Aar do faal Diil - Pt. 2"This is not a good idea." Vorstag stated for what felt like the thirtieth time that day. "Daedra are dangerous beings, and there's no guarantee that they'll help us." Azaron's ears remained pinned to his skill, as they had been almost since leaving Ivarstead for Solitude.
"I know," The Khajiit replied. "But I am already this one's champion, so she will at the least hear us out." As they had descended the seven-thousand steps, Azaron had explained to Vorstag and Marcurio how, at least two years earlier, he and Tarene had stumbled upon a crystal beacon, hidden in a bandit's fort. Meridia had spoken to them - summoned them to her shrine - and ordered them to cleanse her temple of a necromancer who had taken up residence. They had done so, and the Daedric Prince had named them as her Champions. A despiser of the undead, Meridia was a powerful being who would take no great liking to a long-dead mage seeking to return to life.
Two carriages and one long hike later, they were beginning to a
Aar do faal Diil - Pt. 1Whiterun was a nice enough city, though it wasn't one Marcurio would ever trade for Riften (Thieves Guild and all). He'd visited the central city of Skyrim once or twice before, following clients who had business there, or who were passing through. He'd never stayed longer than a day or two, before, but it had been at least three days since he'd walked through those main gates, this time. His latest visit was courtesy of his most recent employer, an Altmer by the name of Tarene, who had wanted to stop and pay a visit to a mutual friend of theirs.
A Khajiit who made a living hunting bounties, Azaron had been one of Marcurio's previous employers, and had recommended the mage to his partner, Tarene. He had recently returned to Jorvaskrr to rejoin the guild he'd left some years previously, and word of his success had prompted Tarene to plan a detour in between their usual dungeon-delving. They had hired a carriage from Solitude to Whiterun, and had arrived early on a chilly Sun's Dusk Tird
Egvir do Fo DinokArcwind Point was a very open place, with not a single building that had not been filled in by snow and ice at some point in its long history. The Draugr that populated the place had all been buried on the surface; Their deeper brethren were forever sealed beneath the ice sheet, and the survivors' own sarcophagi sat amongst large drifts of snow and sheets of ice. This meant that there was a finite amount of them, and an expedition to clear them out wouldn't have to worry about more Draugr spawning from the darkness as they fought.
Unfortunately, that also meant less treasure would be available upon success, but that wasn't the main reason they were there.
Crouching atop an icy rock formation, Tarene tapped his fingers against his knee in thought. The soft, rhythmic tapping of flesh upon metal served as a metronome to keep the elf's thoughts on track as he tried to figure out their best method for approach. Following the near-disaster in Valundre's Cairn, Tarene had traded his usual rob