If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead and more, be sure to check out my P-Tang12!!!
...
(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
Jenassa darted in, slashing the tendons in the back of the creature's knees, dropping it to a kneeling position. Aerion stepped forward, raising the Ebony Greatsword high above his head. He brought the massive, razor sharp blade down with all of his augmented, transmigrator strength. The dark metal cleaved effortlessly through the ancient horned helmet, splitting the Deathlord's skull and driving deep into its chest cavity.
The ancient magic animating the commander finally shattered. The Deathlord let out a final, hollow rattle, its glowing blue eyes winking out as it collapsed heavily onto the scorched stone floor.
The chamber fell silent, save for the ragged breathing of the combatants.
Aerion pulled his greatsword free, resting the tip against the stone. He looked around the room, ensuring the upper balconies were clear, before letting out a slow, controlled breath.
"Is everyone intact?" Aerion asked, his golden eyes scanning his team.
"Bruised, but whole, my Thane," Lydia answered, rolling her shield arm. She looked down at her steel Whiterun shield, it was deeply gouged and heavily dented from the impacts of the ebony sword.
Tolfdir leaned against the central stone structure, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. "That was... remarkably intense. I have not faced a Deathlord in decades. Your coordination is truly exemplary, Aerion."
Aerion nodded his thanks to the old master before kneeling beside the pile of ash and ancient bone.
He picked up the Deathlord's weapons. The Ebony Sword was perfectly balanced, its edge gleaming darkly in the magelight. The kite shaped Ebony Shield was massive, heavy, and practically indestructible.
Aerion stood up and walked over to Lydia. He held the dark metal out to her.
"Take these," Aerion instructed casually, his voice echoing through the mask. "Abandon your old steel sword and that ruined iron banded shield. You are the vanguard of this unit, Lydia. You require equipment that will not shatter when a monster strikes it."
Lydia froze, her dark eyes widening in genuine shock.
Ebony weaponry was unimaginably rare and astronomically expensive. For a noble to simply hand over a fortune in volcanic glass to a Housecarl after a single skirmish was unheard of.
Lydia slowly reached out, taking the heavy sword and shield. She felt the incredible density and flawless balance of the metal. She looked up at the masked High Elf, her expression filled with overwhelming gratitude.
She immediately dropped to one knee on the stone floor, bowing her head deeply.
"My Thane..." Lydia breathed, her voice thick with emotion. "I... I do not have the words. Thank you. I swear to you, upon my honor and the blood of my ancestors, I will repay this incredible generosity through greater loyalty and harder work. No enemy will ever break this shield while I draw breath."
Aerion smiled beneath the mask, placing a gentle hand on her pauldron and pulling her back to her feet.
"You do not need to swear oaths to me, Lydia," Aerion responded casually, waving off the formality. "You earned this equipment by holding the line against a monster that could have incinerated us all. Wear it proudly."
He then turned his head to look at the Morag Tong assassin, who was quietly wiping the Draugr dust from her daggers.
"Do not feel overlooked, Jenassa," Aerion reassured her smoothly. "I have not forgotten you. When we uncover an artifact or a weapon truly worthy of your specific, lethal talents, it shall be yours."
Jenassa let out a soft, dry chuckle, sheathing her blades with a fluid motion.
"You need not worry about my pride, Patron," Jenassa replied, her crimson eyes gleaming with her usual, restrained humor. She nodded toward the heavy satchel at his waist. "I am well aware that you have already acquired several highly valuable items on this little excursion, an fire enchanted Dwarven Bow, a frost enchanted steel sword, and a rather vicious looking Orcish dagger, if my eyes did not deceive me when we cleared the upper halls. I am not petty enough to complain about what I do or do not receive. I am a patient woman, and I know you pay your debts."
Aerion laughed, a rich, metallic sound. "Your pragmatism is always refreshing, Jenassa."
With the loot distributed and the group's tension broken by the light exchange, Aerion gestured toward the far end of the chamber.
"Let us move. The air is growing heavier."
They climbed the wooden stairs to the second floor, passing through a heavy iron door that led deeper into the ancient complex.
The route beyond the Deathlord's chamber became noticeably more ancient, narrow, and saturated with latent magical energy. They moved slowly through the winding corridors and small, interconnected burial chambers.
Here, Tolfdir truly proved his immense value.
