Jerric's Story, A Nord's Adventures in Cyrodiil Options

[Grits]

mALX: Most people might have put their pants on before opening the door, but Jerric is an optimist!

There was a lot going on around that table, I’m glad the dialog worked for you. It’s hard for me to tell when I have people joking around if they actually sound like they’re joking or not. Thank you, mALX!

haute ecole rider: I’m really enjoying these sections where instant death is not looming around every corner. I’m glad the FG folks provided some laughs! Your recap of the read had me rolling!

SubRosa: The flashbacks were very much inspired by haute! I have been holding out for a segment where I thought it would fit well, I’m glad it worked. I love the comparison to your St. Bernard. Our Nord is also perhaps slightly larger and hairier than is absolutely necessary.

Every sentence I have written about Rhano’s history has triggered the info-dump alarm and then been unceremoniously deleted, so the rest will come in hopefully a natural way. Your insight is as usual right on the mark.

Acadian: You’re right, he was telling the story to his new guild mates, frequently interrupted by them. And at the beginning of the segment, he was already in the middle of the story – where we left off from the previous segment. I added the sentence ‘He continued to tell them the story.’ before the first flashback to hopefully smooth the transitions. I’m sorry about that, those what-the-heck moments really interrupt the flow for a reader. Thank you for pointing that out to me!

Thank you for your kind words about the rest of Jerric’s evening. That was my favorite part.

Destri Melarg: Your use of flashbacks in Interregnum made me think, I want to learn how to do that. Baby steps first! I’m glad you liked Sten’s demonstration of gender equality, FG style!

You have sensed the Jerric and Rhano relationship perfectly. Pretty soon I’ll manage to get the two of them in a room with someone who doesn’t already know, and there will be some explaining.

Where we are: Jerric helped Arvena with her rats and received an unexpected promotion. After he helped lower the level in the FG’s beer barrel, he returned home to find Abiene waiting for him.

Also, I made an oops in the last chapter. Llensi meant to tell Jerric that it’s Evening Star, not Frost Fall.




Chapter 10: Septims, Part 4

Abiene woke with the cold sun streaming through her windows. She had the habit of leaving her curtains open to invite the dawn inside, so that she might start each day with a few moments to herself. Last night she had stayed late at Jerric’s hut on the beach. This morning’s pale early light had failed to wake her. She slipped her arms into the ready dressing gown, then padded silently down the hall to the necessary. Folk were beginning to stir behind their closed doors as she made her way back to her chamber.

Abiene pulled her nightdress over her head and spread her exercise mat on the floor. She began to work her way through the stretches that warmed her muscles and loosened her joints before her morning meditation. She was surprised at the number of marks Jerric had left on her. He had warned her that he had been drinking, and now she understood his meaning. She had no idea how careful he was with her until he wasn’t.

As she began her more strenuous poses, a sheen of sweat broke out over her skin. She felt the familiar satisfaction as her body moved through the prescribed postures. Dibella had declined to make her voluptuous, so Abiene had made herself supple and strong. She allowed her pride to fill her thoughts, then she let it go. Instead of the emptiness she was seeking, she found her mind filled with images from the night before. Her sweat reminded her of the slick seawater on Jerric’s skin. The twinge in her knee made her wonder how she strained it, and then flush when she remembered.

This is ridiculous, she told herself. She stopped her routine and stood flat on both of her feet. When her eyes closed, she let the memory of every touch, taste, and gasping breath pass through her. She finished with the image that had warmed her heart as she slipped out the door. Jerric sprawled over the bed with his head against the wall and one foot on the floor, snoring. The cold night had washed over her as she walked back along the beach, this time alone. She chased the memory with her healing light, sweeping away her physical distractions. When she opened her eyes, she caught her own gaze in the dressing table mirror. Maybe I can find some time for a proper soak after dinner, she thought. I’d like to see him again tonight. Anticipation made her smile.

Her exercise invigorated her, and the meditation readied her mind for the day. She stood on her bathing mat for a cold sponge bath at her wash basin. When quick and clean were the goals, she felt no need to linger. Soon she was seated at her dressing table in a cotton shift, taming her curls with a pick and a wide-toothed comb. Ilonea still kept her supplied with smoothing cream for her hair, made by Ilonea’s own loving hands. Every morning Abiene thought of her fondly. Now the light scent brought only pleasant memories.

No jewelry today, she would spend most of it in the healing hall. She gathered her curls in a loose knot at the back of her head. Her white head wrap and robe would wait until after breakfast. She wore her healer’s garb like armor, for she needed as many boundaries as she could build between herself and her patients.

When she heard doors closing in the hall, she knew she ought to hurry. A simple linen dress in her favorite shade of medium brown slipped over her head and buttoned up the side. The high neckline showed off her collarbones, and nothing more. Well-worn flat shoes waited by the door. The draft in the hall reminded her that she had forgotten stockings.

“Good morning, Abiene.” Darnand’s voice broke into her thoughts and scattered them. He stood outside his door, almost smiling at her. She couldn’t see it in the dim hallway, but she knew his dark green mage’s robe would bring out the color of his eyes.

She took a few steps toward him until she could catch the scent of his soap. “Good morning,” she replied with a smile. She took his arm when he politely offered it, even though she doubted she would need support on the stairs. “Do you have a little time this morning? I would like to consult with you on one of my patients.”

They reached the foot of the stairs, and he gestured for her to precede him into the dining room. “Certainly. In what way do you believe I might render assistance?”

Abiene walked to where breakfast was laid out on the sideboard, smiling her greetings to her fellow mages. She handed Darnand a plate, then got one for herself. “Not with the healing, of course. It’s an Argonian child, I’m afraid I haven’t diagnosed her correctly. It appears to be a wasting illness, but she has not responded to my treatment as well as I would expect. I hope your research might provide some insight.” She placed an apple pastry on her plate, then filled a bowl with hot porridge. She sprinkled raisins and dried berries over the steaming oats.

Darnand followed her along the sideboard, filling his plate. “I suppose you have ruled out poison. An ill Argonian is unusual. Of course, I am pleased to do what I can for you. It might surprise you, but I suspect that for a difficult diagnosis we might turn to Jerric.”

Abiene stared at him, kahve pot forgotten in her hand. “You’re right, I am surprised. You’ve worked with him, his healing feels like…”

“An assault, I agree.” Darnand scooped eggs onto his plate next to the pile of fried potatoes. “And he sends his magicka through a person with the force of a hurricane. I do not suggest him for his delicate touch.” Darnand held out an empty mug. “I have a theory about him. If I am correct, he should be able to easily diagnose those maladies that are magical in nature. Of course I will attempt first, I hesitate to subject a sickly child to what might be a troubling experience. It is just another approach we might try if my research fails me.” He glanced at the pot in Abiene’s hand and raised an eyebrow.

Abiene mentally shook herself and filled their mugs with the steaming brew. “Do you suspect some kind of curse? How can you know without examining the patient?” They walked to the table, and Darnand held her hand as she stepped over the bench.

“I cannot, of course. However, given that the patient is Argonian, a magical attack would be the simplest answer. What did you think when you first examined her?”

“I thought she had been cursed by a ghost,” Abiene admitted. “But she said she hadn’t, and she would have known.” Darnand sat watching her with his kahve mug in his hand. “Although… I’ll talk to her about it again. If she’s been sneaking into the chapel through the undercroft, she might be more afraid of punishment than of her illness. Her parents do not follow the Nine. Thank you, Darnand. I’ll treat her with…” Abiene stood, her mind running over her options.

