28th of Hearth Fire, 4E201
Inside Folgunthur, Nephili stood before a giant wheel of stone, a last obstacle before the final chamber. An unusual keyhole in the shape of a depressed claw sat at its very center and surrounding it were three concentric rings, carved with ancient symbols. The obstacle had been unexpected; but as it so happened, the adventurers who had entered before her had been in possession of the key. The journal she had found in the abandoned camp had said as much, and reading it had given her a great fright. Killing draugr was one thing, but killing the living who might have taken what she needed had chilled her resolve. Doing so would have placed her at a bridge that she didn't want to cross. To her relief and her self loathing, they had all been found dead, killed by the cursed denizens who guarded the deep.
The mage Adept looked back to make sure that the six that had risen to guard this room were still on the floor. She caught a glimpse of Lydia. The warrior had stayed well back from the Breton, unwilling to lift a finger and seething with turmoil. Had Nephili not been so focused on the skirmishes she had fought and the battle to come, she would have suffocated in guilt at her presence. After everything she had said, the housecarl had still followed her Thane, though she did so in a kind of paralysis. But, unbeknownst to the girl from Cyrodiil, the once orphan of Skyrim had been fighting her own battle, a silent contest between her instincts and the reality that did not match. Nephili, breathing a last ragged breath, braced herself and inserted the key into the center of the wheel.
"My Thane..."
Nephili turned to the Nord but could only see her silhouette in the dark. "Lydia..."
The circular door suddenly screached in pain as it rumbled to life. Hidden pins eased out of their slots and allowed the massive construct to slide down into the floor. Ancient air blew dust into the room causing both women to cough as they were hit by the irritating plume. Walking over the threshold, Nephili turned a corner and found herself facing into a dark, cavernous chamber of a magnificient size. Tall pillars split the room into three aisles and supported the ceiling. Presently, the darkness grew a little brighter as enchanted braziers lit themselves on fire, casting feeble shadows on walls that had not seen light in over four millenia. This place sensed it had been disturbed and ancient magics, gnarled by time began to stir.
Nephili calmly walked towards the center of the subterranean deep. She cast her most powerful magics to shield her skin and then cover it in flames. A moment later, she popped her first familiar.
"My Thane."
The Breton closed her eye's as she focused to regain her composure. Please Lydia, don't say anymore...
The Adept reached into her pouch and drank a specially prepared potion of taproot, firesalts and moon sugar and waited for its affects to take hold.
Near the back of the chamber, an ornate sarcophagus sat elevated upon a broad dais. It began to creak as age long seals weakened in the presence of trespassers. The heavy iron lid exploded into the air, the seals finally broken under the duress. Leathery bones reached up to grab the rim, pulling up the body of a powerful, four-thousand two hundred year old draugr. Mikrul Gauldurson sat up in his coffin, unleashed from Lord Geirmund's binds, the once Archmage of Windhelm and battlemage for the thirteenth king in the line of Ysgramor, a High King at the dawn of recorded history.
The Breton mage commanded her familiar to batter the cursed ancient with Firebolts as she lay a rune before his sarcophagus. After hurling her remaining magics at the rising monster, she reached into her satchel to drink a magicka draught to fuel a massive, dual-cast Fireball which she hurled at Mikrul just as he stepped out of his coffin and onto her rune.
A stupendous explosion engulfed the cursed ancient.
The light illuminated the entire chamber, revealing the presence of several draugr thralls who had escaped their coffins just as their master had done. The young mage immediately redirected her familiar to attack the nearest one. Guzzling down a second magicka potion, she placed another rune in the demon's path and continued her rain of fire.
Despite the monstrous explosion and the subsequent attacks, Mikrul Gauldurson did not fall nor even stumble. Instead, it gained speed as it approached its nearest target. With blade in his hand, the undead Nord unleashed a great swing at the body of his first enemy. The familiar crashed into the ground under the great force. It tried for one more attack but was rended open by his next swing. A few more stone coffins exploded as Mikrul commanded several more thralls to awaken.
A new familiar popped out of Oblivion, this time a giant daedra of ice and brute strength. Fully drained by this new spell, Nephili swallowed another of the specially prepared brew and began to back away towards the entrance. The powerful elemental daedra pounded its icy fist into the enraged Mikrul as the mage Adept waited impatiently for her magicka to regenerate.
