so i wrote a skyrim thing

[oddi]

Ok so i wrote this thing for school. it's a Skyrim AU, since at the time i didn't get a chance to play through Bleak Falls Barrow and re-learn the layout of the place. hope it's worth your while~

Mead. It wasn’t Xiracoatl’s favorite beverage, but it was what all of the inns were selling these days. At least, it was all she could afford. She would steal from the Emperor himself just to get some decent wine. She sipped the sweet amber liquid slowly, wincing at the flavor. She was not a fan of Honningbrew--too sweet, too much alcohol, but she couldn’t complain. It would quench her thirst, even if it made her nauseous in the process. It would have been nice to have the Black Briar mead from the Rift, maybe even finish a bottle or two. What a shame that it had to be so damned expensive. Xira sighed and put her bottle down to give her stomach a moment of relief. She listened to the quiet hum-drum of the inn--Orgnar cleaning out tankards with an overused washrag, Delphine working quietly at the alchemy lab, the quiet crackling of the open fire in the middle of the tavern...the bard, Sven, had paused to eat his supper, leaving the inn to silence.
There was also a room available for rent, and Xira couldn’t help but envy those who had enough gold to do so. She fingered her coin purse thoughtfully,  sorting out each individual coin through the leather. Nine gold coins-- hardly enough for a meal, and only one septim away from that wonderful bed... The Khajiit sighed. Perhaps it was worth joining the Thieves’ guild, just to use their fences. She had so much loot to sell--most of it was just little trinkets she knew she could get away with. Like any good thief, she didn’t dare try to sell her goods to any ‘honorable’ merchants who would just as soon rat her out for carrying stolen goods. If she didn’t hit the jackpot soon, she might have to start trying. She sighed and took another sip of her mead.
The door to the inn suddenly swung open, and a tailed figure in heavy steel armor stepped into the firelight. There was a rustling as it took off its steel helmet, revealing a brown-furred female cat. She didn’t appear to be from any caravan Xira knew. Another Khajiit? Here in Skyrim?
Xira had only seen a few other Khajiit before; she had been born and raised in Skyrim, with no knowledge of her race’s homeland. Meeting others of her kind was something of a treat, especially others as beautiful as this. The stranger’s face was sleek and feminine, with striped markings on her cheeks and forehead. She had markings reminiscent of wild jungle cats. Her steel armor clung to her figure and enunciated her curves. It left her strong, lithe arms bare. A small satchel hung from the stranger’s belt, containing who-knew-what. Xira was entranced. Her pulse quickened and her fur tingled. Something about this stranger...whatever it was, she wanted to know her better.
“Welcome to the Sleeping Giant Inn,” Orgnar said from across the room. “We’ve got good food and warm beds.”
The other Khajiit simply nodded. “I am just here for rest. I’ll be gone by morning.”
Xira couldn’t help it--her curiosity had been piqued. “Where are you headed?”
The stranger startled. She hadn’t seen the other Khajiit in the shadows. “What is it to you?”
“Just curious is all.”
This seemed to sate the newcomer. “Bleak Falls Barrow--getting paid a hefty sum for it.”
“Why there?” Xira sipped nonchalantly from her mead again. She was definitely familiar with the Barrow; freezing Nordic ruins resting just below the peak of a small mountain. “I mean, there can’t be much up there, right? Except draugr and skeletons.”
“All these questions, one might think you’re up to something.” The stranger’s eyes narrowed--hers were bright green, the greenest Xira had ever seen. There was something enchanting about them.
“Up to something? Maybe,” Xira smiled. “Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to have a companion on this little adventure.”
At first this new Khajiit seemed annoyed at the suggestion. A look of consideration passed over her face, however. Hope flared up in Xira’s chest. This was a chance to make some coin--good, real coin to prove that she was more than just a thief, but an adventurer. The stranger gave a meek little smile and walked over to sit beside Xira on the bench.
“My name is Rajan,” she said, lounging against the table. “What can you offer in a fight?”
“Rajan, I like that. In a fight?” Xira replied. “I’m good. Very good. Lockpicking? Stealth? Even better. Unlike most adventurers I’ll find a trap before I walk into it.”
“Oh, don’t sugar-coat it like a sweet roll,” Orgnar interjected. “Xiracoatl is a thief--but a damned good one.”
Rajan looked Xira over once again, this time with a spark of distrust. “You’re a thief? With the Guild?”
“No, freelance.”
“What good is a thief who cannot sell her goods?”
“I’m on my way to Riften now,” Xira lied--well, half lied. She was on her way just east to her parents’ farm before heading to the Rift. “And you heard Orgnar--I’m a good thief.”
The innkeeper chuckled. “The only reason we keep catching her is because we watched her grow up into the fine young woman she is. We know what to expect.”
Rajan’s whiskers twitched and her ears flicked back. “You do not sound like a good thief.”
“Give me a chance,” Xira said. “I will surprise you.”
“What is your name, amateur?” she said with a sigh.
“I’m called Xiracoatl. Xira for short.” And I’m no amateur, she thought.
There was a long pause. “I will take you, but you will not get your money until afterwards. Even then--if you are dead or if your performance was not admirable, you will not get a cut.”
“Worse things have happened. So what’s the job?” Xira leaned forward, eager to hear about this new job.
“It is very important. The court wizard of Whiterun sent me to retrieve an artifact from the Barrow.”
“What’s the artifact?”
“It is related to dragons,” Rajan turned away from Xira for a moment to wave at Orgnar. She pointed at Xira’s mead bottle, then at herself. “That’s all I’m willing to say. I don’t yet know if I can trust you, Xiracoatl.”
The young thief sighed. That was the downside to stealing for a living--no one trusted you. It didn’t matter how interested in them you were. They were always convinced you were out for gold and little else. At times this could be frustrating. Xira sensed it would be a distinct problem in their relationship...if it ever came to that. Wait, relationships? How had her mind made that leap?
Orgnar walked up to Rajan and handed her an uncorked mead bottle. She dug into the coin purse tied to her hip; it clattered noisily. This new Khajiit certainly had plenty of coin and Xira couldn’t help but twitch her whiskers. Rajan glanced at her through narrowed eyes. Xira’s pale silver fur burned hot in embarrassment.
“Sorry. It’s an attraction to shiny things.”
“Is that so?” Xira thought she could see a glint of amusement  in Rajan’s green eyes.
“Attraction can be resisted,” she replied simply. I think I’m doing pretty well in your presence…
“Right.” the other khajiit uncorked her mead and took a long swig from the bottle. Xira almost thought she’d down the stuff in one sitting. “Have you rented a room here?”
Lie. “I’m a coin short.” Damn it.
“Perhaps you could have waited on the mead,” Rajan remarked. “Then you’d have a place to sleep.”
“I’ve been riding for many days. I was thirsty.” Xira said.
This was partly true. She’d given ten gold pieces to beggars in Whiterun. Before Whiterun she’d been in Solitude, where she had given another ten gold pieces to Noster One-Eye, a veteran from the great war who had somehow ended up homeless. Who was to say thieves only took and never gave?
“That horse outside is yours then?” Rajan placed her mead on the table.
“He is. I’ve had him for a year; his name is Alton,” Xira smiled. She couldn’t help it--she had bought this horse with her own money and it made her so proud.
“Interesting. A Nord’s name,” It wasn’t really a question. It was more of a statement, the kind of thing one didn’t answer.
“Yeah. I was hoping to make a stop at my parents’ farm before we go. If you don’t mind,” Xira checked her own tone. She didn’t like to beg, but she was very determined to see how they were doing. A lot could happen in a year…
“How far?” Rajan’s voice was brisk. Didn’t she wonder what would drive Khajiit to settle in the cold, hard lands of Skyrim?
“If Alton walked, it’d be about two hours to get there.” she answered.
Rajan grunted. “Fine. Eventually. Perhaps after Bleak Falls Barrow, not before. Also, before I forget,” the striped Khajiit said suddenly, reaching into her coin purse. “You will need coin if you want to sleep in a bed and not those bedrolls outside.” Rajan dropped a small pile of septims onto the table. Xira counted eleven--ten more than she needed?
“Whoa, thank you...but, are you sure?” she glanced up eagerly. “You don’t need this?”
“You’re a thief. Don’t pretend to be grateful,” Rajan picked up her mead bottle and headed toward Orgnar to rent a room.
Except I’m not pretending! I meant it.

