The trail was crisp and dusted; the side effects of being in a wintering hillside. Sven walked beside Cura, a Steel sword in his right hand and an Iron Shield in his left.
Through their meandering, he bragged about his accomplishments in the Bard's College in Solitude. "Have you ever been to Solitude?" he asked the Breton, daring her answer.
"No," Cura responded, "I've heard of it before but I haven't gone. Is it truly the brightest place in Skyrim?"
"The brightest and then some." Sven bragged on the Gold's behalf. "There's also the docks down the hill from the city, and the East Empire Company Warehouse rests there. I miss the imports of Aged Breton Cheese. I'm sure you understand that, right?"
"I'm not sure that I do." Cura narrowed her eyes. "I've never tried it."
"A Breton who hasn't tried Aged Breton Cheese?" Sven parroted. "That's like a Nord who never tried Mead."
Cura's face fell. "You realize that I'm not from High Rock, right?"
"Oh, you're not?" Sven was surprised. "With a name like 'Curie?'"
"'Cura.'"
The Breton was barely getting used to this by this point.
"Sorry." Sven apologized, as Cura walked ahead of him. The snow was beginning to pick up the further the pair ascended the mountain. Eventually, they came across a split on the large precipice, where there was the path leading up to the Barrow, but just beside it was a Bandit Watchtower.
Cura immediately took out her mace, preparing for the worst. Sven followed suit, standing behind her and withdrawing his Bow. "I've got your back." He said as he kept a hand on the quiver on his lower back.
"Hopefully it won't come to that." Cura approached the fork in the road cautiously.
"Well, what do we have here?" One of the Bandits, an Orc, immediately unsheathed his steel sword and rushed to confront Cura. "You lost?"
Cura kept her eyes on his sword, tracking its movement. "We're busy, so could you please move aside?" she demanded sternly. "Vigilant business."
The Orc laughed, but Cura remained unfazed. When he was finished cackling, he glared at her. "Oh, yes. Please, go on ahead." he goaded with a brushing along gesture. "Go and save us all from the horrifying snow."
Cura was unamused. "Well, I suppose you'll just have to wait until the Vampire of Bleak Falls Barrow becomes thirsty again." She shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm sure he's never tasted Orc before. Might be a new experience for him. You know how uneventful immortality can be."
The Orc hid it visually, but the coldness in his blood was evident. "You think you're so damned funny, don't you?" he said dryly.
"Oh, no." Cura assured. "I would never joke about such a thing."
The Orc was dead silent, when a few of his comrades came to join him. A male and female Nord pair, and an Imperial man. All armed to the teeth. "Is this one giving you trouble?" the male Nord asked, champing at the bit for a chance at bloodshed.
"A Breton, huh?" the female Nord sneered in disgust. "Go back to High Rock! You're not welcome here!" She waved her war axe towards Cura, prompting Sven to release an arrow, meeting its mark straight into her forehead.
That did it.
"You bastards!" the Imperial shouted, seizing the moment and rushing Cura with his greatsword. The Breton was quick on her feet, and parried the blow with her Shield. The impact was a little rough on her wrist is but she rebounded with her Steel mace, catching him in the side of his wife open shoulder. A loud 'crunch' filled the air as his bones cracked under the force of the cudgel.
Cura pulled back to make room for Sven, as he rushed in, sword swinging. His sword clashed with the Orc, guarding Cura's side from a stern blade. The Nord guided the Orc over to his left, and as his blade sung in the air, the Orc pushed him backwards with his foot, creating an opportunity to strike.
Cura was quick to the draw, clubbing the Orc's knee, causing him to trip. Sven took the opportunity presented before him, and drove the sword straight through the Orc's open mouth, through the top of his skull. Blood decorated the white snow, and the Nord slid the dead Orsimer off of his skewer with his foot.
Cura looked down at the mess with disgust. She did it again.
The male Nord stuck Cura in the side with his Iron Sword, and pulled back. She was stunned momentarily by the shock of the sudden attack, and the searing pain it left behind. Before he could strike twice, she Healed herself and pivoted sideways, dodging his next attack. When he missed his mark, she casted a flame spell, burning the assailant in his tracks.
After a very long thirty seconds, the pursuer fell to the ground when his shrill screams grew silent.
"That's that, then." Sven wiped the blood off his sword before noticing that the Imperial was still alive, writhing in pain in the bloodied snow. He rolled his eyes and walked over to finish the man, but the man pleaded. "No! Stop! I'm sorry!" the Imperial blubbered. "I'll leave! I promise! Don't kill me, I beg you!"
Sven gave the pathetic fool a glare, then turned to Cura. "Your call, Kyrie."
