SubRosa: A cheap beach house, welcome to the low rent district!

Acadian: I didn’t mind leaving Jerric where he was for awhile, he seemed pretty comfortable.

haute ecole rider: I’m sure at some point he’ll wish he could return to the last chapter!

mALX: You’re right, there could be trouble!

Folks: I’m trying something new this time, writing ahead a little. I like it much better this way, but it means posting will be more erratic. Still haven’t written the whole chapter first, but I’m working toward that! I appreciate your comments and support so much!


Chapter 10: Septims, Part 1

Jerric drank his morning kahve with the sunrise at his back and his feet in the Abecean Sea. The tide was out, and low waves lapped up gently around his ankles. The air was cold enough to make the water feel warm. His breath misted out, blending with the steam rising from his cup. The open water seemed to pull at him, the same way the mountains had made him want to discover what lay beyond them. He decided that the day’s goals would be more modest than that. Join the Fighters Guild. Talk to some mages. Earn a few Septims.

He started at the Fighters Guild hall. The front door opened onto a massive, open room. Racks for weapons lined the walls. Two round targets stood beside an arched doorway, and the middle of the space held a training dummy secured to the floor and a support frame with chains. Long banners hung on the high walls. Looks the same, Jerric thought. He wandered up to the dummy and gave it a casual jab. Chains rattled. They stood alone in the room.

A door opened and closed somewhere up the stairs, and the sound of booted feet preceded their owner. A balding Imperial stepped through the archway with a steaming cup in one hand and a sweet roll in the other. “Help you?” he inquired.

“Uh, yeah. I’m Jerric. I’m here to ask about signing up. I need some work.”

“Fullo Macula, porter. You’ll want to see Azzan about that. Follow me.”

“Pleased to meet you.” Jerric followed the porter through a small storage room and up the stone stairs.

The door opened into another large space, this one a dining room. The crackling fire could barely be heard over laughter from the fighters at the long dining table. “That woman is a bit off kilter,” remarked a Nord. “I don’t even want to know what she’s got in her basement.” More laughter followed his comment. Jerric’s eyes went straight to the only Redguard at the table. Rhano. Recognition flared in Rhano’s face before his expression emptied. He did not return Jerric’s nod of greeting. Jerric followed the porter through the dining room and up another set of stairs.

“Fresh meat,” the porter announced as they entered yet another massive room. This one appeared to be the company office. More banners, display cases, and shelves lined the walls. Azzan sat at a desk angled in the far corner. He waved Jerric in with one hand, the other occupied with his kahve.

The door closed behind the porter as Jerric approached the desk. “Jerric,” Azzan said. “Pull up a chair. Decided to join us?”

Jerric did as he was told. “If you’ll have me.” He noted that Azzan’s face was still unlined, and his close cut black hair was yet untouched by silver.

“We’re always looking for new members.” Azzan’s expression became grave. “We heard about what happened at Kvatch. You have my sympathy for the loss of your family. And my thanks for what followed.”

Jerric nodded. He still hadn’t found the words for this situation. He cleared his throat. “I need to earn, Azzan. And I need to train. I have some ideas for working with the Mages Guild, training against summoned daedra. This thing isn’t over.”

“Well, it sounds like the Fighters Guild has a new Associate. Congratulations. I take it you mean all of us training with the mages. I’ll give some thought to what you’ve suggested. I don’t like it, but in these times it may be necessary.”

Jerric was surprised at Azzan’s decisiveness. “Thanks. Do you have a contract for me? I need coin to get my gear back from Morvayn.”

Azzan’s expression was unreadable. “I think I’ve got something that suits your experience. Arvena Thelas has some problem with rats in her house.”

Jerric raised his eyebrows. Once again he found himself at a loss for words.

“Yes, rats,” Azzan confirmed. He sounded a little impatient. “I’m sure she can explain it to you better than I. She lives here in Anvil. Go and talk to her.”

“All right. Mind if I borrow a blade? I don’t want to represent the Fighters Guild with nothing in my hand but my… Without a weapon.”

Azzan snorted. “There’s an iron long sword in the practice room, help yourself. Go take care of the rats. Then come back and talk to me. Good luck!”

The diners were still at the table when he passed back through. He returned their greetings with a wave, not wanting to linger. Fullo introduced Jerric to Mojo, the resident shepherd dog. Jerric scratched his neck instead of reciprocating the dog’s enthusiastic crotch-sniffing. He grabbed the sword on his way out, then he ducked next door into the Mages Guild.

He found Carahil sitting in her office with a quill in her hand. “Carahil, you wanted to see me. Uh, yesterday.” He tried to keep his eyes from wandering curiously over the bookshelves behind her, but he was only marginally successful.

“Yes, Jerric. Come in and shut the door. Please seat yourself.” Jerric sat down and waited while she arranged her desk clutter. She leaned back and folded her hands. “I would like you to relate the events that occurred on the Gold Road,” she said. “I shall include your remarks in my report to the Council of Mages.”

Jerric took a moment to compose his thoughts. “I was traveling west on the road with my pack horse. It was morning, and the sun was behind me. I heard the sound of a frost attack and shouting, so I asked my horse to wait and ran to the fight. There was an Altmer woman fighting with a Breton man on the road, it was Darnand. He wasn’t using his dagger. She was wearing a blue dress, no armor. I saw the Altmer attack him with a targeted frost spell, and he cast a fire spell at her. She hit him again with her frost. When I got to them, he was down. I was shouting, but she didn’t turn around until I hit her with my own frost spell. She kept throwing fire at me until I got my sword into her chest. I guess she switched because she could see I’m a Nord. By then Darnand was back on his feet, and two Imperial Battlemages were coming at us from the west. I recognized them by the uniforms. Anyway, it looked bad for me until Darnand saw who I was and straightened things out. I’m sure I looked more like a marauder than a mage. It could have been ugly if he hadn’t kept his head. We left them with the body. I called my horse and walked with Darnand back to Anvil.”

“You called your horse… You have learned a command spell?”

“No, I whistled. I still don’t know any illusion magic.”

Carahil smiled, it seemed to herself. “Of course. Thank you, Jerric. I am sending your recommendation to the Council along with Darnand’s. You did not request one, but you have proven yourself to me by your purposeful actions in the field. I hope you will consider seeking your recommendations from the other chapters. You will need them to advance in the guild and be given any sort of responsibility. Once you have reached the rank of Apprentice, you will have access to the Arcane University. There you will be allowed to use the Praxographical Center to make your own spells and the altars of enchanting in the Chironasium. Do you plan to stay in Anvil for a time?”

