Brunwulf struggled to stand against the wave of Draugr bearing down on him. All his instincts told him to flee, to give up, but deep down he knew the only way was forward. He was here to destroy the shrine, and that he would do even if it meant his death. He had come too far to back down, the winding tunnels and traps were hard enough to circumvent on the way in. There was no escape. And yet he pushed on. Something, his spirit or sense of honour, was keeping him from running. There was still life in his body, still strength in his arms.
The Draugr loomed out of the shadows, it’s sword glancing off the thick plates of steel that made up Brunwulf’s armour. Before it could strike again, he had already raised his shield, and deflected the blow. His own blade lashed out, burying itself deep in the unprotected flesh of the Draugr. Brunwulf pulled out his sword, watching as the life seeped from his enemy. Its cold blue eyes dimmed, and it lay still.
The temple in which the shrine was situated had three floors. The entrance, which was lightly guarded by a few cultists and mages, was set high up in the Jerall mountain range, almost inaccessible on foot. Brunwulf had travelled to the base of the mountain by carriage, under the cover of darkness. His Nord blood had protected him from the worst of the cold as he scaled the mountain, fighting off the occasional wolf or bear along the way. He was in the very heart of the sanctuary now, where no mortal had stepped for generations. That only left the Draugr.
Brunwulf stepped through the dark passage into a great chamber, a beam of light spiralling down from far above, illuminating the scene below. The hall itself contained an intricate maze of tunnels and platforms. Draugr walked here in great numbers. They were not here by chance, they were guarding something. And by their numbers, it was clear that it was something of great importance.
There it was, the shrine. Brunwulf’s first impression of it was its sheer size, towering over the Draugr, half hidden by the sinister fog that filled the chamber. And yet, even from afar, it was easy enough to see what it was depicting. A horned figure, human in proportion, cloaked in dark robes which seemed to shift and change in the dim light. This was no ordinary shrine. This was a Daedra.
Dropping down into the ancient stone labyrinth, Brunwulf felt a wave of magical energy wash over him. Whatever was here, it was far more powerful than everything he had faced before. He would have to be careful. Crouching low, Brunwulf began to edge his way through the tunnel, his eyes watchful, on the look out for danger.
He saw the Draugr at same time as it saw him. Immediately his hands reached for his blade, but he was too slow. The Draugr moved with incredible speed, cutting an arc through the air with its sword. Brunwulf felt his strength leave him as he was thrown backwards, smashing into one of the stone pillars. Damn, that noise is gonna attract some attention, he thought, and almost as if on cue, an answering scream from one of the Draugr pierced the still air. From the sound, he could tell it was somewhere near. He drew his dagger, rolling under the Draugr’s swing, and turned to face his enemy.
ZUN HAAL VIIK!
Brunwulf’s shout resonated through the temple, rending the very air before him. He heard the clash of metal on stone as the Draugr’s blade was ripped from its hands. Pulling together the last of his remaining strength, Brunwulf lunged forwards, swinging the dagger downwards. His blow caught the Draugr across the face, sending it reeling backwards. He spun around, building momentum, and unleashed another devastating strike, this one to the chest of the Draugr. Brunwulf jumped onto his foe, not giving it any time to react, and sank the dagger up the hilt in its chestplate.
Now he turned his attention back to the shrine. From where he was, he could see a way up to the base of the statue. He turned and began to walk slowly towards it, ignoring the waves of magic that swept through the room. Now he was high above the tunnels, looking down once more over the Draugr. At the feet of the statue, there was a metal pillar of sorts, styled in the form of a dragon, its maw facing upwards. In the mouth of the dragon, Brunwulf saw it, the source of the energy, something he had only heard about in legends but never thought he would see one for himself.
It was a sigil stone.
Brunwulf finally knew what he had to do. He would die, but he had known from the start that there was no way out of here. His death would bring him honour and glory. His death would take him to Sovngarde.
He smashed the stone.
The effect was instant. The great statue began to crumble as the link between it and the realm of Oblivion was severed. The Draugr turned and ran, unable to stand against the heat that began to fill the room. The whole chamber was burning.
Brunwulf closed his eyes and let the darkness take him.
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So there we go, my first blog post on the site. Let me know what you think in the comments or if you have any suggestions on how can improve my writing style, please let me know. Thanks for reading.
