Old Habits Die Hard Part Six, some old habits never die Options

[haute ecole rider]

Hello all, and welcome to the final thread of Old Habits Die Hard. Those of you who are familiar with the Main Quest know that we are fast approaching the end game. Only three more artifacts to obtain, then we can recover the Amulet of Kings and light those Dragonfires and see Martin to the Dragon Throne at last. Right?

For those who are coming late to the party, here are the links to the other five threads:

Chapters 1 − 7: From the Prison to finding the Path of Dawn.
Chapters 8 − 13: From Dagon’s Shrine to Bravil.
Chapters 14 − 18: From Sheogorath’s Shrine to the start of the Grand Tour of Cyrodiil.
Chapters 19 − 22: From Leyawiin to Skingrad.
Chapters 23 − 25: From returning home to Anvil to the final Mages Guild recommendation.

Here in this last thread we will see the Main Quest through to its tragic conclusion. Some questions will be answered, including who is the man Julian loves? Other questions will be raised, including what’s next for Julian? Those of you who have suspected a second story in the making, you are correct.

After a year and a half of writing this story, I am happy to bring this to a close, yet I am sad to bid it adieu. Hopefully I won’t let any and all of you down as we wrap up.

This post has been edited by haute ecole rider: Jun 26 2011, 01:10 AM

[haute ecole rider]

@Hammertime: You’re right about the Fingers of the Mountain - I don’t know why I keep thinking it’s frost. Obviously frost wouldn’t char a corpse the way shock would. And this old legionary has a few new habits to learn in the future. But that’s another story --

@Olen: This will prove challenging in more ways than one, as I’m sure we will see through this chapter. I wanted to convey that wolves are pretty smart creatures, and lone wolves are experts at sizing up risks and benefits. After all, there are no buddies around to help them should they get hurt. Thanks for pointing out the nits. I fixed the one, but left the other. “Ancient” history is relative, and it certainly feels pretty ancient to her!

@SubRosa: Yes, Julian is used to disappointment. But it doesn’t stop her from hoping regardless. I’m glad you appreciated the irony of using a skeletal summons to combat skeletons. Thanks for pointing out the nit.

@Grits: Bones is awesome for luring out hostiles from hiding and keeping them occupied long enough for Julian to finish them off. It’s a good thing she’s very pragmatic about her summonses - otherwise she would feel so terrible using Bones like that. And a ‘summon Blanco’ spell? Uh, no. She’ll stick with the live horse and the Legion signals for now thank you very much.

@Acadian: The very first time I came to Sancre Tor, it was snowing and dark. That made the surface ruins even scarier because you couldn’t see those darned bones - talk about perfect camouflage! I’m glad you liked the screenie I took of the two of them.

@TK: Yes, I think Sancre Tor is one of those places Beth didn’t expand on to its fullest potential. Of course, there are a lot of places in TES IV like that, which is good for modders. And you’ll see Julian continuing to use her brain (though not always well) throughout this quest.

@All: Thanks for the welcome back.

Chapter 26 has been the most difficult chapter to write. There is little here that I can truly call mine. In addition to Bethesda for providing the storyline, I’d like to thank two others whose contributions to this chapter have been considerable, and without which I could not be able to move on.

Destri Melarg, for the excellent characterizations of the Four Greatest Blades evah in Interregnum. It was a challenge making a connection over 400+ years between the two fictions, but I like to think we’ve been successful.

And Dee Foxy, combat expert extraordinaire, without whose expertise I could not do these four men the full justice they (and Destri) deserve.

Chapter 26.2: Into the Keep

The growing light of morning woke me from a frozen slumber. I opened my eyes and pulled the edge of the blankets below my chin. In front of me the fire glowed dimly beneath its own blanket of coals. With a stifled groan I rolled onto my back, still swaddled within the woolen fabric. Blanco’s muzzle hung over me, his dark eyes blinking slowly at my sleepy befuddlement.

Sancre Tor. The sudden recollection of where we were bolted me out of the blankets into the frigid air. “Gods!” I exclaimed involuntarily, grabbing for the woolen fabric. “It’s cold!” My voice echoed around the stones of the empty keep. Blanco tossed his head as if in agreement. Moving quickly against the cold, I checked the collapsible bucket and found it empty of water.

A few moments later the fire crackled merrily again, a fresh bucket full of melting snow next to it. Already I had the pot of klah warming over the flames. Blanco watched as I tidied the camp. Last night I had set up beneath the stairs leading to the ruined upper floors of the keep. It provided shelter from the cold, and a semi-enclosed space that warmed up well with the fire. Even now, with the fire low, the stone blocks still gave off some warmth which was noticeable only when I stepped out into the chill of the keep’s open courtyard.

