Old Habits Die Hard, Can an old dog learn new tricks? Options

[D.Foxy]

Adolescent poundin (a pudding).

There. I filled in your....er...er...blank.

[mALX]

Still find myself riveted to the page on this one!

[Jacki Dice]

I just got caught up in your story and I love it so far! I like the choice of character. Normally I see ones that are pretty young and fit. I can see a lot of creativeness on how she gets through certain parts of the game coming up. Great job!

[mALX]

Adolescent poundin (a pudding).

There. I filled in your....er...er...blank.

Er...is that a chocolate pudding?

[D.Foxy]

No, m'dear.

'Tis the pudding sweet
which adolescent boy's meat
Ever, 'n ever wishes to meet
in a place discrete...

..and in tryst complete
he hopes to (censor delete)
an delicious reproductive feat
To know more - you, me Tweet!!!

[Destri Melarg]

This is one of my favorite chapters. From the description of the gate, to the depiction of the battle with the scamps, to Julian’s subtle ‘handling’ of Savlian Matius in the aftermath (do I detect a subtle dig at the malleability of men-folk in there?). Everything just works in this chapter.

I like how Julian questions whether the men that Savlian sent in can get out in the unlikely event that they succeed in closing the gate. It really underscores her decision to go in there herself.

*

Just a question, though: If the scamp’s screech is too high pitched to hear, how can it drown out the roaring of the gate?

[haute ecole rider]

@ SubRosa, mALX1, D.Foxy: thanks for the comments.

@ Jacki: Welcome to Julian's story! I'm glad you're liking this so far. You're not the only one to comment on Julian's age and condition. She is not the first "older" character I've written; as a matter of fact, most of my characters in other fiction are in their 30's and 40's. That doesn't mean I don't enjoy younger characters, like Teresa and Buffy, et. al - they are terrific stories because they are told well. I hope you continue to enjoy reading Julian's story - there's quite a bit to come yet!

@ Destri: I'm glad you liked this chapter, and the interaction between Julian and Matius. I wrote it more as an experienced NCO "handling" a green lieutenant more than a man-on-woman thing. But I'm glad you picked up on the subtlety of that conversation.

The first Gate is always a memorable one, like your first kiss, your first, well, you know. The first time I played the Kvatch Gate, I was a nervous wreck the whole time, and hours later, when I finally got out of there, I just felt drained. That feeling is what I've been able to give Julian when I wrote this chapter.

******************
Chapter 4.1 The Kvatch Gate

A moment of disorientation, a red flash, then I found myself in a totally strange environment. Red sky, red rocks, boiling red lava, even the wind was red. It felt like Morvayn’s smithy, only a thousand times more so. The heated air robbed me of breath. The Gate stood behind me, my link back to a normal world.

Down a rocky slope in front of me, I spotted the surcoat of a Kvatch guardsman as he battled a scamp, fending off fireballs with his shield. Locating one of the fireball throwers, I moved forward to lend the soldier my blade. The scamp spun toward me as I neared him, hissing as he slashed his clawed hand at my face. Swinging the edge of the shield, I hit him hard in the nose, sending him reeling back. I followed, ignoring the pain in my knee, and slid my sword into his bony chest. After sweeping the tip of the sword across the inside of his rib cage, I stepped back, withdrawing the blade. The soldier finished off his scamp, then we were clear. For the moment.

The soldier turned to me. “By the Nine, I thought I’d never see a friendly face again!” he panted, sheathing his sword. Doing the same with mine, I wiped the sweat off my face. “But who are you?”

“I’m Julian, from Anvil,” I answered. “Where are the others? Matius told me there were six.”

He shook his head, looking around at the hostile environment, swaying with exhaustion. “Ilend Vonius,” he responded. “They ambushed us,” he pointed toward a closed pair of tall metal gates. “They trapped us on that bridge, picked us off one by one.” He looked back at me. “I escaped, and have been fighting daedra since. I can’t find another way across, though.” Now his brown eyes sharpened on me. “Matius is still alive?”