Darnand’s hand on her arm stopped her. “Eat your breakfast, Abiene. She is not going to waste away in the next few moments, and you will need your strength.” His eyes were warm on hers for another instant before he turned his attention to his plate. “Would you still like me to accompany you to the healing hall?”

“You are always welcome there, but I don’t want to take up any more of your time.” Actually, I do, Abiene thought. “Do you want me to tell you how it goes?”

“Yes, I am interested. I am pleased to offer any assistance that you might require, although I must admit that I am not particularly skilled in winning the trust of the young.”

“I’m sure she’ll tell me, I know just what to say. Away from her parents, of course. I’m afraid I wasn’t always truthful to my own mother.”

Darnand’s eyes smiled at her. “Who could truthfully say that they were.” He looked at her while he seemed to come to a decision. “I am sure that you would arrive at this solution on your own,” he continued quietly, “But if she has been cursed by a ghost, I might suggest ectoplasm blended with the oil from bergamot seeds.”

He knows I’m not skilled in mysticism, she thought. And he doesn’t want to embarrass me. “Thank you, Darnand. I was going to have to look that up.” I’ll trust him, she decided. “I would like you to come to the healing hall later. I am going to perform a small surgical procedure on Jerric, and Carahil will observe. I need her recommendation for the position in Chorrol. I would also like your opinion, privately.” She watched his reaction carefully. I’m like a child, hoping for approval from Papa, she realized.

“I am intrigued. I shall work at Felen’s counter this morning, so that I do not miss the opportunity.” He turned his attention back to his plate. “What position in Chorrol?” he asked in a casual tone.

“With Gureryne Selvilo at the Chapel of Stendarr. He combines surgery with restoration magic. He has one position for a student, but it’s already filled. I’ve been waiting for over a year for Carahil to send him a letter recommending me next. She… has some reservations about it.”

“Surely not with your healing?” Darnand glanced up to the end of the table where Carahil sat chatting with Gulitte.

“No. Well, with my ability to keep a distance from my patients, not to become too involved. You know it’s different with me. Easier to get inside another person, but much harder to control.”

“I recall from our lessons together, but I confess I did not fully grasp your meaning.”

Abiene put down her spoon and gave Darnand her full attention. It was important for him to understand before she took the next step. “You know how the mind, body, energy, and spirit are all connected.”

Darnand turned to her, serious. “You told me, but I cannot say that I truly know.”

“It is enough that you believe it. When most folk send their magicka into another person, they can find the physical hurts and diseases. With further study they might also learn to diagnose damage to a person’s magicka or life energy, as you have. For some, all of these things appear woven together, along with any sickness of the mind or spirit. You can imagine how overwhelming that can be, and how deeply personal. At the worst it is a violation of both patient and healer.” Abiene waited, worried that he would look at her as if she was somehow abnormal.

Darnand glanced around the table, then met her eyes again. “Abiene, I am honored that you have shared this with me. Now I begin to understand. I can see that the temptation to overstep must present itself continually. Healing must be a great drain on you. It is hard for me to see why you have pursued it.”

Relief flooded through her. “Because at its best it can free folk of their afflictions, give them their lives back. I have learned how to control it, to avoid offending a patient’s privacy. And to preserve my own. This is what has kept Carahil from recommending me. She doesn’t believe I’m ready. In surgery I will use my magicka to help me guide the knife. The contact with the patient will be intense. She knows I care for Jerric, we all do. If I can perform a small surgery on him without trouble, she will be convinced.” Abiene placed her hand on his arm to make sure he was really paying attention. “And there is something more I should like to try. I will not announce when I do it, but I want you to watch for it. There is no one else I trust with this, Darnand. I value your opinion.”

He bent his head toward her to speak, then looked up and beyond her. “Good morning, Thaurron.”

The Bosmer set his plate next to Abiene and sat down, swinging his legs up and over the bench. “Good morning, good morning! How does the day greet you, my friends?” he bubbled.

This post has been edited by Grits: Apr 15 2011, 12:51 AM

[SubRosa]

What a wonderful little look into Abiene's life. I loved seeing her go through her daily morning yoga routine, and especially her thoughts on overcoming Dibella's lack of gifts. I am glad to see she is still working toward that position in Chorrol as well. It looks like she is almost there now.

Your description of holistic healing was wonderful as well. So too was the description of Jerric's rough and tumble method of using magic and how it effects other people.

I am going to perform a small surgical procedure on Jerric
I think I have the x-ray from that...

[haute ecole rider]

Yes, your holistic view of healing is pretty much spot on. You don't have to be the world's best doctor or veterinarian to know that the mind and spirit are entwined with the body and that full recovery is possible only when all are in balance with each other.

And you left us with a small cliffie! What exactly is it Abiene wants to do with Jerric? Other than the obvious, that is!

I will be watching for the next installment!

[mALX]

I am going to perform a small surgical procedure on Jerric
I think I have the x-ray from that...

I recognized the shape of the head right away, Homer Simpson !!!! ROFL !!!!!


*


@ Grits - The entire beginning scene with Abiene needs to be quoted for its excellence in million diverse ways and reasons.

Abiene is not fighting her feelings or holding back in any way, which may not end well for her. I don't see Jerric settling down in one place, specifically not Anvil. I see pain in her future when he leaves, unless like Parwen she is just "riding the wild stallion" while she has access to it in her pasture.

“You’ve worked with him, his healing feels like…”

“An assault, I agree.” Darnand scooped eggs onto his plate next to the pile of fried potatoes. “And he sends his magicka through a person with the force of a hurricane. I do not suggest him for his delicate touch.”

I was knocked out of my chair by this exchange !!! This is as brilliant as it gets!!!!

Either Arnaund/Darnaund is very good at burying his emotions or he is blind, and I doubt he is that wrapped in his studies to miss all the evidence under his nose (especially since she came back so late and her room is situated close enough that he could hear her footsteps - and most likely hear her humming).

I doubt he'll hold it against Abiene, but there may be some tenseness ahead between himself and Jerric. I'd hate/love to be a fly on the wall the day he walks in on them accidentally.


*

[Acadian]

What a delightful episode! I loved your gentle touch as Abiene let us know what happened the night prior while going about her morning routine in private. You made what I consider to be a series of perfect choices in crafting this scene.

Thank you for the yummy breakfast interlaced with such interesting conversation. I envy your effective and seamless weaving of background actions with dialogue here. Another healer who does and feels more than simply casting a spell! Wonderful!

Nit: “Certainly. In what way to you believe I might render assistance?”
I'm sure you wanted 'do' instead of 'to' here.

[Grits]

SubRosa:

I think I have the x-ray from that...

D’oh!! She’d really have to search to find that organ.

I’m glad you enjoyed the time with Abiene. When Jerric looks at her, he sees the most perfect woman in the world. But I thought that those of us who are not sleeping with her might like a more realistic view. We’ll get a little more insight into her character in the next two sections.

It has been interesting to think about spell casting as more than saying the magic word. I’m taking ‘learning a spell’ to mean someone coaching the student until they find their own way of doing it, which would mean big differences between people. I’m so glad that seems to be working!


haute ecole rider: It was fun to work magicka, skills, attributes, and ‘fatigue’ into Tamriel-style healing. I’ve taken ‘health’ to generally mean injuries, which is where most healing comes in. With Jerric’s Atronach sign, he can’t just go get everything fixed with a blessing at the temple. It’s made me think more about the different options people have when something other than ‘health’ is awry.

It will take the next two installments for Abiene’s intensions to fully come to light, stay tuned!


mALX: You’re absolutely right, Abiene has given up trying to diminish the Jerric Effect. She knows he’s leaving at some point, and she knows she’s going to Chorrol for awhile. Seeing that there’s heartache ahead hasn’t stopped her from walking down that beach every night. Of course, at this point he’s only been back three days.

