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“What is the meaning of this?”
I flinch away. “No need to get up, Jenassa.”
The dunmer sits back down and stares at me coldly. Her voice drops to little more than a whisper that I must strain to hear. “I swear to Boethiah that I shall not hesitate to strike you down where you stand if you dare try anything stupid.” Continue reading Day 7, Part 2: McGonian and the Dragon
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I awake to the patter of rain against my tent. I am amazed that it is still coming down. After a light breakfast I pack up and walk due north. After my flight from the necromancer, I am even more lost than I had been before. It looks the same in every direction, so I am forced to merely aim myself in the general direction of Whiterun. It doesn’t take long before I find the road once again. Where the road leads matters little to me as it will eventually pass through a settlement, be it Whiterun or Windhelm or the Imperial City. I yearn for a proper roof over my head. It has been two days since I have felt it.
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I jolt awake.
My heart is pounding painfully hard and my dagger is immediately in hand. I crouch, listen, and wait. It seems to be mid-morning. I wait five minutes before I decide that I am alone. No reptophile vampire in sight. It appears to be midmorning. The sun should keep her at bay. I hastily break camp. When I finish, I look to the south.
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I hold up a hand. “There’ll be no need for that. I know what you want.”
Jenassa stops and lowers her blade. “The claw.”
“Yup.” I nod and turn around to look out over the lake in the distance.
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My torch has gone out, though the ancient nords have deigned to light our way with candles and torches that, curiously, are still lit. The next room is a more spacious affair and lit by large braziers. I jump out of my skin when the lid on a sarcophagus to my left explodes outwards and a draugr emerges. Two more charge down the wooden staircase on the opposite side of the room. There is a puddle of oil spilling into a drain on the floor between myself and the draugr on the stairs. Above the puddle are two burning lanterns suspended on thin ropes. I leave the draugr to the left to Jenassa and hurry to beat the other draugr to the lanterns.
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“Nords are completely mental!”
“Yes, they are! Get behind me!”
My quiver was full to bursting after I took my pick of the dead dunmer’s less valuable possessions. Good thing, too, because the first two arrows I fire at the things bounce uselessly off the walls behind them. My hands are shaking far too much to make the shot meet its mark, but my life depends on me doing so in quite the literal sense. My third arrow embeds itself firmly in the breast of one of them right where its heart should be, but the damned thing kept its feet and continued its advance on Jenassa. Its blade must have been centuries old yet looked impressively sharp. Continue reading Day 5, Part 4: Restless Dead
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“How is it that you are able to kill a man without a second thought?” I ask.
“Why do you insist on speaking to me?” she answers.
She’s forcing me to take point, and the sound of my own voice is a comfort, even if it does echo off of the foul walls of the crypt. “Why not?” I say. “Whoever is down here knows of our presence due to my low tolerance threshold for pain. Did I mention I have a low tolerance threshold for pain?”
She answers from somewhere in the darkness behind me. “Keep walking, argonian.” Continue reading Day 5, Part 3: Bleak Falls
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“If you attempt to leave now, I will kill you.”
“I must not have heard right,” I say hoarsely.
“I believe you have.”
It feels as if I am choking. I clutch my throat and wheeze, “We had an agreement!” Continue reading Day 5, Part 2: Hypothermia
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We leave before first light. The stars wink out one after the other in preparation for the dawn. The weather is pleasant on the day I believe will be my last. I imagine the air shall be crisp and clean as I desperately suck it down into my punctured lungs to hang onto life just a moment longer. Continue reading Day 5: In The Mountains…
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One day, I will hatch a terrible plot that I shall then discard without another thought.
As I stare down at the back of a hulking gray giant wielding a small tree trunk as a club, I know that day has yet to come. Continue reading Days 3-5 Part 2: The Stoppable McGonian
McGonian in Skyrim 