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Bleak falls barrow puzzle


Bleak falls barrow puzzle

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is it fate, or blind faith?

According to archiveofourown.org, “You have a pep in your step today, my friend.” Inigo noted with a smile, giving Sian a slight nudge as they traipsed through the woods towards Ustengrav. She felt guilty and elated all at once.  Master Arngeir’s warning about corruption rang in her head like a fierce bell shrieking in her ears. She was not the snake in the grass, she couldn’t have been. Her father taught her to be kind, to be honest.  When Sian stayed silent, Inigo prodded her again. “Talk to me. I am your friend, Sian. You can tell me what is troubling you.” “That is the name the masked man told you, yes?” When Sian confirmed this with a nod, Inigo scratched his chin. Very seriously contemplating this new discovery. “The fear is good, yes.” He held up a blue finger when Sian opened her mouth to interrupt him. “If you were not afraid, there would be something wrong. But you are, and that is good. You have not been corrupted, my friend.” Even though his words were meant to be reassuring, Sian didn’t feel any kind of relief knowing that fearing herself could be considered as something good . But he was right, like he always managed to be. Miraak chased her through the forest, but it wasn’t her who was laughing in childish glee as she taunted him.  When Miraak’s hand closed around her hair and pulled her to the ground, the force of it alone had woken her up. Sian felt nauseous and sick, choking on her own bile as she tried to come to terms with the sudden outward manifestation of her dragon soul. Inigo’s hand curled around her arm to keep her from bumbling right into a battle. Ahead of them in a clearing were mages and bandits clashing, fighting over who got to raid the tomb underneath their feet. Sian sunk low into a crouch with Inigo.  “Do you want to fight them?” Inigo whispered, drawing his sword.  Sian glanced, watching a bandit spear a mage right through the stomach on her greatsword. She swallowed thickly and charged her hands with flames. She wondered, briefly, what it was like for the surviving bandits. Thinking that the battle was finally over, when suddenly a stream of flames blasted through the thicket. Sian wondered if the bandit had turned and looked, saw her and Inigo’s eyes glowing in the firelight.  Inigo slipped out between a gap in the undergrowth and charged at the bandit closest to him, while Sian tumbled after him. Her sleeves had caught fire, and as she patted the embers out urgently before a breton woman sliced her head off, she caught fear in the bandit’s eyes.  What was so scary about Sian? She could have been the least intimidating figure standing in the battlefield, hell , she even set herself on fire. She wasn’t the most formidable of foes. Sian would have been shaking in her boots as the bandit barreled towards her, if she had not faced two dragons already. She knew the meaning of terror, and a woman shorter than her in stature barely made the cut.  The bandit swung an axe at her, missing by a few inches as Sian remembered Inigo’s training and dipped backwards. She lashed out with her sword, but the bandit blocked her with the iron shield she carried.  A highly conductive material.  She dropped her sword and ducked underneath another swipe of that rusty axe, pressing her palm flat against the surface of the iron shield. Sian didn’t feel like herself when she looked up at the breton and bared her teeth in a roguish simper, and sent a bolt of lightning into the shield.  Sian took no joy in stripping the dead bandit’s body of valuables, wincing when a lingering spark shot off and connected with her fingers. Next time, she’d wait for the electrocuted corpse to stop undulating before touching it. She grimaced as she hooked the bandit’s axe to her belt, turning to find Inigo smearing blood across his scarred muzzle with a hint of disgust curling at his lips. And then her companion turned towards her with a smile, holding up something shiny in the dying sunlight. Inigo playfully swatted her arm away from his space, waving her on to follow him down a set of spiraling stairs that led to a carved stone door. Inigo held up the key.  “I bestow upon thee, O Great Dragonborn, the key to some dead guy’s mausoleum.”  Sian watched as he dropped it into her palm and bowed her head dramatically. “Many thanks, Molamer Inigo. Sunad to you and the many blue cubs you will have.”  Inigo was marvelous when it came to lightening the most dismal of moods, even though Sian’s hands were shaking as she unlocked the heavy stone door. She and Inigo had to push it open together, wincing at the grinding noise of stone upon stone.  It was reminiscent of how she felt when she first stepped foot into Whiterun. She felt outside of herself. Sian remembered her warped reflection in the mead, sitting by the hearth in Sigrid and Alvor’s hearth.  