180 Chapter XLIII: Labyrinthian (Part 2)
(Reyvin's POV)
My brilliant retort is met with a deafening silence "Huh" I mutter "He did not answer... Must be shy or something." I shrug carelessly.
Savos' only lightly bloodshot eyes snap to mine as he mutters "Why by all the gods would you ever provoke that creature?"
Both Durrak and myself give him odd looks before I wave him off "We are here to kill him and pillage his long dead corpse, there is no point in being polite about it."
"Besides" I add offhandedly "He is a Dragon Priest, and those are very deserving of my disrespect."
Savos sighs and then nods slowly.
Durrak on the other hand raises a hand "Care to explain what a Dragon Priest is?"
"Eh, sure" I shrug and start walking down the completely empty cave leading deeper into the city "Think of them as lich priests to the Dragon Cult that worshipped Alduin the World Eater when he still ruled Skyrim, they were all powerful magi gifted with extremely potent masks by their draconic overlords and served as the administrators for the less than politically inclined dragons."
We turn another empty corner and I continue my tale "Even among said magi Morokei, who is our host on this fine day, was renowned as a powerful sorcerer... To the point of his mask carrying the name: The Glorious."
"Huh" Durrak trails off, mildly impressed.
Savos lets out a frustrated noise "No surprise we failed so many years ago then..."
"Yup!" I agree without a hint of mercy "Only a complete idiot would enter one of the great remnants of ancient Skyrim while being a mere apprentice."
"There were a lot of us" Savos tries to justify himself.
And fails utterly "A lot of corpses you mean." I quip happily and before he can respond we once again round down a staircase and come before a massive iron gate, the word 'Bromunjaar' was inscribed above it in ancient Nord script followed by words of welcome and invocations of the ancient laws of hospitality.
"Even after so many years, this place is still impressive" I hear Savos mutter.
Just as I am about to start seeking a way to open the gate, the ancient voice resounds throughout the buried city once again "Nivahriin muz fen siiv nid aaz het."
"I think our host is calling you out gramps." I inform my shivering relative.
He grits his teeth "And what is he saying? I do not speak Draconic."
"Dovahzul" I drawl pompously, distracting the old man from his trauma "And it went... something, something, coward, no mercy."
The Archmage gives me a dry look before wordlessly casting a precise telekinesis spell upon the gate, moving it without even a squeak.
As we follow the old Mer Durrak asks "Why do you keep mocking him?"
"He is being a child" I shrug "And the mockery distracts him from the fear."
My Orcish friend shakes his head and jogs forward, already having smelled our next hosts.
I walk down the stone stairs just in time to see Durrak and Savos dispatch a group of brown cave trolls with disdainful ease. The cave dwelling trolls were even weaker than their snowy brethren and even a competent apprentice could deal with them one on one.
As the final beast fell I could finally take a proper look around, and I had to admit I was thoroughly impressed by the ancient Nords. They might have been just above slaves to the dragons and served the literal harbinger of the apocalypse, but it cannot be said that the n'wahs couldn't build well... or at least dig well I guess.
It wasn't Blackreach by any means, but the sprawling cavernous streets spreading out in a massive spiral and leading into what was most likely clan halls spread out all around a central plaza made me nod in appreciation as I imagined the place when it was still a populated center of trade and wealth.
Too bad the whole thing could be starved out with ridiculous ease or I would have been tempted to "colonize" it for my own purposes.
Savos, the inconsiderate twat, interrupted my daydreaming by yelling at me to follow. After I asked what that was all about he explained "The last time I was here there was an ancient library in pristine condition somewhere close to the entrance." He sighs "We wanted to check it out for possible clues that could help in our escape but one of my friends activated a magical trap and we had to flee."
He led us through a couple of smaller passages before we entered a smaller tunnel ornamented with murals of what I could only presume were ancient magi. As we stepped into what Savos believed to be the library, our host decided to be a bother once again.
"You do not answer... Must I use this guttural language of yours?" The voice of Morokei is far more subdued this time, which naturally sets alarm bells in my mind immediately and I activate my third eye just in time to see the subtle Magicka-drain spell he was trying to weave around us all the way from the other end of the city!
"You do realize Dovahzul is far more guttural by its very nature, right?" I question aloud, not really expecting any kind of response, all the while releasing a wave of my own Magicka and destabilizing Morokei's spell.
Savos looks at me with some confusion "What did you just do?"
"Stopped a spell from leeching on our Magicka" I drawl.
The eyebrow he raised starts twitching violently as he grits his teeth "I see... So that is why we were so weak when we finally found him." Without any hesitation, he casts an illusion spell on his own eyes and continues to the library while muttering promises of vengeance.
Said mutters were replaced by dramatic despaired wailing as we entered the part of the library building that held the actual books... The whole thing had been burned down with magical fire, most likely the result of the trap that banished Savos' party.
Consoling the old Dunmer nerd took some time but we finally continued on our quest. Morokei kept growing more and more annoying each time he addressed us, his spell growing ever more blatant and unrefined to my eyes with each failed casting.
