An odd, chilling wind blew from the mouth of the cave as the Khajiit and his sellsword stood in front of it. Stenvar raised an eyebrow, suddenly cold even with his heavy armor.
“A cave, hm? Bandits, perhaps trolls?” he offered, a hand on his weapon. Bhaskara shrugged, though he could sense that whatever lay inside was a bit more grave.
“Come along,” he ordered simply, striding forward into the darkness and leaving the Nord to hurry behind him. They found themselves moving down a winding stone corridor, stumbling over loose stones as they went, until it opened into a spacious underground room. Bhaskara suddenly dropped to a crouch, unsheathing his weapon, and his hireling followed suit, frowning.
“Do you hear--” he began, only to be silenced with a raised hand. The Khajiit's ears were folded back against his head, and his tail was stiff as he listened. Finally, Stenvar could hear a low chanting as well, unfamiliar incantations moving through the air.
“Damn it all,” Bhaskara hissed, “necromancers. No doubt they are looking for the staff as well. This one has fought necromancers before?” He turned back to Stenvar, who shook his head, and rolled his bright eyes. “Of course not. There is nothing else we can do.” He slunk over to a rock that separated the two groups, and then stood up straight, flying forward with a snarl. Stenvar dashed after him, barely missing a blast of lightning that was instantly aimed at him. The two were quick to slash at the group of wizards, and the cave was soon filled with the sound of clanging metal and the shouts of warriors. Somehow, Stenvar noticed a rogue mage behind the action, his hand filled with dark-colored energy. He looked over to see a previously dead wizard rising to its feet again just behind Bhaskara, and raising its dagger just over the Khajiit's head.
“Hey, look out!” he roared, flinging himself the few feet he needed to send his sword through the mage and kill it yet again. Bhaskara turned in surprise, his eyes widening as he registered what had almost just happened, and watched the Nord turn his focus to the last necromancer standing.
In the silence that followed, Stenvar sheathed his bloodstained sword and turned back to his employer, curious to see what he would make of all of it. To his surprise, Bhaskara merely huffed, nodding shortly and looking around the room.
“Bhaskara's staff is not here. Let us keep moving,” he said curtly, gesturing at the next corridor. Stenvar's fists clenched a little as he followed, biting back anything that would get him fired or killed.
I should leave you here to die, cat. He shook his head sullenly, tracing a finger along the hilt of his sword. He was no fool, and he knew saying such a thing would do no wonders. He had a better idea. He would prove the bastard wrong.
"Warmness From Your Presence" 2/?
“A cave, hm? Bandits, perhaps trolls?” he offered, a hand on his weapon. Bhaskara shrugged, though he could sense that whatever lay inside was a bit more grave.
“Come along,” he ordered simply, striding forward into the darkness and leaving the Nord to hurry behind him. They found themselves moving down a winding stone corridor, stumbling over loose stones as they went, until it opened into a spacious underground room. Bhaskara suddenly dropped to a crouch, unsheathing his weapon, and his hireling followed suit, frowning.
“Do you hear--” he began, only to be silenced with a raised hand. The Khajiit's ears were folded back against his head, and his tail was stiff as he listened. Finally, Stenvar could hear a low chanting as well, unfamiliar incantations moving through the air.
“Damn it all,” Bhaskara hissed, “necromancers. No doubt they are looking for the staff as well. This one has fought necromancers before?” He turned back to Stenvar, who shook his head, and rolled his bright eyes. “Of course not. There is nothing else we can do.” He slunk over to a rock that separated the two groups, and then stood up straight, flying forward with a snarl. Stenvar dashed after him, barely missing a blast of lightning that was instantly aimed at him. The two were quick to slash at the group of wizards, and the cave was soon filled with the sound of clanging metal and the shouts of warriors. Somehow, Stenvar noticed a rogue mage behind the action, his hand filled with dark-colored energy. He looked over to see a previously dead wizard rising to its feet again just behind Bhaskara, and raising its dagger just over the Khajiit's head.
“Hey, look out!” he roared, flinging himself the few feet he needed to send his sword through the mage and kill it yet again. Bhaskara turned in surprise, his eyes widening as he registered what had almost just happened, and watched the Nord turn his focus to the last necromancer standing.
In the silence that followed, Stenvar sheathed his bloodstained sword and turned back to his employer, curious to see what he would make of all of it. To his surprise, Bhaskara merely huffed, nodding shortly and looking around the room.
“Bhaskara's staff is not here. Let us keep moving,” he said curtly, gesturing at the next corridor. Stenvar's fists clenched a little as he followed, biting back anything that would get him fired or killed.
I should leave you here to die, cat. He shook his head sullenly, tracing a finger along the hilt of his sword. He was no fool, and he knew saying such a thing would do no wonders. He had a better idea. He would prove the bastard wrong.