And, of course, Julian’s cameo . . . it is not surprising to see that even at this age she still seems to have the pole of the Legion standard shoved firmly up her backside








ARRRRGH AWOOOOO WOOOOAAR ARRRR AWOOO-HOOO-OOOOOO....

There can be NO DOUBT about it anymore - IT'S A CONSPIRACY THAT'S WHAT IT FREAKING IS!!!! EVERYBODY IS PLANNING TO KILL ME WITH DOUBLE ENTRENDES!!!


WHY....O,O,OH HO (ooops) OH OH OH WHY WHYAIAIAIAIWHY....


WHY IS EVERYONE OUT TO GET ME....

*please send all condolences, comisserations, condoms and other wraps (er er wreaths) to deefoxy@gmail.com for the recently diseased - er - deceased D.Foxy*

I will say it before mALX gets the chance:

It serves you right for opening the box (oops, there I go again!) and letting Dhertee Innu Endo out. We have all been infected!

EDIT: I know what an 'entendre' is, but what is an 'entrende'? Is that the main portion of dinner one receives in a fancy bistro?

*By the way, I have always envisioned DIE as an 's.h.e'*

This post has been edited by Destri Melarg: Sep 14 2010, 07:59 PM

Julian nearly frightened the life out of me at the end, I think I'm getting over-immersed into these stories...nah. How do you keep writing these fantastic chapters? (This is more of a personal preference for myself ) lol. More! More! please.

This post has been edited by hazmick: Sep 14 2010, 09:40 PM

Sorry sorry for not commenting for a while! heh kitteh preparations kept me busy....no excuse but still a fact

Aaaanyway, story gets more and more exciting, the plot thickens and Athlain seems to have some good respect for mighty Julian...now that's good! That fine lady could teach Athie some good stuff!

One thing though....as being a truly native Nord I can't see the name Rigmor as male!!!! See this is an old scandinavian female name, no way a man can be named Rigmor! jeez hehe, but I think Bethesda maybe isn't familiar with swedish and norwegian names

More examples of female "nord-names" : Rigmor, Sigrid, Runa, Ingeborg, Ingegerd, Helga... The males are called : Olaf, Olof, Sven, Harald, Sigurd, Erik, Gustaf...

All these names are old but some are in still in use!

Now I'm sitting waiting for the continuation, tomorrow eve Princess Indra also will be waiting!

I knew an Ingrid once IRL - picture it...Miami, Florida, the years ago don't matter. One of the tallest, best looking, best built guys I've ever seen walks up to me. I'm not drawn to blondes usually, nor blue eyes...but there are times when you realize that is just nit-picking. Then suddenly this lovely female voice with a thick Nordish (Norse) accent wafts across the shedrow. I'm looking around...you guessed it, Ingrid was a female. We ended up being best of friends after the initial shock wore off.

This post has been edited by mALX: Sep 15 2010, 05:36 PM

"Don't leave the fort..." *gulp*

Loved it Trey

All- Based on minque’s note about “Nordic” names, I have changed Bethesda’s “Rigmor” to the gender-correct (I hope) “Rikolfr.”

@Acadian- Yep. “Congratulations. You did a good job with that last quest. Your reward is an even more difficult task.”

Athlain is a great one for justifying his choices- I think it goes with that “Voice of the Emperor” power.

Nits agreed and fixed- had looked at this one so long, I stopped seeing the actual words.

@SubRosa- Precisely right. Though Athlain may not like Tharsten much, he cannot fault his need to test this unknown Legion officer who shows up with insulting questions and assumptions. And this is certainly a moment where Athlain must decide who he is- or wants to be. The choice- and the results- appear below.

@mALX- Thank you. I wanted to create an atmosphere of tension, with Athlain feeling almost as hemmed in as the guilty Skaal warrior. And also to remind everyone that he is doubly trapped- by the Skaal test and by Julian’s unexpected questions.

@Destri- Your wait has been rewarded- with another 1500 words or so. I think that the “feel” of Bloodmoon is one of the most important aspects of the expansion. The environment, so different from that of Vvardenfell, is a character in its own right. I hope to capture that… As I noted elsewhere, I have been furiously cribbing from you and others in terms of building a “supporting cast,” populated with distinct, believable characters.

