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]

@Acadian: That passage you quoted is a nod to our favorite blond Bravilian Bosmer bowgirl. Glad you picked up on it! And that Justine Case jingle is thanks to our warrior poet of Chorrol, Dee Foxy. I knew you would enjoy the planning portion - I liked it too.

@DeeFox: Now let that hard rain fall!

@Grits: Time for the battle music! Go ahead and turn it on.

@treydog: I would like to know how you added Julian’s story to your Kindle? I’d like to something similar with some of the other stories on the forum, but don’t want to include all the comments (though sometimes they’re as much fun as the story itself!). And I’m glad Julian’s story really holds up to re-reading. Thanks for that validation!

@SubRosa: You’ll see if your guess to the skelly’s identity is correct. Good point about using the enchanted bow on the skeleton. It’s been my in game experience that arrows, with or without enchantment, are pretty useless against these guys. The only thing that brings them down quickly is a good blow from a blunt instrument. As Julian isn’t in the habit of carrying a mace or axe, she has to settle for her nice katanas. And against these particular skeletons, magic didn’t seem to give much of an edge. I like to consider them more durable than your usual skelly - partly because of their life-force (hey, the four greatest Blades that ever lived!) and partly because of the Underking’s skill.

@TK: Don’t worry, Cliff is just fine. Yes, the idea with the potions is quite inspired. We’ll see just how useful it is.

@Doommeister: Don’t hurt my Cliff! He’s actually quite useful! I’m glad to see you’re all caught up now and loving it.

@mALX: Glad to see you’re continuing to read this. Yes, Sancre Tor is one of my favorite quests, too.

Time to let Cliff out of the hangman’s noose. In Sancre Tor, Julian has just confronted her second undead Blade. Now we learn just how good this freakishly large skeleton is. Again, I must give due credit to Dee Foxy for his combat expertise and to Destri Melarg for his characterization of the four Greatest Blades ever.

Chapter 26.5: The Imprisoned Nord

The confrontation began as I expected. The undead Blade drew back his sword and charged. I started my sprint just as the sword began its deadly descent and ducked inside his guard with Daedra Slayer thrusting straight before me in a single, explosive and fluid motion.

Then the skeleton did the unexpected. He pivoted ninety degrees to the right around his right foot. His katana dropped sharply to his chest, its forte neatly parrying my blade. With a speed that shocked me, he continued the movement of his parry, flicking his wrist in a smooth deflection over and downward. His katana slipped over mine, then with a second flick of his wrist his weapon whipped into a savage backhanded slash straight at my exposed throat.

Only my experience combined with my total concentration on the combat saved me. Unconsciously I dove to the floor, the only possible way to counter the attack from my hopelessly unbalanced posture at the end of my lunge. When my back struck the floor I rolled away with both my weapons crossed in front of me for protection. Normally it would have gained me half a dagger’s length of protective space against an opponent with the same reach as mine.

This guardian’s range exceeded mine by the length of my dagger.

That katana flashed again toward my throat as I rolled on the floor and forced apart my own blades as if they were made of paper instead of steel. His sword tip reached for my throat, but caught on the glass vial I had earlier attached to the shoulder buckle nearest my neck. White hot pain seared through the junction of my neck and shoulder as the skeleton’s weapon smashed the bottle open and sliced into the muscle just above the mail collar.

Jelin’s hard training saved me then. In spite of the close call, my body kept rolling away from the guardian. Obviously he had anticipated I would duck right, but I had gone left. His second strike slammed into the stones beside me, sparks flying.

Somehow I gained my feet and backed away, blinking hard against the pain. The undead Blade swiveled to face me, his sword point aimed at me, his knees flexed into a half-crouch. He tossed his shield to the ground and presented his side to me while resting his other hand on his hip.

I narrowed my eyes at him. He’s using that katana like a rapier. His wristwork is excellent. I never expected him to be so quick and nimble with his sword, in spite of his greater size.

“The touch is the most difficult element of bladework to understand and perfect,” Jelin’s voice sounded again in my memory as I stood back warily. “As your blades slide along each other, mastery of the touch will enable you to sense your opponent’s strength, which side he favors, which strokes and tactics he prefers, and how fast and sensitive his wristwork will be. But my words are meaningless. Until your sweat is red instead of white, until your body memorizes this from repetition, this will not become part of your heart and soul. Practice!”

I presented my own side to his and advanced slowly, then reached over in a half-lunge until our blades touched. My mind empty of thought, instinct and training took over. Our blades crossed and tested each other. His weapon tried to slide, lever and spin mine out, I countered each move with combinations of my own. I began to understand his techniques, his strengths and his preferences.

