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

[Burnt Sierra]

Goody. Weekly update time!

I didn’t end up posting a reply for last weeks entry, as I wasn’t quite sure what to say. The entry stood totally alone, and I wasn’t certain how it fitted into Abiene’s journey at this point in the story, so I thought I’d wait for the next update and a little context, and post a reply at that point to both updates. Which has arrived and helps! And now you get a double length reply, you poor thing.

Now, gliding over her poor opinion of Altmers (I have an entire roster of ESO, Morrowind, Oblivion and Skyrim characters muttering away over here ), the diary entry tells of quite a harrowing examination and a commentary on how life, or the cheapness of life, is viewed. With the benefit of context from the next update, a couple of things then jump out at me a little more from that diary entry.

“Its life energy rushed into mine through my outstretched hands. Hot joy churned in my chest, mixed with a keening horror. I heard my victim's groan along with a shriek. The cry had come from my throat.”

Hot joy churned in my chest, mixed with a keening horror. First of all, I’ve got to say, what a sentence! And shows, so beautifully, the conflict between the wanting to heal, but savouring the power.

And now, back in Chorrol in the almost, I assume, present time, where let us not forget, an Oblivion gate is very shortly about to open outside the city when Jerric arrives:

“Though I knew a spell to clean my hands, I would save my magicka for the afternoon's treatments and utilize mundane solutions for ordinary tasks. I have a mage's pride in her spells and a healer's need to use them on everyone.”

And then jumping back to the diary entry:

“She reserved her sharpest disdain for those who dared question her. Though she far outranked me, I had done so at every opportunity. Then Curciel received her Mastery. Pride, ever my companion, was not my friend.”

Pride. A pride in her abilities, and a pride in proving them. A desire to heal, but an inner conflict to how Restoration can also be used. A discourse on how life is viewed, when it comes to Goblins and so called “lesser races,” at a time when Daedra might soon be swarming outside the city. Not to mention how Curciel and Raminus’s disagreement in the exam might suggest a link to the conflict between the Mage’s Guild and the Necromancers who left - Curciel really did scream Necromancer to me. And there was even time, even in a period of religious peace, to suggest a little conflict (which has been mentioned before too) between her devotion to Dibella and how followers of other Divines consider themselves superior. An awful lot packed in those updates.

Final note, like Acadian, I’m really enjoying your switch to first person, it’s allowing her personality to shine through so well.

Now, let’s finish with the pointing out of a beautiful imagery moment:

“But it kept the rain beading up and rolling off like water on a swan's wings.”

Oh, yes, that’s lovely. Not just the picture it creates, but the rhythm of the sentence is extremely satisfying too! An honourable mention to, "The smirk oozed through her voice", as well. Say that out loud with an elongation of the ooze and it gives such a clarity to their relationship.

All that’s left to say is S.G.M. and roll on next Tuesday!

[Grits]

Previously: Starting her mid-day break, Abiene walked through the rain to visit Seed-Neeus at Northern Goods and Trade.

Acadian: I love writing for Abiene in first person! She would have it no other way. Her voice has been strong from the beginning, even when she hadn’t even appeared in the story yet. It has also been fun to write for a character who is going about their own business for the most part with the Oblivion crisis happening around her. She still has a lot on her mind that has nothing to do with daedra. She makes me want to write some pre-crisis adventures. Thank you, Acadian!

SubRosa: I forgot until I looked in my notes that Abiene also has a Resist Frost + Resist Heat ring from Jerric. She is well equipped to deal with the weather even with her curly hair. Thank you, Rosa!

Burnt Sierra: I thought of how many times your ESO Altmers have picked Jerric up off the floor when I was writing Abiene’s opinion! I’m sure by now she’s softened (and grown up) a bit, especially after getting to know Carahil. I’m glad you shone a light on Abiene’s pride. It has been at the root of some of her big mistakes. Like when she experimented on Jerric’s scar back in Anvil so that Darnand could weigh in on how she did it – without first explaining anything to Jerric. The push-pull going on in Abiene’s head makes her fun to write. Thank you, Burnt!

.