You bring up an excellent point, how far up his own rear must Darnand’s head be? There’s more shortly about what’s on his mind, why he’s been so busy, and why no one thinks Abiene’s hours are odd. I had to smile at the image of her skipping up the stairs at 2 in the morning, humming! At this point if Darnand decided to pay a late evening visit to the beach hut, there might indeed be an abrupt exchange of fire and frost. Flies on the wall, beware!

I’m so glad you shared your thoughts about A,D, and J, it really helps to see if I’m getting things across. You are the architect of so many complex relationships in your story, and my head is swimming with just these three!! Thank you so much for your kind words, mALX! Your encouragement means a lot!!


Acadian: Thank you for spotting that nit for me, it’s fixed. I’m so pleased that you approve of Abiene’s style of healing. Buffy’s empathic healing first made me realize how completely different Jerric is from Buffy in that way, then led me to think more about the whole subject. We’ll see a little more about Abiene in the next two sections.

Your praise made me smile and blush, then grin! Abiene constantly threatens to change the name to “Abiene’s Story,” so I have to keep her distracted. I’m so glad you enjoyed the time we spent with her.


Where we are: Jerric is working through his ‘to do’ list with the goal of earning some money. Abiene has plans for him when he next passes through the mages guild hall. And she wants Darnand to watch.



Chapter 10: Septims, Part 5

Jerric stepped into Morvayn’s Peacemakers, braced for the noise and hot smell. He found Varel Morvayn behind his counter and Enilroth working at the forge. Varel waved him over. “Enilroth has most of your equipment. We’ll settle up while he’s finishing.”

Jerric raised his voice to be heard over Enilroth’s noise. “All right. What do I owe you? I might not have the coin to pick up all of my gear yet.”

“I did not repair your cuirass, Jerric. The enchantment is broken. I could still repair it for you, if you wish, but it will be expensive.”

“I was afraid of that, Varel.” He felt sick over the loss.

“What do you know of mender’s magic? It looked as if you had used repair hammers on your shield and some of your blades.”

“I did, when I could find them. I’m no mender, but I can use their enchanted hammers on mundane things.”

“A mender could do a better job repairing your surcoat than I would, and I know you’ll want to keep it. I suggest you find one and get some training. There’s no one in Anvil who can do it, but I know that Rohssan in the Imperial City is a mender. Her shop is called A Fighting Chance. She could train you to use the hammers on your enchanted gear. It’s a shame to see such things ruined.”

“That mail is Batul gra-Sharob’s work, I’m just sick about breaking the charms laid on it. I was away too long, you saw how I had it held together. I used up one of those hammers just on the surcoat. I couldn’t let it fall apart. Sentimental, I know, but it wasn’t a time of clear thinking.”

“You could use them to mend your socks as long as they weren’t worn away, but it would cost you. I have a supply for sale, of course. You should buy as many as you can afford and use them. I hate to lose the repair business, but you need to be able to work on your own gear, from what I’ve heard about you.”

“What have you heard?”

Varel gave him an assessing look. “That you’re going back into Oblivion, as soon as you find a Gate. That you’re chasing daedra so you can eat their hearts, gain their power. I won’t repeat the less flattering rumors.”

“I guess folk think I’ve lost my mind.”

“Most are glad you’re doing it. Those that know you, understand.”

“Well, I’ll need a new cuirass too, I guess. At least before I go back on the road. I want to enchant some of my gear, but I didn’t think about how I would maintain it.”

“Better keep that katana aside until you see Rohssan, unless you’re sure you can make it back to a town where someone can repair it for you. Your Wolf shield as well. Enilroth brought it back to new condition.”

“Better than new!” Enilroth called out. Jerric wondered how he could hear them over his ringing hammer. Maybe Bosmer ears were big for a reason, he thought.

Varel smiled indulgently. “I’ll let him go over the details with you. He’ll want to show you what he did with your new dagger, too. Where did you get that katana? I’ve seen the type before, but they’re rare.”

“Up north.” Jerric stood looking at his boots. “Varel, I want you to repair the mail anyway. I can’t give it up. It might be a week before I have the coin to come back and get it.”

“I’ll do it. Don’t go back into a Gate without it, Jerric. I want you to live long enough to pay me.” Jerric stared at Varel, disbelieving. “Yes, you can take it as soon as I’ve finished.” He held up his hands, palms out. “Do not spread it around. And don’t come back for a few days, it will take some time.” Varel’s face creased into smiling lines. “Don’t forget, you’ll need a new doublet as well. All that was left of your old one was ash held together by blood. I still have it, if you want it back.”

“No, it just needs a decent burial. Thanks, Varel.”

“Don’t mention it. I mean that. Even to Enilroth, let him think you’ve paid me.” They both glanced over at Enilroth. The young Bosmer rolled his eyes without breaking the rhythm of his tapping. “How does he do that?” Varel demanded, exasperated. “I would swear the lad can read minds.”

“So I can take my greaves, gauntlets, helm, both swords, shield, old dagger and new… I’ll want a hand axe to get at those daedra hearts I’m supposed to be eating… How much is that?”

The Dunmer’s face took on its usual shrewd expression. “Let me start with a question. How much do you have?”

Jerric concluded his transaction with the two mer and headed over to the Mages Guild hall. Darnand greeted him from Felen’s counter. “Jerric,” he called, wiping his hands on a cloth. “Set aside your burdens, we have business at the healing hall.”

“Good day to you, too,” Jerric replied. “How about some lunch first?”

Darnand stared at him. “Lunch? It is just past ten bells.”

“Breakfast then.”

“Stow your gear, Jerric. Let us go. Abiene stayed late at the healing hall last night, I do not wish to keep her waiting this morning.”

So that’s what she’s told them, Jerric thought. He passed through the guild hall to his cupboard in the basement with exaggerated care. His own width presented enough of a hazard to his fellow mages, even without the weapons he carried.

On his way back to Darnand, he scooped up a snack from the dining hall. Gulitte and Darnand appeared to be in some kind of standoff in the front hall. Jerric chuckled to himself as he shouldered his way between them. “Let’s go, Darnand,” he chided, holding the door open. “It’s rude to keep your healer waiting.”

Jerric followed Darnand out the front door and around the building to the healing hall. He carried a red apple in one hand and a green apple in the other. He alternated taking bites from each, enjoying the contrast between tart and sweet. Darnand held the door while Jerric stepped into the healing hall’s vestibule.

Wide double doors in front of them stood open to the healing hall’s large main room. Light streamed through the high windows that ran down both sides of the room. Jerric could see the rows of patient beds with their accompanying chairs and small tables. Some were shielded from his view by canvas screens. He knew that figures in various states of distress and recovery must be reclining there, some attended by worried relatives. The scent of pine oil gently touched his nose.

It wasn’t until he was standing in the healing hall that he realized Carahil had followed them. He smiled at her sheepishly around a mouthful of apple.

“Please find Abiene,” Carahil told Darnand. “I shall take him to the procedure room.”

Carahil led him through one of the side doors and down a set of well-lit stone stairs. Jerric recognized the cool light as the same that illuminated the lower levels of Cloud Ruler Temple. He peeked over the top of one of the wall sconces as he passed. The half-bowl shape was filled with small chips of glowing aquamarine stone.