The fear of herself was supposed to be good, right? Then why didn’t Sian feel scared when she taunted the breton bandit with a sneer?  Inigo sheathed his weapon and removed his bow from his back, slotting three arrows against the string. Sian watched as he held the weapon horizontally and spread the arrows out to three points with his dexterous fingers, and then released them.  Each arrow hit its target perfectly. Right into the hearts of the novice necromancers lurking inside the chamber of the crypt.  Sian wrinkled her nose, but patted Inigo on the shoulder. “Well done.”  “This may be a test for you, my friend. But the Greybeards are certainly testing me.” Inigo hissed, wiping fragments of bone and withered flesh off the sleeve of his tunic.  Sian grunted in agreement. They were standing in front of a great iron door almost exactly like the one in Bleak Falls Barrow. They had just gone through puzzle after puzzle and even a floor that would shoot fire up at her if she stepped on the wrong tile. Sian thanked the Gods that she had the mind to pull her hair back, or else it may have been singed off.  “Here, read these symbols off to me.” Sian passed Inigo the claw shaped key they found on one of the mages, stepping close to shift the rings while Inigo directed her. “This horn better be worth it.” She sighed and stepped back as the door slid down into the ground, unhooking the axe from her belt. They stepped down into a chamber, lit dimly by enchanted braziers burning blue flames. There was a thin bridge leading to an intricately chiseled mantle, where the horn should have been sitting.  Sian felt apprehension wash over her as she paused on the final stair. “It’s not there.” She attached the axe back to her hip, hands shaking in panic and dismay. “The horn?” Inigo furrowed his brow. “Why would someon—“ Sian was already rushing down the promenade, nearly jumping out of her skin as statues began to rise from the water on either side of the bridgeway. She lunged for the note sitting neatly where the horn should have been, breaking the seal with her fingernail before tearing it open.  Sian crumpled the paper up in her palm, almost tempted to set it ablaze. Inigo took it from her and read it, and Sian watched anger cross his face.  Both of them, fuming.  All those puzzles, the topsy-turvy passages, the rigged tiles in the floor, all of it . Risking her and Inigo’s life for it all to come down to a stupid fucking note. A friend? Truly a friend? Sian’s upper lip pulled back in a silent snarl. Whoever this person was, she’d make them regret taking the horn and leaving a letter in return. Sian had slipped past urns full of ashes, fought skeletons and draugrs, her arm had been bleeding for the past hour and a half because of a poisoned arrow, and all she got out of Ustengrav was a piece of parchment.  They fumed all the way to the second chamber leading out of Ustengrav and when a draugr burst free from its crypt, Sian wasted no time in blasting it back into the coffin via fireball. When it tried to move, Sian yanked her axe off her belt and pinned the thing’s skull against the back of the crypt. It twitched, the shriveled hands reached for her, and then it fell limp.  They returned to Morthal somewhere close to dawn, but Sian and Inigo were too angry to rest or bother the sleeping innkeepers for a room. They sat outside in the damp cold on a bench, waiting for a carriage driver to pass by.  “It’s fucking ridiculous.” Sian snipped after a moment of heavy, tense silence. “How did they even get past all those traps? Did they go in the back way?”  “I do not know, my friend. But if they do not have the horn—“ Inigo drew in a large sigh. “One of us is going to have to hold the other back.” Sian snorted and crossed her arms over her chest, remembering the state of her coat. It had been a gift and now it was ruined. She was entirely at fault for the charring of her sleeves, but it felt good to blame it on this person who called themselves a friend. “I don’t think I’ll keep you from achieving your desires.”  Inigo grinned brightly despite the meaning of their words, nudging Sian’s knee with his. “I do not think I would either.”  Inigo paid the carriage fee with some septims he’d pocketed from the mausoleum, and they sat in a heavy, pregnant silence on the way to Whiterun. The carriage driver seemed to sense their dismal, angered mood and stayed silent for the entirety of the ride. Distantly, Sian felt guilty for icing out the kind carriage driver, but she was too preoccupied at the moment. They arrived at the tall and shining city around dusk, but their indignation had not simmered down in the slightest bit.  