Chapter 21: Underneath, Part Two

No sooner had I reached the shop level than the door chimes rang again. Three women entered, pushing back their hoods. Two looked close to my age but younger. The third had gray streaks in her hair and a pregnant belly, obvious even under her cloak. Mud stained their hems at least two feet deep.

"Welcome to Northern Goods and Trade." Seed-Neeus's tone lacked its customary warmth.

The two younger women practically bowed out of the way of the third, then followed her up the stairs.

"Seed-Neeus," she said, "your delivery is late. I have come to make the trade myself."

"The rains have made the roads impassable for my wagon," Seed-Neeus said. A sharp note of musk hit my nostrils.

"I don't need excuses. I need my supplies." The woman's protruding eyes and downturned mouth made me think of a bullfrog. When she scratched where one lower lid met a puffy cheek, dry skin flaked off. Even her hands looked bloated. The swelling combined with her age and advanced stage of pregnancy rang alarm bells in my head.

Seed-Neeus drew her skirts away from the woman. "Do you wish to receive your entire order?"

The woman gave a sharp nod, then frowned at the taller of the others. "Marta, see to— Ugh, useless. I'll supervise the packing myself."

"As you wish." With an apologetic glance at me, Seed-Neeus led her back down the stairs.

I was left faced with the two young women. "My name is Abiene. I'm a healer at the Chapel of Stendarr. Won't you come by the fire? I don't work here, but let me help make you comfortable."

"I'm Marta, ma'am."

I gave a little laugh as I took her cloak. "Did you just 'ma'am' me? Please, you'll make me feel old. Call me Abiene." Marta's wind-flushed and freckled complexion marked her as Colovian. She wore an undyed woolen tunic over a roughly-stitched skirt.

"I'm Ruby." She handed me her cloak.

Ruby was also an Imperial, but with the darker coloring and slimmer frame of a Nibenean. Her gray blouse had probably once been white, and the blue of her jacquard skirt was also faded with long use. Most striking was her bodice, loosely laced in the front with ties that had been repaired. The fabric's deep red meant money in any culture. Embroidered garden flowers and songbirds in every color under Magnus ran from the waist all the way up to the shoulders.

I draped the cloaks over a bench to dry. "Here, let's pull up this chair. Do you think your…" I paused for an explanation of who the third woman was.

"Sister-wife," Ruby said, her eyes on the rug.

"Ravenna," said Marta at the same time. The two shared a look of companionable misery.

I was not entirely certain what a sister-wife was, but I could guess. I mustered a pleasant tone. "You share a plural marriage? The three of you?"

"It's legal," Marta said.

"I'm just a healer at the chapel, not some priestess or constable."

"Three of us and one husband," Marta said in a flat tone. "We're from Hackdirt. That's how they do it there."

"Have you always lived in Hackdirt?"

"No." Marta gestured at Ruby. "She's the newest. Ravenna found us at the same place. That camp south of Weynon Village."

Ruby's gaze shifted to some unseen distance.

I knew better than to pursue that subject. "Ruby, is that your needlework?"

Ruby nodded.

This told me more than she would have been comfortable sharing, I was certain. Ruby's extravagant embroidery demonstrated not only her prowess and the cost of the materials to make the garment, it also told of a solid support system in place around her. Only a family that could spare a daughter's time would have allowed her to develop such skill. I was a fellow gently-reared daughter. I knew the investment Ruby's family had made in her needlework. Displaying it reflected well on all of them.

But Ruby had clearly come down in the world since she had created her bodice. What had become of her family? Plural marriage could be the result of loving matches, but was most often a religious arrangement. My fingers curled against my palms as I looked at her chapped, dirty hands.

"It's lovely!" I said. "Such detail!"

Ruby smoothed her hands over her front. That's when I saw her little belly.

"Ruby," I said, "I see you are with child. Congratulations! When is your baby due?"

Her face crumpled. "Frostfall. Abiene. I'm due in Frostfall."

She was far too small at this stage for my liking. "Have you a healer in Hackdirt? I don't mean to intrude, but may I offer you assistance in any way? I work with…" Words failed me. How to suggest that these two could be counted among the unhoused and impoverished when they had just informed me of their home and family status?

Ruby gripped my forearm in her cold hands. "I cannot offer you payment. Please, if you could do anything, just to let me know… Is my baby… all right?"

