Rrrrigimondi (no, that is not a typo), picked up the skull on his desk. The eyes were glowing a bright, almost painfully so, blue. Someone was in his tower.
"Oh, goody!" he tittered. "I do so love visitors!"
Weiba slunk in and out of every single room she came across. No more centurians, of any variety. Odd.
From everything she had learned about Dwemer ruins (granted it wasn't much...), these complexes were supposed to be chock full of the things. If she had hair intead of scales, it would have been standing on end. Though, to be completely honest, she could get used to it. Provided it didn't turn out to be a trap-
Wait a minute... A Trap!
Oh, $&*#! Weiba froze, clenching and unclenching her hands on the axe. Fear grasped her heart in it's icy claws.
"Damn these bracers," she growled, glaring at the magical 'armor' locked about her forearms. What good were they? None for her. They absolutely ruined her magicka-tapping, making her incapable of casting spells, and gave her master constant tabs on her whereabouts. And she couldn't get rid of them. Not without the right key, and her master had that hidden away goodness knew where.
What really sucked? She was a mage. Or, at least, she had been before... all this... Oh! To be able to call upon the magic again. To cast a spell. ANY spell! Even a minor heal-self one.
Come to think of it, with all this dangerous trap-potential, a couple of healing spells wouldn't be too bad...