“A little while. I just joined the Fighters Guild for some training, and I already have a contract for them. I found a place to live out on the beach, I won’t be staying here in the guild hall.”

“I see no conflict with the Fighters Guild until you begin to advance in rank with us, and then it will only be in the demands upon your time. Of course I would like you to take assignments from me as soon as you have been promoted to Apprentice. You need not attach yourself to this chapter to use this hall. You may have whatever space you need in the workroom. I trust you will not abuse your privilege.”

“Thank you, Carahil. I’d like to keep storing my gear here, you could break the lock on my hut with a sneeze. And I’ll need the space for alchemy. Is there anything you’d like me to do for now, as Associate? I need coin.”

“Report to Felen. He can always use extra hands.”

“I’ll check with him. I need a new Journeyman’s seal anyway. Thank you again.”

“May I suggest that you test for Expert? You would need to spend more time refining your potions for sale, of course. However, as an Expert you would earn quite a bit more for yourself, and for the guild.”

“I’ll ask him about it. I’ve been using a mortar and pestle I got off a goblin. I guess I’ve gotten better just by making it work.”

“I expect you have. There is more I would like to discuss with you, Jerric. You seem restless. Would you prefer to meet at another time?”

“I can’t sit still for very long anymore, Carahil. I don’t mean any disrespect. It’s the same when I try to sleep. My head just…”

“I would like to calm your mind for you. Do you trust me?”

Jerric stared at her incredulously. “Who could possibly trust an illusionist?”

“Do you trust that I want to help you? I do not suffer fools in my hall, Jerric. I would not waste my time if I considered you lacking.”

Jerric snorted. “Well I believe that. All right, go ahead and mess with my mind. You might not like what you find in there.”

Carahil stretched her hands over the desk. “Illusion magic does not allow me to see into your mind, only to place suggestions there. Give me your hands.”

“I guess that was supposed to be comforting. Can’t you just toss some confusion at me?”

She gave him a cool smile. “Of course, but this is not an attack. I would rather proceed gently.” She waited.

Jerric put his hands on the desk, and Carahil took them. He looked at her slender fingers and thought that she could be made of gold and he of rough stone. He opened her hand on his and examined her perfect oval nails. They were short as he would expect from someone who worked with alchemy, but they looked as carefully tended as a lady’s. Her right palm was ridged with calluses. Hard, but smooth when he ran his thumb over them. He noticed that her fingers were longer than his, but his hand was almost twice the width of hers. He realized that his mind was empty and he was holding hands with the Anvil chapter head like they were a pair of adolescents. He flushed and let go of her.

Carahil’s smile reached her eyes this time. “There, is that not an improvement?”

“Thank you,” he said, and he meant it. “I didn’t even know you did anything.”

“An important part of mastering illusion magic is concealing its use. Jerric, I would like to offer you counsel.”

“All right.”

“Which would you say is your strongest school of magic?”

“That’s easy, destruction. Wait, maybe alchemy.”

“You are more skilled in destruction spells, that is true. But I believe you have a gift for conjuration.”

“Really. That’s… Carahil, you don’t approve of summoning.”

“I advocate practicing magic that is free from the dark arts. Summoning may put a mage on the path that leads to necromancy. However, in these times we must employ all of the weapons we have at our disposal. In your case, I cannot believe that you would become corrupted by that kind of power.”

“Well, I think you’re right about that. Conjuring a skeleton hasn’t made me want to kill someone to get at their bones.”

“Consider the gladiator games you ran this summer. No, I do not bring it up to chastise you, of course I knew about it. Did you think you could open a Skeleton Arena in my basement without my notice? Some of the wagers Thaurron placed were on my behalf.”

“You’re kidding! That little… please, Carahil, continue.”

“Your ‘Slim’ consistently vanquished opponents summoned by far more advanced conjurers. You were able to direct his attacks, and your observation of his tactics allowed you to form effective strategies for him. Yes, I was there. If you took the time to learn a little mysticism, you would have known.”

“I could use some illusion, too,” he admitted.

“I suggest starting with a simple light spell. He is not a guild trainer, but I believe Darnand has had some success teaching you.” She watched him under a raised brow, and he wondered what she had surmised about the time he had spent with his paid instructor, Abiene. He felt a flush creep up his neck. “There is no need to read your thoughts when they are written on your face,” she observed.

“Do you think anyone else figured it out? She wanted to keep it quiet, you know how mages gossip.”

“If anyone had guessed it would be all over Anvil. I wondered how the most promising restoration trainer I have seen in over a century was unable to help you advance in your studies. I see you did not consider the effect your failure would have on her professional reputation. You have an undisciplined mind. Not all of your power comes from the stars, Jerric. That others underestimate you should not allow you to underestimate yourself.”

“Uh, right.” Jerric appreciated that Carahil did not coddle him, but her direct manner was getting uncomfortable. He decided to change the tone of the conversation. “Learning a new spell from an unsanctioned trainer,” he commented. “Smacks of hedge-wizardry, Carahil.” He watched her response carefully. Teasing one’s chapter head was reckless, even for him.

Carahil smiled in amusement. “You should not get into trouble with a light spell,” she replied evenly. “If I hear he has taught you a new summons, there will be consequences. I will not have rogue daedra rampaging through my hall. You will have to travel to Chorrol for that.”

Jerric grinned back, imagining a clannfear tossing Gulitte over its back. “Thanks, I’ll work on my summoning. It’s funny you should mention it. I’m heading to Chorrol as soon as I have the coin. I guess I’ll take the time to pick up some recommendations, too. Don’t know when I’ll get down to Bravil, but I sure would like to use the university. I have an idea for a spell. A couple of ideas.”

“I believe that the trip would be worth your time. I have another suggestion for you. Felen could mix a potion to help you sleep.”

“I don’t think so. I don’t want to drink yet, either. I guess most drunks don’t start out to be that way.”

“I’ll leave it to you to ask, then. That will be all for today, Jerric. I hope that we will see you here tomorrow.”

“You will. I’ll be in and out every day with my gear here, so I’ll be easy to find if you think of a job for me. And I’ll bring that robe back as soon as it’s cleaned. Whose is it? It’s so fine, I’ve only seen that style in paintings.”

