When the draugr left, I breathed a sigh of relief, and relaxed. Morokei was a strong foe, especially given how little I had actually experienced in this world. It wasn't as though I faced deadly combat in my old life, where I'd been little more than a nerdy guy with a decent head.

The draugr were... off-putting. Similar in many ways to the visceral disgust of a zombie, though at least thankfully smelling more of dust and rust than rotted meat, as you'd expect looking at them. Maybe they were preserved like Egyptian pharaohs or through magic, but certainly it was still not pleasant to look at.

The simple paper map that was marked with crypts was a little unclear, but the magical map that I had access to was much more specific. I could even see the above ground sections of the ruins I was headed to, though it was something I wasn't sure about facing. By all means, I had the mask, but did I want the task?

The mask itself seemed to grow hotter in response to these thoughts, and I physically felt myself get perturbed at the idea of... not following through? Actually, I could feel my chest ache with a somewhat foreign emotion. Rankled pride.

"Really?" I asked aloud, somewhat confused. "But I've never really felt all that prideful before..."

With a flash, I realized. I wasn't myself in the same way any more. I had a Dragon's soul, and were dragons not the most prideful beings around? Calling their name was a challenge to battle, all by itself. They fought to the death in every verbal argument they entered. They were... I was... some kind of living logic, that existed as a viewpoint, and to be defeated was to be wrong, to have the weaker argument.

"... The next closest one is Vokun." I noted.

Taking a moment to collect the Staff of Magnus and the Morokei mask, I stuffed them in a bag and headed off.

There had been something grounding in talking to the carriage driver on the way up. Maybe it had also been the sounds of the wooden wheels, or the horse's sharp breathing, but the frozen landscapes of Skyrim were awe inspiring. To be there in person, for it to feel so real... I could see why dragons were proud of their wings. Why people would live in such dangerous lands.

The sky seemed to sing to me. A melody of beauty and glory, of nature's wrath and mercy. The snow and ice was a wash of green and blue, reflecting the colored light that twisted and tore across the sky.

My stargazing was cut short when the overtly loud noise of bandits trying to approach drew my attention. They weren't particularly subtle or stealthy, which was actually to be expected from Nords. Generally the bandits here were hostile and attacked without asking for your money because they treated everyone as if they were Nords. Beat them until total submission, then state your demands. It worked better if you actually wanted their money instead of insults or pride, but of course, it also made it impossible to tell which bandits wanted to kill you or just rob you.

The closest bandit reeled back an iron warhammer, to which I treated with appropriate caution. Despite it being only Iron, I didn't particularly want to be beaten bloody by a metal brick on a stick.

Dodging backward with, to these bandits, I'm sure, preternatural grace, I whipped out the Staff of Magnus and took aim.

The result was instantaneous, a jolt of lightning that seared the air and singed the snow, with nothing pleasant to say about the, now very much dead, bandit that was launched backwards into his brethren.

"You bastard!" one of the Nordic bandits bellowed. "Filthy mage tricks! Fight like a man!"

I didn't consider replying, only sending off two more lightning bolts, killing two more bandits. There was two more, the furthest out, but they fled faster than they arrived.

Fiddling with the staff, I frowned.

"That felt... wrong. Maybe I just don't like lightning?" I mused. "Do I have an inventory?"

An inventory screen popped up, although definitely a much different interface than Skyrim usually had. It actually looked a lot more like an encyclopedia or something. Sorted by topic and alphabetically. I suppose if there's no inventory limit, organization was a huge must.

The bigger surprise was that my inventory wasn't empty. My clothes were equipped on me, and I had a few potions and some gold. One of the potions was a stack of 15, all of which said:

Skill exp potion.

Levels 1 skill of your choice by 1.

I didn't think it was particularly useful, but it was nice to have some sort of help to begin with. I imagine if I'd been more average, this would have helped me do decent damage with a sword or something before I learned anything really helpful.

As it was, I made the rest of the journey to the High Gate Ruins without much more trouble. Likely in part due to the nearly constant winter that kept this part of the world wilder and harder to live in.