Olaffsen's Journey Through Rannveig's Fast Temple Nendir Olaffsen braced himself for what was inside. He tugged at the shiny buckle on his green cloak, and gave a comforting but encouraging look at his loyal wolf companion Varg. After a short second of baited breath, and a glance round at the grey hue in the long stretch of sky above him, a short prayer to Talos was in order to keep him safe from the horrors which lurked deep within the tomb of Rannveig's Fast. He paused, and pushed open the vast cold metal double doors of the ancient tomb. He scanned the musty crypt-like tomb for signs of movement. He hesitated at the rustle of leafy green vegetation by the cold stone flooring at any possible movement. He drew Shadowseeker, his bow, from his back and and fingered the gentle strings which seem to hum like elven song beneath his gloved fingers. He pushed on, through the whistle of falling leaves through open tomb ceiling above him, past the old crooked pillars which shimmered at a glance through the mist and darkness down the stoney slope. He came faced with a long, wide archway boarded with long, thick planks of firewood and nailed debris, for the path left of the boarded archway was blocked, Olaff proceeded right, Varg at his side constantly, a look of hesitant but hungry expression donned on his whiskered face. Nendir was unsure of the route ahead, of which lay only one, he whisked past the corner at his own risk wishing all the while he was at the mead table of the Bannered Mare, soft, crisp Nord mead and the song of Mikael, his bardic ways. Nendir shook the thought and pressed here, for Mikael would be far more useless than his loyal Varg in a deathly hallowed crypt such as this. But, as Nendir had passed the corner, a shimmer of silvered glow whispered past behind a pillar. A ghost, Nendir thought. No daedra shall be befallen in the depths of Rannveig, only shimmers of souls would rest here to pursue the hordes of adventurers and hunters that would have no doubt passed this very same path twice in which Olaff was navigating through sheer curiosity and sense of excitement. As the ghost wavered past the pillar and round, drawing his ethreal battleaxe upon the sight of such intrusion, he was cut short of explanation of how he did not want to hurt Olaff and he was possessed to do so unless he so intruded stepped any further by the gently released ebony arrow of Nendir's quiver, which sung through the air and pierced the eathreal figure's leg; which then happened to crumple to the cold stoney floor in a mist of white ashes and hues, a colourful expedition of death which seemed to demonstate the change of solid to ash in a matter of seconds. Olaff was suprised but not guilty of such a painless execution to the soul. Continue Nendir's story through Rannveig's Fast by reading "Olaffsen's Journey through Rannveig's Fast PART II" in this short series of Olaffsen Adventures.
