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

[Grits]

SubRosa: Thank you so much for the advice, SubRosa! I cleaned up those sections and just removed the archer flashback. It was too much of an interruption, and I’m much happier without it.

Your comment about Abiene and the horse had me spitting out my tea and holding on to the table. Eventually people will learn to stop asking me why I’m laughing so hard. Abiene wants back in the story, and she’s pushing me!

When I thought of Jerric and Nerussa the first word that came to mind was outclassed, so I went with it. She is a bit relentless and demanding (Did you find the wine yet? Keep looking for that wine!), so she must be pretty special to get results. Teresa’s Nerussa has thoroughly eclipsed the game Nerussa in my mind, so I am glad that you approve!

haute ecole rider: I’m so happy that you’re reading! Thank you so much for your kind words, they mean so much to me!

The Weye kids started out as part of Jerric’s version of stone soup: do you have a gaffing hook, may I borrow a cart, how about those kids to push it. Then they took over. I think Cyrodiil must be knee deep in youngsters to keep up with the death rate.

May I approach you as an authority on equestrian matters: Flash is the product of distant memories of a Shetland pony and searching lots of phrases such as “can a horse climb stairs.” If you see me put his hooves too far out of line, may I ask you to correct me? He is at risk of becoming a big dog wearing a pack saddle in my hands.

Thank you haute ecole rider, I’m glad you’re enjoying Jerric’s adventures!

Acadian: Aelwin gets me every time with that, and he still wants twelve dang fish. Jerric in the game has not finished Go Fish yet, it’s a beast for an Atronach sign with no Marksmanship and low Alteration. I have a new plan, though. I just really don’t want him to drown.

I’m glad you enjoyed Jerric’s request – he made it very clear what he was not going to ask the Altmeri goddess of passionate seductiveness to do for him!

Thank you for your encouragement on the revised flashback. A learning experience for Grits!!



Chapter 6: Going Home, Part 3

Jerric hefted the fish into the hand cart and stood back with a sigh. “All right lads, that’s the last one. I’ll follow you shortly.” He watched the parade of village children heading away from him. “Say, why weren’t you in school all day?” he called after them. He was counting the days, but only by number.

“It’s Loredas!” chorused the girls, and their laughter rang back to him as they disappeared over the hill. His life was ordered for him by the caravan schedule, and he seldom thought ahead past when he next had to report for duty. Now that he had delivered the Amulet he was immensely enjoying his freedom. Aelwin had described him as an adventurer, so he decided that for a few more days that’s what he would be.

He stood and looked out over the lake, listening to the gulls cry far above him. There was a sea eagle hunting in the fading light, and he watched until it plummeted to the water and winged away with a fish. Small shore birds ran along the edge of the gentle waves, and he wondered what they were scooping up in their long bills. The White Gold Tower shone over it all with the setting sun’s orange light.

Jerric returned to Weye with his sword on his hip and his drawers in his hand. He could hear the music all the way from Aelwin’s house. It seemed that the village had decided that the day of a dozen slaughterfish should be celebrated not just with a party but with a festival. Colorful ribbons fluttered in the evening breeze from stakes planted all along the road. He followed them to the center of town where strings of bright paper lanterns hung over the open square, and torches burned in brackets on all of the buildings. Someone had painted a banner depicting a massive slaughterfish with a sword sticking out of it. Many folk had food and handiwork for sale, and Nerussa poured ale and wine from a table at the side of the festivities. Everyone brought their own drinking vessel, so only a few speedy lads and lasses were needed to run back and forth to the inn with supplies.

A group of red-cheeked women served Rumare slaughterfish to the appreciative crowd for free. They grilled the fish with a spicy sauce and wrapped it in thin flatbread to be eaten out of the hand. The young Breton woman he noticed earlier walked up while he was getting his serving. “I’m Jerric,” he said. He handed her his fish roll and got another.

“I know. I’m Anette.”

“Pleased to meet you, Anette.” They walked a short distance and stood to eat their meal, like the rest of the village.

“I’m so glad they liked your idea,” said Anette. She licked the tips of her fingers. “All of the slaughterfish we catch goes to market. It’s so expensive, no one in Weye can afford to eat it.”

“I didn’t know that. No wonder everyone’s in such a good mood.” Jerric watched her lick sauce from her thumb, and his mind began to wander.

“Plus we haven’t had a party since forever. This summer was so boring. I had to work almost every day. My mother never lets me do anything.” Anette rolled her eyes.

Jerric had a distressing thought. “Say, Anette, uh … how old are you?”

“Fifteen. My birthday was in Second Seed. Why? How old did you think I was?” Anette tipped her head to the side and looked up at him with a smile.

“Um …” Jerric struggled to find an explanation that didn’t sound condescending or include a reference to her bust. “It’s just that you’re so mature. I thought you were at least eighteen.” Then add three years, he thought. He mentally adjusted his plans for the evening.

“Ugh. Here comes my mother now.” Anette rolled her eyes again. “Ever since my father left, she never lets me out of her sight.”

Jerric thought that Anette’s mother was no fool. She appraised him openly as she approached, and her smile let him know that he had missed an opportunity. She shared her daughter’s prominent attributes, only hers were no doubt accessible. Jerric smiled back and inwardly kicked himself.

“I’m Dionne Lavois. Anette’s mother.” Jerric waited for her to extend her hand, and then he took it carefully in his.

“I’m Jerric. Pleased to meet you.”

“I know.” Her eyes laughed at him. “Is this your first visit to Weye?”

“It is. I’ve been to the Imperial City before, but I crossed the lake from the docks at Fort Virtue. I met Aelwin on the road last night, and now here we are. This is a pretty big town square for a fishing village.”

“Weye is also a market town. Wholesalers come from the Imperial City and buy goods directly, then they sell to the city merchants. That way folk don’t have to spend the time getting their wares all the way to the Market District. Some still make the trip to get a better price, but this square fills up every Tirdas and Fredas with those who don’t. Plus there’s the local market. You missed it this morning, you were at the lake.”

