The Companionable Adventure of Sir J'Zirlo of New Kvatch Options

[McBadgere]

This story has characters which will eventually appear in the fiction of Knights of The Nine - New Kvatch, and is part of that story's timeline, so to help, here are a couple of links to it's characters and the timeline that it follows...

Please enjoy!...


Dramatis Personnae



KOTN Timeline



11/02/13
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Original post start


Umm...I started doing some journal thing for the Khajiit character I created for Skyrim, called J'Zirlo...It does fit in with the KOTN:NK storyline, but, as with the main story, it's taken on a life of its own and is expanding rapidly into the realm of fan-fic rather than what should be in the "What you're doing" thread...

So I beg your indulgance for the less heavygoing in the Divine/Timejumping-ness journal of Sir J'Zirlo of New Kvatch...

Oh, btw...Cunningly concealed within the journal are spoilers to the entire Companions questline...If you've done it, it's fine...If you don't want to be spoiled...*Shrugs*... ...

The first bit is the original thing I posted after I created J'Zirlo...The rest is the journal as it stands so far, any new bits won't be as long...What do you mean Hooray? ..

Thank you...


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"To where are you bound, friend Shaade?" J'zirlo asked.

"Riften. J'Drell asked me to see if I can muster up anything there. You?"

"Aaah...Khajiit is headed for Winterhold. That is where my scrawny reared kitten of a brother was headed. To that college up on the hill."

"A mage?" asked the Imperial Knight. "I had no idea."

"HAH!...He wishes." The large khajiit laughed. "No, he has grand ideas...But...Ach...Khajiit does his kin a great disservice. J'zargo is a decent warrior in his own right, just...Not as good as I." J'zirlo raised an eyebrow.

"Well, khajiit goes left, you, my friend, go right."

Shaade ran her hand down the length of her ponytail to straighten it, then held her hand out to J'zirlo. They clasped forearms.

"May your bed be free from fleas." She said with a smirk.

"Hah! And may your knees be ever free of arrows!" the khajiit repied with a smile.

"J'zirlo thinks that friend Shaade should smile more often. It is a beautiful sight."

The Imperial blushed, smiled and looked down at the floor. Then she pulled the khajiit close and kissed his cheek.

"Stay safe J'zirlo. Thank you."

And they parted.

J'zirlo watched Shaade walk south-east down the road for a while.

She looked back once and smiled.

The khajiit felt something in his heart stir.

"Until next time mii-kiit..." he said quietly, turned to his road, and walked, humming to himself.


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...From the journals of General Sir J'Zirlo of New Kvatch, brother of Blademaster J'Zargo "The Magnificent".




Khajiit are not ones for journal writing. We find it tiresome. Actions speak louder than words and assorted cliches. And I know of at least one officious clerk that will attest to the pen absolutely failing to be mightier than the sword.

And yet, I find that I must write something. Events lately have been...Strange, to say the least.

Once Helgen was secured and re-settled, we - the Knights - were divided off and sent on our missions. Friends Caerellin, Dinasafon and Shaade...Ah! Shaade...Hah...Sorry, got lost musing. They were sent to do what it is they do best, and Olffson and I were sent to Whiterun to make contact with a group we were told were the "Fighters Guild of Skyrim" by the Commander.

Friend Dinas decided that he would be better off alone and left swiftly and silently. The Commander laughed and said, "Just like his father!" but then suddenly went all sullen and told us to leave. I understand not the ways of Argonians. They are a strange race.

Anyhow, the four of us left Helgen with our packs and walked merrily, joking and laughing our way down towards Riverwood. Well, I say we...Caerellin and Olfsson mostly joked, Shaade and I mostly laughed. She has a particular laugh I noticed. It is...Nice...

We made good time down from Helgen, which was a heartfelt joy, as under the late evening summer sun, Riverwood is beautiful. Fortunately, the wolves that shadowed us all the way down, kept away.

In a way that made both Shaade and I laugh, at exactly the same time, both Olfsson and Caerellin said, "Oooh!" and made for seperate directions. Olfsson to the forge he'd seen and Caerellin to the shop that some "pretty" (as far as I'm any judge!) woman had entered.

Shaade shook her head and said she would go and find friend Ralof's sister. I bade her be careful. She smiled. Aaah!..

I made my way to the forge. Olfsson was already bare chested and beating out some metal! That Nord is unstoppable I tell you! Anyways, between us, we took all of the stunned blacksmith's stock of smithing supplies and produced a small stack of weapons and armour - which would keep him in coin for many months, I say with some pride! - in a matter of small hours.

While all this was going on, friends Caerellin and Shaade appeared and declared they were leaving to do something in a barrow...Well, each to their own. Little did I know, it would be some time before I saw Shaade again, else I would have made more of a thing of her leaving. Ah well, the moons still cross the sky and other assorted cliches!

When Caerellin returned alone, and also bade us farewell, little did I know how things would change.



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As the end of the daylight had been lost to helping the 'smith clear up his forge, Olfsson and I decided to accept the hospitality of friend Ralof's sister. However, we discovered that there was only one bed available. Olfsson looked at me and said, "We're not that close". The whole household erupted in laughter. Khajiit politely offered to stay at the inn, to which Gurdur said, "Only at our expense, with our apologies. But first, you dine with us." You couldn't find better peoples (or cooks, as it happens) anywhere.