I shook out the blankets and packed them into the saddlebags, tucked away with Blanco’s tack beneath the stairs. He wore only the woolen horse-blanket that Piner had loaned us. It was fortified with resist frost to keep him warm. In spite of his short stay in Anvil’s warmer climes, Blanco possessed a decent winter coat. However the high altitude and our need to travel light meant that he would have to forage for himself. I did have a few handfuls of grain, and I fed him one now. It would provide him the energy he needed to stay warm while I searched for the Shrine of Tiber Septim beyond that sealed door.

The klah not only warmed me, it also softened the waybread so I could eat it quickly. The cheese added extra energy. As I ate, I mentally reviewed the spells most likely to serve me well here. Bones. Maybe Domina Incendia. That new soul trap spell to fill the empty gems I have. That blessing I obtained at the doomstone outside Skingrad. I found the plain silver ring I had enchanted with one of the sigil stones. It enabled me to detect life within sixty feet. The other new spell I learned in Chorrol - Choking Grasp - will drain the health on touch. I now had enough destruction experience to use the strong spell. Blanco and I shared a couple of apples, then I patted his neck. “I don’t know if you can find anything to eat here,” I murmured. “But stay close and listen for my whistle. I’ll be back.”

I crossed the courtyard, feeling the falling snow on my face as I approached the sealed door. I rubbed at the lockplate, then tried the ornate key Grandmaster Jauffre had given me so long ago. Finally I get to use this key. The lock turned so stiffly that the key bent, and I could not recover it. But the door was now unsealed. A soft hissing rose as I cracked it open, and dust floated out around it. I stood back and pulled on the panel, its hinges groaning loudly in the quiet morning. I hope there isn’t too much bad air in here. Otherwise this is going to be a very short search, and Blanco will have a very long wait.

A dark passage greeted me, its shadows strewn with cobwebs, with piles of unidentifiable moldy material scattered along the floor. The air was dank and heavy with the odor of decay. I found myself shivering in spite of the frost-resistant tunic and the hot cup of klah still warming my stomach. Perfect place for ghosts. Ahead of me, the passageway turned right. I waited for my eyesight to adjust to the new dimness. Am I going to need a torch? I hope not, I hate not having my hands free for combat.

A few steps within, my new ring picked up a floating pink glow just around the nearby corner. At the same time, I heard a spectral moaning that sent chills up my spine. Ghost. Cacat. I moved immediately to the right hand wall and placed my shoulder against it, drawing Daedra Slayer. Its fire enchantment would be devastating to these creatures.

After a few moments’ waiting and watching, I saw the glow move further away from the corner. Readying the new soul trap spell, I slid to the bend and peered around. The greenish glow made it difficult to identify features, but I could tell the specter faced away from me. In a low crouch, I managed to sneak close enough to the spirit to feel the icy cold emanating off of it. It became aware of my presence just as I lifted my hand to send the soul trap spell into it. My left fingers trailed purple through its cold core as Daedra Slayer rose to strike from the right. I stepped back as fire trailed the path of my blade. The frost spell it sent my way fizzled ineffectually against me, its damage entrapped and dispersed by the enchantment of the tunic.

The ghost struggled to gather enough magicka between its hands to strike again, but my sword was quicker. Golden-red flame engulfed the specter before the ball of frost damage could leave its hands. The eerie moaning trailed off into a thin wail as the spirit coalesced into a glob of shimmering gel on the stone floor. Something sang softly from my belt pouch as the energy was drawn into an empty soul gem.

I regarded the remains of the ghost at my feet. Ectoplasm. The thought crossed my mind and I knelt beside it. Yes, I can gather it later. I have the wax parchment in my saddlebags for alchemy ingredient collection. Relas made certain I have plenty of it. But right now I had a more important goal in mind - find the Shrine of Tiber Septim.

An hour and four ghosts later, I entered the second large room. Again the detect life ring showed a pink flare on the platform high above me. I couldn’t see what it was, since the bulk of the stones blocked my view. But I could tell by its shape and the way it moved that it wasn’t another phantom. A human? Or a skeleton? The immense room was quiet, lit only by spectral fires that cast flickering blue light which did little to eliminate the shadows in the corners.

I paused, my gaze on that pink glow, and held my breath to listen. At first I heard only my own heartbeat, but before long the distinctive clatter of a skeleton reached my ears. Good. I can use Bones now. I moved to put my left shoulder against the solid side of the platform and followed it to the right. Moving widdershins, I rounded the structure and found the stairs leading up.

A check of the pink glow revealed its position to be near the top of the flight. It couldn’t see me, nor could I see it, as the line of sight was blocked by a wide, square pillar that supported the left side of the stairs. When the undead being turned to walk away from the steps, I glided forward, mentally visualizing Bones and his heavy mace in my mind. Using that square pillar as cover, I reached the top of the stairs and crouched against its bulk.

