It had taken the entire morning and much of the afternoon for Lokran to climb the mountain trail that led up to Bleak Fall Barrow. The journey had been uneventful with only a starving wolf trying its luck at the lone traveller and Lokran felt good to be out in the snowy landscape of his homeland once again. Lokran now found himself crouched behind a low boulder, using his natural snowy complexion to blend into the snow around him and watching the movements of the Bandits who patrolled the ruined tower that stood sentinel over the approach to the barrow. Reaching back, Lokran adjusted the hood he had borrowed from Delphine – primarily to protect his vision from harsh weather, but also to hide his Snow Elf features from the wide-eyed looks of other travellers. If the was one thing he had learned during his time in Riverwood it was that his being a Snow Elf was sure to draw the stares of the inhabitants of modern Skyrim. With his other hand Lokran reached to his side and checked the sword for around the tenth time since he had begun crouching there. It was comforting, being so close to foes, to know that he had steel – well, iron – at his side. The sword he had taken from the first Bandit that had attacked him was still serving well as his primary weapon – though it had seen some improvement at the hands of Alvor in the village smithy.
The men at the tower were talking to one another over the walls – each stationed at a particular stage in the tower. At first Lokran had thought that the snow was playing tricks with his vision when the tower had first come into view – but as he got closer he saw that the shapes moving around the structure had indeed been bandits – bandits wearing the same fur armour and sash as the one who had first attacked him. Tactically, Lokran reasoned, this tower served as an outpost, allowing the Bandits to watch the path for any overzealous guardsmen and waylaying any over indulgent traveller that came close the Barrow and disturbing whatever plans Avrel and Alvin's band had for the place. Lokran knew that using a combination of his natural camouflage and the cover of the falling snow, he could sneak past the outpost without incident. However he found the idea of this group continuing to prey upon travellers, reverent citizens and anyone else unlucky enough to visit the Barrow made him ill. No, he had to put a stop to it and ensure that none of them got away to warn those at the Barrow of his intent. He had already decided on a course of action. They were robbers and would not be expecting someone with any degree of skill to fight back – he could use this assumption to his advantage.
Slipping quietly from his hiding spot and donning the travel cloak that he had also borrowed from a chest in the Sleeping Giant – Lokran stepped onto the path and pulled his hood low, giving him the appearance of a snow-blind traveller. He also made certain to loosen the sword in its scabbard and tried to draw in as much Magicka as he felt he was able. He had not yet been able to cast a single spell since awakening, but hoped, with practice, the art would return to him. The distance between the tower and Lokran was not great, but the snow had begun to worsen as the afternoon wore on and he hoped that it would work in his favour. Indeed, as Lokran moved toward the tower he found it difficult to discern the shapes of the Bandits from those of the tower itself – if he hadn't know they were there this might have gone very differently. As he began forward, Lokran began constructing his ruse, pulling his hood tighter around his face and calling out to no one in particular.
"Hello, hello!" Lokran called out, straining his voice to ensure he was heard above the rising noise of the snowstorm. "Is anyone there? I could use some help, hello!" The calls paid off, as the shape of the Bandit manning the door became distinct in the distance as he grew even closer, Lokran could see that he had taken a step away from the wall to better inspect his potential target. Even though the wind was whipping at his face, Lokran could see the man's sneer and he knew that his ruse had worked. Lokran was thankful; he hadn't particularly rated his chances at storming the tower if the archer was on his game. When Lokran was close enough that any normal person would have been able to see he addressed the bandit. "Oh, well met stranger – could you help me? I appear to have gotten lost in the storm." The Bandit's sneer intensified and he sauntered toward Lokran with practised ease.
"Ah, I see you've gotten turned around out here, well then friend let me point you back in the right direction," The Bandit was close enough now that Lokran could make out the smell of the man's breath. He was a Nord, like the one in the cabin, his short black hair and beady hazel eyes, when combined with his sneer, made Lokran thoroughly dislike the man. "But first, let me relieve you of your heavy burdens so you can make it back unencumbered." The threat was clear, give me your stuff, but Lokran did not want the man feeling confident – he wanted him riled, prone to mistakes – so he played dumb.
"No, it's alright, I think I'll be able to make it with my meagre load, if you could just point me back to the main road I'm sure all will be well." The man's sneer fell into one of frustration mixed with anger. To his credit though, he recovered his composure quickly enough to deliver his next line.
