I enjoyed Abiene's preparations for her journey to Innsmouth Hackdirt. If she had been a man she would need none, she would just get on her horse and ride. So what if she was dirty, smelled, and looked funny? But us girls are not allowed to be any of those things.

Potatoes, bland vegetables, and beef. Probably all boiled. So the cooks are British then?

I do love the idea of putting a levitation spell on a chair. But the Cyrodiilic injunction against levitation would render the magic null outside of Morrowind...

On your time off, which you do not have, you wish to travel alone through the woods to assess the condition of a remote community whose village was razed to the ground thirty years ago by the Legion, the specific reason never given, in the event of dangerous cultist activity in the area?"

What could go wrong? I am sorry to keep belaboring it. Having played the game, we all know what it is coming next in Hackdirt. But I am loving this slow buildup. It is how a good Horror director will build tension by showing you the bomb ticking under the protagonist's seat, then go to the protagonist driving down the road, blithely unaware of her danger. Then go back and forth again, showing the time steadily running out. We in the audience are screaming at the screen to get out. But the character of course, does not know what we do.

There has always been a shadow over Hackdirt.

I see what you did here, and love it!

During her walk back to the chapel, Abiene wisely uses her time to plan her next moves in detail – hoping the productive exercise will calm her nerves.

'It was no wonder that he could anticipate my fumbling, no doubt the same as hundreds who had polished this seat with their backsides before me.'
- - Not only funny and clever but highlights the human/elf lifespan difference.

Her meeting with Master Selvilo actually went pretty well and certainly makes things easier than wrestling with her options had he said no.

Even if we did not know the some of the details from the game of what we might expect in Hackdirt, you have set the stage for suspense superbly – as SubRosa noted above.

This post has been edited by Acadian: Sep 23 2025, 08:20 PM

Master Selvilo seems to be an welcome and wise guiding hand considering some of the other haughty Mage Guild members Abiene has had to deal with. Hopefully his warning on Hackdirt is considered.

The calm before the storm.

Seeing as the update is Abiene focusing on details, I'm going to focus on a couple too. Who am I to argue with her?

First up, food.

It's been a feature of the story, all the way through, of getting an insight into the characters based on their perspective to what and how they eat. Jerric, with the more is more plus mead approach (and what a fine approach it is too ), and Abiene with the focus on presentation and seasoning and blending - or lack thereof. Love how you do this

And a three for one this time! Not only is Gureryne brought to life nicely, along with his pipe smoking habits, but also Abiene's curiosity into the mechanical underpinnings and reminding us of Darnand's interest in Dwemer technology. How to fit a lot of character into a very short description.


And I suspect the calm is about to end, along with the scene, on a very ominous warning note.

Previously: Abiene got permission to travel to Hackdirt as soon as the rain stops.

treydog: Thank you, treydog! Now that Abiene has been warned, I’m sure she’ll be even more determined to get involved in Hackdirt’s affairs. But cautiously, as she does not imagine herself to be any kind of fighter. Gureryne surprised me with his chair antics and his affectionate amusement over Abiene. I didn’t know how her mental packing list fit in at first, only that she was doing it. Funny how the characters take the keyboard sometimes!

SubRosa: I’m happy to hear that the slow buildup is working. I drafted part of this chapter in a past NaNo as a standalone story to try a horror flavor and wasn’t sure if I would ever post it. I’m delighted that it’s happening during Halloween month! I was thinking of the mostly gray “boiled dinners” of my youth. My midwestern mom’s spice rack contained only salt. Seriously, not even pepper. Abiene wishes that a British cook worked in that kitchen! Nigella Lawson maybe, or Gary Rhodes! His frozen pea soup is still my go-to for a fast starter. Thank you, SubRosa!

Acadian: Thank you, Acadian! Abiene is much more aware of her human-ness in the presence of elves than Jerric or Darnand are. Exactly, if Gureryne refused she had no plan B. Maybe the rest of her trip will go as smoothly as that meeting.

Kane: Given the warning, if Abiene had more caution than stubbornness she might try to recruit more company for their Hackdirt trip. Thank you, Kane!

Burnt Sierra: I love how food does double duty with culture and character. Also, I love food. It’s been interesting to see how much Abiene thinks about Darnand and what she thinks about him compared to Jerric. Thank you, Burnt!

Chapter 21: Underneath, Part Six

Despite my careful planning, the weather waited over a week before permitting us to depart. On the appointed day I carried my satchel out to meet my rented horse at North Country Stables.

Bongond the ostler saw me coming and ducked under the carriage porch. By the time I reached the stable's turnout, he reappeared leading a tall gelding. The horse's black coat shone in the morning sun. He arched his neck and nudged Bongond as they walked.

Bongond spoke as they approached me. "There are no finer chestnut horses in all of Cyrodiil than you will find at North Country Stables, but Widowmaker here is faster than any of my breeding. Not as hardy, but he'll carry you where you want to go before you know you've left."

White stockings flashed as the horse high-stepped to a halt beside the Dunmer. A matching star blazed on his forehead.

"Widowmaker?"

Bongond's cheeks flushed a darker gray. "That was a jest. This one's called Cyrus."

Cyrus possessed a deep chest, prominent withers, and muscular hindquarters. He returned my gaze with a bold look of his own, ears pricked forward. I was reminded of the hunters of County Leyawiin, and the cross-country mounted events of my youth. Blood sports were not to my taste, but the headlong race across fields and woods made my blood sing. I did not anticipate that the slog through muddy trails with Dar-Ma would hold such excitement.

