5

"Carlotta put you up to this, didn't she? I'm sorry, but that fiery widow is mine. She. Just. Doesn't. Know. It. Yet."

Ugh, gross. I was in the mood to punch something but now I don't want to touch this slimy bard.

"Leave her alone or this gets worse." I threaten hoping he'll make this easy.

"Now now there's no need to be jealous, young lady. There's plenty of Mikael to go around. he says without an ounce of shame. "You've got a real fire in you and I like that in a woman. Why don't we go somewhere quiet and we ca-guh!"

I punch him. I punch him right in the schnoz. He recoils briefly but straightens up quickly, my skinny noodles not as effective as I'd hoped.

"Fine. As you wish I'll leave you alone." he says, rubbing his nose. "But you can't make me give up on Carlotta. I'll not be denied my prize!"

I kick him. I kick him in the dick. Seriously fuck this guy. He predictably goes down with a groan. There's a little blood running down his nose and while he's on the floor I whisper in his ear.

"I'm with the Companions you idiot. You're so disgusting the whole town knows what you're up to pig. And now I have to clean up your shit." I growl. "You've got a week to apologize or get out of town. I don't care which."

And with that I leave the inn. The job was just to ruff up some creep picking on a poor widow. Assuming I survive what's to come I'll follow up with the widow when I get back to make sure the job is done. I purposely made this job the last thing I had to do before I could leave town today. Yesterday I spent most of my time with the Companions trying to pick up on combat tips for dummies.

Farkas showed me how to wear heavy armor better, apparently I was doing it wrong and it bothered him. Aside from the proper strap placement it was hard to learn much else from him, his vocabulary is a little lacking and he relies on his instinct mostly so he can't articulate his insights very well.

Later I practically begged Aela to show me the bow. She was a little off put but agreed to a short lesson. I got the basic form down but Aela got frustrated when she tried to explain the particulars to me. I couldn't help it. She started to use that husky tone when describing the finer points of marksmanship and I just turned to jelly. Aela huffed and said that I shouldn't waste her time if I wasn't serious. There wasn't much else I could do. I stood there for a good minute afterwards trying not to pass out.

I spent my remaining day watching Eorlund work and reading. Eorlund doesn't talk much - or at all but just watching him is helpful. I think. Eventually though he gets tired of me and hands me a book by the forge to go read anywhere else. The Armorer's Challenge is a good read, if a bit basic in its message. It gives me a feeling quite unlike any other book I've ever read, even the spell books.

The Companions also made a point to drag me to the feasting table for dinner. I don't really get it but apparently it's important for them to eat together. More than a few were upset that I missed last night's dinner to sleep instead. 

Regardless, today I've got everything I need to head out to Riverwood today. I hope they're not insistent on me spending a lot of nights in Jorrvaskr. If I survive I'll probably only be around once a week on a good month.

The hike back up to Riverwood is uneventful, if a bit longer than I remember. The detachment of guards the Jarl sent to protect Riverwood likely cleared or spooked any potential dangers along the road.

No one greets me this evening in Riverwood. It's hardly surprising. The innkeeper remembers me when I rent a room for the night but no one else acknowledges me. I spend the rest of the daylight with my feet in the river, reading and nibbling on cheese. I find another book among my growing collection that gives me a similar feeling to The Armors Challenge, called The Death Blow of Abernanit.

In it a warrior blessed by three gods fights a Daedra worshiper with an impenetrable blocking technique. Unable to pierce his shield, the warrior tricks the Daedra lover by pretending to be beaten, and asks for the secret to his impossible blocking ability. Lost in thought, for the Daedra worshiper only ran on instinct and could not articulate how he did what he did, the warrior snuck in a cheap shot. Or the "Death Blow of Abernanit'' as the book called it.

The morning comes and now the nerves are starting to set in. I have a lot of things to do and most of them are trying not to die. Luckily I have a small side quest I can procrastinate with.

"Welcome back to the Riverwood Trader." Lucan says with a smile. "My sister Camille or I will be happy to help you."

I look through his stock again and not much has changed. I'm flat broke anyway so it wouldn't have mattered. I should have mentioned it earlier but I'm not actually looking at physical items on a shelf, though he does have those, I'm perusing his inventory with my mind. I still have to call out what I want so he can pull it out but for the most part shopping in Skyrim just looks like a staring contest.

