continued charging.
The spider began to turn and run away. It was afraid. Cru swung at one of it's left legs, cutting it clean off. It spun frantically back around, but before it could react, the Nord's sword was impaled deep into its head. The tip of the blade was exposed behind its fangs. Cru removed the blade and slashed angrily several more times. His fear had turned to rage, and he was taking it out on the spider, the very object of his fear. When the spider had been thoroughly sliced open in several places, Cru stopped and breathed heavily, staring at the foul creature. Suddenly, he held his breath.
What... what the hell happened?
He stood in disbelief, shocked at what took place. He had no idea what just happened, but whatever it was, in that moment, it helped him overcome his fear of the spider. This isn't because of the stone. This is... something else. But what?
“Hey!” Cru was startled by the voice of the dark elf. He had forgotten he was there. “Hey you! Cut me down!” Cru approached him. He was thin, with a long, sharp jaw and a pointed nose. He was wearing a leather helmet, but the rest of his body was hidden by the web he was wrapped in.
“You must be Arvel,” said the Nord.
“Yes, yes I am. Please, cut me down!” His voice was full of desperation. Cru said nothing for a moment. “Look, there is a treasure deeper in the barrow. If you get me down, I'll share the treasure with you. You won't believe the power that the Nords have been hiding here.”
“What power? What do you know about it?”
“Everything. The markings, the key to the Hall of Stories; I know how it all fits together! Now cut me down!” Cru looked into his eyes a moment, assuming he was lying. Then he nodded, and began to cut the web around Arvel.
“It's coming loose, I can feel it.” Arvel wiggled around with a bit more freedom. Suddenly, he fell down and hit the ground with a thud, face down. Arvel was thin, almost frail looking. The shape of his ribs could be easily seen through his dark blue-grey skin. He was not wearing any clothes or armor, besides the leather helmet on his head, and a pair of tattered shoes and pants. He stood up, and immediately turned around and sprinted deeper into the barrow.
“Fool!” Arvel yelled as he ran. “Why should I share the treasure with anyone?” Cru was not in the mood to be toyed with, having just been enraged by a giant spider. He just saved Arvel's life, and now he was turning back on his word and running away. Cru became angry and ran after him. Did he not see what I just did to that spider? Is he stupid?
“Get away from me, or I'll kill you!” Arvel's threats meant nothing to Cru. He caught up with him, grabbed him by the left arm and ran his sword through his back. He held him there a moment, and pushed the sword deeper. He pulled it up some, causing Arvel a great amount of pain. As the sword was removed, a large pool of blood began to form on the ground. The elf fell forward and stopped breathing. Cru stared at his body with disgust. He's just like I used to be. A liar and a thief. Probably a murderer like I was, too.
He noticed a small bag attached to a rope around Arvel's waist. Cru opened the bag. At the opening of the bag was a handle. He grabbed it and pulled it out. At the other end of that handle was a claw. A golden claw. It had three long, curved fingers with sharp nails at the end. The palm of the claw had three elevated, circular engravings on it. The top one, closest to the base of the fingers, had the etching of a bear. The middle bore an etching of a moth. The bottom was that of an owl. He wondered what it meant. In the bag was also a leather bound journal. Cru skimmed through it briefly, but the last page caught his eye. He read it.
My fingers are trembling. The Golden Claw is finally in my hands, and with it, the power of the ancient Nordic heroes. That fool Lucan Valerius had no idea that his favorite store decoration was actually the key to Bleak Falls Barrow.
Now I just need to get to the Hall of Stories and unlock the door. The legend says there is a test that the Nords put in place to keep the unworthy away, but that "when you have the golden claw, the solution is in the palm of your hands.
“The Hall of Stories? He wasn't lying!” Cru became excited. He was nearing the ancient burial ground of his ancestors, famous Nordic warriors to be forever honored. He had no idea the burial site was in Bleak Falls Barrow.
“The Hall of Stories is a place of legend,” his adoptive father would tell him. “It houses the bodies of the most famous Nordic warriors in the history of Tamriel. You, my son, are a Nord, and you should be proud to come from such a strong lineage. Their blood is your blood, and that makes you a great part of Tamriel's history. Nothing can take that away from you.”
“Why is it so important that I know this, father?” The adolescent Nord inquired.
“Because you must never forget where you come from. Deep inside the soul of every Nord is the power of his ancestors, and they will come to his aid when he needs it most. Know that one day, you will be able to harness your ancestors' power at will, and your enemies will fear you. You were born to do great things, Crujir, and if you honor your ancestors, they will ensure you survive long enough to carry out your destiny, I promise you. I love you, son.”
He stood a moment with the journal still in hand, and a joyous chill ran through his body. His adoptive parents were not Nords, but they instilled in him a great sense of pride, and educated him with as much history about his lineage as possible. For this, he was thankful. He wondered if the power of his ancestors was what helped him overcome the spider. In that moment, he longed to be back home with his parents. They weren't the parents that conceived him, but to him, it made no difference. They loved him as their own, and they were always honest with him about where he came from. He choked back his tears and composed himself.
Cru shut the journal and put it back in the bag with the golden claw. He moved deeper into the barrow.