Carahil sat silently for so long he began to wish he hadn’t asked. Finally she spoke. “That robe belonged to a battlemage. I knew him long ago. It was my honor to fight by his side, and my lasting regret that his life ended under my leadership. He was a Nord, and he too was born under the Atronach.” Carahil looked up and met his eyes. He saw a sorrow in her that touched his own. “The lives of men are so fleeting, many of my kind cannot be bothered to know you. However, I find that the briefest fires burn the brightest.”

Jerric didn’t know what to say to that. “You’re a spellsword?” he guessed.

“Yes. Does that surprise you?”

“No, it actually explains a lot. I remember last summer when you spoke to all of us students. How did you put it? ‘Practical application is often the best educator in the many uses of restoration, even in life and death situations.’ In other words, don’t be a baby if you get your head cut off, just think of the great practice you’ll get putting it back on again. It wasn’t hard to see which of us hadn’t healed anything worse than a scraped knee.”

Carahil laughed, and the sound was surprisingly youthful. “I see you divined my intent as well as my meaning. It would please me to learn that I had underestimated you.” Carahil rose and gestured to the door. “Until tomorrow, Jerric.”

“All right, Carahil. See you tomorrow.”

This post has been edited by Grits: Apr 5 2011, 01:58 PM

A wonderful introduction to the Fighters Guild and the bundle of hotness that is Azzan (though Rhano isn't that far behind!).

And an engrossing discussion with Carahil about Jerric's place in the Mages Guild. Yes, I can see how eventually he'll have to make a choice sometime down the line.

Given his reactions it seems like Jerric has been to the Anvil FG before, and definitely has crossed paths with Rhano as well.

“I don’t even want to know what she’s got in her basement.”
I wonder if that is a reference to my favorite Rat Lady! (and one of my favorite characters in the game)

And I see it is Arvena Thelas indeed.

Jerric scratched his neck instead of reciprocating the dog’s enthusiastic crotch-sniffing.
Jerric might get kicked out of the man-club for that!

“No, I whistled. I still don’t know any illusion magic.”
This was so perfect!

Jerric ran a skeleton arena in the Mages Guild basement!

A wonderful scene with Carahil. She is one of my favorite Guild Heads, no thanks to fan fics like yours and Haute's, that really put her in the spotlight like this.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Mar 30 2011, 08:37 PM

“The lives of men are so fleeting, many of my kind cannot be bothered to know you. However, I find that the briefest fires burn the brightest.”

And there you have the paradox of an elf who measures her time in centuries, loving a human who measures his time in decades.
Looking back. . . I could have missed the pain, but then I would have had to miss the dance.
The advice I give my elf? If you get the chance to sit it out or dance, I hope you dance.

Wow. I have read this story twice now. You should add ‘writer’ to your list of accomplishments, Grits. I don’t really know what I was expecting, but this has been a revelation. When I last left Jerric he was an engaging Nord who spent most of his time in pursuit of his next forgotten evening. Now he is Jerric Lionheart, Hero of Kvatch and Knight Brother of the Blades. The wonder of this story is that all of this has occurred in the most natural and organic of ways. Jerric’s character has been revealed one complex layer at a time over the course of this story, and there appears to be un-mined depths that are still there waiting to be discovered. What you have accomplished here takes most writers years to learn (if they learn it at all).

I won’t single out every moment that I liked in this story because that would probably require a thread of its own. But I would like to talk about a few moments that really stood out:

The first was Jerric’s initial foray into the Deadlands. Panic drove him through that gate in search of a way to reach his family. I thought that allowing him to find courage in the hilt of a discarded sword was perfect! His fight with the dremora and his subsequent dousing in the blood fountain were handled with just the right blend of rage and horror. I was particularly touched by the unspoken conversation between Jerric and Menian in which the former offered his dagger to the latter through the bars of the cage. The power of that moment was undeniable!

The rousing battle to reclaim Castle Kvatch was another high point in this story, but to me it pales in the brilliant light cast by Jerric and Martin’s journey to Weynon Priory. We see the change in Jerric when he chastises the new Emperor and sets Martin’s mind to thoughts of an uncertain future. I loved how, amid this torrent of sadness that threatens to overwhelm him, Jerric is able to maintain his sense of humor enough to ask Martin if Jauffre will let him have the Amulet in the event of Martin’s death, just to prove his point that the Emperor of Tamriel is too important to lose chasing spriggans.

The love triangle that you have developed between Abiene, Jerric, and (D)arnand adds yet another dimension to this story. Abiene’s confusion and the depth of her feeling for Jerric could be chalked up to the tragedy that has befallen him, but somehow I doubt it. I get that she has a crush on (D)arnand, but it never really seems to move her with the urgency that matches her feelings toward Jerric. I think that her heart has already made up its mind, it’s just that her brain refuses to accept it.

Which brings me to the one thing that I feel the need to call you on: I appreciate and respect your desire to leave toes un-trodden, but I have no copyright protection on the name 'Arnand.' It is a common enough Breton name that it doesn’t strain credulity that two individuals born five centuries apart would share it. If I had been here when you made the change I would have advised you in the strongest words that the forum filters allow not to do it. Now I guess I will just have to get used to calling him Darnand (dammit). In the future please don’t concern yourself with such things. You imbue your characters with so much detail that their individuality is never a question. Your Matius, Maglir, Nerussa, and Carahil are the same character that everyone else gets to play with, but they are all unique as presented in Jerric’s story. I have no doubt that your Arnand and mine would share nothing save a name, a nationality, and (hopefully) three dimensions.

I have enjoyed every moment spent catching up on this story (twice). I salute you on a story well told, and I eagerly await the next update.

My favorite line in the chapter. Jerric stills seems a bit disoriented, but is pulling himself back from the brink of madness and exhaustion that the deadlands took him to. Awesome Write (as always !!!)

haute ecole rider: I kept trying to get Jerric to thoroughly check out the Anvil FG’s double threat of Redguard hotness, but he would not cooperate! On their lowest levels I’m treating the guilds as kind of an employment office, I’m glad Jerric’s double membership works.

SubRosa: Yes, Jerric has some history with the FG and Rhano. His job took him back and forth between Kvatch and Anvil for years. The Rhano history that you spotted will come out in time, I'm glad you pointed it out. Carahil seemed so straight-laced in the game until her bitter rant about forgetting the little people. It’s been fun trying to figure her out. I’m glad you liked the skeleton arena idea. Pre-Dagon Jerric was a fun guy! More Arvena coming up next.

Acadian: We are in complete agreement here. (emoticon for shedding a tear for someone else’s bowgirl?)