[oddi]

Dawn the next morning was bleak and cold. It was Skyrim’s summer chill that set in during the night, chillier than usual. It was the crisp kind of cold that froze you to the bone, no matter how many layers you wore. Xira couldn’t help but be grateful that she hadn’t opted to sleep outdoors last night. Her stomach fluttered as she prepared Alton for the ride to the Barrow, but it had nothing to do with the cold. The excitement of seeing her family soon had her warmed from the core. And it wasn’t just that.
“Do you remember Dovak?” She asked Alton as she swiped the brush along his flank to clear away the dirt.
The horse didn’t answer. Not like he could.
Xira went on. “I bet he missed having company in that stall of his. Probably didn’t like sharing that barn with a cow. I can’t think of anyone who would, really. Cows smell gross.”
The habit of talking to horses wasn’t unusual to her at all. She had grown up doing it. Being an unruly child, she was often sent to the barn to do extra chores. It wasn’t uncommon for her to complain to the family horse. At times he was the only one willing to listen. Xira’s parents did their best to make her happy, but they wanted her to stay on the farm. Her spirit was far too wild for that.
“Oh, and I bet Mykahla will be thrilled to hear all of my stories! All of the adventures we’ve been on--and will be on! Mum and Da won’t be quite as pleased, though.” she sighed. “I wish they would have let me go out on my own. I hated running off like I did...I wonder if they’ll forgive me?”
The question went unanswered once more. Xira sighed again and put the brush back into one of Alton’s saddlebags. Part of her knew this reunion would end bittersweet.
“Who’ll forgive you?” a now-familiar voice appeared out of nowhere behind Xira. She whipped around to find Rajan standing there, all of her weight on one foot. Her arms were crossed. Xira thought her heart would never slow down.
“Uh...it’s a family thing.” Xira said quickly. She glanced at the knapsack slung over Rajan’s back. “Supplies?”
“Food mostly.” A cat of few words. “Some poisons.”
“If you want, Alton can carry that.”
“I’ve got it.”
Memories of family, mostly her sister Mykahla, flowed back. Xira remembered the race to get to Dovak two mornings a year--whoever got to him last had to carry a knapsack laden with the family’s harvest. It was usually Xira. She had complained, but she didn’t mind, really. Even when her legs were sore and tired she didn’t mind. She was stronger than Mykahla, and seeing the slim she-cat staggering behind under the weight of vegetables made her stomach hurt. She’d rather carry the burden.
“Are you sure?” Xira asked. She decided not to relay these personal memories to her newfound companion.
Rajan looked briefly thoughtful. “He can take it on the way back, I suppose.”
Xira tried a new tactic. “Do you want to ride? I can walk.”
Another moment of thought. “I suppose I can for the first hour or two.”
It wasn’t long before they were on the road. The whole trip was silent, almost awkwardly so. They passed the road that lead to her parents’ farm. So close, but Xira supposed she could wait. Part of her longed for the days when she and her sister would go to Riverwood to sell their harvest. The other part reminded her, of course, that that hadn’t been the life she could possibly have lead, knowing adventure was out there. With each step her excitement grew--as did her anxiety. What if her parents didn’t care about her anymore? What if they hated her now? The note she left had been so vague…
It must have shown because Rajan’s voice interrupted her thoughts. Not that she minded. “You look nervous.”
“I’m not nervous,” Xira replied indignantly.
“Your tail is bushed out. It has been for fifteen minutes.” Rajan’s tone was flat. “Well, bushed out more than what seems to be normal.”
She glanced backwards at her traitorous tail. It was bushed out more than usual, just as Rajan had said. Now frustrated at her tail, Xira decided to lie. “I’m excited. I haven’t seen my family in over a year.”
“Did you get letters?” Rajan asked. Was she really interested, or was she being polite?
“Yes, but it took awhile for the couriers to find me. I travel a lot. They stopped coming after four months. I think the couriers just gave up.” Xira sighed.
“Perhaps they thought you didn’t care?” Rajan said. “Or maybe something...happened?”
That was a new possibility. It made Xira’s stomach drop. Her family had always been set into her life like stone; the idea that something could shatter that stone had never occurred to her. A new kind of worry settled over her, much worse than before.
“You didn’t think something like that could happen, did you?” Rajan asked after a moment.
“I didn’t,” Xira admitted. “If we’re being honest, I wasn’t even sure I’d be welcome there after running off the way I did. I would rather that than have something terrible happen to them, though...”
“You ran off?” Rajan’s tone was indiscernible. “Why on earth would you do that?”
Xiracoatl sighed. How could she make this stranger understand? “My mum and da kept me on a tight leash. I needed space.”
“Running off sounds a bit more than just ‘needing space’.”
“I don’t know. I wanted to explore.”
The only sound that broke the following silence was the gentle clip-clopping of Alton’s hooves against the stone bricked road. Xira couldn’t help but wish her new companion was more talkative. Anything to get her mind off of her anxiety. They walked on for nearly an hour until Rajan asked Alton to halt. By this time Xira had started to feel frustration with herself encroaching on her thoughts. The horse tossed his head but stopped walking; he seemed to like travel as much as Xira did.
“We should walk him up this slope. It’s going to get slick with snow soon,” she said as she haphazardly slid off the horse. Alton snorted and sidestepped to keep his balance. Xira only nodded. She held out her hand for the reins, then lowered it when she realized Rajan didn’t move to give them to her. They continued walking up the hill.
“So...what about you, mysterious stranger roaming the wilds of Skyrim?” the silver-furred Khajiit cast a sidelong glance at her companion.
Rajan was silent for awhile, so long that Xira thought she wouldn’t answer. Then, “I came to Skyrim seeking knowledge. The College of Winterhold up North? I have always liked magic. It fascinates and sometimes alters the mind. The College turned me down.”
Xira listened intently. “Why?”
“Their reasons are their own,” Rajan said curtly. “There was nothing dragging me back to Elsweyr. So I stayed. Skyrim has a wealth of ruins to explore. I am good enough with a sword to fight off the draugr to get to the treasures within.”
When her companion finished, Xira couldn’t help but feel bad for her. It was known that the College often refused Khajiit, though nobody knew for certain why they did so. The cat-folk of Elsweyr weren’t known for supreme magical abilities, like, say, the Altmer. Perhaps the mages thought it wasn’t worth teaching someone without the natural talent. That would explain a lot. The two walked in silence for awhile, the only sound being Alton’s hooves on the stony dirt path. The air grew colder as they approached the Barrow; a huge, looming stone structure near the top of the mountain. Snowflakes had begun to swirl down from the sky, catching in their fur.
“I read once that this place is a temple to dragons,” Xira murmured more to herself than to Rajan. The other cat only sighed heavily.
The two Khajiits and the horse came over a ridge to a flat plateau-like area. Here the trees were sparse; it was mostly boulders and jagged stone. Bleak Falls Barrow stretched out in front of them, just a few hundred yards away. Xira couldn’t keep her eyes off it. It looked so small from a distance… The stone arches placed in front of the temple were enormous. There was a distant shouting. It sounded muffled almost by the falling snow. Xira glanced over Alton to see if Rajan had heard. She only walked on. The horse’s ears twitched, however. He heard it too. Xira listened again. Definitely shouting, coming from the Barrow.
“Someone’s up there.”
“What?”
“Someone’s at the Barrow. I hear shouting.”
“Are you certain?” Rajan’s ears twitched. “I don’t hear anything.”
“It’s there. Here, hold on to Alton. I’ll scout ahead.” Xira didn’t give Rajan a chance to argue.

[oddi]

She trotted ahead, leaving the horse and brown-furred Khajiit behind. The shouting grew louder and clearer as she approached the enormous stone ruins. The closer she came, the thinner the veil of snowflakes grew. She could see the entrance to the temple clearly now. It was built into the mountain. Humanoid shapes stood just outside the doors. They were speaking.
The first voice was deep, masculine. “Arvel, no! Wait for the others to give you the all clear!”
“I don’t need them, I can fight off the draugr by myself.” Another male voice, but higher-pitched. Xira guessed this was Arvel. “Remember, I’ve got the Golden Claw!”
“You’d just as soon run away,” a female voice snapped. “There’s a reason you’re called Arvel the Swift.”
A thought occurred to Xira. If she could convince these people to team up… She could fight them, if it came to it. That seemed almost faster, but Xira wasn’t about to kill in cold blood for the sake of convenience. She may have been a thief, but that didn’t make her a murderer. Perhaps if she convinced them to leave Rajan and herself be...maybe Rajan would be more open to payment? And possibly dinner. That made this whole thing worth it. Xira gave a determined growl as she crept closer. She was almost to the middle arch. Were they bandits? If that were the case she might as well give up on negotiations.
“I would not!” the one called Arvel was indignant. “The draugr, now they’re the ones who would be running!”
“Yes, whatever. Be patient, will you?” the first, deep voice rumbled.
Xira hid behind the leg of the arch, peering out at the three figures. There was a dark-skinned man wearing scaled armor, a greatsword made of what looked to be iron slung over his back. The deep voice seemed to belong to him. The woman had pale skin with light blonde hair. Her armor was fur, and a warhammer was lashed to her back. The Dunmer had to be Arvel, then. He didn’t have any immediately visible weapons on over his hide armor. Suddenly the temple doors opened. A second woman with olive-colored skin nodded at them as she held them open. Arvel and his two companions walked inside, disappearing into the darkness. Anyone else would have thought they’d missed their chance, but not Xira. She simply waited a few moments to let them get further in. The door hadn’t creaked when it had opened--that made for a quick and easy entry. She looked back at Rajan and Alton, but could only see the faintest silhouette of the Khajiit and horse through the snow. Then she moved forward towards the great black doors. The handle felt frozen as she opened it.
It took a moment for Xiracoatl’s eyes to adjust to the darkness inside the temple. The first room was enormous, the ceiling held high by two great stone pillars. It reminded her of some sort of mead hall, but without tables. At the end of the hall she thought she could see a smaller, man-sized opening leading deeper into the ruin, but she wasn’t sure. She heard fire cackling and footsteps crunching on the cracked stone floor near it. Xira crept closer, finally hiding behind one of the pillars some thirty feet away. Arvel and his two companions had reached a small encampment just beside the smaller opening. Two more people Xira didn’t recognize stood before them. One was a female Argonian, the other was a great, bearded bear of a man. Their arms were crossed.
“Arvel, Bjorn, what kept you?” The Argonian woman’s voice had a dry, breathy undertone.
“Arvel had itchy feet,” the deep-voiced man replied with a chuckle.
“Yes, forgive me for being excited. It isn’t like there’s a huge stash of treasure at the end of this ruin,” Arvel snapped. His tone dripped sarcasm.
“You’re fortunate we didn’t leave without you. Soling and I finished the draugr ages ago.” the Argonian replied.
Arvel scoffed. “And what would you do once you reached the Hall of Stories, Athiana? Sing at the door?”
The Argonian pouted. For a moment, there was silence.
“Albret turned on us.” the big man grunted, pointing over his shoulder in Xira’s direction. She hid behind the pillar again, glancing around with her back to the cold stone. The body of a man lay face-down in the shadows just ten feet away in a pool of what looked like blood..
Oh, Divines...that’s just nasty.
“I thought he would. The man was far too jumpy to be honest.” Arvel said.
A flash of doubt passed over Xira. If this was what they were willing to do to their own, what would they do to her…? Maybe it was best to go back and get Rajan. There was nothing wrong with asking for help, right? No. She had to prove her worth as a companion if she wanted Rajan to notice her.
I can do this. I can totally do this. I’m stealthy. They’ll never see me coming. Xira told herself this once, and then twice. Maybe if she said it enough she’d believe it. She tensed and silently pulled out her daggers. They’d never see her coming.

