Cycle of the Serpent

The road twisted narrowly from the bridge, angled and sloping, lined with strange stones. Some appeared intentionally arranged and stuck in their ways, watching the young elves through every crack in their worn surfaces. Some were more incidental, shrugging off the weather. Some appeared to be severed off from old pillars, smoothed by the many years gone by and wondering where their extra heights had gone. Emeros kept an eye on the greenery, on the land that gradually grew more and more distant, the town that faded from view as the three marched up the pathway.

The gradual drop in temperature intensified itself the further they got from Riverwood, the dusting of snow that cropped up at the tops of new and unfamiliar trees still preserved this far into Last Seed, and by the looks of the powdery texture, had fallen not too long ago. The pathway in its drastic angles took on more danger, as ice collected at the bases of the evergreens. Meticulous with their footing, the three carried themselves up the path to the barrow, careful to examine each stone they pressed their boots against.

Emeros had been in various ruins for any number of purposes over the years. He'd adventured into Ayleid ruins in his earliest days in Cyrodiil, never leaving the first chamber if he could help it, collecting samples of the mosses and fungi that grew within. Sometimes, he'd find an interesting vine, or a plant he hadn't recognized from the surface world. He'd take great pains to preserve them until he could examine them safely, testing new potions and properties, inspiration his guide in every experiment. If he combined this amount of imported trama root with this amount of the unidentified fungi, placed it in an already known potion recipe, how would it change the effects? Would it create something to heal, or to harm?

What new concoctions could he make with the native flora of Skyrim? And maybe, if luck was on his side, would he find something previously unknown in this ancient place?

The trio trudged onward, the wind whipping at their faces, brushing flakes of snow like tiny spears against their skin. The cold was one factor all of them wished they'd prepared more thoroughly for, but if they were going to explore this place and bring back the claw, then they had to keep going. Day had long since crest the mountains, rising above them in a lustrous sheen of blue, light bleaching the landscape before them a harsh, eye-pulsing white.

As they turned their eyes to the top of the mountain, a strange stone tower came into view. Weathered by the ages and capped with snow, the sight alone sent shivers through the Bosmer. Emeros hissed for the others to get down, snagging the other two by their tunics, hidden behind a massive stone. When Wyndrelis was about to quietly protest, Emeros pressed a finger to his own lips and then gestured to the tower. The other two Mer looked.

A figure marched the slim, dreadful bridge from the tower to the mountain, back and forth at an easy pace. Bandits. And they'd almost walked right into their line of sight.

"What do we do?" Athenath asked in a hushed tone, partially unsheathing their newly acquired sword. Wyndrelis pressed his spine to the rock they huddled behind, with the spare, occasional glance to the figure.

"Emeros, you have a bow. Can you use it?" Wyndrelis asked in a hush, Emeros already nocking an arrow.

"I've been hunting in Valenwood since my childhood," he answered, taking aim. He shut one eye, lined up his shot, and stilled his breaths.

"Not yet!"

Emeros startled at Athenath's hard whisper, grip on the arrow tighter. He slid it forward, letting the string go slack. He cursed under his breath as he turned to Athenath, brow quirked and eyes narrow. The Altmer pressed palms to the sides of Emeros' head, and as the alchemist was about to protest, his eyes landed on a detail he'd missed.

Up the incline, pacing back and forth before them, a bandit that no one else had seen.

Two targets, then.

He looked to his companions, then to the bandit. This would come down to timing, by his own analysis. If he took one out without the other noticing at first, it would give him a few seconds to get another arrow and put the last one down. Then, they could safely traverse the mountainside. He gave Athenath one last look, this time the slightest gleam of a grin on his lip, not daring to speak too much. He knelt in the snow, nocked his arrow, and waited.

When the bandit at the fortress had their back turned, he fired. This arrow pierced through a weak spot in the incline-bandit's armor, injuring them, stunning for a moment before Emeros got another arrow through their neck. He shifted his attentions to the fortress-bandit, who dashed to the crumpled body of their companion. He fired, and this shot went clean through the torso, spearing the upper chest, likely a lung, if he guessed from here.

"I think that's all of them." Wyndrelis rose from behind the stone, wiping the snow from his trousers as he grabbed his belongings. The three rushed to the bodies, and as they confirmed that the bandits were dead, Athenath began to rifle through the pockets of the corpses. Emeros sputtered protests, but as the Altmer produced some gold, some new arrows, and a set of leather gauntlets, he found himself complaining much less. They handed the leather gauntlets to Emeros, then stood and stretched.

Wyndrelis thought something over for a moment. Then, he knelt, slowly undoing the fastens and buckles of the much warmer-looking armor the bandits wore.

