“The foci for it must be somewhere else… wait. Serana came running up and quietly cursed at it. “Serana! Serana, Cicero cannot get past, Cicero doesn't know what it is.” He pawed ineffectually at what turned out to be a magical barrier, but who'd put it there and how to open it was a mystery. Cicero bounded up the stairs to the main entrance, and abruptly stopped, poking at the air and frowning. The big citadel seemed the best place to start. Somewhere around here was Serana's mother. “Oh my god,” Serana muttered, and Athis just patted him on the back and led him off. “Cicero has an Arvak!” Cicero announced proudly. The fight was soon won, and then Cicero was scampering off with the skull, returning it to the grateful soul who'd been the horse's previous owner… and getting a conjuration spell for his trouble that meant he now had his very own glowing skeletal undead horse from Oblivion. “He's certainly going for it,” Serana had to admit. So once they spot him, he just goes for it.” Also he once said to me that once stealth is broken, the fight is won by the one who fully commits to it, that you gain nothing by being fainthearted. “Just sometimes he gets urges to wreak havoc. “I thought he was a stealth specialist!” Serana hissed at Athis as she starting flinging ice spikes.

“DIE!!!!!” Cicero howled, daggers flicking out, and yes, he was taking on all six of them at once. “Of course I'll find Arvak for you! Wait here! Cicero shall be back!”Īnd so Cicero ran off, heedless of Serana and Athis calling after him, and they ended up chasing him halfway across the Soul Cairn, to where undead skeletal mages were hovering around a plinth with a horse's skull on it. The real obstacle was Cicero trying to talk to each and every soul they met, wringing his hands over their fate and sympathising, and things finally came to a head when he met the soul of a warrior who'd lost his horse. Nevertheless, they weren't the real obstacle. Black skeleton archers – not difficult to kill, but all the same, to be watched. Serana was already heading in the direction of a large citadel on the horizon, and so the two men followed, both glancing nervously around, which was useful when the undead turned up. “Lonely and too quiet and… Athis, do not leave me!” It was a blasted landscape, with withered trees, collapsed ruins, gothic towers, lightning studding a mottled black sky, the souls of the damned roaming the place, and Cicero huddled up to Athis, whimpering a bit. The Soul Cairn turned out to be as depressing as expected.

Daughters of coldharbour ritual