Riverwood was the most beautiful at dawn. When the sun crested the mountains surrounding the little village, it stained the sky pink and orange. Sian had never seen sunsets and sunrises like this in Solstheim, she’d never seen fluffy rose tinged clouds floating across the horizon at the behest of the breeze. The fresh air was intoxicating, the smell of running water against rocks, woodsmoke, tundra cotton and wildflowers came together to form the sweetest of perfumes. Sian wished she could bottle Riverwood’s mornings and keep them with her along her travels, and open them whenever she was feeling like the world was just too big, and she was just too small. She thought she might have had to reconsider her anger in the face of such beauty.  And then she remembered why she was in Riverwood in the first place. Sian stomped up the stairs to the inn with Inigo hot on her heels, sending the door slamming loudly against the wall. The same man she had seen nearly a fortnight ago behind the bar was busy setting tables with plates and silverware for breakfast, startling so horribly that he dropped the stack of plates he was holding.  Sian barely spared a thought towards the slightest hint of guilt. “I’d like the attic room.” She forced herself to smile and shed some of that wrath that had been bubbling up inside her for the last eight or so hours.  The man glanced down at the shattered mess of porcelain with a sigh, running a hand over his thinning hair. “Ye’d hafta talk tae Miss Delphine. She ain’t up yet, miss. An’ mind yer step, ye bout startled tha blood outta me.”  Everything inside of her that had been brewing hatred had seeped out of her pores in the instant that the man spoke. Sian watched him bend over to start picking up the bigger pieces of the shattered plates, and crouched down to help him. “I’m sorry.” She murmured.  The man shook his head. “Tha’s tha last time I use tha nice plates, near forgot about ruffians like ye slammin’ right through tha door.” He laughed as he stood, still shaking his head. “Ye might as well just wait here for a tidge, lass. Not even Miss Delphine coulda missed such a racket.”  Sian dumped the pieces into the man’s apron as he held it out for her, brushing her hands off on her pants with a shaky breath. Sian sat down at the bar, picking at her fingernails as Inigo surveyed the room with a wild lash of his tail before he sat down.  “I feel bad.” Sian leaned over to whisper, watching as his amber eyes turned onto her.  “That is okay, but do not feel bad about the horn. Your anger is justified. As is mine, my friend.” Inigo mumbled back, but his attention kept turning onto the closed door on their right.  Sian observed his ears flick towards the sounds coming from behind the door, and then flatten against his head as it opened.  A woman with a severe face stepped out. Her white-blonde hair was braided tightly back away from her face, and as soon as her icy blue eyes turned onto Sian they widened with recognition.  Sian knew those icy blues too, they belonged to the woman in Farengar’s office. Her fists clenched in the fabric of her tattered jacket, and she set her jaw as she slid off her stool. She stood to her full height as she approached the woman, towering over who she assumed to be Miss Delphine. Sian didn’t feel ashamed anymore, now that she came face to face with the thief. Her anger had returned at its fullest force.  “Attic room.” Sian hissed.  The woman looked nonplussed, just giving Sian a brutal once over before cracking a crooked smile. “We don’t have one, but there is something you might be interested in.” Delphine jerked her head and led Sian through the open door of what she assumed to be her bedroom.  Sian stepped through the threshold with Inigo right behind her.  “Your friend will have to stay outside.” Delphine gave Inigo that same withering stare, moving to close the door in her friend’s face. Sian pushed Delphine’s outreaching arm away. “No.”  Delphine scowled. “Fine.”  Inigo slammed the door shut and cast Sian a look as Delphine moved past him to lock it. “Private, are we?” He mused. Despite his tone, his tail was still flicking behind him in his indignation.  The pair watched the Nordic woman cross her room and open her wardrobe to press something inside of it. The false back swung open with a tiny wheeze, and Sian stalked after Delphine down the stairs into what looked like a madwoman’s office. Papers were pinned to the walls and connected by lengths of dyed yarn, documents upon documents were stacked precariously on the rickety wooden table that stood in the center of the discordant room. Journals rife with cypher keys laid open atop the large table, joined by a few empty bottles of mead and an ashtray. Straw dummies stuck with knives and arrows stood in a line across the back wall, on either side of the trio was an enchanting desk and an alchemy workbench. Sian raised her eyebrows. Delphine did not look like the type to be enchanting things and brewing potions. All sorts of artifacts littered the room, troll skulls, a canine that belonged to something big, and old books that looked unreadable judging by the fact that they had been slightly singed.  