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Description
Buliwyf had about decided the Seer was possessed, maybe with two or three spirits. The motherly woman that fed, served, and entertained an entire family was nothing like the preoccupied Seer wanting to get everything just so was nothing like the quiet, stalking, hunter pacing noiselessly beside him. She spotted bandits (or already knew) in the tower leading up to the barrow. She held them back, pointed the spotters out to Faendal, and then helped take care of archers while Buliwyf chopped his way through the melee fighters. He noticed more than a few had her arrows in them before they got to him. He had to smile at that, maybe a little of the mother hen was still in there.

The bandits outside the barrow were a little more surprising. She knew they were there, but was hard pressed to spot them in the blowing snow the winds stirred up around them. Still, she didn't hold back, and tried to help, even in the wind. He didn't understand half of what she said as more than one arrow blew off course, but tone left no doubt it wasn't complimentary. Finally, they entered the barrow itself, and all of them heaved a thankful sigh to be out of the biting winds and blinding snow.

Bri watched the bandits in the first chamber of Bleak Falls, sometimes expecting to see the screen edges, it was so uncannily familiar. She lowered her voice to less than a whisper, carrying only to the two with her. "Okay, there's two by the fire, and some others further in. Faendal, if you take the tall one there, I'll try to snipe the one on the far side of the fire." Faendal didn't say anything, but nodded and moved into position. He held his shot until she had hers lined up. His target fell on the first arrow. It took her three shots before her bandit fell. They moved in, gathered arrows, and she checked the chest. She took a few smaller items she knew Lucan would give her a decent price, and passed on the bulky ones she simply didn't want to have to carry.

She took point, walking the path a little awestruck. She never thought she'd actually step foot here. The air carried earthy scents from the roots invading the tomb, mold and decay, and the must of air long trapped. She walked as quietly as she could, but there was no muffling the heavier steps of Buliwyf, and they echoed faintly off the crumbling walls. Being here gave her pins and needles. It was long familiar, and brand new at the same time. She was so lost in the experience, she almost walked straight into the darts filling the puzzle room chamber. Thank God for her guys, because each one grabbed an arm to pull her back from a painful death.

"Sorry darlins. Got lost in my own head there for a moment. Very weird actually walking a place for the first time that you've seen so many times."

"Perhaps that's why Jarl Ulfric insisted on sending me with you." Buliwyf dared tease. He was slowly losing his awe of her. Bri beamed at him. It had bothered her no little bit that he acted so stilted and proper around her. Part of it, she thought, came from that whole 'housecarl' mentality and partly because he seemed terrified of her. She had waged a silent campaign to change that, treating him like family and downplaying the whole seer thing. Small signs like this made her feel victorious.

"Well, I'm safe, the bandit's dead, and can you guess what Mr. Pincushion did wrong?" Bri stepped into the room, and looked expectantly at her two companions.

"I'm guessing it has something to do with these pillars over here..." Faendal idly turned one, looking at all three faces.

"And those pictures up there, and the one on the ground, now." Buliwyf amended as he spotted the fallen snake placard.

"Yup, turn the pillars to match those animals, and we can pull the lever safely. Ready to roll? Get ready to play with the biggest frostbite spider you ever saw."

Buliwyf saw immediately she wasn't kidding. Descending from the ceiling was a nightmare worthy enough to be Sheogorath and Vaermina's lovechild. The hysterical rantings were nothing more than background noise as he dove away from the lunging spider's fangs. One strike from those massive spears, and he'd be impaled. He didn't want to think about the amount of poison it could pump out with just one jab. Thankfully, someone had already taken out some of the monstrosity's legs. If it were this fast now, how fast would it have been at full strength?

Buliwyf spun away from the spider, a fang ripping through his surcoat, leaving a trail of green venom in its wake. Some seeped through the chain, freeze burning the skin beneath. He grimaced as he finally scored a hit on the thing, slicing off a fang with his battle axe. One down, one to go. Faendal and Bri had not been idle. It looked more like a porcupine now, than it did a spider, and still it fought. Buliwyf was growing concerned. He honestly didn't know how long he could stay apace with the beast.

Faendal was growing frustrated. Usually, he could pick his shots, but with this thing, he was lucky to strike at all. From the inventive invectives coming from his right, Bri was having even less luck than he was. One good head shot, and the fight would be over, Faendal sent up a silent prayer. Twin arrows flew, and both buried themselves to the fletching in the things eye cluster.

"Thank you Kyne and Kynareth!"