"He looks as if his name is Thunder," I said, offering him my hand. "Or perhaps Lightning. Are you certain that he will not object to our packs?"

"Trained even to a pack saddle, just as Seed-Neeus requested. Heh! You could put your packs on Theodore and rent a donkey to ride!"

Lost in the delight of silken nose and prickly whiskers, it took me a moment to realize what he had said. "Theodore? I thought this was Cyrus." I squinted at the ostler. "Bongond, have you been tippling already?"

The Dunmer laughed until he choked. "No. Yes! What?"

Bongond's wife Nardhil walked around the side of the stable, leading Dar-Ma's beloved paint Blossom. "By Azura, this mer will be the death of me."

"Good morning," I said to Nardhil. I tilted my head at Bongond, brows up.

"It's his back," she said. "He's probably still tipsy from last night. Drinks so that he can sleep, then wakes up in the night from the drink, and then drinks some more to get back to sleep. Wish there was something for him."

"Nardhil, I am a healer! Why haven't you said something?" I refrained from grabbing the mer's narrow shoulders and shaking my exasperation into her.

Bongond stood solidly on his feet, betraying neither pain nor inebriation.

"We don't follow the Nine." Nardhil closed her lips over whatever else she had been about to say.

"I don't care about that one bit." The hand that was not stroking the horse's jaw went to my hip. "Will you allow me to examine you?" I asked Bongond.

The mer waved a hand in the air, as if shooing flies. "Another time, Abiene."

"We're not cultists, you know," Nardhil said.

I blew out a breath. Cyrus/Theodore snorted in reply. "I know, Nardhil, and I don't suspect you of anything." It would do no good to chastise Nardhil over her lack of trust. For all I knew she had an issue with Bretons. She wouldn't be the first Dunmer who looked at me and remembered the slaves of their youth. I decided to explain it away for both of us. "In these times of trouble with daedra about, I can't blame you for your caution. I've met a winged twilight who was simply delightful, but if she appeared before us now, she would be shot down by the guards before anyone could object."

"He's right about the horse," Nardhil said, tying Blossom's lead to a hitching post. "But if you don't trust him, there's not much for it. Anyway this is guar weather."

The thought of myself mounted on a two-legged creature made me smile.

"Hellooo," a light voice managed to both rasp and warble from the road.

"Dar-Ma!" I said. "And Seed-Neeus! Good morning to you both."

Bongond brought my horse to the tacking area while I exchanged hugs with the two Argonians. Dar-Ma saddled Blossom while I familiarized myself with the rented equipment. The horse stood steady and alert under my hands. Seed-Neeus distributed the parcels from her hand cart.

"Well, what is his name?" I asked Nardhil. "Is it Cyrus or is it Theodore?"

"It's Toby," said Nardhil.

Toby flicked his ears toward Nardhil and then back, swishing his glorious tail.

"Let us have a good journey," I said to Toby.

We had planned a route with the washed-out bridge in mind. The trail to Hackdirt forded several streams, and according to Seed-Neeus even at full spring melt they would be passable. However the bridge that Ravenna had reported as washed-out presented a problem. With a wagon we would have had to go a full day's ride out of our way to reach another bridge, but Seed-Neeus had told us of a place where we could cross on horseback. It was not a maintained ford, but an area where the stream slipped its banks and flooded the surrounding meadows in spring. The path was not marked on a map, but Seed-Neeus told us that we would recognize it as more than a game trail. We would need to ride single file there.

Once we had said our farewells, Blossom and Toby carried us side by side to the Black Road. Their hooves rang on the cobbles and leather creaked under each of us. The slower horse and ox carts passed one another in either direction down the center lane. Dar-Ma and I did not try to converse with so many other folk around us. I kept myself entertained looking at the people on foot and in the carts that we passed.

The cool air still carried a piercing damp, but Magnus shone across a clear sky and beamed through the budding branches of the oaks above us. The only reason I knew they were oaks was because Jerric had told me so, relating the tale of his autumn ride to Chorrol on his paint horse Flash. It was hard to believe that was seven months ago. It seemed that everything had changed.

The Black Road dropped down through the Great Forest on its way east toward Weynon village. By mid-morning the Priory's spire peeked into view. Dar-Ma and I had resolved to stop briefly there for a comfort break and to water the horses, but not to approach the refugee camp or wander in the village.

Still, I thought there was no harm in making inquiries. "Let's use those," I said, indicating a row of outhouses placed nearer the road than the camp. "You go first."

I looked around at passersby while Dar-Ma relieved herself and I held the horses. After I took my turn, I waved to her that I would be back in a moment. Then I picked up my skirts and jogged over to some men leaning on a fence with dry grass stalks hanging out of their mouths. Two wore homespun tunics over rough trousers, and the third wore a leather vest. All three had the type of round-brimmed hats worn by field hands pushed back on their foreheads.

From the way they looked me over as I approached, I suspected they were hard-up for entertainment.

"Good day," I greeted them.

"G'day."

"Aye-yup."

"Miss."

I directed my attention to the man in the striped tunic whose greeting had sounded the most like words. "I'm Abiene Metonne, from the chapel in Chorrol. I'm looking for a friend who may be staying here. Her name is Valdi." I gestured above my head. "Nord girl, about this tall, red hair, and she has freckles. I wonder if any of you have seen her?"

My chosen communicator had the olive skin and dark eyes of a Nibenean. A few days' worth of stubble shadowed his chin and cheeks. "Nope," he said.

"I seen her," said the man in the vest. His solemn expression did not fit his rosy apple cheeks. "She was here for a bit and then gone. Like a lot of young girls with no one beside them. Can't say where they go or where they're from. They just drift on through."