Anette rolled her eyes and snorted, looking pointedly away from Dionne. “May I get you something to drink?” Jerric asked Dionne.

“Wine would be nice, thank you. Yes, you may, Anette. Just one.”

“If you have some goblets, I’ll go get us a bottle,” he said.

Dionne nodded to her daughter. “Go ahead, Anette.”

Anette didn’t go two paces before she was arm in arm with another girl. Jerric didn’t need to guess what they were talking about. He joined the line at Nerussa’s table, but the villagers cheerfully pushed him to the front. Nerussa herself stood there, looking as poised and polished outdoors in the lantern light as she had inside the inn. “Ah, our adventuring fisherman. May I interest you in some ale, or perhaps a bit of wine?” Her voice sent a delightful shiver through him.

“A bottle of wine, if you please. I don’t know what kind, you pick.”

“Hmm. I noticed you were chatting with Dionne. May I suggest Tamika’s West Weald Wine. It’s special enough for a celebration, but not so rare that one need stop at a single bottle. I think it will be well received.” Jerric nodded and she opened it for him.

“Thank you, Nerussa.” The smile she gave him in return could mean anything or nothing. He decided that if the goal of her mysterious air was to make him think about her, she had succeeded.

Anette had brought the goblets by the time he returned with the wine, so he poured for them. “New friends,” he offered, and they drank a toast. The wine was smooth on his tongue, and he thought he could taste vanilla and blackberries. He decided that Tamika’s West Weald was a name he should remember.

“I saw Rullus casting frost spells at you earlier,” said Dionne. “I thought he had lost his mind. What was that about?”

“I can’t regenerate my magicka, so I asked him to do it. Target practice for him, all the magicka I can absorb for me. Only I didn’t absorb all of them. Frost is best for that, it doesn’t hurt me as much when it hits me.”

“You’re lucky a Legion Rider didn’t see you. He might have gotten the wrong idea.”

“One did,” Jerric said ruefully, “but we got it straightened out.”

The three of them wandered through the crowd, and they stopped to watch a puppet show. One puppet was wearing only a short pair of white pants. “I’m going to duel the fish with my sword!” it said in a deep voice. It brandished a puppet-sized weapon.

“You won’t need that one,” squeaked the other puppet. “Just go in the lake and you’ll scare the fish to death!”

“Let’s go watch the jugglers,” said Jerric.

The music changed with a flourish, and the square quickly cleared. “Let’s go!” cried Anette, and he barely had enough time to hand Dionne his goblet before she dragged him off into the dancers. Despite Anette’s efforts and whether Dionne was watching or not, he made sure they stayed away from the dark corners. When the festival ended Jerric was ready to say goodnight to the Lavois women. It had been a long day under the lake, and he was still sore from Rullus’ frost spells.

He saw Aelwin leaving the square and jogged to catch up with him. “Your fish were popular tonight, Aelwin.”

“Jerric, I’m surprised to see you trailing along behind an old man. Where’s your little lady?”

Jerric laughed. “I’m nearly twice her age, you dirty … fellow.”

“I’m nearly twice her mother’s age, but it wouldn’t stop me if I had a chance with her!” Aelwin cackled. “I guess she just wore you out with the dancing.”

“That she did, and I guess wine makes me tired. You Weye folk are a peaceful bunch. Not too many bottles broken, and no fights at all.”

“There’s enough work to go around in Weye. It’s idle hands that turn to brawling. Well, here we are. Only one day since you stood on this spot and listened to my troubles, and you looked as heavy-eyed then as you do now. Good night, lad. You’ll come in for breakfast, and I’ll have your reward for you.”

“Will do, Aelwin. Good night.” Jerric stretched out on the straw and fell asleep listening to Flash pass an impressive amount of wind, he guessed from his own long day in Aelwin’s clover.

___

Jerric woke the next morning with Aelwin’s finger poking into his arm and a mug of kahve under his nose. It was still dark, and Aelwin had hung a lantern from an overhead beam. Jerric shoved himself upright and sipped the bitter brew, blinking at Aelwin. Aelwin plopped down on a bale and heaved his bad leg into place. The Breton was likeable but eccentric, and Jerric wondered what he would do next. Aelwin put his hand in his pocket and looked at Jerric.

Jerric took another sip, then sucked in some air to cool his tongue. “How does the day greet you, Aelwin?” he asked groggily. “What’s it going to be today, twelve golden mudcrabs? A dozen unicorn horns?” He scratched some straw out of his hair.

Aelwin’s round, weathered face spilt into creases with his smile. “Let it never be said that there are no kind souls in this world. You were a stranger, but now I count you as a friend. You have my thanks for your help, but there is something more.” He pulled his hand out of his pocket and passed a ring to Jerric. “This ring is for you. It served me well all these years, but I have no use for it any more. I imagine it would be very valuable to someone like you.”

Jerric looked at the ring resting on his palm. It was a silver band with blue and gray stones smoothly set in a wave pattern all around it. It could be gray for water and blue for sky, or the other way around. “Thank you,” he said sincerely. He looked at Aelwin for more explanation.

“It’s the Jewel of the Rumare. It allows its wearer to breathe water and move more easily. You’ve shown me kindness, and I will think of you often in the long, comfortable days ahead.”

Jerric held the mug between his knees and slipped the ring onto his finger. He felt its magicka wash through him, and he took an experimental breath. Apparently it would not interfere with breathing air, so he decided to wear it. “Aelwin, thank you for this. You’re right, it is very valuable to me. But I have to ask, did you think it might have been helpful for me to have this yesterday when I was at the bottom of the lake?” Jerric took another sip of kahve, and hissed again. It was still extremely hot.

