Aerion's heart pounded, but his mind was cold and calculating. He didn't have time to use the dual wielding mace and magic just yet. The archer was the first priority. He had to use the terrain to his advantage. He dodged behind a large, wooden crate just as the first arrow whizzed past his head, burying itself in the wood with a loud thunk.
The Orc was the first to reach him, swinging his massive two handed sword in a wide, sweeping arc. Aerion, his new found One Handed skill giving him an instinctive understanding of the blade's trajectory, parried the blow with his iron mace.
The impact jarred his arm, but he held his ground. He sidestepped the next swing and thrust a small burst of fire from his free hand at the Orc's chest, a quick, harassing attack. The Orc grunted, his iron armor protecting him, but the sudden heat made him flinch.
As the Orc was momentarily distracted, the Nord with the axe and shield charged in, the heavy shield raised defensively. Aerion raised his mace, blocking a brutal blow from the axe, the metal scraping with a high pitched whine. He could feel the brute force of the attack, a sharp pain in his arm as his stamina was drained. He had to act fast.
He pushed the Nord back, creating a brief window of opportunity. He raised his left hand, focusing his magicka. No more small bursts. Time for the big guns, he thought.
He visualized a compressed, explosive ball of fire. The magicka flowed out of him, coalescing in his palm. The air around him shimmered as a glowing, fiery orb formed. He hurled the Fireball at the Nord's feet.
The fireball detonated with a concussive force, sending a wave of heat and shrapnel outward. The Nord was thrown backward, his shield flying from his grasp, his legs and chest scorched by the explosion. The Orc also stumbled, his armor singed from the blast.
Suddenly, a sharp pain lanced through Aerion's shoulder. He cried out, the pain a searing hot point in his body. An arrow, a simple iron arrow, had grazed his shoulder, tearing through his robes and breaking skin. He glanced up and saw the archer, already nocking another arrow to his bow. He needed to deal with him, and fast.
He dodged behind another stack of crates, the second arrow hitting the wood where he had been a moment before. He took a quick look at his health bar. It had gone down slightly, a visible indication of the physical pain he felt. He had to finish this quickly.
He switched his tactics. The one handed mace was great for defense and opening a fight, but his real power was his magic.
He dropped the iron mace. It clattered to the ground, no longer needed. With both hands now free, he entered into a dual wielding stance, his left palm glowing with fire and his right with crackling lightning. The Breton, seeing his chance, charged him, sword held high.
"Die, you bastard!" the Breton screamed.
Aerion met the charge with a volley of dual handed magic. From his right hand, a stream of lightning shot out, a constant, focused beam that slammed into the Breton's chest. The man screamed as the electricity coursed through him, his body convulsing violently.
At the same time, from his left hand, a continuous torrent of fire roared forth, burning away the Breton's leather armor and causing him to stumble. The combined assault was too much. The Breton fell, his body twitching and smoking.
[Your Destruction (Fire) skill has increased to Level 17!]
[Your Destruction (Lightning) skill has increased to Level 18!]
Aerion didn't stop. He turned his attention to the Orc, who was now fully recovered and charging toward him, his massive sword swinging. Aerion unleashed another dual handed attack, a concentrated burst of fire and lightning.
The Orc, a powerful foe, took the brunt of the assault, his thick hide and armor protecting him from the worst of it, but the magical barrage was relentless. As the fight raged, Aerion could feel his skills improving, the constant use of magic making him more proficient. His control over the raw elements grew, the fire burning hotter and the lightning striking faster.
Suddenly, a small, furry blur shot past the Orc's feet. It was Lupin, true to his word. He bit at the Orc's ankles, a quick, distracting feint that caused the Orc to momentarily lose his balance. It was all the time Aerion needed.
He poured more magicka into his spells, the twin streams of fire and lightning intensifying. The Orc roared in pain, his greatsword clattering to the ground as he was overwhelmed. He fell, a smoking, twitching heap, his resistance finally broken.
[Your Destruction (Fire) skill has increased to Level 18!]
[Your Destruction (Lightning) skill has increased to Level 19!]
Aerion, with the Orc now defeated, didn't let up. He turned his attention to the archer on the watchtower. He took a deep breath, and with a focused thought, he let loose a powerful, concentrated bolt of lightning.
The Lightning Bolt shot out from his hand, a blue, hot spear of electricity that streaked through the air and slammed into the archer. The man screamed, a high, pained sound, as the bolt hit him, his body lurching backward off the tower. He fell with a sickening thud, a silent, crumpled figure in the dirt.
[Your Destruction (Lightning) skill has increased to Level 20!]
The last of the bandits, the wounded Nord from the fireball, was now trying to crawl away. Aerion, his face a mask of cold resolve, walked over to him. The Nord looked up at him with terror in his eyes. He didn't even get a chance to plead. Aerion put a final, small burst of fire on his chest, ending his misery.
[Your Destruction (Fire) skill has increased to Level 19!]
He stood in the middle of the camp, his new robes singed in a few places, a faint trickle of blood running down his shoulder from the arrow wound. His heart was still racing, his hands were trembling, but the fight was over. He had won.
The ground was littered with the bodies of the bandits. His skills had leveled up several times, the notifications appearing in a flurry in his mind's eye, but he was too focused on the immediate aftermath to pay them much attention.
He was a low level character who had just taken down a full bandit camp, and he had done it with a combination of stealth, brute force, magic, and a little help from his friend. He was alive, but he had a painful reminder of the dangers of this world.
This wasn't a game where he could reload a save. This was real.
Lupin trotted out from behind a building, nudging his leg with a worried yip. Aerion knelt down, hissing in pain from the wound in his shoulder. He patted Lupin on the head. "I'm okay, buddy," he said, his voice a little shaky. "Just... a scratch."