[oddi]

i'm so sorry these sections are so short the google document is like 32 pages long welp

Before she had a chance to second-guess herself, she lunged from her hiding place. The big, meaty man was the closest target, and he had his back to her. She threw all of her weight onto the blade she plunged between his shoulderblades. It made a sickening SCHUK! but she didn’t give it a second thought. The huge Nord let out a shout and dropped to his knees, then onto his side. His companions, startled, drew their weapons and ran for their attacker. Xira tugged at the blade in the Nord’s back. It didn’t move, and she didn’t have time to try again. She left it where it was and held tightly to her remaining weapon. She could still do this.
“Arvel, go! We’ve got this!” The fur-clad woman from outside ran towards the Khajiit, warhammer swinging. The steel head of the hammer gleamed gold in the firelight. Xira dashed backwards to get out of its range; if the crushing weapon struck her anywhere she’d be in a bad way. Meanwhile the man called Bjorn had his iron greatsword out--Xira swore he was roaring. He wasn’t far behind his hammer-wielding companion, and the Argonian wasn’t far behind him, her steel shortsword raised skyward.
What the hell was I thinking? Xira thought to herself. She turned for the door and ran, leaping over piles of rubble. Why did she have to hide so far away? The Khajiit glanced behind her; her pursuers were still right there.
“You’re going to regret ever being born, cat!” Bjorn shouted. It sent a shiver down Xira’s spine.
And then it happened. One second she was running, the next something had pulled her to the ground. Her lower back and tail exploded in pain as the warhammer cracked down on the tip of her tail. It hurt so bad Xira’s vision blurred. Her scream echoed in the huge hall. The warhammer-wielding woman raised her weapon high over Xira’s head and brought it down--
The silver-furred Khajiit rolled to the side and the spiked steel smashed the stone floor beside her. Xira shook off the pain as best she could as she leapt to her feet. The woman raised the hammer again, preparing to swing it… Xira saw her opportunity and took it. She leapt forward and plunged the silver blade into her opponent’s rib cage. The woman’s eyes widened and she fell to the ground, warhammer clattering beside her. Xira yanked at the blade handle and removed the weapon, now coated in blood. The remaining combatants stared in surprise. Xira had taken down a brave warrior with a flimsy little dagger; this must have caught them off guard.
“Fria!” Bjorn shouted. He glared at the Khajiit, eyes blazing. “You killed my wife!”
Oh. A pang of regret spiked Xira’s chest. She had no time to apologize, however; Bjorn ran at her, screaming and swinging his greatsword. There was a murderous light in his eyes. Now it was personal. Xira dodged the blade, staggering backwards. She was right next to one of the pillars holding up the ceiling… She bolted around it just as Bjorn brought down his blade. Now was her chance. She ran behind him and punched her dagger into his lower back. He fell to the ground.
The Argonian was the only one left now. Xira pulled her blade from Bjorn’s carcass and leapt for the lizard-person; she could fight someone with a shortsword. Xira bared her teeth in a snarl as she slashed downward. The Argonian raised her blade to block.  Clang! The Khajiit danced backwards, tossing her dagger to the other hand. She went in again, this time catching Athiana’s thick scaled hide and doing no damage. Damn it. This time it wasn’t Xira who struck. The shortsword aimed for Xira’s muzzle; without thinking, Xira raised her arm to block the hit. The blade slashed deep into her forearm just above her leather bracers, drawing blood almost immediately. Her whole arm stung with the hit. She pushed it to the back of her mind and made another strike, this time for her enemy’s exposed throat.
The combined force and precision of the hit meant the blade hit its mark. Xira’s arm was suddenly drenched in blood as the blade cut into the life-giving vein in Athiana’s neck. The lizard went limp, dead before she hit the ground. And then there was silence. Arvel the Swift was nowhere in sight. He must’ve run as the woman called Fria had told him to. Xira sighed. She’d go after him with Rajan. She would go out to get her companion in a moment.  Her arm and tail were on fire. She could live with it. She glanced behind her to look at her tail. The tip was somewhat flattened and smeared with blood. Xira examined the wound in her arm. A deep cut, almost to the bone...no wonder it burned. Rajan couldn’t be allowed to see the injury, she decided. The silver-furred cat pushed the leather bracer on her arm to hide it. The corpses around her were silent. She turned and padded towards the corpse of the big man to retrieve her dagger. There was a shing as she sheathed them. After a moment,  Xira flexed her shoulders and opened the door, bounding away from the Barrow and towards Rajan.

[oddi]

“It’s good!” she shouted. “One got away, but he won’t get far.”
Rajan eyed her suspiciously. “You killed them?”
Xira’s stomach did a flop. “...I had to. They were attacking me!”
“So they saw you? What were they?” Rajan crossed her arms.
“They were bandits, I think. And no, they didn’t. Well, I kind of jumped out at them. They killed one of their own, I didn’t want to wait and see what they’d do to me!”
“Did they say anything about a dragonstone?”
“Uh...no? I overheard something about a Golden Claw, though. Whatever that is.”
“Damn.” Rajan put her muzzle in her palm. “Did they have it?”
Xira shrugged. “I didn’t see it. The one that got away said he had it but I can’t imagine he’ll be hard to find.”
Rajan nodded. She turned to lead Alton to one of the trees and tied him to a thick bough. Then she started rummaging in his saddlebags. There was a long moment of silence in which Xira stood awkwardly.
“So...do you want to hear how my epic battle went?”
“You’re covered in blood. I know how it went.” Rajan’s tone was brisk.
“Are you impressed?” Xira asked.
“I don’t really care, to be honest.” Rajan pulled a small sack from the horse’s saddlebags. She held it out to Xira.
“What’s this?”
“It’s for your tail. And your arm. If you don’t want someone to know about your wounds, make sure they don’t bleed through your armor.” The brown-furred Khajiit nodded at Xira’s bleeding arm. The blood had soaked through the leather of her bracer.
Of course Rajan would know. Xira took the bag, pouting. Inside of the sack there was a small red bottle. It smelled bittersweet. “Healing potion? It’s not that bad…”
“Sickness will get into the wound if it’s left alone. Drink it.”
Xira sighed. She removed the bottle and popped the cork. The bittersweet smell was suddenly overpowering. She bit back a ‘yuck!’ and drank it quickly. The fluid tasted as strong and bitter as it smelled. It took a moment for a warmth to start in her stomach. It quickly spread to her limbs, heating the skin around her wounds. It almost burned in her arm and tail, but it was over as suddenly as it started. Xira looked back at her tail. It didn’t hurt anymore. The smeared blood was drying. Her arm looked like it had never been cut.
“Thanks.” Xira grunted.
Rajan nodded. “You’re welcome. I have five more. Hopefully we won’t need them. Now should we move?”
“I’m ready, I think.”
“You’re sure?” Xira’s brown-furred companion looked her up and down. “I suppose you can wash all that gore off when we’re finished, even if it does smell...vile.”
Her enthusiasm for this adventure was beginning to wear thin. “...Right. Let’s go.”
Rajan lead the way back to the Barrow, glancing at the  fresh, Xira-made corpses in the first room with interest as they passed. Xira watched her face intensely for signs of approval, only to find her expression unreadable. It felt like it had taken hours for them to get to the campfire at the end of the room. Rajan  stopped in front of the opening leading deeper into the ruins.  The lighter of the two cast a nervous look at her companion’s face. Still unreadable.
“This is your last chance,” Rajan said after a moment of silence.
“My last chance to…?”
“To change your mind.”
Xira narrowed her eyes. “I killed three people. Doesn’t that prove how serious I am?”
“Perhaps. Time will tell.”
There was another moment of quiet, the only sound being the cackle of the fire. Then Rajan stepped down, officially beginning their descent into the unknown. Roots sprawled across the floor, creating a maze on the sandy stone. The air was much mustier now; it felt almost like running face-first into a wall. Despite the torches lining the walls, the dampness of the air clung to Xira’s fur and made her want to run for the surface again. The walls here pressed in on her. It was almost too much to bear, and yet Rajan seemed fine.
“Someone passed this way,” Rajan said. “Smells like Dunmer.”
“You can tell the race by smell?” Curiously, Xira breathed in. All she could smell was an elf. She couldn’t tell what kind.
Her companion shrugged. “I spent some time on Solstheim. I know the smell.”
“Really? How much time?”
“Enough to know what a Dunmer smells like.”
Rajan really didn’t talk a whole lot, did she? Xira sighed. It was going to be a lot harder than she originally thought. Clearly this woman couldn’t pick up on the least subtle of hints.
The scent of death--old death--drifted to the air. There was a scratching noise up ahead, almost like footsteps. Then a deep, impossibly guttural grunt. Was that…a voice? If it was, Xira couldn’t understand a word it was saying.
“Your weapons. Get them out now, there’s draugr up ahead,” Rajan said.
Draugr? Awesome. “How many of them?”
“I can’t tell. It doesn’t sound like very many.”