It was not the secret headquarters of someone who had their shit together.  Sian crossed her arms over her chest, feeling less angry and more sympathetic. This woman had dug through a crypt for some horn, just so she could get Sian’s attention. And then all pity had dissipated when Delphine opened her thin mouth.  “You can stop the broody teenager act now.”  Sian’s eyes narrowed into a death glare. “Give me the horn.”  Delphine rolled those icy blues and turned, throwing a huge horn behind her head at Sian.  She lunged for it before it hit the ground and turned it around in her hands. It wasn’t just some dusty old thing, it was magnificent. It was made out of a large bull’s horn, banded with rings of gold encrusted with smooth iridescent opals. She ran her fingers over the artful craftsmanship, turning the horn over in her hands a few times.  Truly, this had been the horn of Jurgen Windcaller. The artifact screamed of importance. Sian handed it to Inigo and gestured to her backpack, watching Delphine clasp her hands together.  “Now that I’ve helped you, it’s time to help me.” The Nord woman beamed, despite having thrown something incredibly valuable across the room, insulted them both and now she expected Sian to help her.  Sian waited for the punchline, but it never came.  Delphine pursed her lips. “Anyways—“  Sian instantly interrupted her. “I don’t have time for this.” “Then make time, elf. People are dying, and someone’s behind it.” Delphine sneered, and Sian felt Inigo reach for his sword where he was standing behind her. She made a small gesture with her hand to keep him from lunging at the Nord. Mostly because Sian wanted to do it herself.  “You want me to help you?” Sian enunciated each word carefully as she began a slow circle around Delphine, glancing down at her fingers as she ran them across the table top.  “Yes, I gave you the horn and in return— you’ll help me.”  Sian cracked a smile full of shards. “Okay.”  Delphine’s idea of help was more like Prove to me that you’re Dragonborn and I’ll let you in on my secret society thing I’ve got going on.  Sian was only in it so she could possibly kick the blonde off a cliff, but alas, none of the cliffs they had trekked across had been severe enough for Sian’s developing taste.  Inigo had barely questioned why they followed the Nordic woman all the way out to Kynesgrove, on empty stomachs and absolutely zero hours of sleep. Sian was hoping that he would, but he seemed distant today.  Perhaps it was the lack of sleep, lack of respect coming from Delphine, and the lack of food. They hadn’t thought to pack anything more than some venison jerky and cheese, which had been consumed at the speed of light on the way back from Morthal.  Delphine started to lead them up a sizable hill when a roar shrieked across the cloudy gray sky.  She knew that angered bellow anywhere, she heard it in her worst nightmares. The sun might have been covered by rain clouds, but it seemed a little darker all of a sudden. Sian whipped around and grabbed onto Inigo’s arm, pulling him into the undergrowth to hide. Delphine had the same idea, and Sian wanted to kick the woman out of her hiding spot.  That familiar fear—the kind that rooted her to the ground like creeping clusters— swallowed her whole where the earth couldn’t. Inigo wrapped a protective arm around Sian’s quivering shoulders. She’s gonna get us killed. I shouldn’t have come here, we should have been halfway to High Hrothgar by now. This is what I get for trying to get back at her. Oh Gods, oh father. I’m so sorry. I should have come home sooner.  The woman in the daisy-colored dress. The decapitated head. The boy standing in the face of death. The blood soaking Sian’s clothes and hair. The fractures in her chest.  Hin sil fen nahkip bahloki.  Sian seemed to be hyperventilating, due to the fact that Inigo had cupped a hand around her mouth to keep her from making too much noise as he dragged her backwards into the deeper parts of the thicket. She watched through blurry vision as Alduin landed on the dark earth, almost silently. Sian’s nails dug into Inigo’s arm where it had been braced around her stomach to keep her still as the Black Death began murmuring something in Dovahzul to the mound of earth.  She was shaking with terror, just waiting for that huge head to swivel around and find the three of them hiding like thieves. The air was charged with Delphine’s amazement, Inigo’s apprehension and Sian’s horror.  It was nearly silent, aside from the dragon’s prayer-like chants and the wind haunting the evergreens surrounding the clearing.  Just as soon as he had come, Alduin launched into the sky with a heavy beat of his wings. Delphine launched from the undergrowth as soon as the dragon was out of sight, approaching the crypt.  