He’s been trained by someone a lot faster and shorter than him. That’s why he doesn’t want to use the full length lunge, and why he aims for my head every time. He protects his knees and wrists. His guard is slightly lower than typical. He doesn’t want to perform a timed thrust counterattack. And his training seems to be rigid, in a narrow back and forth training step. Let’s see how he copes with a wide open fluidity —

Now that I had his rhythm, I began to throw him off. I juggled my weapons between my hands, Daedra Slayer ending up in my left and my dagger in my right. I tapped his sword point left, right, then left and right again. I circled him the entire time, switching directions at unpredictable intervals.

He fell into the classic defense, using his longer reach to keep me at bay. I slowly maneuvered him to the side of the chamber, his sword arm facing the wall. I stamped my foot and lunged forward. Daedra Slayer sent flames flickering along his sword as I snapped it to the wall.

He reacted exactly the way I wanted him to. The skeleton parried my probing lunge and leaped sideways away from the constricting stones at his side.

I jumped too, but not back to the center. Instead I slid down to the floor near the wall and kicked against it into a full lunge, my head down and my arm fully extended. My enchanted katana aimed at his pelvis.

The ideal counter for it was a straight thrust downwards, but the undead Blade hesitated for a fatal instant. If he missed, his weapon would hit the wall instead of air. Daedra Slayer slid beneath his guard and smashed through his pelvis. The curve of his hip bone guided the tip of my katana into the base of his spine.

Splinters of bone flew everywhere as he dropped like a tree. But the tall skeleton wasn’t finished. He reached out with his free hand and seized my left wrist. His momentum drew me down on top of him, his sword flying away from us. The bones of his right hand caught my throat and closed in a tight grip.

Akatosh! He’s strong! Lights exploded in my brain as I dropped Daedra Slayer. I slammed a drain health spell into him out of desperation, but it barely slowed him down.

But the distraction of the spell gave me just the tiniest opening I needed to bring up my Legion dagger. I smashed repeatedly at his arm with both blade and guard until I heard and felt bone snapping, but that relentless pressure on my throat only grew. The last of the air gone from my lungs, black spots danced in front of his white visage until they metamorphosed into white spots against black eye sockets.

Wheezing and gasping filled my ears as I found myself falling onto my shoulder beside the jumbled bones. My vision slowly cleared and the spots coalesced into the shadowed forming the high ceiling above me. My starved lungs slowly refilled with stale air as the combined scents of bone dust, sweat, and blood filled my nostrils. The wound in my right shoulder sent argent slivers through my body as a warm trickle ran down my arm.

But I couldn’t rest. I had another Blade to speak to. Recovering Daedra Slayer, I used it for support and struggled back to my feet in time to see the ghost materialize. Much as Rielus did, this phantom crouched over his bones, then rose to his full height. Where Rielus stood just a couple centimeters shorter than me, this one towered over me. Just like Burd. Has to be Valdemar, the Nord.

“I know you . . . you freed me.” He turned and met my gaze from beneath the spectral helm. Yes, that’s a Skyrim accent. One I’ve only heard among the oldsters in the remotest villages, though.

“You must be Valdemar,” I answered, bringing Daedra Slayer up before my face in the Legion salute. “And yes, you’re free to carry out your duty.”

An ephemeral fist clanged with an echo against an ephemeral breastplate. “I am grateful to you, hero,” he greeted me. “Has eternity ended?”

“No,” I shook my head at the odd question. “Four hundred years have gone by since you were enslaved. It may seem like an eternity, but it isn’t.”

“I see,” the phantom’s whisper turned depressed. “So the curse is not yet lifted.”

“It will be, soon,” I put as much conviction into my voice as I could. Though I really don’t know what I’m doing here. How is destroying their skeletons freeing them? Yet there is no question, their spirits are freed when I break their ancient bones. And these bones are proving hard to break. “Once I have your brothers freed, the four of you can complete what you were sent to do.”

“I do not speak of the curse of the Underking,” Valdemar’s wispy voice held a profound sadness. “I speak of one older, one that applies only to me.” His face turned away from me as he looked down at the shattered bones. “The one that curses me to an eternity in the company of the undead.”

I recalled something of the beliefs of Skyrim. “If I can help it, you will see the halls of Sovngarde when we are done here.” Hope shimmered through his gaze. Suddenly I wished I could clasp his shoulder in reassurance, as one soldier to another. I had to settle for less. “As your Blade sister, I swear it on the blood of Talos himself. In any case, Rielus awaits you at the Shrine of Tiber Septim.”

“He is free?” Valdemar’s shimmering visage smiled. “Thanks again, hero. I go to join him. Free my remaining brothers from this eternal slavery, so we may complete our lord’s bidding.” Again he saluted me, then gestured at his bones. “Find and take my shield. Alain gave it to me when they took away my mace and made me fight with this katana,” he touched the hilt at his left hip. “Carry the shield with honor, if you choose. Or bring it back to Cloud Ruler Temple.”

This post has been edited by haute ecole rider: Jun 25 2011, 01:00 AM