The problem with sweet rolls is that they interfere with sweet rolls..



...


...


...in the hay.

The sky above the tall stone buildings across the street gleamed with the soft rose of dawn
This was a wonderful passage, especially the "soft rose" description.

A tasty breakfast and discussion. Once again you have made the Skingrad MG a lively place. I see Vigge is being a bit more - reasonable - after the previous night's escapades. What I really honed in on was Julian's admission that she is getting too old to go around saving the world every day. Many people have a hard time admitting that. That she is looking to the future - after being a fighter - shows a great deal of wisdom.

Fat chance.

Urgh... that one must sting...

*TK was carried away by the joke police*



Much more natural way on introducing us to the fact that Erthor is missing. I like it.



One bite, and you are in heaven! On top of the world, yes? That was a most lovely breakfast you served for us, Hautee.

Hmmm.... I might have to try to make sweetrolls... mmmm...

I enjoyed Julian's handling of Vigge, not as harsh as I would have suspected. Though her thinking negatively of him as middle-aged is a bit rich. It does sort of highlight how she isn't really middle aged at heart, even if she knows she's getting older she still goes closing gates like a young thing.

Nice introduction of the quest, though whatever's going on between Adrianne and Erthor certainly passed me by...

Strawberries and sweet rolls! Yum!!! Breakfast is the most important meal of the morning!

I looked up in time to see Vigge, now dressed in a luxurious burgundy brocaded garment with black fur trim on the neckline, enter the dining hall with a yawn splitting his pudgy face. His gaze fell on me, and red ascended from his collar to the top of his bald head.
A wonderful - and efficient - description of the Cautious one with the sweet roll addiction.

“And I won’t have to carry those potions around so much, either,” I added.
Just think Julian! That will leave more room in your pack for dresses (with matching shoes, of course). Oh, wait. . . .

The sharp voice drew my attention to the elegant Breton woman I had seen last night. She took a seat next to the Nord, her slight frame dwarfed by his bulk, and slapped his hand away from the remaining sweet rolls.
Berene waved me away with an imperious gesture, not looking up from her plate.
These two passages capture Adrienne very well. I can't help but like her in game, but she is indeed acutely aware of her position - and wants you to be aware of it too.

Interesting and fun twist you provide by indicating some hanky panky potential betwixt Ms Blue Velvet and her missing mage.

@Foxy: You might be right!

@SubRosa: I would say that Julian is suffering a bit of a mid-life crisis. Will she go out and buy herself a sports car? We’ll see!

@TK: I suppose my fondness for fresh baked cinnamon rolls is very evident in this chapter segment!

@Olen: Julian is no prude, and after twenty plus years in the Legion, surrounded by horny men, she knows it’s inevitable at times. She would have come down harder on Vigge had he pressed the matter further than he did. As for the relationship between Adrienne and Erthor, one time when I was playing the MG questline, and I brought Erthor home late that night, he went right up to her room and got into bed with her! I was like WTF?? Then I just laughed myself silly!

@Acadian: I thought the most important meal of the day is the next one? I knew you would enjoy breakfast!

Julian meets yet another charming male member of the Skingrad Mages chapter.

***********************
Chapter 22.5 Erthor

As the seventh zombie lay dismembered at my feet, I leaned against the wall to catch my breath. A quick cast of my detect life spell indicated yet another life-form down a short passage. As I watched it, waiting for the movements that would give its identity away, I found myself wondering about the zombies in the cave.

“There was that awful scamp incident last year,” Vassinus’s voice echoed in my mind. I had spoken to him yesterday when I returned from dropping my armor and weapons off at Agnete’s forge. “That’s when Adrienne told him to practice somewhere else. Meaning somewhere far away from the chapterhouse. So he set up his laboratory in Bleak Flats Cave. Comes back once or twice a week to check in with Adrienne.” His grin reminded me uncomfortably of our first encounter the night before. “But I can’t remember where it is. So sorry.”

This morning, after I retrieved my repaired armor from Agnete, I had asked Druja about Bleak Flats Cave. “Bleak Flatss Cave? Oh, yess, that’ss where Adrienne told Erthor to go to conduct his conjuration sstudiess. It’ss jusst northwesst of here. You might want to remind Adrienne of her idea.”

This time, I had to dig Berene’s nose out of a book to ask her about the cave. Once she got over her irritation, she had become thoughtful. “Oh, I recall telling him to set up there. Well, I suppose we’ll have to do something about that. By we, I mean you, of course. I’ll be here when you get back with Erthor. Good luck!”

This is turning into a little more dangerous mage hunt than the one for J’skar. I hope it won’t have the same outcome as the search for Vidkun and that blasted ring of Falcar’s. The pink glow had remained motionless while it lasted, so I still had no clue what waited for me beyond that short passage. As the spell faded, I looked down at my katana, dripping with slime and mold from the rotting bodies. Green sparks flickered along its slender blade as the disgusting material fled from my fingers and the refresh spell blooming from them.