The third man gestured with his piece of grass. "Can't say I blame 'em. Barely food to go around and no work at all. That Bosmer lass would go flat on her back for a piece of bread, she was so hungry. You could walk out into the fields and pick up what you need off the ground, but they wouldn't let us wander."

"Are you saying there's not enough food, they're starving you? And you're not allowed to leave?" I looked out over the fields around Weynon. "Surely there will be work when it's time for planting?"

The Nibenean pointed at the third man with his elbow. "He's talking about the place we came from. There's nothing left to glean in these fields. Some folk in the village caught our lads in their chicken coop. Now the whole town's up in arms about thieves. And we've heard the village is riddled with cultists, and their lads have come sniffing around our girls. Now we're penned up like animals."

I didn't see anything keeping them there, but custom and suggestion could be as restrictive as walls. "Do you know where she could have gone?" I directed my question to Mister Vest. "Or is there someone who befriended her that I might speak with?"

The vest man snorted. "Let her go, miss. There's plenty who need your thoughts that ain't on the run."

He was right, I should just let her go. She was not mine to try to keep, and I couldn't anyway. What would I have been to that young woman had she stayed in Chorrol? I had my chance to help her, and it wasn't enough. Stendarr, guide her steps, I prayed, walking back across the road. Mother Mara, cast your loving eye upon her. Akatosh, show her purpose. My Lady Dibella, some day may she find joy.

Dar-Ma stood chatting at the horses, rocking up and down from heel to toe. "I found out where we can get some water," she said. "I asked everyone who passed until someone knew."

Even Dar-Ma's cheer couldn't bring a smile to my heart, but I put one on my face. "Thank you, my friend. Let's get going." I smoothed my hand down Toby's neck before mounting.

We followed the Black Road south until it turned east, where we took the narrower Fort Carmala road. After a time we passed a pair of weathered columns.

"That's how you would've gone to your Wayshrine party," Dar-Ma said, pointing. "I'm sorry you had to miss it."

"Now we'll have each other's company on the whole journey." This time my smile was real. I reached over and we clasped hands for a few paces.

"Well anyway, I'm glad you're with me."

The turnoff to Fort Carmala marked the end of paving stones. Like many of the ancient forts, this one had been put back to use though partially ruined. I wondered what enchantments had been laid down by the builders to keep the roads solid while the walls slowly fell. Or perhaps the walls had fallen in some prior crisis. Much of my Tamrielic history had slipped my mind as soon as I finished the exams.

Our horses' footsteps thumped on the soft ground. As Seed-Neeus had warned, the Hackdirt road was little more than a track. The land became wilder, with clumps of trees spread out in great natural meadows. I could see antelope and deer, and once a shy fox dashed across the road. This was cattle country, with most of the farmland farther south and at a lower elevation. Farmers tended to stay close to the roads with their Imperial Legion protection. The ranchers kept their own law, or so I had been told. These days folk were more concerned about daedra than ogres, trolls, or goblins, but our old enemies still lived all around us, perhaps closer than we knew. The daedra had disrupted Tamriel's way of life whether civilized, uncivilized, or wild.

"We must be approaching the first ford," Dar-Ma said. "Look how the road drops ahead into those trees."

"Good. We can take a break and water the horses."

"Speaking of, would you look at these puddles? Mother used to let me paddle about in the rain when the park flooded. Can you imagine?"

"I can!" I said. "In Leyawiin Ilonea let me play in the garden when it rained, naked as a newt. Shall we revisit our girlhood at the ford? I warn you, it will be chilly!"

"No!" Dar-Ma's head fins rose and fell with her choking laugh. "What if someone saw us?"

"We haven't met a soul since the turnoff. Our reputations will be safe between us and our horses."

I nudged Toby away from Blossom as they slipped and splashed on the sodden trail. Any lingering resentment over the weather delay faded into concern about the current conditions. Blossom carried on with head low and relaxed, but Toby laid his ears back. His feet made sucking sounds as he walked.

"Let's get out of this mud," I said, raising up in the saddle to look around. "We can— Whoa!"

Toby spun in a sudden circle, lifting both front feet as he jumped. Somehow I kept my seat. He finished standing on the grass above the trail, rigid and snorting.

"Easy," I said, sliding to the ground. My Command spell kept him still.

Dar-Ma and Blossom stood wide-eyed on the trail. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. Give me just a moment. I need to figure out what in Mara's name just happened."

My healing spell found no injury, but my hands discovered the trouble.

"Stendarr give me strength," I said, putting Toby's foot back down.

"What?"

"I'll have to pull the rest of these nails." I sighed, picturing myself knees and elbows deep in mud. "And then find Toby's shoe."




This post has been edited by Grits: Oct 1 2025, 01:32 AM

An idyllic and yet troubling journey. You brilliantly weave in the tensions and doubts that lie just beneath the surface as the empire reels with the impact of the daedra invasion. Troubled times rake up old resentments and fears, as the interaction with Nardhil demonstrates.

Abiene cannot help to want to heal everyone who is in need - even those like Vardil, who seek to leave their injuries behind by taking to the road.

Lovely and lyrical and thought-provoking all at the same time.

A funny scene at the stable. I think I prefer Toby to the other offered names for Abiene’s rented black gelding. And, of course, Dar-Ma will ride her paint, Blossom.

The stop at Weynon was another sobering look into the indirect effects of the Oblivion Crisis.
’That Bosmer lass would go flat on her back for a piece of bread, she was so hungry.’
- - Traveling with a Bosmer lass as I do, this was particularly heartbreaking.