He followed Carahil’s tall form into a small, equally bright room. Open shelves lined the walls, and the center of the room held a high bed, almost a table. A metal fixture hung over the bed, lighting it with Welkynd stones. He found a metal waste can and dropped his apple cores in, then wiped the juice on the seat of his trousers. Carahil’s gaze was on him, and he flushed. He had time to notice that the shelves held a great deal of folded linen before Abiene and Darnand entered the room, saving him from having to comment.

Abiene wore her white robe with an apron, and her hair was contained under a white wrap. He found that his fingers wanted to twine themselves in the curling tendrils that had escaped. She walked to him and took his arm, looking up intently into his face. “Are you ready for this?” she asked.

“Yeah. I mean, you just want me to hold still, right? I don’t think I need to study for it.” When she didn’t smile back at him, he realized how tense she must be. He glanced over at Darnand. “Are you here to make sure I don’t run away?”

“Indeed,” Darnand replied crisply. “Shall I paralyze you now, or would you like a head start?”

“In the chair,” Abiene said. “Here, straddle it and lean forward over the back.” She pulled his shirt over his head and handed it to a very young Altmer lad who seemed to have appeared out of thin air. Jerric felt Abiene’s hands on his shoulders, giving them a secret squeeze. She stepped away and began making her mysterious preparations with the Altmer.

Carahil stood where Jerric could see her. “Did Abiene explain the procedure to you?” she asked.

“She’s going to cut on me a little, then heal it. On that scar.” He tipped his head toward the affected shoulder.

Carahil looked over Jerric’s head at something. Abiene stepped around where he could see her. She used her fingertip on his skin to illustrate her explanation. “I’m going to cut along the edges of the scar here and here, then run the knife under the skin to remove the adhesions,” Abiene told him. “You will still have a scar, but it will not pull at your skin any more when you move your shoulder.” He could hear metal clinking on metal behind him. He caught the scent of her hair, the mint stems she liked to nibble, and the faint tang of her nervous sweat. “I need you to hold still, Jerric. It’s going to hurt.”

“Not as much as when it happened, I’ll bet.” He smiled up at her. “Go ahead, I’m not worried.”

She worked quickly, murmuring softly to her Altmer helper. It burned fiercely for a few moments while he guessed she was cutting, not even long enough for sweat to pop out on his skin. Swirling white light was followed by some splashing and wiping. Abiene’s hands on his shoulders again told him she had finished. “There,” she said to Carahil triumphantly.

Jerric could still see Carahil’s face. She nodded briskly to Abiene. “You have your recommendation.” Then she smiled and swept out of the room.

“I’ll finish up, Yanerion,” Abiene told the Altmer. “Thank you for your assistance.”

Yanerion folded his hands and bowed to Abiene, almost reverently. He shot Jerric a curious look, but didn’t speak as he too left the room.

Abiene let out a great sigh of relief. She stepped back around in front of Jerric. “I’m glad they left, it will be much better this way,” she said over his head to Darnand.

“What will be better?” asked Jerric.

[haute ecole rider]

And I'm still hanging!

Great description of the surgery from the patient's perspective.

Though a spell to numb the area before cutting would be great - the TES version of a local anesthetic. Hmm - *scribbles notes to self*

Okay, I'm back. It's great to get inside Jerric's head again. The transactions with Morvayn and Enilroth were fun, especially this:

They both glanced over at Enilroth. The young Bosmer rolled his eyes without breaking the rhythm of his tapping. “How does he do that?” Varel demanded, exasperated. “I would swear the lad can read minds.”

This speaks volumes of the relationship between master and journeyman! They remain two of my favorites of the Anvil residents.

[SubRosa]

That you’re chasing daedra so you can eat their hearts, gain their power.
No, that is Buffy who eats their hearts! I did love these rumors flying around about Jerric Lionheart. I see Varel may not have a lion's heart, but he does indeed have a heart, seeing that he is willing to do the work on Jerric's gear for whatever he might have in his pockets.

“I shall take him to the procedure room.”
When a hot Altmer woman says this, well, it does bring up some interesting images!

Ahh, so that is the procedure? A clever idea, both showing that inexpert healing can lead to less than optimal restoration of the body, and how that can be fixed through surgery. I am with h.e.r. in that I imagine anesthetic spells would probably be common (and probably a good way to incapacitate people in combat!) Both as a local and as a general form (a simple Drain Fatigue would do that, so long as the effect was big enough). Likewise, do not forget the plethora of drugs which can do the same. IRL, people have been using poppies and the like for thousands of years as anesthetic for surgeries.

[Acadian]

I enjoyed the description and thoughts on repairing equipment and how it interfaced with the game. Nicely done!

Jerric wondered how he could hear them over his ringing hammer. Maybe Bosmer ears were big for a reason, he thought.
Ahem, Bosmer don't have big ears. They simply have small heads and bodies.

Darnand stared at him. “Lunch? It is just past ten bells.”
Well, Jerric (two fisted apple eater that he is) knows that the most important meal of the day is the next one!

The whole surgery scene was neat, and your descriptions rendered it very easy to clearly see the facility. And what better place than the MG at Anvil?

“What will be better?” asked Jerric.
Jerric, you took the words out of my mouth.

[mALX]

Of course, after these ominous words I was expecting anything:

Abiene has plans for him when he next passes through the mages guild hall. And she wants Darnand to watch.

GAAAAH !!! Abiene can't be planning on breaking the news to Darnand right in front of Jerric after he just went through surgery!

... (edited out several ridiculous and inane jokes regarding that scenario) ...

Jerric may have bluffed off a brave front to the others, but noticing every scent, sound, etc. in the room - that is nerves, and a touch of fear maybe.

Great Chapter, and Awesome Write (as always !!!)

[Grits]

haute ecole rider: All is revealed next! I’m glad you liked my treatment of Varel and Enilroth. After I enjoyed your winsome Enilroth (banging away with his wide grin), I found that mine was suddenly younger! And yay, sribbling!!

SubRosa: And I think it was Julian who calmly sliced up a daedra heart like a bell pepper! Varel will be looking for the rest of his payment, thus the admonition for Jerric to stay alive. But it was awfully nice of him to give Jerric his gear back in the meantime. When I wrote Carahil’s line, I did have a brief flash of her in long, black gloves holding various implements of discipline. Maybe she’s trying to tell us something!

Acadian: Jerric apologizes for possibly implying by extension that Buffy’s ears might be anything other than perfectly sized. I’m glad you liked the repair hammer explanation, it took a long time for that idea to bubble up to the surface!

mALX: You’re right, sitting still while someone cuts him is not one of Jerric’s practiced skills. Anyone but Abiene would probably not have gotten such cooperation from him. Thank you, mALX!!

Where we are: Abiene did a little slicing on Jerric, earning her ticket to Chorrol from Carahil. Now she is ready to enact the rest of her plan, with Darnand’s interested assistance. They’re still exactly where we left them.



Chapter 10: Septims, Part 6

Abiene continued to address Darnand. “Yanerion will be a powerful healer when he matures. In a short time by an Altmer’s way of thinking, he will be a candidate to study with Master Selvilo. Some mer would reserve the position for an Altmer over a Breton without even considering it. This past year that I’ve worked and waited for my chance has been the blink of an eye to Carahil. And after all, the time it takes to train us is the same. Yet the mer will still be practicing centuries after I am gone.”

Darnand’s voice came from behind Jerric. “That does not make it right.”

“No. And I do not accept it.”

“Carahil thinks highly of your skills as a trainer,” Darnand pointed out.

“That does not work in my favor. My students advance quickly.” She glanced down at Jerric. “Usually. The empathy that gives me an advantage in training will be a liability in surgery, in Carahil’s eyes. That’s why I had to show her I could cause some pain without hesitating. She thinks I won’t be able to practice this kind of healing, that training me will be a waste of time.”