Sian pulled Inigo’s hand away from her mouth. “Wai—“  The earth cracked open. A skeletal talon gripped the stone edge of the earthen coffin, and the skeleton of a dragon unfolded itself from the depths. She pulled her sword off her belt and scrambled out after Delphine on hands and knees, racing forward to yank the woman back from the dragon’s line of fire and push her towards the tree line.  Sian watched as the dragon’s flesh began reforming in the dim light. It stretched, almost catlike, and let out a low rumble as its head turned towards her. It blinked slowly, and then bared its teeth as its chest began to glow.  She tumbled out of the way of a gout of frost and closed the distance between her and the dragon, still wheezing in the depths of her trepidity. She slid underneath the dragon’s chest and stabbed her sword right up into the armpit. Sian had noted the last time she’d encountered a dragon up close and personal that the joints barely had any sort of armoring besides a layer of thick cartilage-like scales.  It roared in painful fury and twisted its head underneath itself to snap at Sian. She yanked her sword out and scrambled farther underneath it.  Sian sliced open the softness of its stomach and gagged as a fountain of blood spouted from the wound and began soaking Sian in the thick, iron rich liquid.  She scrambled out from underneath the dragon before it could collapse, gasping raggedly as she tried to wipe the blood out of her eyes. Sian was on her knees, laying beside the corpse of a great beast. She was about to stand up when suddenly, the world fell away.  She’d never get used to experiencing a millennia of memories in such a short amount of time. It felt like her brain was a mush. Everything she knew was obsolete in the face of the advanced knowledge and nature of the dragons. Sian forced herself to stand. Her hands and feet had gone numb from the cold and the sticky blood had all but frozen to her bare skin. Inigo was quick to hold her up when she looked like her knees were about to buckle, giving her a quick once over.  Sian didn’t let him go just yet, however.  “You’re..” Delphine was amazed, studying her like she had grown another head. “I-I can’t believe it.” She stuttered. “It’s really you. You’re really the dragonborn.”  Sian wiped her mouth and gave Delphine a hard stare. “Was that good enough for you?”  “More than good enough!” She was excited, approaching the pair of them faster than Sian liked. Sian reached across Inigo’s waist and nabbed the dagger off his belt. She held it out, no longer shaking in anything but anger.  “You could have gotten us all killed. You endangered the lives of the townspeople, you endangered your own life.” Sian hissed through clenched teeth, taking a slow step towards the Nord woman. “My friend and I faced death many times in Ustengrav and came out with fucking nothing but your stupid little note.”  Delphine raised her hands in surrender. “If I hadn’t brought you here, these people would have been dead already.” She snapped. “It was the Greybeards who sent you on that wild goose chase.”  Sian growled and lunged forward, pinning the woman to the dirt. She held the knife to her throat. “ No.” She snapped, mere centimeters from Delphine’s lined face. “You did.”  The knife was knocked out of her hand and Delphine had hooked her thigh around the back of Sian’s leg, using the advantage to switch their positions. Delphine’s fist came down on Sian’s jaw, the other rearing back to aim for her cheek. Sian bit out a curse and grabbed handfuls of that white-blonde hair, yanking Delphine’s head towards hers as she leaned up to crack her skull against the woman’s nose. She pushed the Nord off of her and gave her a kick in the side for good measure.  Sian spat on the ground next to Delphine. “Fuck you. At least the Greybeards actually care about whether or not I live.”  Delphine was clutching her broken nose and glaring at Sian. “The order I am a part of has protected Dragonborns for generations.”  “Oh! Now you’re in the sharing mood, huh?” Sian aimed another kick at Delphine’s side but a large hand grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back. She was about to smack Inigo’s hand away when she caught a look in his eye that made her freeze.  Sian smeared her sleeve across her nose and sniffed. “You ran out after that dragon like an idiot. Some protector you are.”  “At least I wasn’t cowering in the bushes.” Delphine retorted.  Sian roared, struggling against Inigo’s grip as she tried to lunge for Delphine again. He had his arms wrapped around her middle again, lifting her off the ground so she wouldn’t be able to find purchase. “ Fuck you!” She snarled. “ You don’t know what I’ve seen! You don’t know what it’s like!”  “Talk to me when you’ve calmed down, dragonborn .” Delphine stood up and dusted herself off, still holding her broken nose in her hand. She stalked off down the path, and Inigo held Sian until she calmed down enough.  