And Athynae has certainly taken over my keyboard every time she appears. I credit the imagination of her “mother” for her vivid personality.

Julian is another incredibly “alive” character whose creator has allowed me to enhance my story with an important role.

@hazmick- Yes, Julian has a way of suddenly reminded us of her presence- often with questions Athlain would prefer not to answer. And, even though you edited it out, I added a bit to the part that follows this one just for you.

@minque- Everyone knows that princess kitties take priority over anything else! Just ask the kitties! I have been pleased that Julian’s appearance has been so well-received. Many thanks to haute for her assistance. As you will see, I followed your advice on “Rigmor.” It is very helpful to have a Nordic “technical advisor” handy to catch that sort of thing. (You’ll have to tell Freddo if you speak to him….)

@Remko- Too many seasons of police shows (and especially NCIS). “No, we aren’t charging you with anything. For now. Just don’t plan any long trips.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dawn came early to Fort Frostmoth, even though the night had seemed interminably long. I had no appetite, but still stopped by the barracks dining hall for some hot tea and a biscuit. The tea was a comfort, but the biscuit sat like a rock in my belly. When I entered the small office, Pilus Prior Julian was already seated at the table, looking as fresh as if she had just come back from a two-week leave. And yet, there was a thick stack of parchment near her right elbow covered with precise script running in ruler-straight lines across the page. She ignored those pages as she greeted me, instead glancing through the small leaves of her notes as I drew out the chair opposite her and sat down.

With great difficulty, I forced myself to sit still and to match her unreadable lack of expression with my own bland look of attentiveness. Not wanting to stare at those grey-green eyes, I found my gaze drawn to the notes in her hands. Well-crafted things, especially of a type I had never seen before, interested me greatly, and her “pocket journal” was one such. The leaves were held together by a tight coil of stiffened brass wire threaded through perforations along one edge of each page. I wondered who had devised such a clever item, and who had crafted it. As she turned the leaves, with their indecipherable markings, I let my eyes trace the loops of brass- around and around, endless circles chasing one another into eternity….

“Sir? Are you awake?” Julian’s voice broke through my reverie and I wrenched my attention back into focus as she watched me with the slightest crease of a frown marking her forehead.

“Yes, sorry Pilus Prior. Did you ask me something?”

Her expression cleared and she said, “No sir, not yet.”

She set aside her notes and continued, “You were telling me about the Skaal Test of Wisdom?”



Korst Wind-Eye had explained the consequences of exile from Skaal, and made it clear that it was a terrible fate for a member of the clan. But he still had not answered the questions that troubled me the most- if I sentenced Rikolfr to death, how would the penalty be carried out- and who would do it? So I asked him again, and again, he answered my questions with some of his own:

“Is it not true that in Cyrodiil, a noble or an officer convicted of a capital offense has the right to choose the manner of his death? The right to die by the blade- even to ‘fall upon his sword’? And is it not also true that for such a one to die by the hangman’s rope is considered a disgrace?”

When I agreed that these things were true, the shaman continued, “Perhaps, as some do, you consider that death is the end, that there is nothing more. And if you believe that, then the way a man dies is of no consequence- done is done. But to the Skaal, the manner of a warrior’s death is very important- just as important as it is to an Imperial noble.”

He looked at me to make sure I understood, and waited for me to form the next question.

“And what is the manner of death that a Skaal warrior- one convicted of a serious crime- would prefer?”

Korst touched the wolf totem he wore around his neck and explained:

“To the Skaal, death in battle or by the teeth and claws of the noble prey is best. In the case of a crime against the clan, the guilty man may choose a death suited to a warrior, a death that will remove the stain of his transgression. He will be taken to the pen at the edge of the village, where I will summon the Caenlorn, the ceremonial wolves of the Skaal. And they will devour him. Allowing the sacred wolves to consume the flesh ensures that the Spirit may cycle through this world once again. It is an honorable death, fit for a warrior, even one who has broken faith with his brothers and sisters. It is a rite of atonement, for his spirit will be purified and reborn into a new life. The Caenlorn are only summoned for such ceremonies as this. Other times, they reside in the world of the spirit with the All-Father.”