She squinted for a second, then looked at the wounded man. "Let him go."
Sven looked at her strangely. "He attacked us."
"Yes, because you shot that Nord girl with an arrow!" She snapped at him. Sven looked insulted, and was taken aback by her fast reaction against him. "So I was supposed to let her cleave you to pieces? A little counterintuitive, if you ask me." he said nonchalantly. "But fine, next time you're that close to a weapon, I'll just chug some mead, or something."
Cura rolled her eyes, then turned back to the Imperial Bandit. "I'll heal you, but if you make any strange movements, I'll allow him to finish what he started." She gestured towards Sven, who had a hand on his sword's hilt.
The Bandit nodded through the splitting agony in his right shoulder. "O-okay, fine."
Cura healed his wounds. "Now, hit the road." She signaled for him to run, and he quickly scrambled to his feet, and dashed past Sven, down the trodden path.
Cura continued walking past the fresh corpses, and up the higher trail, prompting Sven to hurry ahead slightly. "Why did you spare that milk drinker?" He asked, prompting the Vigilant to shrug. "He's not a Daedra Worshipper, so I gave him mercy."
"Right. Stendarr." The Nord said, pointing towards her Amulet in comprehension.
Cura nodded, then looked at the bodies being consumed by the falling snow, bit by bit, on her way up. "Stendarr... I hope he understands. I tried to take the peaceful route. Starting that fight was not my intention..."
"Hey, look at it this way," Sven chuckled. "you showed mercy on the next suckers who would travel up here-and those bastards definitely had some justice headed their way! Filthy thieves and murderers, the lot of them."
Cura considered his words as they continued along their way through gray skies and falling sleet, snow, and hail to the staircase leading to the great tomb. It was degenerated from thousands of years of unuse, and the stone holding it together was impressively stout. The architecture was a marvel of a bygone age. The sharp archways adorning the courtyard entrance stretched higher and higher into the sky. Statuettes of dragons loomed and hung over every facet and buttress, and all was coated in cold white. Cura looked at the oppressive fortress, and turned to Sven. "Still coming with me?"
The Nord was visibly alarmed, but laughed it off. "Of course! What kind of Nord would back down from the sight of bricks?"
"Have you ever seen a Draugr before?" Cura asked as they slowly came upon the entrance door.
"N-no," Sven admitted, his voice breaking lightly. "but maybe it'll make for a thrilling tale when we return to Riverwood."
Cura pushed open the door lightly, and then the wind took care of the rest. A vacuum current yanked the door open with a metallic shriek. Snow flooded inside, and Cura was almost pulled in by the robes. Sven grabbed the lightweight Breton, holding her steady.
The two exchanged glances, and Sven quickly released his grip. "Er," he stammered. "m-maybe I'll go to Whiterun... get you a Horse for when you come back out?"
Cura have him a dirty look. "What happened to a Nord not being scared away by a few bricks?" Her mockery was enough to spur him back on track.
"Fine, then." Sven walked ahead, through the dark archway into the unknown. Cura held her mace tightly, and put her Shield ahead, readying for a potential trap.
She was a Novice, to be sure. New to Skyrim, even if born in it. Though she had gone spelunking before.
The cavernous ruins within sung a greeting on the form of falling streams of dust and light rumbles under the foundation. Light shone in through the ceiling, highlighting the gently falling snowflakes, which would melt when touching the ground due to the heat released by draconic black torches.
The stonework within the ruins was incredible; the interior certainly matched the exterior architecturally.
"Wow..." Sven marvelled. "this place is incredible!"
Cura was enthralled. "The sheer scale of this place... I feel almost honoured to be here." She continued to look around, scanning the area. "But we have to be cautious."
"You've probably explored hundreds of these tombs, right?" Sven asked as they passed a large pillar that was erected beside a black coffin.
"Never." Cura replied nonchalantly, which only made Sven feel worse.
"Oh. That's great." He muttered sarcastically with an eyeroll.
"I've explored caverns, fought Trolls, Ice Wraiths, and even Wolves, Bears, and Saber Cats, if that makes you feel any better."
"Look, I don't need to 'feel better', okay?" Sven jumped back. "I'm fine, really!" His lie was very obvious.
They heard some faint voices off in the distance. One male, one female.
"That Claw should open the door."
"Sounds like hogwash to me."
"Arvel seems to think so."
As soon as Cura and Sven came close, the Bandits immediately jumped onto the attack. The male shouted. "You picked a bad time to get lost, friend!"
Cura was ready this time, as was Sven.
