This is turning out to be a very detailed and enjoyable dungeon crawl! The encounter with the zombies is dynamically described and I really felt as though I was there in the ruins with your three characters. As ever, Jerric's personality is straightforwardly hilarious.

The stench hit him, and he gagged a little. His mouth filled with cold spit. You can throw up later, he told himself.
.
.
.
“I did,” Darnand replied calmly. “It would be useful to—”

Jerric bent over and hurled the contents of his stomach onto the stone floor. The sound of splashing covered the rest of Darnand’s statement. “I beg your pardon,” Jerric coughed, with as much dignity as he could muster. He turned his head and spit a few times to clear his mouth.

“It would be useful to have them turn on one another instead of fleeing,” Darnand continued without comment.


Brilliant timing to have Jerric cut Darnand off mid-sentence. And Darnand is typically understated in his reaction. Quite a pair, those two! I laughed, heartily.

Lildereth also is coming to the fore with some nice character fleshing. Whilst her basic personality type was clear in previous episodes, we can see the results of that in this episode. It is clear that is the introverted, silent, observing type, but that comes up trumps here as she is calm enough in the heat of battle to notice Jerric's quieter movements, and suggest to him that he move that way outside of battle to avoid detection.

This post has been edited by Ceidwad: Jun 18 2011, 02:19 AM

Well done! A fight among three allies, two summons and three zombies is a lot to keep track of, yet you rendered it with perfect clarity. Clear enough to smell it! It was great to see Jerric a little more in his element (swinging a blade). Wonderful comaraderie developing among the three amigos.

In this episode, no less than three times, you caused me to ask myself questions, formulate a theory, then you confirmed my theory. This is a fun thing and makes the reader feel good when they 'get it right'. See what I mean:

1. You mentioned that a zombie's fur was smoldering. I thought about that for a moment and figured you meant a Khajiit zombie. Very shortly you confirmed that. Neat.

2. You described at one point that Precious and Darnand's flame atronachs were fighting each other. I did a double take on that, then thought about it. Summon gone rogue? Turned by a foe? Friendly fire? Then, sure enough near the end of the episode you suggested that it was friendly fire.

3. As Jerric was spraying spells, I found myself getting concerned about his atronach birth sign stunted magicka. Sure enough again, by the end of the episode you confirmed that he was indeed low on magicka.

This ability to provide 'loose ends' that you proceed to neatly tie up with a bow is quite a skill you have. As I said, well done!

Wow, you just get....better and better! The action had me on the edge of my seat, and of course...Jerric just keeps getting more 'Jerric' in every post!

An exciting, smelly furball, with daedra vs. undead vs. humans. I don't blame Jerric for tossing his cookies. I bet like tauntons, the insides of those things smell even worse than the outside. I thought the description of the khajiit zombie missing its lower jaw was a good touch. We never see khajiit (or Argonian) undead in the game. The addition was a nice touch, show us how you are breaking away from the game, and making the story your own. Many fan-fic writers never get to that point.

I was going to point the finger at Lildreth for not pulling her weight in the fight, when later we found the dead necromancer whom she had shot. So she is proving her worth after all. I see she is mellowing out somewhat too. The way she stole Jerric's canteen and then offered it to him was very cleverly amusing.

mALX: Well, Jerric did say that he throws up a lot! I completely forgot to put a barf warning on this section. I’m sorry!! I’m so glad you’re enjoying the three of them. You’re right, they can all just be themselves.

Ceidwad: Thank you for your kind words! I’m glad you’re enjoying it. To hear that Jerric made you laugh is delightful, as I so enjoy the humor that you weave throughout Gwen’s diary.

Acadian: Jerric was quite relieved to start swinging his blade, and quit clowning around in dark hallways. I am so delighted that the way the details were revealed seemed to work. It can be tricky for me to get the explaining in and still keep the POV! I’m glad the camaraderie is coming through, Lildereth can sound a little harsh. Thank you, Acadian!

D.Foxy: A long delay between posts usually means I’m struggling with a fight. To hear that you enjoyed it means so much to me! Thank you, Foxy!

SubRosa: I remember how impressed I was with the zombies that Teresa and Chance encountered, and how they were so individual. That inspired me to think about making mine more interesting than the game shows us. Lildereth needs a bow like Teresa’s in her video, otherwise you will not catch her messing around with zombies! A distracted necromancer at his desk is a target more to her liking. I’m glad you enjoyed her stunt with the canteen.


Where we are: Jerric, Darnand, and Lildereth are sneaking up on some necromancers.


Chapter 11 Holidays: Part 5

Jerric knelt in the final passageway, watching Lildereth fiddle with her arrows and vials. Warm light flooded out into the corridor, casting them into shadow. He felt like a coiled serpent before the strike. The waiting might be harder than the fight, he decided. His teeth felt gritty from his magicka potion. He heard a man in the chamber ahead speaking with a Colovian accent, answered by an Altmer’s nasal tones.

“All I’m saying is that you could buy more ham and bread,” said the unseen Colovian. His tone was peevish. “These onions and cabbages have to be prepared. I did not come here to drudge for you!”

“Your base nature reveals itself through your petty concerns, Domitius,” sneered the Altmer.

Lildereth nocked an arrow and vanished with a flicker of magicka. Darnand crept up beside Jerric. The Colovian continued to bicker with the Altmer, both of them still out of Jerric’s sight.

Jerric had an idea. “You should wear my helm,” he whispered to Darnand. “Fire shield.”

Darnand shook his head. “No time. Besides, they won’t use fire in their own dwelling.”

“It’s stone,” Jerric pointed out.

Darnand glared at him. “Will you—”

A commotion began in the chamber. “Domitius!” came a woman’s anguished cry. Jerric lunged to his feet and charged the last paces down the corridor. As he ran, he heard the air in the chamber rip open with the sound that announced a summoning.

