@SubRosa- I could not resist that little bit of Cyrodiilic latinization…. Wow- I guess Magnificent Seven is so ingrained that I forgot from whence I was borrowing. More recruiting goodness (I hope) follows.

@Acadian- Thank you, as always. I still stand in awe of your ability to create atmosphere and inhabit it with wonderful (and sometimes less-than-wonderful) people. Like many children- Athlain could not learn judgment at home, even though it was on offer. Fortunately, he got a good trainer at Fort Darius. As for Flaccus’ background- see below.

@mALX- High praise indeed from such a wonderfully inventive and descriptive writer. My humble thanks and apologies for the continuing absence.

@Olen- You summarize perfectly what I was hoping to convey- which means I succeeded! And yes, he still goes on what he “sees” and “feels,” rather than using his other skills to discover the truth. That will be tested again in the future in a much more serious situation.

@Destri- To make a master word-crafter such as yourself envious of one of my passages is highly gratifying. Athlain is cursed with the knowledge of what good swordsmanship IS, without being able to practice it himself. Afer Flaccus… affairs… are explained below. And yes- your words of wisdom on how to continue strike a responsive chord with me- thank you.

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

Afer gave an ironic bow at my delicacy of phrasing and smiled thinly. “Oh, purely personal.”

He leaned back in his chair and looked at the smoky ceiling. The smile grew slightly broader.

“There was a young lady in Leyawiin- and another in Bravil. Somehow, each of them got the idea that I was a good marriage prospect. Things were proceeding wonderfully until it turned out that the two of them were distant cousins. Letters were exchanged- the usual correspondence between cousins.”

He pitched his voice in a falsetto- “Did you HEAR about what Whosis wore to the castle ball? I swear I have seen better draperies in a peasant hovel. And then there was that fellow that Whatshername showed up with…. Speaking of which- I may be about to become affianced.” He cleared his throat and continued in a normal tone,

“After a few letters, with a few too many details, had passed back and forth, several other relatives became involved- the kind of relatives who have broad shoulders, large fists, and one eyebrow that seems to grow across all their foreheads. In sum, I decided ice and snow and wild Nords were a healthier alternative than staying around the Lower Niben.”

Flaccus’ talk of marriage reminded me suddenly of Athynae and the ruse of our “betrothal.” With that memory came a sharp pang of loneliness, as well as my own smile at our brief time together at Thirsk. Then there was the less-pleasant issue of the apparent marriage contract with Duke Dren. But she was no doubt safely installed at Indarys Manor by now, where Mother would see to her well-being…. In my mind, the stuffy tavern was replaced by the airy rooms of my former home. And the smell of spilled ale and of men who had worked long hours underground gave way to the aromas of flowers and fresh bread. At last, the Imperial broke into my thoughts by tapping his mug carefully on the table and asking:

“So- how about it? Hiring on as a guard strikes me as being less exciting than mining, and I could do with less excitement in my life. Besides, it might be better for me to be above ground if any- ah- relatives happen to show up here.”

I had been so lost in my reverie that it took a moment before I understood what he was saying. I nodded apologetically and reached across the table to clasp his hand.

“Yes. Certainly- all I ask is that you try to avoid any such… complications while you are here. And, a bit of friendly advice- Nord women generally carry weapons- and they don’t bother to wait on their relatives to settle- misunderstandings.”

Afer’s ruddy complexion paled a bit and he took a hasty gulp of his drink, then stood and muttered rather briskly:

“Right you are. Glad for the opportunity. Now, if there was nothing else?”

He suddenly seemed to be in a great hurry to leave, but then turned back and added:

“Don’t know how many you are looking to hire, but you might consider Gratian Caerellius- he’s a steady man.”