My sword still ready, I took a deep breath against the lingering nausea and started into that dark way. Ahead, a warm, flickering glow brightened the end of the tunnel. I began to catch glimpses of mundane things - a trunk with clothes folded tidily on top of it, a small bookcase with writing materials and books on its shelves, even a green and gold Mages Guild banner draped across the rock wall.

The slight figure turned at my approach, backing up to the wall beside a narrow cot. The Bosmer and I stared at each other for several moments.

“Erthor?” I asked, sheathing my sword once I was certain he was unarmed.

“Yes!” His exclamation held a Nirn’s worth of relief at the sound of a mortal’s voice. “Are all those zombies gone? I can leave the cave?”

“I’ve dispatched seven of them so far,” I replied. “The way back is clear, unless there’s more to this cave than I’ve seen.”

“Well,” he pointed at a short passage that led off the rocky chamber off to my right. “There’s the shortcut back to the entrance.”

“All right, let me check it out,” I said. His shy voice stopped me before I entered the hallway.

“You’ll let me know if they’re all gone, right?” I glanced back at him. Now that he stood next to the candelabra, I could see the worried brown eyes in the handsome face watching me.

“I’ll come back and let you know, sir,” I assured him. Turning away from him, I cast another detect life spell and progressed down the passage. A few steps within, I encountered a dead end. Shortcut? I looked around, and spotted a handle in the dimness. It turned with some groaning that brought a squeak from behind me, then the rock wall before me rumbled down into the floor. I found myself in the initial cavern, a rotting corpse of a zombie laying where I had left it. Almost back to the entrance. I turned around and returned to the chamber Erthor had converted to his living quarters.

“Really?” He stepped forward when I nodded. “Oh, thank you!” Erthor hesitated. I could see he was still badly shaken by his recent experience.

“What’s the deal with these zombies?” I asked him, keeping my voice soft in the echoing chamber. “Have you been practicing necromancy?”

“No, no!” Erthor protested, his hands coming up in a warding gesture. “I’ve been studying summons - their nature, what sets them apart from natural life forms.” His gaze grew thoughtful. “Although, I’m not sure if zombies count as life forms, but you understand what I mean, don’t you?”

“And these summons turned on you?” I asked, frowning. What happens if Domina Incendia turns on me? Would she?

“I - I’m not sure how that happened,” Erthor shook his head. “I was testing calming spells on them, and they started acting hostile toward me. I ran back here, and they’ve been keeping me from leaving!”

“Have they tried entering this place?” I looked around, trying to find something that would repel zombies. What could repel the most repellent creatures that ever walked Nirn?

Erthor shook his head. “You know, they never did. Do you think maybe they were trying to keep me here? But why?”

“They attacked me,” I responded. “Obviously they thought I was a threat. A threat to them, or maybe -“ I inhaled at a sudden memory of Glenroy and Baurus with the Emperor. “Maybe they were protecting you. From what, only they know.”

“You mean, they were acting as my guardians?” Erthor rubbed at his chin, dark with an incipient beard. “Maybe you’re right!” He clapped his hands. “There’s some resources at the Guild library that can help!”

“I’m supposed to take you back to Berene to get my recommendation for the University,” I offered.

“You are?” Erthor’s face glowed with a wide grin. “Then you’ll let me come with you back to Skingrad? I’m still a little jumpy, see -“

“Of course,” I answered. “Are you ready? I’d like to be back before dark.”

“Yes, ready whenever you are!” Erthor exclaimed, taking a step toward me. “Let’s go!”

Outside the cave, the countryside lay quiet in the afternoon sun. As we struck southward toward Skingrad, we approached a tall stone surrounded by smaller menhirs. Its carved runes glowed softly in the bright daylight. I studied it as we walked by.

“Ah, you noticed the Aetherius Stone, did you?” Erthor had followed my gaze. “It’s a Heaven Stone. Supposedly if you pray before it at night, and have certain qualities, it will grant you a greater power that you can call on once a day. It’s like the adrenaline rush you Redguards have.”

“What do you mean, certain qualities?” I glanced at him as we left the mysterious stone behind.

“No one’s really certain,” Erthor responded as I shortened my stride to match his. “There are those at the University who feel that the stones no longer hold any magicka. But at least one lecturer thinks it will still become active for certain people” His brown eyes drifted to me. “I think you will succeed, Julian of Anvil, if you were to come back at night and pray before the Aetherius Stone.”

I realized with a lurch of my heart that I had not introduced myself to Erthor. Yet he knows who I am. As did Vigge and Vassinus the other night. I suppose there are not that many white-haired Redguard women traveling around Cyrodiil closing gates and rescuing housecats. “Would it be worth it for a Redguard to do that?” I asked.