He took in the scene with a glance. Shelves lined the walls. Desks and tables jutted into the room, piled with parchment, books, and litter. Bedrolls cluttered the space between. One man convulsed on the floor with an arrow in his neck. A woman slid to her knees beside him, still calling his name. An Altmer was on his feet, towering over a table near the center of the chamber. A zombie stood beside him, headless and slouched to the side. The Altmer’s eyes snapped to Jerric as he entered the room. The Altmer pointed his hand toward Jerric with a wordless cry. The mer first, thought Jerric.

Jerric started toward the Altmer, pulling frost into his hand. The zombie took a lurching step toward Jerric. The Altmer’s body jerked and spun. A ball of Darnand’s fire burst against him as he fell. Jerric saw an arrow sprouting from the mer’s back.

The zombie couldn’t reach him yet. Jerric turned his attention to the woman on the floor. She began to stand, raising her right hand. Her face was a mask of fury. Jerric cast his frost at her. Her spell interrupted, she fell back to the floor with a cry. Jerric heard a sound like the one Slim made when he returned to wherever he spent his days. The zombie is gone, he thought. The Altmer must be dead. The woman struggled to her knees, hampered by her black robe. A glance told Jerric that Darnand was still out of the way, filling his hands with more fire. Jerric could easily reach her over the Colovian’s body. He drew his sword and removed the woman’s head.

Her skull made a sharp crack when it hit the stones. Her body slumped to the floor an instant later. Jerric heard Darnand’s flare hiss as it dissipated. For a moment the chamber was silent. “I think she was a Breton,” Darnand said from behind Jerric. His voice sounded a little tight.

Lildereth placed an arrow on the table and walked over. She appeared completely unruffled. “Sometimes it’s hard for me to tell Bretons from Imperials. Jerric, keep an eye on that corridor with your ring, please.”

Jerric felt like he needed to run to the lighthouse and back. He still hadn’t learned how to tell his body when a quick fight was over. He considered for a moment while he dug in his pocket for the ring. “That was a pretty good ball of frost I hit her with. I guess an Imperial should have stayed down longer.” He watched the corridor for approaching life signs, but he directed his question at Lildereth. “Did you get that Altmer with poison? I didn’t see you shoot.”

“Good, you’re not supposed to see me. It takes a moment for the poison to kill. Don’t touch that arrow on the table, it’s coated with poison, too. If the woman had kept her head, I would have shot her first and let you two take the Altmer down with your frost and fire. It seems we all had the same idea about the most immediate threat. Jerric, I suppose you don’t mind cleaning your sword.”

Jerric snorted. “Kept her head.” He looked over to find Lildereth watching him. Her eyebrow had achieved an unlikely angle. “Oh, you’re asking why I didn’t use a spell. Uh, sign of the Atronach. Makes me want to save my magicka. Besides, the way she was hunched a little with her chin raised, who could resist a chance like that? I wanted to see if Redeemer could do it. One clean sweep through the neck.” He finished wiping the blade between glances at the passage. “Are we going to move on? The air’s getting a little thick in here.”

“I want to go through these notes before we leave,” Darnand said firmly. “They all wear the same robes. That alone confirms my suspicions.”

Lildereth shared a look with Jerric. “Suit yourself. I’ll scout ahead.” She picked up her arrow and moved silently through the open doorway.

Jerric kept his ring on, glancing between Lildereth’s corridor and their exit. “Look around now, if you like,” he told Darnand. “I’ll watch the doors. Take all the notes, they won’t be too heavy. I think we should burn what we leave behind here. No need to leave it comfortable for the next band of fetchers.”

Lildereth returned while Darnand was tying his stack of parchment into a bundle. “Skeletons,” she said. “I counted eight with hafted weapons and shields, no archers. It’s a huge chamber, low ceiling with support columns. More of this dim blue light. Looks like one Ayleid passageway leading out, and a tunnel recently cut through soil.”

Jerric slipped off his ring so he could see Darnand’s expression. “I saw an axe in the zombie room. I’m going back to get it. I’m not going to nick my sword on a bunch of enchanted bones. We can draw them back into the corridor if they all get interested at once.”

Darnand nodded. His face looked tense and a little eager. “I would like to get some more experience with my flare at various distances. I can turn them if they get too close to me.”

“All right,” Jerric said. “Of course I’ll need mine to get in close. You should carry that necromancer’s staff, just in case. Even if you just use your own spells, you could block with it. I worry that you don’t have any weapon.”

Now Darnand’s voice sounded as composed as it did at the dinner table. “Indeed, my conjured dagger is little use to me. I do not know how to wield it. Along similar lines, I hesitate to carry a staff for the first time into combat. I might present a hazard to myself and both of you. When we return to Anvil, let us discuss my need for defensive training. For today, I will move back if a skeleton gets too close to me. If necessary, my daedroth should be adequate to cover our retreat. Jerric, you must remember to take the turn to the right after the zombie chamber, if we remove ourselves from this ruin in haste.”

“Yeah,” said Jerric. “I looked back at it when we came through, like you said. Course if we’re leaving in a hurry, you’d better be in front of me. I’ll just follow your flapping robe. I wouldn’t mind seeing your daedroth at work, maybe we should start with him. But I guess that would cause some fuss.” He looked at Lildereth. “What would you do if you were here on your own?”

“Slip past them or leave,” she said with a little smile. “My arrows would do little damage to skeletons. But I never would have come past the zombies. Darnand, I suggest we reserve your daedroth unless the skeletons attack in too large a force. Our Nord has anticipated my objection.”

Jerric grinned at her. “First I got a ‘please,’ and now you suggest? Someone found her manners.”

Lildereth’s smile finally warmed her face. “I’ve worked with a lot of folk. Most don’t try to shoulder more weight than is given them. Many attempt to take on less. Assuming you don’t get us killed today, I would like to join you on the Fort Strand job. Get the axe, Jerric, I’ll wait up in the corridor.” She started toward the far doorway, then stopped and turned back. “But I’ll still speak the plain truth, the way I see it. I find it saves a lot of time and misunderstanding.”