Destri Melarg: I am amazed, honored, and skipping in circles over your comments. You read it twice! Even while you were away, you were the invisible reader that made me want to get it right. Thank you so much, Destri!

That moment with Menien in the Deadlands was one of the reasons I wanted to tell the whole story in the first place. I couldn’t just walk away from that.

I love that you pointed out the Amulet joke on Martin and Jerric’s off-road trip. The connection they made kept Jerric from just wandering away after they got to the priory, and finding his humor is what reminded him that there still is a Jerric. Of course he did wander off for awhile, but it’s a process. It almost hurts to write about their friendship, knowing that there is a big stone statue down the road. The ‘escort Martin’ bit can be handled in the game with a fast-travel, but for me it’s one of the most important parts of the story. That you described it as a brilliant light will stay with me.

You’re right on the mark with Abiene and Darnand, and Abiene and Jerric. The first relationship I think is a weak spot in my storytelling. She says she likes him, but I haven’t given her the chance to show it. I’m still looking for an opening in the story, it hasn’t felt right to work it in yet. Her confusion stems from heart vs. brain, you’re exactly right. Then she gave her lady parts a vote, and we’ve seen where that led! For the three of them, the story has really just started.

Thank you for the reassurance on the (D)arnand matter. That’s my insecurity coming out. Some things are so clear in my mind, I think I must have read them somewhere else. Then to find that I might have, yikes!!

mALX: For men and mer I think it must be a tiny bit like it is for humans and dogs, in terms of lifespan. We know they’re going to break our hearts, but we let ourselves fall in love anyway. I guess this analogy only makes sense to dog lovers!! You’re right about Jerric’s mental state. He’s still having unreal moments, sleep issues, but at the point where he can sometimes seem better, even to himself. It’s a little bit two steps forward and one step back.

What just happened: Jerric joined the Fighters Guild and picked up a contract. He stopped by the Mages Guild hall to talk to Carahil while he was in the neighborhood. He’s still there.


Chapter 10: Septims, Part 2

Jerric found Felen reading in his day room off the front hall. He paused to take in the sight of the nattily dressed Dunmer. Felen’s sculpted tower of charcoal hair gave him over a foot of additional height. All that blue velvet and gold braid, and never a drop or a crumb spilled on it, Jerric marveled. “Well met, Felen,” he said warmly.

Felen put down his book and stood, smiling up at him. “Jerric, it pleases me to see you. Observe, I have closed my book and placed it out of my reach. You have secured my full attention.”

Jerric smiled back. “Thanks. I lost my Journeyman seal. Carahil said I should ask you to evaluate me before I get a new one.”

“Easily done. Follow me.” Felen led him the three steps to his alchemy counter. He retrieved a jar and opened it, handing it over to Jerric with a flourish. “What do you make of this?”

Jerric looked in. A fine, gritty substance half filled the jar. It looked like sand that was made of translucent grey glass. “Never seen this stuff before, what is it?”

Felen raised his eyebrows and gestured eagerly with the lid. “You tell me.”

“Oh, a test.” Jerric stirred the sand with his fingertip. He sent his magicka cautiously into it, now aware of what he was doing. Its properties came to his mind the way taste and smell told him what spices were in a slice of pumpkin bread. “Well, I could use it to make a potion for resisting fire damage, or for an elemental frost shield. Or I could make a poison that would silence, or cause some frost damage. Don’t know what it’s called though.” He handed the jar back to Felen. “I guess Journeyman will still pay the rent.”

“It is salt from a frost atronach. Collection is quite risky, it is very rare.” Felen replaced the jar and retrieved an ornately carved wooden box. He opened it with a flutter of magicka and grey-green fingers. Jerric watched him select an enchanted seal and inscribe his name onto the blank end. He would use that end to mark the potions he made, and the emblem on the other end to show his rank when he made them. Felen handed the new seal to Jerric. “Congratulations, Associate. You now number among the experts in alchemy.” His expression looked slightly pained.

Jerric turned the seal in his hand, delighted. “Expert! What’s the problem, Felen? Sigrid thinks I’m a natural at alchemy.”

Felen shook his head and made a sound of disapproval. “I am afraid you will find my assessment less flattering. I suggest that you are a battlefield alchemist. Long hours of toil have made you an expert. Labor you undertook primarily to relieve your stunted magicka, I imagine. I see you do not disagree. A natural alchemist possesses a passion for detail, like a baker. All variables are considered, then precisely adjusted for the best result. You fling ingredients together with a casual disregard for technique. ‘Some’ is not an accepted unit of measurement. You are a cook, not a baker.” Felen patted him absently on the forearm. “I mean my counterpart in Kvatch no disrespect. Sigrid lacks only a few decades or so of my experience, but she is a fine instructor and alchemist in her own right.”

“Well,” Jerric replied archly, “Expert nonetheless.” He raised his new seal with a grin. “Now, can I help you cook up some potions?”

Felen chortled with amusement. “I can always use your delightfully titled ‘Tame the Volcano’ potion. You will find that you are now able to add dragon’s tongue for a stronger effect. There is a large supply down in the workroom. Happily, that potion is expected to be foul tasting and cloudy.”

“As long as the symbol appears on the vial, it’s a sellable potion,” Jerric pointed out amiably. “The rest is just aesthetics.”

“Indeed.” Felen’s expression looked slightly pained again. “Since these are intended for sale, I must remind you to refine the mixture until each potion fits into only one vial. We cannot expect our customers to drink from the alchemy apparatus, as your hapless patients undoubtedly have.”

“Battlefield alchemist. You said it yourself. I’ve never had someone complain about my technique while their life is bleeding out on the ground.”

Felen’s expression grew serious. “Apologies, Jerric. It seems more important to strive for perfection in the safety and comfort of one’s guild hall.”

“Don’t worry about it, Felen. Do you know I’ve been drinking my magicka potions out of an old water skin? Ha! Thought you’d like that. You’re right about everything you’ve said. I’ll be back later to make those fire shields. Right now the Fighters Guild has me on a critical rat killing mission.”

“Will you want the coin or credit?”

“Coin, please. I have bills to pay. Say, do you know where Arvena Thelas lives?”

“The Rat Lady, I certainly do. Oh my, Jerric, you cannot mean you are to kill Arvena’s pet rats! She does go on about them.”

“Pet rats? I don’t know, I’ll make sure I ask her. Who keeps rats for pets? Is she part goblin?”