Bones materialized in front of me, and almost immediately sprang to attack the other. Unable to resist watching, I peered around as the two skeletons closed on each other. I felt my eyes widen at the sight of the other skeleton. Unlike those in the ruined town, who carried silvered weapons and steel shields, this one wielded a slender blade as familiar to me as my own. Instead of the bald pate of Bones, the blue-and-gold enameled helm covered the other’s skull and hid its face. The round blue-and-gold shield clinched the identity.

I leaned my shoulder against the pillar, breathless as Bones struck futilely at the other, his blows effortlessly blocked by the shield. The other slipped beneath my summons’s attack, smashing him down with a single, brutal chopping blow from his katana. That’s a Blade! One of the missing four? What in Oblivion happened here? Is he cursed? Are they all cursed?

The rattle of victory drew my attention back to the combat. The Blade skeleton flung his arms wide and chattered his teeth triumphantly at the ceiling. Of my Bones, there were no sign. Lightning reflexes, superb timing, not a move wasted. Akatosh, but he’s strong! I’ve seldom seen combat like that in the Legion. This is more Ferrum’s and Pelagius’s style.

This time, I watched the next encounter more closely. The second summons did not fare much better. The Blade let Bones make the first move, an overhanded attack. As the mace descended, the undead stepped back and feinted to the right. At the same time, he moved left and smashed home a backhanded side-slash into Bones’s unprotected right side. As Bones shattered into nothingness, I automatically assessed the skeleton’s tactics. Economical effort, maximum destruction with minimum risk to himself. Undead or not, he’s no reckless risk-taker.

Screenshot

The third Bones I summoned gave the undead Blade something more like a duel. My summons’s mace blurred as he made three attacks in quick succession. The skeleton easily absorbed the first overhanded attack on his shield. The second attack, a low onslaught from the left, was deflected aside with the forte, the strongest part of the katana blade nearest the hilt. Bones’s third attack followed on the heels of the deflection, circling around to strike at the undead Blade from the high right side. The skeleton raised his shield to block the mace and stabbed beneath it with his katana. As Bones disintegrated before this counterattack, I considered the triumphant Blade. Its empty eye sockets searched the shadows draping the walls of the large chamber before settling on the top of the steps where I hid.

He knows how to use both sword and shield. He can both slash and thrust depending on the situation. And he has superb timing, and knows how to maneuver without taking undue risk. Not only that, but he knows those were summons, and he is looking for the conjurer.

After three summons, the undead Blade showed no signs of damage. As I leaned back behind the broad cover of the stone pillar, I considered my depleted magicka and stifled a sigh. I’m going to have to take him on by myself. It’s not impossible, Julian. It’ll be just like sparring with Ferrum. But Ferrum isn’t trying to kill you, my sensible side stated flatly. I closed my eyes and listened to the clattering of the skeleton as it restlessly patrolled the edges of the platform.

“The key to the Sunbird Dance is to avoid reliance on any one style of fighting,” Jelin’s voice whispered in my memory. “If you get stuck fighting one way, then when you encounter an opponent that fights differently, you’ll be at a disadvantage. Fighting is like dancing - you have to be ready to change when the music changes. Yet a Sunbird Master sets the rhythm, not the music or the opponent.”

Akatosh! I hope I remember what I need to remember! I considered what I had seen of the undead Blade’s fighting skill. Both offense and defense are excellent. I don’t have a shield, that leaves me vulnerable. What advantage do I have over him? As I pondered the question, I recalled a practice session I once had with Jelin. He didn’t carry a shield - he seldom did. But the particular session I remembered was not the usual Legion strike-and-parry. Instead, Jelin had wielded two swords, both of which could be used both offensively and defensively. He had blocked my longsword with the slender blades with a fluid ease that had left me panting.

I retreated down the stairs as quietly as my mail would let me once the Blade was at the far side of the platform. Crouched in the shadows at the bottom, I unshouldered Akatosh’s Fury and laid it gently on the stone floor. The fletching on my arrows rustled softly as I laid the quiver next to the bow. I paused and listened, but heard no change in the sound of the skeleton’s patrol. I waited until he was moving away once more, then drew my plain katana left-handed, careful to minimize its song.

Quickly I scooted back up the stairs and took cover again behind the stone pillar before the undead Blade made the return circuit. As he walked past the other side of the pillar, I held my breath and closed my eyes again, seeking my center. The nerves I always felt before an anticipated clash threatened to shake my resolve.

In an attempt to calm my tremors, I took a deep breath and reviewed what I had just witnessed. This isn’t going to be easy. He’ll match the rhythm of his attack and defense to mine. Twenty-plus years of experience as a Blade has not been dampened by four hundred years of isolation in this sealed tomb. I felt my resolve begin to falter.

This post has been edited by haute ecole rider: May 27 2011, 04:04 PM