"What in Oblivion are you doing?" Emeros hissed, Wyndrelis looking up at the other momentarily before returning to his task. Athenath joined in, helping Wyndrelis lift the fur-lined piece from the first body before they descended on the second.

"It's not like they need it, and we can't run around looking like soldiers forever," Athenath retorted.

Wyndrelis agreed, pulling the first set of armor to himself. He shifted his gaze to Athenath, brow knit. "Tell me, why did he get the gauntlets?"

Athenath shrugged as they looked up to Emeros momentarily, before handing over a soul gem they'd dug out of a bandits pack Dunmer, who tucked it into his pocket. "Archers usually need them, right? Something about the string?"

Emeros gave a small, apprehensive nod, and even though his features were marred with the shock of the pair descending upon the dead like carrion birds, he figured that they had a point. It wasn't like any of them could afford to buy armor right now, and none of them needed to run around dressed as Imperial soldiers in potentially-hostile land.

He donned the gauntlets. The leather fit well over his fingers, and most importantly, they were warm. The other two bundled up fur and leather armors, before they stepped into the tower, nudging their steps with extra caution over the frail bridge. Rifling through drawers gave them more gold and a place to toss the Imperial armor without much worry. They'd have to hurry, though. Taking too much time here meant that they were both wasting time they could be using to get in and out of the barrow, and meant that it gave the bandits more time to come find them, and the bodies of their compatriots.

Once Athenath and Wyndrelis had donned the bandit armor - "Well, you didn't seem to want it," Wyndrelis shuffled the explanation awkwardly out - the three inched back to the stability of the mountain, the wind whipping furiously around them. The steep pathway lead further upwards, to the enormous stone arches and sharp angles of the ancient ruins. Stairs slick with ice rose up to a gigantic platform, the air thick with worry. Something innate gnawed at Emeros, the warnings of old friends from northern High Rock not to head into similar structures rumored to line the furthest reaches of the province murmuring in the back of his mind. He shook them away. This was not the same. This was something he'd said he'd do, and he would bloody do it.

"We should be on our guard. Two bandits means there's probably more, and if we're not careful, we'll walk right into a trap."

"Or another ambush." Wyndrelis joked dryly. Emeros rolled his eyes, but still, he laughed.

"Or another ambush." He repeated, grinning.

The dark, snow-covered stone gathered in points towards the sky. They made a calculated approach, the three in a line as they focused on any potential movement from the structure. When bandits emerged from the shadows of the ancient, high-arched ruins, the caution came in handy. One of them fired arrows down at the three, barking at them to leave with their lives or they'd gut them like a purse. Athenath flinched and dodged the barrage, Wyndrelis holding up a ward, magicka pouring into his fingertips, collected in arching light. He pushed forward, Emeros using the ward's cover as a shield to fire his own arrows behind. This time, it took several shots, moving as he fired at a simultaneously moving target. He cursed and hissed as he fired at the figure until he saw them kneel, then another, then down.

A second bandit charged with a war axe, Wyndrelis using his other hand to fire a bolt of lightning that struck through the middle, jarring the bandit enough to give Athenath an opening. The Altmer charged, bashing the hilt of their sword into the back of the bandits head, hoping they'd only knocked them out.

The final bandit rushed Emeros, nearly swiping their blade into him. The Bosmer ducked down by an inch, bringing his own sword from its hilt and striking them through the chest, pushing it as deep as he could muster in the moment. The armor gave way as the bandit struggled to block, a fight that lasted mere seconds and ended just as quickly. The three caught their breaths, snow now pelting down at them from the pale clouds above their heads. Whatever world they'd just ambled into gave them one hell of a welcome.

Better than the one they'd all received at the border, Emeros thought as he tugged his cowl tighter, thefurious winds knocking the fabric off his head every time he attempted to right it. Grumbling, he left it around his neck as a scarf, and trudged up the final stairs to the doorway of Bleak Falls Barrow.

Adrenaline throttled their veins. The Mer looked between one another. Then, Emeros slowly pushed open the door to the barrow, into the dim chamber that would seal their decision. No going back from here, the decision decreed. No turning back.

The floor of the massive chamber was littered with the frozen corpses of skeever, half-frozen with the mountain cold. Pillars which must have once stood, dignified and imposing, had crumbled into heaps of large stone, some in the shapes of animal heads, some as simply blocks, knocked over by the hands of the ages. Snow drifted in from outside, coating the floors near the doorway in a thin layer of white flakes and ice. Holes in the ceiling illuminated what would have been a pitch-dark space, more snow drifting in and making the already-freezing chamber unbelievably frigid. A single light at the end of the room burned bright, the only source of heat. The elves carefully knelt behind one of the only standing pillars, close enough to get a clear look at the bandits that stood near a fire, and more importantly, in front of a passage. Two figures, revealed only by the light of the small fire they'd made and the extreme shadows they cast, paced back and forth, speaking.