Aelwin cackled. “That I did, but by then you had the Lavois ladies hanging on your arms. The Rumare Slaughterfish Festival will be an annual event in Weye, once they all agree if it should be held on Heartfire the eighth or the nearest Loredas. I hope you’ll come back and visit us! You can sleep in the cottage next time, now that I know you’re not after my retirement savings. Now come inside, and I’ll make you breakfast.”

Jerric looked out the open door and saw no light in the sky. Retired or not, fishermen were disgustingly early risers. He waited for Aelwin to move before he flailed out of his bedroll and onto his feet. “Let me cook it for us, Aelwin, I’ll be there in two shakes.” If the kahve was any indication of Aelwin’s skills, Jerric imagined that he could produce a meal that was at the same time raw and burned beyond recognition.

“Shake it over the wall, lad, your horse has already drowned my garden.” Aelwin cackled again and hobbled out, leaving the lantern for Jerric.

This post has been edited by Grits: Jan 17 2011, 06:23 PM

[SubRosa]

Having trouble with Go Fish? I have found several ways to deal with those pesky slaughterfish while suffering minimal harm. Most of them are based on a trick I learned a while back while fighting with a claymore, but it works with most all weapons and even touch spells. The idea is to stay in the sweet spot where the enemy is in range of your weapon, but you are not in the range of theirs. Since they will naturally advance to hit you, you have to keep backpedaling to stay out of their reach. With a shorter range weapon what you have to do is move in quickly, strike, and then back up fast. It takes timing and practice, but once you have it down, you will hardly ever be hit in melee combat (this is how you can play a melee glass cannon in fact).

I would love to see more Abiene, including a fic just her own like the Saturalia short that you did. Reading about her makes my little girlie heart go pitter-patter in that way usually only Jane Austen can do.

The Nerussa in the TF is pretty special, just ask Teresa! She is demanding as well, but Teresa is quite happy to provide for her needs.

Now, to today's episode.

I loved your description of evening on the shores of Lake Rumare and the fish festival in the village. It really makes the setting come to life. Your inclusion of the children is especially nice. It is so strange not seeing them, or real families, in the game (have you noticed that almost no one seems to have a mother or father in the game? and they only have a brother or sister if it is quest-related.)

He decided that if the goal of her mysterious air was to make him think about her, she had succeeded.
Yep, that is our Nerussa!

Jerric stretched out on the straw and fell asleep listening to Flash pass an impressive amount of wind
Ewwww!

“What’s it going to be today, twelve golden mudcrabs? A dozen unicorn horns?”
That is what it seems like to me too!

You’re right, it is very valuable to me.
Could it perhaps be... precious?

All in all a very fun episode. With this and the last episode, I think you are really hitting your stride with your writing of Jerric. He feels much more alive and well-rounded now. I get the impression that you know him better now, so you can convey his Jerricness better.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Jan 17 2011, 06:54 PM

[haute ecole rider]

Of course you can ask me anything equine related (or canine, or feline . . .)! Just shoot me a PM!

On to this latest installment - I loved the festival air you gave Weye. Also making this little hamlet on the way to the capital a market town makes great sense. It's nicer than the Waterfront, and feels friendlier for being a waypoint on the road.

I see SubRosa has already noticed the same thing about Flash that I did! Oh, boy, does that bring back memories! Of course, cattle are worse!

And yes, Jerric is really coming alive, thinking like a typical male ("how old are you? darn! oh, your mom's more my speed - and available too. darn, again!"). You've got that down pretty pat, imho.

[mALX]

Her low-pitched voice made him think of firelight on velvet.

Great line !!! Jerric's character is a masterpiece - I bragged about it to a writer on the un-named forum last night! Great Write!

This post has been edited by mALX: Jan 17 2011, 08:42 PM

[Acadian]

I will readily agree that you are really hitting your stride! Reading this is quite soothing and beautiful, like Tamika's wine.

'He stood and looked out over the lake, listening to the gulls cry far above him. There was a sea eagle hunting in the fading light, and he watched until it plummeted to the water and winged away with a fish. Small shore birds ran along the edge of the gentle waves, and he wondered what they were scooping up in their long bills. The White Gold Tower shone over it all with the setting sun’s orange light.'
Your care and talent in crafting this rich description really shows.

"May I suggest Tamika’s West Weald Wine. It’s special enough for a celebration, but not so rare that one need stop at a single bottle. I think it will be well received.” Jerric nodded and she opened it for him.'
It is wonderful to see Nerussa's reputation as a wine enthusiast in action. It is easy to overlook amidst her other talents.

“I can’t regenerate my magicka, so I asked him to do it. Target practice for him, all the magicka I can absorb for me.
Another wonderfully clever reminder of Jerric's masochistic birthsign - somehow, it really suits him!

[Grits]

SubRosa: Thank you for the strategy, we’re going to take another crack at it today. It is good melee practice for a new character, since he can just get out of the water. I’m going to let him take a nap between fish this time, since he’s taking so much damage and the whole Atronach thing. I’m still looking for that sweet spot! Also I may have been too ambitious bumping up the difficulty slider.

You made me swoon with the Abiene comment. I’m wondering how I could work her story in with Jerric’s without having it be too choppy. Weye was a great little break, Jerric could just be himself without anyone dying at his feet and demanding world-saving. Although he can’t seem to get away from strange men giving him jewelry.

haute ecole rider: Thank you! When I pictured Flash in the clover, I knew what had to happen next. I’m glad Jerric’s character came across before things get hectic for him. It’s been fun to rediscover Cyrodiil with this story, now I like Weye even more than Aleswell.

mALX: Thank you, mALX! You’re making me blush!!

Acadian: Thank you, Acadian! I have a tendency to take a break for the scenery with Jerric, which is not something my girlie game characters have ever done. I think he needs a beach house!!