[/size]“That’s good, right? We can do this.” Xira replied, more for her own benefit than Rajan’s. There was a quiet shing as the Khajiits removed their weapons.

[oddi]

Draugr were undead warriors that populated the ruins of Skyrim. They were usually followers of the ancient dragon priests, having been buried with their lords in life so that they could serve them after death. Not much was known about them other than the fact that they would defend these ruined temples and kill anyone who got too close. Theories about how they had been reanimated drifted around Tamriel, the most popular being some kind of long-lasting spell or enchantment. They were creatures of nightmares and legends. It wasn’t uncommon for explorers to venture into ruins and never be seen again.
“Don’t let them get behind you,” Rajan murmured.
She started moving again, slowly and silently this time. Xira followed. Together they rounded a corner that opened into a large, ancient hall. The floor was twelve feet below them, with ramps leading down. A black stone coffin lay in the middle of the hall, surrounded by lit torches. Xira glanced around, looking for a way deeper into the ruins. There was one on the side of one wall. They could get to it…but first they had to get past the draugr.
Snarling, dried-out corpses wandered the floor below. Xira’s eyes widened. Four of them. Could they take four draugr? They looked so fragile, like their legs could snap at any moment under the weight of their ancient leather armor. Their wrinkled gray skin appeared almost papery, and she could see the muscle structure underneath. When one turned around, she saw two glowing orbs in the places of eyes. Two of them had angry-looking swords latched to their belts, one had a bow and the fourth had an axe. Xira couldn’t take her eyes off of them. It was like her whole body had seized up.
“Never seen draugr before?” Rajan’s voice surprised her.
“I, uh...I try to keep away from these ruins.” Xira replied quietly. “All the stories about adventurers getting lost down here...the draugr just ripping them apart.”
“Much of what you hear is false,” her companion flexed her sleek shoulders. “Draugr are no different from, say...trolls. They’re not invincible.”
“Hrrrgh…?”
Xira looked up in time to see one of the draugr turning around, drawing its sword. The rest followed suit and they began to shamble up the ramp...towards the cat-folk. They had heard.
“I hope you’re ready, because things are about to get nasty!” Rajan exclaimed. She seemed far too happy to leap into battle, Xira decided.
Refusing to allow herself some time for doubt, she threw herself into the fray. Rajan had her steel blade raised above her head, ready to bring it down on an unfortunate draugr. Xira dodged the two of them, going instead for the one wielding the axe. Its glowing eyes sent ice through her veins.
“Qiilaan us dilon!” the creature’s growling voice was grating on Xira’s oversized ears.
She almost couldn’t believe it spoke. She lowered her blades in surprise. “Wait, what?”
The thing swung its axe at Xira’s gut, prompting her to stagger backwards and out of range. Her claws dug into the leather grip on her daggers’ handles. That wasn’t fair. It’d caught her by surprise! Now she was angry. Screaming, she leapt forward and plunged her blades through the glowing blue orbs that made her so afraid. She half-expected some wet shuck, instead receiving a dried-out crunch. The corpse went limp in her grasp, sliding off her blades and hitting the ground. Dust rose up from the body.
That was almost too easy, Xira thought.
Another draugr came running at her with its sword at the ready, growling, “Faas! Pook! Dinok!” This one wore an ancient iron helm with elk antlers sticking out the sides.
Xira crossed her daggers to catch the sword on its way down, catching the blade at the center and blocking the hit. The strength of the impact jarred her; how were these things so...strong? They looked like they were about to fall apart. The ancient, lingering stink of death was more powerful now. It made Xira’s stomach churn. What happened next she couldn’t predict in a thousand years. The draugr’s fist flew over the crossed daggers, catching Xira square in the nose and sending her sprawling. The pain in her face was overwhelming. Clearly these creatures couldn’t fight fair. The next time Xira looked up, the withered corpse was raising its blade again to bring it down on her head. Her skull would split like a knife through butter…she shut her eyes tight.
There was a clang! Xira opened her eyes to see Rajan slashing the creature in two below the chest. She’d blocked the hit that would have smitten the life from her silver-furred companion. Xira leapt to her feet just as the severed halves of the draugr hit the floor.
“Do you expect these things to play fair?!” Rajan snarled.
“Well I got one, didn’t I?” Xira snapped.
“They’re not going to wait for you to get up if you fall, and they aren’t beyond punching you in the face if it comes down to it,” her companion replied.
Xira didn’t say anything, not so much because she was angry but because the last draugr was snarling obscenities as it launched arrows from the far corner where it stood. She raised her weapons again, though she had no chance to use them. An arrow flew to the air, landing in Rajan’s shoulder with a twang! The brown Khajiit fell to her knees, clutching the wound. The draugr’s guttural laughter filled the room.

[oddi]

An emptiness filled Xira’s gut. “Rajan!”
Rajan glanced up at her companion, pain clouding her gaze. “I’ll be alright. Go kill that thing. You can do it.”
Xira nodded, then ran towards the draugr archer. It loosed another arrow, this one sailing above Xira’s head. It pinged harmlessly against the far wall.
“Not today, Crispy!” she snarled, plunging her weapon into the creature’s head. She piled all the malice she could into the blow, allowing herself a moment of satisfaction as the blue glowing eyes became empty sockets. The withered corpse fell to the ground. Whatever enchantment had kept it animate was now broken.
“‘Crispy?’” Rajan echoed. There was amusement as well as pain in her tone. “I’m embarrassed for you.”
Xira padded back towards her friend. “What? I was angry. Should I get a healing potion?”
Rajan gritted her teeth as she ripped the ancient arrow from her shoulder. Blood began to spill from the wound with much more enthusiasm. With one hand applying pressure to the wound, she used her free hand to open the satchel at her hip. She removed another of the red bottles, popped the cork, and downed the contents. She tossed the bottle at the wall where it shattered into dozens of pieces.
Well, nevermind. Xira thought.
Rajan’s wound glowed a bright gold. The flow of blood gradually slowed as the wound healed. The brown-furred Khajiit stood and stretched--Xira couldn’t help but stare. Rajan must have noticed.
“What are you looking at?”
Your extremely attractive body? “Uh...nothing.”
They moved on deeper into the ruins. There was silence for a long time. Then Rajan spoke. Her voice echoed on the walls.
“You’re a good warrior, like you said. Assuming we’re still alive, perhaps you could accompany me back to Whiterun to return…” Rajan trailed off.
“Return what?” Xira furrowed her brow.
“...I suppose I can tell you. We’re here for a map of dragon burial sites. Farengar called it a ‘dragonstone’. He never said why, just that it has something to do with the return of the dragons.”
“Return of the dragons? Don’t tell me you believe that…”
“I was at Helgen.”
Xira’s eyes went wide. Helgen had reportedly been destroyed by a great black dragon, but she’d figured they had just been rumors. It hadn’t been far from her family’s farm--about three hours’ ride through Riverwood. That time would be almost certainly halved by a dragon. Which meant if those terrifying creatures had returned, her family was in far more danger than Xira had anticipated.
“Oddly enough, the dragon saved my life,” Rajan continued. “I was about to be executed by the Imperials.”
Rajan was an outlaw?! “Wait, what for?”
“Wrong place, wrong time.”
“...Right.” Almost immediately Xira began to wonder if she’d tagged along with a murderer. Being killed by a beautiful woman wasn’t the worst way to die, but if given a choice between being murdered by someone who was very physically attractive and not dying at all, Xira would have gone for not dying at all. Whatever happened, it was too late to turn back now. Even if romance was out of the picture, there were riches waiting at the end of the journey. She just had to keep her eyes on the prize.