Marta gave Ruby's shoulders a quick squeeze. "I'll head her off if she starts to come up here." She took two silent steps toward the stairs.

"I get the sense that your sister-wife would not approve," I said, "however that concerns me not one bit. Shall I give you a quick examination? You needn't undress. She'll never know."

Ruby replied by pressing my hands against her baby bump.

My magicka was still low from the morning's treatments, but I had enough to check. "Your baby is growing well for the time you told me. How much would you like to know?" I meant would she like to know if she carried a boy or a girl. Some religions looked down on mortal meddling in what they thought should be Mother Mara or some other maternal deity's realm of influence.

Ruby sounded breathless. "Does it have— I mean, its eyes. You've seen Ravenna. Is my baby going to be like that?"

"Your baby is developing normally. Is there a reason your sister-wife's condition would manifest in your child?"

"We think she really is our husband's sister," Marta whispered.

"They have the same…" Ruby made a gesture with her fingers around her face, opening her eyes wide to bug them out.

"Ah, I see." My stomach heaved.

"I suppose you wonder how we stand it," Ruby said. "Do not judge us harshly. Neither of us would have chosen this life, if we knew what was in store for us."

Marta spoke over her shoulder. "When you're gettin' done to by many and out in the cold with no one to speak up for you, it ain't so bad to only do for one and have a roof for shelter."

"That's what she told us," Ruby said. "First Marta and then me, when she met us at the Weynon camp."

"Was there no guard, or—" I stopped myself. Obviously there was no better solution, or either one would have taken it. The situation at the Chorrol refugee camp was no less dire. Guards were spread thin by the crisis and spent little time inside the camp. Some folk came to Chorrol for the sole purpose of preying on displaced people. Young Valdi had sought treatment at the chapel and been turned away, but found me for help. Many others lacked the persistence. Even with my intervention such that it was, Valdi continued to suffer at the camp.

Marta motioned Ruby over to listen at the stairs, then took her place at my side. "I don't want to have no goggle-eyed frog baby. I know I promised I would take whatever the… gods gave me, but you're a healer. Can you help me?"

"Marta, are you with child?" Her sturdy figure could hide several months, unlike Ruby's underfed frame. I had herbs that would bring on a woman's cycle, but that could end the promise of a life. As much as I held up a woman's right to determine her fate, I was loathe to be the agent of ending someone before they began.

"I don't know." Her voice was a whispered wail. "With Ravenna pregnant and now Ruby he's on me every day. I ain't never had no kid before. Maybe I can't have one, gods willing." She drew a hiccuping breath.

I placed my palm on her belly. "No, and it feels as if your cycle will begin within about a week."

"Thank you. Every time my moons come around, I don't even know who to pray to any more."

Most human women shared a similar cycle. There was some variation over time, but our bodies' tides ebbed and flowed with the moons that marked their beginning. Elves were different from humans of course, and the tailed races varied even from one another. It was difficult to tell whom to believe about such matters, however. Despite a large amount of first-hand testimony on the subject, there were numerous tomes no doubt written by males that contradicted even my own findings.

Regardless, there were steps that Marta could take to prevent pregnancy. Some were simpler than others. All required at least some preparation.

"Marta, what do you know about preventing yourself from becoming pregnant?"

"I know to make the boys spill their seed on your legs or on your belly, but that don't work with Bertollo. He's tryin' to put his baby in me."

"Does Bertollo have any other children?" We were running out of time, but I wondered about the possibility of birth defects.

"He did but the boys up and died. His girl run away I heard, but that's just what they'll whisper. There's no daughter of his buried in the boneyard, at least not marked."

There was so much to follow up on in that statement, I didn't know where to start. "Did you ever see any of his children? Did they have the... " In an admittedly unprofessional gesture, I waved my fingers in a circle around one eye.

"Ain't no little ones left, not in any of the houses. Only my brother, and he's no relation. That's why they're after wives. And why we had to walk here for Ravenna's goods. It's only two days til their ritual."

Ruby made a hurry-up motion, eyes wide.

"If you can cast spells—"

"I can't," said Marta.

"All right. I'll send some herbs in a packet with instructions, and some seeds so you can grow your own."