Erthor apparently caught my reference to the common understanding of the Redguard’s aversion to magic and the limited magicka available to those of that race. “Yes, it would be!” His voice became enthused. “It doesn’t matter what magical skills you have, or how much magicka you possess. The greater power is invaluable to have, as I’m certain you are aware of, with your adrenaline rush.”

“It’s more dangerous than it’s helpful,” I grumbled, recalling the last few times I had used it. Fortunately Jeelius had been beside me the last time I had used it, or I would have collapsed and given up once the spell wore off. His presence had given me the motivation I needed to keep going in the face of extreme exhaustion.

“Ah, yes, the crash that follows.” Erthor nodded knowingly. “That’s a natural response to the fight-or-flight reaction every living thing has. When you use the adrenaline rush power, it exaggerates that reaction to supermortal levels. The resulting crash is correspondingly greater.” He turned and glanced back at the great stone, now barely visible through the thick branches of the Weald forest. “But not all greater powers are like that.”

He continued chattering about little-known arcane facts about the Heaven stones, then moved on to the Birthsign stones. I listened with half of my attention, the other half constantly scanning the countryside around us for hostile creatures. The westering sun was low in the sky by the time we reached the western gates to Skingrad. The guardsmen standing duty outside the gates greeted us, Erthor with familiar coolness, and me more warmly.

Once we were inside the city walls, Erthor turned to me. “It’s nice talking to you, Julian,” he said wistfully. “Most people don’t seem as interested in what I have to say, but you listen well.” He smiled up at me. “I get the sense that you don’t find Bosmeri irritating.”

“Oh, well,” I shrugged and smiled back. “I spent my first Legion posting in Valenwood. Learned a lot about Bosmeri and Bosmer culture there.” At the sparkle in his brown eyes, I added, “And I learned that Bosmeri usually have something to say. It may not be immediately relevant, but the things I’ve learned from Bosmeri have come in handy over the years. I’m certain the things you’ve told me about the doom stones will be useful sometime in the future.”

What could repel the most repellent creatures that ever walked Nirn?
Vigge the Cautious?

I like the extra depth you put into the explanation for the zombies being in the cave to begin with. That is something the game just ignores. An especially good touch was that the zombies were trying to guard Erthor.

Erthor was a fun fellow, with just the right amount of "eeep!" in him that a person trapped by zombies ought to have. His going on and on about the Doom Stones really got across the fact that he is a mage, as he showed that knowledge.

And Doom Stones too I see? I always ignore those in the game, as I hate once a day powers. I never use them, as I am always saving them for that one really important event. But of course you only know what that was after the fact. Fiction is a little different though, as you (the writer), have a much better idea of what is going on than when you are playing the game. I plan to eventually use one in the TF as well.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Jan 29 2011, 09:38 PM

What could repel the most repellent creatures that ever walked Nirn?
My cooking?

I too enjoyed your portreyal of Erthor, he was fairly well done in game but you added a bit to him. He seemed alarmed enough but also was 'mageish' enough that once out of immediate danger he started talking about magic. Also it introduces what I suspect might become a section.

The zombies made more sense too, I always wondered how they got there but with the scamp referance I suppose summons make sense. Julian's worry about her flame atronach was a good touch too, mages always seem to be losing control of their creatures.

What a lovely job with this nice little quest! Let me echo the compliments on the thought you put into why the zombies were there.

I liked very much how you started the story in-progress after the zombies had been killed, then caught us up and continued. Nicely done!

You portrayed Erthor as a perfect Bosmer mage.

Regarding those Doom Stones, Buffy sure likes her Cobra's Dance from the Serpent Stone.

“And I learned that Bosmeri usually have something to say. It may not be immediately relevant, but the things I’ve learned from Bosmeri have come in handy over the years.
Awww. Thank you on behalf of all the little wood elves. Even if some of them do like to prattle on a bit.

@Sage Rose: Heh heh. As for the zombies, I always wondered about them. What did they really have to do with Erthor? I figured it had to be one of his backfired experiments. Thanks for your kind words concerning the short charmer.

@Olen: I think the mages are a great resource for the esoteric things that baffle Julian and me. Doomstones are one of those things I used to avoid, until I learned about them on the UESP wiki. Even so, I still don’t use their greater powers all that much. Someday . . .

@Acadian: Combat in this story is a lot like closing Oblivion Gates. One after another gets downright tedious. I prefer to highlight just a few critical events and focus instead on characters. As far as I’m concerned, it’s the characters like Burd, the Cautious, Erthor, and yes, Kud-Ei that are worth developing because they help move Julian forward. As for Hassildor, will he be one of those characters? I’m not sure yet, it isn’t apparent in this visit. But a few are coming up that will play a big role in Julian’s story.