“It would be better if you did not have to inflict pain,” Darnand remarked. “Surely there is a spell… Perhaps paralysis, reversed somehow. The patient would be able to move, but feel no pain. Combined with…” Darnand’s voice trailed away.

“I imagine that there is.” Abiene’s hands gently stroked Jerric’s shoulder. He had to bend his neck to see her face. Her eyes still looked over his head, and he doubted she realized what she was doing. “The healers at the temples use medicines as well as potions. There is much for me to learn there. I’ve never even cut into a person’s skin before today. I knew I could do it, but she’s right, it was hard.”

Jerric cleared his throat, still looking up at Abiene. “What will be better?” he repeated.

Abiene looked down and met Jerric’s gaze with a small smile. She took his face in her hands, smoothing the hair back from his forehead. Darnand stepped around to look over her shoulder. “This deep scar, here.” She ran her thumb along the crease that extended from his brow to his hairline. “I would like to try to improve it. There is no guarantee, and I might only make it worse.”

Jerric snorted. “How could you make it worse? Go ahead, get some practice.”

“Come this way.” She guided him up onto the high bed under the glowing stones. “Lie down, and tip your chin back. There, like that.” Now she was all business again. She positioned Darnand’s hands against his face while Jerric looked up at the ceiling. Jerric could feel that Darnand held some kind of cloth. To catch the blood, he realized. “This will take longer, I’m afraid,” Abiene told him. She took a nervous breath and glanced up at Darnand. Jerric couldn’t see what he did, but it made Abiene smile. She looked back at Jerric. “Close your eyes,” she told him softly. He felt more cloth against his eyelids and brow.

This time it burned for so long that his sweat beaded up and trickled down his sides. The cloth in Darnand’s hands got wet enough to feel cold against his skin. Abiene and Darnand murmured to each other until Jerric heard the knife clink down. Now Abiene’s hands on his face didn’t soothe the pain away. Instead it felt as if hot needles were piercing the open edges of the wound. He felt his knees drawing up against his will, and he clamped his hands over the edges of the bed to keep himself still. He heard Darnand’s quick intake of breath as the burning grew more intense. Jerric wondered what Darnand was seeing.

Finally the pain lessened abruptly. Abiene let out a breath, and drew a long, ragged breath in. The cloth was taken away, then wiped back over his skin. Jerric opened his eyes.

Abiene sagged against the table, and Darnand moved quickly around to catch her. Jerric sat up and swung his legs over the edge as Darnand eased her into the chair. Now Jerric could see the bloody knife lying on a metal tray at the head of the bed-table, surrounded by blood-soaked cloths. His eyes passed quickly over them on their way to Abiene.

She slumped in the chair, pale with exhaustion. Her face held triumph and oddly, defiance. Darnand stood before her, gripping her hands. Jerric could see them both in profile. Darnand stared down at her with respect in his face, and something else. They both look like they just won something, Jerric decided. He began to feel a little left out.

“Tell me,” Darnand said to her. There was a note in his voice that Jerric had never heard before.

Abiene’s dark eyes blazed up at Darnand. “You saw.”

“I want you to say it,” Darnand insisted. Jerric felt completely puzzled by their intensity.

Instead Abiene looked over at Jerric, and her face softened into a tired smile. “How do you feel?” she asked him.

“Fine,” Jerric told her. He reached up and rubbed his forehead. The skin felt smooth and pliable, as if there had never been a scar. He wiggled his eyebrows experimentally. “Better than fine. That wasn’t just a healing. What did you do?”

“That was a restoration,” she said. “I wasn’t sure that I could do it. I removed the damaged tissue, then I helped you grow new skin.”

“You did what?” Jerric didn’t understand.

Abiene began to look nervous. Darnand stepped over and picked up the tray. There was a strip of bloody flesh on it about the length and width of Jerric’s finger. “She removed the scar,” he explained. “There, that was it. Then she restored your skin. Not just with healing, but with true restoration.” Darnand put the tray down and retrieved Jerric’s shirt. “Look, this tear could be a cut that would be easily healed,” he explained excitedly. “Just place the edges together. But here the cloth is worn away, the fabric is gone. What Abiene did is re-weave the cloth, as if the threads had grown out new again from the edges. In your case, the difference is subtle, as the wound was only skin.” Darnand looked over at Abiene with what could only be pride. She gave him a quick nod of approval. Jerric realized that Darnand had not known what she was going to do, either. Darnand gave his attention back to Jerric. “It looked like it hurt.”

“Yeah, it hurt.” He pointed at the tray. “So that bit of meat there, that’s a piece of me?” He felt a little sick to his stomach. Darnand covered it again with a piece of reddened cloth.

Abiene stood and joined them. “Are you angry? I should have brought a mirror. The scar is gone, Jerric. It’s all new skin.” She glanced at Darnand and back at him, placing her palms lightly on his knees. “Imagine the possibilities. So many times I’ve had to heal over someone’s eye, because part of it was lost. Now I know I can restore it.” Her own eyes held a light that he found disquieting. He must have shown it, because her face filled with distress. “It’s not wrong, Jerric. Every part of your body knows how it’s supposed to be, complete. I didn’t impose my ideas on you, or change you. I used my power to make you whole again.”

“After you cut off a piece. I’m not angry. Well, a little. Yeah, I guess I’m angry. I just wish you would have told me first.” She started to turn away, blinking back tears. “No, it’s all right. I’ll get over it,” he told her quickly, reaching out to take her hands. He felt hurt in a way that he wanted to deny. “I trusted you, but you didn’t trust me,” he explained. The new distance between them was worse than the betrayal, he decided. He wanted to draw her into his arms, but her glance over at Darnand stopped him.

“We are both trusting you with this knowledge,” Darnand said solemnly. “This magic is far outside the bounds of the guild school of Restoration. It has more in common with necromancy than the way the Mages Guild teaches healing. This kind of power in the wrong hands could be devastating, but it is wrong to fear it. Only respect it, and use it correctly.”

Darnand’s words only made Jerric more uncomfortable. “How did you know about black soul gems?” he asked Darnand. “Gulitte had never heard of them.”

Now Darnand looked worried. “Black soul gems are used in necromancy, they are not widely known. I hope you will not mention them to anyone else. I stumbled across a reference in my research. I still have not learned how they are made.”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t say who told me about them.”

Abiene’s eyes were wide, fixed on Darnand. “Why are you studying necromancy?” she asked tightly.

“Please do not think I am seeking that kind of power. I believe there is a war coming that has nothing to do with daedra. Half of the Council of Mages resigned when Traven became Arch-Mage. Many others left with them. They did not just go join the Bakers Guild.”

“Great,” Jerric said, disgusted. “Dagon isn’t enough, now we have to worry about our own fetching mages?”

“Perhaps not,” said Darnand. “I would like to proceed with our plan. Necromancers have been driven to the shadows, but the daedric threat is upon us. I would not have chosen to bring this matter to your attention now, however it seemed preferable to letting you assume I have commenced a career in necromancy.”

Jerric looked down at Abiene’s hands in his, trying to get back to the present issue. She had wiped her fingers dry, but they were still reddened with his blood. “So if what you’re telling me is right, could you take this piece you cut off of me and grow another Jerric?” he asked.

Abiene gasped, obliviously sickened by the thought. Darnand nodded gravely. “In theory, though it would require unimaginable power,” Darnand replied. “And the creature would be akin to a flesh atronach, with no spirit of its own. You begin to see why this knowledge must have been concealed. Abiene has not created a new magic, she has rediscovered an old one.”