"Ruby can read it for me. Miss Abiene, you can't just send it to us on a shipment. They'll kill me if they think I'm tryin' not to get with child."

The clump of Ravenna's boots preceded her voice. "You two've lazed about long enough. Get down here before this lizard tries to cheat me again. Move it! We have ground to cover before nightfall."

Marta and Ruby scurried down the stairs, fastening their cloaks. I followed, at a loss. Ravenna showed signs of a potentially dangerous condition that could cause early labor. Another hard day's journey would not be healthy for her, but I had no grounds to tell her what to do.

I thought quickly as they sorted their bundles. "Would you like a hand with your packs? I can help you as far as the stable."

Ravenna didn't spare me so much as a glance. "What do I have at the stable? Even a cart won't get down the creek banks. Keep your hands to yourself."

Seed-Neeus flicked her fingers through the air. "The bridge is out? You did not mention this. I planned to bring the rest of my shipment once the rains stopped."

"I ain't your town crier," Ravenna said. "Bring the rest or don't, no matter to me. I got what I need, and not a day too soon no thanks to you. Our gods won't wait."

"You will carry all this on your backs?" Now I was alarmed for all three of them, hiking through the muddy woods with no magic at all to protect them.

Ravenna curled her lip at me. "We ain't your soft, city type. We never had walls and we don't need 'em. You keep your heads down and pray for your hides, and we'll live free and fear no one."

Ruby staggered a step when she shouldered her pack.

"It's half her weight," I said to Seed-Neeus while Ravenna hectored her sister-wives.

"She will not wait for delivery," Seed-Neeus said.

Ravenna led the two young women out the door without a word of farewell.

Seed-Neeus let out a sigh that collapsed her shoulders, then straightened. "Let us adjourn for our pot of tea. I feel the need for refreshment in body and spirit."

"Tea and warm company is just the prescription." I followed her down the passageway.

.

This post has been edited by Grits: Sep 2 2025, 08:38 PM

[Acadian]

A story of cult-like behavior gradually manifests itself pretty clearly, thanks to Abiene’s astute powers of observation and healer’s eye.

Ravenna seems well beyond salvage. Marta is of a good heart and humble background. Ruby also seems of good heart but from a much gentler background – evidenced by the details Abiene notes about her old and worn but monied clothing.

As the trio departs, they leave behind an air of gray despair rivaled only by the weather.

Hmm, Dar-Ma is Seed-Neeus’ daughter and this cultish little group is from Hackdirt. . . . Something tells me there will be more to this story. An adventure for Abiene?


Nit: "No, and it feels as if your cycle will begin within about {a?} week."

[SubRosa]

These are three interesting guests. One of whom definitely has the 'Innsmouth Look'. And my, isn't she a ray of sunshine.

So they are sister-wives (nothing to see here, just Patriarchy in action) from Innsmouth. That alone might account for their evident obsession with breeding a new generation. Or it might be that given their history, their current population may be a lot smaller than it used to be, and they want to increase it quickly.

The camp south of Weynon? Is that refugee camp created in response to the Oblivion Crisis I wonder? That would explain why Marta and Ruby have so obviously been displaced from their lives and into their current circumstances. I wonder if their families were killed by the Daedra? Perhaps they are from Kvatch? Now that I read further, I see that is basically the case.

Now I see the reason for the hurry. They have a ritual coming, in which they summon Father Dagon and/or Mother Hydra no doubt. I wonder if the woman who is not pregnant might end up as the offering?

[Kane]

Oh, poor Abiene, I really hope she doesn't get mixed up in the business at Hackdirt! I remember stumbling into that little hamlet the very first time I ever play Oblivion - talk about a bunch of weirdos!

[ghastley]

Abiene didn't run into Dar-ma at the shop, so we can make some assumptions.

Jerric is on his way, but there is a gate open. Timing is interesting, and anything could happen, if Grits loses her notes!

[Burnt Sierra]

Oh my, Ravenna is just charming, bullfrog features and all, and an interesting play on the phrase Sister-wife. Literally, it sounds like.

Some nice asides in Abiene's voice here, the first person perspective is working well for her.

