Prologue
The smell betrayed the beast before its ghastly appearance did. The creature was huge. Taller than an adult Altmer and broader than an Orc. Its rotten flesh bloated and ripped open at several places, revealing sharp shards of bone. It walked slowly, barely moving its upper torso as it deliberately placed one foot before the other. Like a puppet, operated by an invisible puppeteer. Every time it took a step, bones could be heard rumbling inside their fleshy casing. A Bonewalker. A revenant guard, summoned by powerful magic. Iorveth had read about these creatures. According to the old tomes, the shambling horrors aren't sentient, but they are able to cast curses upon the unfortunate fools that dare to challenge them. Nasty magic that drains the victim from his strength and endurance. A prayer performed at a shrine or a common potion can cure the ailment, but the magic of the curse leaves the victim vulnerable to the considerable physical strength of the undead horror. Brainless as it may be, this is not an enemy to underestimate.
Suddenly, as if sensing Iorveth's presence, the Bonewalker turned in his direction. The face that stared at him from across the hallway, dimly lit by the torch in his hand, could only be described as pure horror. Iorveth could see the pale, blind eyes sitting in their decaying sockets. Most of the flesh on its head had rotten away, leaving only patches of empty skin to cover the huge skull. It let out a horrible sound. Something between a roar of anger and the gurgling of a man choking on his meal. Suddenly it started moving towards him. Slow at first, but gradually picking up speed. As it closed the distance between them, it lifted its rotten arms as if to welcome Iorveth in an embrace. Without warning a bolt of magic appeared from its stretched arms. The chaotic shape and brown-red color of the bolt revealed that it was destruction magic - most likely the notorious grave curse. Thankfully Iorveth had prepared for this. The scroll he'd activated before entering the tomb was responsible for a thin, barely visible egg-shaped shield that enveloped him. The shield, combined with a potion that increased his potency for absorbing magic, should be enough to negate the harmful effects of the curse. Should.
Avoiding the bolt in this narrow hallway was impossible. It impacted on the conjured shield with a loud crackle. For a moment the hallway was bathing in a bright white light as the magic released its energy. The shield held and the curse was avoided, but there was no time to celebrate as the Bonewalker came storming down the hallway. Now having reached full speed, the monster was only moments away from Iorveth. He paced backwards towards the pillared room he came from. Facing the walker in a narrow hallway like this would be tantamount to suicide. He needed room to maneuver, room to dodge. Barely a second before the monster would reach him, Iorveth entered the room. He immediately dove to his left, tumbling towards the stony floor, Negotiator clenched to his chest. As he fell, he could feel the displacement of the stale air in the tomb, caused by a considerable mass of flesh and bone rushing past where he had stood only moments before. As the creature slowed down, Iorveth scrambled to his feet. He firmly grasped Negotiator with both hands, the tip of the blade softly swaying from left to right. He adopted a lower stance, knees slightly bent, bringing the longsword down to hip-level - ready to swing at the opponent. The Bonewalker had finally come to a halt and turned to face Iorveth again. It let out another frustrated roar. A smirk appeared on Iorveth's mouth. "My turn" he spoke quietly to the abomination.
Then Negotiator spoke.