Felen chortled again. “No indeed. Any explanation I might make will pale beside the experience of meeting the lady herself. Follow me to the door, I shall send you off in the correct direction.”

Jerric made his way through the morning crowds without turning any heads. He realized that without his Kvatch Wolf to identify him, he was just another Nord in a busy port town. The anonymity gave him some comfort.

Jerric’s knock was answered by a slim, well-dressed Dunmer woman. Her white hair was streaked with glistening strands of silver, and her bright red eyes gleamed in her narrow, turquoise face. Jerric thought she looked like some sort of living jewel. Although certainly a somewhat wrinkled jewel.

“Ahhh… You must be from the Fighters Guild,” she cooed. “Good. I have a problem. It has to do with the rats in my basement.”

“Yes ma’am. I’m Jerric.” He guessed that this must be the right place.

“That’s right. Rats, in my basement.” Her voice reached a higher pitch. “And something has been killing them! It’s horrible. My poor babies! You must do something! I don’t know what I’d do without them. Their little pink noses, their scaly little tails. Please, get to the basement and find out what’s happening!”

Jerric felt seized by Arvena’s sudden urgency. He pushed past her and headed around into the ground level room, guessing that the basement lay behind the only door there. He was right.

“Please, save my little rats!” Arvena’s anguished cry followed him down the stairs. An enraged snarl rose up to meet him. Agitated squeaks sounded a note only slightly higher than Arvena’s wail. Jerric briefly imagined Azzan holding his sides with laughter. Then he turned a corner, and his humor fled. The image of Azzan was replaced by one of Arvena with her throat torn out. She did indeed have rats scurrying about her basement, and she also had a mountain lion. The lion lunged back and forth between the terrified rats, seemingly unable to choose which one to eat.

Jerric didn’t think, he just drew his borrowed sword and went for the lion. “Shut the door!” he shouted up to Arvena. Her answering shriek was drowned out by a yowl from the big cat. When it turned, Jerric drove his blade in behind its shoulder, angling his body so he could take its fangs on his shield.

The lion dropped to the floor like a stone, leaving Jerric stunned at his own foolishness. His shield was at Morvayn’s, along with his armor and the rest of his gear. He had taken on a mountain lion without even the protection of his Woad. What was the expression, he tried to remember, it’s better to be lucky than good? He knelt and ran his hands regretfully over the dying lion. It looked sickly and weak, but still capable of mauling an elderly Dunmer lady. He wondered what could have brought it in out of the sunlight to die here underground.

Jerric cleaned the iron blade, then he took a look around the basement. Four rats appeared to be in comfortable residence there. He found their silver water bowls and food dishes near a large nest of rugs and chewed up cushions. He knelt down and held out a piece of cheese, hoping to coax the rats to him. They’re pets, just like Mojo, he told himself. And if they give me a disease… well, they won’t be the first.

The rats appeared to be unhurt, so he looked for the mountain lion entrance. He found it around a corner at the back of the basement, next to the rat privy. A large hole in the foundation had once been repaired with loose blocks, which were now moved aside. An area outside the foundation had been excavated and covered from above with loose boards. Daylight slanted down between the gaps. It appeared that someone had been using the opening to shovel rat droppings up into the yard behind Arvena’s house. Jerric could see that the lion had simply pushed through the boards to gain access to the basement. He headed back upstairs to report to Arvena.

The Rat Lady greeted him with wringing hands and a tragic expression. “Well, what have you found? Did you take care of my babies? What was going on down there?”

“Ma’am, do you have four pet rats?” Arvena nodded eagerly, and Jerric breathed a sigh of relief. The lion had looked hungry enough to have swallowed one whole. “Well, I found a mountain lion attack- uh, chasing them. Don’t worry, I killed it. The rats look fine.”

“A mountain lion?” Arvena’s voice began to climb the scales again. “In my basement? But… How? That’s not possible. But, it happened! What if there are more? What if it wasn’t alone? Where there’s one there will be more. Find Pinarus Inventius. He’s a hunter, and knows this area inside and out. He’ll know what to do.”

Jerric made sure she was finished answering her own questions before he spoke. “I think you should let me block up that opening, or get someone else to do it right away. Do you have someone who comes to clean? They might need to find another way to get the rat ski- that is to say, rat droppings outside.”

Arvena did not appear to have heard him. “Please, go find Pinarus, and those mountain lions!” She was wringing her hands so hard, he thought she might hurt herself.

“All right. I’m going to tell the Anvil Guard, too. In fact I’ll show them the lion. I bet they’ll wonder how it got inside the city.”

The city guardsmen Jerric passed in the street were able to direct him to the Inventius house, but none was willing to take responsibility for the animal Jerric had slung over his shoulders. He discovered that if anything garnered more attention on the streets of Anvil than his Kvatch Wolf, it was a dead mountain lion.

A sleepy-eyed, heavy-jowled Imperial answered Jerric’s knock at the Inventius house. “Yes?” the man asked with a remarkable lack of interest.

Jerric shifted his burden. “Uh, I’m a… I’m from the Fighters Guild. I went to kill some rats, but she had a mountain lion. In her basement. She said to talk to you.” The Imperial continued to stand there. “I’m Jerric,” he added.

“Pinarus Inventius,” the Imperial finally responded. “Hunter. Funny, it's always 'rats' for the new associates. Is it some initiation test or something?” Before Jerric could answer, the man waved him to the side. “Put that around back, I’ll deal with it. I have a contract with the city for such things. Although mountain lions… that’s odd. But if they’re around, I can find them.” Jerric walked to the rear of the Inventius house and eased the lion carcass to the ground. He looked around to discover that Pinarus had followed him. “Come with me,” the Imperial offered. “A hunt will do us good, and maybe make that old nut feel better.”

Jerric sighed and glanced down at himself. His Ma had been right about him, he decided. He never could make it through a full day without ruining a new shirt.

The conversation between Jerric and Felen was wonderful - my fave line in it:






ROFL !!!




ROFL !!! If that is in game, I have missed it !!!


Great rendition of that quest, and as always an Awesome Write !!


*

I loved your version of Felen, though he is a little more - prissified - than mine. Still, he is a delightful person and brought a smile to my face as he spoke to Jerric and tested his alchemical knowledge.

And the classic 'rats' case! You've captured the old bat wonderfully!

Well put.

Observe, I have closed my book and placed it out of my reach. You have secured my full attention.


We cannot expect our customers to drink from the alchemy apparatus, as your hapless patients undoubtedly have.
I loved the entire exchange between Felen and Jerric. It was as delightful as it was instructive.