“Yes,” I answered. “You’re the only one left alive?”

“I saw them taking Menien Goneld prisoner,” he winced. “They took him to that big tower,” he waved at the tall tower barely visible beyond the war gates. He looked me up and down thoughtfully. “I should go and report to Matius, but if he sent you here, maybe we should stick together . . .”

Don’t tempt me. You’re exhausted. You’re more of a liability than my knee is right now. “Matius needs you more on the barricades than I do here.” Again my words surprised me.

“Thanks!” Vonius responded. “I’ll see you again when the Gate is closed. Best of luck!” He ran to the portal and disappeared. I took a deep breath against my audacity. I would have liked his company.

********************
Only one door unlocked, I looked around the hall again. The great tower that Vonius had pointed out had been the most difficult part so far, with the constant roar of that pillar of fire running up the center of the keep, and the dremoras and daedra infesting the passages and side halls.

Only the amazing magicka founts and the blood wells had kept me going. Slinking along the walls, hugging the shadows, I had crept ever higher and higher. My feet hurt, my throat burned, and my knee threatened to down me for good. My right shoulder ached where a fireball had hit me - twice.

Three doors led off this side hall, but only one was unlocked in the outer wall. Cautiously, I opened the door and peered out. A narrow bridge, high above the ground, connected the main keep with one of the smaller towers I had noticed from outside.

Akatosh! That’s a damned long way down! Forcing my eyes up from the vertiginous drop, I looked across the bridge at the smaller tower. Maybe the key to those doors is in there. Having nowhere else to go at the moment, I crept across the spindly bridge. Akatosh, don’t let any of those creatures find me here!

Fortunately the door opening into the smaller tower was unlocked, and I escaped into the relatively cooler interior. This tower had no central pillar of fire, and was quieter as well. A ramp spiraled up its inner walls from below. A guttural voice sounded above, and another, this one human, responded in pain. Torture? Menien Goneld? I crept up the ramp, making sure of each step before putting my weight on it.

I saw a glass floor at the top of the spiraling ramp, a glass dome above it, showing nothing but red, red sky. Corpses dangled down the center of the keep, suspended by chains from the floor. Thunder from outside shook the stone of the tower and vibrated through the scorched soles of my feet.

Nearing the dome, I could make out a cage suspended just above the glass floor. A man crouched within, stripped to his undergarments with blood splattered on his bruised and fair skin. His voice was angry, despairing. A tall dremora spoke to him in an interrogatory tone. Slowing down at the top of the ramp, I held my shield and sword ready. Waiting until the dremora was facing away from me, I stepped onto the floor. In spite of my caution, the glass surface thrummed under my feet, and the dremora spun around. He immediately approached me, his posture threatening.

“You should not be here, mortal,” his voice had an odd inflection, like stones tumbling down a long mountainside. “Your blood is forfeit, your flesh mine!” His mace swung for my head, trailing clotted blood and gore. Stumbling to my right, I came up hard against the side of the dome. The horned head of the daedric weapon snagged the edge of my shield, wrenching it down and twisting my elbow.

Bent off balance by the weight of the mace, I brought my right arm over and sought the gap between the churl’s pauldron and cuirass. The tip of the blade slipped between the metal pieces and bit into something soft. Twisting my body to face the churl, now starting to recover from his swing, I reversed my grip on the hilt. Raising it, I pivoted it around the tip in the other’s shoulder, and drove the blade in a downward angle as far as it would go. It sank in half its length before the end struck something hard.

Slipping the shield straps onto my wrist, I seized the guard in both hands and twisted it in place, causing the blade to tear through flesh and sinew. The dremora screeched, the sound almost too high-pitched to hear. He turned into me, his right arm useless, and punched me to the floor with his left hand. I hung on grimly to the hilt of my sword, which slid out of the churl’s body.

Scrambling backwards across the glass floor, I managed to raise my sword at him. The top of my back, where his blow had landed, screamed with the effort. The churl stumbled toward me, his mace dropping from nerveless fingers, blood seeping out of his right armpit, and red foam appearing at his mouth. He fell forward, and his great bulk struck the cage and set it swinging wildly.