She continued through the doorway. “I expect it also saves her from numerous social obligations and encumbering friendships,” Darnand remarked softly.

“I guess when you’re that size, you better scare them stickless right away," said Jerric. "She can always be nice later.”

This post has been edited by Grits: Jun 24 2011, 12:18 PM

What a great couple of chapters! I enjoyed the planning that went into this ruin, that and the scouting. These three are settling in well with each other. I liked that Darnand admits he needs to pull in some defensive training. That's a warrior's mindset - think about what went wrong (or almost did) and figure out what needs to be done so the same thing doesn't happen again; also think about the worst case scenario and figure out what needs to happen to make it come out in one's own favor.

Yes, these combat scenes can be a [honored user] to write, believe me I know what you mean!

And this: Had my mind going places that you may not have intended it to! Stickless, huh? Is that any more effective than castration? Yup, definitely my kind of heroine!

Darnand always surprises me when he shows eagerness to get into a scrap and practice destruction spells - not sure why, lol. I thought he would lose it at the beheading, and not really sure what inner reaction Lildereth had. GAAAAAH! The storms are back, I have to unplug AGAIN !!! ARGH !!! Great Write !!!

'He took in the scene with a glance. Shelves lined the walls. Desks and tables jutted into the room, piled with parchment, books, and litter. Bedrolls cluttered the space between. One man convulsed on the floor with an arrow in his neck. A woman slid….'
Here you demonstrate the perfect balance required during a fight scene. Enough detail to immerse your reader, but delivered with a volume and pacing that does not bog things down when a sense of quick tempo is required. Well done indeed!

'Jerric heard a sound like the one Slim made when he returned to wherever he spent his days. The zombie is gone, he thought. The Altmer must be dead.
How brilliant to use the zombie's disappearance as evidence that his summoner has expired!

'Jerric could easily reach her over the Colovian’s body. He drew his sword and removed the woman’s head.'
I wanted to cheer here. Poor Jerric had been watching the little elf's lethal arrows appearing in the necks of foes. And Darnand was delivering effective flame from afar. It was about time that Jerric really got to show everyone what a Nord with a sword can do! Bravo, Champion!

“That was a pretty good ball of frost I hit her with. I guess an Imperial should have stayed down longer.”
Given the context, what a fabulous way to confirm the target was Breton, with their magic resistance.

'Lildereth placed an arrow on the table and walked over.'
In your last story, I complimented you on delivering a loose end (like the passage above. Then once again, in the passage below, you neatly wrap up the 'why did she do that?' Very enjoyable.
Don’t touch that arrow on the table, it’s coated with poison, too.

Although you know my heart identifies so very much with the shadowy but skittish Lildereth, you once again provided the full measure of justice to all three of our adventurers as they continue to prepare for Fort Strand.

haute ecole rider: I’m so glad you’re enjoying Lildereth’s contribution. Planning and scouting are not Jerric’s thing! Thank you for pointing that out about Darnand. It’s been fun getting him out of the library. There were some awkward conversations that contributed to the term ‘stickless’! Mr. Grits has some friends who might run away when they see me next.

mALX: I think Darnand is such a magic nerd, it’s surprising that he wants to leave his books. But all of his study is for a purpose, as we’re starting to see. Jerric also thought Darnand might lose it at the beheading, so Jerric was surprised, too. I wrote this section and the last one together, but they’re posted separately since they got too long. A couple of Jerric’s unfinished thoughts get resolved next.

Acadian: Thank you for mentioning Lildereth’s third arrow. I’m departing from the game mechanics of one poison at a time, and three enemies would mean three prepared arrows. I’m particularly grateful for your endorsement of Jerric’s quick sword work. As you pointed out, he was ready to show his stuff! I really appreciate your guidance with the pacing and level of detail of this scene. The elements that you mentioned are exactly the things I have been struggling with.

Where we are: Jerric, Darnand, and Lildereth are sneaking up on some skeletons.


Chapter 11 Holidays: Part 6

Jerric and Darnand followed Lildereth to the entrance of a broad, dimly lit chamber. Jerric could see where metal gates must have once closed off the doorway. Squared-off columns supported the ceiling at regular, wide-spaced intervals. Won’t be hard to move around, thought Jerric. The air smelled a little fresher in here. He could see the skeletons’ glows. Three of them slouched unmoving within a dozen steps of where they knelt in the entry. The others paced or stood toward the chamber’s far end.

Jerric spoke to Darnand in a low voice. “I’ll move to the right, same as before. Stay a little behind me so you can duck back into the passageway if you get overwhelmed. Better to decide it’s time to retreat before you’re in real trouble. One hit can break your bones, and that’s very distracting. I may get too busy to look back at you, so yell out if you’re going to change the plan. If you see me fall, summon your daedroth and get back in the corridor. This should be a steady piece of work. Let’s try to keep it from getting too exciting.” Jerric slipped off his ring and put it back in his pocket. He found it hard to judge distance when his enemy was emanating a pinkish glow.

Moving into position got them the attention of the three nearest skeletons. Jerric summoned Slim and sent him to the far group. He heard Darnand’s spell at almost the same time. Darnand’s skeleton followed Slim at a lurching run. Their bony feet clacked against the stone floor, sounding over the clicks and scrapes of the approaching skeletons. Jerric hoped that the enemy skeletons might be confused when they were attacked by what looked like allies. Or Darnand’s summoning could attack Slim, he thought.

Darnand’s flare lit up one approaching skeleton, and a second ball of fire impacted the one behind it almost immediately. He’s casting with both hands, Jerric realized. He felt a moment of pride for his friend. Then Jerric focused on his own fight.