Chapter 6: Going Home, Part 4

Jerric stopped on the Gold Road and looked at the ancient stone steps ascending off to the side into the forest. “What do you suppose is up there?” he asked Flash. “I didn’t get to look when I passed with the caravan. I don’t know when I’ll get another chance. Even if Rothmund hasn’t fired me, I doubt he’ll approve a side trip when I’m working.”

The steps were wide and shallow. Jerric thought for a moment. “I wonder if you could make it up there. I bet you could.” He checked to make sure the halter rope was secure over the pack saddle in a way that wouldn’t fall loose but still gave Flash his head. “I’m going up. If you want, you can come with me.” He went up about halfway and stopped, looking back at Flash. “I think I’ll have an apple.” He got one out of his day pack and took a bite. Flash’s ears perked forward. “Now that is delicious. First harvest of the year, I bet. Not like those wrinkled ones we got from the Priory.” He bit off a chunk and held it out toward Flash. He didn’t want to lead him up the stairs, he wanted him to come up on his own. “Look at that, see how juicy? Did you ever have a little filly flip her tail at you before they… you know. Well this apple is sweeter.” He felt his face grow hot and shook his head. “Pathetic, I can’t even lie to a horse. Anyway, Flash, I’m going up.”

He walked the rest of the way up the stairs. “This is as far as I can go without you,” he said as he went. “I trust you of course, it’s every other fetcher on the road I’m worried about.” When he got to the top and turned around, Flash gave a snort and came up after him. “Go Flash! That wasn’t even hard. I bet they made these stairs for horses. Here you go, see I wasn’t kidding. That is a good apple.” The two of them proceeded up the path, crunching the apple as they went. “If we see any buildings, I’m going to ask you to wait. A Nord and a horse are not going to sneak up on anything.”

After a few minutes he did see the tall white arches of an Ayleid ruin, so he got Flash turned around on the path and dropped his lead. He walked forward with his shield on his arm, watching his footing. There was a lot of forest debris on the stone path, and he didn’t want to step on a stick. As he approached the ruin he saw that the stones formed a large ring made of wedge shapes. A stone staircase to nowhere still stood in the middle, and he guessed that he would find the entrance to any underground chambers there.

When he approached the entrance his eyes picked out the shape and color of steel-blue entoloma mushrooms growing all around it, and he made a little hiss of delight. As soon as he bent to pick the first cap, he heard the distinctive sound of a targeted fire spell attack. He ducked and rolled, and the flare roasted his mushrooms. “Dammit!” He popped up, looking for his attacker.

A scamp stood at the edge of the stone ring, readying another fireball. Jerric hadn’t heard a conjurer so he focused on the scamp. “All right, let’s go!” He bent his knees and got ready to dodge. As much as he hated fire, he hadn’t sparred in so long it was making him twitchy. The ground was clear around the stones, and he could always wait for the scamp to come to him if he got tired of jumping over them. The scamp threw the fire, and Jerric sidestepped. “Ha ha!” He heard another flare behind him and turned in time to catch it full on his chest. The magicka surged through him as he absorbed the spell, and that helped him keep his good mood. “You sneaky fetcher!” he laughed. As he ran to the outer ring where he could see both scamps he started to wonder what they were doing out here. He decided that only a fool would use them as lookouts, so if anything they must be guards. In that case he could go ahead and have some fun.

He worked up a sweat dodging fireballs until the scamps ran out of magicka and ran at him. That was when he saw a third scamp, and suddenly the game became serious. He summoned his skeleton. “Go, Slim!” He pointed at the nearer scamps and jogged toward the third one, ducking its fire attack. Slim didn’t kill his scamp, but he damaged it enough to slow it down. Jerric had time to open the third scamp’s gut before the next one reached him. He took his time with it, testing his reach with Chillrend’s short blade. He was pleased to find that the frost effect caused little noise or recoil in his hand.

It wasn’t long before he was kneeling with the knife from his day pack peeling off their skin for Sigrid to use in her Mages’ Bane poison. The resident alchemist at the Kvatch Mages Guild had been his instructor for several years, and he knew that a bag of dried skin would go farther than a dozen roses to gain her favor. Not that he had a chance with her, but Jerric thought that a person should have some goals in their life.

He checked to see if the entrance underground was passable for the sake of his curiosity. There was no way he was going in there today. The door was clean and solid, and he decided that there must be something down there that the scamps had been guarding. He decided to hurry up and pick his mushrooms in case anyone came up to check on the scamps.

Jerric jogged back to Flash and secured the halter rope around the saddle again. “That was fun, thanks for waiting.” He got out a carrot for them to share as they walked back down to the road. “I’ll carry the scamp skin, you probably won’t like the smell. I guess I smell bad enough already.”

___

Jerric dropped Flash off in Tilmo’s capable hands at the Grateful Pass Stables and took the West Gate into Skingrad. He approached the gate guard for some information. “Greetings, Nord. Something I can help you with?” asked the guard.

“Are you much of a chapel-goer, sir?” Jerric asked.

The guard began a speech about the splendor of the Great Chapel, the wisdom of Julianos, and Jerric didn’t know what else because he thanked the man and went over to the other guard.

“Yes?” the other guard said. There seemed to be a hint of amusement in his tone.

“A brothel,” said Jerric.

“The Painted Posy,” said the guard, “Chapelside, can’t miss it.”

Now Jerric knew where not to go. “Are they Guild?”

“No. That is to say, I don’t know.” said the guard.

“It’s for my boss,” Jerric lied, “he’s an Imperial, very picky. Big coin purse, lots of rules. Has to be a Guild establishment.” He hoped that his flush would be interpreted as embarrassment instead of dissembling.

“Oh, well in that case take him to The Colovian Rose. Of course I don’t know myself being a married man, but I hear that Servilla the Serpent is something else.”