However questionable Afer Flaccus’ judgment might have been regarding his personal life, his assessment of Gratian matched my own. After locating the Imperial, I engaged him in a few moments of conversation. That was enough to let me know I had found my second guard. Gratian did not have the usual gift for easy speech that characterized the dominant race of Cyrodiil; in fact, he was taciturn almost to the point of silence. But his gaze was clear and unwavering, and the words he did use were direct and to the point. “Steady” was an excellent description of the man. My final choice came about almost by accident- or more precisely, as the result of a brawl.

The people in Raven Rock were usually well-behaved, or as well-behaved as could be fairly expected; considering they were stuck on a snow-covered island, doing hard manual labor, with few prospects beyond more of the same. Since Solstheim was an island, and one that had a long “dark season,” drinking was more than a just a pastime for many. And alcohol was always a potent catalyst for the simmering tensions between Nords and Imperials and Dunmer. Like most bar fights, no one really knew what started the one I witnessed that evening. A spilled drink, a poorly-considered joke, two people who just did not like each other… it could have been any or all of those things. What I did see were the four or five “active” participants, along with a much larger number of spectators shouting encouragement and advice.

I probably would have let it go- being in the Legion had taught me that it was sometimes better to allow people settle these things with their fists. Trying to clamp down too tightly could lead to a more serious explosion- one that meant serious injuries or even deaths. Let them throw punches or even a chair or two, and they would have some bruises and scrapes. But they might also decide that they really had not been all that insulted, after all. A relaxed attitude was not the same thing as letting down my guard; I kept an eye on things and so was ready when the first dagger came out. Brawling was one thing- murder was another. But before I could get to the Imperial who had pulled a weapon, someone else was already there. A slender Dunmer stepped out of the crowd, twisted the dagger away, and used the pommel to strike the Imperial just behind the ear. The murderous brawler slumped to the floor, and the dark elf faded back into the spectators. If I had not been watching, I would have missed it. And I was certain no one else had seen anything.

I definitely wanted to speak to someone who could move like that- and who did only what was needful. Moves could be taught, but restraint was a different matter. Still, I decided it would be wise to wait until the dust had settled. Approaching that particular elf in the midst of a free-for-all would be about as smart as poking a sleeping Kagouti in the snout- with a short stick. With the Imperial out of things, the other fighters seemed to lose enthusiasm rather quickly. One after another, they stopped throwing punches and took on the sheepish look of people who realize they are making fools of themselves, and can’t quite remember why. The bartender took the sudden lull to offer a free round, followed by last call.

As the crowd headed toward the bar, the dark elf reached down to hoist the Imperial over his shoulder and turn toward the exit. I got there ahead of him, opening the door and letting him precede me outside. He took me in with a quick glance and a muttered, “Thanks.”

“So what are you going to do with him?” I asked, indicating his burden.

“Toss him in one of the ore bins to sleep it off. Most I can do. He needs to be put on the next ship out of here, but I don’t have the authority. Truth is, I don’t have any authority at all, beyond the fact that I’ve been watching Nasios here for a while.”

I nodded my understanding and said, “Would you like to change that? The part about ‘authority,’ I mean? And- if you want to ship that fellow out of here, I’ll back you. My name’s Athlain, by the way.”

He shifted Nasios like a sack of meal and stuck out his hand for a quick shake, “Garnas Uvalen. And what do you mean?”

By that time, we had reached an ore silo, and I slipped the latch so that Garnas could drop the now-snoring Imperial inside. When I closed the door, the Dunmer faced me squarely, his red eyes giving away nothing of his thoughts. He folded his arms and told me,

“I’ve seen you around, of course. You’re Legion- and you ‘do things’ for Falco. If you can help me get rid of that pile of guar-droppings Nasios, I’ll listen to what you have to say.”

I met his direct gaze with my own. “Good. I saw what Nasios did in the bar, and I’ll tell Falco about it. Besides that, the colony needs guards, the sort who don’t lose their heads in a fight.”