“Aren't they one and the same?” Faendal, dast him, had already recovered his usual aplomb. She could hit him, so she did. Bloody elf then had the temerity to chuckle at her.

“Depends on who you ask, and I ain't that brave.” Bri stepped delicately around the giant spider carcass, and addressed the distressed Dunmer hanging before her in the spider’s web.

"Hello Arvel the Swift. Now, here's the biggest question of your life: are you Arvel the Smart, as well?"

"What's that?" Distrust was part and parcel of the Dunmeri ego, but Bri believed Arvel might just have abused the priviledge.

"Look, son, this can play out one of two ways: you try your usual running schtick, and I watch you die to the draugr in the next room or the spiked gate, or, just this once, you play straight with me, and you actually live to see the outside of this dungeon.”

“and why should I believe you?” Bri rolled her eyes, and wondered if maybe a more fitting moniker was “Arvel the Thick”.

“She's a Divines touched seer, you clod, mind your tongue!” Bri touched Buliwyf 's arm, a soothing gesture that seemed to work, surprisingly. He really did take this housecarl thing seriously. It was also past obvious he didn't trust Arvel as far as he could throw him. Scratch that, Buliwyf could probably throw the slight Dunmer quite a ways. Buliwyf was a really, really big boy. She turned her attention back to the trapped thief.

“Ask yourself how I know your name, or how I know you have a journal, how I know exactly what you were about to do once I cut you down, or how I know the golden claw you carry gives the clue to open the inner chamber?”

“Leave him! There's no promise he can make you can trust!” Bri had to admit Buliwyf’s suggestion had merit. They still had quite a few Draugr to fight through, and the last thing they needed to worry about was a dagger in the back. Right now, a few words of wisdom from a higher power wouldn’t have hurt her feelings at all. Well Aedra? Bri thought, I’m listening.

She saw a glint of gold, and deftly cut the claw free. A distressed yelp escaped the Dunmer's best efforts at stoicism.

“Well, Arvel? What’ll it be? Do I leave you hanging there, or are you gonna be a good boy?”

“Alright! Alright! I'll follow you. Just, cut me down now.” Bri doubted Arvel could have sounded any more like a sullen little boy. She had to bite her lip to keep from laughing at him. She concentrated on cutting him down, so he couldn’t see her face. Honestly, who’s idea was it to give an already temperamental race redheads?

Description
Buliwyf had about decided the Seer was possessed, maybe with two or three spirits. The motherly woman that fed, served, and entertained an entire family was nothing like the preoccupied Seer wanting to get everything just so was nothing like the quiet, stalking, hunter pacing noiselessly beside him. She spotted bandits (or already knew) in the tower leading up to the barrow. She held them back, pointed the spotters out to Faendal, and then helped take care of archers while Buliwyf chopped his way through the melee fighters. He noticed more than a few had her arrows in them before they got to him. He had to smile at that, maybe a little of the mother hen was still in there.

The bandits outside the barrow were a little more surprising. She knew they were there, but was hard pressed to spot them in the blowing snow the winds stirred up around them. Still, she didn't hold back, and tried to help, even in the wind. He didn't understand half of what she said as more than one arrow blew off course, but tone left no doubt it wasn't complimentary. Finally, they entered the barrow itself, and all of them heaved a thankful sigh to be out of the biting winds and blinding snow.

Bri watched the bandits in the first chamber of Bleak Falls, sometimes expecting to see the screen edges, it was so uncannily familiar. She lowered her voice to less than a whisper, carrying only to the two with her. "Okay, there's two by the fire, and some others further in. Faendal, if you take the tall one there, I'll try to snipe the one on the far side of the fire." Faendal didn't say anything, but nodded and moved into position. He held his shot until she had hers lined up. His target fell on the first arrow. It took her three shots before her bandit fell. They moved in, gathered arrows, and she checked the chest. She took a few smaller items she knew Lucan would give her a decent price, and passed on the bulky ones she simply didn't want to have to carry.

She took point, walking the path a little awestruck. She never thought she'd actually step foot here. The air carried earthy scents from the roots invading the tomb, mold and decay, and the must of air long trapped. She walked as quietly as she could, but there was no muffling the heavier steps of Buliwyf, and they echoed faintly off the crumbling walls. Being here gave her pins and needles. It was long familiar, and brand new at the same time. She was so lost in the experience, she almost walked straight into the darts filling the puzzle room chamber. Thank God for her guys, because each one grabbed an arm to pull her back from a painful death.

"Sorry darlins. Got lost in my own head there for a moment. Very weird actually walking a place for the first time that you've seen so many times."