[oddi]

After an unbearable moment of silence, she had to say something. “So...dragons. I thought they were just rumors. Did you see one up close?”
“I saw it swallow a man’s upper half. After it unleashed a great roar to summon flaming boulders from the skies.”
“...Seriously?”
Rajan stopped walking, turning instead to look Xira in the face. She was completely serious. “I hope never to see such a beast again.”
“Was it...big?”
“Don’t sound so excited.”
“Sorry.”
More silence.
They walked down a small passage with a roof that hung low enough to tickle their ears as they walked. It soon opened to a small room shaped like an ‘L’, with them approaching from the top and the lower half branching out to their right. At the end of the room a table sat on a raised part of the floor. A few shiny objects rested on the black stone surface, though Xira couldn’t make them out. Curiosity got the better of her; she pushed past Rajan and wandered toward the table, hands behind her back.
“Wait, Xira! Stop!” Rajan’s shout made Xira stop mid-step. “Don’t step there. Just back away.”-
“What? Why?”
Then she looked down. This section of the floor was littered with traps. She was about to step on a push-plate that would trigger who knew what. Heart pounding, Xira froze.
“Oh, Divines, that was close…”
“Xira, you’re caught between a tripwire and a push-plate. If you move...” Rajan didn’t have to finish.
“So...what now? I can’t stay here!” Xira’s chest felt like it was going to explode. Panic was setting in.
“I know. Just give me a moment. I’ve got this.” Xira heard the scuffling of footsteps behind her as Rajan approached. There was rustling as her companion rummaged through her rucksack, then a ‘snip’. “Alright, I’ve snipped the tripwire. I’m holding it. Step backwards, high as you can.”
Xira hesitated before doing as she was told. She half expected the light touch of the wire against her boot, then the pain of spears in her chest or fire blasted through the nearest wall. Instead the tip of her toes hit the dusty stone floor, though it startled her just as badly. Once she was clear, Rajan let go of the wire with a ‘snap’. Almost immediately, a jet of fire exploded from the wall to their left, sending both Khajiits scrambling back and away from the flames. A pair of arms latched themselves firmly around Xira’s shoulders. She glanced down, then up. Rajan must not have meant to pull her silver-furred companion into a  protective embrace.
The flames subsided, though it left scorch marks on the walls and floor. Xira was almost tempted to pull out of Rajan’s embrace, but it felt so…good. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
“Are you alright?” Rajan said, dropping her arms.
Xira shifted uncomfortably, suddenly cold now that she was no longer in her friend’s grip. “I’ll be fine. Just...shaken.”
“Do you need to rest?” the brisk tone the brown-furred cat held and her tense body gave away embarrassment.“I’m okay. Really.” Xira replied. “We should, uh...we should keep going.”

[oddi]

Xira stood and held out her hand to help Rajan up. Once standing, Rajan fetched her torch from the sconce on the wall and lead the way towards the table. She stepped carefully over the push-plate, beckoning for Xira to follow. She did, though her heart refused to stop pounding in her chest. They stood together at the table, close enough to touch. Xira didn’t dare step on the raised platform it rested on. This close, she could see intricate and deep carvings in the table. Ancient Nord artisans were known for this kind of work. Two opaque pink-and-turquoise iridescent crystals rested on the black stone, the smaller one about the size of a Khajiit cub’s fist and the larger one might as well have been a Nord’s. Xira picked the smaller one up--it hummed and vibrated in her grip as though it contained some kind of power. It made the fur on her fingers tingle. She picked up the larger one; it hummed louder and vibrated with a greater frequency.
“Soul gems. I’ve read about these.” Xira said. “I never thought I’d see one in person, though.”
Rajan shrugged. “You’ve never seen one? They’re annoyingly common.”
“Used to power enchantments, right? On weapons and shields.”
“That’s right.”
Xira eyed the chipped surface of the larger gem. “How much are they worth?”
Rajan took both stones from Xira’s grasp, inspecting them closely. “Based on size, I can only guess. The smaller one looks like a Petty soul gem. Worth about ten gold, you could maybe get half that if you’re good at haggling. The larger one is a Common soul gem, and it’s worth fifty. Maybe you’d get thirty.”
“That’s not much. That’s not much, is it?” Xira’s ears twitched nervously.
Her companion shrugged, noncommittal. She put the gems back on the table. “Compared to the reward I’ve been promised, it’s not worth the weight.”
“Must be some reward.” Xira remarked.
“Indeed. We should keep moving.”
Now that they were by the table, they could see what the lower half of the ‘L’ shaped room looked like--and it wasn’t much. A hole with rickety-looking stairs spiralling downward in the center, with what looked like broken tools strewn around the floor. Rajan lead the way, her weight causing each step to creak like it would break. Xira followed close behind, ready to catch her if the ancient wood gave way. They reached the bottom of the staircase, then entered another cramped passageway. Parts of the walls here were falling apart. They passed urns cracked with age nestled in corners. The air here was thicker than before. It felt like it was trapped under Xira’s fur, pressing against her skin, crushing her. She wanted to turn tail and run back to the surface, if only to breathe fresh air again. But there was treasure at the end, she assured herself, and it would be worth the struggle.
It wasn’t long before the guttural snarls of draugr reached Xira’s ears again. Now that the sound was familiar to her, she felt like it would haunt her for the rest of her days.
“I hear something up ahead. Sounds like draugr.” she said, pulling her daggers from her belt.
“I don’t hear anything,” Rajan replied.
Xira flicked her large ears. “These things aren’t just for display, you know.”
“Whatever you say.” A chuffing sound came from Rajan’s chest--Xira could have sworn it was a chuckle.
Xira’s companion pulled out her steel sword and began to move ahead more softly. They rounded a corner and the passageway opened into a large room that looked like a maze of thick pillars and stone walls. In each of the pillars, human-sized niches were carved out. In them stood the dry, dead bodies of draugr. They were motionless, waiting... They continued to move forward into the room, weaving past the statue-like corpses. Xira made sure to give each draugr a wide berth. She could almost picture them leaping from their ancient nests, swinging their blades and slashing her to pieces. The thought made her shiver. The silence in the room was only broken by the crackle of the fire in Rajan’s torch. They were more than halfway through, close enough to the exit that Xira could see it around the corner. Relief swelled in her chest.
An almost papery cracking sound broke the quiet as one of the withered human corpses stepped from its niche. Then another, and another. Xira counted seven, all coming from the same direction. They had various swords, axes and one even had a mace.A hand tugged on her arm, pulling her towards the exit. Rajan’s voice obliterated the other sounds in the room. “Run! Come on, we can’t fight them! We’ll have to lose them in the ruins!”

[oddi]

Heart thundering, Xira turned and bolted after her companion. The draugr’s snarls faded a little at first, but then...scuffling. The kind of scuffling that only came with ancient, withered feet on a stony, dust-covered ground. The silver-furred Khajiit didn’t dare look back. Rajan yanked her around a corner, then another. Torches on the walls blurred at the edges of her vision. Around yet another corner, down some stone stairs. The passage walls were getting closer together. Xira almost felt like they were caving in on her. She lost count of how many rooms they passed and hallways they traversed. And then suddenly…
The walls were gone. Rajan skidded to a halt in a wide room with a low roof. Two pillars stretched ahead of them. Another black table sat at the far wall, though it was almost buried in linen wrappings from centuries if not millenia before. Behind them, the sounds of draugr faded as the creatures lost interest.
Then…
A familiar voice rang out. It came from a part of the room Xira couldn’t see,  “Is someone there? Harknir, Bjorn, Soling?”
Those names. Xira knew those names, and the accent was clearly Dunmer. She broke away from Rajan and padded deeper into the room. The voice lead her to a barrier made of spider webs. More webs decorated the left side of the room, too big to be made by spiders...at least, by the small kind. Xira began slashing at the web barrier, then entered the hidden part of the chamber.
The webs here were thick. Every detail of the room was obscured in the thick white material. Her boots stuck to the floor with each step. At the far end of the room, an elven figure was suspended by the stuff.
Xira recognized Arvel. “Wait, you’re not--who are you? Oh, Devines--kill it!”
She followed his gaze upward. A dagger of fear pierced her chest. The biggest spider Xira had ever seen, larger than a horse and carriage dropped from the ceiling. It was taller than a horse, and it stank of rotting corpses. Fresh rotting corpses. Its enormous mandibles oozed a disgusting, bitter-smelling greenish liquid. Its eight dark eyes had a predatory gleam, and Xira was its prey. Her instincts told her to run and for a moment, she almost did. It would have been easy to sprint away and leave Arvel behind. It would save her own hide. Except Arvel had mentioned something called the Golden Claw, and her greed and curiosity combined were enough to make her stay. Xira’s fingers tightened on the handles of her daggers. She didn’t even look around to see if Rajan was watching.
The huge eight-legged creature lunged forward, spitting great globs of venom in Xira’s direction. She leapt to the side, and the green ooze splattered to the floor where she’d been standing seconds ago. It raised its two forelegs and screeched.
I made it angry, she thought. Can spiders get angry?
Again, the beast lunged forward, though this time it didn’t spit. It bared its mandibles and went for Xira’s gut. Again she leapt out of the way. Her daggers were too short to hit the creature from this distance, and she sure as hell didn’t want to get closer to that thing than she had to. It wasn’t the first time Xira wished she’d spent her gold on a sword… Without warning, the spider slumped to one side as if it couldn’t support itself. A brown blur raced by as it happened, materializing at Xira’s side as Rajan. Her friend had her sword in her hands, and it was dripping green ooze. Three of the giant spider’s legs lay twitching on the floor. The spider screeched again, this time louder.
“Yes, that’s right! Kill it!” Arvel’s voice rose above the din.
Rajan padded towards the stumbling creature and plunged her sword through what could be considered its head. The beast seized and then fell limp. Xira shuddered at its now dead eyes before turning to Arvel. She was closer now, and she could see that he was suspended by the webs in the entrance to another passage leading deeper still into the ruins.
The Dunmer seemed overjoyed.“Ah! Yes! Good, excellent! Now cut me down.”
“You said something about a ‘Golden Claw’?” she asked.
“Yes, the claw. I know how it works. The claw, the markings, the door in the Hall of Stories. I know how it all fits together.” Arvel’s red eyes gleamed with excitement.
“Hand it over,” Xira snarled.
“Oh, Divines, I thought you were a smart one. I suppose I was wrong. Look, I can’t. You’ll have to cut me down first!” the Dunmer struggled against his restraints, which held fast.
“Hand over the claw or I won’t cut you down.” Xira pressed.
Arvel rolled his eyes. “Again, I can’t. Either you cut me down or you go home without the claw.”
Rajan heaved a sigh as she came up behind Xira, sword at the ready. She half-thought her friend would slash the dark elf in two then and there, but instead she began chopping at the web holding Arvel in place. After a moment Xira joined in, cutting away the sticky white stuff with her daggers. Arvel slowly began to emerge from his prison, then suddenly hit the ground face-down when the last strands gave way. He lay there for a moment, gasping, before staggering to his feet and brushing himself off.
“Ah! Thank you for that. I thought I would surely die here. That would have been embarrassing. Now goodbye, lovelies. I must be off!” Arvel turned around and shot down the open passageway in a burst of speed Xira could never have anticipated.