And my friend, in spite of what most people say, Bosmer are mostly nice people. It’s just a few bad apples that paint the whole race in such a undeservedly negative light. Yes, that means you, Adoring Fan, and you, Glarthir!

What is it about Skingrad that brings out the musings in Julian? Just a little stream-of-consciousness here.

***********************
Chapter 22.6 The Aetherius Stone

I sat before the tall tumulus, surrounded by alkanet, peony and columbine blooms. How does one pray at these stones? To the Nine? Or just one of the Nine? One of the daedric lords? No, I won’t pray to one of those things ever. Certainly not Sheogorath!

Above me, the stars twinkled into being as the last of the daylight disappeared from the sky. The stone took on a soft glow, the red runes on it brightening in the twilight. I considered Erthor’s words from this afternoon. Do I have the requisite qualities? He seems to think so.

Thinking of Erthor drew my thoughts to the events of this evening. On our return to the chapterhouse, the Bosmer had immediately sought out Berene.

“Adrienne! I’m back! I’ve been rescued!”

Seated at the library table, Berene looked up from her book. “So I see,” she remarked with her customary irritation. “You seem all right to me.”

“Well,” Erthor toed the rug sheepishly. “Just that my pride’s been wounded -“

“Oh, please spare me,” Adrienne waved him away impatiently. “You should be glad that I needed to speak to you about some notes you borrowed. Otherwise I would have never sent someone to fetch you back!”

“Erm, well,” Erthor shifted his feet, then bent down and smooched Berene soundly on the cheek. “But thanks for sending Julian of Anvil for me!”

“Erthor!” she exclaimed, her face suffusing as she brushed him off. “Scoot!” As he skipped away, he winked gleefully at me. When he had disappeared up the stairs to the third floor, Berene met my gaze, her face composed again. “I see you have completed your task, Julian.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I answered. “About that recommendation -”

“Yes, yes,” she waved her hand impatiently. “I’ll write it when I have time. You can see how terribly busy I am. But I assure you, I’ll get it off to the University - eventually.”

I looked up at the Aetherius Stone. To whom do I pray? Does it really matter? It’s called Aetherius for a reason. My mind still blank, I looked up at the stars in a sky now gone black. The double moons hadn’t risen yet. Well, here goes nothing. I rose to my feet and approached the stone. Taking a deep breath and gazing up at the sky again, I touched the glowing runes with the fingers of my left hand.

Ta’vias pa’toluku. It was barely a whisper in my mind. “Ta’vias pa’toluku?” I repeated. Instantly I felt a warm glow in the core of my being, and magic surged through my fingers. I closed my eyes and returned to the meditative state I had used when restoring Paint’s magicka. The glow that represented my magicka seemed brighter, stronger than before. As I watched, the sense of increased potential appeared in the light of my core. What does this mean? I sighed and stepped back from the stone. Will I feel as depleted as I do after summoning the adrenaline rush?

My mind back on my surroundings, I sat back down beside the stone. It’s been so long since I could watch the stars. The cold breeze, a harbinger of snow, only served to make the stars feel more crystalline. The Weald lay quiet around me, with an occasional hooting of an owl to break the silence. With my elbows on my upraised knees, I considered how far I had come in my journey.

Has it been two months since the Emperor was assassinated? More than that. It felt like a lifetime ago, almost as long ago as my days in the Legion. Mentally I counted the days. It’s the second of Sun’s Dusk. Two months ago, I helped Savlian take back the city and castle of Kvatch. I wonder how he is doing now? And the refugees in the camp, how far have they been able to recover? Will they be ready for winter? Kvatch’s heights would be cold, exposed to the winds that spilled off the Imperial Reserve to the north. Will this crisis be resolved in time to help those people? Or will they receive help from some of the other counties? I considered the thought for some time. Skingrad and Kvatch have been allies at times in the past. And Countess Umbranox in Anvil is a kind-hearted soul. Perhaps they will lend aid. They certainly can act quicker than the Legion or the Elder Council.

Why is it that some folks become so selfish when confronted by a crisis that involves all of Tamriel? Maybe it’s a good thing that Kvatch has the history with Skingrad that it does. Maybe it’s good that its other neighbor Anvil is ruled by a wise and kind woman. If Count Leyawiin ruled in either county, be certain he wouldn’t lend aid! Neither would Count Bravil - he’d be too busy counting the profits from the skooma and black market trades to look outside his own walls.

I sighed and lowered my hands to the ground behind me, leaning back on my braced arms. And Countess Chorrol, what is she like? Is she like her daughter Countess Alessia Caro? Or does she have more wisdom fitting her years? I knew she had taken over the reins of the highland county after her husband the Count passed away several years ago. I also knew how different mothers and daughters could be. Look at me and my mother. She was kind and patient. I was hot-tempered and reckless by comparison. I shouldn’t have lived so long in the Legion, let alone made it through recruit training. But my first pilus, Carius, had tempered my anger and self-destructive behavior and taught me to be cautious and to keep a cool head in times of crisis. Thanks to him, I not only survived my first posting to Valenwood, but rose through the ranks until I became pilus prior of the Ninth Cohort in the Sixth.