A skeleton had reached him. Jerric waited for its strike, balanced and ready. Years of sparring with Slim gave him confidence. This skeleton carried an iron axe and shield. Jerric timed his lunge so that his axe was in position for his counterstrike. The wooden haft was still solidly attached to the head, but the leather grip had loosened. He kept his attention on his grip as his elbow started the swing. The skeleton’s axe clanged against the stone floor, closer to Jerric’s feet than he liked. He whipped his wrist down, sending his axe under the skeleton’s shield and through its bony knee. The grip slipped a little in his hand, but he held on to it. The skeleton kept its weapon even as it clattered sideways to the floor.

Jerric glanced back at Darnand. One skeleton lay blackened on the floor, and another jogged away from him, smoking. Darnand pointed to the skeleton Jerric had knocked down. “I’ll finish it.”

Jerric nodded and turned back to the fight. He took a few steps into the chamber to get out of Darnand’s way. He ignored the heaving skeleton melee at the back of the room, unable to tell friend from foe. He guessed the survivors would come find him. Two approaching skeletons got his attention. They both were about four paces away.

Lildereth flickered into view farther into the chamber. She hurled a small flare at one of the skeletons near Jerric. It stopped and turned toward her. She threw another flare, her face frightened in its orange glow. Jerric watched her stand for an instant, claiming the skeleton’s attention. Then its partner reached him, and he had to look away from her.

Don’t try to rush, he told himself. A mistake will take longer than a properly timed strike. This skeleton carried a silver mace. I want that, Jerric thought. It clipped Jerric’s shield as he started his swing. His axe missed the knee, sticking into the femur. The impact jarred Jerric through his shoulder. He let go of the axe and danced back, swearing.

Lildereth had disappeared. The skeleton she had scorched turned back toward Jerric. A great clatter and hissing arose from the back of the chamber. Light flared around the skeleton that had Jerric’s axe imbedded in its leg. It turned and loped away. “Here,” Darnand said, beside Jerric. He looked a little wide-eyed. He held out an iron mace with an oversized head.

Jerric took the mace, and Darnand backed toward the door before Jerric could tell him to. Jerric turned to meet the skeleton Lildereth had distracted. He felt almost absently for Slim, and found him gone. Eyes on the approaching skeleton, he summoned Slim back to the chamber. As he felt the magical eddy begin, he cast it away from him, past the approaching skeleton. Slim dropped into his view, already facing the back of the chamber. He lurched into a run toward the fight without further instruction from Jerric.

Jerric tested the iron mace while he shifted his feet. It was too heavy for him, but he would rather not leave Redeemer stuck in a skeleton. The scorched skeleton held a long-handled hammer and shield. Jerric worried that his mace would drop at too sharp an angle, and he would miss the knee again. He decided on an overhead strike. It would take more time, but he wouldn’t miss.

The hammer whistled past his chest and clanged against the floor. Jerric dropped his weight behind his shield and planted his foot on the hammer’s haft. He bashed forward and up from his rear foot, knocking the skeleton back. The skeleton let go of the hammer. Not something to try on an orc, Jerric decided. He swung the mace up as he pushed the skeleton’s shield down with his own. His arm guided the mace’s descent through the skeleton’s shoulder and ribcage, letting the weight do the damage. He stepped back, right eye burning. The damaged skeleton still stood, dropping bones. It burst into flame before it fell in pieces. Darnand is earning his coin today, Jerric thought. The shield rang as it hit the pocked floor. Darnand’s voice came from behind him. “Next!”

Trust the Breton to find his sense of humor now, thought Jerric. He ran a few steps to close with another skeleton. This one had lost its shield. Jerric was surprised when it kept fighting after he sent its skull rolling. They can see with no eyes, he realized. I guess that’s the same as no eye sockets. He was sweating with effort by the time the skeleton shattered. Little recoil meant heaving the mace back into position for each strike.

He took a moment to thumb the blood out of his eye. A crash of bones from the back of the chamber was followed by Slim’s victory rattle. Or it could be Darnand’s skeleton, Jerric admitted. At this distance with one eye, he couldn’t be sure. He knew the fight was over when Lildereth appeared in front of him.

“Here,” she said, motioning him down. When he bent, she scrubbed his face with something, then pressed it against his eye. “Hold this. It’s just a little cut under the brow. Probably a bone fragment, since your helm isn’t dented.”

Darnand snorted next to Jerric. He reached out and gripped Jerric’s shoulder. White light twinkled in front of Jerric’s open eye as Darnand healed him. Jerric shared a sheepish glance with Lildereth. “I guess real mages don’t carry little bandages,” Jerric remarked.

Lildereth darted off, so Jerric got out his canteen. He took a pull and passed it to Darnand. His friend looked like he could use a moment or two to finish collecting himself. Jerric took the time to check for surprise injuries and glance around at the chamber.

More of the small, bright crystals were fixed into the ceiling. Their aquamarine glow provided adequate light, but the atmosphere was eerie and uncomfortable. He found himself wondering more about the folk who first inhabited the space than about the ones they just evicted. He decided to ask before they got back to work. “What do you think they did here?”

Darnand cast a spell. Its green glow added to the sickly light. “This was their preparation chamber. Look here, the altar they used for enchanting. It appears to be crafted from rubble. Those hooks on the wall are not Ayleid. From the stains, I expect they used them to make the bodies ready for their rituals.”

The new light showed Jerric a barrel holding torches. He lit one and held it out to the side. “No, I mean the Ayleids. Why did they put light stones in their drainage system? What are these large chambers for?”

Lildereth stepped into the torch’s warm light. “Your big cities have underground levels, for the functions that the citizens don’t want to see. Perhaps you learned that from the Ayleids. I imagine these passages were like highways for the slaves, and maybe work and dwelling places. Who can know? I found the necromancers’ entrance. A hand-dug tunnel, concealed under bushes from the outside. That stone passage leads to a cave-in. They must have come in through the sewer the first time, like we did.”