Good job staying on the rearing Toby. Urgh, lost a shoe in the mud – which will likely soon cover much of Abiene as she gets him sorted out. I guess the debate as to whether to get naked as a newt and have a quick cold bath in the ford ahead is settled. . . .

I personally prefer the name Widowmaker over Billy Ray Cyrus.

How many names does this horse have? Apparently as many as the drunken stableman wishes!

Once again some disturbing showing of how current events are affecting people, and leading those with the least power and privilege to be extra cautious lest they invite a pogrom down upon their heads.

Other than all that, we enjoyed a nice - albeit muddy - jaunt through the country. Until Widowmaker/Theodore/Toby threw his shoe. Let's hope Abiene has some veterinary experience along with her human and mer healing skills.

Bah, nothing is ever easy and now Abiene must reseat a horseshoe! Hopefully it will be filled with more luck going forward!

Chapter 19: Moonshadow, Part Eight -- Jerric's party fights the queen, yikes! I'm having trouble picturing what she looks like but Jer calls her a slug as she passes by, so... yuck!

. More thoughts than he was used to having flashed through his mind. -- ha ha, love that! Still, it's remarkable he's fighting the giant pretty much one-on-one.



What's the cupboard reference?

Chapter 19: Moonshadow, Part Nine

What is the tattoo Jerric received? ...is receiving, since it's being done in stages?

I love the description of how countryside morphs into cityscape.

I AM HERE -- Moon shadow part 10

This post has been edited by Renee: Oct 6 2025, 06:38 PM

Previously: Abiene, Dar-Ma, Toby, and Blossom began their journey to Hackdirt. Outside Weynon camp Abiene learned that Valdi had been there but moved on. Just before they reached the first ford, Toby lost a shoe in the mud.

treydog: One of the things I love about Cyrodiil is how beautiful the land is. And the sky. And then every twenty feet, something tries to kill you. It has been interesting to spend time in Abiene’s point of view as she is not a participant in the save-the-world plan. Her focus is what she can do with her own hands, which looks increasingly small as she sees what’s happening outside her area of influence. I wonder what she'll do about it? Thank you, treydog!

Acadian: I think it would be especially awful to come from a culture that’s known for living off the land but be unable or too frightened to go out and get your own food. That was on Lildereth’s mind at Hrotanda Vale when she told Jerric about early spring being the time of empty bellies. Good for Abiene keeping her seat, but she got muddy anyway! “Naked as a newt” still makes me giggle. Thank you, Acadian!

SubRosa: At age twelve and five foot seven I was put on a very tall trail horse and told his name was Widowmaker. I don’t remember his real name, but I still remember that wrangler cackling! He was a pure sweetie and we rode together for a straight week in the Tetons. I always had to find a log or a big rock to mount. I suspect that the adults in our group did not have the hip flexibility to scale Mount Widowmaker, and so they gave him to me. I had the best view from way up there! Thank you, Rosa!

Kane: Ha, I didn’t think about horseshoes and luck! Hopefully she is carrying it the right way up. Thank you, Kane!

Renee: The figment queen looks like a giant snake with a humanoid head and torso and wings instead of arms. Jerric called her a slug to make her mad and get her attention away from Kjestrid and Shamir-do while they were defenseless from her Fear spell. I agree, yuck!

Here’s the history of the cupboard reference: When the group left Bruma Jerric expected to spend that night at Cloud Ruler Temple, so he left most of his gear in a cupboard at the Bruma Fighters Guild. After they got poisoned by figment venom, Jerric mentioned that he had Cure Poison potions back in his cupboard. Kjestrid turned it into a joke when they needed a light source, saying don’t tell me you have torches back in your cupboard (or something like that). In that last section Jerric kept it going by mentioning his missing helmet. He left the helmet behind because it’s his Blades helm that he was told to leave at Weynon Priory so that he wouldn’t be recognized, but he had Lildereth go steal it back for him both because he needed it and so that he could let her in on the plot to save the world without actually telling her. So at the time he didn’t want to wear it in front of Jauffre since he wasn’t supposed to have it.

He's having multiple sessions on the tattoo, and he doesn’t know what it is yet since it’s on his back. Kjestrid said he’d just have to trust her. Eventually he will find out and show it to his friends. And probably a lot of other people, as he tends to take off his shirt. Thank you, Renee!


Everyone: I need a little more time with the next update, so I’ll post on Wednesday this week. (Or at least that’s the plan.) I have been off on adventures! And tomorrow I’ll be off on another one! Good times for Grits, bad times for editing.

Hm. There's a conspiracy afoot!!! Could it be that the secret hidden villain of this story is... stablemaster's? With their ability to muddle minds and confuse names? After all, we learned from ESO the power of Nymic's (learning a Daedra's true name!)





That's the only conclusion I can draw. The Oblivion crisis has unleashed a series of covert Daedric Stablemasters, who have infiltrated society and are weakening the resistance with nefarious Illusion magic.

Or maybe not.

We're edging ever closer to Hackdirt, and are seeing some nice contrasts between the present and the past here. The hardship of the refugee camps, reminiscing about paddling in puddles, even the land itself. I particularly enjoyed this:


Now, close to the goal, even the mud seems to be trying to warn them not to go further... (And I got this in just before the update Bless your real life adventures!)

Beach day was a blast!

Burnt Sierra: Perhaps the horses are daedra who won't let their true names be known. Just wait until the gang starts trying to name cats! If Abiene was the sensible friend in a movie she would have suggested they turn back by now. Too bad Dar-Ma is also not the sensible friend. Thank you, Burnt!

