arvel the swift

Arvel the Swift

Well this is a fine mess I’ve got myself into. Frostbite spiders eyeing me up for their dinner and this berk blunders onto the scene. I waste no time in making my predicament known to him and rashly promise him the contents of the treasure room, assuming there is one. Probably the spider venom talking. As he started peppering the spider’s face with arrows while darting in and out of the room like a marmot with ocd, I was fairly certain that I would not have to keep my promise of treasure. This certainty died as I heard the words “Nah, fuck it” followed by the hitherto quite unexpected sight of the newcomer charging back into the room waving a warhammer about his head and promptly taking the understandably bewildered spider by surprise, driving it into a corner and sinking aforementioned hammer into its carapace. Twice. He then stepped back surveying, almost rating, his earlier marksmanship. He seemed to be arguing, though I couldn’t see who with, about how many eyes spiders are supposed to have. This argument was inconclusive but did at least determine “one less than it did”

Looking at the giant Frostbite spider crumpled before me, I’ve decided that I don’t really like spiders. At all.

The shouts for help continues. I walk on over to the far end of the den to find a man struggling to move in a massive clot of webs. He’s relieved to see us and asks to be cut loose. Something about him strikes me the wrong way, though, so I question him a bit further. His name is Arvel the Swift and he admits to stealing Lucan’s golden claw. A-ha! He tells me that the golden claw is the key to unlocking some sort of great power hidden in the Barrow. Double A-ha!

Against my better judgement, I cut Arvel loose.