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ANNOUNCEMENTS: UPDATED 12/16/2017

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Daughter of the Reach 3b/3

[(Anonymous)]

She made sure he didn’t notice her pick the purse back up and tuck it safely away in her pack. The Nord had been right on some things when he’d spoken earlier, like how she was going to need money if she was going to survive living with the Nords. As a child she’d watched merchants traverse the reach, seen them trade with the people of Karthwasten. The villagers had handed over silver bars for slight bags of clinking coins. Durst had called them Septims, and tried to teach her about the art of haggling. It had been in vain however, her concentration was terrible she’d soon been distracted by the magical displays of the witches.

“Are you coming or not?” The Werewolf shouted and she quickened her step.

It was not an uneventful trip, when the spiders kept her companion busy; she roasted a dark elf who had been caught up in the web. His screams were drowned out by the squeals of the spider and clash of metal upon bone, and Niamh had not been disappointed when she found a pretty golden claw in his pack.

As she had predicted, the draugr arose and attacked them as they ventured closer to their destination. She knew enough restoration to keep them from paying attention to her, and secretly hoped that the Nord would be overwhelmed so she could just leave with her pretty prize.

Around her the walls hummed with an energy she didn’t want to remember, prickling at the side of her brain as her fingers traced the intricate carvings on the walls around her. It was an old, horrible feeling she’d not felt since she was a little girl, and her stomach began to churn at the thought of the great stone walls here.

Wonderful.

“Are you going to just stand there?” The Nord called over to her as he struggled with the hordes that awoke to face him. She lobbed a fireball in his direction, not particularly caring who it hit, and couldn’t help but smile when he let out a shout of surprise. “Be careful!”

“Always with your complaints.” Niamh finally turned away from the walls and looked at him, watching as he blocked a swing from a particularly vicious looking enemy. “Can you hear it?”

“Hear what?” He managed, still fighting.

Niamh rolled her eyes and turned the undead from him. He sagged in relief as he cut down the fleeing corpses, finally gaining the upper hand.

“Can you hear it now?”

“If you’re so skilled in restoration, why did you not use it earlier?” He changed the subject again, back to the undead who were now no longer a problem.

“Who cares about that? I don’t like this place. I want to go now.” Leaving now seemed all the more enticing, abandoning the Nord and his stupid tablet to go rot back in the Barrows.

“It won’t be much further.”

It was another lie. Through each door they passed through she gave him a pointed look that he ignored. The walls were beginning to whisper words in the back of her head; meaningless noise that she was so sure once meant something. There was magic in the air, heavy and ghosting through her; making her spelled skin prickle as though from the cold.

“Ah, we’re at a dead end.” The werewolf said, inspecting the puzzle door whilst Niamh let her focus wander once again to the intricate carvings on the old stone walls. “Looks like it needs a dragon claw.”

“Who are the people on these drawings?” She asked, not particularly paying attention as her fingers traced the central figurehead on the panel.

“Pay attention.” He said, looking around behind the rocks. “It’ll be here somewhere.”

“You don’t know then.” She concluded, disappointed before finally tearing herself away from the woman on the wall.

He paused his search momentarily, letting his gaze move to where she had been looking before he responded. “We’re in a hall of stories.”

“Hall of stories?”

“Dedications to Kyne.” He said, “They’re common in most old ruins.”

“Old gods.”

“She’s called Kynareth now. Has a temple in Whiterun.”

Niamh nodded and let her hand drop down to her side. “I know who she is.”

“Ah, of course you do.” The Nord had the grace to look embarrassed. “Help me find the golden claw, then we can be out of here sooner rather than later.”

“It was on the man who the spider caught.” Niamh’s hand reached to her pack and she looked at him defiantly. “I took it from his body.”