"Don't get in the way!" Sven joked as he knocked an arrow. Cura quickly rushed the male bandit with her mace flying, and held her Shield ahead of her. He swung his Iron War axe, which knocked her off-kilter briefly. Sven plugged him with an arrow, and quickly replaced his bow with his sword and engaged the female one-on-one, clashing blades.
Cura swung her mace upwards, clashing the chin of the bandit, causing him to drop to the floor upon a loud 'snap!'
Sven drove his sword through the other bandit's stomach, killing her. "Wonderful people." he spat.
Cura grit her teeth. Another two, dead. How many people had she killed so far since Helgen? Twelve? Thirteen? Never in her life had she had to take a Human life, but now she was doing it in spades.
This was the world; now she was a part of it.
Her soul wept, but her eyes continued forward as her feet tracked blood along the stone floor.
Horrors echoed these halls: clearly these ruins were no stranger to violence. What could have happened here in the past to result in the countless unburied skeletons strewn about the floors.
Sven tripped on a femur bone and fumbled into Cura, nearly knocking the girl over. "Watch yourself!" she exclaimed in surprise.
Eventually, they came upon another Bandit; he was all alone in a small room with a lever, and a gate. There were stone tablets on the wall depicting a snake, and a whale, with a missing slot between them, all underneath stone carvings of Nord faces.
The bandit was about to pull the lever when Cura interrupted him. "Are you sure you want to do that?" she asked.
"Arvel's down there!" he exclaimed. "The gate locked when I fled! I've got to go back there!"
"You fled?" Sven emphasized. "From what?"
"None of your damned business, that's what!" the bandit brandished his sword and pointed it at Sven.
"There are two of us, and only you." Cura pointed out. "It would be foolish to engage us." she pointed her mace forward.
The Bandit stood there, silent for a moment, then sheathed his sword. "You have a point, but even the two of you couldn't fight that thing!"
"What thing?" Sven demanded.
"A Frostbite Spider! As big as a house!" the Bandit studdered.
"Then come along with us, and we'll fight it three-on-one." Cura said plainly. "And once we save Arvel, you can give us that Claw and we'll get on with our lives."
"The Claw..." the Bandit muttered under his breath, looking down before turning up to Cura. "Fine. Do you have any ideas on how to solve this puzzle?" he looked frustrated.
"Well," Cura began. "I'd say it's pretty obvious." she pointed to the dislodged serpent stone on the ground near the lever, which would have belonged on the wall beside the others. "Snake, snake, whale." She pointed at the wall symbols, plus the fallen, then looked at the turning stones on the wall to her left. One had a Whale, next an Eagle, and the last also a whale.
Cura rolled her eyes at the sheer simplicity of it all, and walked over to the stones, and shifted them to match the ones on the wall, and turned to Sven. "Pull the lever, and step back."
"Step back?" Sven questioned, before realizing that there was always the potential to set off a trap of some kind. instead, the metal bars threw themselves upwards, snaking out of their way. The Bandit walked on ahead of the pair, and Cura and Sven nodded at one another before pursuing.
After some distance, they came upon what looked like a doorway encased in webs, and the Bandit quickly began to hack at the monstrous webbing. A voice called out from some distance away. "Is... is someone coming? Is that you Harknir? Bjorn? Soling?"
"Harknir!" the Bandit called back to him. "Damn these webs!" He continued to thrash them with his axe, until they finally began to give out.
"I know I ran ahead with the claw, but I need help!" the voice, presumably Arvel's, called back out, his voice lilting on every second word.
The Bandit began to hack harder and faster, but the webs were wearing him down. Cura quickly ran over and pushed Harknir to the side lightly, and, using her Flames, began to burn at the incorrigible webs. Sure enough, the white substance ignited, then in a matter of seconds fell to cinders. "Webs are weak to fire." the Breton told him, and he nodded, looking a tad annoyed moving forward.
"Showing off a little, are we?" Sven pointed out.
"We haven't time to waste!" Cura exclaimed. "I have to get that Claw and return to Riverwood, then head to Whiterun!"
When they followed Harknir to the next room, they immediately saw what looked like a Dark Elf in a hide helmet wrapped up in a web, covering the next doorframe. Around him were more webs, all with exsanguinated corpses of Humans wrapped up and some strewn about like dead flies.
"Arvel!" Harknir exclaimed, rushing over.
"No, you fool! Don't get it's attent-" Arvel was interrupted by the Giant Frostbite Spider that was slumbering on the ceiling as it stirred awake, and quickly descended on a string.
Cura's jaw dropped at the sheer size of this thing. Harknir was not exaggerating by much. The size of this arachnid was incredibly daunting; one would have to worry how it got in the tiny room to begin with. "Ysmir's beard!" Sven exclaimed in horror as he backed up and drew his bow.