Chapter 21: Underneath, Part Seven

Magnus cast our shadows in front of us as Toby and I turned onto the Fort Carmala Road. Finding the shoe had been a quick and muddy business. Cleaning myself up had taken longer than I hoped. Convincing Toby to continue in a reasonable manner without one shoe had proven impossible.

"It's no use," I said. "I could keep him under a Command spell, but I'm concerned that then I wouldn't know if he actually did manage to damage his foot."

Toby tossed his head up and down, snorting. He took a sideways step on the bare foot, then lifted it up as if the soft ground was made of swords.

Dar-Ma stroked Blossom's neck, her head-fins halfway flattened. "Is it hurt, though? He's acting like it's hurt."

"No. He's just being dramatic." I took a slow breath and let it out. "I don't want to count on finding a farrier in Hackdirt. I know there will be one at Fort Carmala." I looked over at my young friend. "We have a decision to make."

Dar-Ma rubbed her chin spines for a moment. "Let's put some of Toby's packs on Blossom. I'll keep going and you take care of Toby. Blossom will go slower and you will have a chance to catch up."

"I'm worried that it will take longer than we think."

"I'll have to do this run by myself the next time," Dar-Ma said. "And probably leading a pack horse. I might as well be brave now as later."

I exchanged glares with Toby, then stepped forward to hug dear Dar-Ma. "Next time get a pack mule instead."

As Toby and I topped a hill, a crumbling stone gateway came into view. Two legionaries stood one on either side of a movable wooden barrier. The soldier on the left was taller than the one on the right, but otherwise I could not distinguish between them. I led Toby straight up to them and halted at the one on the left's gesture.

"Identify yourself," he said, his tone neutral and his accent Bravilian.

"I'm Abiene Metonne, healer at the Chapel of Stendarr in Chorrol."

"State your business."

I supposed that there was no custom whereby a Legion official introduced himself to random women at the gate, so I established one. "Of course. May I please know your names?"

"Corporal Guntien," said the man on the right. "This here is Corporal Hertzog."

I wondered for an instant if Hertzog was a Nord. "How do you do?"

"I'm fine," said Corporal Hertzog. He looked over at his companion.

"How do you do?" said Corporal Guntien, shaking his head at Hertzog.

Definitely a Nord. "My horse threw a shoe," I said, gesturing to Toby's bare foot. "I have the shoe and he's uninjured, but I'd like to have it back on so I may resume my journey. My friend continued on without us, you see. I don't want to leave her alone tonight."

The two men spent a moment looking me over, then looking Toby over, and then glancing at one another.

"What's in the packs?" said Guntien.

"Mostly trade goods from Seed-Neeus, who is the owner and proprietor of Northern Trade Goods in Chorrol. I'm told the bridge to Hackdirt washed out, so I am helping her daughter Dar-Ma pack her goods in for trade." I patted my satchel. "This bag is mine."

The two men exchanged another look. Then Hertzog moved the barrier, while Guntien waved me through with a crisp motion from the elbow.

"Follow the signage to the farrier," Guntien said. "Don't attempt to sell your goods or unpack your bags. If you decide to do some healing, report to the healer's tents inside the bailey wall. Whores work on the other side. If that's why you're really here, just go straight over and they'll get you sorted."

"Thank you," I said, inwardly rolling my eyes at the notion that I might need to contrive a purpose for coming to a Legion outpost if I intended prostitution. It also pricked my pride that healers and whores seemed to rank the same here. But perhaps the two groups simply needed similar access for the troops and similar security measures.

"I know that lizard," said Hertzog. "She sold me a necklace for my wife's birthday. Drove a hard bargain, but the gold is real just like she said. I had it tested by a mage."

"She is a fair and reliable trader," I replied, wondering if I was representing Seed-Neeus appropriately now that I had invoked her name. The ways of the merchant class did not rank high among my interests.

Fort Carmala was largely a ruin, but a round tower still stood with a wing extending on either side. Gaps had been patched in some places with old stones reset with new mortar and in other places simply with wood. A stockade fence blocked off the tower's entrance, and I could see another checkpoint whose guards presumably had more rigorous qualifying procedures. Tents laid out in blocks stood on the open ground that must have once been the bailey. A lower, split-rail fence protected them from the chaos of random traffic.

Posts stood at every junction, hosting signs clustered like shelf mushrooms. Toby and I followed the guide fence to the smithy, which was located beyond the stone building's left-hand wing. From here there was ready access to a dirt road that ran past the fort. I suspected that civilians with regular business here knew to gain entry from this side road rather than answering questions at the outer gate.

The farrier operated out of a low, open-sided barn. A handful of young men and women bustled about at the business of horses. I explained my situation and was told to wait. Within twenty minutes a Nord woman in a leather apron approached me.

She spoke in a voice that carried. "You're the healer?"

"Yes." I stroked my palm down Toby's neck, under his mane. "My horse threw a shoe on the trail. He behaved as if his leg had come off at the knee. I don't know the trail ahead or if there's a farrier in Hackdirt, so I brought him here. Can you see to him?"

"Aye. What's his name?"

"Toby."

"Let's have a look, big fella." The Nord took Toby's lead, holding her other hand out to me palm up without a glance or comment.

I stared at her dumbly for a breath. "Oh! Of course." I handed her the horse shoe. As she led Toby away to her work area I glanced around, looking for a place that might be more appropriate to wait.

An Argonian lass in an apprentice's tunic placed herself in front of me, chin down and eyes wide. "Miss, can you help with something?"

