Old Habits Die Hard Part Three, The old dog practices new habits Options

[haute ecole rider]

Here is the first of a third thread for Old Habits Die Hard. I appreciate all of you staying with Julian and I this far, and hope you stick with us to the end!

For those who want to go back to the beginning, here you go:
Old Habits Die Hard Chapters 1 - 7
Old Habits Die Hard Chapters 8 - 13

[haute ecole rider]

@SubRosa: I’m glad you liked the rewrite of the opening paragraphs in 14.1 better.

@hazmick: Every time I see your name, I think of hazmat, which around here is an abbreviation of Hazardous Materials. In my line of work, we deal with OSHA, and have to place hazmat labels on everything, which borders on the ridiculous. That's why I asked about your twin!

@Acadian: I always found the nirnroot quest to be the best excuse for exploring Cyrodiil! Aww, you liked how I handled the dialogue with Ursanne? :Blush: Thanks for enjoying the interaction with Lerus.

@treydog: Your summation is much, much appreciated!

@mALX: I’m glad you are enjoying familiar quests! I hope to keep you entertained!

@Destri: I really don’t know why I treat the Argonians in my story the way I do! I guess it may be because I’m sensitive to discrimination, and every time I hear one being called pondscum in the game, I just want to leap to their defense! An Argonian as the Divine Crusader? Hmm. As for Lerus, I hope to explain her situation to both you and SubRosa’s satisfaction in just a few more posts (Chapter 14.7).

Julian has another unsavory task to perform.

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Chapter 14.3 The Shrine of Sheogorath

Paint stopped beside the Wayshrine. I looked around, noting the worn stone steps in the road that led down to the waterside, the bridge across the Niben River and the ruins of the old fort on the opposite bank. All the landmarks were as Gwinas had said.

“When you reach the Wayshrine of Stendarr, the Green Road will turn east, towards the river, and drop down to the riverbank over a series of old stone steps. Be careful if you ride your horse down those steps, they can be slippery. On the bank, the Green Road turns back south to follow the river, but there is a path that continues east across a small bridge. You’ll see Fort Redman on the other bank there. Beware at the bridge, bandits like to ambush travelers there.”

Dismounting from Paint, I limped up to the Wayshrine. We had met a couple of bandits on the road south of Bravil, where it followed the southern shore of Niben Bay, and again where the road passed between a cave on the riverbank and a fort perched high on the hill to the west. Apparently they thought me fair game, since they attacked me. However my Legion training and Jelin’s Sunblade Dance educated them otherwise.

I prayed to Stendarr, and felt his healing response. My face turned west, I looked past Paint’s profile towards the high ridge beyond. Here, the Elsweyr border pressed close to the road, roughly paralleling the high ridge of hills that led to mountains beyond. Again, Gwinas’s voice echoed in my mind:

“From the Wayshrine, turn west and hike up into the hills. Sheogorath is almost due west from the Wayshrine, but you may need to detour a little bit to get around the steep slopes in between. It’s only about a kilometer or so.”

Do I leave Paint here by the Wayshrine? I looked east at the bridge. I could just make out a couple of figures standing there. Under cover of the shrubs and boulders between the Wayshrine and the road, I moved to where I could see them more clearly. A Khajiit and a Dunmer, both in leather armor, stood watching the Green Road. The Dunmer was armed with a bow, the Khajiit with a mace. They had the scruffy appearance of bandits, but I wanted to be sure. I would be leaving Paint alone for an unknown period of time, and bandits were known to abscond with unattended horses.

Back on the road, I walked openly down the worn stone steps, still wet from recent rain, toward the pair. The Dunmer unshouldered her bow, stepping back towards the bridge. The Khajiit ran at me with mace upraised. A sidestep put him between me and the female Dunmer while I drew my katana and braced for the blow. As I expected, the Khajiit dropped the mace in an overhanded strike. With another step to the right, I deflected the mace with the Wolf and spun into him, hooking my left foot behind his right knee and kicking his right leg out from under him.