“- you think I don’t know what the Ninth Cohort is in any Legion?” Martin Septim’s voice snaked back to me on the cold northern breeze. “Good only for arrow fodder? Any soldier who found himself or herself in your cohort didn’t stay there long, and more importantly, most of them lived to move into more prestigious cohorts.”

Martin Septim. The next Emperor. The target of the Mythic Dawn. Can he find the secret to Mankar Camoran’s Paradise in the Xarxes? Can he even study that infernal book without becoming corrupted by its power? Jauffre’s concern over Martin’s study of the Xarxes came back to me. I recalled how I had brushed it off, expressing my faith in Martin’s ability to withstand the temptations of the daedric manuscript. But was I right to have so much trust in him?

The slow increase in the ambient light made me aware that the double moons now stood high above the eastern ridge that separated the Great Forest from the West Weald. It’s getting late, time to head back to town. I should leave in the morning for Anvil. Some part of me dreaded returning to the city of my childhood. But I have to do it. For the sake of the guardsmen at Bruma. I didn’t put so much effort into teaching them how to close Oblivion Gates to abandon them because of my own ancient nightmares.

My thoughts continued skipping around during the long walk back to Skingrad. I avoided thinking of the path that still lay ahead, the Oblivion Gates that doubtlessly awaited me outside Anvil and Chorrol, not to mention those along the roads. Instead, I wondered about the Mages Guild chapters in these two cities. Are they like the ones at Bruma and Skingrad - loosely run with little restraint? Or are they oppressive like Cheydinhal’s chapter under Falcar? I recalled that I had sensed an easing of a tension I had not noticed, once the overbearing Altmer disappeared. But hopefully Deetsan is in charge there now, and she’ll be much kinder and more supportive of her colleagues than Falcar ever was. And Leyawiin - has Dagail resumed her role as chapter head? Or is she still having trouble maintaining her focus in view of her voices? I remembered her reading of my palm, and shivered again at her words.

A sudden weakness surged through me. I paused, wondering at it. It’s as if I cast several spells in a row. Am I out of magicka? I looked within, as Marz had taught me. The core of flame that represented my magicka had returned to its former size. Ah, no, that blessing from the Aetherius Stone has worn off. No major crash this time. I didn’t feel shaky or frail. That weakness is relative compared to what the new spell does for me. Increase my magicka? I recalled that a couple of healers sold fortify magicka spells. Whew, that lasted a long time! It might be worth something against those daedra mages.

I turned my thoughts back to the different chapter heads. I like Kud-Ei in Bravil the best so far, I thought as my feet hit the cobblestones of the northern road that skirted Skingrad. Turning west to follow it to the gates, I considered the Argonian chapter head. She takes good care of her mages, but expects a certain standard of behavior from them. It’s funny, but the women live in the chapterhouse, while the men have their own residences in the town. Did Kud-Ei arrange things that way, or did it just work out like that? I thought again of Carandial. I didn’t see him the last time I was in Bravil. He must have been out studying the ruin at Anutwyll. I wasn’t certain if I was disappointed at not seeing him, or relieved. I’m not ready to get involved with someone again. I may never be ready, not after what happened with Jared.

“Hello, Julian of Anvil!” the guardsman at the gates, a different one from the afternoon, greeted me as I approached the closed portal. “Turning in for the night?”

“Yes, sir,” I answered, as he knocked on the heavy timbers. With a grating of the bolt and a grinding of the iron hinges, the left panel swung open far enough for me to slip inside. I helped the second guardsman close and secure the gates, then turned for the Mages Guild.

I think I will sleep by the fire again tonight.

This post has been edited by haute ecole rider: Jan 29 2011, 10:01 PM

A nice little flashback with the self-important Adrienne and the bubbly Erthor.

The rest is a thoughtful well, rest, by Julian. It is good to see her take a moment to just sit back and take stock of her life. How she turned out so differently from her mother, her early years in the Legion, plus even a handy nod at the irl legions, whose 9th Cohort was for the newest and weakest troops.

I may never be ready, not after what happened with Jared.
And what, pray tell, did happen with Jared?

Well, it looks like Julian is finally headed into the fire of her own past. Perhaps soon we shall see some light cast upon her mysterious past, and learn what happened to her mother, brother, and this mystery man Jared or is it Jared?

nits:
Skingrad and Kvatch has been allies at times in the past.
has sounds odd here. Perhaps have or had instead?

I admire the way you sometimes start in the middle of things. It’s something about your writing that I find myself going back to study. I really enjoyed Erthor, his bubbly mannerisms conveyed as much about him as his speech. I guess with Erthor and Adrienne, opposites attract? Or did he just draw the short straw?