"Not much has changed since last time, did those thieves take everything?" I remark.

"Ah, no." Lucan replies in embarrassment. "The thieves were only after one thing. An ornament made of solid gold. In the shape of a dragon's claw."

"I could help you find it." I quickly offer.

"You could? I've got some gold coming in from my last shipment. It's yours if you bring my claw back." he offers desperately.

All according to plan. 

"So this is your plan Lucan?" Camille interjects.

No, it's mine thank you.

"Yes. So now you don't have to go, do you?" Lucan replies, triumphant.

"Well I think your new helper needs a guide." she counters.

"Wh…no…I…. Oh by the eight fine! But only to the edge of town!" he says defeated.

Camilla rises victoriously and nearly skips out of the store. She does remember to wait for me just outside the door, practically beaming. If I remember right she was the town flirt with a secret desire for adventure. Or at least excitement. In the game she becomes a marriage candidate after you retrieve the claw.

"We have to go through town and across the bridge to get to Bleak Falls Barrow. You can see it from here, though. The mountain just over the buildings." she points.

It's not like it's hard to miss. Those dark stone arches dominate the landscape even at this angle. Still it's hard to miss the enthusiasm she has, the poor girls obviously had more fantasies just about that one place than I've had birthdays.

"Those thieves must be mad, hiding out there." she continues on. "Those old crypts are filled with nothing but traps, trolls, and who knows what else! I wonder why they only stole Lucan's golden claw. I mean, we have plenty of things in the shop that are worth just as much coin. Lucan found the claw about a year after he opened the store. He never quite explained where he got it. He's a tricky one."

While we walk down and out of town it becomes apparent that Camilla is quite popular with the townsfolk. Or at least the menfolk of the town. More than a few say hello. At least two try and stop her with a lengthy conversation, to which she deflects them each with different versions of "Sorry I'm busy". The last man, or rather mer, is a sour looking wood elf. The Bosmer eyes me up and down jealously but relaxes when he sees I'm a woman and lets us on our way. Camilla and I walk through the wall and stop just before the now familiar bridge.

"This is the bridge out of town." Camille dutifully explains. "The path up the mountain to the northwest leads to Bleak Falls Barrow. I guess I should get back to my brother. He'll throw a fit if I take too long. Such a child...."

"Do you wanna go?" I ask.

There's a pause.

"I'm sorry. What?" she asks, visibly confused. 

"I asked if you wanted to come with me. To fight bandits, get the claw, and explore the Barrow. That's what you told your brother you were going to do if he didn't do something. Right?"

Her confused look becomes conflicted. I might have said too much.

"I only said that to get Lucan to do something. I wasn't actually going to go fight some bandits in an ancient ruin. I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression." she replies.

"Don't be, that's a perfectly normal response. Well if you change your mind I could use a traveling merchant to accompany me on my adventures. You wouldn't actually go with me into any dungeons, but you would travel with me to the nearest town and manage the loot I bring up." I offer. "You don't have to answer now, wait till after I've brought the claw back. Just think about it until I get back."

I turn and leave without waiting for a response. That was probably a lot to drop on a village girl and it was a long shot anyway. Still, she's one of the better candidates to help me sell my stuff so I had to try. She's got enough expertise to be useful but not enough to take advantage of me, at least not at first. Her brother might try something fishy but I know where he lives. His shop might also be useful later and it gives me a place to send her if things don't work out. Camilla's also less likely to question some of my stranger behaviors that come with falling out of the sky from a different world. There's an arguably better choice of merchant in Whiterun but she might be too clever for me to handle.

I need a merchant I can rely on because I suck at trading and now it takes actual time to interact with a store and shopkeeper. Shopkeepers that have egos and might not always be thrilled to take whatever junk I need to get rid of. My speech skill might suffer a bit but having another brain dealing with inventory, artificial or not, will be worth it in the long run just on time saved alone. Hopefully the trading twins back in Riverwood will feel grateful enough that if they do go along with my idea they wouldn't betray me easily.

The path up the mountain is beautiful. It's verdant with adorable mossy rocks and idyllic fallen trees occasionally cluttering up this less traveled path. Those happy green rocks turn to a grumpy grey when I reach the snow line of this twin peaked mountain. I saw snow before briefly as we escaped Helgen but we were already close to the snow line and were headed down anyway. Now that I'm alone I'm headed up into the snow. And it's windy.