I schooled my features into a healer's calm mask. "What is troubling you?"

"I'd rather not say, but I'll show you."

That sounded like the cue for a prank, but the girl's age and situation let me abandon caution. As an apprentice she was practically owned by her mistress. Several reasons came to mind why she would not want to be treated by a Legion medic. I guessed that she knew my horse was being shod at that very moment. No doubt the farrier's projected announcement of my profession was for the benefit of her apprentice.

"All right. I'm Abiene. What's your name?"

"Dew-Shine."

"How lovely!" I followed her around the structure and behind a stack of firewood.

"Thank you!" Without warning Dew-Shine hiked down her trousers and lifted her tail. "I don't have any coin," she directed up at me from between her knees.

The trouble was readily evident to the eye. I gripped her tail near the tip and sent my healing light spiraling toward its base. The spell confirmed my guess from the visual assessment.

"This is what we might call an overuse injury," I said. "If you expect the situation that contributed to your condition to recur-- "

"Oh, I do," Dew-Shine chirped. "We really like each other."

"I assume that your partner is not Saxhleel. While the two of you are not physically incompatible, you must be careful not to neglect lubrication. Shall I explain?"

Wide-eyed, she nodded yes and then no, still gazing upside down from her inverted position.

I took that as her understanding my advice and having the situation managed. Though she hadn't asked, I quickly checked her for unseen problems through my spell. I found only old fractures, probably from childhood and neatly healed. Relieved that I had not found evidence of abuse, I stepped back. "You're all set."

"Thank you, Miss Abiene!" Dew-Shine gave a little hop as we parted ways.

I smiled to myself, thinking of Dar-Ma bravely continuing on toward Hackdirt. Whatever her name meant in Jel, I hoped it was as sweet and lovely as 'Dew-Shine.'

The Nord woman had finished with Toby. I paid her and retraced our steps back out to the road. The sun had lowered alarmingly close to the mountains. Sunset was a rapid affair in this type of high country, with none of the Gold Coast's long dance of dusk.

The two legionaries still stood at their posts. I dismounted and approached them.

"Hello," I said.

Hertzog gave me a nod. Guntien, who had advised me in the event that I might like to try some prostitution or healing, said, "Hello again, Miss Metonne."

I realized that I had in fact defied his order and conducted a healing outside the confines of the designated healing area and without the permission of the Legion healer in charge of this battalion. The formality of military procedures contrasted with the nature of the treatment I had enacted behind the wood stacks put a twinkle in my eye.

"I have to get to Hackdirt as soon as possible." I pointed. "I came by that road, but I don't want to retrace my steps unless I have to. I'm told that a bridge is out. Is there a way to cut a corner, perhaps?"

"How well do you know the woods?" said Guntien.

"Not at all, but I can follow a trail, and I can ride without one."

"Do you have a bit of parchment?"

My face must have conveyed my dismay. I had not packed anything extra, not even a face cloth. The thought of rummaging through Seed-Neeus's packs in the hope that I could liberate one of her packing slips did not appeal.

Hertzog stepped behind the crumbling stone wall. Sounds of rummaging ensued. He returned with a well-scraped fragment of hide and a bit of charcoal.

The three of us put our heads together over the hide. Toby's breath on my neck told me that he had included himself. Guntien laid the hide over his raised knee and made marks on it while Hertzog supplemented his efforts with gestures and muttered remarks.

"Here's the creek where the bridge is out," Guntien explained, pointing to his map. "Here's the road right here where we're standing, turn left that's to the south. Right here you need to watch and turn off the road onto the trail. You'll see three diagonal blazes right corner down if you're watching."

"If you come to a creek with stone pillars and no bridge, you've gone too far," Hertzog said.

"Follow the trail through the woods. I didn't put the curves in, and this map is not to scale."

"How long should it take me to travel from here to here?" I asked, pointing.

Hertzog gave me one of those deliberately patient looks. "Well miss, that depends on how fast you're going."

I dug my fingers into my palms to keep from slapping my forehead. "Yes, thank you. Let us assume I'm riding this horse as quickly as is safe under current conditions."

"You'll go slower after dark," said Hertzog.

I wondered if perhaps he was addressing Toby.

"You'll travel into the night to get there," Guntien said. "Are you sure you don't want to stay at the camp and go in the morning, miss? With the daedra about we've seen a lot of deaths on the roads."

I swallowed the lump in my throat, but it turned into butterflies in my stomach. "I am a University-trained mage," I said, failing to not sound stuffy.

Hertzog snorted. "Then you'd better stay," he said, shoving an elbow against Guntien's armored side.

Hertzog had a point, but I would not leave Dar-Ma to a night of doubt over my fate. "Thank you for your help, gentlemen." Toby moved into mounting position at my slightest touch. "May I have a leg up?"





This post has been edited by Grits: Oct 8 2025, 04:44 PM

I always enjoy these moments of "The Real, Exciting Adventures in the Life of a Healer". Your world-building and attention to detail are both wonderful and bring the story to vivid life.

Two quotes that stand out particularly:



Reminds me of how directions are provided here in my part of the southeast... "Well, you go past the barn that isn't there any more...."

And then there is the response of a world-weary Legionnaire to the idea that education might be a shield against reality...

I did not see this coming. The misfortune with the shoe has led our heroines to split up (they can do more damage that way... ) This means Dar-Ma will complete the journey to Hackdirt alone. Oh my.

Well, at least Abiene was not greeted by vampires at Fort Carmala. That is an improvement.