The blood was roaring in my ears and I felt a wave of dizziness wash over me. The shaman waited until I had drawn several shuddering breaths before he concluded:

“The judgment is yours, Athlain of the Legion. Should Rikolfr Halfhand be exiled- or should he go to the wolves? You must decide quickly; any delay is needless cruelty to the guilty man.”

My thoughts were a jumble and I desperately tried to sort them out. Exile- or being fed to the wolves- was there no other way? What sympathy I might have felt for Halfhand was tempered by the fact that he had leveled the charge against his rival in full knowledge of the possible outcome. He had been perfectly willing to condemn a fellow Skaal to one fate or the other. So the question of “fairness,” if such a term applied, was decided. That left only the question of the penalty that I would pronounce.

My first impulse was to choose exile- was not life always better than death, no matter what? But I considered how Korst had described the circumstances of exile from the Skaal – and I thought about the exile I had nearly imposed upon myself, at a… difficult time. In the end, I weighed in my mind which I would prefer- a warrior’s death, a death with honor and some promise of redemption; or a lingering death-in-life, shunned by all who knew and loved me, forever sundered from everything I had known. Without a word, I rose and went to the Great Hall to tell Rikolfr Halfhand his fate.



We walked to the edge of the village, a silent procession led by Korst Wind-Eye. I followed him, with Tharsten Heart-Fang at my side. Behind us came Rikolfr, flanked by Skaal guards. The rest of the Skaal appeared in small groups, watching silently, waiting to hear what the outlander in their midst had decided for one of their own.

Scanning those stony faces and icy eyes, I fought the impulse to clear my throat, to equivocate, to beg their understanding. Instead, I spoke slowly and clearly, as if reporting to my commander:

“Rikolfr Halfhand, you have admitted to making a false charge of theft against Engar Ice-Mane. You have further admitted that you made this charge in the certainty, and indeed the hope, that Ice-Mane would be sent into exile or to his death.”

I paused, giving everyone present time to digest my words. Turning to Rikolfr, I asked him,

“Do you admit to this crime here, before the clan?”

He nodded convulsively, unable to make any sound beyond his ragged breathing.

“Very well. It therefore falls to me, as I have been empowered by your chieftain, to pronounce your doom. Hear now my sentence. Rikolfr Halfhand of the Skaal, I will give to you a warrior’s death, so that your passing may be of some benefit. You are to be fed to the wolves, as is the way of the Skaal. May your spirit be cleansed, renewed, and returned; as the All-Maker has promised.”

With no hesitation or words of protest, Rikolfr walked to the center of the pen and waited with his head held high. Korst raised the wolf totem from around his neck and chanted a phrase in the ancient Nordic language. The wolves appeared as if from the very air itself, creatures of smoke and shadow. And I watched. I did not want to, but I had to. If I could not look upon the results of my decision, I had no right to make it. I will not describe Rikolfr’s death- it is enough that I witnessed it- and that he died in a manner fit for a warrior.

When it was done, and the wolves had disappeared in a flash of magic, Tharsten Heart-Fang came to stand before me. He held out a hand to one of the guards, who gave him a helm made of wolf hide.

“Ye have shown mercy, allowing him to die with honor. Take this, the Helm of the Wolf’s Heart, as a symbol of your wisdom. Though it is unlikely, perhaps you can become more like the wolves we revere.”



I reached inside my cuirass and drew out a folded bit of hide and laid it on the table.

“There it is,” I said harshly, “my ’reward.’ My reward for having a man torn apart by wolves.”

Julian, her hand involuntarily touching the insignia of rank on her own helmet, shook her head.

“No sir. Your reward for seeing justice done and for making sure an innocent man did not die.”

I really liked this chapter. I could feel the weight of the decision on Athlain's shoulders and when the decision was reached, you handled the death brilliantly. Thankyou for this wonderful chapter and I hope there will be more soon.

P.S: The little bit on the end is lovely, thankyou again.