"No. Not again. Help!" Arvel wailed. "Don't let it get me! Please!" He was begging with all his soul as he struggled in the bonds that held him.
Harknir rushed in, axe in hand, and began to hack at the fiend. It lifted its two front tendons and began to slash at him, cutting the brute mid-attack.
Cura quickly made her move, calling upon her flames, and scorching the giant arachnid. Surprisingly, it seemed to be resilient to her fire. Curious, for a Frostbite Spider, but utterly terrifying. The beast scurried over to her as Harknir sliced off one of its back legs halfway, causing green blood to splatter. Sven fired an arrow into the Wounded Spider's center eye, causing it to reel back and squeal horrifically. Cura took a swing with her mace, crushing the exoskeletal face before her. The beast then lunged and bit the Vigilant in the chest.
"Gyuuuh!" Cura screamed as she staggered backwards. A dizziness slowly began to overtake her and she began to feel wearier and wearier; effects of the Frostbite Venom injected into her bloodstream. Desperately, she began to Heal herself, hoping to devoid herself of the poisoning.
"Ah, kill it. Kill it!" Arvel continued to panic and shout.
Sven continued firing his Iron Arrows at the giant Spider, and Harknir slashed at the dent in its natural aromour left by Cura.
The Spider was in a violent frenzy, having to deal with three targets at once, and began to lash out feverishly. It was becoming confused and increasingly aggitated, even ramming itself into the wall in an attempt to kill Cura, who just finished recovering. She then took the opportunity to jump on the spider's thorax when it was stunned against the wall, and turned her mace downwards, and began to bash the beast's brains in, one crunch at a time, staining her forest green robes with its deeper green contents.
She then released her grip and jumped off the feebly stirring arachnid, when Sven shot another arrow into it for good measure.
"Not bad," Harknir admitted. "for a Vigilant and a Bard."
Cura and Sven looked at one another, and nodded. Harknir then headed over to Arvel. "Arvel, we're going to get you down now." He winked at the Dark Elf, and the cowardly group leader simply nodded. "Don't leave me, for Arkay's sake!" he said to Cura and Sven as Harknir moved out of the way.
Cura stepped forward. "You. Are you the one who took the Golden Claw from Lucan's shop?"
"Y-yes, I am." Arvel admitted. "But I did it with good reason, I promise!Help me down, and I'll show you. You won't believe the power the Nords have hidden there."
"Power?" Cura raised her eyebrow. "This had better not have something to do with Daedra..." she muttered.
"No-it's much different than the Daedra!" Arvel said defensively. "Far more Ancient than modern Daedra worship, I assure you."
"And what if it's loosed upon the world? Chances are, it was sealed away for a reason." Cura argued.
The thief was becoming irritated. "It's a magnificent treasure! This Claw opens the door to it." He stated. "Don't you find that interesting? Tell you what; you cut me down, and I'll split the treasure with you and your friend there. 20% of profits each?"
Cura shook her head.
"Cut me down. or you'll never get the claw!" Arvel barked.
"He's got a point, there." Sven stated, pointing towards the obvious fact that Arvel was completely wrapped up, and the Claw, being in his bag, was wrapped up, as well.
"All right." Cura said. "I'm cutting you down, but I'm taking the Claw back to Riverwood."
Arvel nodded, and Harknir, from behind the group, nodded, as well, resuming eye contact with Arvel.
Cura began to summon more flames, and the webs were slowly beginning to dissolve. "I-it's working!" He exclaimed, as the black char began to dissolve the rest of the strings that bound him.
He fell to his knees, and Cura stopped her flames. "Are you all right?" She expressed some concern, and offered him her hand.
"Yes..." the shifty elf said with a small chuckle.
Immediately, Sven was attacked from behind by Harknir, who slashed him at the back with his war axe. "Kya!" The Nord shouted, and whirled around. Cura turned to look, and Arvel plunged his dagger into her stomach, causing her to shriek and rebound backwards.
"You fool, why would I share the treasure with anyone?" Arvel laughed as he began to run down the halls.
Sven was fighting for his life, when Harknir knocked him to the floor. "You stupid Milk Drinker!" Harknir said, with a violent laugh. "Once the two of you are dead, I'm gonna loot you for all you have!"
When he raised his axe high over his head, Cura had an immediate flashback to the executioner's blade back in Helgen.
Sven held up his arm defensively while in a vulnerable position, and Cura quickly tossed her mace at Harknir from the distance away, clubbing him off the head, shattering his left temple, and killing him.