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

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

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

"Just shut it and keep an eye out for trouble."

The pair of thieves patrolled their end of the chamber. Emeros readied his bow, but again, Athenath shook their head rapidly, making gestures with his hands that neither of his companions could decipher. Emeros narrowed his gaze at them. "Would you rather do it, then?"

The whisper came out much harsher than he intended, but Athenath, unfazed, motioned to a column a few paces away, near an empty stone coffin. They whispered back, "don't risk it from here. That'll get you closer, and it's a good hiding spot."

He hesitated. As much as he wanted to object - drawing nearer would mean drawing attention to himself if he didn't tread lightly - he had to admit, if only to himself, it was a fairly good idea. Less distance, less chance of missing, less chance of drawing attention to himself. And it provided ample cover, plenty of shadows to blend into, and if that was the case, then if the bandits noticed motion out of their periphery, then he would be concealed enough to wait out their investigations. Plus, if the bandits did come to check out the strange movement, it gave the other two plenty of time to attack from behind.

Emeros shifted, edging his way across the room, through the dark, eyes locked in the pacing bandits. Neither of them seemed to notice him, and as soon as he knelt behind the stone coffin, he readied his bow. He stilled his breathing, his heartrate slowing. He pulled back, locked in on one figure.

One shot. The other bandit jolted and began to search for him. They trudged through the dim and found the back of the coffin, inching ever closer, but before they could glimpse the crouched Bosmer, Wyndrelis smashed his mace against the bandit's skull with a sickening crack that reverberated all throughout the chamber. They tumbled to the floor, dead eyes facing the high, arched ceilings.

After a moment in the still, Wyndrelis gestured to the body. "Armor, if you want."

Emeros stifled down a chuckle, bleeding over into a grin and a shake of his head, a twist of amusement curled into the motion as he rose. "Excellent. Let's rest a moment and adjust our armor and be off."

The three found the bedrolls the bandits had set around the fire to be the perfect place to take a break. Aside from where blades and arrows had punctured the material and the still-damp bloodstains, it fit well. They adjusted one another, Emeros' scrupulous eye examining straps and buckles to ensure everything came together enough to protect them from whatever lay ahead. He looked between the other two as they sat by the fire, warming themselves before they had to head into the icy depths, and asked Athenath to help adjust his own armor. They looked at him, grinning like he'd made a joke.

"You want my help now?" They teased, and Emeros drew his lips in one thin line, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You spotted things that neither of us could, I think it's a wise bet. Hurry, I have a feeling that we're not exactly alone in these ruins."

The Altmer fixed some of the buckles to where the armor hugged the Bosmers frame beneath the leather, and ensured everything set in it's place. Then, getting Wyndrelis' opinion and approval, they all sat around the fire that the bandits had left, stoking it with the end of a sword and letting themselves breathe a moment before they descended further, into the uncharted depths.

"Do you think there's much further to go?" Wyndrelis raised the question, and the other two shrugged. Emeros was unfamiliar with Nord ruins, so he didn't know what to prepare the group for. If these were anything akin to the Ayleid ruins, then they would sprawl almost endlessly, tales of other alchemists and scholars ringing in the very distant reaches of his memory. He pulled his knapsack close to himself, opening it and dragging his waterskin from inside, taking a long drink.

"I'm unsure of what lay ahead, so be very wary of your surroundings. If there's just more bandits, at least we know what we're up against, and know how to handle it with certainty."

The tunnel sloped downward into the ruins, spiderwebs covering the walls and breaking apart on Wyndrelis' mace. He spun it into the webbing, then wiped it off on the wall until the webs stuck, stripping off from the metal. The altar and small urns ahead were the least concerning feature of the newly discovered space. Instead, the fully lit brazier, burning calmly in this abandoned space caught all three's attentions, Emeros swallowing down his apprehension at the sight.

"Maybe there's more bandits?" Athenath suggested in a quiet voice.

"There must be. Don't you recall, they mentioned someone else? Then there's other life in this barrow." He hoped it came out more assuring than it likely did, but the Bosmer wasn't sure it had the intended effect. Wyndrelis tugged open an urn, Athenath pulling the book off the altar, flipping through it, and setting it back down as though bored immediately. Emeros looked to the further-extending tunnel, leading the group slowly, taking great pains not to trip on the vines that crept the floors, thick along the walls. Were these vines or were these roots? Just how far down below the mountain were they, actually? Emeros couldn't think too much on it, pressing forward, using the fading light of the brazier as a guide.