This post has been edited by hazmick: Sep 16 2010, 09:54 PM

Wow. Powerful, indeed. Three comments on this wonderful chapter:

1. It seems our Fair Lady of Anvil invented the spiral notebook.

2. I have never been more proud of Athlain than at this moment:

3. As hazmick so astutely pointed out, the final scene between Julian and Athlain was beautiful.

This post has been edited by Acadian: Sep 16 2010, 11:20 PM

This is probably the most powerful chapter so far. Athlain's struggle to make the right decision for the Skaal, even if it went against his own inclination - one that fit with their own traditions, beliefs. It became even more so when Julian helped Athlain come to terms with his decision in the end. All I can say is WHEW !!!!!!! Gobble...Gobble Gobble!!!! And MORE !!!!

This chapter left me feeling as if I had experienced something, not just read it. AWESOME !!!

As someone who had ‘lived’ (if one could call it that) under a self-imposed form of exile, Athlain is uniquely qualified to judge what awaited Rikolfr should the punishment spare the guilty man’s life. In the end, Athlain chose the only option that his conscience would allow. Even Julian sees that. And I think that, despite the professionalism which would never allow her personal feelings to compromise the objectivity of her report, in her heart she knows that she would have done the same.

It appears Julian has a Dwemer-journal, who else would devise such a tricksy thing. Of course the Dwemer name for it probably has 10 consonants in a row...

Good touch with the observation that hanging is a disgraceful method of death. Depending on how it is done, it can be very slow and excruciating as well. Unlike the more "noble" options such as beheading.

I will summon the Caenlorn
He will summon one of a pair of Bosmer brothers from Anvil? Never saw that coming! '

In the end, Athlain took the choice I expected. It is the one of the man you have shown him steadily becoming ever since the beginning of BotM. Solstheim has changed him. Made him stronger, harder, and at the same time come to truly understand the value of the relationships he has. That really is the strength of this story, it gives us that steady development of Athlain's character as he has passed from an adolescent to a man.

Though it is unlikely, perhaps you can become more like the wolves we revere.
I wonder if Tharsten's words might be prophetic?

I liked the form of execution. It reminds me of the old movie The Vikings, with Kirk Douglas and Tony Curtis. When the Viking King was captured by the English, they were going to throw him bound into a pit of wolves. Tony Curtis' character drew his sword, cut the king's bonds, and gave him the weapon. The king then leaped into the pit, to die fighting, sword in hand, his soul bound for Valhalla.

Dang! Sub Rosa, I was just about to quote that very scene...from that very movie!!! I still remember the lines...

"I demand the right of a Viking to die fighting"

and the way he yelled "ODIN!!!" as he jumped in...


Obviously you and I watch the same type of movies

...er...


then again...

I loved the question you raised: Isn't life always better than death? And then had Athlain realise how much cutlture can make a difference in answering that question.

Need..... More.... AArrgghhh...

@hazmick- My thanks- and there is a bit of business in this latest just for you. (I had part of the interaction already, just added some “flavor,” so to speak).

@Acadian- That notebook was just one of those things- more “Julian as Gibbs” for the NCIS fans. And I admit to being pleased with the passage you cite- Athlain has grown into his responsibilities. As for Julian, it is very important to me to get her right- and I see her, especially in her younger incarnation, as tough but fair.

@mALX- Thank you so much. You have such a talent for making your characters and their world come to life… so I am pleased to return the favor. And I am glad Athlain’s struggle works, without turning him into Hamlet- although the wolves turned Rikolfr into cutlets…. Sorry. I have read so much Maxical that my twisted sense of humor is out of control.

@Destri- Exactly right about the exile- which Athlain rather let slip to Julian…. But she is willing to give an honest assessment of his actions. She has not yet decided whether he is guilty of other things, but she will not let him feel guilt for making the right decision.

@SubRosa- You are probably right; the journal must have come from Kagrenac’s Planbook. Hanging- Korst wanted to show Athlain that the idea of a “noble death” was not necessarily “barbaric”- just that different cultures have different concepts of “noble” versus “disgraceful.” I was kind of also remembering Frankie Pentangeli from The Godfather. Caenlorn- Yes, another failure of Bethesda’s name generator- although Maenlorn never appears in Bloodmoon. Maybe that is the name for the “spirit-bears?” Thank you for seeing Athlain’s growth- that really is the “Journey of Discovery” in the subtitle. Interesting that you mention The Vikings. When I was casting about for a name to substitute for Rigmor, the first one I considered was “Einar”- from the Kirk Douglas character in that movie.