[oddi]

The two Khajiit shared a glance before chasing after him. They chased him through the passageway, then another room. Whatever draugr were there, they didn’t even have time to attack. Xira’s padded feet began to ache and her legs burned. She heard Rajan’s panting beside her. Arvel still kept ahead of them, just out of reach. They passed through another room.
Anger swelled in Xira’s chest. Arvel made her look stupid and inept in front of Rajan, and because of that bastard they were missing valuable opportunities to look for gold--and these were Nordic ruins, there had to be lots of gold. Her fingers tightened around her daggers for what felt like the hundredth time that day. She had to take a chance, she decided. If he outran them, they’d never get what they were looking for.
“ARVEL, LOOK OUT! DRAUGR!” she shouted.
Arvel skidded to a halt, looking around for the draugr. It only lasted a second, but it was enough. Now that she had a motionless target, she could make her hit. She threw one of her weapons, aiming for Arvel’s back. Anywhere, just on his back... The blade sank deep into the back of Arvel’s upper thigh. The Dunmer screamed and fell to the ground, curling into a ball to clutch the wound. Both Xira and Rajan slowed to a halt, watching the man writhe on the ground.
“WHY DID YOU DO THAT?!” he shouted.
Xira shrugged. “Had to get you to stop running somehow.”
“That was very clever,” Rajan observed, padding towards Arvel. “Not terribly efficient, because now we’ve got to kill him.”
“I was aiming for his back,” Xira replied. “I guess the dagger had other plans.”
“Right, the dagger did.” Rajan sounded skeptical.
“...can we just take the claw and leave? That would save time.” the silver furred Khajiit prodded the Dunmer with her boot. “I really don’t want to have to kill him.”
“But...you’ll take me with you, right? You won’t leave me for the draugr?” Arvel butted in.
“That depends on how much we decide we like you,” Rajan replied. “Give us this ‘Golden Claw’. Now.”
“Uh...okay. It’s in my satchel. On my hip.”
It was then that Xira noticed the bulging sack hanging from Arvel’s belt. The weight of whatever was inside had the leather stretched to its limits. Rajan pulled the dagger from Arvel’s leg--the dark elf screamed again as fresh blood began to pool on the floor--and used the blade to cut the satchel from his belt. It fell readily into her open hands.
Rajan handed the blade to Xira. “You’re going to want to clean that.”
“....Yeah.” Xira said, eyeing the blood dripping off the dagger. She took it but didn’t sheathe it. “....Thanks.”
The brown Khajiit pulled open the sack and peered inside. “Gold. Lots of it. Lockpicks, too.”
“I’ll take those,” Xira interjected.
Rajan didn’t look amused when she glanced up. It wasn’t a great joke anyway. “And one golden dragon claw.” She rummaged some more. “And a journal. Fancy yourself a writer, Dunmer?”
Arvel whined, but didn’t say a word.
“Here, let me see the journal,” Xira asked. “Lets see what he’s written…”
Rajan handed her companion a little leather-bound book. It was covered in ink splatters. Xira opened it, flipping through pages of Arvel’s scrappy handwriting. She caught a glimpse of ‘golden claw’ and skipped to the page.
“My fingers are trembling. The Golden Claw is finally in my hands, and with it, the power of the ancient Nordic heroes. That fool Lucan Valerius had no idea that his favorite store decoration was actually the key to Bleak Falls Barrow.
Now I just need to get to the Hall of Stories and unlock the door. The legend says that there is a test that the Nords put in place to keep the unworthy away, but ‘when you have the Golden Claw, the solution is in the palm of your hands.’”
Xira glanced up at Arvel curiously. “You stole it from Lucan Valerius? The shopkeeper in Riverwood?”
“Well, obviously!” Arvel snapped. “How else could I have gotten it?!”
“Hey, watch your tone. You don’t want to make Rajan angry.” the silver-furred Khajiit replied.
“You won’t like me when I’m angry. Well, angrier.” Rajan grumbled. “Xira, we should move on. We’ll deal with him when we get back.”
Xira was tempted to ask what they’d do with the wounded bandit, but she held her tongue. Maybe it would be best for Arvel not to know.
Speaking of Arvel… “What about my leg? I don’t want to bleed out! I don’t!”
“You’re not going to bleed out. It’s just a flesh wound.” Rajan replied.
The Dunmer fell silent, his harsh breathing fading as the two Khajiit moved on. Rajan swung the gold-laden satchel around one finger idly. She didn’t seem too concerned with the threat of more draugr up ahead, or even bothered by the enormous spider that had had Arvel in its web, so to speak. Xira couldn’t help but think about that elf. She didn’t want to kill him. At least not anymore, now that she’d seen him up close. Maybe Rajan would let him go. They walked onward down a flight of stairs, then into a room with a black iron door opposite them. The familiar sound of a draugr’s growl echoed off the walls--it took Xira a second to notice the walking corpse. The creature noticed them, however, and ran at them with its greatsword ready to slash them apart.
“I am done with you corpses today!” Rajan snarled under her breath. Without warning she leapt forward, drawing her sword. With one smooth movement she effectively removed the upper half of the creature’s head, exposing dried-up meat within. The creature fell, its sword clattering to the ground. Xira stood there, staring stupidly. How come Rajan hadn’t done that before? ...It didn’t matter. Xira’s heart pounded in her chest and her yearning grew stronger than ever.
“How many of these beasts do we have to fight?” Xira’s companion sighed as she sheathed her sword. “...What are you staring at?”
“Nothing, nothing,” Xira replied, blinking away.“...Right. This door will lead to the Sanctum.” Rajan trailed her fingers across the black iron door. Intricate and detailed carvings covered its surface. “Come on, we’re getting close.”