And if they give me a disease… well, they won’t be the first.
Doh!

In fact I’ll show them the lion. I bet they’ll wonder how it got inside the city.
This is what never made sense about this quest to me. Are we to believe the lion jumped over the city walls? Or maybe it climbed them with a rope and pitons? Or perhaps it simply walked through the front gate disguised as a Khajiit? As much as I have always liked this quest, and wanted to put it in the TF, I could never come up with a plausible explanation for a mountain lion wandering around inside a major city. However, I just came up with a new idea on this old quest. Scribble, scribble, scribble...

A fun episode as ever. I have always loved the Rat Lady. I can't believe the fuss people make over a few rats...

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Apr 6 2011, 03:14 AM

I agree with hautee and 'Rosa, the entire exchange between Felen and Jerric was sensational. As was your handling of the first part of this very weird quest.

My favorite part of this chapter, however, is how Jerric so thoroughly and completely describes and encapsulates Pinarus Inventius by mention of his 'jowls.'

@SubRosa - It was always my understanding that the lions burrowed their way under the city wall. I know you never find a hole, but it makes more sense than going over the walls.

Felen patted him absently on the forearm. “I mean my counterpart in Kvatch no disrespect. Sigrid lacks only a few decades or so of my experience, but she is a fine instructor and alchemist in her own right.”
Whew! I'm glad to see no disrespect toward the lovely and talented Sigrid!

The scene with Felen and Jerric was fabulous. You really brought Felen to life and I simply love what I shall now think of as 'Alchemy - Jerric style'.

He realized that without his Kvatch Wolf to identify him, he was just another Nord in a busy port town. The anonymity gave him some comfort.
I hear ya, Jerric. Fully understood.

Who keeps rats for pets? Is she part goblin?”

Sometimes it is simply wonderful to see a well-known quest completed from the perspective of someone else's character. My goodness, you did beautiful justice to this!

“Please, save my little rats!” Arvena’s anguished cry followed him down the stairs.
Passages like this create a truly immersive feel here. It is a simple sentence but one that pulled me right behind Jerric going down that staircase. Almost a magical creation of the feeling one gets doing this quest in the game.

Rat privy - how clever. Sure enough, if you put four rats in a cage, they will reliably all pee in the same corner.

Well, I don't want to finish off my comments talking about rat pee, so let me simply tell you how much fun this episode was to read!

Chapter 9.1:

A very interesting twist on the Anvil Recommendation quest. Those two battlemages are never any help at all! Good that Jerric the Lion was there to save the day!

It is very clear that Jerric is not taking to his responsibilities as a hero very well. He's just running on an adrenaline haze at this point, and it is certain that he is not very sure what he wishes to accomplish. He's just... there, closing gates with not a single though to his own safety. This is quite typical behavior for someone who is unsure of what they are living for, and Jerric certainly qualifies now. He has had his family torn away from him and he cannot see the light at the end of the tunnel Jauffre convinced him to enter. All he has left now is Flash, and I'm not sure he is in any state to lose him, as well. That might just be the final straw for his sanity, which is currently on the fringe of earning him an invite to Dementia. Hopefully, he'll bounce back, but that is a long, hard road to walk, as I feel he is not going to be very willing to accept the fact that his family is now dead.

mALX: The rat privy is a Grits embellishment. I figured they have to go somewhere, and that led to how the hole in the wall got there in the first place. Anvil has some quests that really need more explaining!!

The line you picked out from Felen really captures my vision of him, thank you! I love the excellent names for things that other people come up with in their stories, so Fire Shield had to have a new one. Thank you, mALX!!

haute ecole rider: Oh, Felen! I mean, that outfit! Those shoes! He’s definitely a peacock in my version. But he rolled up his velvet sleeves and led the Kvatch relief effort from the Anvil MG, no doubt keeping his hair pouf upright throughout. I’m glad Jerric’s affection for him (and mine) came through. Arvena is a character that I wanted to present unchanged from the game, she is a riot!

Cardboard Box: I wish I could take credit for that line! Pinarus said it when he was stepping out of his house in the game. In full daedric armor, no less. I guess Jerric was standing close enough to him to trigger a rumor. I couldn’t believe it!

SubRosa: When I pictured Jerric and Felen in Felen’s little alchemy nook, the whole scene jumped to life on its own. I’m glad it worked! Now I can say without spoiling anything that Jerric is not a natural alchemist.

A new idea, yay!! I love to hear scribble, scribble scribble… You would think that urban lions would have caused more fuss than a few sweet little pets. What’s next, slaughterfish in the mermaid pool?

Destri Melarg: Felen and Jerric clicked in a way I would not have predicted, I suppose they share the capacity to enjoy people. I love that you picked out Jerric’s jowls observation, because I learned that at the school of Destri’s Interregnum! The guard with the bad teeth? Inspirational! I’m glad you liked the first part of the quest, the next part gets even weirder.

Acadian: I’m glad you enjoyed Jerric and Felen. I expect a Dunmer of Felen’s age has seen it all, but he’s still not tired of it. 'Alchemy - Jerric style,' I am delighted!!

I’m glad you’re enjoying Jerric’s charging in to save the rats mission so far, this quest is right in his wheelhouse. He’s certainly not one to over-think a situation. I don’t think you’ll be surprised at how this one ends up, either.

Thomas Kaira: You’re right, Jerric had not been sticking with the plan, nor did he resist the temptation to lose himself in those Gates. He saved Darnand from a terminal case of freezer burn, but who knows if he would have stayed on the road all the way to Anvil if Darnand had not been there to walk with him. I’m glad you’re still reading.

What just happened: Jerric has been busy helping Arvena with her Rat Problem. We left him on the doorstep of Pinarus Inventius, about to set forth on a lion hunt.



Chapter 10: Septims, Part 3

Jerric sat at the dining table in the Fighters Guild hall, working his way through a stack of ham sandwiches. Most of the Anvil chapter had gathered to share a few pitchers of beer and exchange tales of the day. Sten the Ugly refilled Jerric’s mug and slid it back to him. “So, did you find the mountain lions?” Sten asked him.

Jerric took a deep pull from the mug. He closed his eyes as the cold brew washed down his throat. It’s been too long, he thought. Vigdis kicked him under the table, bringing his attention back to the room. “We found them,” Jerric answered. “A family group, like Pinarus thought. The big female was injured, looked like the younger ones were hunting for her. Maybe daedra drove them down toward town. The marks on her looked like scamp claws, and she was burned. Anyway, we found a bunch of chewed up bodies. The Guard is working with the Legion to find out who they are.”