"Hold your steps, everyone," Tolfdir warned quietly, raising a hand as they approached a seemingly empty intersection.
The old mage squinted, his eyes tracking a faint, nearly invisible distortion in the air near the floorboards. Embedded directly into the stone were glowing, intricate magical runes, some burning with the crimson light of fire, others crackling with the blue energy of frost. They were highly volatile proximity mines left by the ancient enchanters.
Tolfdir did not attempt to disarm them by hand. He stood well back, raised his staff, and fired a rapid, low powered bolt of Flames directly at the center of the rune.
The rune violently detonated, sending a massive plume of fire rushing up to the ceiling, harmlessly burning itself out in the empty corridor.
"Fascinating triggers," Tolfdir murmured, writing a mental note in his academic ledger as he systematically cleared the path. "They rely on physical weight to complete the arcane circuit. Step carefully where the stone is scorched."
They advanced safely under the old master's meticulous guidance, eventually reaching a long, grand hallway decorated with massive, intricate Nordic reliefs carved directly into the stone walls on both sides.
At the far end of the hallway stood another sealed iron gate, complete with a central pulling lever. Flanking the gate were four rotating stone pillars, vastly older and more weathered than the first puzzle they had encountered.
Tolfdir stopped before the mechanism, his eyes scanning the heavily carved walls, before turning to the masked High Elf with a look of high expectation.
"Well, Aerion," Tolfdir asked, a slight smile on his face. "Do you have any idea how to solve this one? Your eyes were remarkably sharp in the first puzzle room. Do the carvings here offer the same straightforward guidance?"
Aerion chuckled softly, looking at the stone reliefs lining the hallway.
"I admit, Master Tolfdir, the carvings we just passed likely contain the answer," Aerion acknowledged.
He knew exactly what the solution was, and he knew exactly how the trap worked. This mechanism was infinitely more frustrating than the first. Turning certain pillars would cause the others to rotate simultaneously, a mechanical nightmare designed to confuse grave robbers. But he could not reveal that he already possessed the exact sequence. He had to act as though he was deducing it in real time alongside them.
Aerion walked up to the first pillar on the left.
"Let us see if the principle holds true," Aerion said aloud. He gripped the heavy stone and turned it one rotation to the left.
As the left pillar clicked into place, the pillar directly behind it on the right side of the room also ground loudly, rotating one turn on its own.
Aerion instantly stopped, taking a half step back and throwing his hands up in a theatrical, highly convincing display of total surprise.
"Fascinating," Aerion murmured, looking between the two pillars. "An interlocking mechanism. Turning the first pillar forces the secondary pillars to rotate through an underground gear system. It is designed to punish trial and error."
Lydia groaned softly. "I hate ancient Nords."
"It makes the solution exponentially more complex," Tolfdir noted, stroking his beard. "We must find the correct sequence of rotations that aligns all four pillars to their corresponding carvings simultaneously."
"Indeed," Aerion agreed, stepping back into the puzzle. "Let us experiment. Jenassa, keep an eye on the right flank while I adjust the left."
For the next two minutes, Aerion orchestrated a highly convincing, deliberate period of trial and error. He turned pillars in the wrong order, intentionally messing up the alignment, allowing Tolfdir and Jenassa to point out the corresponding errors, creating a genuine, collaborative effort to decipher the gears.
After a few "frustrated" attempts, Aerion acted as though the mathematical sequence had finally clicked in his mind.
"I see the pattern," Aerion announced, stepping to the back of the room. "The gears engage in a descending order of resistance. We must set them from back to front."
He moved with deliberate, final purpose.
First, he walked to the second pillar on the left and rotated it until the face of the Whale locked into place.
Next, he moved to the first pillar on the left, turning it until it displayed the Snake.
He crossed the hall to the second pillar on the right, rotating it to the Hawk.
Finally, he stepped to the first pillar on the right, turning it once. The heavy stone clicked, displaying the Whale.
All four pillars were perfectly aligned with the faded carvings on the walls behind them.
Aerion stepped to the center of the gate and pulled the heavy iron lever.
With a deep, satisfying groan of ancient machinery, the iron gate slowly rose into the ceiling. No poison darts fired. No fire erupted. The path was clear.
Tolfdir clapped his hands together quietly, immensely impressed.