[oddi]

Xira trailed after her friend, fur hot with embarrassment. The two of them went through the door to find themselves at the very top of a staircase leading down. A sound reached up to them, something like...swinging? Concerned, she glanced at her brown-furred friend. Rajan didn’t notice, instead leading the way deeper into the ruins. Here the sense of foreboding was strong, almost overpowering. They trotted down the stairs and found another passageway at the bottom, like the ones they walked through to get to the Sanctum. At first glance it was normal, with the exception of three angry-looking axes that swung side to side, ready to slice apart anything that got in their way. They produced a sort of swishing sound with a metallic edge.
“So...what now?” Xira asked.
“Well, someone has to crawl past them. They’re not low enough to hit someone on their belly.” Rajan glanced pointedly at Xira.
“What, me? You’re skinnier.” she replied. She gestured down to her short, curvy, voluptuous build. Rajan was tall and thin and Xira was sure that under all that armor she had a willowy and light body.
“But you’re not the one given an order by the court of Whiterun,” Rajan said. “So...go. I’m waiting on you.”
“Okay, fine.” Xira slunk towards the swinging axes, flinching at the sound they made. She lowered herself to the floor and onto her belly. The dust that rose up tickled her nose, threatening to make her sneeze.
“Why the hesitation?” Rajan called out.
“Give me a second…” Xira replied. She began to shimmy forward on her stomach. It was slow going, and it took her almost fifteen seconds to get under the first axe. It swung so close that she felt the displaced air push against her ears. She flattened them against her head, heart pounding.
Come on, they’re axes. Just stupid axes. You’ve got this, she thought to herself desperately. Just keep going.
Xira closed her eyes and crawled on for what felt like hours. The axes were so loud and so...sharp. She hesitated to think about what they would do to her if she were in their range.
“You do know you’re on the other side now, right?” Rajan sounded amused.
The silver Khajiit opened her eyes. She was most definitely out from under the swinging axes, and then some. Her feet were more than a foot away from the last swinging blade. She couldn’t hide her sigh of relief as she got to her feet.
“Alright. There should be a lever or a button or something on the other side to stop the axes.” Rajan called. Xira glanced around, sure enough finding a handle on the wall beside her. She pulled it and something snapped deep inside the wall. The axes gave one more swing before disappearing in the walls of the passage.
“I wonder how the axes do that?” she asked as Rajan padded confidently through.
“I’m sure somebody knows.” Rajan brushed her off like a loose flea. “Come on, we should--”
“Aal sosi kren!” the garbled voice shouted. There was a scuffling around the nearest corner. Two draugr suddenly appeared, wielding axes and growling. One in rusting armor swung at Xira. She barely had time to block, raising her daggers in a cross to catch the blade.
“More axes? Really?!” she exclaimed, struggling against the draugr’s impossible strength.
Rajan grunted what she thought was agreement, though Xira couldn’t glance over and see what she was doing. Her opponent shoved forward, its face so close to hers she could almost count each hair in its dirty, scraggly beard. The two points of light in its eyes-ockets made the beast seem almost...hungry. Memories of Xira’s father’s stories flooded back.
“Some even tell that the draugr suck the very souls from their victims. Don’t ever look into those blue eyes, they’ll rip you apart.”
Xira had always thought them stories, but now they felt real. Her aching muscles struggled to keep her attacker at bay, screaming for the creature to relent. She took a step back, then another… her back was against a wall now. The draugr snarled, growling in her face…
“Aav dilon!” Xira almost heard…pleasure in the corpse’s words, though she could never know what they meant.
Xiracoatl had never been stabbed before, though she had always imagined what it felt like. Something like sticking one’s hand in a fire, she assumed. Only now she knew her imagination was off. It was off by a lot. Getting stabbed felt worse. White hot agony shot through her stomach, so sudden and unexpected she could barely even gasp, let alone scream. She glanced downward feebly. An ancient Nord dagger had her pinned to the wall. It occurred to her that it must have been the only thing keeping her on her feet by now. The draugr must’ve pulled it out when she wasn’t looking. But that didn’t matter now. Whatever pain she’d felt when the blade went in was doubled when the creature ripped it away. Xira slipped to the ground, leaving a red smear on the rock behind her. Blood--her blood, now that she thought about it--started to spill onto the ground. It was almost surreal.
“Xira, no! Hold on!” Rajan’s voice felt far away. Was that...genuine concern in her companion’s voice, or was she hearing things?
The draugr towered over her. It raised its axe, about to finish the job. Somewhere in Xira’s weakening mind instinct told her to run, to move…it wouldn’t happen. She couldn’t move. She could hardly feel her feet. Or her ears. This was how it was going to end. The axe glittered in the light of the torches. Xira didn’t see it come down, however. She knew it would be quick, but she wasn’t even dead yet. She blinked wearily. The axe was gone. Suddenly, so was the draugr. And then there was Rajan. Her friend’s sweet breath made her shiver, even in her dying state. The look of terror on Rajan’s face almost hurt.
“Hold on, Xira, just...just wait.” She glanced down at the little bag on her hip, unlatching it with shaky fingers.
Say something poetic. Don’t die an idiot.
“That’s...that’s a lot of blood.” Damned poetry.
Rajan met Xira’s eyes. “Yes, it is. The draugr ran you through. We’re going to fix that, though, you hear me?”
Xira’s chest ached a little when Rajan placed her hand on her shoulder. She didn’t want to die without telling her companion about how she felt. “Can I...can I tell you something…?” Her voice sounded terribly inept to her own ears.
“Shh, don’t speak. Save your strength, just give me a minute--” Rajan glanced down again, rummaging through her bag.
“No, n-no, no. I don’t...I don’t think I have time.”
“You’re being dramatic.”
“You said I got run through.”
The brown-furred Khajiit met Xira’s eyes for a second time, this time with a kind of alarm. Almost like she hadn’t expected her friend to be so witty on her deathbed. She broke her gaze again, far too quickly. The edges of Xira’s vision began to blur. Rajan’s face soon filled it again.
“Xira--open your mouth.”
She almost couldn’t see, now. Everything was fading. Rajan disappeared, the passage where she lay dying…“Damn it, Xira! Open your cursed mouth!”

[oddi]

The smell of stale meat woke Xira. Not draugr-stale, but stale. A few days old, maybe. Soon the sound of chewing met her ears. Almost immediately after, a dull throb in her gut brought her into the real world. Xiracoatl opened her eyes, almost immediately closing them. Her head was pounding. It hurt enough to let her know that this wasn’t the afterlife...she felt very much alive. She glanced in the direction of the chewing. The first thing she saw was a small pile of three familiar red bottles. All empty. Used healing potions. A pool of dried blood some feet away. Was that hers? All Xira remembered was pain. But beyond the pool of dried blood, Rajan sat facing her, crosslegged and taking bites out of some dried venison. Her furry brown tail curled around her knees delicately. It took a few seconds for Rajan to see Xira’s open eyes, and when she did she smiled.
“Did you have a nice nap?” she asked.
“What happened?” Xira groaned, wiping her face.
Rajan took another bite. “You got impaled by a dead Nord.”
“I thought I was dead.”
“So did I.” Rajan swallowed casually. “You comfortable?”
Xira slowly and stiffly sat up. She certainly felt like she’d died at some point. Underneath her she felt furs. A bedroll, smeared with blood though there wasn’t a single drop of it. Rajan must’ve dragged her onto it after healing her. Which begged the question…those healing potions were only enough for small cuts. How in the hell had Rajan healed the gaping wound in her stomach?
“Uh...sure. How long was I out?” she asked.
“Long enough to be dead.” Rajan said. How could she be so casual?
Something was off. Xira felt it deep within, though she wasn’t sure what it was. She heaved a sigh. Maybe she just wasn’t back to her regular self yet… Xira investigated the hole in her leather armor where the dagger had broken through. The armor reeked of blood. She’d have to take a bath at the end of this.
“...Right. Should we, uh...keep going?”
“Let me finish eating.”
The two sat together in silence. Then, Rajan stood up, licking her fingers. “Your daggers are over there. We should get moving.”
Xira nodded, finally happy to have something to do. She crawled over to her weapons and picked them up. They were free of her blood, though they’d need a good cleaning once they left these cursed ruins. Slowly, shakily Xira got to her feet. She wobbled slightly and leaned against the rock where she’d been stabbed for support.
“You’re good to move on, right? You look weak.” Rajan watched with worried eyes.
Xira pushed off the rock to stand on her own. “No, I’m...I’m fine. I’ve got this, I can do this.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m positive.”
Rajan nodded and started walking deeper into the ruins. Xira followed more slowly.
“What about your bedroll?” she asked.
“Leave it. Nothing will get that blood out. I can buy another.” Rajan replied. “I scouted deeper into the ruins. The Hall of Stories is just up ahead.”
Xira walked on in silence. A few moments passed. She slowly began to remember the details of her fight with the draugr that ended in her losing. A blade in her gut, a huge amount of lost blood...
Finally she couldn’t hold it in anymore. “I’m curious. How’d you heal me? Those potions never could’ve been enough. I must have been dying, with that much blood on the floor.”
“You were. I have a few tricks up my sleeves, however. I wouldn’t let you die without fighting for your life first.” Rajan seemed desperate to drop the subject.
“Uh-huh…”
They walked on down a set of stairs, then rounded a corner leading to a great, long vault. It was divided into three sections by arches that kept the roof up. The walls were decorated in ancient stone murals. At the end of the room, a great black stone...door? It had three circular rings within, the upper quarter of which were exposed. A silver circle with an image of a different animal dotted the top of each ring. At the very center of the door there was a stone circle with three holes. The whole room had an air of anticipation that left Xira’s fur standing on end.
“This is the Hall of Stories. I’m glad we stopped Arvel  when we did.” Rajan remarked.
“Wow...look at these pictures. They must be thousands of years old.” Xira moved closer to inspect the carvings. Tiny stone men and women dotted the pictures, as well as huge dragons and powerful gods.
Rajan’s voice echoed off the stone walls. “Do you know what the Hall of Stories is for?”
“No, sorry.” the silver-furred Khajiit replied softly.
“This is where the ancient Nords processed their dead. Preparing them for their journeys to Sovngarde. And that” --she pointed at the great stone wall at the end of the room-- “that is the keystone. The bandit said he knew the secret to opening it.”
Xira remembered what she’d read in the journal with a start. The claw was the key… “Rajan, give me the Golden Claw.”
“What? Why?”
“I know how to open the door. It said in Arvel’s journal.”
Rajan eyed her friend for a moment before rummaging in the sack they’d taken from Arvel. She pulled out what looked exactly like a golden dragon’s foot. It had three claws, about the size of the holes in the keystone. On the underside of the foot, three images stood out in a vertical line. The first was the silhouette of a bear. The second, a dragonfly and the third was an owl. Xira padded up to the keystone and began turning the outermost of the rings until she found the matching image of the bear. She did the same with the dragonfly and the owl, then pressed the claw into the three holes on the door and twisted.
There was a great shuddering of the Hall. Dust fell from cracks in the ceiling. Xira half expected the room to come down around them, but it didn’t. Instead the rings inside the keystone turned so that the symbols of the owl were aligned vertically. The great door slid into the ground with a great and powerful rumbling. It revealed a well-lit cavern, very different from anything they’d seen in the Barrow. The great rocky ceiling rose high above, and the walls were far apart. Plants grew in the soil in places and a small waterfall spilled from the stones on one side of the room. Snow filtered in from a hole in the ceiling, drifting down gracefully. A small dusting of the cold white stuff lay in a circle below. By the waterfall, a stone structure stood silently atop a platform with stairs leading to it. It looked like a hollowed out semicircle, with writing on the inside curve. A stone dragon rested at the top, surveying its kingdom with dead grey eyes. Before it, a chest, and some black stone tables were arranged in a circle, as well as...was that a coffin?
Rajan stood there for a moment, studying the cave before them. Then, without a word, she started padding toward the platform. Xira scurried after, unable to peel her eyes off the curved stone bearing the dragon. They passed torches, though they lit none.
“That’s a Word Wall. It’s written in Dovah, the language of the dragons. I only know of...two people who can read it. Maybe. They’ve been labeled liars before.” Rajan murmured as they approached.
Xira replied, “Look at the carvings. It’s beautiful.”
“It is. I’ve never seen one myself.”