I’m so glad we got to spend some quiet time star-gazing with Julian. We know so little about her past, it makes me very curious. And yet I like her so much, I don’t want her to be upset by whatever she’s dreading in Anvil.

I think I will sleep by the fire again tonight.
Good idea. Vigge is no Carandial!

This post has been edited by Grits: Jan 29 2011, 11:08 PM

A wonderful pause to take stock of things. What a perfect balance you have here between what Julian is thinking, reviewing Erthor's return to the guild and the physical setting around Julian as she waits for dark, then touches the stone.

'I sighed and lowered my hands to the ground behind me, leaning back on my braced arms. And Countess Chorrol, what is she like?'
What a magical stream of natural flow from subject to subject this began: Countess Chorrol to her daughter Alissia to Julian's own mother to the Ninth Corhort to Martin Septim. Magnificently done!

I turned my thoughts back to the different chapter heads. I like Kud-Ei in Bravil the best so far, I thought as my feet hit the cobblestones of the northern road that skirted Skingrad. Turning west to follow it to the gates, I considered the Argonian chapter head. She takes good care of her mages, but expects a certain standard of behavior from them. It’s funny, but the women live in the chapterhouse, while the men have their own residences in the town.
I agree that Kud-Ei is wonderful. I so hope Julian likes and gets on with Carahil in Anvil.

That section was different but I suspect it will serve as a good introduction to whatever events of Julian's past we meet in Anvil. Her thinking back was good too, it works well to reinforce things as well as showing her thinking about her life which brings her to life even more. Not sure I agree with her on the chapter heads, but it certainly is the way she would see it.


Lovely metaphor.


I think I might have found an inn

You've vertainly laid a hook for whatever happens in Anvil, though with mention of Kvatch might we be seeing some familiar characters soon?

This post has been edited by Olen: Jan 30 2011, 01:55 AM

@SubRosa: What happened with Jared stays with Jared. Actually, we’ll start getting hints in the next couple of chapters. Thanks for catching the nit. It’s been fixed.

@Grits: Who will ever understand the situation between Erthor and Adrienne? Some things are better left alone!

@Acadian: It was quite the stream-of-consciousness, wasn’t it?

@Olen: Kvatch will be in the future as well, once Anvil is out of the way. But it is always on Julian’s mind!

Julian is not quite done with Skingrad, as she soon finds out.

Chapter 22.7 Another Oblivion Gate

As I fumbled in my belt purse for the chapterhouse key, soft footsteps approached me on the cobblestones. “Julian!” Dion’s voice caught me. I glanced around to see the slight figure in the red Skingrad surcoat approaching me.

“Yes, Captain?” I wondered why he was seeking me out. I thought we already talked about the number of men to send to Bruma? “What can I do for you, sir?”

“The Count is asking for both of us,” Dion stopped in front of the stone porch. “I know it’s late, but it must be important if he has sent for both of us.”

“Of course,” I responded. After all, vampires like to keep late hours. Does Dion know of the Count’s true nature? “Let’s go, then.” I stepped off the porch and joined Dion as he stalked back the way he had come, toward High Street.

“Are you leaving Skingrad soon?” Dion asked as we walked through the chilly night. “I imagine you have a few more places to visit.”

“Yes, I do,” I replied. “Then it’s back to Bruma to see what’s next.”

“Do you have any idea how to end this crisis?” As we passed Agnete’s shop the glow of the forge spilling through the windows momentarily turned Dion’s serious face amber.

“Not really,” I shrugged. “Daedric magic is something I never bothered to study. If they had a lecture on that in the Legion, I must have played hooky that day.”

Dion laughed shortly. “Me too,” he added. “Best left up to wizards and mages, if you ask me.” His grin faded in the shadows between streetlamps. “Are we doomed to be closing Gates forever?”

“No, not forever,” I shook my head as we neared the High Gate that led to the Castle. The guards saluted Dion and swung the portal open for us. “No new gates opened near Bravil since I closed the last one over a month ago. But that’s not the problem, really.” I glanced at the City Guard captain. “Things will escalate and come to a head in the foreseeable future. But we’ll beat Mehrunes Dagon.”

“Think so?” Dion’s voice expressed the doubt I avoided facing.

“We have to,” I could hear the fatality in my voice. I fell back to let Dion lead the way across the narrow bridge to the bluff where the Castle stood.

Dion did not speak again until we left the bridge behind and started up the rocky path toward the Castle. “Will we all live to see that day?”

“The day we beat Dagon?” I barely saw his nod in the darkness. “I’d like to think we will. After all -“

A red flash turned the world around us blood-red, and the very air sizzled and crackled. The energy coursing through our bodies forced both Dion and I to the ground. The fine hairs on my arms and nape stood up as scarlet lightning popped overhead, followed almost immediately by loud rolling thunder.