"Outstanding, Aerion!" Tolfdir praised him. "To deduce the mechanical sequence of an interlocking gear system without dismantling the floor is nothing short of brilliant. You truly have a gift for antiquities."
"It is merely a matter of patience and pattern recognition, Master," Aerion replied, bowing his head to accept the praise.
They moved through the open gate, stepping into a small, dark antechamber.
Before Aerion could take a second step, Jenassa's hand shot out, gripping his heavy steel pauldron with surprising strength.
"Hold, Patron," Jenassa whispered sharply.
She pointed a dark, slender finger at the center of the stone floor. Barely visible in the dim light, slightly raised above the surrounding masonry, was a large, circular stone pressure plate.
"A physical trigger," Jenassa noted. "Likely wired to a collapsing ceiling or a spear trap. The mages left the magic to Tolfdir, but they left the physical traps to me."
Aerion looked down at the plate, genuinely appreciating her vigilance. He had been so focused on the impending discovery that he had nearly stepped blindly onto the trigger.
"You have the sharpest eyes in Skyrim, Jenassa," Aerion acknowledged gratefully. "Well spotted."
The group carefully hugged the walls, side-stepping the lethal pressure plate, before turning left and continuing down the final, descending passageway.
At the end of the corridor stood a massive, heavily reinforced iron door. It was covered in intricate, swirling runes that seemed to hum with a latent, overwhelming magical frequency.
Aerion pushed the heavy doors open.
They stepped out onto a wide, upper stone landing. A long, grand stone staircase descended before them, leading down into the upper level of the massive, cavernous central chamber they had caught glimpses of earlier in the excavation.
But as they looked out over the vast room, the architecture and the dead completely vanished from their minds.
Suspended in the absolute center of the colossal chamber, hovering weightlessly above a deep, dark chasm, was an object of unimaginable, terrifying beauty.
It was a massive, perfectly spherical orb. The surface of the sphere was etched with dense, shifting, glowing green runes that belonged to no known language on Nirn. It rotated slowly, silently on its axis, entirely unsupported by physical means. Surrounding the massive orb was a violent, swirling, semi translucent magical aura, a barrier of pure, crackling arcane energy that cast a brilliant, ethereal light across the dark stone walls of the cavern.
The sheer density of the magicka radiating from the object was physically oppressive. It made the air taste like ozone and static.
Tolfdir walked to the edge of the landing, his staff slipping slightly in his grip. The old master's jaw hung open, his watery eyes reflecting the brilliant, shifting green light of the sphere.
"By the Nine Divines..." Tolfdir whispered, his voice trembling with a mixture of absolute, academic ecstasy and profound, instinctual terror. "What... what is this? I have studied the arcane arts for many years, and I have never... I have never felt anything like this. It is beautiful. It is terrifying. It is... to powerful."
Lydia and Jenassa stood frozen in awe, the sheer scale of the magic completely dwarfing their martial understanding of the world.
Aerion stood on the landing, the green light reflecting off the cold bronze of Krosis's mask. He did not ask questions. He did not wonder what it was.
He knew exactly what was floating in the center of the room.
The Eye of Magnus.
They had reached the heart of the mystery beneath Saarthal. But as Aerion's golden eyes tracked the swirling, violent magical barrier protecting the artifact, he knew the truth.
The Eye was not unguarded. The magic pulsing in the room was acting as a battery, and the final, most lethal danger of the ancient capital was waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs.
Aerion led the group to the very edge of the upper stone walkway, their boots crunching softly on the ancient, frost rimed masonry.
From this elevated vantage point, they had a completely unobstructed view of the massive, cavernous chamber below.
The silence in the room was absolute, yet the air felt incredibly heavy, vibrating with a physical pressure that made the hairs on the back of Aerion's neck stand up.
Suspended in the dead center of the lower chamber, hovering weightlessly above the dark abyss, was the colossal, rotating sphere. The dense, shifting green runes etched across its surface cast an eerie, ethereal light that danced across the towering stone pillars and the shadowed alcoves. The violent, swirling magical barrier protecting the artifact hummed with a raw, crackling intensity that was almost deafening in the quiet crypt.
Tolfdir gripped the stone pillars on the walkway, his knuckles turning white. The elderly master mage, who had spent seven decades studying the subtle, intricate flows of magicka across Tamriel, looked physically unwell. His watery eyes were wide, and his breath came in short, shallow gasps as his arcane senses were completely overloaded.