He fell towards me, and I backed up, just in time to avoid an arrow which whizzed past in front of my chest. The Wolf lifted high, I brought the edge of the shield down hard on the Khajiit’s back. While the bandit lay howling in the mud, I whirled the buckler up towards the archer. The arrow smacking into the Wolf staggered me, but I kept my feet and darted towards the Dunmer.

She lowered her bow and turned, running for the bridge. Once she gained a little distance on me, she nocked another arrow to her bow and turned back to me. I risked exposure and tossed a flare at her, more to distract her than to do her harm, and ran after the spell.

The bridge, constructed of boards laid on a rope suspension, trembled under our feet as I closed on the archer, katana ready to stab forward. She released her arrow a little early, and I ducked, simultaneously raising my shield. When I lowered the buckler, she had dropped her bow and drawn her dagger, ready for melee. As I closed with her, I knocked her dagger hand aside with the back of the katana blade and slashed the tip across her chest. The fine blade left a deep gash in her tough leather, and blood seeped through it.

The Dunmer looked down at her chest, and I took advantage of her distraction to stab the katana into her abdomen, just below the edge of her cuirass. The tip of my blade struck the bone of her spine, and I lowered the handle of the katana, driving the tip upwards within her body to do as much damage as I could before withdrawing the blade. She cried out, and fell away, blood and foul fluid oozing from the wound.

I felt pounding footsteps on the shivering bridge and spun to my left in time to deflect the Khajiit’s mace. His enraged eyes glared at me as I knocked his right arm aside with the Wolf and brought the katana down on his right shoulder. The blade bit through his tough leather into the flesh of his upper arm. The mace dropped from his fingers, and he snarled, his left hand coming up to claw at my face. I ducked back to avoid this onslaught and brought the tip of the katana against the Khajiit’s throat to give him a new breathing hole, blood splashing back at me.

Breathlessly I crouched down on the bridge between the two newly dead bandits, and looked back east at the Fort ruins across the river. It would make a logical Bandit hideout, I knew, but I saw no one, heard no outcry.

After a pause long enough to gather drakes, lockpicks, and healing potions from the dead, I stepped over the Khajiit and limped back to the Wayshrine. Leaning against a boulder next to Paint, I cast Carandial’s cleansing spell on myself to remove the blood.

Paint watched me intently, then turned his head and looked southwards. I glanced over my shoulder in that direction, but saw nor heard nothing. After a moment, I took the pack from the cantle and slung it over one shoulder. The bow and quiver were both attached to the saddle; I would leave them with Paint. I had Daedra Slayer at my back, and my katana at my hip.

“You stay here,” I whispered to Paint. He blinked a round brown eye at me before he dropped his head and rubbed his nose on the inside of his foreleg. He shook his head, the motion traveling down his neck into his body, until even his legs shuddered. Then he blew at me. I smiled at his antics and turned west, finding a path that wound uphill among boulders and twisted trees.

As Gwinas had said, I hiked about a kilometer before I spotted a tall statue on the steep slope above me. From my lower altitude, I could only see the top half of the statue. It was of a sharply-dressed dandy, with a neatly trimmed beard and an elaborate waistcoat. I paused, and looked around, for boulders separated me from the shrine. A rough path sought out a relatively gentler slope between large rocks, curving first north before bending back to the shelf in the side of the ridge where the statue stood.

A few minutes later I stared, shocked, at the four half-nude worshippers walking around the shrine. The nearest, a Nord wearing only a shirt with suspenders dangling below its hem, turned and looked at me. “I wish there were children here,” he said to me. A smile warmed his face, but did not touch the madness in his eyes. “Scrumptious, darling children. I haven’t eaten in so long.” He licked his lips. “Ravel will tell me what to do. You, too.”

With a barely suppressed shudder at his words, I avoided looking below the hem of his shirt and moved forward, stepping onto the shelf of rock. An Argonian woman, clad only in a leather helmet and worn, frayed quilted shoes, walked up to me. “I ussed to be a dog,” she hissed at me. “Then I got better. Not a better dog, though. I’m a terrible dog now,” her eyes shifted away. “Tomorrow - who knowss? Ravel may know. Talk to him.”