Jerric tried to think like a necromancer. “Those fetchers in the robes didn’t look much like diggers. We met the tunnel makers in the zombie chamber, I’d wager. Three bedrolls for four corpse pirates. Unless those two mer were humping, I’d say we’re through here. Though there could be another partner out somewhere.”

Lildereth nodded. “Let’s go out through the surface tunnel. Jerric, do you need more time?”

“I want to look through the weapons in here, there was a silver mace that caught my eye. I’ll roll up what we want to keep into some of their blankets. Didn’t think to bring an extra pack. I’ll cache the rest for later. Don’t want to leave weapons lying around. Most of it’s not worth the weight to carry for what Morvayn would give us, but the Anvil militia might have a use for some of it. If you two agree. Won’t take me long.”

Her eyes went to Darnand.

“I saw some things in their living quarters that I should like to examine,” Darnand said. “Additionally, I will need some time with the remains.”

Jerric took a moment to scrutinize his friend. Darnand still looked tense, but calm. No signs of the shakes that had overtaken him after the mage attack on the Gold Road. He was in control this whole time, Jerric realized. I guess that’s important to him.

Lildereth gave another sharp nod. “Jerric, I’ll watch the exit while you do your work. I’ll go help Darnand finish when you get back here, you can stand watch then. Darnand, I’ll give you a hand if they’ve locked anything. Sound like a plan?”

“Indeed,” said Darnand. “As we leave, I shall ignite their furnishings.”

Jerric remembered Lildereth’s face when she had drawn one of the skeletons away from him. She had acted decisively despite her fear. He wished he had the words to tell her. “Yeah,” he said.

They finished their tasks with brisk efficiency. Jerric thought they all must be ready to breathe some fresh air. The mace he found was made of Nordic silver. Holding it felt like finding something he had lost. He wanted Morvayn to take a look at it, but he knew it would be his. He felt a smile crease his face as he tucked it into his belt.

Darnand set the pace back over the dunes to Anvil, since he was the least conditioned to walking with a burden. Between Jerric’s brawn, Lildereth’s feather spell, and Darnand augmenting his strength with a spell, they managed to carry all of the day’s spoils.

Jerric tried not to think about the sodden weight of zombie meat in his pack. He couldn’t shake the idea that what he was carrying deserved a burial, not a mortar and pestle. At least the light wind kept most of the smell behind them. His stomach was unsettled, the pangs of urgent hunger battling with trickles of nausea.

The sun glowed low and cold in the west, and the sea breeze carried a winter bite. A hot bath and a roaring fire would be welcome, Jerric thought. Sadly, his spare clothing was all back at his hut. He decided he could settle for a cold swim and the cozy blaze his fireplace would allow. North Winds Prayer is tomorrow, he remembered. There would be feasting after the chapel services, and bonfires on the beach. And Abiene. Hopefully, he would see Abiene. His heart beat faster at the thought of her.

Lildereth walked beside Jerric. “I could murder a pile of biscuits,” Jerric remarked to her, while his gut was feeling optimistic. “Soft, fluffy ones. Not those flakey rolled biscuits like they make in Skingrad.”

Lildereth swept him with an exaggerated glance. “That’s funny. The white-gold tower of death and destruction, talking about fluffy biscuits.”

“I’m all that of safety and protection, if you’re on the right side of my shield.” Jerric realized something. “Are you calling me pale? That’s a little unkind. Not everyone is blessed to toast in the sun.”

Lildereth answered with another green glance.

“Anyway,” Jerric continued, “You know what thought makes me shrivel? An arrow shot from the dark.” For a moment Lildereth’s face was inscrutable. Then she smiled. Jerric grinned to himself. “Biscuits with a slice of ham, or with honey. I can’t decide.”





This post has been edited by Grits: Jun 30 2011, 03:54 AM

Once again Jerric's appetite makes a timely showing to cut the tensions of battle - even mixed with nausea it prevails, ROFL !!!! Darnand continues to develop as an asset in the battlefield - not sure why that continues to surprise me !! Lol, but I like that side of him that emerges. Awesome Write !!!

'One hit can break your bones, and that’s very distracting. '
Actually, the full context of Jerric's advice to Darnand was very good. This one piece elicited a chuckle though. Very Jerric!

'Darnand’s skeleton followed Slim at a lurching run.'
I see the author's careful observations of game skellies paid off here this simple but highly effective description.

“I guess real mages don’t carry little bandages,” Jerric remarked.'
Heh, Lildereth can dish it out. Nice to see that Jerric is testing to see if she can take it.

'Jerric remembered Lildereth’s face when she had drawn one of the skeletons away from him. She had acted decisively despite her fear. He wished he had the words to tell her.'
Very insightful, Jerric. Buffy would describe what you observed as 'Courage is action in the presence of fear.' Jerric, in his adorable eloquence described it just as well:
“Yeah,” he said.'

'The mace he found was made of Nordic silver. Holding it felt like finding something he had lost. He wanted Morvayn to take a look at it, but he knew it would be his. He felt a smile crease his face as he tucked it into his belt. '
This little passage is beautifully written.

Now, I like Darnand and he has proven his friendship to Jerric. Is it just me or is there perhaps more to his consistent interest in things necromantic that he tries to avoid discussing? I wonder if I'm onto something or simply seeing shadows.

Well. Jerric's little band doing a rehearsal run was a great idea. I think they will fare much better at Fort Strand as a result. Hopefully, Jerric will give his crew a brief respite to retrofit and grab himself some biscuits and Abiene.

Jerric's a bit fussy about his weapons, isn't he? The axe was too sharp, getting stuck in the skeleton's leg. Then the iron mace was too heavy. Let's hope the silver mace (which had a blue glow, but didn't seem to do anything as it clipped his shield?) is the "Goldilocks" one.