"By the Eight..." Tolfdir whispered, his voice trembling violently. He turned his gaze toward the masked High Elf standing beside him. "Aerion... what in the name of Oblivion is that? The sheer... the absolute density of the magicka radiating from that sphere is staggering. It feels ancient, yet completely alien. It defies every fundamental principle of magical containment I have ever studied. What do you think this object is?"
Aerion looked down at the swirling green barrier. He knew exactly what it was. It was the Eye of Magnus, an artifact of such incomprehensible cosmic power that it could unravel the very fabric of reality if misused. It was the catalyst for the entire College of Winterhold questline.
But he could not reveal that knowledge. To do so would invite a level of academic scrutiny he could not afford to indulge. Aerion shook his head, the heavy bronze mask obscuring his golden eyes.
"I do not know, Master Tolfdir," Aerion answered smoothly, his metallic voice projecting a convincing mixture of awe and caution. "I meticulously reviewed every available record, scroll, and translation concerning the excavation of Saarthal in the past in the college. I assure you, there was absolutely no mention of an artifact of this magnitude, or this specific magical signature, in any of the College's archives."
It was the safest, most logical answer possible, entirely consistent with his persona as a meticulous scholar.
Before Tolfdir could formulate a hypothesis based on Aerion's answer, Jenassa's sharp, professional instincts shattered the academic quiet.
"Patron," Jenassa hissed softly, pointing a dark, leather clad finger down toward the shadows directly beneath their walkway, near the base of the central foundation. "We are not alone."
Aerion immediately snapped his gaze downward.
Sitting perfectly motionless upon a massive, carved stone throne at the far end of the lower chamber, bathed in the eerie green light of the sphere, was another Draugr.
The realization hit the group like a physical blow. The academic awe evaporated, instantly replaced by the cold, sharp adrenaline of impending combat.
Lydia drew her new ebony sword, the dark metal whispering against the leather scabbard, and raised her heavy ebony shield, dropping into a defensive crouch. Tolfdir stepped back from the railing, his hands immediately flaring with the golden, protective light of a Greater Ward.
Aerion reached over his shoulder, his steel gauntlets wrapping around the leather grip of his Ebony Greatsword. As he drew the massive weapon, he focused on the figure on the throne.
He didn't need to guess. He recognized the intricate, high ranking ancient Nordic armor, the specific curve of the war axe resting across its lap, and the devastating lightning staff resting against the stone armrest.
It was Jyrik Gauldurson. The eldest, most treacherous son of the legendary Archmage Gauldur from the First Era. He was the final boss of this sealed sector of Saarthal.
Aerion knew the mechanics of this fight flawlessly from his past life. Jyrik was tethered to the Eye of Magnus. As long as the sphere's protective, swirling magic remained active, the undead warlord was completely invulnerable to all physical and magical damage. He also knew that the only way to sever that tether was to disrupt the Eye's barrier using localized, continuous shock magic, specifically Sparks or Lightning Bolt.
But he could not simply bark the solution to his team. He had to orchestrate the discovery naturally.
"He is guarding the artifact," Aerion commanded, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceiling. "We take him down first. Move!"
They descended the heavy wooden stairs rapidly, fanning out as they reached the stone floor of the lower chamber.
As their boots hit the masonry, the ancient magic animating Jyrik Gauldurson flared to life. The Draugr's eyes ignited with a brilliant, piercing blue light. He rose from the stone throne with terrifying speed, entirely lacking the slow, shambling clumsiness of the lesser undead they had fought earlier. He gripped his ancient Nordic war axe in his right hand and hoisted the crackling Staff of Jyrik Gauldurson in his left.
With a guttural, echoing roar, Jyrik charged.
"Lydia, hold the center! Jenassa, flank!" Aerion ordered, surging forward to meet the undead commander.
Lydia braced her ebony shield. Jyrik swung his war axe in a brutal, overhead arc. The iron struck the volcanic glass with a deafening CLANG, the sheer kinetic force driving Lydia to one knee.
Jenassa darted in from the right, her ebony daggers flashing in the green light. She aimed a precise, lethal thrust directly at the exposed, unarmored gap in Jyrik's neck.
