While the others remained behind so the barrow could air out, Daro’Vasora stepped into the dark mouth of the underworld and gave herself a few moments once shrouded in the dark to let her eyes adjust; one didn’t simply fumble around blindly for several moments too many in a place like this. With her gear snug and fastened to her lithe frame, the Khajiit moved forward, slightly hunched over as a reflex from years navigating entirely too tight places. It only took a few times to bash your head off an unseen outcropping to begin to exercise caution, even if the ceiling is much higher than you are. And with one leather sole in front of the other, Daro’Vasora stepped forward to do her duties and prove that she was worth every Septim she’d be pulling in from this job. 

The corridor was angled much steeper than she had anticipated from prior experiences in Nord ruins, eventually making several hard turns. This is where one had to be careful; tripwires and pressure plates were often lurking just out of sight when you round corners, and the Khajiit moved meticulously forward, keeping an eye on stones that looked out of place, cracks that were darker than the others, lengths of wire that were concealed just at ankle height. How the Draugr ever navigated these corridors and never stumbled across the traps in hundreds of years either spoke to some higher intelligence in their macabre undead skulls or a routine that was so deeply ingrained that it managed to navigate the same corridors to a precise step after another. Perhaps some scholar should take a look into it, the Khajiit thought. She didn’t want to spend any more time than she had to around the creepy bastards. 

Before long, the first pressure plate came into sight, extremely obvious for those who knew what to look for. Taking a few of the leaves she’d gathered before heading into the barrow, she set them gingerly across each end to show the extent of the trap before carefully stepping around it, taking notice of the dark recess nearby that housed the blades that were still under extreme tension and ready to come crashing down when the mechanism was tripped. It was utterly incredible to think that after so long and exposure to time that these surprisingly sophisticated death traps were still capable of functioning like when they were installed. It wasn’t Dwemer level of ingenuity, but it still impressed. Having marked the first of the traps, Daro’Vasora continued on, each step a cautious one as she reflected on the people waiting for her above. Normally she worked alone, but this wasn’t exactly a rare occurrence for her. Doubtless she’d be distrusted by most for being what she was, an inescapable thing of her birth, and whereas normally she’d pocket valuables she found along the way, Daro’Vasora would lay whatever she found outside of their containers for others to pick away at, cementing her claim for something she actually wanted later on. In her experience, giving a little could get you a lot later, and besides that, one didn’t fill their pack with mediocre finds that could be used by something exquisite, like one of those gemstone dragon claws she’d been reading about, or something that was owned by some ancient hero that the right people would pay absurdly high coin for. The bone rolled between her teeth in anticipation; something in this musty old hole would be worth her while, she was sure of it. She’d just be sure to ask Hector permission first; she doubted he knew where to sell off rare artifacts for the appropriate buyers, but she’d been surprised before. He was organizing a group of treasure hunters, after all. There was more to her client than she gave credit for, she thought. After the simple gesture of kindness and trust, one that obviously wasn’t shared by Sjara, she wanted to do right by him. Mutual gestures of appreciation tended to harvest a very productive working relationship, and the Khajiit learned to appreciate people who looked past her race and took her at her word. Trust was a rare commodity in this strange world.

Eventually she came across an open chamber and resisted the urge to stretch out and take advantage of the wider space. It took a moment for her eyes to register the stone caskets lining the walls, and it didn’t take one with any sort of imagination to know what they contained. [I]It is fine, Daro’Vasora; they are asleep and as long as you mark everything suspicious, you will not have to face them.[/I] she thought, feeling a sudden chill as she rubbed her hands up and down her arms nervously. The undead were one of the few things that truly bothered Daro’Vasora, and while she’d been able to start subconsciously profiling the Draugr as ugly magical beings, there was still an unsettling presence about her that made her deeply uncomfortable and the tendrils of fear trickle in through the back of her mind, threatening to snatch her self-control from her. It was a fear she could work through, one driven more by training and experience rather than total instinct, but one had to often face what scared them to prosper in this line of work. Breathing deeply and counting silently down from ten, the Khajiit calmed her nerves enough and focused on the task at hand; finding the traps that were surely hidden around this room. With a forced step forward, she began her meticulous work.

It had only been a few minutes before the rest of the party arrived that Daro’Vasora had allowed herself a breather by the large ornate door that she noticed the incredible dragon carving high into the ceiling. She’d been so focused on the ground; she hadn’t taken the opportunity to look up. When a magelight sailed silently into the opening, it allowed her a clear view of it, making her wonder if she’d ever find an intact dragon skull; it would be one of her finest discoveries, and maybe even one she’d keep… if she found a way to transport it home. As the others began following her markers, Daro’Vasora’s tail flicked nervously, as each clumsy footfall was not as careful and controlled as her own. The Bosmer was about the only one she trusted to be careful with her steps, but to her relief, the first of the party eventually made it across the chamber, and she allowed herself a sigh of relief and a slight smile when Hector approached, and she was surprised and flattered to be offered the handshake; a genuine sign of respect. She took his hand, so smooth and alien compared to her own, and felt a kinship with the man already. She was right to listen to his adventure pitch and agree it would be worth assigning her talents to.

The warm feeling suddenly sucked out of her chest like a vacuum when the thunderous booms of the heavy stone lids began to spring off their housing and the Draugr began to pour out of their tombs; Daro’Vasora found her limbs beginning to tremble subtly and her fur sticking up at the nape of her neck. This was exactly what she had hoped to avoid, and would have if she’d been doing this alone. 

The Draugr still resembled their mortal Nord forms, and it was easy to imagine who they were when they were sealed away by Dragon Priests of old, and it just made their gaunt, wrinkled skin and glowing cyan eyes that much more unnerving; the humanity that made them recognizable was nothing more than a stain on their ghoulish façade, and whatever was left had been robbed from them so long ago. Now something of malice and hate lumbered forward with impossible dexterity, and they would be upon the living without remorse or compassion. A hiss escaped between the Khajiit’s clenched teeth, one she hoped sounded fierce as she found her mace upon her hip and pulled it free, a comforting friend in her hand. 

“Stay calm, stay together,” Hector’s voice called to the others, an impossible calm considering the situation. It helped braced Daro’Vasora’s nerves, and she allowed herself to breathe. [I]This one is not alone. She has fighters. This is why they are here, yes?[/I] she thought to herself, mentally speaking in her native manner, one she tried to hide from others who would only take it as an opportunity to slander her trustworthiness further. The Draugr approached, and soon, they were upon the group.

Brandishing her weapon and letting out a cry, the Draugr closest to the Khajiit approached, an old shitty axe in hand. Even if it weren’t sharp, it would be capable of crunching bone and tearing skin if it made purchase. It swung at her, which she ducked under, her mortal body far more limber and swift than the dead, and she brought her mace as hard as she could manage with both hands, shattering the exposed and body kneecap with a ferocious blow that caused the Draugr to collapse onto its side, suddenly finding itself unable to balance but without the accompanying cry of pain that the living would have. With a final shudder, the Khajiit shouted once more as she brought her mace overhead and brought it down hard into the damned thing’s face, caving it in, its mockery of feminine features disappearing as it gave way to the heavy steel weapon’s mass, bone cracking loudly. In moments, that threat was gone, but there were still many more, including the big one.

[I]This one is not foolish enough to try and risk that.[/I] she thought, staring disbelieving at how much larger it was than the others.