Is cold. Am cold. Big fucky Cold. This armor has no sleeves and I don't know why. It honestly slipped my mind to ask someone who might know. It doesn't bother me at all during the day but there's a reason I've taken to turning in as soon as the sun goes down in Skyrim. Actually several reasons but the night chill is the most cutting of them. I forgot how much of this game takes place in tundra and was kinda hoping that since I uninstalled my winter survival mod that cold just wouldn't exist. I can confirm it in fact does.

Just as I start to seriously consider heading back down I see the tower not far off. It's a random stone tower at the base of the second peak seemingly in the middle of nowhere. It is, however at the perfect spot to spy on the whole of Riverwood, which might give a clue as to why it exists. While not as ancient as the barrow it's still abandoned by any power that could have built it and in-game would be the haunt of three bandits, likely a forward camp for the bandits at the Barrow now. I can't head back just yet, not until I've had a closer look to see what I'm dealing with.

The tower itself looks like it has no business being that shape. It looks like a grey ice cream cone, thinner at the bottom and opening up at the top, covered in powdered sugar snow. A dirty orc man wearing a brown coat of sorts overlaid with hide armor leans up against a large pine that's growing adjacent to a small bridge that connects into the tower proper. I can't see anyone else but I know there's got to be at least two more. In the game that wouldn't be a problem. Kill the easy bandits, move on. But there's what might be a living breathing person in front of me, with a little Orc family waiting at home for a dad who said he was going on a "hunting" trip but really has turned to a life of crime to support his family even if it's against his principles. So, for this time at least, I'll try and negotiate a peaceful solution.

"That's close enough." he growls as I approach, pulling out a rusty mace. 

"Oh I'm not here for you, I'm here to go to the barrows at the top." I say trying to sound cheerful. 

To my relief the Orc smiles back, somehow pleased at my response. 

"Looks like we got ourselves a hero!" he yells.

Well fuck. 

His mace slams against my shield hard, numbing my arm. From the open doorway I see what I've been expecting. A skinny man with brown skin comes out with a bow and takes a potshot at me. It goes wide as he makes a concerted effort not to hit his Orc comrade. I think he should stop trying so hard to be so considerate. I fling spell energy from my hand, a red mote of magicka, at the archer. It's the fury spell I learned earlier, which amplifies the targets rage to murderous level. My plan complete and in motion I watch as the red dot flies directly at a distant mountain miles away.

Fuck.

Another mace blow hits the shield and the numbness in my arm is unfortunately gone. The Orc moves to try and grapple me but I swat him away with a shield bash to the face. A piece of tusk flies away from his face as he reels back and I suck down a magicka potion to fire off another fury spell at the archer. This time my spell connects but not before an arrow wizzes past my head now that the green guy isn't here to give me cover. The Orc recovers, clearly pissed at my cheap shot, and closes the distance once again. He goes for a haymaker swing and I just bash his face again. It's less effective this time but it does give me time to pull out my sword. The green man glares death at me before the features pull back in shock and pain. The archer finally hit something.

The Orc looks back at who shot him. He has to look back. It's almost impossible not to look back when something like that happens and the Orc might still be alive if he did the impossible. A swift slash at the throat and he falls into the hard snowy rocks. I can't afford to look at him but I can hear his breath escape his lungs in a low mournful moan.

The archer is unfortunately still alive and angry and still firing both arrows and now obscenities. That's the problem with the Fury spell, it's useless if you're the only one left. Lucky I'm not. A thick woman thickly armored in iron has climbed down from the top of the tower now to confront the much darker skinnier archer. After a brief conversation and more obscenities the woman buries her mace in the lightly armored archers' angry head. His body slumps off the bridge and down the mountainside. The war maiden regards me as I close in on her now, the terran is much more even closer to her. 

"Time to end this little game." she says.

My skinny appearance must be doing wonders for the enemies confidence. That or she's actually about to kick my ass. Either way one of us is about to be proven very wrong. She gives up what would have been a very defensible position on the bridge to rush me. She must not have seen me cast a spell earlier and gotten the wrong idea about why her two companions are dead. I take her first swing on my shield as I summon my familiar. The would be barbarian looks back and instantly realizes her mistake but now that she's in melee range with me it's too late. 