The prisoner inside shouted as the iron enclosure tossed him from side to side. Struggling to my feet, I managed to catch the thing and bring it to a stop, though it nearly threw me off my feet. Panting, I managed to sheath my sword as the injured man subsided into moaning.

“Menien Goneld?” I asked, scanning the frame for a way to open it. He became quiet, and I glanced at him to see his eyes steady on me.

“Did you get the key?” he asked, pain making his voice ragged.

“There is a key?” I asked. “I can’t get any higher in that big tower, I need a key.”

“He has the key!” Goneld pointed at the churl I had just killed. “He’s the sigil keeper. Take his key, get to the top of the main keep, and take the stone. It’s the stone that’s keeping the Gate open!”

Limping to the churl, I knelt stiffly beside him and searched his corpse. A ring of keys dangled from a loop on his armor, at his waist. Getting the ring off took a couple of tries, but I managed in spite of my shaking fingers. Returning to the cage, I looked at the keys. Let’s see if one of these unlocks the cage. I’ve got to get Goneld out of this!

The injured Imperial shook the cage violently, catching me in the face and causing me to drop the keys. His desperate gaze met mine.

“You do not have the time,” he rasped. “Leave me! Hurry!”

Staring at him, stunned, I realized he was right. I can’t leave him here in this place, but he’ll only slow me down. He knows it. I know it. I could see encroaching death in his face. Stepping back, I drew my sword and swept the blade into vertical before my face, in the salute accorded only to Legion officers. Courage showed in Goneld’s gaze as I picked up the keys and returned to the ramp.

This post has been edited by haute ecole rider: Apr 3 2010, 02:53 AM

[SubRosa]

The Kvatch Gate. That one always seemed the hardest, because you never know what to expect. You do a good job of keeping the story moving by skipping over every minute fight in the struggle. That would get boring quick. Instead you present us with the high points, and indicate what a long road it is has been for Julian to get even that far.

Good descriptions as well, of the redness everywhere, the heat, the roar of flame in the main tower, etc... You really transport us into this corner of Oblivion. It makes me glad I have the windows open!


nits:
glass floor.A man
I think a Daedra ate the space after your period above.

[Winter Wolf]

The way the man shook the cage at the end was perfect, a splash of water in the face that made Julian face up to the reality of the situation. I can just imagine the dawning look of horror on both their faces as they were forced to part. Awesome write!!

“You should not be here, mortal,” his voice had an odd inflection, like stones tumbling down a long mountainside.
Perfect use of description here. We all can relate to the sound of the churl.

[D.Foxy]

A man
I think a Daedra ate the space after your period above.




And I though humans were perverted...

[SubRosa]

A man
I think a Daedra ate the space after your period above.




And I though humans were perverted...

What, you have never earned your red wings? Poor fellow. The blood is the life my friend.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Apr 3 2010, 04:31 AM

[mALX]

GAAAAAK !!!


Great Write Hauty!

[Destri Melarg]

I always marvel at how swiftly Ilend Vonius bolts when you tell him it’s okay to leave. ‘Vapor trail’ doesn’t seem adequate to describe it.

And why, why, WHY didn’t the devs give us a way to save Menian? It seems a shame to sacrifice someone who has to be the bravest man in Tamriel.

[haute ecole rider]

@all: thanks for the ongoing support!

A warning about the upcoming chapter: Do not read this immediately before, during or immediately after meals, especially if you have a weak stomach for gore. I ought to get one of those surgeon general's warning labels for this one. Those of you who have read this before will remember why.

Chapter 4.2 Taking the Sigil Stone

Re-entering the central well of the keep, with its roaring, screeching pillar of fire, I nearly bumped into a scamp. He saw me before I could duck into the shadows. Too close to use his usual fireball spell, the creature leaped for me. His claws raked across my cuirass, tearing through the tough leather before I could raise my shield to bear.