So Werner Hertzog is serving at the fort? This must be before he began his career in film.

And some discreet healing for the young lady. No matter where she goes, Abiene is Abiene. I have to say, that was exactly the sort of issue I expected Dew Shine to have, given her demeanor.

Hertzog does not seem to be too impressed with Abiene's University training!

Well, with some directions and a leg up, Abiene is off!

Dar-Ma made the unlikely decision to continue alone sound almost reasonable, but I wish she had stayed with Abiene.

Good fortune getting into the Legion Fort and finding the farrier. I suppose some third degree was unavoidable.

Healers are always in demand – even at the busy blacksmith's. Abiene meets Lifts-Her-Tail. . . er, I mean Dew-Shine and after a bit of discrete magic, Dew-Shine is ready to continue her boisterous romance – hopefully with a bit more care.

Abiene has found herself in what is shaping up to be a solo arrival in Hackdirt under darkness. It just gets more ominous!

Previously: Toby threw a fit about his missing shoe, so Abiene took him back to Fort Carmala to have it put back on. Dar-Ma and Blossom continued toward Hackdirt. With the shoe restored and the sun setting, Abiene and Toby took off on a shortcut to catch up.

treydog: Thank you, treydog! Abiene experiences the world so differently from Jerric, it has been fun to spend time with her. Hertzog was Guard #2 in the draft, and then he stood up and became a comedian. His muttered remarks probably included "past where we killed that ogre" or the like. And yes, I imagine he worried that Abiene's education only gives her the false confidence to get into trouble, despite his jesting. (I've been on the receiving end of that notion, and it was not always wrong!)

SubRosa: Yep, Dar-Ma and Abiene continue to disobey the rules of surviving a horror movie! No vampires in this Fort Carmala, I expect the Legion cleared them out when they decided to use the ruins. I wonder if they found the Shadowbanish wine? (And I wonder how many adventurers Nerussa has out looking for it?) Thank you, SubRosa!

Acadian: I'm sure both Dar-Ma and Abiene will soon regret splitting up, if they don't already! I wish the game gave us Legion outposts, at least for the Foresters and the Legion Riders. Dew-Shine has probably advanced her next date to tonight, thanks to Abiene's intervention! Thank you, Acadian!

Chapter 21: Underneath, Part Eight

By the time I nudged Toby onto the Hackdirt road, Magnus had slipped near the horizon. Despite his packs Toby carried me along without apparent effort, his long legs fairly eating the distance. The soft earth and decaying leaves muffled the sound of our passing.

We slowed as the trail dipped into the first ford. I urged Toby up over the roadside ridge before we reached the mud where he had lost his shoe. You should have done this the first time, I scolded myself. Then you would be almost to Hackdirt by now, and Dar-Ma would have no worries when darkness falls and she and Blossom are alone.

But they wouldn't be alone. They would be in a town with an inn and at least one shop whose proprietor would be expecting her. Dar-Ma made her own decision to carry on with Blossom. Suggesting that we stay together would have implied a lack of confidence in her ability to make deliveries for the business that would one day be hers. Despite my nameless misgivings, I had done the right thing in for once controlling my urge to meddle.

Toby interrupted my musings by scraping his bridle against a tree as we passed.

"None of that!" I gave his shoulder a firm pat. "See, I'm paying attention now. Let's have no nonsense in this ford."

The trail on the ford's far side was firm enough to support Toby's swift canter. The hills swelled more steeply here, their crests lightly wooded and the hollows choked with trees. The sun's setting rays painted the clouds in bursts of color. First yellow as the sun itself, then brilliant orange, and finally pink against a star-flecked, purple canvas as the day's light died. Secunda was already high in the sky, and near full. I knew that Masser, still below the horizon, was a waning crescent. Secunda's cycle was in our favor. The daylight may be gone, but tonight's best light was now.

I slowed Toby to a brisk walk and cast a spell to detect life signs. I had altered the standard Detect Life spell — at the Arcane University's Praxographical Center, Corporal Hertzog! — to suit my needs. Small life signs even up to the size of a fox went undetected, but larger ones were visible farther away than I could see in this light. Details were indistinct, so I had to guess at what sort of creature's life energy I saw. The deer and antelope moved the same as they had at twilight, so it was easy to identify them in the meadows. The larger shapes settled under trees might be cattle. If I saw a predator or anything on two legs we would go out of our way to avoid it.

With nightfall spring peepers began their trilling song, and I heard some other tree creatures' chorus that sounded like a thumbnail drawn over a comb's teeth. I recognized the soft calls of mourning doves and the faraway bark of a fox. An owl hooted directly over our heads, making me jump. Another answered from somewhere behind us. Toby lifted his feet higher than necessary, almost prancing along. Though I saw no signs of danger, my stomach knotted.

The trail dipped to cross another stream. Did this count as a ford? Hadn't we already made all of the crossings before the turnoff? I had been watching for blazes cut into a tree, but I could not promise that I hadn't missed them. Just as I began to debate whether to turn around and retrace our steps, I saw a swath of moonlight ahead. The merry song of rippling water became audible over the night insects as we approached.

Here the creek flowed swiftly between high banks. Symmetrical lumps stood in pairs on both sides of the trail, shrouded in vines and moss. As we halted at the dropoff, I realized what I was seeing.

"If you come to a creek with stone pillars and no bridge, you've gone too far." Corporal Hertzog's words had become a prophecy. I had not only missed the trail marked with three blazes that was to have been my shortcut, but also the turnoff that Dar-Ma must have taken with Blossom hours ago in daylight.