@D.Foxy- I guess Bethesda watched the same movies we all did.

@Remko- When Athlain finally put himself in the place of the guilty man, he realized that there was only one choice. And your wish for more is granted.

@Everyone- This one is a bit long, coming in at over 2000 words. I hope that isn’t a problem… Also, I stole a bit of characterization from Cardboard Box- credit where credit is due.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Seeing a man die that way, knowing that I had been the one to choose his fate, weighed heavily upon me. There was a bitterness to the wind that seemed to find its way to my very core. I ignored Tharsten’s doubtful endorsement of my “wisdom” and began to turn away; to go… somewhere. Before I could decide on a destination, Korst Wind-Eye silently signaled me to attend him, so I followed the shaman to a quiet spot in the lee of one of the houses. He did not try to comfort me, which I appreciated. Instead, he spoke quietly:

“You are still troubled in spirit. But the events of this day are only a part of that. If you will recall, I recommended that, before you began this journey, you take care of any unfinished business. That is still my advice. A great wrong has been done to you, and you will not find peace until you resolve it. I cannot tell you how to proceed- no one can. You are the only one who can decide what must be done. My counsel is that you leave us for a time and find an ending- whether it be forgiveness or vengeance.”

Korst’s words gave me the direction I needed; besides, there were few choices available on Solstheim. The mead hall was the last place I needed to go- one drink would lead to many- and there were no answers at the bottom of a tankard. So I cast the spell that would bring me back to Fort Frostmoth, to some semblance of civilization. I shuddered as I recalled Gaea Artoria asking me if I had “gone native.” Before today, I had been certain of my answer.

At the fort, I spent a quiet night in the barracks, speaking to no one. The troops sensed my dark mood and left me alone, content to wrestle with their own bleak thoughts. I purposely avoided Saenus, who would have tried to break through to me, to find out what troubled my sleep. And I also decided that I had nothing new to report to Gaea. In fact, the only “official business” I conducted besides sleeping in a Legion bunk was to draw a new shield from the armory, leaving my borrowed Nordic one behind.

When dawn came, I ate a sketchy meal and went to the dock, hoping Basks-in-the-Sun was still there. He was about to cast off, and I hailed him, asking where he was bound.

“Raven Rock,” he replied, “then Khuul.” I jumped aboard and handed him some coins before finding a place to huddle in the bow. The shipmaster brought me a cup of tea and one for himself as well, brewed on a small burner near the cabin. We drank it in silence, watching the tree-clad shore slide by on our right. Despite the cold, the Argonian always seemed more alive when he had the deck of the ship under his clawed feet. I also noticed that he still wore the enchanted gauntlets I had provided. I quietly wished that someone could give me a gift that would take away the cold that seemed to have taken up residence inside me.

We made a fast passage and I was interested to see a large cargo-hauler tied up on the opposite side of the pier. She rode low in the water, as if fully laden, but her crew lounged about the deck, apparently in no hurry to get under way. As I walked up the slope from the shore, I saw that the trader’s shop had been completed, a sign that the colony was progressing.

Even so, Falco appeared to have aged several years since I had last seen him, and he greeted me almost as a drowning man would welcome a rescuer. He clapped me on the shoulder and essayed a vague smile, saying:

“Athlain! Glad to see you! Your being here is the first bit of good news I’ve gotten in a while. If I didn’t know better, I would swear this whole enterprise is cursed.”

He paused before adding grimly, “Or that someone is working actively to see that it fails.”

“Sir?” I responded.

“You saw the replacement supply ship at the dock? Unfortunately, it brought more than construction materials- it also brought trouble. Specifically, the captain, Baro Egnatius. He’s demanding extra payment for delivering the supplies and taking the ore back to the mainland. He keeps using the phrase ‘hazard pay,’ as if this job is more dangerous than any other. Well, I’m not going to pay it! I’ve given up trying to reason with him; please see if you can do better.”