She rushed over to help Sven, who was bleeding profusely from his back, and from his left shoulder. She used her Healing Hands on the Nord to get him back in fighting shape.
"Y-you saved me, Cura." Sven said as he watched her run along to pick up her mace, which lay angled in the corner of the room, amidst the rubble.
"It's no problem." Cura stated, as she examined the blood on two of the ridges of the mace head.
"GYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
The two were startled by the loudest shriek they had ever heard, and immediately got up in arms. Slowly, the pair cautiously trudged down the hall that Arvel ran down, and immediately found him lying on the dark ground, bloodied and stiff. Cura went down on one knee, and pressed two of her fingers under his ear, beside his jawline. "He's dead." She confirmed.
"I don't like this." Sven said. "First Bandits, then a Giant Spider, and now this...? I'm getting out of here!"
Cura turned to him. "I don't blame you." She stated. "You can go if you like, but I feel... compelled to move forward. I want to know what he was talking about."
When she reached in Arvel's bag to obtain the Claw, she not only found it, a tri-pointed lizardlike foot with three etched symbols portrayed on its bottom, but she had also discovered a Journal.
Sven leaned forward to look.
Cura picked Arvel's Journel up off his lightly-twitching corpse, and spun it around to the correct position, and began to read it:
''My fingers are trembling. The Golden Clawis 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 solution is in the palm of your hands?" Cura asked as she turned to inspect the Claw closer. Upon it, she noticed the three etched symbols: Bear, Moth, Owl.
What could it mean?
She looked at Sven, expectantly. "What's your decision? I won't fault you if you return to Town."
"Nah, I think I want to see where this mystery leads." Sven stated. "It will make for one hell of a poem."
Typical Bard.
"All right." Cura said with a nod. "Stay vigilant. This place is dark."
"Stay Vigilant? Isn't that your job?" Sven asked with a chuckle.
"Very funny." Cura smirked. She walked ahead into the shadows, past the dimly lit doorway, into an open area.
The light, as dim as it was, showed by the stalagmites adorned with torches the countless cubbies with mummified corpses resting within.
Draugr.
Cura held a finger to her mouth, signaling for silence as they ducked down, sneaking through.
Sven trusted Cura's judgment on this one, as a Vigilant of Stendarr. She would be more apt at dealing with the undead.
With a little creak, Sven accidentally stepped on a pressure plate, causing a spiked wall on hinges to swing forward and hit him. "Kyah!" he emoted.
Draugr began to awaken, and Cura was quick. She clubbed one in the head, crushing his skull before he could attack Sven.
The Bard hurried onto his feet, and began to slash a couple of the Draugr who headed straight for him, war axes waving.
"Bolog aaz, mal lir!" one Draugr shouted at Cura, slashing her Shield. It's voice was ghastly and cold. Undeath personified. The Breton parried the attack, and whirled her arm around the round hunk of metal, splintering the fiend's jaw.
"Aar vin ok!" another hissed as she shot an arrow at Sven, missing by mere inches.
Cura formed another blaze, and began to actively cremate what was left of the sentient zombies.
It was over, and Cura began to collect Bone Meal from the corpses, to be used for potions down the road.
Sven walked forward a little, and saw a small corridor filled with swinging pendulum blades. "Well." he turned back to Cura. "Don't like the look of that."
When Cura finished her task, she walked over to the blades. "Oh..." She began to look for a safe route, or perhaps a way to duck under them, but they hung low enough that it just wasn't possible.
"Okay..." She took a breather. "I'll run through when the time presents itself, then I'll find the deactivation switch."
"Be careful!" Sven snapped. "I don't want to see you in pieces!"
Cura nodded. She held up her bracers. Hopefully the armour would offer at least some protection against the edges.
A few seconds passed as Cura studied the motion rail of the blades, and calculated the timing in her head. As soon as the blades were halfway to the wall, she bolted through, only having her right shoulder blade clipped.
She found a pull chain, and yanked it, stopping the contraption. Sven came through quickly, only to see more Draugr coming towards them. Quickly, he drew his bow and shot down a ceiling lamp, causing it to break on the ground, spilling fire onto the oil on the ground, igniting a few of the Draugr archers.
Cura rushed forward, and broke another's head open before heading up the small spiral stairs. Sven followed her.
Soon enough, they came upon more caverns, and Cura ran westward through a nook, which led to a smaller area with a door. This door, however, was different. It was carved stone with three rings, depicting a moth, a bear and an owl. In the center was what looked like a four-pronged keyhole.
"Wow, this is incredible..." Sven mused, looking at the architecture around him as he kept watch behind the two of them.
