Sharazi stooped and listened intently for any further noises. Nothing except a steady dripping of water and the wind blowing amongst the ruins she now stood. It’d been easy to sneak upon these Brigands. Like most she had ever encountered they were poorly armed and poorly trained. She had managed to creep close whilst they argued and then it was over. One shot with a crossbow and before the other had even time to draw his weapon, she was on him. A good solid crack with the crossbow and a follow through with that orcish dagger she’d acquired did the job. Two dead cut throats nobody was going to miss.
Now the real work started though. Ahead of her, on the far wall of the large chamber she stood was a tunnel. Large cobwebs brushed over the entrance and Sharazi gave a shiver as to what monstrosity of a spider had made them. She had encountered one of the spiders native to Skyrim before, a big scuttling thing that shot a globule of rancid smelling goo that could freeze you to the core if it got you.
As she edged closer to the mouth of the tunnel Sharazi was beginning to regret agreeing to help this Jarl of Whiterun. She couldn’t help but think your province, your Dragon problem. After everything that had happened since she had stupidly decided to set foot in Skyrim. It was the kindness given to her by the people of Riverwood and the welcome she got from the patrons of the “Drunken Huntsman” in Whiterun that made Sharazi decide to help the Jarl if she could.
Now walking forwards till she stood right at the tunnel entrance, she swept her lit torch up and held it in front of her. The pitch blackness retreating back from the hungry flame. With one quick glance around her to make sure there really were no more brigands lurking she took a deep breath and stepped into the musty, dank tunnel.