He found it hard to judge distance when his enemy was emanating a pinkish glow. I liked this bit of game mechanics. The enchantments aren't always positive, and knowing when to hold 'em, and when to fold 'em, is an important part of adventuring.

And now everyone in the party has shown the others how they can shine. Remind me what they're rehearsing for?

Part 5:

He still hadn’t learned how to tell his body when a quick fight was over.
This was a good nod to the realities of adrenaline.

Jerric grinned at her. “First I got a ‘please,’ and now you suggest? Someone found her manners.”
No kidding. It's about time.


Part 6:

He’s casting with both hands, Jerric realized.
Hey, that's illegal in Cyrodiil! You can only do it in Skyrim.

corpse pirates
An excellent term!

I will need some time with the remains.
Hubba hubba...

And finally a job well done. With loot in hand, fluffy biscuits, ham, and honey await our threesome. The warm up in the necromancer caves has welded Jerric, Darnand, and Lildreth into an efficient team. The marauders at the fort do not stand a chance now!

mALX: Well, the poor guy didn’t get to digest his lunch. Now he’ll need two meals to make up for it. Thank you, mALX!

Acadian: This section should firm up Darnand’s good intentions. You’re right; he seems a little too interested in necromancy for comfort. You’ll see in this section that Jerric shares your concern. Darnand has a lot of ambition, and more power than experience to guide him. He’s looking over the edge with no idea that he could fall. I’m so glad you spotted that! Brief respite coming right up.

ghastley: Preparing to take on the Fort Strand marauders. Eventually. The silver mace is not enchanted. I went back and changed the description to make it clearer, thank you for pointing it out. Jerric was a little bitchy about the iron mace. I think the third one was just right for the Nord Goldilocks.

SubRosa: The more I read about Morrowind and Skyrim, the more I want to work some of their details into this story. Of course, Jerric would be upset if he couldn’t cast with a sword in one hand and a shield in another, so he’d better stay in Cyrodiil. My absolute favorite term for necromancers has to be Cardboard Box’s/Ra'jirra’s “corpse humpers.” I laugh every time I read it.

Where we are: Jerric, Darnand, and Lildereth cleared out a necromancer lair in the Garlas Malatar sewer. (It’s not in the game.) Now it’s North Wind’s Prayer in Anvil.


Chapter 11 Holidays: Part 7

Jerric carefully poured the last drops of liquid into the vial. He placed his retort back on its stand with a clink. Capping the vial, he positioned it in line with the others, awaiting his seal. The symbol appeared in the enchanted glass. Candlelight shone through the potions, showing that they were perfectly colorless. Felen won’t have any complaints with this batch, he thought with some gratification.

Darnand approached down the basement chamber’s center aisle. Only one other table was occupied. Two young associates had their heads together over a text and a set of alchemy apparatus. They looked up and murmured to Darnand as he passed them.

“Good day, my friend,” said Jerric. He straightened his back and idly picked up his knife, pleased at the interruption.

Darnand gave him a nod. “It is a good day. I have been studying those notes we found yesterday. My understanding has increased, along with my misgivings. I would like to keep several of the texts. It will decrease our profit, but I am prepared to reduce my portion of our earnings accordingly.”

“Works for me. I guess we’ll make a few coins off the gear we hauled out of there. I’ll have Morvayn give us a price for that silver mace, and you can take it out of my share. If you and Lildereth don’t object.”

“You have my consent. We might have made more, if you had not insisted upon burying our mort flesh.” Darnand’s tone was neutral, but his eyebrows looked annoyed.

“I wish we could bury all that we left in there, but I think the fire was good enough. That used to be someone’s kids, Darnand. No matter how they ended up undead, making potions out of them doesn’t seem right.”

“It would not have changed their fate. Whoever they were is long gone.”

Jerric tried to sound reasonable. He was sure Darnand had not sought him out looking for a fight. “I’m not going to try to explain what my gut knows is wrong. I’ll apologize for the time you took scraping it off those folk, but not for putting it under ground. Anyway, you’re the one who said that charm over the bodies.”

“An invocation to Arkay, asking for protection under his Law so that the remains might never be raised again. I did not do it out of concern for the departed, but to prevent further harm to the living.”

“I guess you did it just the same.” Jerric flipped the knife in his fingers. “What’s the part about misgivings?”

Darnand’s brows drew together again. “There is evidence of an organized cult of necromancers. I have turned my findings over to Carahil, along with the black robe that we acquired. She will inform the Council of Mages. Necromancy is still legal. Without my discovery I fear our actions yesterday could be interpreted as an unprovoked attack.”

That made Jerric pause. “In a way, it was. I mean, the zombies attacked us, but…”

Darnand waved the concern aside. “I still do not know if this cult is connected to the threat from Mehrunes Dagon, or if they are simply using the disorder to strengthen their position against our guild. Either way, there will come a time when each of us must decide where we stand.”

Jerric snorted, but he watched Darnand carefully. “I guess I already know where I stand. And I remember what you said in the healing hall, after Abiene cut on my face. It was something like, ‘I am not a necromancer. Even though I may know a good zombie recipe.’ ”

Darnand’s face relaxed. “I see that you jest. I did not fully understand the rituals involved until I recovered these notes. Jerric, our plans have not changed. Our travel to the guild halls will require coin, which we have already begun to earn. I will take any information as we find it.”

That was no jest, thought Jerric. He decided to move on. “Should we save the salvage we already have to sell until after the Fort Strand job?”

“I believe we should. Let us focus on watching the fort and making our preparations in the next days. I expect you will find me in the library, should you need to converse.”

“Who’s first on fort watch?”

“Lildereth begins tomorrow night. I advise you to get some rest. Her schedule sounds quite demanding, though it is only sitting still.”