Only a family that could spare a daughter's time would have allowed her to develop such skill. I was a fellow gently-reared daughter. I knew the investment Ruby's family had made in her needlework. Displaying it reflected well on all of them. But Ruby had clearly come down in the world since she had created her bodice. What had become of her family?

Most human women shared a similar cycle. There was some variation over time, but our bodies' tides ebbed and flowed with the moons that marked their beginning. Elves were different from humans of course, and the tailed races varied even from one another. It was difficult to tell whom to believe about such matters, however. Despite a large amount of first-hand testimony on the subject, there were numerous tomes no doubt written by males that contradicted even my own findings.

You manage to show the contrasting paths quite beautifully. The second quote there is masterfully done at giving Abiene her unique voice - that combination of scholarly and slightly sarcastic tone.

And talking of using dialogue to bring to life (no pun intended) a character's voice, special mention to Marta is deserved here.

Marta spoke over her shoulder. "When you're gettin' done to by many and out in the cold with no one to speak up for you, it ain't so bad to only do for one and have a roof for shelter."

Marta motioned Ruby over to listen at the stairs, then took her place at my side. "I don't want to have no goggle-eyed frog baby. I know I promised I would take whatever the… gods gave me, but you're a healer. Can you help me?"

Just brilliantly done. Roll on Tuesday!

[Grits]

Previously: Three women from Hackdirt came to pick up their order from Northern Goods and Trade since spring flooding had delayed their delivery. The two younger women asked for Abiene’s help with their reproductive concerns. Abiene reassured Ruby but ran out of time for Marta.

Acadian: Thank you for finding that nit, I fixed it. Gray despair is right! Those women have a rough journey ahead, and Ravenna wouldn’t even let them take a real break before heading back into the rain. It does seem as if Abiene is finally finding adventure! Thank you, Acadian!

SubRosa: Yep, you got it. Marta and Ruby were both displaced by events related to the Oblivion Crisis and found their way individually to Weynon’s camp. I imagine there would be a lot of stories like theirs, with some folks coming home to burned and empty homes and others never learning what happened to their missing loved ones. Whatever happens at Hackdirt’s spring ritual, I doubt it has any resemblance to the one that Abiene missed at Dibella’s Wayshrine. Thank you, SubRosa!

Kane: I remember my first accidental visit to Hackdirt, too. What a creepy place! Thank you, Kane!

ghastley: The Gate Jerric and Cevin find isn’t open yet in this scene. (Jerric is still in Moonshadow.) But you’re right, the whole plan goes to Oblivion if I lose my notes! I had to work out the Jerric/Lil+Dar/Abiene timelines on paper. I was at my local writer friends meetup when I finished. We all celebrated! Thak you, ghastley!

Burnt Sierra: Scholarly and slightly sarcastic is a great way to describe Abiene’s mental tone, especially on such a grumpy day as she is having! She tends to sweeten her words, sometimes a lot, so I am having a blast with her unfiltered thoughts. Thank you, Burnt!

.

Chapter 21: Underneath, Part Three

Seed-Neeus poured the tea while I transferred small cakes from a tin onto plates. My shoulders relaxed at our familiar ritual. The cakes were shell-shaped and bite sized, in a style favored in my home city of Leyawiin. The fragrance of apple and orange peel rose from our cups. Seed-Neeus always took my tastes into consideration. If I had not been present at the table, her tea might have featured more bitter flavors unsuited to the human palate, perhaps even poisonous.

I wanted to focus on us before bringing the Hackdirt women up for conversation. Though we had used this tea set before I had never remarked on it. "I admire your tea cups, Seed-Neeus. Are they from your home?"

Seed-Neeus took a slow sip before she answered, the handle-less cup cradled between her palms. "Yes. They are made from clay native to the Crimson Coast. The color you see is from the bones burned in the kiln when it was fired." Her claw tip fit precisely into one of the scored decorations. "The marks are made so, by individual claws. I did not bring many things with me when I left my home."

I settled with my tea, keeping perfectly still in the Saxhleel way. Seed-Neeus had the manner of someone about to tell a tale.

"This tea set belonged to my mother. We lived a quiet life in the swamps, near our Hist tree." She took another sip. "When I left, I took only what had already been given to me."

I gave Seed-Neeus a moment. "Were you happy in Black Marsh?"