Cura looked back at the Claw in her hand. "So, a treasure, is there? Maybe it could help the Hall of the Vigilant." she turned her face to Sven. "Whatever we find, I think you deserve at least half of it."
Sven nodded assuredly. "I think so, too."
Cura nodded, and touched one of the rings, turning it from the Bear to an Owl. Then she nodded, turning each one to match the markings on the Claw before inserting it and instinctively stepping back.
With a few whirrs and a clunk, the tumblers settled, and the slots began to rotate. The Claw was ejected from the socket, and Cura rushed to catch it. It was, after all, what she had come for in the first place.
The stone door began to slide downwards, revealing some stairs.
"This is it," Cura mused expectantly. "the treasure Arvel spoke of should be behind here. I'm a little anxious. How are you feeling, Sven?"
"You don't need to worry about me, Cura." he stated. "Just keep on moving."
Cura nodded, and walked on ahead, up the stairs. Immediately, she was greeted by a swarm of squealing Bats that brushed over her. The small cavern was illuminated by a ceiling opening some distance away near the small cascades. A slope bridged the two separate floors, which were divided by a tiny brook connected to one of the cascades, sweeping the rocks below.
Staring at her was a large wall with a mysterious Dragon carving on its top-center. There were what appeared to be words. She walked past a dark slab coffin, not noticing it in relation to the spectacle before her.
"Wow, what language is that?" Sven asked, musing on it.
Cura stared long and hard at the words on the wall, and something deep within her registered the scratched-on characters in her mind. She cleared her throat, and observed, and placed a hand on the slab, running it along.
"Het Nok Faal Vahlok
DeinmaarDo Dovahgolz
Ahrk Aan Fus Do Unslaad
Rahgol Ahrk Vulom"
Sven stared at Cura as she began to read the text. One word, though, stood out to her in particular. "Fus".
"Fus."
Cura narrowed her eyes. "Fus." She repeated. She would take note of this word. "Force".
"What does it mean?" Sven demanded, throwing his arms out in suspense.
"Here lies the guardian, Keeper of the Dragonstone; and a force of unending rage and darkness." Cura stroked her chin. "Dragonstone?"
Suddenly, a rumble came from behind them, and the unsuspecting stone coffin's lid slid open, and a Draugr with a highborn set of armour began to climb out.
"Shor's Bones!" Sven exclaimed, immediately heading on the offensive. Cura was quick to the draw, facing down the Draugr Overlord, when the walking demon opened his mouth.
" FUS RO DAH!"
A thundering shockwave roared through the midden air, shoving Cura against the cold stone violently. When she connected, she let out aloud gasp, then fell to the ground.
Visions of the black Dragon at Helgen returned to her as her ears rung.
The Overlord walked over towards her, hobbling, with a great axe in his hands.
"Cura, get up!" Sven shouted, as he shot a couple of arrows into the Draugr's back. The Overlord turned around, and immediately ran towards the Bard, who was quick on his feet, sprinting towards higher ground, and knocking another arrow. "For the love of Mara, get up!"
Cura looked to the ground, and noticed blood running down her neck, from her ears. She touched her ears, and saw blood coating her gauntlet. Immediately, she rushed towards the Draugr, whose back was turned to her, and smashed him with her mace, shattering the back of his neck. Sven shot a few more arrows into his chest, leg, and abdomen as the fiend fell to his knees, and collapsed to the floor. The eerie blue lights in his eye sockets slowly faded away.
Cura liberally healed herself, and healed Sven as he picked up the great axe. "I'm taking this as a trophy." the Bard said smugly.
Cura noticed a strange stone slab tied to the Draugr's back, and took it. It had odd markings on it depicting various map locations-seemingly a map of Skyrim itself, at that. What could it mean? Cura turned it around and read the inscription on the back.
"HET NOK UN
MAHLAAN DROGGE
EREI SULEYK SE
ALDUIN VOKRII."
She read it aloud, bewildering Sven once more. "How...?" He asked. "How can you read it? What language even is it?"
"I believe it may be Draconic." Cura said. "I don't know how, but it makes sense to me. I just need a little time to process it..." She paused for a moment, and reexamined the text, then worked out a translation.
'Here lie our fallen Lords, until the power of Alduin revives them."
"The Dragon Priests..." Sven muttered.
Cura raised an eyebrow. "Er, what?"
"Long ago in Ancient Times, there were people who worshipped Dragons. Eventually, at some point, one of these Dragon Priests turned against the Dragons, and the rest of Skyrim followed suit, revolting against the established order and killing the Dragons and Dragon Priests." he gave her a brief primer. 'I remember reading up on some tales back at the Bard's College in Solitude. Mix that with some drunken ramblings from my Father and Uncles, and that's where my knowlege of societal lore comes from."