Had I summoned the wolf earlier she could have easily taken it out before it could do much damage. Now she has to choose between me or the wolf behind her to defend against. She hesitates. It will cost her her life. Like a spectral police dog my wolf spirit grabs the ankle of the bandit mid maneuver as she tries to make a panicked retreat. 

I won't say it was pretty but she did manage to keep fighting on the ground. She almost stood up using the same tree the Orc was leaning on before but the blood loss was too much and she slipped halfway up the tree. Her arms reflexively try to catch her fall and my sword finds the killing blow. Her whole body relaxes and her final breath escapes her lips as her dulling eyes behold a fading sky.

I'm happy to be alive and the battle was almost what you would call fun but the corpses left after the fact are really dampening my mood. Looting bodies hits different when they still occasionally twitch. I take the woman's armor and warm clothes she has wearing underneath and wear the warm underlayer as quickly as possible. I'll save her armor for later when I can work it myself. My Imperial stuff should still be better anyway for now.

Climbing the mountain I'm a lot warmer now. I go up two zags to finally see Bleak Falls Barrow up close. A massive staircase of dark stone clearly meant for multitudes of people dominate this side of the structure. The stairs lead up to a large platform that's adorned with the arches that you can see so clearly in Riverwood. I can't tell if they're purely decorative or if they served some ancient purpose, like a really big tent or something.

In the game I always charged up the steps and dispatched the bandits no problem but in real life those steps look like a kill zone and I'm feeling awfully squishy. Learning my lesson I change into my light Imperial armor for stealth. I take the long way and walk almost behind the Barrow. The Barrow was built into the mountain and years of erosion and snow have made many natural paths to get on the platform that are less likely to be watched. I find a narrow strip behind the main structure that makes it only possible for them to fight me one on one if they find me. 

This fight goes much smoother. From the shadows I fire a Fury at one of the exposed bandits and chaos ensues. Thanks to my genius skill point placement earlier I still have enough magicka to summon my familiar and together we finish off the last of the bandits. 

"No…." 

The bandit woman pleads too late and I end her. It's not like I'm just murdering these guys willy nilly. They've had plenty of chances to live, but they only beg for their life when they can't take mine. Granted I imagine giving bandits mercy is going to be a mixed bag, when it works. Still while I'm a fan of living I'm not a fan of how corpsey it gets when I win like this.

Regardless, the courtyard is mine in all its frozen snowy glory. I don't want it anymore so I move to Barrow doors, two massive circular stone slabs not unlike a half hobbit door but bigger. While contemplating how to open the doors without making noise I realize I don't have to. One of the gigantic doors is open just enough for a normal sized person to pass through.

I slip inside like a bar of soap no problem. Antichamber is the word that comes to mind when I look at this space. Light and a little snow pour in from holes in the ceiling, held up by a few brave pillars while their brethren nap beside them. Also permanently napping are some more bandits and giant dead rats, which I can only assume are skeevers. There are still three breathing bandits that I can see, one off in the corner and a man and woman standing by a campfire. They appear to be in heated conversation.

 "So we're just supposed to sit here while Arvel runs off with that golden claw?" asks the woman.

"That dark elf wants to go on ahead, let him. Better than us risking our necks." replies the man.

"What if Arvel doesn't come back? I want my share from that claw!" she whines.

"That's the boss's problem. Just shut it and keep an eye out for trouble."

He says that but they don't really move away from their fire much at all. So much for vigilance. I realize the other bandit in the corner is pooping behind a fallen pillar. It's everything I need to formulate my plan. 

I charge a Fury spell and cast it on the male by the fire. Both bandits react to the noise but the echo makes it impossible to find me before the spell hits my victim. He promptly buries his ax in the woman's skull in a fit of magically induced rage. She falls and the combined noises convinces the third bandit to pinch it off and stand, adjusting his fur pants awkwardly. The angry bandit sees his next target and dashes to his now constipated companion. I ready my bow.

The poop bandit is putting up more of a fight than the woman did but he's no match for the surprise assault and is soon scrambling on the floor trying to defend himself shouting things like "Stop" and "Why Bjorn?". I steady my breathing and try to aim just how Aela taught me. Between these two bandits I know which one I'd rather deal with and fire my arrow into the back of the angry bandit. He stumbles and the poop bandit manages to get a good slash across the chest before the angry bandit falls dead. 