"Perhaps that's why Jarl Ulfric insisted on sending me with you." Buliwyf dared tease. He was slowly losing his awe of her. Bri beamed at him. It had bothered her no little bit that he acted so stilted and proper around her. Part of it, she thought, came from that whole 'housecarl' mentality and partly because he seemed terrified of her. She had waged a silent campaign to change that, treating him like family and downplaying the whole seer thing. Small signs like this made her feel victorious.

"Well, I'm safe, the bandit's dead, and can you guess what Mr. Pincushion did wrong?" Bri stepped into the room, and looked expectantly at her two companions.

"I'm guessing it has something to do with these pillars over here..." Faendal idly turned one, looking at all three faces.

"And those pictures up there, and the one on the ground, now." Buliwyf amended as he spotted the fallen snake placard.

"Yup, turn the pillars to match those animals, and we can pull the lever safely. Ready to roll? Get ready to play with the biggest frostbite spider you ever saw."

Buliwyf saw immediately she wasn't kidding. Descending from the ceiling was a nightmare worthy enough to be Sheogorath and Vaermina's lovechild. The hysterical rantings were nothing more than background noise as he dove away from the lunging spider's fangs. One strike from those massive spears, and he'd be impaled. He didn't want to think about the amount of poison it could pump out with just one jab. Thankfully, someone had already taken out some of the monstrosity's legs. If it were this fast now, how fast would it have been at full strength?

Buliwyf spun away from the spider, a fang ripping through his surcoat, leaving a trail of green venom in its wake. Some seeped through the chain, freeze burning the skin beneath. He grimaced as he finally scored a hit on the thing, slicing off a fang with his battle axe. One down, one to go. Faendal and Bri had not been idle. It looked more like a porcupine now, than it did a spider, and still it fought. Buliwyf was growing concerned. He honestly didn't know how long he could stay apace with the beast.

Faendal was growing frustrated. Usually, he could pick his shots, but with this thing, he was lucky to strike at all. From the inventive invectives coming from his right, Bri was having even less luck than he was. One good head shot, and the fight would be over, Faendal sent up a silent prayer. Twin arrows flew, and both buried themselves to the fletching in the things eye cluster.

"Thank you Kyne and Kynareth!"

“Aren't they one and the same?” Faendal, dast him, had already recovered his usual aplomb. She could hit him, so she did. Bloody elf then had the temerity to chuckle at her.

“Depends on who you ask, and I ain't that brave.” Bri stepped delicately around the giant spider carcass, and addressed the distressed Dunmer hanging before her in the spider’s web.

"Hello Arvel the Swift. Now, here's the biggest question of your life: are you Arvel the Smart, as well?"

"What's that?" Distrust was part and parcel of the Dunmeri ego, but Bri believed Arvel might just have abused the priviledge.

"Look, son, this can play out one of two ways: you try your usual running schtick, and I watch you die to the draugr in the next room or the spiked gate, or, just this once, you play straight with me, and you actually live to see the outside of this dungeon.”

“and why should I believe you?” Bri rolled her eyes, and wondered if maybe a more fitting moniker was “Arvel the Thick”.

“She's a Divines touched seer, you clod, mind your tongue!” Bri touched Buliwyf 's arm, a soothing gesture that seemed to work, surprisingly. He really did take this housecarl thing seriously. It was also past obvious he didn't trust Arvel as far as he could throw him. Scratch that, Buliwyf could probably throw the slight Dunmer quite a ways. Buliwyf was a really, really big boy. She turned her attention back to the trapped thief.

“Ask yourself how I know your name, or how I know you have a journal, how I know exactly what you were about to do once I cut you down, or how I know the golden claw you carry gives the clue to open the inner chamber?”

“Leave him! There's no promise he can make you can trust!” Bri had to admit Buliwyf’s suggestion had merit. They still had quite a few Draugr to fight through, and the last thing they needed to worry about was a dagger in the back. Right now, a few words of wisdom from a higher power wouldn’t have hurt her feelings at all. Well Aedra? Bri thought, I’m listening.

She saw a glint of gold, and deftly cut the claw free. A distressed yelp escaped the Dunmer's best efforts at stoicism.

“Well, Arvel? What’ll it be? Do I leave you hanging there, or are you gonna be a good boy?”

“Alright! Alright! I'll follow you. Just, cut me down now.” Bri doubted Arvel could have sounded any more like a sullen little boy. She had to bite her lip to keep from laughing at him. She concentrated on cutting him down, so he couldn’t see her face. Honestly, who’s idea was it to give an already temperamental race redheads?