"Er, I think you should stick to Poetry." Cura said with a nod.
"Probably," Sven began. "so, shall we leave this accursed dust pit?"
Cura nodded. "I think that would be for the best." She began to wonder if the Draugr Overlord's masters who put him in charge of guarding the Dragonstone were the Dragon Priests Sven had spoken of. There was still much for her to learn about this Province. Maybe, once she returned to the Vigil, she could ask Keeper Carcette and Brother Adalvald avout the Dragon Priests. Perhaps they would know more on the subject.
She walked over to the gold-embellished treasure chest, and opened it, expecting to find a good sum of gold. She only found 230 gold.
Every bit helps. She pocketed it, and continued to look at the other things within. A Steel Greatsword with a frost enchantmnt on it of some kind, and a Banded Iron Shield. More effective than her current Iron Shield. The Breton decided she would sell her Iron Shield to Lucan. 415 gold would not do much to help the Hall of the Vigilant. She intended to return with at least 1000 gold.
Perhaps Carcette would understand. After all, she was wrongfully incarcerated and nearly executed. The Keeper was harsh, but fair. Certainly, the gold would placate her.
Cura held the Banded Iron Shield. "I'm going to use this for now." She stated. "I'm going to sell this Greatsword and my old Shield."
"Good idea." Sven said, as he headed up the stairs. Cura quickly ran up behind him, and the two found a hidden exit door. With one pull of the chain, the two found themselves in another little chamber with a chest, and a skull on a mantle surrounded by flowers and a wreath of Snowberries. Cura opted not to touch the little makeshift shrine, but instead took an extra 22 gold from the chest, bumping her total up to 437 gold.
She wondered how much Lucan was going to give her from his last shipment.
The pair walked through the open crevice in the wall, and found themselves out in the sunlight, overlooking the valley below.
The sun was a beautiful sight, and its warm embrace unfleeting. Cura took it all in, joyously. The pine green grass could be seen matting the roads below the white rocks of the mountain. It was over, at last. What felt like days on wandering the dark, decrepit crypt, was over. Cura and Sven both headed down the trail, back to Riverwood, where Sven victoriously sang "The Dragonborn Comes" on the road.
"Our hero, our hero, claims a warrior's heart.
I tell you, I tell you, the Dragonborn comes.
With a Voice wielding power of the ancient Nord art.
Believe, believe, the Dragonborn comes.
It's an end to the evil, of all Skyrim's foes.
Beware, beware, the Dragonborn comes.
For the darkness has passed, and the legend yet grows.
You'll know, You'll know the Dragonborn's come."
"That's an interesting song." Cura stated. "I suppose it has to do with the Dragon Priests, right? Is that why you chose it?"
"You don't know what the Dragonborn is?" Sven was horrifically shocked by this reaction. "You really must have lived under a rock, then!"
Cura shrugged, and Sven scoffed. "Yeah, I picked it because of our talk of Dragons and History, but..." He began. "The Dragonborn is a hero blessed with the blood and soul of a Dragon, and can Shout, as they do."
"Like the Draugr Overlord?" Cura asked. "He shouted at me the same way that Dragon in Helgen did... and it was very destructive."
"Yes." Sven nodded. "If Dragons are coming back, then I guess it's only a matter of time until the Dragonborn comes."
"A person with the blood and soul of a Dragon?" Cura scoffed. "It sounds nonsensical to me. Why would they not just simply be a Dragon, then? Why would they have a weak mortal frame?"
"Because it's a gift from the Gods!" Sven repeated, making Cura feel stupid.
"Yes, right..." She realized that it would perhaps be for the best if she did not question it.
A person with the blood and soul of a Dragon... there was no way anything good could come from that. From what she had experienced, if that black Dragon were any indication, it would perhaps be more likely that Dragons were Daedric, rather than Divine. Although it was true that Akatosh took the shape of a Dragon, so too did Peryite, the Daedric Prince of Plagues. Clearly, these Dragons were like a plague. Like any plague, they would need to be destroyed, as well as any person who shared kinship with them.
The people had called the Septims Dragonborn-that was the only time she had heard the term, though she thought it meant that they were born of the Empire, symbolized by a Dragon. Symbolized by Akatosh, by St. Alessia's deal.
Then that would make Dragonborns divine, though, wouldn't it?
It was all so confusing to Cura.
If Tiber Septim, the Hero-God of Mankind was a Dragonborn, in the sense that Sven meant it, that would mean he had the Soul of a Dragon. So, would Talos just be another aspect of Akatosh?
This journey has left Cura with more questions than she ever thought imaginable.