“Why did you try this on me?” Jerric asked quietly. He held on to Abiene’s hands, though she tried to pull away.

“Because she wanted to help you,” Darnand stated firmly.

Abiene stopped pulling, and Jerric saw the guilt in her eyes. “Because I knew you would forgive me,” she whispered.

Jerric quickly ducked his head, sliding off the high bed. If she wanted him to keep their secrets, he would have to leave the room immediately. There was no way Darnand would miss the hurt he knew must be written across his face, and no way either of them could explain it away. “I’ll catch up with you later, Darnand,” he said into his shirt, pulling it over his head. “I’ve got to see about a job this morning.” He didn’t look back at Abiene as he walked out the door.

This post has been edited by Grits: Apr 21 2011, 03:18 AM

[haute ecole rider]

Wow. Just wow. You had a lot going on in this chapter.

Not only the re-discovery (yes, I think it should be rediscovered an old one) of tissue restoration (a hot topic in RL medical research for the past ten years, I might add) is highlighted here. There is also a shifting in the relationships between the three.

Abiene chose Jerric to try her idea on not only because she felt safe with his trust, but also to challenge her own ability to deal with her empathy. Performing this kind of procedure without any kind of pain relief is hard, not just on the patient, but also on the empathic healer (which is why we veterinarians love our drugs - for the pets, not for us!). Yet she was afraid to trust him with her intentions, simply because her idea was so radical she thought his trust would fail.

Jerric was hurt that she didn't trust him with her intentions. Understandably so. Trust is based on communications that pass in both directions, not just in a single direction from one to another. Trust built upon one-way communication is plagued and shaken by doubt. That is the root of conflict between friends, and something that drives many of the best dramas. You made it very clear that her lack of faith in him hurt more than her ministrations did.

Darnand is beginning to see Abiene in a new light. Yes, he always cared about her, but I always got the sense it was as an older brother cares for his younger sister. But now, he is seeing her as a person, not just another short-lived human.

There's more, but I'll stop right here so others have something to comment on!

[mALX]

Abiene hasn't heard about getting the patient's permission before performing procedures on them, obviously. Then to drag in his best friend to watch and glory in HER discovery (or re-discovery) - oh yeah. And to top it all off, Jerric may have just realized where Abiene has been spending her nights in his absence.

Abiene may have just gotten her last late night rendezvous with Jerric. He may be able to forgive, but will he forget? That remains to be seen.

This chapter was powerful in description both physically and emotionally. AWESOME WRITE !!!

[SubRosa]

Abiene makes a good point about the real-world effects that beings with vastly different life-spans living side by side. This is something that Bethesda ignores completely, and most other games, and even fantasy authors. Consider enlistment terms in the army. Twenty years is nothing for an Altmer, but a huge chunk of a human's life. Every Altmer could serve in the legion, retire at forty and receive a pension (and possibly land) for the next four hundred years of their life. Or the flip-side. What age would Altmer be expected to start school in Summerset Isles? Twenty or thirty? And finish at eighty or ninety? A human would die before ever becoming an adult, by Altmer law.

I would like to try to improve it.
Yikes, that does not sound good!

I used my power to make you whole again
That concisely sums up what Restoration should be. I honestly never pictured it as anything else. Although now that you have me thinking about it, perhaps novice level spells like the heal minor wounds could not create new tissue, only do little things like close up old wounds? It is an interesting thought, and would mean a major reworking of how ES healing works. But it might make the setting feel richer, as one could not simply cast Heal Minor Wounds a hundred times and regrow their lost arm.

It looks like you might be planning on using Darnand in a future fic, dealing with the necromancers perhaps? Maybe Abiene as well? I have to say, this episode has been a relief simply because Abiene is doing something of substance. Until now she has simply been the stock girlfriend character that nearly every male action hero has. In Jerric's Story at least. It is nice to see her growing into a role beyond simply that, as she had in Abiene's Saturalia.



nits:
There was a strip of bloody flesh on the tray about the length and width of Jerric’s finger.
You should probably put this in the paragraph above it, where Darnand says “There, that was it." . So the reader knows what he is referring to.

Not exactly a nit, but rather than use the term "golem', perhaps Flesh Atronach might be better, as they are already a feature of the ES universe?

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Apr 21 2011, 02:42 AM

[Acadian]

I also enjoyed Abiene's take on the Altmer mage's advantage over the Breton mage based purely on lifespan.

Just a fascinating episode with such interesting ideas of healing on Nirn.

Half of the Council of Mages resigned when Traven became Arch-Mage. Many others left with them. They did not just go join the Bakers Guild.”
This was a perfect touch of levity in the midst of a tense episode.

Abiene stopped pulling, and Jerric saw the guilt in her eyes. “Because I knew you would forgive me,” she whispered.
Very, very powerful moment here. What a wonderful lead up to it you did.

Nit: “It would be better if you did not have to inflict pain.” Darnand remarked.
I recommend a comma instead of a period after pain to introduce the speech tag.

[ghastley]

Looks like Abiene and Jerric are both trying to walk the fine line between withholding information that they think will hurt, and trusting the other. And those topics are always impossible to discuss, and equally impossible not to.

Which all makes for a great story. Especially as you've got this working in multiple directions at once for Abiene, with Jerric, Darnand, and Carahil, on many different levels.

[Grits]

haute ecole rider: You absolutely got my intentions in this segment. The whole time I read your comments, I was saying, “Yes! Exactly! Yes!” It was a challenge to present what Abiene did here through Jerric’s somewhat bewildered eyes. What a thrill to see that it made some sense. Whew! And I changed it to “rediscovered,” thank you.

mALX: Wait, wait, Abiene has not been sleeping with Darnand. That intense moment between the two of them was Darnand getting his first glimpse of that part of her character and liking it, while she realized that Darnand had finally gotten the message that there is more to her. At the same time Jerric was sitting there rubbing his forehead in confusion, as you pointed out. All of the good things about her are still true, but Jerric has some thinking to do! Or not, we’ll have to see. I love your enthusiasm, mALX! Thank you so much!

SubRosa: The way I decided to look at regular healing was that the magicka heals the injury the way the body normally would only much faster, or almost instantly with a powerful enough spell. Jerric’s scars result from him incompletely healing himself to conserve magicka, letting the skin heal the rest of the way on its own. The game does give us Aelwin Merowald’s old injury. If he could have it healed some more, why wouldn’t he sell the Jewel of the Rumare and do it? I had a hard time finding lore about healing, so I went with this way to make the setting richer, as you said.

I would love to keep going after this story, there is a lot more tale to tell! And I sure don’t see Jerric as the Arch-Mage. I’ll have to see how I get along with Darnand. I’ve dumped most of what I’ve written for him, because his thinking is so linear and dry. Abiene is wonderful fun to write, but she is not someone who would go out adventuring. I switched that sentence you pointed out, it makes much more sense the way you put it. And flesh atronach, perfect! I haven’t played the SI yet, so I had to look it up. Thank you!

Acadian: Thank you for spotting that errant punctuation, I fixed it. I think there could be substance behind some of the racial tension in Tamriel, since the differences in things like lifespan would have real repercussions. Thank you for drawing attention to Abiene’s line. It took a long time to get to that moment! Your kind words are so encouraging.

ghastly: You’re right, Jerric and Abiene have reached a point where silences can’t really be comfortable, because they’re too full of what they’re not saying. Thanks for pointing out how complicated Abiene has made things for herself, including trying to conceal her intensions from Carahil.

Where we are: Abiene surprised the boys with her rediscovery of true restoration and some newly revealed facets of her character. Darnand surprised the other two with his theoretical knowledge of necromancy. Jerric ducked out to regain his composure.