The dagger struck true, but it didn't pierce the dried flesh. A faint, almost invisible ripple of green energy flared across Jyrik's skin, completely absorbing the kinetic impact. The blade slid harmlessly off his neck as if it had struck solid diamond.
Aerion stepped into the opening, swinging his massive Ebony Greatsword in a devastating horizontal cleave aimed at Jyrik's midsection. The volcanic glass bit into the ancient armor, but again, the green energy flared. The greatsword bounced off the Draugr with a jarring, metallic shockwave that rattled Aerion's teeth.
"He's shielded!" Jenassa yelled, narrowly dodging a point-blank blast of lightning from Jyrik's staff.
Jyrik fought with disciplined, aggressive mastery. He wasn't a mindless zombie, he was a highly trained battlemage of the First Era. He used his war axe to keep Lydia and Aerion at bay, while simultaneously weaving intricate, devastating arcs of lightning from his staff, forcing the group to constantly retreat and reposition to avoid being electrocuted.
Aerion swung again, putting his entire, augmented weight behind the blow. The greatsword struck Jyrik's shoulder, and again, the green energy absorbed the impact completely. Not a single drop of dried blood was drawn.
From his elevated position on the walkway, Tolfdir rained down concentrated spheres of Sun Fire. The holy magic struck the Draugr squarely in the chest, but it simply fizzled and died against the invisible barrier.
"Our attacks are completely ineffective!" Lydia grunted, straining to hold her shield against a relentless flurry of axe strikes. "The magic isn't burning him!"
Aerion continued the desperate melee, intentionally allowing the confusion and frustration to build. He parried a heavy axe swing, stepping back to create distance.
"Master Tolfdir!" Aerion roared over the clash of steel. "Analyze his defenses! Why is the holy magic failing?"
Tolfdir stopped casting, his eyes narrowing as he closely observed the flow of magicka in the room. He watched as Jyrik absorbed another blow from Aerion's greatsword, noting the faint, green ripple of energy that flashed across the undead's skin. He then looked up at the massive, rotating sphere suspended in the center of the room.
The connection clicked in the old master's brilliant mind.
"The sphere!" Tolfdir shouted, his voice cracking with realization. "Aerion, look at the energy! The artifact is tethered to him! That swirling magical barrier around the sphere is actively supplying the Draugr with an impenetrable, localized protective field. As long as the artifact's aura remains stable, he cannot be harmed!"
"Brilliant observation, Master!" Aerion immediately praised him, loudly ensuring the entire group heard who was responsible for the tactical breakthrough. "We must disrupt the tether! We cannot defeat him while the artifact shields him!"
Aerion forcefully parried another lightning bolt from Jyrik's staff, the electrical discharge grounding harmlessly through his heavy steel boots.
"Lydia! Jenassa! Keep him occupied!" Aerion commanded, pivoting away from the undead commander. "Do not let him advance on the stairs! I will assist Master Tolfdir with the artifact!"
Lydia roared a battle cry, bashing Jyrik with her shield to draw his full, aggressive attention, while Jenassa rained a continuous volley of arrows to harass his movements.
Aerion sprinted toward the center of the chamber, stopping directly beneath the massive, rotating sphere. He looked up at the violent, swirling green barrier. He knew that fire would simply be absorbed, and frost would shatter against the kinetic energy. Only raw, unadulterated voltage could disrupt the delicate magical frequency of the tether.
Aerion raised his left hand, aiming his steel gauntlet directly at the swirling aura.
He tapped deep into his Destruction (Lightning) skill, funneling a massive, concentrated surge of magicka into his palm.
Sparks.
A continuous, jagged stream of pure, violet white electricity erupted from his hand, slamming directly into the swirling green barrier surrounding the Eye of Magnus.
The reaction was instantaneous and violent.
The electrical current clashed with the ancient, alien magicka. The green aura around the sphere began to violently destabilize, sputtering and shrinking under the continuous, high voltage assault. The harmonious, resonant hum of the artifact turned into a chaotic, grinding screech.
Across the room, Jyrik Gauldurson let out a sudden, furious roar. The faint green ripple of energy protecting his dried flesh flickered wildly, before completely winking out of existence.
"The barrier is down! The tether is broken!" Aerion shouted, dropping the spell and gripping his greatsword with both hands. "Strike now!"