Money was not an issue for me- especially not now that I had access to my locker at the fort. So I cautiously inquired, thinking it might just be a matter of a bribe to smooth things over. But when I probed a bit, Falco shook his head and told me,

“He’s asking for a ridiculous sum- more than his ship and all its cargo are worth. I won’t even repeat it. See if you can talk some sense into him; we have to make this ore shipment. He’s still down by the dock; says he ‘won’t move’ in case someone ‘tries something’.”

I agreed to do my best and went looking for someone who fit Falco’s description of the difficult captain. Of course, there were only a handful of people in Raven Rock, so anyone new stood out. Captain Egnatius stood out more than most- or at least his paunch did. He was a portly Imperial, and not even the cut of his expensive clothing could hide his girth. He stood at the foot of the gangway with his arms folded and the air of a man prepared to repel boarders.

I walked up and nodded to him, inquiring: “Captain?”

He gave me a contemptuous once-over and sniffed, “Are you the errand-boy? Do you have my extra payment? I already told them that if I had to make this trip on top of Elberoth’s run, it would cost them. And I’m getting tired of waiting.”

I ignored his rudeness, thinking instead that Elberoth was the name of the Bosmer who had captained the ship that wrecked up the coast. I smiled politely and said,

“Captain, I imagine you signed a contract that laid out the compensation for your services. And I doubt if it said anything about ‘extra payment’ for a routine run.”

He sneered in response and grumbled, “I will speak slowly, so you can understand. This boat doesn’t go anywhere ‘til I have that money in my hands. Your boss knows all this, so unless you’re here to pay up, get lost. It’s a good thing you’re dealing with me instead of Elberoth, or you might get hurt.”

That was the second time he had mentioned Elberoth, so I asked how well he knew the Bosmer.

“He’s a good friend of mine, as a matter of fact. Lousy navigator, but a real fighter. Always brandishing that stupid sword and threatening to ‘run somebody through.’ But what do you care? Why don’t you just go and fetch my money, instead of wasting my time?”

It was clear he was not going to listen to me. It was also clear that I could not simply threaten him or attack him. If being arrogant or obnoxious were capital crimes, the greater part of Summerset Isle would be empty, not to mention two-thirds of Valenwood- the males, at least. That last thought brought me back to the Bosmer captain, Elberoth. Egnatius did not appear to know that he was dead. Perhaps there was a way to put that information to use…. But my first responsibility was to report back to Falco.

The colony manager shrugged with irritation when I reported my failure. “No luck, eh? But I think you may be right about using Elberoth’s death to our advantage. I’m not suggesting you lie or anything- but… why don’t you see if Apronia Alfena knows something that would help?”

I could not help recalling Athynae’s admonition about the young Imperial woman, and suppressed a smile at the memory. Of course, if Athynae found out that I had spoken to her, I wouldn’t have much to smile about. Sobered, I saw Apronia coming out of the trading post, arms laden with packages. When I greeted her she immediately shoved the greater part of her burden into my arms and began walking toward a small house.

“It’s so nice to see you again, Athlain. And I’m happy you paid attention and had them build the trading post, instead of a smoky old blacksmith’s shop! It’s amazing how few people listen to good advice, don’t you think? They can’t stop talking long enough to hear what anyone else has to say. They just go on and on, as if their every thought is sent directly from the Divines. But thank The Nine for the trading post- I was forced to wear the same three outfits for the longest time. All my others were ruined in the shipwreck.”

By then, we had reached the house and I was able to quickly interject a question as she waited for me to juggle the packages and hold the door for her at the same time.

“Yes, absolutely. About Captain Elberoth- did you…?”

That was as far as I got before she was off again,

“Oh, him! He was completely incompetent as a ship captain, I can tell you that much. Such an odd little Bosmer, too. Thought he was the best fighter in the province. Always waving that sword around. But then the ship crashed, and he was injured. For all his talk of being a good fighter, he sure didn't last long against those horrible undead things. I ended up taking his saber, and using it to defend myself. About the only thing he ended up being good for, in my opinion.”

I gratefully dropped the packages on a table as she continued,

“It certainly came in handy. Now that I think of it, though, I don't really have much of a use for it.”