"Oh yes! My life felt truly blessed. It was not easy, but we lived as part of the land, one with the Hist and all that the Hist encompassed. Dar-Ma's father… Dar-Ma's father was called Okan-Ja. We were young when we married. When I became gravid, we rejoiced. Until I did my star chart and discovered that our child would hatch in Second Seed, under the sign of the Shadow."

Jests and rumors about Shadowscales and the Dark Brotherhood popped into my mind. I bit my tongue to stop the questions. Here was real information, but the subject was close to Seed-Neeus. I did not want to accidentally offend her.

"I did not wish to turn our child over to the Shadowscales," she continued. "This was not a tradition of our people, but one imposed upon us. If we resisted when they came, it would go ill for all of us. There would be no way to hide that our child was coming. And so I resolved to leave and raise her in a foreign land far from the sheltering mud and the Hist who nourishes us."

I gave her an encouraging nod.

"I did not however plan to do this alone. My heart shattered when Okan-Ja declined to join me. He told me that I should leave immediately, so that word that we had been expecting would not spread beyond our community. I could not ask my father to come with me, and leave all our family behind. My mother had rejoined the Hist the previous spring. I packed what few things I had and left in the night, my nictitating membranes brushing away the tears."

"How did you make your way to Chorrol?"

"I swam out of the Rootlands and began to trade what I could. Plants collected along the way became my seed money, if you will. I walked, and gathered, and traded until I could buy passage on a caravan. County Chorrol seemed far enough yet still within a tolerable climate. By the time I got here my egg was ready, but I was in no position to nurture it. As happens with my kind under severe stress, I was able to carry my child within me longer, until her egg would have hatched in the shelter of a Hist tree. At that time, Dar-Ma was born."

Tears stung my eyes. "My friend, thank you for sharing your story with me. And Dar-Ma's story. You know that you both are dear to me. I find myself holding you closer in my heart for knowing."

Seed-Neeus gracefully inclined her head. "Perhaps the healer in you wonders about Dar-Ma."

"I do wonder. Thank you, Seed-Neeus. I wonder how you and she both fare so far from the Hist. Please excuse my intrusion if such a thing is not to be discussed with an outsider."

"I am certain that you have heard Hist sap is part of our upbringing. We are part of the Hist, and the Hist is within us. For Dar-Ma, there should have been a pilgrimage to Black Marsh so that she might partake from a tree. However that was not possible. Thankfully the Hist has provided a way for the people to remain one." She gestured to her chest. "We are able to produce a semblance of Hist sap to feed our hatchlings when needed. This allowed Dar-Ma to grow up Saxhleel, as so many of our brothers and sisters who are enslaved far from the Hist homeland do. Whether in Black Marsh, or Morrowind, or County Chorrol, we are one."

"I confess I do not fully understand, nor do I suppose I ever will. But you have shown me a glimpse of what it means to be you." I cleared my throat. "I should more accurately say you have shown me the magnitude of what I cannot understand."

Seed-Neeus drew her claws through the air in an agitated gesture. "There is more, Abiene. Always have I carried a measure of guilt for causing my daughter to grow up among smooth-skins in this rocky land, far from the nurturing mud. But as I have explained, she and I swim in the same river as our people, however far upstream. Now with this crisis, the Hist is calling the root people back to Black Marsh to defend her. The song burns in my blood. That is the sap. It troubles me to resist it, but I make my potions and teas to ease the call, as I am sure my fellows do."

By this I assumed she meant Teekeeus. I did not know any other Argonians in Chorrol. "Does Dar-Ma suffer? She seems her cheerful self to me. In fact she seems to rise to troubled hearts with her own special joy to share."

Seed-Neeus pulled her lips tight in the Saxhleel smile. "Yes, that is Dar-Ma's way. The call is not so strong for her, as she has not taken sap directly from a tree."

"A hidden blessing."

"And a hidden blessing, if you can even consider one, for those in bonds. Though with each generation, the connection becomes thinner." Seed-Neeus closed her beautiful orange eyes for a moment.