He thanked the man and headed to the Mages Guild to clean up and drop off his gear. The clouds had been rolling in all afternoon, and as he entered the front hall it began to rain. His eyes went immediately to the large yellow tile medallion set into the center hall’s wooden floor. It reminded him how little schooling he had in the arcane arts. Two long benches faced each other on either side of the double staircase, he guessed for the unimportant to use while they waited for their betters. The heavy tapestries hanging on the stone walls contributed to the dour atmosphere.

Jerric walked through the hall and looked into the open rooms on either side. A balding Nord loitered at the long counter to his right. He was richly dressed in a gold trimmed black velvet tunic and velvet leggings. “Hail, Vigge,” Jerric said. “Any room in the common quarters? I’m just passing through.”

“Well met, Associate. It’s been quiet for weeks, you’ll have your choice of beds. The common quarters are on the third floor, around the corner to the right.”

“Great. Who should I talk to about trading alchemy supplies?”

“There’s no alchemist here, you’ll have to go to All Things Alchemical. It’s right around the corner here in Hightown. If you’ll be back for dinner, you should let Cook know.”

“I’ll be out, I have some other business. I’ve had some adventures on the road.”

Vigge didn’t seem to care about adventures. “Well, you could sure use a wash. Bathing chamber is down by the kitchen. Let me know if you need someone to heat the water.”

“All right Vigge, thanks.” Jerric made his way to the second floor, where he almost bumped into an Argonian standing beside the tall bookshelves. She was wearing an easily identifiable blue robe. “Excuse me, Apprentice,” he said politely.

“What? Who are you? Oh... who cares. I'm Druja. You want something? Or you just practicing your Cyrodilic?"

“I’m Jerric. I’m an Associate. I’ll be in the common quarters, just for tonight.”

“Good for you.” Druja’s scaly cheeks were pulled downward in displeasure.

Jerric didn’t know how to reply to that, so he proceeded through the library. He found Adrienne Berene reading at a table next to the stairs, gowned formally in blue velvet. She looked up irritably as he passed. “I trust you have good reason for interrupting me?" Jerric simply shook his head and walked by. This did not seem to be the time to remind her that they had met on his last visit to Skingrad.

He ran up the stairs to the common quarters and found it as empty as Vigge had promised. The diamond shaped panes of glass in the tall windows and thick rugs covering the floor reminded him of home. He liked the way the doors were made to rise up to a point at the top like an onion. The wooden ceilings soared all the way to the peaked roof line, and he expected that the room would be chilly in the winter. He chose a bed with a large cupboard and a table nearby so he could take care of some chores. Then he picked out his best shirt and headed down to the bathing chamber, trying to walk more softly this time.

He found himself in a medium sized stone room with a drain in the floor. A shaving stand stood along the wall next to an empty table with a low stool in front of it. The shelves on the wall were loaded with clean towels, soaps, and unlabeled glass bottles. He opened one and sniffed it experimentally. It smelled like flowers, so he left it alone. He found no tub, but one wall housed a mysterious apparatus. Jerric dropped his things on the table and stuck his head into the kitchen. “Hail the Cook! Are you in here?”

Cook turned out to be a short, irascible Imperial man of middle age. “Don’t tell me, your mother never taught you how to bathe.”

“Well…” Jerric was tempted to put him through a wall for the comment, but in this case it was somewhat true. “I can’t figure out the contraption.”

“Follow me. Look, here is the handle. Open it, and water comes out. See that, it’s metal. Put your fire spell on it, and the water will be hot. If it’s too hot, open this handle and cold will mix in. This is soap. You use it to get the stink off your body. Those are towels. You get the idea. If you blow anything up, Adrienne will kill you. Ask Vigge if you want help. I’m sure he’ll wash your back for you.” Cook stomped off, and Jerric eyed the mechanism with mistrust.

He followed Cook’s instructions and found that being showered with a steady stream of hot water was far superior to the Odiil’s bucket method. He made quick but thorough use of the soap, and when he shook the water out of his eyes he found he had company. “Vigge! Something I can help you with?” Vigge seemed overdressed for a bathing chamber, and Jerric hoped he would stay that way.

“You figured it out! Not everyone can. Just seeing how you were doing.”

“Thanks, I got it.” He stood there dripping. “Uh, hand me a towel, will you?” After an uneasy shave, Jerric left Vigge’s company and headed back to the kitchen.

Cook looked up irritably. “What now, do I need to teach you how to use the pot?”

“No thanks. What’s your name? I’m Jerric.”

“My name is Cook. I’m the cook, get it? Adrienne keeps firing us, so they just call us Cook now. Did I ask for your name? No. You’re a pain in my sack, so I’ll just call you Pain. Have a nice day, Pain.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to call me Sack?” The Imperial gave a short bark of laughter, and Jerric took his leave. He thought of the warm welcome he had received when he studied in Anvil, and of all the hardworking, friendly mages in Kvatch. He decided he was lucky he had been able to study Destruction so far at his home chapter instead of coming to Skingrad.

This post has been edited by Grits: Jan 19 2011, 06:11 PM

[SubRosa]

Although he can’t seem to get away from strange men giving him jewelry.
Maybe we should start calling him the midnight cowboy?

I loved the entire part of Jerric coaxing Flash up the steps with the apple!

A Nord and a horse are not going to sneak up on anything.
As Clint Eastwood said: "A man's got to know his limitations."

Slim the Skeleton. A great name to go with Flash the horse!

a bag of dried skin would go farther than a dozen roses to gain her favor
Ewwww! Somehow I doubt Buffy has to worry about her being alone with Savlian after all!

Servilla the Serpent
Hawt!

Just an idea to throw out, in ancient Rome sex with a prostitute was not adultery, it was a simple business transaction. Likewise with a slave. The main reason probably being that a child from such a union could not be a possible heir. But the other being that sex was not seen negatively in society or religion. Rather it was a simple given that people wanted to have sex. Given that Cyrodiil has had a prostitute's guild for a long time, it might not be too much of a stretch for the same to apply (I plan to use this for the TF).