“Folk have gone missing along the road to Brina’s Crossing,” mused Azzan. “We’ve blamed it on the daedra. I suppose some of them could have been lion kills.”

“I suppose,” Jerric replied. “They were in bad shape. The lions were. Hungry. Don’t know how they got over the city wall, but that’s not my problem.” He took another long drink. “Still, it wouldn’t hurt to run around the outside of the city and take a look. Could be a tree down against the wall or something. Yeah, tomorrow I’ll go check.” The others were giving him a variety of looks. “What?”

Azzan snorted. “Well, was she happy when you told her you killed the lions?”

Jerric shook his head. “You would think.” He continued to tell them the story.


Arvena yanked open the front door at Jerric’s knock. “You’ve got to take care of those mountain lions!”she shrieked into his face.

“We did! We—”

“You think you’ve gotten rid of them all?” she cried. “You do? Well, you haven’t! There’s one in my basement right now! Go get it!”

Before he had time to think, he found himself pelting down the basement stairs again.


Jerric had plenty of time to tackle another sandwich while his guild mates howled in delight. Even Rhano finally cracked a smile. “So you killed that one, too,” Rhano guessed. “And hauled it over to Pinarus I bet, like a good little helper. That doesn’t explain how you missed lunch and dinner.”

Jerric gave him a level look. “Well, there’s more.”


Arvena met him at the top of the basement stairs. Her narrow hands fluttered over her hair and gown, smoothing away her agitation. “Thank the gods you killed that thing,” she gasped. “This is ridiculous! Someone’s out to get me, to get my poor babies! I’ll bet it’s that Quill-Weave next door.”

“What..?” Jerric started to ask, then he mentally kicked himself.

Arvena’s brilliant eyes narrowed, and her voice cracked with anger. “She’s the one. She’s never liked me or my sweet little pets. I know it’s her, I’ve even seen her sneaking around in back of my house at night. She thinks she’s so smart. She and all the other women. I’ll show her! I want you to keep an eye on her. Find out what she’s up to.”


Jerric nodded his head as he swallowed his last bite of ham. He chased it with beer. “Of course I did what she asked,” he continued. “Go ahead and laugh. I stayed behind her house for five hours, hiding in a bush. Yeah, hiding. I guess it started working when it got dark, because sure enough Quill-Weave sneaked around back and left a piece of meat on the ground. Lucky for me I had to take a piss. I saw her when I stood up. Otherwise I’d still be under that bush, probably asleep by now. Anyway, it was her.”


Jerric stepped over in front of the Argonian, blocking her passage. “Yes?” she asked nervously, taking a step back. “What can I do for you?”

“I know what you’re doing, Quill-Weave. It has to stop.”

“You know what?” she demanded, glancing rapidly to her left and right. “Well, I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about. I would never go skulking about…” She began to flick her fingers as if they were wet. “Fine. You’ve got me. I figured if I left some rotten meat outside, the nasty little things would come out, and the guards would take care of them.”

“Mountain lions followed the scent. They broke into her basement. She could have been killed.”

“Mountain lions! In her basement? I just wanted to lure her vermin outside! I didn’t mean to hurt anyone, except the rats. Please, don’t tell her! And, if you can keep this our little secret, I can make it worth your while. There’s a bit about acrobatics I can teach you. Give it some thought.”


“You could use some help with your footwork,” Rhano told Jerric.

“Yeah. I sure hope I can find someone else to train me.”


This time when Arvena answered his knock she stepped back, allowing Jerric to walk into her sitting room. He looked toward the cellar door, almost expecting another crisis.

Arvena’s demeanor remained calm, at least for her first question. “So, did you follow her? She’s behind it, isn’t she? Tell me what you found out!”

“Quill-Weave was behind it.”

“I knew it. That s’wit! Oh, I’ll get her. You just wait! Must have taken some fast talking to get her to confess.”

“Not really. I’m not so good at that. I guess the part where I stood there in the dark being a Nord was enough to get her talking.”

“Maybe I can teach you a little bit more about how to talk to people. You could present yourself in a more professional manner. And, of course, I need to give you your payment.”


Sten thumped his fist on the table, sending Jerric’s plate briefly into the air. “Dammit, Vigdis! All the gold I’ve given you to train me, and I just needed to stand in the dark being a Nord!”

Vigdis reached over and slapped Jerric’s arm. “Now you’ve cost me. No Nord will ever want to improve their skills if they need only wait until nightfall!”

Huurwen wiped the tears from her eyes. “Take comfort, friends,” she laughed. “A new career in nocturnal diplomacy awaits each of you.”

Azzan shook his head, directing his comments at Jerric. “Well, I don’t know if you’re dumb or honest. Or maybe she’s just nuts. I have your payment from the guild. Thelas already settled up with me. Sounds like the coin she gave you is her special thanks, or maybe you did something else for her. Ha!”

“I did haul two dead lions away,” Jerric admitted. “And I gave her a hand in her bedchamber. By the time she finished with me, I’d sweated off the blood and started to beg for mercy.”

“Is that what happened to your shirt?” asked Llensi. The Dunmer raised a mug gracefully to her lips.

Jerric looked down at his bare chest. “Skitt! I left it at Arvena’s. Well I’m sure not going back for it. She’ll talk me into putting a new roof on her house or something.”

“It is Evening Star,” Llensi remarked.

“So I’m told.”

“Fear not,” Huurwen told him. “You are not the only Nord at this table who cannot keep track of their clothing.”

“Yeah,” said Sten. “You’d think we wouldn’t mind, but Vigdis has more hair on her chest than you do.”

Huurwen spoke over the laughter. “I believe you were telling us how your client exhausted you in her bedchamber.”

“A lady like that has better taste,” Rhano pointed out. “What with rats for pets, and all.”

Jerric grinned ruefully. “She had me shift two big wardrobes in there. Looking for a lost rat toy. Then I couldn’t get them back just right. Turned out the fetching thing was under a chair the whole time, so in the end I left her happy. I’m sure this isn’t the last I’ll hear of it, though. That Quill-Weave is a writer, she’ll likely put a rat-humping Nord in her next book. You can say you knew me when.”

Azzan spoke. “We knew you when you were an Associate. I’m promoting you. Congratulations, Apprentice.”

Jerric raised his eyebrows. “That was fast.”

