(Part 4)
He climbs from the den of horror
Sits down, glances at the aurora
Suddenly he hears a whistle
Followed by an arcane missile
He casts a ward, fully awake
The missile hits, the ward does break
The man is onto his back
His assailants continue the attack
He rushes up, a crack is heard
Lightning explodes, his vision is blurred
Drinking a potion he runs
His legs are heavy, like they weigh tonnes
A club from behind, a nasty whack
As he slowly faints the world black.
(Part 5)
He stirs awake, his head is sore
Just moving is a chore
Bleary eyed he looks around
He seems to be underground
Looking again he notices it
And altar, on it pieces of meat
Nothing makes sense, till he sees the shrine
Not just any shrine, one to Hircine.