Chapter 10: Septims, Part 7

Jerric stood on the street in front of the Mages Guild and Fighters Guild halls, weighing his options. Now that he had his weapons back he could talk to Azzan about his next contract. His grinding teeth and clenched fists told him that his mood was not ideal for his guild mates’ inevitable jesting. He needed to find Maelona and see if she would hire him for something. And he desperately wanted to head straight down to the waterfront and fight until he was exhausted or imprisoned.

The pretty Redguard woman, he decided. I’m unlikely to kill her.

He headed toward Westgate to look for Maelona, joining the stream of quickly moving folk in the middle of the street. Many of them were pages or messengers, or youngsters just starting their apprenticeships. They raced about their masters’ business at a pace that kept Jerric at an easy lope. Stretching out his legs always helped him clear his mind. By the time he reached the evergreen oak near the Dock Gate, he was ready to be civil.

Jerric looked up at the great tree as he approached. He thought that no matter how many times he saw it, his awe would never diminish. Like the other massive evergreen oaks throughout Anvil, this tree had already been large when the city was built around it. The parks and plazas were designed to take advantage of their shade in a hot climate. This old tree’s canopy reached a much greater width than height. Its thick, sinuous branches snaked out in all directions. Stone benches were built in a ring surrounding the raised center of its root mass. The branches hung out past the benches far enough to keep most of them in shade. Jerric immediately spotted a Redguard woman seated alone on one of the benches.

The woman wore her tightly curling hair trimmed close to her head in a style that set off her soft features. Her long green chemise was mostly covered by a felt tunic and overskirt in a becoming russet color. Her dark green cloak hung tucked behind her shoulders, leaving her arms free. Jerric noted that the cloak also served to highlight Maelona’s assets, rather than conceal them. She sat straight and composed on her bench with her hands folded in her lap. She looked up at Jerric’s approach.

“Hello there,” she said pleasantly.

“Hello. I’m Jerric.”

“My name is Maelona,” she told him.

“Pleased to meet you. My friend Rhano said you might need a job done.”

Maelona gave a sharp nod. Her expression became annoyed. “How would you like to get my husband, Gogan, out of hot water?”

“Sure.” She gestured to her side, and Jerric sat down next to her on the bench. “What’s he done?”

“Believe me, he’ll need all the help he can get to worm his way out of this one. To think he’d fall for the gang’s scheme…” She pounded her knees with her fists. “Agh! I could kill him!” Jerric guessed that she would get to the point eventually. “I’m sorry. I’m rambling, and you look confused. Let me explain. There’s a gang of women in Anvil preying on the town’s men. They use their wiles to lure men out to some remote location and rob them blind. It’s been going on for some time now. The city guard hasn’t done very much about it, because frankly, the men who are robbed are so embarrassed, they don’t want to report it. Take for example the good-for-nothing husband of mine, Gogan. He cared more about their charms than my own.”

Jerric decided that Gogan must be some kind of fool, considering the charms that Maelona obviously possessed. The thought was accompanied by the knowledge that it would be unprofessional to remark on that subject. He smiled and inwardly thanked Arvena for her teaching.

Maelona continued her tale. “When Gogan was, uh… with the women, they took something quite valuable from him. No, it’s not what you’re thinking. He was carrying a precious family heirloom with him when he was lured out to their lair. The ring I gave him on our wedding day. The ring belonged to my mother, and it has been in the family for generations. I’m willing to give you all of the money I have to get it back. One hundred gold. Can you help us?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll help.” He bit his tongue to keep from asking what she thought he assumed the valuable thing was. He didn’t have a clue, and his curiosity needled him.

“Thank you,” she said. Her tone sounded relieved. “I’m afraid I can’t offer you much help, but I’ll do what I can. All I can tell you is that the best place to start is at The Flowing Bowl. It’s a tavern located outside the city walls on the waterfront.”

“Yes ma’am, I know the Bowl.”

“The Flowing Bowl attracts the worst Anvil has to offer,” she remarked with disgust. Jerric couldn’t tell if her scathing glance over his person was meant to include him in her judgment. “Gogan may be able to give you more information beyond that.” She placed her hand on Jerric’s leg. “When you go to The Flowing Bowl, always be on your guard,” she warned him earnestly.

“Uh, I will,” Jerric assured her. Now what was I going to ask next, he wondered. She removed her hand from his thigh, and he remembered. “Where can I find Gogan?”

“At home, hiding his face.” Maelona scowled, and Jerric felt included once again in the disgrace of all men. “I’ll take you there.”

Jerric followed Maelona’s cloak as she swept through the crowded street, staying about one long step behind her. He noticed that she moved with an almost feline grace. She did not turn her head or speak to anyone that they passed on the street. Jerric kept his greetings to quick nods at familiar faces.

Maelona led him into a modest house a short distance away on the main street. “Gogan!” she called up the stairs as Jerric pushed the front door shut behind him. She indicated the doorway to the right of the entry hall. Jerric stepped into the room to await Gogan.

Jerric could see that this room served as the home’s only living space. Low armchairs upholstered in some swirling dark red pattern flanked the hearth. A small wood fire warmed the room. A round table with two chairs stood to one side of the doorway, and a line of cupboards and storage furniture filled the wall to the left. He guessed that this arrangement must be fairly typical of these small Westgate houses. He had never been inside one. Footsteps on the stairs made Jerric turn back toward the door where Maelona stood watching him.

A Redguard man walked into the room, frowning. His burgundy linen clothing placed him in the middle class, but told nothing of his occupation. “What do you want?” he asked abruptly.

“I’m told you might be able to give me some information about a scam some women are running in town,” Jerric said. “I’m Jerric,” he added.

Gogan’s frown darkened to a scowl. “I see my wife couldn’t keep her big mouth shut,” he spat. “Yes, it’s true. I lost the family ring to those sirens. I’m ashamed about the whole incident, but not ashamed enough to ask for your help.”

“Well, your wife has hired me,” Jerric told him calmly. “I’d like you to tell me what happened, so I guess I’m asking for your help.”

Gogan glared at Jerric for another moment, then he seemed come to a decision. He continued in a friendlier tone. “I was sitting in The Flowing Bowl when the most alluring Nord woman you’ve ever seen walked in with an equally attractive Imperial woman following. After we exchanged words, I followed them out to a farmhouse. It was the old Gweden farm, up on the ridge southeast of town. Inside, they asked me to remove my clothes, get comfortable. Well… I did… and then suddenly they brandished weapons and robbed me! They sent me away with barely a stitch of clothing! Harlots! Just please, help me get my ring back. I want to save what’s left of my marriage.”

Jerric took a closer look at Gogan. Something about the man’s smooth voice and proud bearing made Jerric suspect that they were not strangers. “Do I know you from somewhere?” Jerric asked. “You look familiar.”

“How should I know?” Gogan demanded irritably. “I don’t keep track of who you’ve met. You just look like a Nord to me.”

Jerric tried to imagine Gogan with a bloody nose and one eye swollen shut, but that didn’t help. Next he tried to picture him in an Anvil Guard’s uniform. He grinned with sudden and complete recognition. “You’re with the City Guard!” he exclaimed. “I knew I’d met you somewhere.”

“You’ve got the wrong fellow!” Gogan insisted.

“Oh hey, sweet lady of Wayrest,” Jerric belted out. “Oh hey, sweet lady of mine! Remember that? I sang it all the way to prison that night. Had it stuck in my head. Damned pirates!”

Maelona stood in the doorway, rolling her eyes. “For the love of Dibella, he must know you!” she cried. “Now please, no more singing!”