The poop bandit sits there breathing heavily and bleeding slightly. I decide to make my presence known by waking up and summoning my familiar.

"Your friends are dead. Grab your shit and leave." I demand.

The poop bandit nods quickly and wipes the blood from his sliced up nose. I feel bad for the guy but I don't want a dagger in the back so I only watch as struggles to stand. Then he moves back to the corner he started in and literally starts picking up his shit.

"Oh my God, not that shit. Your stuff! I meant your stuff! Jesus…" I yell exasperated.

"Oh, okay…" he says, carefully putting down his poo like it was valuable or something. He leaves soon after, picking up nothing and tripping on a dead skeever as he leaves, poop still on his hands.

My first attempt at mercy did not go as planned.

With him out of the way I begin scavenging the chamber. Nothing of note on the bandits but there is a locked chest close to their bedrolls by the fire. I've bought some more lockpicks since my abysmal failure at Helgen and I should have all the time in the world now to practice. It takes a fair bit of time and two picks but without the pressure of a dragon attack I remember enough from YouTube lockpicking videos to eventually crack it open.

There's only a little gold and one potion but the joy I feel from opening the chest is worth double what's here. I also leveled up again. The experience is becoming second nature to me now and is much less disruptive. I place a point in heavy armor for what's to come. 

Down into the Barrow I go. The hallways here are fairly spacious and surprisingly well lit. Not too much in the way of treasure, just old burial cloth and ancient embalming tools. The hallway opens up into another smaller chamber where what I'm assuming is the bandit leader lying face down next to a lever. 

This is the puzzle room, meant to stop stupid intruders. I say stupid because usually the answer to these puzzles is in plain sight or the traps are easily evaded. I know the answer to this one by heart, snake, snake, whale. I turn the stone pillars to the correct animal, pull the lever, and stand out of the way of where the trap would be just in case. The gate opens just like it would in game. 

Search a table, fight some living skeevers and head down an old wooden spiral staircase . Everything is sadly the same, including the table of spider foreshadowing. On the table is a weak potion of paralysis and a scroll of fireball. Scrolls are similar to potions in that they are spells turned into objects, but much more literally so. No skill is required to use them but they are one use and don't teach the spell.

Further down I go and now the hallways are starting to be plastered with a familiar thick sticky webbing in every corner. At the foot of the stairs the room ahead is covered so badly with it that it literally blocks my path. 

"Is... is someone coming? Is that you Harknir? Bjorn? Soling?" a voice cries out from the next room. 

I ignore it. Even if he dies in the next minute it won't affect me. The npc was written as a traitor destined to die anyway. I take my time and use Flames to burn away webbing from a hidden treasure chest. I hear the voice again and something… larger stirring.

"I know I ran ahead with the claw, but I need help!" he cries again. 

If he knew what was good for him he would shut the fuck up. It's still stirring up on the ceiling and I wait for it to stop before I start preparing. I pull out my Imperial sword and apply the poison to it, I don't trust my bow skills yet and this needs to land. The sword goes back into my inventory and I summon my familiar to guard me. My hands are ablaze as I summon Flames to break the last of the webbing separating this section of the chamber from the rest.

Barely stepping into the chamber I can see the scared little dark elf wiggling helplessly in the webs. Just above him in a large hole in the ceiling is a massive frostbite spider the size of two horses curled up and staring directly at me, it's many eyes reflecting the dim daylight that streams into this space.

We stare into each other's eyes for only a moment before making our move. Shelob crawls with disgusting speed into the ceiling and down the wall. Fire flies from my hand and a fireball bursts on the spider, causing it to fall from the top of the wall and land with a sickening crunch. Any hope I had of the spider's early demise is quickly dashed as it demonically thrashes to flip itself. Crying a little I pull out my sword and charge the beast while it's still prone. My heart sinks when it not only flips over before I can get to it but also manages to face me in one fluid motion. 

I go through with my swing away, knowing it can't dodge after such a maneuver. The nightmare beast freezes in place as one of its pedipalps falls to the floor. The poison worked and now I have three seconds to do as much damage as I can. I aim for the closest leg I can find and hack away. I only get on swing before Shelob starts moving again. I keep at it, unlike the pedipalps the leg feels like it's made of steel. 