He even resorted to openly mocking Savos, whom he had likely recognized from his aura, but the Archmage had by this point managed to fully steel himself and merely ignored the taunts.
Little bone boi was growing frustrated it would seem...
Our peaceful stroll was, as one might expect from a place like this, soon interrupted by groups of Draugr offering us their welcome in the only way they knew how: with copious shouting both mundane and magical.
Cutting through the damned things grew dull by the third hour of us doing so, so I decided to just throw money at the problem and deployed a dozen dwemer spheres with instructions to slaughter anything but us and our summons.
Our stroll turned peaceful once more... if you could ignore the sound of metal hitting the mummified flesh of some suspiciously small looking Draugr that is.
Soon we entered another dirt-filled section of the city, filled to the brim with coffins.
"A burial ground inside a burial ground" I grouse "The ancient Nords really lacked in creativity if the only thing they could consider was death."
"Ooor..." Savos interjects teasingly "Maybe the only thing that remains of them are the tombs because they were the only thing buried so deep?"
"Do not use logic on me old man" I scoff "I am immune to such folly."
The sound of a magical detonation draws our attention just in time to see Durrak impale a transparent female figure with his spear. The creature's bound wisps tried and failed to put the Orc down and were quickly dealt with as well, leaving him surrounded in ectoplasm and shimmering cloth.
"I look away for one moment and you have already penetrated the closest woman" I quip as I approach my friend "How shameful!"
The sound he makes is a mix of a grunt and a snort as he shakes his head "What even is that thing?"
"I..." I trail off as the realization strikes me "I genuinely have no idea."
We both turn to Savos who is too busy playing with a piece of ethereal cloth to even listen in, after some prodding he explains "Supposedly women too furious to pass into the afterlife, they drag children and the unwise to their deaths wherever they can." He tosses me the piece of cloth "The material their cloaks are made of is considered one of the rarest and most potent alchemical ingredients used for conjuration."
The material is extremely pleasant to the touch and I feel a minor soothing effect on my Magicka as the cloth passes through my fingers, moments later I come to a decision and nod "Yeah, I am making underwear from this."
Savos sighs "Reyvin, I literally just said it is one of the rarest materials out there."
I shrug "I don't care, I am rich!"
Savos continues grumbling for at least an hour after we leave that specific chamber.
Things turn incredibly monotonous after that. Enter chamber, secure chamber, loot chamber, continue. Hours and hours we spent trudging through the once impressive, now annoyingly monotonous city, and I swear I would have started blasting the whole thing with earth magic if not for a sudden discovery we made.
Durrak had smacked a rather powerful Draugr into the wall, just enough to crack it and cause it to crumble. Some digging later and we found ourselves standing before a massive vein of gold ore.
My two companions were both stunned, gazing at the massive amount of raw gold with dry mouths. Soon a sound attracted their attention and both deadpanned in perfect sync as their eyes fell upon me, rubbing my palms and chuckling greedily, plans already forming in my mind.
It took the pair of them a good ten minutes to convince me I could come back and plan things later when we weren't about to get murdered by a long-dead religious zealot. I magnanimously agreed to their request.
As we passed an invisible threshold, the usual Draugr were replaced with spectral ones wielding equally spectral and enchanted blades. They were a bit harder to kill and would have been a massive problem for anyone below our league but the sad truth was that they were just blobs of energy and both Savos and I were masters of disrupting said energy by way of destruction magic.
The hall of stories belonging to Bromunjaar was a rather massive edifice, instead of a singular tunnel with some engraving to the sides the hall of Labyrinthian was a monolithic piece of art consisting of dozens of pillars telling the stories of entire clans of ancient Nords.
We decided to take a small break there, as both Savos and I could feel we were getting close to our destination and Durrak's honed instincts told him the same.
A final gate lowered and we stepped into a vast chamber, one with access to the light of day by way of a small crack at the ceiling. Two beams of energy barely entered my sight, the rest being obscured by an odd looking construction, and I remembered the fact Savos had left two of his friends on permanent lich-binding duty.
I turned to the old Mer to make sure he was alright but this time it was my turn to be completely stunned by what I saw.
There stood Savos Aren, covered head to toe in runic ebony plate, not a single millimeter of his skin was exposed and if that wasn't enough about two dozen atronachs and even a duo of Dremora stood around him in quiet preparation.
He summoned a staff tipped with a spearhead, and finally an oddly bent shield that looked very much out of place. When did he get Spellbreaker of all things?
He seems to notice my gaze and I feel his eyes meet mine as he asks "What?"
"Nothing, nothing" I say placatingly "You just seem... more prepared than I expected."
He shrugs, obviously still not used to wearing so much armor armor "Hey, if it works it works." And before I can confirm his claim he starts walking forward with purpose "Now let's kill us a lich and avenge my comrades."
Our host, naturally, could not resist getting one last shot in "Come then, meet your end."
It would not save him.
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