Swinging the shield as hard as I could, I brought its edge down hard on the scamp’s arm before he could come back with another swipe. I felt the bone snap, and the daedra screamed, reeling back. Raising my right leg, I shoved my heel into his belly. The scamp staggered back, then flipped over the low iron railing that lined the spiral ramp.

The thin stone vibrated under my feet, and I looked up to see a dremora charging at me, his mace raised high. Managing to duck under his swing, I hobbled around to swing the iron blade outward across the unprotected back of his knees. Buckling to one side, he somehow brought the mace back and clipped my left hip. Pain exploded out of the old wound, and I spun away, to nearly meet the same fate as that scamp. Only by grabbing one of the clawed struts with my shield hand did I keep myself from going over that railing.

“Damn you, keister!” I shouted at the top of my lungs. My panic and terror tore out in a string of curses that would have turned my old pilus prior’s hair as white as my own. Feeling the heat build up in my right hand, I threw the sword at the dremora as he limped towards me. He batted the blade away and moved to give me the fatal blow. He was so close, I couldn’t miss his face with the fireball if I wanted to, and I didn’t.

The flames melted the red flesh off his head as he reeled back. Pulling myself forward off the railing, I half ran, half stumbled toward my sword, laying beside the door through which I had entered. Skidding to my knees and bracing my left arm against the wall, I grabbed the hilt and whipped it around at the dremora. He was kneeling, screaming that odd, almost soundless screech that temporarily blocked out all other noise, his hands still over his face. I limped up to him, and taking the hilt in both hands, swung the sword at his neck with all my remaining strength.

The sturdy iron blade smashed into his neck and bit into his spine, then jammed. The force of the blow knocked his bulk over to his left, dragging the sword, and me, with him. His sheer mass forced me onto my right knee, sending even more daggers of pain shooting into my thigh. Cacat!

Sitting on my right hip, I twisted the sword loose from the neck bones and set it down close to hand. Reaching into my belt pouch, I fumbled out the last vial of healing potion. Leaning back onto my right elbow, I looked up the central well of the keep, my eyes tracing that pillar of fire. Still a long ways to go. Yet there was no walking on this bum knee right now. Uncorking the little bottle, I choked down the vile liquid.

Waiting for the full effect of the potion, which wouldn’t be enough to fully counteract these injuries, I hoped it would at least let me function again. Picking up the sword, I crawled over to the dead churl. A quick search of his gear netted me a couple of lockpicks, some septims, and a piece of amber.

“Honey, run down to Felen, see if he has that order of daedra heart for me.” My mother’s voice snaked through my memory. “I’m getting low on the Fire of Life potions.”

Gingerly putting some weight on my knee, I fell back down to the floor. Ach, damn. Fumbling at the churl’s cuirass, I struggled to lift the heavy plate off of his chest. Settling for pushing it to the side, I drew my dagger. With the hilt in my right hand, and my left hand over the pommel, I drove it into the breastbone with as much of my weight as I could bear behind it. My left palm stung with the impact, but I felt a satisfying crack! as the sternum split into two.

Feeling it give under my fingers, I wrestled the knife out and used it to slice the flesh over the broken bone. Then I shoved the tip of the dagger back into the fracture, picked up the sword, and jammed the the iron blade next to the knife. The longer weapon gave me the leverage I needed to wedge the rib cage apart. Leaning my right hand on the sword kept the incision open. I picked up the dagger, which had fallen away, and reached into the chest cavity with the blade cupped in my left palm.

Using my fingers on either side of the small weapon, I located the heart, then the great vessels coming off of it. The dagger made short work of them. Then I peeled the heart out of its membranous sac, and pulled it from the chest cavity. The rib cage snapped shut with a thud when I withdrew the sword.

The heavy organ dripped clotted blood as I cradled it in my lap. Using the dagger, I sliced the muscular walls into thin sections, much like slicing a sweet bell pepper as my mother used to do. Closing my eyes, I popped one of the sections into my mouth and started chewing.