“Sitting still. Just what I’m good at.” Jerric ran his hand through his hair, restless at the thought. “Don’t worry, I’m used to standing watch. I won’t fall asleep. And I won’t start a fight just to end the boredom. Probably.” He gave Darnand a hard look. “Just like you won’t make a couple of rat zombies, just to see if it works.”

Darnand echoed Jerric’s tone. “Probably.” He gestured at Jerric’s work. “These are not the potions we discussed for Fort Strand. What are you making?”

“I finished those this morning. Now I’m working for Kvatch. These are energy potions. Potatoes and onions. I feel like I’m getting ready to cook breakfast.”

“It appears that you will have some leftovers.”

Darnand’s remark bumped Jerric’s mind fully awake. He glanced around the table, wondering what he had forgotten. “Dammit! I didn’t add the potato. Now I’ll have to…” Darnand pinched the bridge of his nose. Comprehension dawned in Jerric’s mind. “Well hump me sideways, I made a potion out of just the onion! Ha ha! Darnand do you know what this means?”

“Yes,” Darnand said shortly.

“Ask me to teach you something. Go on, I won’t charge you.”

“No.”

“Come on,” Jerric wheedled. “I want to hear someone say it.”

Darnand closed his eyes and rubbed his temples.

“Everyone proceeds at their own pace,” Jerric assured him in an instructional tone. “One mustn’t compare one’s progress to the achievements of others.”

“Forget it.”

“I’ll just get one of these lads to ask me, then.” Jerric grinned his delight.

“You ought to go get Felen to make it official first,” Darnand told him. A smile touched his eyes. “Master Jerric.”

“Ha ha! Well, I’ve been the master of one thing for a long time.”

“You need not elaborate.”

Jerric picked up his Expert seal and turned it over in his fingers. “I hardly got a chance to use this.”

“It would not surprise me if you had already reached your mastery when Felen tested you,” Darnand remarked. “Neither of you thought to evaluate how far you had come.”

“Well, some days I drink more magicka juice than beer. And I’ve been making my own since I learned to throw frost.”

Darnand nodded at the table. “You might benefit from better equipment. Though quality apparatus is difficult to obtain.”

“And expensive, I’d wager. I guess this guild issue gear will do for me. Though it would be nice to get a finer grind from a mortar and pestle. When we were in Garlas Malatar, I almost choked to death on a bit of mushroom. Then I thought Lildereth was going to shoot me for the noise I made coughing it up.”

Darnand fixed him with a glare. “Nord, your technique is to blame. If you spent only one additional minute—”

“I know,” Jerric laughed. “I just thought you’d like to bark at me is all. And I was right.”

Darnand looked as if he was biting his tongue for a moment. Then he gave Jerric a small but genuine smile. “Congratulations, my friend. You will make twice as many potions for Kvatch now, if you can resist the urge to fry up your potatoes.”

“I’d need a bigger calcinator,” Jerric said thoughtfully. His stomach gurgled.

“That brings me to my purpose. I knew you would forget to turn over your hourglass. The feast will begin shortly.”

Jerric took a moment to look Darnand over. His hair was smoothed neatly back, and he wore one of his finer robes. Gold gleamed at his neck. Jerric was glad he had brought his good doublet to change into. Probably no time to wallow in the bath, he thought regretfully. He sighed. “What’s my best move?”

Darnand gave him a critical once-over. “Dampen your hair and comb it. You could stand to scrub your neck. By all that is good in this life, I pray you have brought a different shirt. Your trousers are adequate, though you should try to keep your legs under a table if you must wear them. You smell… acceptable.”

Jerric began to pack up his gear. “Thanks. I’ll get to it.”

The sounds of laughter and clinking glassware greeted him when he opened the door to the guild hall’s main level. The chapel offered their services for half of the usual donation in celebration of North Wind’s Prayer, so traffic in the healing hall would have been light all morning. Jerric wondered when the healers had started in on the wine.

The harvest had been good this year, and the winter mild. Everyone seemed to want a reason to celebrate. Good smells crowded Jerric’s nose. Roast meat and spices predominated, but he knew the table would be groaning with winter vegetables, as befitted a late harvest feast. Circlets of evergreen boughs adorned the walls, symbolizing the turn of seasons and hope for spring. Folk had decorated them with bright ribbons and trinkets. Each one represented someone’s prayer of thanksgiving. The wreaths would be tossed onto the bonfires tonight, sending the prayers out to the gods in the smoke.

Jerric caught a glimpse of Lildereth chatting with an elegantly gowned Argonian mage, a crystal goblet in her hand. The wood elf wore a long dress in shades of green. Her hair was swept into a knot at the back of her head, revealing that her shoulders were as tanned as her ears. He indulged in speculation as he jogged up the stairs.

The upper level seemed empty as Jerric passed down the hall to the bathing chamber. The air in there was warm and humid, he guessed from earlier use by those who managed their time better. At least that’s what Darnand would say, he laughed to himself. He stripped to his drawers and filled a wash basin with cold water. New woolen trousers and his doublet hung ready on a garment rack. His small grooming kit unrolled neatly on the stand.

Abiene slipped into the room and closed the door halfway. His heart lifted at the sight of her. Her blue gown made her cheeks look pink, he noticed. He had an instant to admire her knees as she lifted the hem.

Before he could speak, she was pressed against him. Her mouth felt hungry on his. She drew his hand under her skirt, quick and demanding.

“I missed you last night,” she whispered against his throat. “I’ve been thinking about you.”

“Oh gods,” said Jerric, staggering a little. His hip bumped the washstand.

Gulitte’s voice sounded on the stairs. Abiene pulled away and flitted out the door, faster than Jerric could curse. He wrestled his drawers back into place.

Gulitte breezed into the chamber. His eyebrows went up. “Caught you at an awkward moment?” he inquired.

Jerric ground his teeth, tying his laces. This is no time to toss a Breton down the stairs, he told himself.

