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Richard pressed on... whoever that was trying to scare him off didn't know what he faced this time. There was mummery afoot here. Simple trickery to some odd purpose. He found one passage from the chamber where he found the Draugrs spiked into their niches that was blocked by a portcullis. The other way led to a chamber with some ruined books and one that looked to be of interest and readable. On either side of the entrance were contraptions with two levers each. He flipped one up and the portcullis across the first chamber rose as one dropped to trap him in there.

He flipped the one behind that one and with a puffing hiss a swarm of darts erupted from decorative stonework on the walls. Richard picked one up. It didn't have much scent left but from the resinous yet somehow greasy texture it was some sort of poison. He turned to the other set of levers and flipped the one closest to the door.

The portcullis ascended. The way was clear now. The voice kept up an increasingly inept attempt to unnerve him. Richard wondered how this individual was able to keep track of him. There didn't seem to be spy holes and scrying usually made his amulet take notice. And he definitely didn't feel eyes upon him.

Another chamber, a passage blocked by rubble, one door with an old type of lock that took little time to defeat. There was a pressure plate on the floor... There was a chest at the end of the short corridor. Curious he retrieved a stone from the previous chamber and tossed it onto the plate. Solid metal spears launched themselves from the walls, well suited to skewer an incautious looter. There was some ancient coins in the chest and a pair of bracers that had seen better days. He left both for later.

The last way out of the chamber was a portcullis with a flight of stairs leading down. A chain pull provided the means to open it.  As soon as the gate began to rise, spears lashed out from the walls... The timing on that one was off. Only the most brash and intemperate would ever fall to that trap.

Richard heard water dripping somewhere. Thankfully the voice had stopped trying to scare him off. He thought of Petri's Philtre, and he had but one dose of it. This didn't seem important enough to justify the heightened senses it engendered. He felt no need to hear the march of ants, or smell a roach fart. Both of which had been known to happen from time to time if it worked too well.

He spotted another door, that was where he heard the dripping water. Additionally he spotted a dark metal lever at one corner of the door. It bespoke some manner of trap. But it was still set. That way later perhaps, but not just now.

Another door... just a door this time. He paused to listen and heard furtive, nervous sounding movement. He readied Aard and drew the silver blade. No sense in being totally foolhardy... He threw open the door and saw... the corridor turning to the left.

"None but the dead here," that voice began. In two strides he was at the turn and beheld the apparition. In form it was an elf, armored in Dwarven styled armor of some sort. Pale, translucent, glowing slightly. It looked very much like a ghost of some sort.

But that was just it... very much like was not the same as real. There was no sensation of cold in its presence. It was some sort of hoax to mislead the gullible.

The hoaxer conjured and launched an ice dart at him. Richard stepped aside and released the Aard sign on him. The elf staggered back and went to his knee, unsure of what had just happened to him.

Richard strode forward, silver blade descending, catching him as he rose.  The fight ended quickly. Ghosts didn't bleed all over the floor. This poor fools bad luck to try to cow a Witcher with parlor tricks.

The impostor apparently lived in this final chamber... a cook pot simmered on the hearth, some sort of soup. There was a bedroll on the floor to sleep on. He found a notebook and a journal. With grim amusement Richard realized he had found the missing treasure hunter.

In one corner sat a simple alchemy set with beakers, alembics and the like. A clear bottle held a smoky blue liquid and Richard uncorked it to take a sniff of the contents.  It smelled like at its base was an old chameleon potion. They were simpler to make than one for invisibility, but most of them didn't last very long. They had fallen out of favor many decades ago. There was something else that he couldn't identify in it...

It would make a fine addition to a troupe of traveling actors engaged in telling some ghost story, but seemed useless otherwise.  From the journal he seemed a bit daft, convinced a great treasure lay deeper in the barrow and that his trickery would be the key to those riches.

Richard looked down upon Windaleus with a mixture of pity and scorn. He shook his head and headed for the surface.


Back at the inn he turned the journal over to the barkeep who was properly outraged at being taken in. And he offered Richard his pay... it was another claw key, much like the one he used in Bleak Falls Barrow. Save that this one had claws of something blue and glass-like, and differing animals on the palm they were much alike.

Perhaps there was some sort of treasure deeper within the barrow. There was sill the tugging sensation of his amulet.