As we struggled upright, I could barely hear Dion cursing fluently. A glance at the sky showed the familiar red-and-black thunderheads to the north. I staggered to the rocky slope next of the path and clambered over the boulders to the top. Where the bluff dropped into a thin ridge pointing north, I could make out the focus of the daedric weather, just out of sight beyond.

“Escalating, you said?” Dion shouted in my ear above the thunder. He passed me and worked his way to the top of the ridge, following its line north. I fell in behind him, cautiously feeling my way through the red darkness. We stopped at the end of the ridge, looking down at the new Oblivion Gate. I recognized the old graveyard that lay just north of the Gold Road where it bent to pass around Skingrad. Its central monument lay obliterated by the oblate lens of fire that marked the portal into Dagon’s Deadlands.

“Why here? Why now?” Dion groaned. I clasped his shoulder.

“Let’s go see the Count, then we’ll worry about that,” I said.

“I have to get men down there to set up barricades!” Dion shouted. I shook him.

“The Count may have orders for us! Your men can figure this out themselves!” I hauled him back to the path, away from the screaming of the Gate. “After all, they’ve done it once, they can do it again!”

“But we can’t hold them off another month!” Dion shouted back, breaking my grip on his arm. He turned for the bridge and Skingrad beyond.

“I didn’t say you need to hold them off that long!” I caught him again, pulled him around to face me. “By the time they get down there and the barricades up, I’m certain the Count will be done with us. Come on, let’s not keep him waiting!”

Fortunately Dion must have been a very sensible man, for he wordlessly turned back for the Castle. We ran up the steep path to the foregate, where a shaken Castle guardsman gaped at the red sky in dismay. Dion grasped his shoulder. “Man!” he shook the younger soldier. “Run down to the High Gate and tell the guard there to send a contingent out to the graveyard and get some barricades up! I’ll be joining them shortly!” When the guardsman drew breath to protest, Dion shoved him away. “Run! Don’t waste time arguing! Go and deliver my message, then get back here on the double! I’ll talk to Artellian!”

That convinced the guardsman. “Sir!” He ran off into the red gloaming. Dion and I continued pell-mell across the high bridge that led directly to the castle. I pounded on the gates with the hilt of my katana.

“Open the door!” Dion shouted up at the watch turrets overhead. “It’s Dion and Julian! Open the door!”

A moment later Artellian greeted us as we burst through the cracked portal. “What’s going on?” he demanded.

“A new Gate opened in the cemetery,” Dion reported without faltering his stride toward the County Hall. “I sent your man at the foregate down to the City to tell my men to head there straightaway. He’ll be back at his post in a jiffy.”

“That’s my Guard!” Artellian hollered at Dion’s departing back as we reached the County Hall doors. “You have no jurisdiction -!”

“Stuff it, Artellian!” Dion shouted back while I swung the door open. “My men are taking the first watch!” He strode after me into the Hall.

Hal-Liurz greeted us with wide eyes and wringing hands. “I will take you to the Count immediately,” she hissed, turning for the stairs.

“Quickly, please,” I said, lengthening my stride after her. “We’ve little time to lose.”

To her credit, the voluptuous Argonian set a rapid pace through the maze to the tower room where I had previously met the Count. As Dion and I emerged from the stairs, we looked around for Hassildor. He stood at the northern parapet, his hands clenched at his sides.

“Where?” was all he said between gritted teeth.

“The old graveyard north of the Gold Road, sir,” Dion answered. We moved around to join Hassildor. “I’ve already ordered a contingent of my men to sally down there and set up barricades.”

From the tower room, all we could see was the red glow beyond the bulk of the bluff. But the clot of blood-colored thunderheads in the sky above left no doubt of the existence of the Gate.

Count Hassildor turned to me. “I was about to ask if the number of men Dion is proposing to send to Bruma will be adequate, but with this -“

“I’m not leaving Skingrad until it is closed, sir,” I answered. “It’s the least I can do.”

“Are you certain?” Dion asked me. “You’ve just closed one a couple of days ago!”

I turned to Dion. “I’ll tell you what I told Sir Mazoga outside Leyawiin. Hold the line outside that Gate, and let me worry about the Deadlands inside.”

“I’m with Dion, I hate to ask you to go in there again,” Count Hassildor said quietly. “But you know I can’t let him send men to Bruma as long as a Gate stands open so close to us.”

“There are two Legion Riders that patrol that stretch of the Road,” I countered. “I can’t leave that Gate open for them to deal with, either. The goblins at Derelict Mine are enough work for the two of them.”

“Will you take one of my men in there with you,” Dion spoke into the silence, “show him how to close the Gate like you did at Bruma?”

“If you have one that can sneak like a Dark Brotherhood assassin and snipe like the best marksman,” I said. “Yes, I’ll be glad to show him how.”