He looked at the bodies around him, his mind already shifting from the chaos of battle to the cold logic of a gamer. The acrid smell of burnt flesh and ozone hangs in the air.
A low groan of annoyance escaped his lips as he looked down at the cut in his new Master Robes of Destruction. The iron arrow had left a nasty tear, a stark reminder of his mortality, a physical wound in his digital paradise.
The pain in his shoulder, though a minor graze, was real, a constant, burning sensation that he could not ignore. But he knew how to fix it. He had a skill in mind which could heal him, but he needed to gain the skill first.
So he closed his eyes, focusing inward, pushing aside the annoyance and the pain. He directed his magicka to his right palm, holding it over the arrow wound.
Instead of the cold, crackling energy of lightning or the intense heat of fire, he focused on a different kind of sensation, warmth. A gentle, soothing warmth. He visualized the spell he knew from the game, the simple but essential Healing Hands.
For a moment, nothing happened. He felt the magicka pooling in his palm, but it wasn't transforming. He pushed harder, focusing on the concept of restoration, of mending and fixing. And then, a change. The warmth shifted, becoming a soft, golden yellow light that poured from his hand and enveloped the wound.
He opened his eyes, a small gasp escaping his lips as he watched the torn flesh and his tattered robe mend themselves. The pain vanished instantly, the skin becoming smooth and whole. The robe, too, was now completely repaired, the tear gone without a trace, a big surprise to him as he didn't expect it to fix his clothes as well.
A notification, a triumphant chime only he could hear, immediately followed.
[Skill Unlocked: Restoration (Healing) (Level 1)!]
[Description: The ability to mend wounds, soothe pain, and bring an end to a bad day. You can be a battlefield medic, a compassionate healer, or just a guy who fixes his own boo boos. Pretty handy, right?]
[Due to your Fast Skill Levelling, Restoration (Healing) has increased to Level 5!]
A wide smile spread across Aerion's face. He had done it. Another skill, another cheat, another layer of power added to his arsenal. The knowledge of the spell was now as natural to him as breathing.
He looked down at Lupin, who, despite his best efforts to stay safe, had a few minor bruises from the scuffle.
Aerion crouched down and placed his now glowing hand over the fox. Lupin let out a surprised yip, but the moment the golden light touched him, his tail began to wag, the bruises fading and disappearing as if they had never been there. The process was fast, efficient, and powerful.
[Your Restoration (Healing) skill has increased to Level 7!]
Lupin, now completely healed and full of energy, began to circle Aerion, letting out a series of happy yips and nudging his legs. Aerion laughed, a genuinely happy sound, and stood up, feeling fully rejuvenated. It was time for the next step and that was of course looting.
He walked over to the bodies of the bandits, his gamer instincts taking over. He had no use for their shabby leather or iron armor, which would just add unnecessary weight.
So he focused on the valuables. He took an Iron Greatsword from the Orc, a one handed Iron Axe and Iron Mace from the Nords, and a Steel Sword from the Breton. He also took a Long Bow and a handful of Iron Arrows from the Nord bowman.
He systematically checked each body, finding a total of 57 septims and four Lockpicks. He added all the weapons to his inventory, their weight a sudden 45 KG that was easily absorbed by his massive carry capacity.
He also placed the septims and lockpicks inside his small pouch. He then decided to put the original Iron Mace he had used for the fight, placing it back in his inventory.
With the bandits plundered, he turned his attention to the camp itself. He walked over to the makeshift wooden platform that served as a watchtower. Beneath its crude steps, he spotted a well hidden wooden chest.
Just as he remembered from the game, a tripwire was attached to a spring trap. He carefully cut the tripwire, a spiked iron ball on a chain swinging harmlessly down and coming to rest on the ground.
He opened the chest, and his expectations were met. Inside, he found a modest sum of 78 septims, two Gold Rings, and a 4 Silver Rings. He took all of it, adding it to his ever growing pile of wealth.
Just to the right of the chest was a barrel which on top of it was two small bottles filled with a glowing red liquid. Potions of Minor Healing. He knew them well. He took the potions and the rings, placing them in his inventory, which registered a weight increase of 3.5 KG.
He took one final look around the camp, finding a few empty burlap sacks near a supply pile. He took them, adding them to his inventory, knowing they would be useful later. Convinced he had taken everything of value from the outside, he turned his attention to the final part of the camp, the mine entrance.
The entrance to the mine was an imposing wooden door set into the underbelly of the hill, a crude torch illuminating the dark passage. He pushed the door open, revealing a downward slope that disappeared into the darkness. The air inside was cooler, damper, and smelled of earth and old rock. Torches and lanterns were placed at regular intervals, casting a flickering, ominous glow on the mine shaft.
_____________________________
[Main Panel] Name: Aerion Race: High Elf (Altmer) Health: 150/150 Stamina: 120/120 Magicka: 230/230 Level: 6
Skills: Animal Affinity (MAX LEVEL), Fast Skill Levelling (MAX LEVEL), Fast Magic Mastery (MAX LEVEL), Destruction (Fire/Lightning) (Level 19/20), Persuasion (Level 15), Smithing (Level 9), Sneak (Level 11), One Handed (Level 7), & Restoration (Healing) (Level 7) - NEW
[Inventory Panel]
1x Small Pouch = 330 Septims
1x Iron Dagger, Steel Dagger, Iron Battleaxe, Iron Greatword, Iron War Axe, Iron Shield, Long Bow, & Small Sack
2x Gold Garnet Rings, Gold Ring, Potions Of Minor Healings, Iron Swords, & Big Sacks
3x Silver Garnet Rings & Silver Rings
4x Lockpicks
10x Iron Arrows
Weight: 73.5 KG / 360 KG
Septims = 25,135