Lydia didn't hesitate. She stepped into Jyrik's guard, swinging her ebony sword with brutal force. The blade connected with the Draugr's side, and this time, there was no magical resistance. The razor sharp volcanic glass bit deeply through the ancient armor and into the mummified flesh beneath, drawing a spray of thick, black, coagulated blood.
Jyrik shrieked in pain, stumbling backward.
Jenassa capitalized instantly. An arrow struck the Draugr squarely in the knee joint, crippling his mobility.
Aerion surged back into the melee, the heavy Nordic Carved plates turning him into an unstoppable juggernaut. With the protective barrier gone, the fight shifted from a desperate survival scenario to a brutally straightforward, highly lethal execution.
Jyrik fought fiercely, swinging his war axe with desperate strength, but he was outmatched. Lydia battered his defenses with her heavy shield, while Jenassa kept him blinded with a flurry of precise dagger strikes. But as the undead commander took a heavy blow from Aerion's greatsword, the green aura around the sphere suddenly flared back to life. The tether re established itself, and the protective energy washed back over Jyrik.
_____________________________
[Main Panel]
Name: Aerion
Race: High Elf (Altmer)
Health: 710/710 Stamina: 740/740 Magicka: 950/950
Level: 200
Skills: Animal Affinity (MAX LEVEL), Fast Skill Levelling (MAX LEVEL), Fast Magic Mastery (MAX LEVEL), Instant Shout (MAX LEVEL), Dragon Master (MAX LEVEL), Destruction (Fire(+4)/Lightning(+2)/Frost(+2)) (Level 73/91/70), Restoration (Healing(+2)/Purify(+2)) (Level 50/75), Alteration (Level 35), Illusion (Level 50), Conjuration (Necromancy/Summoning(+1)) (Level 37/90), Persuasion(+2) (Level 19), Smithing (Level 57), Sneak(+1) (Level 33), One Handed(+1) (Level 72), Two Handed (Level 81), Lockpicking (Level 35), Archery (Level 72), Enchanting(+1) (Level 2), Light Armor(+2) (Level 0), Block (Level 70), & Pickpocket (Level 8)
Shouts: Fus Roh Dah (Force Balance Push), Tiid (Time), Krii (Kill), Feim Zii Gron (Fade Spirit Bind), Su (Air), Laas (Life), Yol Toor (Fire Inferno), Kaan (Kyne), & Zul Mey Gut (Voice Fool Far)
[Inventory Panel]
1x Small Sack, Poacher's Axe, Mammoth Tusk, the Golden Claw, Calm Spellbook, Arvel's Journal, Inkwell & Quill, Thief Book, Scroll Of Summoning (Wolf), Scroll Of Healing, Weak Potion of Paralysis, Golden Staff of Flames, Parchment Rolls Of Mammoths Farm And Loan, Ebony Claw, Orcish Dagger, The Mirror, Ring of Pure Mixtures, Grand Soul Gem (Filled), Reanimate Corpse Tome, Staff of Lightning, Deed to Tundra Homestead, Sapphire, Ruby, Dawnbreaker, Traveling Backpack (Supplies), Potion of Minor Magicka, Vampire Armor, Vampire Boots, Movarth's Golden Ash (Unique), Dwarven Sword, Elven Dagger, Potion of Healing, Gold Emerald Circlet, Scroll of Fire Storm, Iron Garnet Circlet, Iron Sapphire Circlet, Grand Soul Gem (Filled), Glass Boots, Dwarven Sword, Dwarven Shield, Wuuthrad's Fragments, Staff of Fireball, Mage Boots Of Weight, & Master Robes Of Destruction
2x Common Soul Gem (Empty), Black Soul Gem (Empty), Elven Sword, Amethysts, Potions of Plentiful Magicka, Scroll of Conjure Familiar, & Scroll of Magelight
3x Glowing Mushrooms, Potions of Minor Stamina, Flawless Sapphires, Gold Necklace, Iron Necklace, Petty Soul Gem (Filled), & Potions of Minor Magicka
4x Spider Eggs, Garnets, & Common Soul Gem (Filled)
5x Lesser Soul Gem (Filled)
7x Vampires Dust
8x Iron Arrows & Ancient Nord Arrows
9x Potions Of Minor Healing
12x Black Soul Gem (Filled)
Weight: 92.41 KG / 670 KG
Septims: 81,082