The barrow shirked light off as easily as it granted it, the three making their careful ways in dim lighting from whatever braziers were lit. A dead skeever at one, and a turn to a narrow passageway lined with rotten bookshelves that almost seemed to creak as the three stepped between them and the smaller brazier. Did this place exist to taunt them? Emeros had always had an interest in ruins, but since he'd been warned heavily of any that may have dotted the northern countryside of High Rock, he'd always declined a chance to search them, and exercised great caution when entering any others. Now, he had the opportunity to see the Nord variety up close, and he wasn't enjoying it nearly as much as he may have ten, fifteen, thirty years ago.

Still, a promise held itself over his head, and breaking them was not a habit he intended to create.

The roots grew thicker now, firmer, and multiplied in their numbers as Athenath gingerly toed between them, careful of their footing. Emeros lead the way, showing his own steps, how he examined every space to be sure he wouldn't press his foot down wrong and slip and twist his ankle. Wyndrelis followed the other two, his eyes flicking from the brazier to the pathway downward.

"Hold on," he whispered harshly, causing the other two Mer to snap their eyes to him, flames reflecting in the lenses of his spectacles. He moved quietly from the brazier, creeping along the wall, his lanky figure reminding Emeros of a salamander with the way he pressed to the wall and moved along it. The Dunmer pulled from its surface and peered into the chamber ahead, a figure passing in front of the entrance, shadow pushing its way into their observations. "Bandit."

"What do we do?" Emeros whispered, looking to his companions. None of them knew how many were ahead, and taking risks seemed the last resort in this situation. Athenath quickly wove between the roots and crept down, inching ever closer to the chamber entrance. Silently, the other two followed, mimicking the same posture as the three watched the bandit pull a large lever rising up from the floor.

Arrows, quicker than any person could fire, struck through the body that was well dead before it hit the ground. That didn't stop them from flying from every direction, more piercing the corpse that now slumped against the lever, the sounds of the barrage finally ceasing.

"Right, then," Emeros breathed, inching into the room, shoulders tensing, "is there any way we can figure thi-"

"Look," Athenath pointed up at the ceiling. The row of stone animals stared back at the three Mer, all examining their surfaces from the distance. A snake and a whale. Then, shifting his extended index finger downward, Athenath pointed to the one that had long since fallen and become entangled in stone.

Another snake.

"That's assuming these are not just decorative," Wyndrelis hummed skeptically as he looked around. He glanced between the pillars on the floor, then to the carvings, then to the other two. "Perhaps the same animals are on both?"

Emeros looked to the pillars in a neat line on the ground. All had some other animal on them. "I don't know, perhaps they move?" He stepped closer, rubbing a hand over the surface of a depicted hawk, brushing years of dust from its surface. He rubbed his hand on his thigh, scrubbing off the dirt with a scrunched nose. Athenath moved to the middle stone, grasping the top of it. He grunted and cursed at the stone until it shifted, thousands-years-old mechanisms springing to life as it spun. Emeros looked back to the depictions on the ceiling, Wyndrelis getting the same idea.

"Snake, snake, whale," Wyndrelis instructed, watching as the other two Mer turned the stones with exertion, twisting them until they spun on their own mechanisms. When the pattern matched Wyndrelis' instructions, the three crowded around the lever, the air thickening with their apprehensions.

"Who should pull it?" Athenath darted his gaze between the other two.

"We all should. Do it together, I mean. It feels... Wrong, to volunteer someone to death if we fail." Wyndrelis turned to the Bosmer, who shrugged.

"We could draw straws. I'm sure that would-" Wyndrelis pressed his heel into the toe of Emeros' boot, causing the other to grunt in pain and, after a moment, throw his hands in the air in resignation.

"Fine, fine! Let's all pull the bloody lever together." If we die, at least it's not alone, he mentally added.

One palm around it for each. Three hands to pull an ancient mechanism. As they all pushed it down, they waited for darts to puncture their bodies, to send them flying to the ground, but none came. Athenath squeezed their eyes shut in anticipation. Emeros looked to Wyndrelis, who stared straight ahead, motionless, all waiting.

The metal gate hurled itself upwards, the sound jolting the elves. Emeros spun on his heel, releasing the lever. He readjusted his posture, all tension dropped as though he never believed there were any danger to begin with, and marched through at a brisk and easy pace. He heard Wyndrelis' calculated footsteps, then Athenath's, the different materials of their boots easy sounds to differentiate in the stone chambers. Emeros turned, pressing his gauntlet-covered hands to the surface of what had likely once been some sort of altar, then glanced to the spiral staircase which descended into the depths of the rest of the barrow below them.

"Now, then, let's get our bearings and head on, shall we?"