“Worried? I guess closing Oblivion Gates isn’t as hard as it sounds. If you don’t think you can handle it, I can send you tagging along with Pinarus again.”

“No, thank you,” Jerric replied fervently. “I need another contract. Do you have any pet mudcrabs that need looking after?”

“I’ve got something. You’ll want your gear back from Morvayn first. Talk to me when you get it.”

Sten drained his beer mug and stood, sliding the clay pitcher toward Jerric. “I’m turning in. You staying tonight, Jerric?”

“No, I guess I’ll head home in a bit.” He glanced over at Rhano. The Redguard gave him a small nod, but didn’t speak. “Better finish off this beer first.”

Vigdis shoved her chair back. “Who has the swamp tonight?”

“Rufrius,” said Llensi. “He is still out on his date.” Jerric gave her a quizzical look. “The bedchamber adjacent to the barracks, we call it the swamp. It has a door, so you can imagine it is much in demand. When no one of rank is passing through, of course.”

“You share that room for..?”

Rhano snorted. “We take turns using it, for privacy. Fullo makes sure the sheets are changed every week, right Fullo?”

“Whether they need it or not,” confirmed Fullo.

Azzan stood and headed for the stairs. “I’ll go get your gold, Jerric.” The dining room emptied until only Rhano and Jerric remained at the table. Jerric poured the rest of the beer into their mugs. He sat back and waited.

Rhano was the first to speak. “You been over to see Mother and Fa?”

“Not yet. Tomorrow, I think.”

Rhano nodded. “Mother asked me to invite you for Saturalia. She wants you to spend the night, like we’re still kids or something.”

Jerric looked across at Rhano for a long moment. “So, are you going to get over it and train me? I need your help, Rhano.”

“You have the coin?”

“Not yet. I’m working on it.” Jerric couldn’t read Rhano’s expression.

“I know some people who have work,” Rhano finally told him. “Maelona, she’s a Redguard. Short hair, real pretty. Sits under that tree in Westgate all the time. Maeva up in Whitmond. Her no-good husband ran off on her.”

“I know Maeva,” Jerric said. He made a gesture in front of his chest. “The Buxom.”

“Yeah, well they’re down here now. The years have not been kind.”

“Thanks, Rhano.”

“You know my Fa will hire you.”

“I know, and I’m grateful. It’s just that I’m not going to be here long.” He could tell Rhano knew what he meant.

“They want to see you, Jerric.”

“I’ll go. I should have gone already. It’s hard, Rhano.”

Azzan came down the stairs and dropped a small leather bag on the table next to Jerric. “Here you go. I guess you’re not ready for credit.”

“Not until I get my gear back, then I’ll want some training. I need to talk to you about that, Azzan. Have you thought about what I said?”

“I’m not ready to make that decision. Think about your terms, maybe we’ll talk tomorrow.”

Jerric drank the rest of his beer. “I’m headed home,” he said.

He’d had enough drink to loosen his mind, but not enough to numb it. Black thoughts began to rise up as he made his way along the empty beach. He could feel the abyss inside him, now that he had left the busyness and chatter of other folk. He knew how easy it would be to look into it and lose himself in darkness. A cold sea breeze cut through his thoughts, and he clung to it.

It really is Evening Star, he thought. He gave himself a sniff and winced. I’m already cold, might as well get clean. He stripped down and dove into the sea, scrubbing the rest of the dried blood away with sand. One of his rings kept him from drowning, and the other assured him that there were no threats approaching. He swam until he thought he might be able to sleep.

As he headed up the beach with his trousers in one hand and his boots in the other, he noticed light in the windows of his hut. By the time he reached his front porch he knew that someone within had built a fire. The someone’s pinkish glow appeared to be sitting in his chair with their feet tucked under them. Jerric pushed the door open and stood there on the threshold, dripping. She sat with one of his books in her lap and a clay cup at her elbow. Her smile started to warm him from the inside out.

He dropped his boots by the door and grinned back at her. “Abiene,” he said.




(Edited to add clarifying statement.)

This post has been edited by Grits: Apr 21 2011, 11:55 AM

Jerric has been to the Clarence Thomas school on how to pick up women the easy way ... just expose the goods and good things will happen ... er ... develop ... er ... something like that.

I loved the comaraderie in the dining hall of the Fighters Guild - you have a huge talent for creating natural dialogue that is so believable one can visualize the scene as if watching it in a film !! Awesome Write !!!

This post has been edited by mALX: Apr 11 2011, 08:04 PM

That, and the responses around the table to that line was enough to get me chuckling.

Then this had me laughing!


But this had me rolling!

And: Isn't that sweet!

Is it just me, or do ypu also think that Pinarus Inventius should be some kind of inventor?

I see you have been taking inspiration from haute on telling a story in flashbacks! Good idea. It really works here, not only showing us what happened, but also how Jerric is getting along with his new FG pals at the same time. Sort of a two for one deal.

Jerric reminds me of a St. Bernard me family had when I was little. He would get 4 sandwiches for dinner every night. He would wolf them down too. Two bites, and a sandwich was gone. You had to watch your fingers if you fed him, to make sure you still had them afterward!

Lucky for me I had to take a piss. I saw her when I stood up.
That is our Jerric!

the part where I stood there in the dark being a Nord was enough to get her talking


Speaking of how Jerric is getting along with his new FG pals, I see he is settling in nicely! I loved the conversation at the table between all the guild members. And some mystery with Rhino Rhano. The way he talks about Fa makes him sound like a Nord. Not to mention how he said "mother", rather than "my mother", makes me wonder if they are related...

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Apr 13 2011, 11:36 PM

The scene inside the FG was very active. Lots of new FG members introduced here and multiple brief flashbacks. Initially, I assumed that the italicized flashbacks were Jerric's internal thoughts. Then I began to realize that it seemed your intent was that he was verbally relaying this information to the FG members - I think. Forgive me if I misunderstood.

Once outside the FG, you really opened up a bag of magic goodness! Jerric's thoughts walking home, and discovering a guest at his hearth was magnificent! Your description of Jerric using his rings was brilliant.

Using the flashbacks to tell this chapter was inspired. The banter between the Fighters Guild members really brings the Anvil Chapter to life.

My favorite quote of the day!!

I wasn't sure of it at first, but I thought I sensed a history between Jerric and Rhano that went beyond the surface hostility. That was confirmed in this chapter. Rhano acts very much like a foster brother toward Jerric, I wonder what caused the tension between the two?