Dion glanced at Count Hassildor. “If one of us knows how to do it, I think we can spare the men for Bruma and still deal with any new Gates that may open after this one.” He shrugged. “After all, they’re doing it at Bruma.”

“Do you have such a man?” Hassildor asked the captain.

“That’ll be Pell Fortran,” Dion stated flatly. “He’ll go with Julian.” He turned to me. “I think you’ll find him a good man to have at your side. He was a Legion forester before he settled in Skingrad.”

I thought of Kaeso Marsias. “Sounds perfect,” I nodded at Dion.

“All right, Captain,” Hassildor turned to Dion. “See to it.”

“Sir!” Dion saluted the tall Imperial smartly and headed for the stairs. I turned to follow him, but Hassildor held a beringed hand out to me. When I glanced quizzically at him, he turned his head away.

“Julian, Kvatch’s been on my mind for the past couple of months. Are you familiar with the situation there?”

“The survivors are few, and have set up a camp at the base of the mesa,” I replied. “They have very little by way of resources, only what they can glean off the land. But that was two months ago. I don’t know how they are faring now.”

“Whom of the Counts and Countesses do you have left to see?” Hassildor faced me.

“Anvil, and Chorrol, sir,” I answered. “Cheydinhal sent a century, Leyawiin sent five contubernii, and Bravil three.”

“And Dion thinks he can spare five contubernii as well, as long -“ Hassildor’s gaze turned toward that red glow.

“I’ll make certain he can spare the men, sir,” I kept my voice even.

“I believe you,” Hassildor said quietly, “that Bruma is the target. But new Gates are constantly opening around Cyrodiil. How easy will it be for Dagon to switch his focus to another city?”

“Technically, it’s very easy, I think,” I thought I knew the source of Hassildor’s concern. “But from a strategic standpoint, I really believe Bruma will be next, and these other gates are meant to be a distraction, sir.”

“It doesn’t make this Gate any less deadly,” Hassildor turned his gaze back to me.

“No, it doesn’t, sir,” I agreed. “That’s why I’m not leaving until it’s closed.”

“Back to the original purpose of this visit,” Hassildor straightened his shoulders. For a moment I found myself looking up at him, then our gazes were level again. “Will you come back this way after Anvil?” I nodded silently. “Do you plan to stop in at Kvatch?”

“Yes, I do, sir,” I answered. “I have a couple of friends there I’d like to check up on.”

“Find out what they need, and report to me.” Hassildor’s voice resumed its usual smooth authority. “We have had a very good summer here, and have plenty of provisions to spare. And if they need help rebuilding, we can provide what aid we can.”

I stared at Hassildor. “Is there a catch, sir?”

“Kvatch and Skingrad has a long history of helping each other, Julian,” he responded. “I’m only honoring that history. Besides, who knows when I may have need of their aid?” He shook his head. “Count Goldwine was a strong neighbor to have on my right hand. His passing, and the devastation of Kvatch, is a blow to us, both politically and economically.”

“I will stop on my way back and let you know, sir,” I bowed. Hassildor returned the bow.

“Go, Julian, and do what you have to do.” He remained in place while I headed for the stairs. As I started down the steps, his voice followed me. “And may Akatosh be with you.”

This post has been edited by haute ecole rider: Jan 31 2011, 10:47 PM

An exciting episode, as the Daedra do indeed continue to up the stakes in the Crisis. A wonderful description of the creation of an Oblivion Gate! Or should I say eruption? That it was not immediately seen by Julian and Dion, but rather felt and heard, made it all the more powerful.

“And may Akatosh be with you.”
This sounds so strange coming from the lips of a vampire. Yet your depiction of the Count makes it all seem so unsurprising as well. I like how you portray Hassildor. He does indeed seem to be a descendant of Rislav the Righteous.

A good touch, I was expecting Kvatch to make an appearence in the last meeting. A new gate and Hassilfor asking works well, and I agree that the gate's opening was quite spectacular.


Wooo!

A nit?
Fortunately Dion must be a very sensible man... -- the tense here struck me as a bit odd, 'must be' is present while everything else is past. Either 'was' or 'must have been' might jar less, though the second is a bit cumbersome and the first has a slightly different meaning... Just a thought.

This was electrifying! Literally, I could not escape the red sky and crackling urgency once that gate opened. Between your descriptions and pacing, you really excelled here!

I love how you are portraying the Count. I'm even more impressed that he seems up for helping his neighbor city of Kvatch. And that he is willing to lend assist to Bruma as well.

It looks like Julian will have a helper and someone to help disseminate her experience with this gate.

GAAAAH! I love the new avatar !!

OH Hautee!!! I LOVE YOUR POSSE!!!


er...


well...


YOU know what I mean

This post has been edited by D.Foxy: Feb 1 2011, 06:14 AM