Slowly she made her way through the tomb, more dead bandits appearing as she travelled and she began to pick up items along the way. There was no sense in leaving some things such as iron maces which could fill the armory or books which could be sold. Chests provided the most help as they sometimes contained a few meagre coins but she was grateful for it all.
Her end came in the form of two iron doors and she opened them, hoping to find a reward but what greeted her was worse. It was unlike any dragur she had come across as this one was powerful and had the voice of a dragon. It knocked her to her feet, its axe shining in its hands and she screamed as she fought for her life. She used up all her magic hitting it, the demon still coming at her and she resorted to running and ducking into a nook, ripping into her bag for potions. It hurt, drinking them down so fast but she couldn’t afford to be slow as her time was limited.
She emerged, hitting it again, using both hands after a time and the demon let out a shout which knocked her back. She collapsed on the bloody steps before a strange wall, her breath coming out ragged as the thing advanced when a wall of fire hit it making it screech.
It crumpled and she was left alone, the tomb quiet save for the fire cascading from jets under the floor. A Nordic trap saved her. She almost began to cry, her fingers shaking as she moved to leave, never wanting to set foot in a tomb again. She staggered past the iron doors on the opposite side, her hands on the wall as she walked like a lame cow and the chest that was illuminated at the end made her breathe in relief. That was what she came for.
She recovered the so called powerful weapon. It was an enchanted iron warhammer, nothing more. She cursed herself and the Nords she had listened to. She could make this item herself! She almost lost her life for it!
She tied it to her bag, shoving whatever else was in the chest with it before slamming the lid down in anger, leaving the tomb through an alternate door. She marched to Winterhold, her hands being shoved under her arms as she did and she entered the small shop when she got there, the woman behind the counter looking up.
“Welcome,” she said but she wouldn’t hear it. She dropped the warhammer on the counter making the poor shopkeeper flinch in shock and she emptied out a part of her bag.
“How much for all of this?!” she asked and the shopkeeper stared at the items almost hungrily. Kjersti put her hand down. “I’m willing to take whatever’s fair!”
The woman picked up a few of the things, studying the boots, a mace and an axe before she touched the enchanted weapon. She took her time to think. “I would say one hundred and fifty septims is fair.”
Kjersti stared. “That warhammer alone is worth over two hundred!”
The shopkeeper gave her a dirty look. “You asked what was fair and I’m giving it to you. No trader in their right mind is going to give you full price for an item! We have families to feed as well! So either you take all this back or you accept the deal!”
She stared hard at the woman, her frustrations over the weapon already making her illogical and she threw her hands up, accepting. She was given her coin and she left, looking up to the dark sky. Her eyes went to the glorious college, a beam of blue light coming from the center and she pursed her lips before she went to the inn, giving the happy innkeeper ten septims before she took to a room.
She wasn’t expecting the vivid nightmares she was plagued with during the night but after a long time of staring at the ceiling, her weary mind piecing together what had happened it made sense. She almost died. It scared her more than anything to think her body could have rotted away, forgotten, in some haunted tomb.
She paid for another night, sleeping intermittently during the day. At least the sounds of people outside helped lull her to sleep. It helped to know she wasn’t alone.
The Hardest Part [12/?]
Her end came in the form of two iron doors and she opened them, hoping to find a reward but what greeted her was worse. It was unlike any dragur she had come across as this one was powerful and had the voice of a dragon. It knocked her to her feet, its axe shining in its hands and she screamed as she fought for her life. She used up all her magic hitting it, the demon still coming at her and she resorted to running and ducking into a nook, ripping into her bag for potions. It hurt, drinking them down so fast but she couldn’t afford to be slow as her time was limited.
She emerged, hitting it again, using both hands after a time and the demon let out a shout which knocked her back. She collapsed on the bloody steps before a strange wall, her breath coming out ragged as the thing advanced when a wall of fire hit it making it screech.
It crumpled and she was left alone, the tomb quiet save for the fire cascading from jets under the floor. A Nordic trap saved her. She almost began to cry, her fingers shaking as she moved to leave, never wanting to set foot in a tomb again. She staggered past the iron doors on the opposite side, her hands on the wall as she walked like a lame cow and the chest that was illuminated at the end made her breathe in relief. That was what she came for.
She recovered the so called powerful weapon. It was an enchanted iron warhammer, nothing more. She cursed herself and the Nords she had listened to. She could make this item herself! She almost lost her life for it!
She tied it to her bag, shoving whatever else was in the chest with it before slamming the lid down in anger, leaving the tomb through an alternate door. She marched to Winterhold, her hands being shoved under her arms as she did and she entered the small shop when she got there, the woman behind the counter looking up.
“Welcome,” she said but she wouldn’t hear it. She dropped the warhammer on the counter making the poor shopkeeper flinch in shock and she emptied out a part of her bag.
“How much for all of this?!” she asked and the shopkeeper stared at the items almost hungrily. Kjersti put her hand down. “I’m willing to take whatever’s fair!”
The woman picked up a few of the things, studying the boots, a mace and an axe before she touched the enchanted weapon. She took her time to think. “I would say one hundred and fifty septims is fair.”
Kjersti stared. “That warhammer alone is worth over two hundred!”
The shopkeeper gave her a dirty look. “You asked what was fair and I’m giving it to you. No trader in their right mind is going to give you full price for an item! We have families to feed as well! So either you take all this back or you accept the deal!”
She stared hard at the woman, her frustrations over the weapon already making her illogical and she threw her hands up, accepting. She was given her coin and she left, looking up to the dark sky. Her eyes went to the glorious college, a beam of blue light coming from the center and she pursed her lips before she went to the inn, giving the happy innkeeper ten septims before she took to a room.
She wasn’t expecting the vivid nightmares she was plagued with during the night but after a long time of staring at the ceiling, her weary mind piecing together what had happened it made sense. She almost died. It scared her more than anything to think her body could have rotted away, forgotten, in some haunted tomb.
She paid for another night, sleeping intermittently during the day. At least the sounds of people outside helped lull her to sleep. It helped to know she wasn’t alone.
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