I’m sure he’ll wash your back for you
Yep, that's Vigge!

A delightful description of the Skingrad Mages Guild, not only physically, but of the colorful, and unfriendly characters there. Not to mention one that is a little too friendly. I cannot wait until Jerric meets Falanu Hlaalu! I bet she will like his pale Nordic skin.

[haute ecole rider]

Enjoyed this chapter a great deal.

I suppose that Ayleid ruin is Ceyatatar? Flash is like most horses - he'll do anything for a juicy, crunchy apple! Just one thing that jumped out at me. "Ground tying" is more an euphemism than anything else - it consists merely of dropping the rein or lead on the ground. Horses (especially working cow horses) can be trained to stand in place with a dropped rein. They are actually not physically tied to anything. I avoid the term because it can be confusing for many non-horse people, and just mention dropping the rein (or lead, in Flash's case). Just something I wanted to point out to you. Maybe you know what it really means, but I'm sure most of our readers don't.

It's surprising how close your depiction of Vigge the Cautious came to mine. I just finished writing the Skingrad chapter and there is a bit about their sleeping habits.

Scamp skin for Sigrid? That's my kind of girl! I don't go for roses, either! Sounds like Jerric really knows how to woo a woman!

[Acadian]

Great fun to see Flash climb the steps. Animals steal the show, don't they?

“Ha ha!” He heard another flare behind him and turned in time to catch it full on his chest. The magicka surged through him as he absorbed the spell,
Gosh, that Atronach birthsign sooo fits Jerric! Being big and not so sneaky, he is quite the target so it works perfectly for him! What a fun and exciting little fight scene! Nice little touches of harvesting steel blue entoloma and scamp skin.

I smiled all the way through your entire depiction of the Skingrad guild. Wonderful detail you lavish on the guild and its denizens. Buffy was taken aback when she met Druja as well - about the first cranky Argonian she had ever met!

[Zalphon]

I like how the dialogue doesn't feel forced at all. It feels like two people are actually talking

[Jacki Dice]

A Nord and a horse are not going to sneak up on anything.

That gave me the image of a Nord and a horse entering a china shop...

I love the detailed descriptions of the mages guild. I could easily picture it myself.

[D.Foxy]

HOW IN FREAKING HELL HAVE EYE MISSED THIS UNTIL NOW???!!!

Oh, the writing! The style! The Humour!

The opportunities for DHERTEE IN YO END-0!!!

But now that I have cum into this thread (somebody break out the tissues) rest boat sured that I shall be following - er - stalking this!!!

[Grits]

SubRosa: Ewwww! Somehow I doubt Buffy has to worry about her being alone with Savlian after all!
No matter how velvet-clad, platinum blonde, and busty, an alchemist is likely to have her pockets full of things that are revolting!

Thank you for sharing your thoughts about sexual mores in Cyrodiil. The game gives us everything from Sanguine worshippers to Alessia Ottus, and it’s fun to see how different people take it in their own directions.

Thank you, SubRosa! Falanu is up next. Joe Buck and the necrophiliac.

haute ecole rider: I suppose that Ayleid ruin is Ceyatatar? Indeed, but Jerric doesn’t know the name yet.

Thank you very much for the advice about the ground tying/lead dropping – I changed the wording. It never crossed my mind that people would think he was tying the lead to the ground, but that’s exactly how it sounded.

I think anyone who has awakened with Vigge the Creepy in their bed or standing over them will relate! I am too baffled by the nocturnal activities at the Skingrad Mages Guild to even try to explain them. I can’t wait to hear what Julian thinks of that bunch!

Acadian: Flash has been such unexpected fun! I’m learning more about the Atronach birthsign with more game time, and the biggest thing is how much time he has to spend doing alchemy. Thank you for your kind words!

Zalphon: Thank you for your comment! Dialog is my favorite part.

Jacki Dice: Thank you!
That gave me the image of a Nord and a horse entering a china shop...
I wonder if they have tea cups in Skyrim.

D. Foxy: Welcome, Foxy! Or should I say wellcu-, no I’ll leave that for you! It’s great to have you here, despite the extra cleanup!


Chapter 6: Going Home, Part 5

Jerric jogged through the streets of Skingrad in the rain. He loved the way they ran up and down with big rocks jutting out of the ground. The buildings were orderly and fine, but the land was wild underneath. The rain turned all of the stone to dark gray, and he felt as if he was winding through twilit canyons. Little rivers of rainwater ran down the steep streets, adding to the effect. There were few people out in the rain, so he could look around as he went instead of minding where he put his feet and elbows. He made his trades on the market street, and then he hurried to his last errand before the shops all closed.

He entered All Things Alchemical and flipped back his hood, shaking off water. A female Dunmer stood smiling behind the counter. Jerric didn't know much about fashion, but he could tell that her gown was expensive. Her short, red-gold hair framed her face nicely, and she had the ruby eyes and delicate features of her race. He noted the curve of her lips, and his appreciative gaze dropped lower.

“Greetings, Nord," she purred, and Jerric pulled his eyes back to her face. She reached over the counter. "Give me your hands." Puzzled, Jerric complied. Her hands were small and warm on his. "Pale as the snow and cold as the grave," she murmured, as if to herself.

Jerric pulled back far too quickly to be considered polite. The hair on his arms stood at attention, and his sensitive parts were in full retreat. He had to firmly squelch the urge to flee. "It's raining," he gulped in explanation. “I’m Jerric.”

"I'm Falanu. House Hllaalu. As if that matters here," she said pleasantly.

He took the plant that Valus had given him out of his bag. “Do you know what this plant is?”

"I don’t know. Never seen that sort of root before. Head over to the West Weald Inn and talk to Sinderion. He’s a botanist. He could identify it for you I'm sure."

“Thanks,” he said, and he put his bag on the counter. “I need water hyacinth nectar, stinkhorn caps, and lichor. I have some things to trade, I might be able to take all you’ve got.”