Then I pointed at the hilt of Nasios’ dagger sticking out of the elf’s boot-top. “And especially guards who know one end of a blade from the other- and which one to use. You could have stuck that in his kidney, and no one would have known.”

Garnas smiled briefly and responded, “Not to start things off on the wrong foot, boss, but- you would have known.”

The smile disappeared and he added, “And when I stick Nasios, I want him to SEE it coming. I want to look into his eyes. Is that going to be a problem?”

This post has been edited by treydog: Apr 26 2011, 02:32 AM

Ah, Nord women. Ladies after my own heart. Or sometimes, just after me for a few days while I'm in town, and not embarrassed at all about it.

It's a great introduction and recruitment of our three guards for the colony. A lot better than "Hey, do you want to be a guard instead of a miner?" "Eh, sure." "Great, get to Falco and then pick up your gear." "Okay!"

But this takes the cake:

Ahh, sizing up potential guard material. Julian says Athlain really knows his stuff. Her initial impression about him still rings true, in her opinion. And she will back him up as he backs up Garnas Uvalen in getting rid of a certain Imperial.

I had to laugh at Afer's description of how he came to Solstheim from the kinder climes of the Lower Niben! Especially the relatives with broad shoulders, large fists and single eyebrows!

Ooh look, the moon got bloody again! (have I ever mentioned that the title of your story makes me think of menstrual blood?).

Afer's story certainly meets the funness quotient that we have all come to expect from BotM. Athlain has certainly conjured up an interesting bunch of guards for the colony. Each unique in their personality, and each the right man for the job. I cannot wait to see them all in action!

Welcome back!

It is hard to pin down exactly the how and why, but I have always been enthralled by your style. And here is no exception. From the humorous words between cousins to the herd of Nordic relatives to the Dunmer with his amazing skill and restraint . . . and I could go on.

And thank you for the reference to our dear Athynae.

What a pleasure to read!

I agree with Acadian on the immersive and moreish nature of your writing - I think it's the combination of dry humour with more serious themes and events. It cerainly works very well. Afer's back story was brilliant, you built a lot of character on that alone, though his worry at hearing about Nord women... well...

The bar fight was the perfect way to introduce the final guard. It stopped it becoming samey and gave a bit of a thrill for the end of the chapter. I also wonder if Garnas might have a bigger part than the others...


Brilliant line, very Athlain/ BotM.

I look forward to the next piece. :pleading puppy eyes:

What a treat to come back to !!! Athlain gives the impression of being laid back, but his mind is quick and always moving - this chapter is a great example of that !!

Here is my fave line:



Perfect little touch of Athlain meeting someone whose mind is as quick as his own, and his humor just as subtle! Loved this line !!!

Your ability to develop very different personalities in the cover of one chapter is amazing!! Welcome back, Treydog - it was such a wonderful surprise to find an update to BOTM when my electricity came back on !!!!

I read The Story of Trey first, so it has taken me some time to catch up with Athlain in Raven Rock. This story has been a joy and an inspiration to read, and I am now among those who keep a hopeful eye out for your next update. I have not played Morrowind or Bloodmoon yet, but I don’t feel left out of anything. The insight into Nord culture has been a particular delight. Athlain the Brave had me in stitches, and it still makes me laugh when I remember it out of the blue. Now I see why Athynae has poems written for her! She is captivating and mysterious, especially when seen through the veil of Athlain’s emotions. Athlain’s wry humor makes his struggles even more poignant.

I loved the whole introduction of Garnas, from Athlain’s first observations that set the scene all the way to Garnas’ chilling last remark. Garnas is one of those characters that you have made alive and memorable in just a few sentences. I love this story!!

