I decided to step outside today. Maybe I won’t ever again after today either. This Skyrim is dangerous. She’s a vicious, teasing land who pulls you in with curiosity and spits you out a coward.
The local merchant had a break-in last night and the thieves stole a golden claw. I decided to help the poor man out.
Little did I know I’d be delving into a Nordic tomb. I found the thief (and the claw) and he had a journal on him. It said something about the “answer being in the palm of my hand.”
Deeper into the barrow, I had to ward off draugr! Luckily, most of them were hacked down by their own traps, which saved me arrows for the final draugr in the last cavern of the tomb.
When I approached the door the claw was supposed to be the key for, I was thoroughly confused. There were three rotatable rings, each with an emblem: an owl, a bear, and a moth.
I was in that room for hours before I finally understood Arvel’s journal entry. I turned the claw over, and it too bore the same markings, in this order: a bear, a moth, and an owl. Once I spun the rings into the correct order, the door lowered, and I entered a large cavern, featuring a tall wall with ancient dragon language engraved on it.
I don’t know what happened in that barrow. I absorbed some kind of magic, or power, or knowledge, or something from that wall, and on top of defeating a draugr overlord, I found some ancient stone with lots of dots on it. There’s still much I don’t understand about Skyrim, it seems.
On the bright side, Lucan Valerius was so relieved to have his claw back, that he paid me 500 septims.