Choking back tears I'm forced back leaving the leg dented at the joint but still very much intact. The enormous spider washes over me like a tidal wave knocking me over as it tries to sink its massive fangs into me. Those fangs grip my shield like two oversized eagle talons, dripping poison everywhere. It feels like hot ice on my skin and I squirm on my back. I drop my sword to blow Flame at it. It takes a moment but It eventually shudders back. But not from me.

Shelob's leg is missing, the same one I had been working on, in the mouth of my wolf familiar. The spider teeters off balance now not just from one missing leg but from several missing limbs from long ago battles. Some are in the process of growing back making it look like the beast was more whole than it actually was. 

Pressing the advantage I continue to blast it with Flame. It tries to get away but it's clumsy and awkward now. Too clumsy to crawl back in its hole as I roast it alive. The thing dies, bubbling and hissing, but I keep burning it until my magicka runs out, which isn't very long but I do it on principle. 

I pick up my sword and just breathe for a moment next to the softly smoldering spider. My familiar spell wears off just as the thief finds his voice.

"You did it. You killed it. Now cut me down." he says in a much more polite tone.

I honestly don't have the bandwidth to deal with this guy so I just melt the webs around him with some Flame. He flinches at the heat but as soon as he's loose he takes off in a run further into the Barrow like I expected. 

"You fool! Why should I share the treasure with anyone?!" we say in unison, although he's much too far to hear me mock him.

He's just gonna die to the spring gate trap. That or the draugr will murder him. Nord zombies designed to serve in dragon temples like this one. I really don't have the energy to try and save his ass. Again. Instead he can pay me back by waking up all the traps and zombies so I can see what I'm dealing with.

I carefully move through the next few chambers far behind the Dunmer. These next rooms look like they were used for embalming and I don't really find anything useful aside from a soul gem inside an urn. Soon enough down some stairs I see that I've entered the burial chambers proper. Stone bunks two rows high house the dead in various states of decay. Three of the dead are standing around their latest addition to the crypt. The dark elf's body has been forcibly launched by the trap into an empty stone bunk. Violently. It's probably a good thing I can't see his face right now. The zombies must have heard me from my heavy armor and all look up in unison. Well sheet.

Draugr are withered zombies that move and behave just like people but with poor social skills and glowing blue eyes. I believe they retain a diminished soul of sorts but I don't think I can talk them out of trying to not kill me. I stand at the top of the stairs with shield and Flame out. Two of the draugr rush me, with one staying behind to pull out a bow. The other two brandish weapons of dark metal. I spray the steps with Flame using the spell's flamethrower like effect to burn both of them while retreating slowly. The first one reaches me and reels back for a great swing just as the light fades from his eyes and he falls down the stairs extra crispy. The other one tries to approach with his shield raised for protection but the fire easily spreads beyond the shield and roasts his dusty ass all the same. That does leave me out of magicka to deal with the last one but I'm quietly confident I can hack and slash the archer in a one on one. Approaching with my shield up I flinch but don't stop as arrows hit the shield. I shield bash her bow when I'm close enough and cut her down with just a few swings.

I smile to myself as I pick through the bodies. The draugr seem to be just as strong but much less intelligent than the living, which is very good for me. There should be only draugr ahead from here on out in similar numbers. Aside from the traps and their final boss nothing else should be able to kill me if I'm smart. I pick up a few of the wicked looking weapons from the zombies. I'll look at it later and see if it can replace some of my current stuff. I move over to the mangled corpse of the Dunmer and pick up a three toed golden dragon's claw. It looks more mechanical than realistic and that makes sense since it's actually a key. I side step the very obvious pressure plate that activates a large bloody spring loaded metal grate to move further down.

Up ahead is another draugr sleeping at the top of yet more stairs. This draugr is one of two more powerful variants that live in here besides the boss and if I'm careless they could probably easily kill me. A part of me is really excited to try and limit test myself since I've killed everything that's stood in my way so far with relative ease and I'd really like to know how strong I actually am. Still I'll play it safe for now.