Ok fans I need some assistance from each of you that has been captivated by this story. Trey is dragging his pen and thus I and Athlain are hanging in limbo waiting for him to show us what happens next. Since he gave me this existence and I am now not only animated but also have become a person in this story I find it quite difficult to sit idly by while he twiddles his thumbs AND MAKES ALL OF US WAIT!!!!! I am sure that the suspense on your part is quite profound, imagine it from my perspective, I am sitting silently somewhere with a mouth and brain full of words waiting to be shared. If he doesn't get a move on I may have to show him just what kind of swordswoman I truly am ( of course I would hit him with the broad side and only on the left side, so when he does decide to share more of our story he will be able to do so)

Your part is assisting me with pelting him with entries or spam or whatever it takes to stimulate reactivation. His writing is something that must be shared, and he knows that!!!! Silly knight that he is. Can I count on your help?

It is a wonderful story, and the truth is even more incredible!!!! but that's a whole other story in itself and may remain a secret for eternity.

Athynae

*


Okay, you asked for it !!!



I feel a pain
from missing Athlain
And though I'm not gay
I miss Athynae
Unless you want to see more of these prose
You'll add a chapter before everyone throws
up.

* Anon E. Mouse

******************** And now for some real torture:


The hunting dog scented along the ground as he ran. The trail was a long one. It started with the afternoon sun beginning to settle across the horizon. Now the early morning fog mingled with the steam that rose in a mist off his heaving flanks. A tiny grey squirrel clung to his dampened neck, her nails clutching tightly into his undercoat; her eyes masked by a blackened band of ragged cloth.

Sighting his prey, the hunting dog arched his head to the air, still on the full run. A low sound rumbled deep in his stomach and rose up through his gaping mouth. The baying heralded his arrival like a trumpet may herald the arrival of a king.

As he neared the object of his search he slowed. He was not the first to arrive. On the doorstep was a large wolf, his thick fur the color of a virgin snow. Beside him stood a slender fox, whose shiny black coat could easily cause him to be mistaken for a mink. (not minx) His eyes were cunning though. He had been the first to arrive.

The black fox eyed the newcomer for an extended moment before slowly dipping his eyelids for a sliver of a second; allowing the newcomer to approach.

The three set up a baying at the doorway of their prey. The ghostly howl of the winter wolf floated in the air as if part of the wind itself. The dogs deep bays nearly drowned out the soft yips of the black fox; almost, but not quite. The high-pitched chatter of the squirrel bombarded the little dachshound's ears like the keening of a banshee; even through the thick walls of the structure surrounding him.

Inside the safety of the barricade created by the walls and stout doors of his home, the long haired dachshund climbed over the back of the couch and peered down to the trio on his doorstep, then his eyes fell on the offending squirrel clinging to the back of the large hunting dog; all now illuminated by the early morning light.

With a sigh, he turned his head away from the sight, staring across the room as if seeing beyond the interior walls. A soft rustle caused him to look up in time to catch the motion of his wife gliding into the doorway, her long red hair gleaming in the morning light that was just beginning to filter in through the windows.

"Not again?" Her eyes showed sympathy for the little dachshund, but her mouth formed the words, "You know what you have to do."

Drooping eyes scanned across the room and fell on the metal box of the computer, the keyboard had a light film gathering from lack of use. With another sigh, the little dog climbed into the chair, pushing his paws down on the button that would set the computer whirring. His paws hovered over the keyboard, and then suddenly an inspiration hit.

"Yes! Yes!" He barked excitedly. His paws flew over the keyboard in a flurry of activity.

Hearing the tapping sounds emerging from withing the structure, the black fox, the winter wolf, and the hunting dog turned and silently slid into the mountains around them like ghosts evaporating into the forests of pine; each returning to their respective dens to await the food that would sustain them.

"Aaahhhh" They all sighed contentedly when the words came across the screen, "Blood on the Moon - Part 2, Last post by: treydog.

******* Hunting Dog

******* Hunting Dog Sad Faced Due To No Updates On This Thread:

****** Hunting Dog Climbing 15 Foot Up Tree To Peep In At Long Haired Dachshund

******* Sad Gray Squirrel (mALX)

******* Black Fox (Foxy)

******* Winter Wolf


*

Son of Trey was how they saw Athlain
Until he made his way into the world
Now ‘Athlain the Brave’ has earned his fame
So why do we all want to see the girl?