They completed their transaction, but Falanu seemed to want him to linger. “I'm the only alchemist in Skingrad,” she told him. “Not much business here, but I can't go back to Morrowind. It's just like anywhere else in the Empire. By the way... do you happen to know what the fine is here in Cyrodiil for necrophilia? Just asking."

She had her hands on him again, and his mind was filled with broken glass. “Huh...what?”

“Oh, nothing. I was just wondering.”

Jerric escaped the shop and weighed his coin purse with satisfaction. Falanu must have liked him. He was sure he could buy a round or two at the West Weald Inn and still afford a few of his favorite things at The Colovian Rose. He decided to grab a quick meal at the inn, proceed to The Rose, then time permitting stop back at the inn to make some new friends before crashing into bed at the Mages Guild.

His musings had carried him to the inn, and he hung his dripping cloak by the door. The silk-clad publican greeted him right away. “Welcome to the West Weald Inn. I'm Erina Jeranus, the proprietor. If you'd like food or a bed, speak to me.”

“I would like a meal please, and wine while I wait. Tamika’s West Weald.” She gave him a look that made him pat his hair and check to see if his shirt was sticking through his fly. He wondered if Erina disapproved of all of her customers, or if he was somehow special. “Is there a Sinderion here? I’d like to talk to him."

Erina nodded toward a door. “In the basement.” Jerric decided not to knock, he just opened the door and went down the stairs.

He found himself in a large, candle-lit room containing neatly organized storage for the inn as well as living quarters and a work area. An Altmer male stood in the middle of the space, dressed plainly and holding a vial in his hand. Jerric looked in amazement at the long, well-equipped tables. “Falanu said she was the only alchemist in Skingrad,” he said in surprise, completely forgetting his manners.

The Altmer laughed. “I am well known as a botanist, and I do not compete with Falanu. If I can avoid that young lady’s attention, I will consider myself fortunate,” he said.

Jerric folded his hands respectfully. “Apologies. I’m Jerric. I have a plant to show you.”

Sinderion folded his hands in return. “I am Sinderion. Botanist, as you know, and alchemist, as you have surmised. I conduct my research here. Plants, specifically their alchemical properties.”

Jerric got out the plant sample. “A farmer had one of these growing in a bowl. It made a strange noise, so faint you almost couldn’t hear it.” He handed over the plant.

Sinderion’s face wore a gleeful smile. “Nirnroot! What a nice sample. What do you know about this plant?”

“Nothing. I was hoping you could tell me about it.”

That seemed to be the answer Sinderion was looking for, and he settled into an instructive manner. “A few years ago an adventurer not unlike yourself sold me a musty old tome containing alchemical formulas. Most of them were worthless, but one page contained a recipe for the Elixir of Exploration, a sort of ultimate dungeon delver’s potion. The formula looks sound, but it contains an extremely rare ingredient. You guessed it, Nirnroot!” He patted the wilted plant. “I have so many delicate experiments going on, I can’t possibly go out plant hunting. I had to put the recipe aside. But now that you’re here, that changes everything! Since you know what to look for, you could collect some for me. Do you feel up to a little expedition?”

“I have to get back to work, but I’ll keep an eye out for it in my travels. I’ve never seen it before, where should I look?”

“I wrote a short missive about it for the Imperial Alchemy Symposium. If you’re interested…” Sinderion retrieved a folded parchment and handed it to Jerric. “The best place for you to look is Shadeleaf Copse, in the Great Forest northeast of here. Do you have a map? Here, I’ll mark it for you. You’ll find it always grows near water. If you find ten samples of at least this size, I should be able to brew a weak version of the Elixir. I would give one to you for your trouble, and of course I would make the rest available at a huge discount.”

“What about growing it as a crop? Do you think that would work?”

“What an interesting idea. I suppose… you would need to give it plenty of water. I do hope you’ll bring any that you find to me, so that I might determine if the recipe even works. Then I could advise you if Nirnroot is suitable for agriculture.”

Jerric felt completely at ease talking to Sinderion. He couldn’t tell if it was his delight over the Nirnroot or just a jovial nature, but the Altmer was a welcome friendly face. He decided he would keep Nirnroot in the back of his mind. “I need to send word to my friend who found this sample. Do you have a sheet of parchment I could buy?”

Sinderion reached into a pile and handed one to Jerric. “With my compliments, in the hope of a long and fruitful association.”

Back upstairs in the inn Jerric fetched his wine and found a table where he could work while he waited for his meal. He carefully wrote out his message to Valus, then he handed it over to Erina with a coin for its postage. He settled in to read.

The Book of Daedra told about the different Daedric princes and their realms, a subject he had not thought much about until recently. The inn was filling up with patrons, but the seat opposite him remained empty. He held the book at arm's length, trying to catch the light and still focus on the writing.

"Is this seat taken?" asked a female voice, high-pitched and flirty. A young Imperial woman with wavy brown hair and blue eyes stood smiling at him with a wine goblet in her hand. She looked as round and soft as a fresh dinner roll. Local girl, he thought. Old enough to know better and young enough not to care, his Ma would say. Jerric gestured to the chair, and she seated herself with a bounce and a giggle over her shoulder. A cluster of what looked to be her friends had their heads together over a nearby table, and Jerric suspected he had become the object of a dare. "I'm Antistia," she said. She pointed to his forehead. "Where did you get that scar?"

Jerric closed the book and leaned back in his chair. I got it on my face, he thought. How long before my food is ready? He glanced over at Erina, but her attention was elsewhere. "I'm Jerric," he said politely, but he ignored the question.

“You look like a fighter,” she observed brightly. “How many people have you killed?” Jerric was dressed for a night on the town, and his shirt still had its buttons. He wondered how she had drawn that conclusion. Then he remembered what his nose looked like.