Eventually, the pair reached Riverwood, crossing over the bridge, and walked through the town. Nothing was out of place. The town was just as Cura and Sven had left it, though the air seemed to feel different to the Breton. She shrugged it off as residual stress from the Barrow, and headed into the Riverwood Trader. Inside, Lucan and Camilla were discussing the Imperial and Stormcloak situation,and were caught by surprise.
"Ah! You're alive!" Lucan exclaimed in sheer surprise. "You... you have the Claw?" His eyes were hopeful.
"Sven, look at you!" Camilla exclaimed in horror at his bloodstained tunic. "What happened to you?" She rushed over and amorously placed her hands on his shoulders.
Sven looked to Cura, and she smiled, and began. "Sven helped me get the Claw back."
"You... you idiot." Camilla scolded him. "How could you throw yourself into danger like that?"
"For your love, Camilla, I'd do it again." Sven laid it out, stunning the enraged Imperial woman. Her visage softened, and she slowly embraced him. "Oh, Sven..."
Cura took the Golden Claw out of her satchel and handed it to Lucan. "Here you are, as I promised!" She gave a gentle nod.
Lucan was overjoyed, and quickly took the Claw into his hands. "Ha, ha! There it is! Strange... it looks smaller than the last time I saw it." He quickly turned and placed it on the corner of the desk. "Right back where it belongs! I'll never forget this!"
He quickly stepped forward, and held Cura in a quick, but firm hug. "You've done a great thing for me, and my Sister!"
Cura nodded. "It's no problem." She smiled. "I'm always happy to help."
Lucan nodded. "And here's the coin I promised you." He reached into his bag and took out a coin purse. "400 gold, down to the last septim." he stated.
837 gold, still not enough to justify the Keeper's decision to allow her to travel this far. Cura would not complain, however. She simply took the bag, and smiled. "Thank you."
Lucan nodded and Camilla turned to Cura, from Sven. "It means so much for us to have the Claw back where it belongs. Thank you!"
Cura nodded again. "Well, before I leave, I'd like to sell this Greatsword, and this Iron Shield."
"An Ancient Nordic Greatsword!" Lucan admired. "Incredible!"
"I have an Ancient Nordic Battleaxe." Sven bragged, showing off his loot. Camilla was enthralled by it, and examined Sven's cool new weapon.
"And it has a Frost enchantment on it," Cura stated. "should be worth something."
"Indeed." Lucan said with a nod. "I'll give you... 146 gold for it, and for the worn Iron Shield, 23 gold is more than fair. and that's because I like you."
"Deal." Cura smiled and shook his hand.
Now, she had 1006 gold. Perfect! Once she was finished with Whiterun, she would find a carriage, and be back in Dawnstar in just a few days. Or, considering Carriage Costs, she hoped the Jarl would pay her a Courier's Fee, so she could pay without subtracting from her goalpost.
"By the way..." Lucan began. "I don't think I caught your name, Breton."
"Oh! It's Cura. Cura of the Pale." She held her hands together in a friendly manner.
"Good, I like to remember who my friends are." Lucan said, shining the brand new Greatsword. "If you ever find yourself back in Riverwood, don't be a stranger."
Cura grinned. "Of course, Lucan."
She turned to Sven. "You're free to go now, Sven. Have fun with Camilla." She chuckled.
"Wait, you're going?" Sven asked Cura. "Already? You just got back."
"Whiterun needs to know about Rierwood's situation." She explained. "The Jarl will send some aid here for the event of a Dragon attack."
"So it is true..." Lucan was mortified. "Dragons really have returned to Skyrim."
"Yes," Cura stated. "and if we can't learn to work together, this Province is sunk."
Camilla held Sven's arm as she learned of the dire situation they were all placed in. He placed a hand on her own, comfortingly.
"The Dragonborn will come," he stated. "and destroy the Dragons, like the Legend says."
"How can you be sure?" Lucan asked.
"Because until I met Cura, I believed that Dragons themselves were only a Legend." he nudged his head in her direction. "She survived one, in Helgen. I believe her now."
"So your Mother wasn't just rambling nonsense." Camilla looked to him.
"No." Sven shook his head.
Cura headed to the door. "Be safe, everyone, and if possible, don't stray too far from Town."
Lucan, Camilla, and Sven all bid Cura a farewell, and she left the Trader. She pulled down her hood, releasing her beautiful blonde hair to the winds. The breeze brushed through her hair, and she took a deep breath of air. The open space felt great.
She looked to Alvor, who was hammering away at a new sword, and she waved to him. The blacksmith waved back to her, as she headed back on the trail, over the bridge, following the river down, to Whiterun.