“We have screens for a reason,” Gulitte continued, indignation coloring his tone. He gestured to the corridor. “There are ladies who dwell here.”

Jerric plunged his head into the cold water in the basin. He could hear Marc droning on. The Jewel of the Rumare, he thought with satisfaction. That’s something to be thankful for. He kept his head under until the water level dropped below his ears. By then Gulitte had gone.

Water ran down his skin, restoring his calm. That’s funny, he thought, looking into the wash basin. I guess it stays air after I breathe it back out. I’ll have to mention it to Darnand.

Abiene didn’t return, so Jerric finished getting ready. He tugged at his doublet until it completely covered his disreputable shirt. The winter holidays, he thought, thumping down the stairs. Best not to think about it.

This post has been edited by Grits: Jul 1 2011, 01:12 AM

Jerric getting caught by Marc Gulitte in a compromising condition - alone ... SPEW !!! Hilarious !!!! The brotherly banter between Jerric and Darnand is perfect, a wonderful reminder of their beginnings in this story - and in spite of the tremendous personal growth both have experienced, it is great to see their friendship solidly intact through it all !! Awesome chapter and Write !!!

It looks like Lildereth has the same susceptibility to water that Buffy does!

And that Abiene! That wench needs to learn how to control herself or lock the door!

I loved the interchange between Jerric and Darnand. They've come a long way since that first chapter! I remember how Darnand thought Jerric annoying and crude. Well, he still thinks Jerric is annoying and crude, but at least he does so with some brotherly/friendly affection.

“Well hump me sideways, I made a potion out of just the onion! Ha ha! Darnand do you know what this means?”
What a delightful way to tell us that Jerric is now a master alchemist! Now, in case there is any doubt about how he accomplished it, this next passage puts that to rest:

“Well, some days I drink more magicka juice than beer. And I’ve been making my own since I learned to throw frost.”
Yes, Jerric of the Atronach birthsign!

Your incorporation and presentation of North Winds Prayer was seamless and provided much to admire in your style. For those who like lore, you were indeed true to it. For those not familiar with TES holidays, you deftly showed us everything we need to know. I suspect both types of readers join me in being equally delighted by the way you did this.

Let me also join mALX and Rider in admiring the charming banter between Jerric and Darnand. I also enjoyed the substantive argument about mort flesh as well as the foreboding discussion of necromancers vs the guild. Oh, and I thank you for the reassurance that Darnand does not seem to be in danger of becoming a necrodude. Probably.

And Abiene the whirlwind with horns makes a quick drive by. Wham, Bam, Thank you man. Gotta go!

'Jerric plunged his head into the cold water in the basin.'
Oh my. I'm hoping Foxy does not stop by and comment on that.

Why yes, I expect Lildereth is probably suntanned right down to her little elven toes. Nice to see her in a dress!

This episode was a rich and delightful feast!

Nit? “Nord, your technique is blame."
Now, this is dialogue here, so Darnand can say as he wishes. It did, however, cause me to pause and question whether he omitted the word 'to' before blame?

I've been meaning to get to this for the past month.

Chapter 1

I like how the story introduces Jerric from the perspective of another person that resents him.

Jerric's already a battlemage eh?

Well I'm hooked. I'll be reading more.

Does Jerric get to vote on which?

Some brilliant bits of humour here!

“I wish we could bury all that we left in there, but I think the fire was good enough. That used to be someone’s kids, Darnand. No matter how they ended up undead, making potions out of them doesn’t seem right.”

“It would not have changed their fate. Whoever they were is long gone.”

Jerric tried to sound reasonable. He was sure Darnand had not sought him out looking for a fight. “I’m not going to try to explain what my gut knows is wrong. I’ll apologize for the time you took scraping it off those folk, but not for putting it under ground. Anyway, you’re the one who said that charm over the bodies.”

“An invocation to Arkay, asking for protection under his Law so that the remains might never be raised again. I did not do it out of concern for the departed, but to prevent further harm to the living.”

Bolded/underlined part made me chuckle. Jerric questioning something? Over his dead Nordic body! And why should he? Trayvond the Redguard is right - "Profaning the remains or souls of the dead is just wrong."

Great little scene there to highlight the different moral perspectives of Jerric and Darnand, despite which it is all good natured. Darnand is clearly of a more utilitarian persuasion. (Ironically, as I recall from a previous episode, when it comes to living women, the roles seem to be reversed, and it is Darnand who takes the view of sex as being more sacred and 'special'. Jerric's response: All women are special. Rofl! Fascinating character-building here, showing us what the boffins would describe as contradictions in the partners' personalities.)

“It appears that you will have some leftovers.”

Darnand’s remark bumped Jerric’s mind fully awake. He glanced around the table, wondering what he had forgotten. “Dammit! I didn’t add the potato. Now I’ll have to…” Darnand pinched the bridge of his nose. Comprehension dawned in Jerric’s mind. “Well hump me sideways, I made a potion out of just the onion! Ha ha! Darnand do you know what this means?

How on earth did that slowpoke ever make Master rank in alchemy?

Gulitte’s voice sounded on the stairs. Abiene pulled away and flitted out the door, faster than Jerric could curse. He wrestled his drawers back into place.

Gulitte breezed into the chamber. His eyebrows went up. “Caught you at an awkward moment?” he inquired.

Jerric ground his teeth, tying his laces. This is no time to toss a Breton down the stairs, he told himself.

“We have screens for a reason,” Gulitte continued, indignation coloring his tone. He gestured to the corridor. “There are ladies who dwell here.”

Look at Abiene leaving poor Jerric in the lurch to face Marc Gulitte! If only Gulitte knew what of those innocent, sweet 'ladies' had just been doing! HER is right; that wench needs to control herself, or at least find the key! Damn women, always leaving us to face the consequences! I'm glad Jerric thought better of taking the 'direct' approach with Marc.