"They say that House Dres has abolished slavery," I said. "Though I find it hard to believe." While the Dunmer practiced slavery throughout Morrowind, the House Dres territories were truly an agrarian, slave society. It could not function in its current state without the free labor of its enslaved field workers. I doubted that they had changed so quickly.

Seed-Neeus raised her tea in an ironic toast. "May it be so, and may neither of us hold her breath waiting to hear the truth of it."

Our tea was cooling, and my free time was waning. I got to the point. "Those girls who came in with Ravenna, what do you know about them?"

"I suspect that you know more than I do. I have never seen either of them in Hackdirt. Though I confess, some of you humans look alike to me."

I leaned in. "Of course I would never ask you to be indiscreet about a customer, but what was so urgent that they walked for days through the rain to get? And with two of them pregnant?"

Seed-Neeus waved away my concerns. "I'm neither lawyer, priestess, nor healer. They had a list of things I had to send out for months ago. Fertility rituals, my left dewclaw. I've been sending their same order every spring for years. There are some things in this one I had to ask the Mages Guild what they were before I could figure out where to get them."

"Odd. What did Teekeeus make of it?"

"Oh, I did not disclose that the items were for the same customer. He is dedicated to his protocols. I do not wish to go on a watch list for ordering something that could be used to cavort with daedra."

"Hmm," I said, sipping my tea. "I have some things I'd like to send to them, but I can't use the Imperial post. They need birth control, so I'm going to make some packets of herbs and seeds for them. I don't expect payment, and I don't want them to have to deal with a shopkeeper. Or anyone else, for that matter. The girls confided that they would be in grave danger if their husband learned they were attempting to take control of their own bodies." The heat in my cheeks did not come from the fire. I'd like to give this Bertollo a piece of my mind.

Seed-Neeus placed her cup in its saucer. "That brings me to the proposal I have for you, my friend. As you heard, a bridge is out on the trail to Hackdirt. I had planned to send Dar-Ma with the wagon, but now she will have to go with our trade goods packed onto horses."

"Dar-Ma has taken over deliveries?" I tried to hide my surprise. It was hard to imagine the bubbly teenager sticking to a single task for more than ten minutes, much less two days.

"With the Hist calling ever more urgently, it has become impossible for me to travel." Seed-Neeus made a vague gesture. "Routines and familiar surroundings help me fight it. I cannot explain other than to simply say it is so."

"It's the same with chronic pain" I said. "One can cope better when one is not also managing other stressors. The way I explain it is with pebbles. At the beginning of the day, you have a handful of pebbles. Everything you do that drains you takes away at least one. You try not to run out too early in the day."

"Ah, I see that you do understand."

"How can I help you, my friend?"

"It seems that your package would be best delivered in person, by yourself. I propose that you travel to Hackdirt with Dar-Ma. You may ride the second horse. I would not charge you, of course. Your time and company for Dar-Ma would be a fair trade."

If I could say one thing about Seed-Neeus, she knew how to close a deal. "I'll do it! When do you plan for Dar-Ma to leave? I must secure time off from the chapel." And first I had to think of a way to convince Master Servillo. I had gotten permission for the Wayshrine trip by having one of the knights persuade her chapter head to ask for my care as a healer, from one servant of the Nine to another. Even though the trip had been canceled due to no fault of mine, I would not receive credit in any way. I hadn't actually been owed time off.

I struck my forehead for my foolishness. Here I sat before a master trader. In this case even she would not charge me if I asked her advice.

"Seed-Neeus, you know my situation. How would you suggest I approach Master Servillo for the time off?"

Seed-Neeus tapped her claws against her lower lip-ridge. "I suppose your original reason for travel no longer has merit?"

"No. Unfortunately the nature of the complaint would have called for alternate treatment when I did not arrive as planned. I'm willing to exaggerate, but not outright lie."

"You mentioned that you wish to help these young women with a health issue. Hackdirt has a chapel, but I suspect that the clergy there do not revere the Nine. Additionally I have never heard reference to a healer of any kind, nor have I delivered such supplies to the store as you have requested that I order for your private healer business. So here is your concern: You have reason to believe that a population of humans, some with child, are without a healer's care or the blessings of the Nine in these perilous times. As a representative of the Chapel of Stendarr…" Seed-Neeus dropped her chin and widened her eyes in a way that suggested the human lifting of eyebrows.