Red hair and violet eyes have Athynae
Her spirit bold, her mind sharp as her blade
Her absence brings Athlain (and us!) dismay
A swift return might silence this tirade

They say the tide of love flows strongest when
Each is distant from the other… one
So won’t you please once more take up your pen
Athlain could drown before your tasks are done!

And so we beg for more, dear dog of trey
We miss our bold Athlain and Athynae!!!

Let me put it this way, Trey.

If you still birth this story I will be pissed, and one thing you can be sure of is that you do NOT want me to get pissed with you.


W.R.I.T.E!!!!

My thanks to each of you for your assistance, surely now, knowing how strongly we all desire to know how our dear hero and heroine are fairing in their quest to each other Trey will quench our thirst for more.

Dear Athynae is sitting silent
Held on an empty page
Waiting for a word to fall
To know what happens next
Is Athlain in trouble
Or is he finding his way home
She's hoping, in silence for someone
to lift this writing hex

Follow your heart
Trey the pen master
Find your way back
To our story
And write what remains
Of Athynae and Athlain
Until we reach the end
And a complete word inventory



FINE!!!!!! You know this isn't over!!! I will harass you through eternity if that's what it takes to get this story finished!!!!!

With deepest affection,
Athynae

Trey, when I grow up someday, I want to write like you. I know you produce at a glacial pace (your words, not mine) and I am well aware of the volume and longevity of your work. Those things keep me from being overly concerned, for I know you will find your mojo and come back to us.

Somewhere beneath a starry sky, dances the mesmerizing flame of a campfire. An old dachshund patiently waits. A fiery red head, who is much less patient, gives 'fine' lessons to a blond wood nymph about loving an imperfect but heroic man. A black mare snorts and scrapes the ground with a hoof. The winter wolf is curled up with the dark fox. A faithful hunting dog lifts its muzzle and looses a forlorn bay at the twin moons above. All await the master's return.

Excitement... lots of new posts.

Dismay... no more Athynae.

Trey, I'm hoping whatever block your having, be it literary or RL, dissipates soon. It's summer now, the ideal time to sit with a laptop, a drink and a cat in the garden and write under the shade of the old tree.

And to add to the running metaphor:

Far across a pond swollen to vast proportions by drift even slower than glacial the dragon emerges from his lair looking to see what new treasure awaits. Finding none new, here at least, he returns to the dark underground and to his quantised oscilations in a box.

It is bad enough when your characters take over your keyboard. But then, they begin talking back, get keyboards of their own....

And before you know it, they are riding on guars with boys.

(Ducks rotten vegetables, inkwells, brickbats, and other thrown compound word type objects.)

Okay! Okay! I am writing! I promise I am. Should be something new by this weekend.

My dear, wonderful friends, thank you for your kindness, your patience, and your interest in my story.

As for you, Athynae- how would you like it if a badly-aimed Telvanni spell caused that new red hair to fall out? Just saying....

GAAAAH !!! Her hair has always been red !!! (at least for the last almost two years !!! )


Please don't let our beloved Trey
Scare you away, oh Athynae

*

There isn't a chance in Vvardenfell of his idle threats causing me pause, I am here for the long haul, to see this through to the end.

As for you Trey, I would take care hurling spells and such, it could just reverse itself and you'd be the one to end up bald! All that long blonde hair left for the birds to make comfortable nests.....Need I remind you just who I am?

Athynae

Trey, you must safeguard those golden locks of yours! I think you'll be ok with Athynae as long as she doesn't worm her way into your avatar or anything crazy like that. Be careful if that happens.

GAAAAH !!!

Shred his cuirass, burn his socks;
But please don't singe his golden locks!