The bridge's span was gone without a trace. Whatever aids Ravenna and the girls had used to cross, they must have taken with them. But somehow, even burdened by packs and two of them with child, they had managed it.

Looking at the steep banks, I had an idea. Seed-Neeus had planned our route with her daughter's safety in mind. This crossing was certainly impassible for Seed-Neeus and her wagon, and ill-advised for Dar-Ma and her heavily loaded mare. But I had fewer packs and a mount who was built for a steeplechase. The banks were too far apart to attempt the jump, but in several places the floods had scoured them clean of brush. He may be able to get down, cross the stream, and then leap back up.

I left Toby under a Command spell to keep him from wandering and found a place where I thought he could make it. There I scramble-slid down the bank.

At the water's edge I paused. My charmed bracelet kept me dry in the heaviest rain, but immersing my legs in the water would prove too much for the enchantment. I did not wish to ride the rest of the way soaked to the knee or worse, depending on the stream's depth. The solution was simple. I could cast a Water Walk spell and stay atop the moving stream. It would take some quick stepping to keep the ripples from tripping me up, but I came from a county where waterways were as useful as roads. I was well practiced at water-walking.

I raised a hand and cast Sea Stride on myself. The magicka floated down and swirled into a spiral around me, coating my body in a teal shimmer. To help me assess the creek for crossing, I also cast a spell of Starlight. The mountain-clear water looked sickeningly greenish under its light.

Short, quick strides kept me on my feet as I stepped out onto the water's surface. I hop-trotted into the middle of the stream, examining what I could see of the stream bed for submerged rocks, logs, holes, and unexpectedly soft areas that looked smooth against the rocky creek bed. The stream was swifter than I had thought and deeper than I had hoped.

I paced across once and then back again, charting a broad path that I might ride Toby through. The stream bank on the far side rose just as steeply. We would have a hard scramble to the top, but there was plenty of space between the trees.

As I returned to Toby, a crawling sensation crept down my back and up my neck. You are no clairvoyant, I told myself, just a silly person if you are afraid of the dark.

It's not the dark but what's in it, answered a deeply buried, childish part of my mind.

I had reached the brightly moonlit center of the stream when the spring peepers ceased their song. Then the insects went silent. My feet stopped involuntarily, causing me to slide sideways downstream.

As I lost my footing a night bird screeched on the far bank. I went to one knee, my startled shriek answering its cry. Another bird called in the woods behind it. My hands pressed into the stream's flexible surface, I staggered to my feet, inwardly cursing.

Over the stream's cheerful song I heard a shuffle on the ground near the night bird, and the wet crack of a fallen branch underfoot. Under what feet? The natural moonlight and my Starlight spell combined to cast confusing shadows, but I saw no…

My Detect Life spell had lapsed. I recast, struggling to concentrate as my feet scrambled on the moving stream.

A Nord-sized purple glow flared into sight, standing under a tree at the bank's edge.

My limbs froze, and my stomach felt as if it had flipped. The moving water swung me downstream again, breaking my line of sight. I sprinted back to my side of the stream. By the time my fingers dug into the wet bank, my wits had returned. Toby remained at the washed out bridge, the spell overriding his will. I must reach him.

At the top of the bank I turned, a Fear spell ready in my hand. The figure stood still and silent. Behind it at a distance, three smaller life forms moved up and down, rising swiftly to a height and then drifting back to the ground.

What were they? Why were they doing that?

Before I could take another breath, one floated down at an angle. Now I could discern two arms and two legs. As it quickly rose again, it appeared to grow slightly. All three were getting bigger. Because they were coming this way.

I found myself on Toby's back, digging my heels into his flanks as I silently screamed to run. Only years of experience in County Leyawiin's creek-riddled hills kept me in the saddle. Like a good mount under the Command of a terrified mage, he bolted back down the road across hill and ford.

Eventually I brought myself under control. "Easy, boy." I relaxed into my seat to slow him to his ground-eating canter. Toby blew and snorted as my spell released him, but he showed no signs of distress.

Despite checking behind us repeatedly and finding no signs of pursuit, the skin between my shoulders prickled the whole way back to Fort Carmala.





This post has been edited by Grits: Oct 15 2025, 10:01 PM

A wonderful description as the day trades its last light for the sights and sounds of nightfall.

A detect life spell is very wise for a skittish mage!

Abiene finds herself at the ‘you’ve gone too far’ point and decides upon a challenging night ford. Might have worked if not for the unsettling life signs on the other side. A retreat back to Fort Camala may be a wise idea at this stage – at least until morning.

Your rich descriptions of the setting bring the story to wonderful life. And the way Abiene uses her hard-won expertise with magic is a treat to behold, including her snarky mental aside to Cpl. Hertzog.

Quote time:



She may be "sheltered" and slightly "over-confident" in the mind of a certain Legion corporal... but she isn't stupid.

Most excellently woven.

I had done the right thing in for once controlling my urge to meddle.
Oh my...

Well, fords crossed, life signs detected, and moon shining in the sky. Things are looking up at least. For the moment. Well at least they were until Abiene missed her turn. Ope!

Abiene is going to forge ahead and roll the dice on her ability to cross. Hopefully her horse will keep all of his shoes this time. Let alone nothing worse.

Uh oh, things are getting weird. Time to listen to that voice in your head that is warning you of danger. All the animals in the forest are doing so, given their sudden quiet.

Well that was a close call. Bandits? Vampires? Inbred hicks who worship some dark entity with unholy rites? No way of telling yet. But Abiene has lived long enough to find out another day, perhaps with reinforcements.