He goes down after some arrows, Flames, and a few sword swings to finish him off. I was hoping to use the spring trap but apparently he's still smart enough to know better. I was worried for a moment when he killed my familiar in one shot but there turned out to be just too much distance for him to cover to reach me in any meaningful way. The rest of the dungeon proceeds in a similar fashion. I dodge traps, methodically fight draugr, and loot what I can. I leave most of their weapons behind as they are too heavy and not worth very much despite their appearance. The dark metal is actually just a type of unpolished steel made to look mean. I do take a one handed sword and a two handed battleaxe for later. I'll ditch my Imperial sword when I get a new armor set. The big axe will be used mainly for looks but also for some two handed practice later.

Now I stand before the great puzzle door of Bleak Falls Barrow. It is, as is tradition, an unnecessarily large stone slab of a door with no obvious handle. Instead a dinner plate sized circle with three holes sits at the center flanked above by three half circles with an animal motif in the center of each in a line above the dinner plate. After playing with the door a bit I get the half circles to rotate after I press in one of the motifs. The answer to the door is actually on the back of the claw I got from the dark elf but I know the answer by heart, or rather by feel. Each half circle is rotated twice, rotating into the door, revealing more animal motifs that should be in the correct order now. I plug in the claw into the plate indent and give it a turn and the door starts to disappear, grinding its way down past centuries of dust to be a few inches off the floor.

Inside is the largest chamber by far. A mix of stonework and natural cavern, the interior is well lit from the outside. Most of the space is just a large cathedral sized cave with unworked, uneven surfaces but the part that has been worked dominates the center space. Across a relatively small bridge is what looks like a ritual space and on top of that is a ritual table next to a sarcophagus and a treasure chest. Framing it all is a massive word wall, an ancient memorial wall written in the dragon language that a Dragonborn can use to learn a word of power so if I'm the Dragonborn I should feel something as I approach the word wall. 

Crossing the small narrow bridge I strain my ears to hear the otherworldly chanting that defines these word wall encounters. All I can hear is the gentle babbling of the stream below the bridge. I make it to the ritual area and it's still quiet. I don't touch the wall. In the game that's what triggers the boss battle, although I still don't fully trust the zombie that's definitely in the coffin next to me. Scanning the table I'm slowly coming to terms with the fact that I'm probably not the Dragonborn. Honestly it's a huge weight off my shoulders because it means someone else will have to deal with all that world ending metaphysical crap. It does mean I'll have to find something different to do with my life here though. I'm not really sure I want to be an adventurer, risking life and limb, if I don't have to. 

I carefully eye the coffin as I open the chest and seeing no reaction dive into the treasure hold. A few steel weapons, old coins and one banded shield. Nothing too exciting. I trade out some of these better preserved weapons for the ones the draugr where using and close the lid. 

Now we come to the question.

"Hu, Huah, Hur!"

How to wake up old bossy bones.

"Hu, Huah, Hur!"

I could go back and get some of the oil lamps that didn't explode. 

"Hu, Huah, Hur!"

Put them all in front of his stone sarcophagus and just light them up.

"Hu, Huah, Hur!"

Seriously, what is that noise? I turn around to see a single word on the wall lit up blue and calling to me. The chanting gets louder and louder as I'm inextricably pulled closer. 

"Hu, Huah, Hur! Hu, Huah, Hur! Hu, Huah, Hur! Hu, Huah, Hur! Hu, Huah, Hur! Hu, Huah, Hur! Hu, Huah, Hur! Hu, Huah, Hur! Hu, Huah, Hur! Hu, Huah, Hur! Hu, Huah, Hur! Hu, Huah, Hur! Hu, Huah, Hur! Hu, Huah, Hur! Hu, Huah, Hur! Hu, Huah, Hur! Hu, Huah, Hur! Hu, Huah, Hur! Hu, Huah, Hur! Hu, Huah, Hur! Hu, Huah, Hur! Hu, Huah, Hur! Hu, Huah, Hur! Hu, Huah, Hur! Hu, Huah, Hur! Hu, Huah, Hur! Hu, Huah, Hur!"

My hand touches the word wall before I can stop myself. The chanting reaches a crescendo as the word passes into me. I know now that this is Fus, or Force. I knew it before from playing the game but now it's different. All the other words on this wall are meaningless to me except for Force. The words here aren't in English letters, it's all chicken scratches except for Fus to me. It's a surreal experience.

Hiss. Pop. THUD.

The sarcophagus is open and its occupant is pissed.