"Ah, you see the thing is, I was not asking. Hand over your possessions or I'll gut you here and now." Once his sword was unsheathed Lokran sprang into action. He reached out and quickly grabbed the hand that was drawing the sword and used his right hand to deliver a heavy blow to the side of the bandit's face. The blow connected heavily with his temple and the bandit spun and hit the ground. With barely a moment passing, a shout went up from just inside the tower ruins as the archer caught wind of the situation changing. He rushed out from the cover of the building onto the walkway that joined the tower to the rest of the mountain, his bow drawn as he moved. Lokran heard the tell-tale tightening of the bowstring and spun, blade raised flat across his palms. The arrow leapt from the bow and hurtled toward him, but Lokran was well practised at catching arrows on blades – granted his practice had been interrupted by a few centuries, but he remembered the training like he had received it yesterday. The impact of arrow on blade was heavy, but Lokran turned the blade, and the arrow along with it, at the last second. Without wasting any time Lokran then rushed the archer, attacked just as the next arrow was being drawn from the quiver. Lokran slashed, but it was clumsy and heavily telegraphed giving his opponent the opportunity to bring up a defence, in this case the wooden long bow he had just used. Lokran's blade bit deep into the wood, not quite splitting the wood in two, but bring it close enough to not matter. The archer lost his grip on the weapon and the bow bounced off of the walkway to the rocks below. Lokran recovered from his shock faster than the archer and spun on the spot, putting as much power as he could into the swing. The blade bit just below the chin, sending the long piece of sharpened metal driving into the archer's neck. If Lokran had been at full strength then the blow would have taken the archers head clean off, as it was the blow only went around three quarters of the way through. The blood sprayed off over the side of the walkway and Lokran spun to avoid taking a bath in the man's blood.
No sooner had the archer hit the cold ground than Lokran heard the third member of the tower's retinue racing down to face him. Lokran had seen this one during his study, the third member of the band was clearly in charge as he had been the one ordering the others around and was kitted out in full iron armour. He also wielded a deadly-looking battle-axe which Lokran did not doubt could rip him in half if he made a mistake. This is where he needed his Magicka, but knew that in his weakened condition it was not something he could rely on. The tread of heavy on old wooden boards grew louder and readying his off-hand to summon whatever spell he could – Lokran charged up the final set of stairs to face his opponent. The Nord in the iron armour rushed him, the sight of the man, six feet tall, broad, long blonde hair streaming out from under the horned helm and the battle-axe at the ready did make Lokran regret not having given more thought to the stealth approach, but those thoughts were quickly abandoned when it became clear the Nord had no intention of slowing his charge. Lokran focused; drawing in all of the energy he could and focused it onto his off-hand, willing the natural frost magic of his people to aid him. Alas, it was not to be and Lokran only just managed to get up a serviceable guard before the Nord barrelled into him. Lokran fell backward, the momentum of the Nord's charge taking him back down the stairs he had just ascended – his sword flying from his grip and bouncing out into the snowstorm. Lokran landed heavily – dislodging a pile of salvaged weaponry and armour in the fall. It was by the blessings of Auri-El that he did not skewer himself on one of the swords or pikes that the bandits had horded. He had little time to consider his luck however, as the Nord leapt from the stairs aiming the axe squarely in the centre of Lokran's chest. He rolled and as he did so felt the air part as the man and axe landed behind him. Lokran crawled backward – the iron clad Nord stalking him like a weak and frightened deer. Lokran's hand scrambled for a weapon – any weapon and closed around the haft of a steel war pick that had been knocked loose in the fall. Acting solely on instinct Lokran rose, swayed left and swung upward with all of his might. By chance – or the will of the gods – the blade pierced the underside of the Nord's chin and ripped upward with the momentum of the swing. Effectively ripping the Nord's face off under the helmet. As the gargling Nord crumpled into a heap, Lokran sagged on his knees – the fall and the fight had taken its toll on him, but he knew he did not have time to rest. At any moment one of the Bandits could return to this outpost to check on their comrades and if he was to be found amongst their corpses then he would soon join them. With great effort Lokran forced himself to stand and search the outpost for anything that would help him. There was plenty of loot lying around the place, coins, cloaks and the like, but Lokran was less interested in the attire than he was information. At the highest point of the tower, what had served as the bandit's living quarters he found a note – similar to the one he had found at the cabin where he had awoken, but whole.
"Keep an eye on the road – we don't want any uninvited visitors to our little excavation. Any problems you tell me or Alvin – directly. Also keep an eye out for Brogan – he was picking up the last of the supplies from the cabin and should be along any day now.
Avrel"
Lokran scrunched the note into a ball with his fist. Avrel was the name of the bandit who had threatened Lucan and Camilla – the one Lucan thought had been in charge. Alvin was also mentioned here, it seemed the two were in charge of the operation. Brogan however, seemed to be the unlucky bandit that Lokran had knocked out cold back when he had woken. It was nice to have a name to go with the face.
During the rest of his search Lokran recovered a few items he knew would be invaluable to the rest of the climb and subsequent fight. He had found another long bow – functional and undamaged – and had taken the quiver of arrows from the archer he had near decapitated. The war pick he had used on the burly Nord had seemed like a hardy weapon and so he had retrieved that also. Amongst the various loot and miscellaneous junk that the bandits had accrued had been a fair bit of coin – which Lokran decided would be better in his pocket than that of the bandits and a few precious gems which he knew would serve to enrich him a little further, perhaps make the new life he was living a little easier. He had also found several weak healing potions – two of which he had guzzled down needing a little boost to his strength if he was going to make the barrow by nightfall.