Almost immediately, I started gagging. Gods, this is awful! The meat was tough, gristly, and foul tasting. Part of the metallic taste was from the blood still coating the heart, but the meat itself was almost as vile. But the pain in my knee drove me to continue chewing. Finally I choked it down, fighting the increasing urge to vomit.

Waiting for a few moments, I regarded the remaining sections. Do I have to eat the whole thing? Wishing for my mortar and pestle, I took another piece and chewed it into submission. Fortunately, the pain subsided enough after it that I could stand up. Wrapping the remaining pieces of the heart into parchment, I slid the whole gory mess into my belt pouch and picked up my weapons. Sheathing the dagger, I limped up the ramp towards the top.

*******************
I reached the blood well with some relief. Extending my shaking right hand into its red fountain, I felt the healing surge through me. My strength restored, the pain in my left hip, right shoulder, and right knee damped down to more tolerable levels.

Limping to the double doorways that led into the central chamber, I realized I had finally reached my goal. Through the red dome that formed the floor of the immense room, the sigil fire punched upwards to something that hovered at its tip. That something glowed, throwing off sparks and red lightning bolts, and howling with the barely audible sound of tortured souls. The sigil stone!

Two ramps, formed of bloodstained talons, rose on either side of the chamber, meeting at a mezzanine that ringed the room. Another balcony, this a round one, jutted out above it, at the level of the sigil stone.

Assessing the room, noting the long sightlines from one side to the other, I sheathed my sword. A little archery would be good here. Tightening the string on my bow, I made it ready. Notching one of the steel-tipped arrows to the string, I moved to the ramp on my right. Slowly, feeling my way up the ramp step by step, I climbed until I could just see above the edge of the ring balcony.

Two more ramps, these made of a leathery material, connected the mezzanine with the round platform above. Two scamps patrolled the circular floor, dwarfed by the immense scale of the chamber. Neither seemed aware of my presence as I paused to watch their movements. Their patrol seemed confined to the base of the leather ramps, across the room from me.

Picking the scamp on the right to be the first, I sighted on him with the bow. I raised my aim point quite a few degrees above his head to allow for the greater distance and the slightly upward angle of my trajectory. He paused in his patrolling, and I loosed the arrow. Pulling another shaft out of my quiver, I watched the scamp stagger and turn in my direction. By the time he started forming his fireball, the second missile was already winging its way across the chamber into his abdomen.

The second scamp had moved behind the ramp, out of my sight. Limping quickly onto the balcony, I continued widdershins around the room, hugging the wall. He appeared past the base of the far ramp, pacing back towards his partner. He stopped at the sight of the corpse, and started scanning the chamber. Arrow already nocked to my string, I aimed and loosed it in a smooth movement. The bodkin tip slammed through the scamp’s bony chest, the shaft disappearing until only the fletching could be visible. The scamp stared down at the missile, then turned his face in my direction before falling backwards.

Drawing my sword, I hobbled to the first scamp. Dead as the Deadlands. Moving to the second, I found him in similar condition. Crouching at the base of the ramp, I looked up at the sigil stone. A shadow moved on the platform just past it. It seemed bigger. Dremora. Cacat! Those beings were more than I could handle. I had been lucky so far, but I knew I wasn’t strong enough for those oversized war machines.

Working my way up the ramp, crouching to keep my silhouette low, I nocked another arrow to the bow. The dremora was pacing restlessly from one side of the sigil platform to the other. He’s missing his minions. He stopped at the far side of the platform from me. Take him. Now.

In a smooth motion, I sighted on him. Calm came over me as my arms steadied, and my aim settled on that small space at the back of his left knee, where the armored greaves left a gap as large as my hand. Letting the arrow fly, I nocked a second arrow before checking to see if the first had flown true. The churl staggered as the bodkin point stabbed through his knee, felling him to a half-kneeling stance. He spun around, trying to stagger back to his feet, and my second arrow thunked home in his side. He went down instead of up, and stayed down. Drawing my sword as a precaution, I approached him cautiously, but the churl was dead.