Lydia could no longer ignore her Thane's fight, having failed to stop her in the end. She searched the room for loose targets with her bow and picked off several draugr thralls to the Breton's left before directly engaging the ones approaching from the right. Anger and frustration fueled her battlecry as she rushed headlong into the enemy. She danced and whirled, each slash a proxy for the fight within. The lesser draugr tried to dance in turn, their eyes lit with mindless abandon, eager to see their weapons bite flesh once more. One would fall, another would parry. She would cut, backed away and cut once more.
The Adept threw several Firebolts into the field of enemies surrounding the Nord and then hurled the rest of her power at their master. Her familiar was losing its fight as the cursed ancient gained footing, power, speed and rythmn against the Frost Atronach. She reached into her pouch to drink several more magicka potions and grimaced at the bitter concoctions. The Adept made ready with another conjuration spell and cast her magics just as Mikrul destroyed the daedra.
This time, the son of Gauldur focused on the Breton. At the monster's approach, Nephili ran around the confusion of lesser draugr fighting Lydia and sprinted towards Mikrul's sarcophagus. She circled the coffin as the draugr lord approached. The young mage threw a few Firebolts at him as he suddenly sped up to slash at his prey. Tripping backwards at the sudden rush, the mage fell on her back as she willed her familiar to come in and respond in kind. Mikrul swung at her legs before being pushed back by the giant monster of ice. The draugr lord screamed in frustration. The remaining coffins broke open and now a veritable army focused on the mage.
"My Thane! Behind you!"
Nephili used the remains of her magicka to plant a Fire Rune before the rushing enemies and rolled back onto her feet. The rune exploded under one and caught several others in its blast. She ran for Lydia as the warrior assessed the approaching wave of final combatants. Mikrul Gauldurson cut down the Frost Atronach and barked in triumph.
"Julianos damn him! Run! We can pick them off in the hallways!"
The two ran out of the great room and into the antechamber. Nephili forced down several more bitter potions and conjured a third Frost Atronach just before the round entrance. Reaching into her pouch, she could feel a half dozen more magicka vials and a few more of the special brew.
The first wave rounded the last corner and dove headlong into her familiar. The two nedes flung arrows and Firebolts at the undead while the icy daedra pounded them in the doorway. Mikrul approached from behind as his remaining minions gathered around him.
Unable to target the draugr lord, Nephili directed the atronach to pound the ancient monster allowing others to get past. Three of his army approached the two women, forcing the warrior to re-engage with her blade. The mage flung her Firebolts into one of them to even the odds for the housecarl.
Forcing down another two potions, she called out to Lydia, "Back up through the doorway behind us!"
Nephili prepared her next spell. The frost atronach fell under Mikrul's might, unleashing his warriors at the intruders. Flinging her magic, the Adept set up the same trap at the next bottleneck and drank several more potions to replenish her magicka. This time she nearly doubled over to wretch the elixirs out of her stomache. Her body was finally beginning to reject the forced stimulation.
Stendarr's mercy!
Beyond this doorway, the floor sank to its lowest point and was covered in seepage. The warrior worked to thin out the remaining herd of thralls while the mage waited for her magicka to replenish. She continued to fling Firebolts at Mikrul whenever the opportunity presented itself. Planting another Fire Rune behind her Atronach, the Breton began walking to the end of the hallway. Lydia finished slaying her two enemies and followed after the mage. Only a handful of draugr and Mikrul remained.
The two entered a stairwell and ran up the steps. Behind them, they could hear the rune trap trigger under the draugr lords feet. The cursed ancient charged in still on fire and tumbled up the stairs after his prey, impatience finally showing in the monster's attitude.
"Lydia, stand ready!"
The Nord cleared the stairwell and turned around, sword and shield at the ready. Nephili ran over to a lever and placed her hand on the switch. The draugr lord made his last turn and bounded up the final dozen steps, his sword at the ready. The mage pulled the lever, causing two sections of a metal grate to slide out and close over the stairwell, trapping the powerful draugr at the waist. Mikrul screamed his fury and wildly swung his blade.
Nephili conjured another flame atronach and pounded the cursed ancient with everything she had. Lydia backed away to draw her bow and followed suit.
The battle was theirs.
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"Get to da choppa..."
Comments
Hmmm....