TheMaiaNightmareMoon

Tharstan could hardly believe his eyes as Vahlok the Jailer emerged from his hidden tomb. He was truly ancient history given life! Vahlok's expression of wonder and joy at the outside world quickly turned into one of dismay. The once lush forests were dying! “What has befallen my island?” He whispered, hoarse voice filled with sorrow. Viintaas's gaze fell and Tharstan grew solemn. “The Red Mountain erupted approximately two centuries ago and has been spewing ash ever since. But the Skaal people endure despite hardship.” Vahlok's undead orbs flickered in deep thought. Viintaas keenly discerned his fellow Dovahkiin's conflicting emotions. The Guardian was proud of the indomitable spirit of his people, yet remorseful that he had been unable to protect them. The young Nord's voice was sincere, his expression earnest. “You had been dead for millennia by that time, Vahlok. There was absolutely nothing you could have done.” The ancient lich was taken aback at being read so clearly.

Viintaas inhaled sharply at the sheer size of the tomb’s massive final chamber. The floor was covered with dubious looking stone tiles and a lone ebony coffin sat before the elevated word wall on the far side. Despite himself, he felt his hopes rising. Surely the dragon priest known as the Guardian would listen to his plea. He had to. Viintaas was uncertain who else he would turn to otherwise. As he waited for Tharstan to catch up, his mind wandered over the unusual puzzles throughout the elaborate tomb. He had never seen magical bridges that were still so strong and responsive after millennia. In fact, he had never seen such ethereal paths before at all! The Word Walls had called unto his curious dragon’s soul with an allure more intense than any others he had yet encountered. Even so, it was the three plaques that had intrigued him most. A sacrifice will bring you closer to that which you seek. A clue on how to access the deeper parts of the ornate memorial, but perhaps also a