![]() Yet before we could be overrun, the Mad Mage, Neramo, unleashed a ring of fire that expanded like a bright-orange flower in the morning sun. Crushed tight in the center of the crew, I raised my own club and prepared for the end. ![]() Even as Mighty Flicka's great axe split one draugr after another in twain, and Vimy Lacroix's glowing daggers took eyes, ears, and guts, the draugr pushed forward, hacking and cackling. He was followed to the grave by two of the painted cannibals we'd rescued from the Isle of Red Mist. Garn Feathertoes was the first to fall, even his legendary speed insufficient to evade a hail of arrows. Despite the battering our pirates unleashed, Prince Vaugr's horde responded in kind. Unfortunately draugr, being no longer alive, are more resilient to clubs and knives than the average bandit. Caught completely flatfooted, the damned dead of Skyrim initially got the worst of it. With a chorus of hoots and hollers, the pirates forgot their fear of the undead and laid into the surrounding draugr with clubs, daggers, and fists. The response from the Wereshark's once cowed crew was immediate. She strode up the skull-strewn dais, offered Prince Vaugr a mocking grin, and socked him hard enough to knock his flaming crown right off his head. ![]() Mighty Flicka's answer to Prince Vaugr's demands was perhaps the most direct. Once trapped in a sunken barrow, surrounded by a horde of draugr, and confronted by an ancient undead prince, there were many ways a pirate crew might respond. ![]()
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