[oddi]

The two Khajiit moved up the stairs, looking all about them in awe. The cavernous room was enormous. Some of the stones jutting from the walls were as big as houses. It was cold here--the hole in the ceiling that let in light also let in the cold air from the mountain outside. Any possible heat would escape. Xira shivered. She couldn’t help but feel like they weren’t supposed to be here.
The two of them approached the Word Wall, examining it. Of the unreadable words inscribed in the stone, one seemed to glow light blue. Wait...it was glowing. The closer Rajan seemed to get, the brighter the word became. Tendrils of red and purple light began to flow to Xira’s friend with a hiss, causing her brown fur to glow gold. Rajan squealed and raced backwards to get away. The tendrils quickly died, though the word still glowed faintly. Rajan stared at the wall like she’d been bitten.
“What the hell?” she sounded nervous.
“What? Are you alright?” Xira placed her hand on Rajan’s shoulder.
Anxiety lit her green eyes. “I...I don’t know. It was like the Wall was reaching out. Touching my soul.”
“What, is that possible?” Xira asked.
“I don’t know. I don’t know of any magic that would do that. And…it didn’t seem to happen to you.”
“No, I didn’t feel anything and I was as close as you were.”
“Maybe it only happens to one person at a time?”
Xira nodded. She padded towards the stone, even touched it. She traced her claws inside the engraved symbols, trying to provoke any kind of response from the grey stone. Nothing happened. The stone was dead and silent.
“I don’t think it works on me. You try, maybe it was a one time thing?” Xira said.
Rajan hugged herself. “It felt...wrong.”
“We won’t learn anything if we don’t try.”
“...Fine.” Rajan moved forward hesitantly. Gradually the word began to glow again, and once more the red-and-purple tendrils flowed toward her. Xira watched, entranced. Rajan seemed less enchanted. Alarm filled her gaze and she shifted uncomfortably on her feet like she wanted to run away. She stayed rooted to her spot, however, watching the tendrils wrap around her and disappear into her flesh. After a few seconds the word on the wall flashed brighter, and then went dark. The last of the tendrils vanished into Xira’s friend.
“I...I don’t feel anything different.” Rajan said after a moment.
“You don’t look any different. I mean you’re not green or anything.” the brown Khajiit gave Xira a bitter look.
“A...a word appeared in my head.” she admitted after a moment. “It was part of a chant.”
“What word?”
“None that I’ve ever heard before. ‘Fus’. If I didn’t know better I’d say it was Dovah.”
Something rumbled behind them, like stone being pushed across stone. Xira and Rajan both glanced around, startled, finally settling on movement by what now was obviously a coffin, judging by the withered, armored corpse climbing out of it. The draugr was huge, taller than any they’d ever seen. It had a shiny steel helmet that bore three horns--one on the top and two curved ones on the side. It pulled a greatsword from the sheath on its back.
“Bolag aaz, mal lir! Dovahkiin!” the creature snarled.
“It’s a deathlord!” Rajan’s voice was tight with fear.
What the hell was a deathlord? Whatever it was, it was big and scary and Xira wanted to have nothing to do with it...but Rajan was preparing to fight it, and she had to help. Together they would get through this. The brown-furred Khajiit charged towards the undead corpse, sword at the ready. Xira tugged her daggers from her belt, preparing to follow.
What happened next, Xira could never have anticipated. The beast took a deep breath and shouted, but it was unlike any shout she’d ever heard. A blast of air shot from the creature’s mouth, colliding with Rajan and sending the Khajiit adventurer flying backwards into the curve of the Word Wall. Her sword clattered to the ground some feet away, far out of reach. The deathlord cackled and stalked toward the crumpled brown lump that was Rajan. Xira knew what would happen next--it had happened to her just hours ago. She had to do something…

[oddi]

“Hey, manure-breath!” she shouted.
The draugr turned, and Xira swore she saw the thing smile. The blue piercing light of its eyes sent shivers down her spine. It began stalking towards her now, moving almost like a cat. Despite its ancient, mummified appearance it moved like it still breathed. The other draugr were clumsier, barely coordinated enough to make their attacks. But this...’deathlord’ was better. Stronger. Faster. Smarter. It drew in another breath, and in this shout Xira swore she heard words.
“Fus ro dah!” another wave of air escaped its dried up lungs with incredible force, smashing into Xira’s chest with a heavy thunk!
For a moment, Xira was airborne. Then she hit the ground and tumbled, coming to a stop some 25 feet from the stairs. She was pretty certain there was soil in her armor, but she didn’t care. Rajan was on her own now. Convinced she was no longer a threat, the beast turned back to Rajan. It paused, as though something had happened. Like it was surprised Rajan could move. She was now behind the creature, silently padding after it, sword raised and poised to strike. She cast a glimpse in Xira’s direction; even from here she could see the bright green of her friend’s eyes in the shadows. Rajan looked back at the draugr and raised her sword, about to bring it down on the creature’s head.
The deathlord turned around without warning, stabbing upward with its sword. The blade pierced Rajan’s steel armor like butter, lifting her off her feet. The bloody tip of the sword jutted from the Khajiit’s back. The draugr had skewered her, and she looked just as surprised as Xira. Rajan’s sword fell out of her hands. It had known her location all along. How had it known? How could it possibly have known? The draugr lowered its blade, then removed it. Rajan hit the ground like a sack of mud, blood pooling around her.
“Rajan? Rajan!” Xira’s stomach churned. She felt sick.
It happened too fast for her to believe her eyes. She couldn’t stop staring at the crumpled body on the stone platform. Just seconds ago Rajan had been standing, breathing...not bleeding. She had seemed almost invincible and yet this draugr took that away. First there was sadness. It was like agony in her heart. Her head felt like it would burst. And then the deathlord turned to see Xira and when she saw its withered smile it actually hit her that this creature killed the one she loved. That was unacceptable. Xira’s vision went red. There was anger and rage fueled by the most ferocious of emotions: heartbreak.
This bastard would not live to see the light of day...if one could call that life.
One second Xira was lying in the soil, her daggers spilled around her. The next she was bolting up the stairs, daggers clutched tightly in her hands. Her sights were set on the draugr’s face, in each eyesocket. The draugr snarled as though angry that she was still a threat. It swung its bloody greatsword at her, but she ducked the blow. With her tiny daggers she had no hope of blocking a strike, but she could dodge and she could dodge well. She kept out of the way of each hit, dancing gracefully but her movements full of purpose. Finally she saw her chance. The draugr had its sword raised above its head, about to slash downward. She leapt under its armed and plunged both daggers into its eyesockets with a sickening CRUNCH. The blue light almost immediately died and the withered corpse dropped to the ground. Xira didn’t even bother to remove her weapons from its face. She was already at Rajan’s side.
Rajan’s blood wasn’t flowing very strongly anymore, though that was most likely because she didn’t have much left. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps. A trail of the red liquid ran from the corner of her mouth. Her armor was drenched with sweat. She looked like she was dying, and Xira knew she was. That knowledge cut into her heart like a dagger made of ice. She crouched by her dying friend. Rajan’s bright green eyes were half-closed.