Next morning, the Nord and I walked down a winding picturesque part-cobbled road. Suddenly we heard sounds of battle coming from the valley. Looking about us with life detect to check for prying eyes, we cast the speed fortifyer and rushed down to the valley floor.

Several people were fighting - with less than brilliant success - a Giant. Lest we tip our hand, we both slowed to normal speed and ran towards the battle.

Olfsson, as is his wont, charged at the Giant with his shoulder down. Knowing that at the last moment he would augment his speed and strength, I watched as he collided with the towering menace. The Giant toppled over onto a fence, the post of which skewered it through and out the stomach. He roared and tried to arch his back. I ran to the other end of the bearded aggressor, and, as he looked pleading at me, I removed his pain made of this world.

I turned to see Olfsson deep in conversation with a slight, yet obivously well able, red-headed Nord. As the party turned towards the city further into the valley, Olfsson turned back towards I and nodded. It seemed we had found the Companions.

My journey would have been quiet had it not been for the Olfsson-like Nord called Farkas that joined me, and began conversing with me about Heavy-Armour, a topic very close to my heart. A joy to finally meet someone as well able to discuss the intricacies of multi-weave metals and the despair of threading leather straps through Orichalium!!. A true master of Heavy-Armour I had found in Farkas, a Brother-in-Armour!!

And so I spent the hour of my journey to Jorvaskr - or however you spell the damned place - happy. A feeling that, sadly, was not to last.


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This post has been edited by McBadgere: Feb 11 2013, 07:35 AM

[McBadgere]

Yes, I know...Another bit...But I think that all four parts together are only as long as one of the latest NK posts...So...Y'know... ...

mALX and Acadian, thank you, as ever for reading...I know I can be difficult to follow at times... ...And Acadian, thank you for that entirely new way of seeing my Champion of Cyrodiil... ...

Grits...Many many thanks for your ever brilliant encouragment... ...*Bows*...


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We parted with more good news, it seemed that our surprise new ally was going to see to it that I was able to come and go through the city gates as I pleased. No more to be challenged by the challenged. This is good!

What’s more, this courtesy was to be extended to the Khajiit caravans and their traders!

Ah, truly the Age of Enlightenment was about to begin.

I headed in the direction I’d seen Olfsson and the Companions go. Through the colourful market, selling all sorts of wares - fresh fruit, jewellery, trinkets, odd and ends, that sort of thing. Some may call it junk, but as equally, some may call them treasures.

I ascended up a set of stairs that lead to an archway in an imposing wall, a stream passed through a second one to one side. As I reached the top, I beheld a truly impressive sight. An immense tree, not the healthiest specimen I have ever seen, but one which suggested that before whatever malady was ailing it, it was a sight to rival the Great Oak in Chorrol.

Ah Chorrol, not long had it been since we left Cyrodiil, but already a sadness for my home was growing. So much in the country is the same evil - bandits, marauders, mythical creatures, vampires - but the scale of what we were about to do...It scared us to high Aetherius sometimes.

I gazed at the tree some more, greying boughs led off a huge thick trunk, giving it a look of one from the scary tales parents often tell children in the cold nights, but somehow, I felt sad looking at it. As if, I had just missed something.

I approached the tree. I asked of the lady tending to it. “Excuse us milady, a lost Khajiit could use help?”

She jumped up, brushing soil from her hands, onto the sides of her robes. “Oh! My! Yes...Hello.”

“A truly impressive sight, milady?”

“Danica Pure-Spring.” She said.

“Er...” I answered.

“My name,” She laughed, “is Danica Pure-Spring, High-Priestess of Kynareth.”

“Oh!” said I, “Ah, yes, of course! Sir J’Zirlo of New Kvatch, at your service milady.” I bowed.

“Maybe you can be someday, Sir J’Zirlo of New Kvatch. Now, how can I help you?”

“J’Zirlo has to find the home of The Companions?...Jorrvaskr or some such name? However, Khajiit seems to have mislaid his guide.” I smiled.

The lady Danica smiled also and pointed up to an impressive wooden – well, what else? – building, that seemed to have – of all things – a giant Nordic longboat as a roof. As one does. But we are far from any rivers here. It must have been some feat to walk across the lands with that on their shoulders, even ones as big as Olfsson’s!

As I looked up to the - admittedly impressive - building, friend Farkas appeared at the door and looked about, seemingly to see if we were on our way up. He saw that I was by the mournfully beautiful tree and headed down.

“Lady Danica.” He greeted and bowed his head.

“Sir Farkas.”

“Aaah, stop teasing.” He smiled, “You know I’m no Knight.”

“Gildergreen says otherwise Sir Farkas. Trust her.”

“Gildergreen?” I asked.

“The tree.” Said friend Farkas. “Lady Danica says it’s alive.”

“She, Sir Farkas, is alive and very much aware of everything.” The Lady looked deeply into Farkas’ eyes.

For some reason, friend Farkas looked down. Ashamed? For why? We would endeavour to find out!

“One day, we will need both of your help. Please. Return when you have done what needs to be done.”

With that, the lady bade us farewell and returned to her tending.

Friend Farkas looked up at the tree, put a hand to it, almost lovingly, and then sighed, turned and walked up towards the longhouse.

“Come on,” he said, “I think your friend’s about to start a riot.”

“Sounds about right.” Said I, and followed him up.


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