Gogan had the grace to look abashed. “I didn’t think you’d remember, you were a few sheets in the wind. And most people don’t see past the uniform,” he explained.

“I never forget an arresting officer,” Jerric told him. “It’s either a good experience or a bad one, not in between.”

Gogan’s face relaxed. “It’s the same when you’re on my side of the law. It’s a good arrest that doesn’t end in blood. Of course, you were bloody when I got there, but not enough to cost me extra ink and parchment.”

“Is he some kind of criminal?” Maelona asked Gogan.

“Just a drunk and a brawler,” Gogan assured her. “Nothing serious.” He turned his attention back to Jerric. “I’m working undercover now, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention to anyone that I’m with the Guard.”

Jerric chuckled and looked down at his boots. He decided that now even Arvena’s training would not help him make a favorable impression on this employer. Then he realized what wasn’t making sense to him. “Wait, if you’re in the City Guard, why don’t you just go over to the Bowl and arrest those women?” he asked.

“None of the victims will come forward,” Gogan explained. “They’re all married and too embarrassed or just too embarrassed.”

Jerric was getting more confused. “Why didn’t you just arrest them when they told you where to go? You must have guessed who they were when they told you to go all the way out to Gweden Farm.”

“I don’t expect you to understand the subtleties of law enforcement, Jerric,” Gogan snapped. “We’ll do it our way. You go to The Flowing Bowl to meet the women, then go out to Gweden Farm like they’ll say. We’ll follow you and arrest them. Will you help us, or not?”

Jerric saw Gogan and Maelona exchange a look, and some silent communication seemed to pass between them. Suspicion bloomed in his head. Maelona was clearly annoyed, but she did not seem like a wife who had been betrayed. Any woman in Jerric’s family would have been too busy killing her husband to care about the ring, he realized. “Are you two even married?” he demanded.

Maelona rolled her eyes again. “No, we’re partners,” Gogan admitted. “We’re both working undercover for the Anvil Guard. But you can still help us with the operation.”

Maelona turned to her partner and hooked a thumb at Jerric. “He’s not as dumb as he looks, you might as well tell him.”

Gogan grimaced. “All right, here’s what happened. The story I told you is true. I thought they were interested in me, and I fell for their scam. They got my wedding ring, or at least the ring we’re pretending with. It’s made of brass, not worth much. Night after night I’m stuck in here with this one.” He thrust his hand out to indicate Maelona. “Thin little nightdresses! Some kind of skin cream that smells so nice! I’m merely a man, with a man’s weakness. That Signy is the most attractive Nord I’ve ever seen. When those women tempted me, how could I resist? What a mess I’ve gotten myself into.”

Jerric decided that now was not the time to take exception to the remark about men’s weakness. He glanced at Maelona. She had her arms crossed over her lovely chest and an extremely irritated look on her face. “I know Signy,” Jerric said to Gogan. “If she’s the most attractive Nord woman you’ve ever seen, I don’t think you’ve seen enough Nord women. You need to get to a brothel, and quit picking up tramps in taverns. I don’t want to lecture you, but the guild is there for a reason. It’s safer for you and it’s better for them. But I guess you know that now.”

Gogan glared at Jerric again. “Let’s get back to the point. Word is getting out about the gang, and the town’s men aren’t fooled as easily. Now these women are demanding more from those of us they’ve already tricked, to keep what happened quiet. Blackmail. They got a valuable family heirloom from Heinrich Oaken-Hull, and I heard some poor fetcher crying in his beer that he had to give them one of his wedding gifts. Astia Inventius just reported her jade necklace stolen, and I’m sure Pinarus took it to keep those sirens quiet. Who knows what else they’ve gotten. It looks bad for the Guard when we can’t solve these ‘crimes.’ It has to stop, and I’m not letting it get out that they tricked me. The rest of the Guard would never let me hear the end of it. We’ll have to set them up.” He gave Jerric an assessing look, and his expression was not pleased. “You’ll have to do. They’re getting desperate, it might work. Do you have any jewelry, or at least a decent shirt?”

Jerric shook his head. “Signy saw me lose a bet at The Flowing Bowl last summer. She won’t think they can embarrass me to keep me quiet. She knows I don’t have any shame.”

“What did you do?” Maelona asked.

“What you don’t know won’t get me arrested. Let’s just say that… well, let’s not say anything. Anyway, I know someone else who would be perfect. Darnand Penoit. He’s a Breton mage, and he looks like money. They’ll be on him like slime on a mudcrab. I might need a day to convince him, though. Let’s do it tomorrow night.”

“We’ll meet you at Gweden Farm for the arrest,” Gogan agreed. “Tomorrow night.”

This post has been edited by Grits: Apr 24 2011, 01:56 AM

[haute ecole rider]

Well, looks like you punched way more holes in that swiss cheese plot than I did!

I liked that the two of them are 'just' partners. I had to laugh when Gogan was complaining about pretending to be married to one as fetching as Maelona.

And you're right, Signy is nothing next to Sigrid!

Oh, and it's intentions, not intensions.

This post has been edited by haute ecole rider: Apr 23 2011, 04:55 PM

[SubRosa]

A lovely description of the evergreen oak near the dock gate. What a perfect choice of tree for the hot Anvil climate.

How perfect for Jerric to have recognized Gogan as a city guardsman! And one who hauled him off to the drunk tank no less! That was the thing that never made sense to me about them being undercover. The only way for it to really work would be if they were complete strangers in the city, which neither he or Maelona are.

Any woman in Jerric’s family would have been too busy killing her husband to care about the ring
Not just his family!

I loved Jerric's point about the prostitute's guild. They must be putting a real crimp in the lifestyles of tavern tramps everywhere!

I get the feeling that Jerric is quite familiar with the Flowing Bowl. It seems like the just the sort of place a person who ran a skeleton arena would frequent! Given the untold story about him and Signy, I see my guess was right!


nits:
Jerric followed Maelona’s cloak as she swept through the crowded street, staying about one long step behind her. He noticed that she moved with an almost feline grace. She did not turn her head or speak to anyone that they passed on the street. Jerric kept his greetings to quick nods at familiar faces.
Maelona led him into a modest house a short distance away on the main street. “Gogan!” she called up the stairs as Jerric pushed the front door shut behind him. She indicated the doorway to the right of the entry hall. Jerric stepped into the room to await Gogan.
The hungry forum at the space between your paragraphs.

One thing you might want to reconsider in your plotting is that it might seem more plausible if Gogan had never been tempted by the sirens at all. Perhaps he tried to act as bait with Maelona waiting in the wings to swoop down and arrest the sirens. But they recognized him as a guardsman, and backed off without doing anything. So now Gogan and Maelona need to come up with another way to catch the sirens in the act. Hence using a sap hero like Jerric.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Apr 24 2011, 02:01 AM

[Acadian]

It's so fun to work a familiar quest into the story now and again! I'm looking forward to how Jerric does. I love his reasoned idea of tagging Darnand to be the 'mark'. That was a delightful twist!

Like SubRosa, I quite liked the detail you lavished on the oak, with its canopy of shade above and inviting benches below.

“Uh, I will,” Jerric assured her. Now what was I going to ask next, he wondered. She removed her hand from his thigh, and he remembered. “Where can I find Gogan?”
Perfect! Your intent here is crystal clear, but you deliver it without overstating.

Nit? It was the old Gwenden farm, up on the ridge southeast of town.
Although you can certainly change names if desired, the farm in the game is Gweden and I suspect that changing the name to Gwenden was unintentional. Subsequent to this passage, I noted three more mentions of Gwenden.