Turning to the sigil fire, I walked up to it, to the very edge of the platform. The heat of the fire scorched my face and left hand as I reached for the stone. Taking a lung-searing breath, I cupped my fingers around the round thing and pulled it out of the fire. The stone pulsated in my hand, a high-pitched screeching emanating from it, yet it was comfortably warm to the touch. The unexpected sensations nearly caused me to drop it. I pulled it instead to my chest, behind my shield.

Fire exploded outward, flames swirling first red and orange, then turning through yellow to blinding white. The platform shifted beneath my feet, and I dropped into a crouch. Abruptly I could no longer feel solid ground under my soles.

[mALX]

Bleah! I didn't heed the warning, and should have remembered it, lol. HUGE details on this one, I love it in spite of my queasy stomach!

[Olen]

Nice update, I like the description of the Gate closing. It got the feel of it without taking too long and slowing things down.

I'm a little confused as to what she did with the dremora to get it's heart out though. I'd have thought it would be easier to attack the ribs where they join the sternum or even go up under the ribcage (they say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach) than going to the effort of breaking the sternum and prizing the ribcage open.

It was well done though, not too many details so I could fill in enough myself , and of course opening a ribcage is that bit nastier.

Nice piece.

This post has been edited by Olen: Apr 5 2010, 09:30 PM

[SubRosa]

I think this might be the first time we have seen this patented Julian move?
I hobbled around to swing the iron blade outward across the unprotected back of his knees.

This was an excellent way to seamlessly weave a description of your main character into the action:
that would have turned my old pilus prior’s hair as white as my own.

This is also an excellent way to show how Julian knows that she can use Daedra heart for alchemical healing:
“Honey, run down to Felen, see if he has that order of daedra heart for me.” My mother’s voice snaked through my memory. “I’m getting low on the Fire of Life potions.”
It also reminds me of hunting rituals, where a first time hunter eats the heart of their first kill, or at least has their blood smeared over their face.

The Witch in me loves this:
I continued widdershins around the room
It is not often I hear the word widdershins outside of Witchcraft!


Olen: I cannot speak for after someone is dead, but for open heart surgery the ribcage is cut in half right down the sternum to get at the heart. My brother had quintuple bypass surgery nearly two years ago, it has taken nearly this long for his sternum to heal again.

[haute ecole rider]

@ Olen:

Going up through the diaphragm (from the abdominal cavity) would make it more difficult to get the heart out in one piece. You're going in blind, and it would be easy to cut your fingers!

Doing necropsies (animal autopsies) back in vet school, we were taught to cut through the ribs parallel to the breastbone using bolt cutters (one of the most useful tools in the veterinarian's repertoire) and break the ribs back to expose the heart. That allows us to get it out intact. Of course, Julian doesn't carry bolt cutters with her!

Bashing the ribs next to the sternum would be okay, but time consuming. You've got to break at least five or six of them to fit a small hand through (the ribs are close together at the breastbone). It's also easier to cut your hands on the ends of the ribs when you reach in to get the heart out (shades of Indiana Jones!). Cracking the sternum lengthwise, however, would get all of those ribs out of your way, and you can use the sword blade to leverage the opening wider.

I suppose for the purposes of Alchemy, one doesn't need the heart whole, but it's easier to get it out whole, then cut it up into neat pieces for transporting (or chewing, as she did).

Gory enough?

[D.Foxy]

Me see it before and me see it again
And second time around is better, by ten!!!


eees alll goooood!!!

[Winter Wolf]

The heavy organ dripped clotted blood as I cradled it in my lap. Using the dagger, I sliced the muscular walls into thin sections, much like slicing a sweet bell pepper as my mother used to do. Closing my eyes, I popped one of the sections into my mouth and started chewing.

Apart from the stories about Paint (which you already know I love more than anything else!!) this sentence was the one part over at Beth that blew me away. The way that you showed that Julian was not scared to get her hands dirty and would do what ever needed to be done spoke volumes about her.
Without a shadow of a doubt she is our girl to close shut the jaws of Oblivion.
Look out Mr Dagon!!