It took less than an hour to ascend the rest of the path toward the barrow. The higher on the path Lokran went the snowfall got progressively heavier until by the time the barrow was in sight the weather was a blizzard. Lokran was, in part, glad of the cover that the bad weather provided, it was also weather that his race was uniquely suited to. However, the weather was also a hazard – making peripheral vision nearly useless. Thankfully, Lokran could see well enough to fight. From what he could tell from a small rocky outcrop overlooking the barrow – there were three bandits patrolling the outside of the barrow. They were wearing heavy cloaks and hoods to ward off the cold and were keeping to a rigorous patrol – clearly these were more dedicated to their mission than the hold-up men that were down by the road, but Lokran had a plan and after the healing effects of the potions he had ingested, Lokran was feeling more than ready for it.
Lokran drew the bow he had liberated from the tower and strung an arrow. He had watched the routes the bandits had taken for a while and knew the positioning well. The most dangerous of the patrolling bandits was, as always, the archer, but from what he had observed there was a Magicka user among them and they could be just as dangerous, but Lokran had to prioritise. There was a moment, when the archer came to edge of the barrow entrance to view the approach, granted with the weather the way it was there was not a lot to see, but it seemed the archer was determined to stick to the route. Lokran watched, his breathing steady as the archer came in sight at the edge. This was not going to be an easy shot and it had been a while since Lokran had held a bow, but he felt confident in his abilities. The world seemed to slow down to the point where even the details on the snowflakes were visible. His vision narrowed to the point that all he could see was the path the arrow would take. He compensated for the strong wind and then let out the breath he had been holding. The arrow leapt from the string and flew, blown slightly by the gusting winds, directly to the archer just as they got to the edge. The arrow connected higher than Lokran had anticipated, directly in the throat – choking off any cry the archer may have been about to give and Lokran watched as the body pitched forward tumbling into the rapidly piling snow that was building below. It seems the shot did not go as unnoticed as Lokran had planned as he heard shouts go up over the roar of the snow. With a curse Lokran threw down the bow and charged up the steps to the plateau with the entrance. The other two bandits rushed toward him – the first, which Lokran realised was a woman now that he saw her up close, charged in slightly ahead of the other – sword coming in high for a downward slash. Lokran ducked to the side and slashed out with the pick. The slash took her in the side of the knee stumbling her and as she fell and Lokran straightened he reversed the grip on the pick and slammed it into the back of the woman's skull. She stiffened and fell, but Lokran was moving in on the second bandit before she even began to fall. To his surprise though, the man raised his hands and Lokran saw the faint wisps of flames building around his fingers. Cursing under his breath, Lokran was forced to roll as the magical flames burst from the man fingers. He knew one of the bandits had Magicka, but he had no way of knowing it would be flames. The heat was almost unbearable as he rolled beneath them – he was sure he had been roasted, but then he was past them and standing in the frigid air. Lokran had to act quickly or be roasted when the spell-sword turned. Lokran kicked out behind himself as he spun around to attack – the kick took the spell-sword in the legs and he fell backward, Lokran looped his arm around the man's neck and yanked downward, the man was pulled to the ground hard and Lokran heard the distinctive crack of his neck breaking. Lokran knelt by his body panting – the skin around his right shoulder was flaring with an angry pink burn and once more Lokran cursed, but this time out loud. It was in this moment when he heard the sound of leather scuffing on stone and snow. Lokran spun fast and saw the outline of a fourth bandit running headline toward the entrance to the barrow. Lokran hefted the war pick, holding it at the bottom of the handle and threw it at the man. The pick flew end over end and impacted heavily in the fourth man's spine. He flew forward with the impact and hit the door to the barrow, sliding down it and into the snow. Lokran sighed once more – these damn bandits were really making this simple reacquisition of property into a really hands on operation. Lokran looked at the door – huge, black and imposing with intricate carvings of Nordic history on it, but it was also the doorway to Avrel, Alvin and a few of the answers he sorely needed.
Part of Lokran thought he should perhaps go and pick up the bow he had dropped at the bottom of the steps, but he knew that it would not be the most useful weapon inside an old barrow. Plus he noticed the light was fading and it would not be long before any other bandits in the area began returning – which judging by the slowly steaming corpses would not result in his presence going unnoticed. He wandered over to the fourth bandit and wrenched the pick out of his spine, cleaning the weapons blade on the man's sash. Lokran reached into his satchel and pulled out another one of the healing potions and drank the liquid down in a heartbeat. The stinging in his shoulder numbed almost instantly and he felt a little better overall. After a brief moment to look around, Lokran tested the door and felt it give relatively easily – with a small prayer for Auri-El's mercy Lokran stepped into the barrow.