"Just the ones who needed it.” He thought that this promised to be a boring conversation, so he consoled himself by staring at her chest. “Tell me something about you, Antistia."

She didn’t have anything to say, but that didn’t stop her from talking throughout his meal. The West Weald Inn was full of nicely dressed, well spoken people, and Jerric began to feel like a marauder in merchant’s clothing. It made him itch to punch someone in the face, which of course would only prove that Antistia and her friends had been right about him. After dinner he rose abruptly and left without a proper farewell.

It rained the whole way to The Colovian Rose, but when he got there Jerric found a warm welcome. Everything he saw was something that he liked, and his smile started to hurt his face. “You’re new in town, aren’t you,” his hostess asked. “Have you heard of Servilla? Of course, she’s famous. You’re lucky tonight, if you like she can see you right away.”

He decided to find out what made Servilla famous, and she did see him right away.

Before he returned to the Mages Guild, Jerric stopped back at the West Weald Inn and found it darker, smokier, and louder than before. He picked up his bottle from Erina, and she still did not look happy to see him. When he turned to survey the room he was surprised to hear someone calling his name.

“Jerric! Over here!” It was Maglir. Jerric found there was plenty of room at his table.

“Maglir, that was fast. I thought you were going to ride it out in Chorrol.”

“Didn’t last long, that damned Oreyn had his eye on me.”

“I don’t know him.”

“He’s the Fighters Guild Champion, you’d think he’d have better things to do than pick on an Associate.”

“Well anyway, you’re here now. You must have passed me on the road.”

“The road! I’m a Bosmer. I went through the Reserve.”

“How long did it take you?”

“Oh, four days if I remember. I would have done some hunting, but it rained the whole way.”

“How did you find your way?”

“Kept going downhill. Have you never been in the Imperial Reserve? It’s not hard, unless you’re too much of a city boy.”

“I’m used to the roads, but I’ve always wondered what was out there. Are you good with a map?”

“Does a spriggan squat in the woods?”

“I’m guessing that’s a yes.” Jerric took out his map and the small box with his ink block and brush. “Here, mark what you know.”

Maglir placed some landmarks on Jerric’s map. “I know this route along the base of the mountains well. This part is a big valley. Look, you can’t miss these ruins. Stay away from Hackdirt, that place is bad news. Here, I’ll mark it. You’ll know it by all of the burned buildings.”

“Thanks, Maglir. I hope I get to see it all someday. Say, I found an Ayleid ruin here. Do you know the name of it?”

“Because I’m a mer, I must know the name of every Ayleid pile of rocks?”

“Uh...”

“Well, I do know that one. That’s Ceyatatar. Are you drinking wine? Aren’t you afraid you’ll lose your Nord credentials?”

“Well, we’re in Skingrad. Here, have some if your cup is empty.” Jerric had run out of conversation. He shifted in his chair.

Maglir filled his goblet. “What happened to you, sit on a minotaur horn?”

“Servilla the Serpent.”

“Oh ho! You got her special?” Jerric nodded uncomfortably. “I bet you were surprised.”

“Yeah, I was surprised. I should have asked for the details first. Still, ‘The Serpent,’ I’m sure I’m not the first to guess wrong about that.”

“Hey, that reminds me of a joke,” said Maglir, and Jerric didn’t need to provide any more conversation. When the time came he was happy to tip the rest of the bottle into Maglir’s goblet and head back out into the rain.

This post has been edited by Grits: Jan 22 2011, 07:50 PM

[ureniashtram]

Caught up! And I must say;

Servilla the Serpent? Does that mean she has a one eyed-snake or what?

Loved how you potray Maglir! The descriptions are so good in the West Weals Inn, its almost like you can actually see the interior of that fine establishment! Eagerly waiting for the next update!

[haute ecole rider]

OMG! That scene with the Imperial girl in the West Weald was wonderful, especially when Jerric guessed she was there on a dare!

Servillia the Serpent? Sore butt? Somehow my mind's going in a direction involving whips, cuffs, chains . . . No, stop it right now, girl!

The encounter with Falanu was also very well done. Sinderion's comment about her ties the two together very well in an absolutely delicious way!

[SubRosa]

"Pale as the snow and cold as the grave,"
Hawt!

She had her hands on him again, and his mind was filled with broken glass.
A lovely metaphor!

I got it on my face, he thought.
I love this! Too bad Jerric didn't say that!

so he consoled himself by staring at her chest.
Yep, Jerric is male alright!

“Does a spriggan squat in the woods?”
This is a lovely setting-friendly phrase. Remind me to steal it!

Sounds like Servilla had a serpent up her skirt! No wonder Jerric has a sore bum! Very nice to see a trans character. One does not see them too often in ES fan fiction.


nits:
I’d like to talk to him.
”
Looks like a space got thrown into the end of this line, between your period and quotation mark.

An Almer male stood in the middle of the space
Some thief stole the "t" in Sinderion's race!

[Acadian]

I heartily agree with the wonderfully clever lines that have already been quoted. I also continue to really enjoy Jerric's take on Cyrodiil.

I quite like Sinderion, and was pleased to see that Jerric liked him for the same reasons! That Jerric pondered growing nirnroot as a crop is testimony that he is no dumb Nord.

Antistia was a neat little interlude and fun to read:
'He thought that this promised to be a boring conversation, so he consoled himself by staring at her chest.'
'She didn’t have anything to say, but that didn’t stop her from talking throughout his meal.'

[mALX]

My instant reaction to Servilla's serpent was exactly what SubRosa said - (which, by the way ... reminds me of an experience my character in Fallout: New Vegas had last week with a robot called "Fisto" - nuff said, lol). Great Chapter !!!

[Jacki Dice]

Oh... Servilla the serpent... Makes me wonder is it a garden snake or a boa constrictor? Poor Jerric. I bet he was surprised!

[Thomas Kaira]

Grr! Procrastinating!

I've got some catching up to do...