"I think I see where you're going with this. I'm merely a layman in my order, but I can make a case that this community needs evaluating as both a potential flock of worshipers and as an imperiled population of youngsters and women of child-bearing age. Perhaps there are some elders whose ailments could not be soothed by the products you supply to their shops?"

Seed-Neeus lifted her shoulders. "At that I would be guessing, as I have little knowledge of how your races age."

"Of course." I continued, thinking aloud. "The girls mentioned the refugee camp near Weynon Village. Perhaps I should also suggest that a check on the welfare of the refugees would be in order. Though… No, the Priory is close by. That would be an insult to the brothers there who live in service to Talos."

Seed-Neeus leaned back, curving her mouth corners. "I believe you have your argument."

"Seed-Neeus, you are a credit to Zenithar!"

She explained the details of our arrangement as I shamelessly enjoyed the cakes. Too soon, the chapel bells tolled the hour.

I jumped to my feet. "I must fly, it wouldn't do to be late returning on a day when I must make a case. Thank you for the tea, my friend, and as ever for the company!"

Seed-Neeus caught my hands at the door. "Abiene, if you do stop at the Priory, have care. Brother Piner met his end under mysterious circumstances. I would not have you risk your safety while seeking to help these girls."

"Nor while in the company of dear Dar-Ma." I squeezed her hands in return. "I will take special care not to bring her into danger."

[Acadian]

What a delightful conversation between Abiene and Seed-Neeus! Abiene (and I) learned a great deal about Argonian culture. Abiene’s internal dialogue and the whole conversation with her friend flowed both gently and naturally, finally addressing the situation in Hackdirt.

You set the stage carefully enough that Dar-Ma and Abiene delivering supplies to Hackdirt was the logical outcome.

Abiene on an adventure!

[SubRosa]

That was some fascinating world-building about Argonia, underscored by the poignant tale of Seed-Neeus' self-imposed exile from her home, in order to spare her child the fate of becoming an assassin.

I wonder if House Dres abolished slavery in the same way that the British did in Africa. They made slavery illegal. But they also made it illegal for Africans to own property or participate in government in any way. Instead they had to pay rent, and to do that they had to get a job working for a British company. In Cecil Rhodes' diamond mine Africans were paid around a 98 Pounds per week. They were also charged 104 Pounds or so for food, housing, and the like. So you instantly owed the company money, and that became worse the longer you were there. Of course it was also illegal to leave without paying your debt to the company.

But they were totally free. Because that's not slavery.

So, the Hackdirtians are buying some odd items, that might be used to cavort with Daedra? Methinks that cavorting like that during the Oblivion Crisis would be a bad look, to the say the least.

I love Seed-Neeus. The people of Hackdirt are clearly in need of spiritual support in these troubled times. Who better than Abs to deliver it?

So now the plot thickens. We who have read the Shadow Over Innsmouth of course know what it is in store for our protagonist when she gets there. I hope Abiene and Dar-Ma lock their doors at night!

[Kane]

I adore your deep dives into the lore we otherwise don't see a lot of without doing a bit of research. Abiene's conversation with Seed was really captivating!

[Burnt Sierra]

What a delightful conversation between Abiene and Seed-Neeus! Abiene (and I) learned a great deal about Argonian culture.

I couldn't agree more! A fascinating chat, with so much lore, detail and emotion in it, and the more times I read it, the more details popped out. Not only in the content of the conversation itself, but in the details around the conversation. You really have layered in a lot! I'll just quote a few, otherwise I'll just be quoting the entire post

I settled with my tea, keeping perfectly still in the Saxhleel way.

Seed-Neeus drew her claws through the air in an agitated gesture.

tapped her claws against her lower lip-ridge.

dropped her chin and widened her eyes in a way that suggested the human lifting of eyebrows.

Really nicely done, especially as all of those examples allow us to gain an insight into the character through the actions they're taking. And now, into the lion's den for both Dar-Ma and Abiene.

As always, thoroughly enjoying these updates and roll on Tuesday!

[ghastley]

Yes, burnt it right, it's the little details.

I swam out of the Rootlands

and

far upstream

. What she says, the way she acts while saying it, all mesh together.