Reaching into a corner, she pulled out the old saber she had used to kill the bear on our memorable walk to the colony and thrust it at me point first.

“Here, you take it. Not like it's worth much of anything, but odds are you'd be more likely to use it than I ever will, what with you being in the Legion and all.”

I carefully took the weapon from her and she began opening her parcels, humming a happy tune as she tried on hats. With a feeling of relief, I stepped out the door and closed it behind me.

With time to actually hear myself think again, I examined the saber. It was a fairly typical steel weapon of the type, with decent balance and a reasonable edge. Of note was the script on the hilt, which appeared to be Aldmeris for- “Foed Shopper?” I wiped at the inscription and realized that what I had taken to be the “d” and “S” were actually a hyphen and a bit of crusted dirt covering a “C”. That made more sense, even if it was still a little bombastic. But the important thing was- the sword was instantly recognizable to anyone who had seen it before. An idea came to me, and I turned the saber so that I was carrying it by the forte, leaving the inscribed hilt uppermost and clearly visible.

In that manner, I casually walked down to the dock, passing close enough to Egnatius that he could get a good look. I did not speak, or even glance in his direction, just stood nearby, looking out to sea. After a moment, he came nearer and reached a hand out, then pulled it back as if he had been burned. Then he spluttered:

“But, how did you.... where is...? You mean he's- dead? You didn't.... you didn't KILL him, did you?”

I did not speak, but grasped the hilt of the saber and made a few passes with it that would have sent Carbo into apoplexy. They had the same effect on Egnatius, but for a different reason. He grunted as if he had been struck in his ample stomach and whined:

“Okay, listen. Maybe I made a bit of a mistake, all right? Everybody makes mistakes, don’t they? Sure they do. So- how about I just take the ship and deliver the ore, and we won't have any sort of problem at all. Just... just don't hurt me. Look, I'm going now, see?”

He was waving so frantically at the crew to make sail and cast off that he nearly tripped going up the gangway. I gave a sword salute, proud that I managed the move without slicing off the tip of my nose.

This post has been edited by treydog: Sep 18 2010, 03:59 PM

Whohooo! Me like! I remember doing that quest, ahh it's a great one!. I really like the way Athlain handled it, very well described indeed. But I hope he won't tell Thyna that he had a chat with Apronia and certainly not that he helped her with her parcels...I'm not so sure miss Sarethi would approve!

I'm so sorry I haven't commented for some time, but you're such a fast updater so....

(That goes for the rest of you as well)

This was a wonderful self-contained story! I agree that it did not lend itself to splitting or shortening. The more or your story I read, the more I love Athlain. Let's add cleverness to his repertoire! As ever, this was simply a delight to read.

This description simply sings!

I thought this was hilarious. Buffy only joined me in chuckling after she read the last clause. Lol.

And then Apronia goes on to do exactly that! Oh my, I hope she never meets Delphine Jend!

Oh my! Treydog earns his own 'no beverages while drinking' , er, reading (thanks Foxy) caution.

Nits?
Perhaps me, but this seems like one too many clauses trying to find smooth cover in this sentence? Perhaps: 'The shipmaster brought me a cup of tea and one for himself as well, brewed on a small burner near the cabin. We drank in silence, watching the tree-clad shore slide by on our right.'

I would recommend 'as' here.

This post has been edited by Acadian: Sep 18 2010, 05:03 PM

ARGH !!! I love it !!!

This was my fave paragraph, it had two really poignient places that I am quoting out of it:



Athlain's inner dialogue is always my fave part of this story, he makes deep feel like simple common sense - he is an Awesome character !!!!

Oh my! Treydog earns his own 'no beverages while drinking' caution


You mean "No beverages while READING" don't you, dear, delightful, oh-usually-so-accurate friend Acadian, don't you???


Woo - heee....oh boy, this time you missed all three cables and have to do a go-around!

oooh! that was brilliant! Athlain handled the situation very well and it was good to see Apronia again. And of course, one of my absolute favourite characters in this story, Basks-in-the-sun. I do hope he gets some sort of footwear to fit his 'MorrowingArgonian' feet. Can't wait for more!