Or until he thought she calmed down, because as soon as her feet hit the ground she was running towards Delphine. Inigo caught her around the hood of her jacket, sending her straight on her ass as her legs came out from under her with the force of the jerk.  Sian turned to scowl at Inigo, feeling like a scolded child.  He crouched down to her level and offered her a healing potion for the bruise on her jaw and the scrapes she’d gotten from fighting the dragon. She waved him away and pressed a hand to her face, willing away the anger in order to conjure up a healing spell.  “You know that she was right, my friend.” Inigo stood and held his hand out to pull Sian up off the ground. She huffed.  Delphine had been right to bring Sian to Kynesgrove, even if the nord woman doubted Sian’s legitimacy. The slimmest chance may have been better than nothing.  She didn’t reply.  They began down the hill, towards the tiny inn in the center of the small town. It was only when they were inside that Sian spoke. “I’m sorry.”  Inigo was mid-sip of his Black-Briar mead. His ears swiveled towards her, perked up in surprise. He swallowed and licked his chops. “Why are you apologizing?”  Inigo pondered this in the reflection of himself in his goblet for a moment. “Because if I had not, then you would have gone too far. Delphine may not be the… eh, nicest of people. But she does not deserve to be attacked from behind.” Inigo chuckled. “That is reserved for bandits and walking corpses, my friend.”  Sian tried to smile, she really did. But she was wearing a thick layer of crusted dragon blood and her mind was still spinning from the lifetime she had just experienced. She managed the smallest upturning of the corners of her mouth and downed the rest of her wine. Sian beheld her empty tankard with a small amount of disappointment. It wasn’t strong enough. “I think I might be becoming an alcoholic.”  Inigo snorted and clapped her on the shoulder. “You are far from it, my friend.”  They ate in companionable silence. Mashed potatoes and grilled chicken breasts, even though Sian felt like throwing up after the meal. The innkeeper’s wife was nice enough to draw her a bath in her rented room so Sian could wash away the dirt and grime, and she found herself sitting in a wooden tub with suds covering whatever portion of her skin and hair that wasn’t submerged in the steaming water. The inn might have been small, but it was the first one she’d come across where she could actually bathe.  She wrinkled her nose. The nords of Skyrim probably never really took baths, if wash basins were scarce. Sian scrubbed her hands through her hair and dipped herself underwater, squeezing her eyes shut. All she could see was the life of the dragon pouring out in front of her mind’s eye. The dragon had been a mother, at some point. Her hatchlings were hunted for sport by a group of young men looking for amusement, and she had killed five humans for every life taken of her own children.  Twenty-six. The agony she had felt as that dragon was unbearable. The mourning was constant and even as she slept underground for centuries, all she could do was weep for her hatchlings.  Sian arose when her lungs started to scream for air, inhaling slowly through her mouth as she surfaced. The mother dragon had been one of the few uninterested in burning down cities and homes, terrorizing civilians and taking off with their livestock. She lived and raised her children in a cave somewhere in the deepest parts of the mountain ranges.  She had taken a chance, her mate was away but her hatchlings were hungry. A short hunt wouldn’t hurt, wouldn’t it? The mother dragon had returned to her home, finding her children slaughtered, mutilated, and dismembered. That night, the sky rained fire and floods washed away cities.  Sian blinked away the memory along with the water out of her eyes and dipped her head back into the vat of cooling water to rinse the rest of her hair out. She stood up and dried herself off, tossing on a set of clean-ish clothes before climbing into the small single bed in the farthest corner of the room away from the door.  Pulling the covers up over her shoulder, she settled in with a slight shiver. Dragons may have been cruel, but the two she had lived through had only wanted peaceful lives. Sian rolled over and sighed through her nose, tucking the woolen quilts closer to her body. There was the issue of Miraak. He would be in her dreams again, and Sian was a little less afraid and more annoyed at the fact that she hadn’t gotten a good night’s rest since she was at High Hrothgar. If she encountered Miraak, she wouldn’t talk to him. Even if she felt drawn to him, she promised herself she wouldn’t even spare the man a glance.  However, she had the feeling he’d want to do more than just talk.