A hand touched my shoulder, spun me around to face a Breton man. Like the others, he wore little, only a cuirass much like mine, but worn and dirty. “Bugs!” he shouted in my face, spittle spraying from his lips. “Bugs everywhere! All over! Wonderful, tasty bugs!” He released my shoulder, stepping back and shaking his head dismissively. “No time for you. Talk to Ravel. He doesn’t like the bugs. Not even with mead.”

I kept my eyes on his face as I backed away from the raving Breton until I nearly bumped into a female Altmer. Like the Argonian, she was nude except for a helmet, gauntlets and boots. “Have you seen it?” she exclaimed excitedly to me. “Have you seen the light? The bright shining light?” She tapped her naked breast. “I know it. It waits for you. Speak with Ravel,” she pointed at a Dunmer, the only fully clad worshipper in the bunch. “He knows the way.” She wandered away from me.

Uncomfortable with my struggle to keep my eyes on their faces, I limped towards the Dunmer. His white mage’s robe, turned dingy from living in the wilderness, somehow lent him the air of a high priest. The fur helmet he wore did not diminish that sense. “Hello, Ravel,” I said to him.

He turned his head to look at me. “Place?” he answered. I frowned, puzzled by his question, but he continued without waiting for an answer. “Not place? Here. Not here? Welcome to the Grove of Madness, stranger. Or go away. Who knows? Time will tell.”

“I’m looking for the Shrine of Sheogorath,” I said. “I assume I’ve found it?”

“Killed and ate a Bosmer here,” Ravel said to me. “But it made me sick. Saw Lord Sheogorath in the vomitus, so that’s all right. Here to sacrifice? A limb would be nice.”

“How do I summon Lord Sheogorath?” I asked, gathering my courage. I need to get that artifact for Martin. Gods help me if I have to kill someone.

“Then approach the shrine,” Ravel said. He sniffed the air. “Of course, he won’t appear. Because it’s not raining. He loves the rain.” He grinned at me, insanity flickering in his red eyes. “And you’ll need an offering.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, “I think a lesser soul gem, a head of lettuce, and some yarn will do the trick.” Giving a decisive nod, he smiled. “Yes. That’s what Sheogorath wants.”

Nonexistent ants crawled up my spine as I approached the statue. I swung the pack off my shoulder and knelt down to rummage in it. You were right, Gwinas. Thank you. I drew out the lettuce and the yarn I had gathered in Bravil, and the lesser soul gem from Calindil’s shop, placing them on the statue’s plinth.

“Another mortal dares to summon me, and already I am bored,” a light tenor spoke, causing me to jump. I stepped back and looked up at the statue, but it remained motionless. “But enough about me. Let’s talk about you.” The voice paused, then continued, “I could turn you into a goat. Or a puddle. Or a bad idea. I could make you eat your own fingers. Or fall in love with a cloud. Perhaps I could make you into something useful. Let’s find out.” Silence fell for several seconds. A glance behind me revealed that the worshippers had continued with their senseless behavior, ignoring me, with the exception of Ravel, who watched me intently.

“There’s a little settlement called Border Watch,” the disembodied voice drew my attention back to the Shrine. “It’s a nice, peaceful place - and dull, dull dull. You’re going to make their lives interesting. They’re a superstitious bunch. Everything is an omen or a portent. Let’s make one come true. Find their shaman and ask about the K’Sharra prophecy. You are to find a way to make the first two parts come true. I’ll take care of the rest, because it’s the most fun. Now run along.” Again the voice fell silent. I waited, but it did not speak again.

Turning around, I nearly bumped into Ravel. “You’ve spoken to the Madgod. Joy of joys! Are you elated? Excited? Aroused? Blessed are you. Blessed is he!”

Are you nuts? Yes, you are, indeed. With a stifled sigh, I started off to find this settlement.

This post has been edited by haute ecole rider: Aug 23 2010, 04:46 PM