Captain Christy

According to theatlantic.com, His deep chant filled the house: — The squealing wheel of Zwinglius Turner’s barrow, piercing the town … his cheer cut short, falls beside his friend in the moment of victory.

From source: wikipedia.org however began to decline with the publication of Bleak House in 1852–53. Philip Collins calls Bleak House ‘a crucial item in the history of Dickens’s…

From source: wikipedia.org own price to keep Gomez from talking further. Family mentioned: Cousin Bleak (who had a middle eye that drooped), Morticia’s Cousin Curdle (implied to…

@themillennialmirror01062022

According to the source from screenrant.com, To solve the cryptic door puzzle in Bleak Falls Barrow, Skyrim players will need to open their inventory and press the button/key to “inspect” the Golden Claw. This action allows the object to be turned and spun in any direction, granting a better aspect of its details. Carved on the claw are three animals: a bear, a moth, and an owl.

Sharing a hint from gamerant.com, The first kind of Skyrim puzzle that players will encounter in Bleak Falls Barrow involves rotating pillars, which will remain a staple of Nordic ruins throughout the rest of the game. Fortunately,…

If you read from thegamer.com, After completing the first two quests, you will begin Bleak Falls Barrow. The Bleak Falls Barrow quest tasks you with entering a Nordic tomb of the same name to retrieve the Dragonstone. In this guide, we are going to go over how to complete this quest, as well as what the rewards are. First, let’s go over the two prerequisite quests to …

It is inferred from eurogamer.net, Bleak Falls Barrow dungeon walkthrough Stone tablet puzzle After the opening camp fire, follow the tunnels until you reach a room with a lone Bandit, a lever and a series of rotatable stones with…

A post published in elderscrolls.fandom.com, Bleak Falls Barrow is a quest available in The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim. Farengar Secret-Fire tasks the Dragonborn to retrieve the Dragonstone inside Bleak Falls Barrow, leading to the first finding of a Word Wall . Background Jarl Balgruuf thinks I may be able to help Farengar, his court wizard, with something related to the dragons. Objectives

It is learnt from a blog ign.com, This mini-puzzle requires you to flip the three pillars on the left side to match the correct sequence of the pillars displayed above the gate. The pillar in the middle has fallen to the ground…

It is understood from sites like en.uesp.net, When you find his body, loot the golden claw and, for a bit of help on how to solve upcoming puzzles in the barrow, his journal. When you claim the claw, you will receive a quest update for the corresponding quest, and will be told to discover the ‘secret of Bleak Falls Barrow’. Proceed forward and kill the three draugr in the next room.

Source: elderscrolls.fandom.com, The first section of Bleak Falls Barrow that is encountered is known as Bleak Falls Temple. This is an underground-style dungeon rather than the normal ancient Nord style of dungeon. There is also an inner section, Bleak Falls Sanctum, which is blocked by a Nordic puzzle door that only the Golden Claw can open, after the puzzle is solved.

I had gone through en.uesp.net, Bleak Falls Barrow Exterior An unmarked location called Bleak Falls Tower can be found along the path to the barrow from Riverwood. It is home to three leveled bandits who will attack if you approach too closely, and contains a medium coin purse inside on the lower level and a chest on the top level.

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