Old Habits Die Hard Part Three, The old dog practices new habits Options

[mALX]

I love this quest! Can't wait to see the rest!!!

[Acadian]

Fun and variety!

They had the scruffy appearance of bandits, but I wanted to be sure.

Ah, the dilemma of not quite being sure of a stranger's intentions at a distance. See, this is what Buffy admires so much about Julian. She has the courage and skills to confront threats head on.

I cast Carandial’s cleansing spell on myself to remove the blood.

If I didn't mention it when Carandial introduced this spell back in Bravil, let me say now how clever I think it is.

“You stay here,” I whispered to Paint. He blinked a round brown eye at me before he dropped his head and rubbed his nose on the inside of his foreleg. He shook his head, the motion traveling down his neck into his body, until even his legs shuddered. Then he blew at me. I smiled at his antics and turned west, finding a path that wound uphill among boulders and twisted trees.

Ah, I am feverishly taking notes as I read a passage like this - crafted by the grand mistress of horses herself. *where is that darn twirl emoticon?*

I could make you eat your own fingers. Or fall in love with a cloud.

This piece of dialogue in game is absolutely among my very favorites.

Something tells me Julian will not be terribly impressed with the task Sheo has in mind.

[SubRosa]

Hmm, now I am wondering if Julian will meet Wrothken at some time in the near future...

Watching those samurai films is certainly paying off with your combat descriptions. Too bad you do not watch more romance movies, Julian's love life might improve...

He doesn’t like the bugs. Not even with mead.
Some people just have no taste!

Lots of fun a the mad god's shrine. But then Sheogorath is the most fun of all the daedra, to be certain. I am looking forward to seeing Julian, who is such a straight-man, starring in Sheo's comedy.


nits:
the bridge across the Niben River and the ruins of the old Fort on the opposite bank
In this context, fort is not a proper noun (as it would be in the case of Fort Meade), so it ought to be lowercase. Has it ever struck you as odd that Bethesda uses the term 'fort' rather than 'castle' or 'keep'?

[Olen]

That quest is by far my favourite, brilliantly funny and well put together. I can't imagine Julian appriciating the bizarre humour and sillyness though... or to feel great about what happens.

14.2:
A good rounding off to events in Bravil and the suggestion that she feels annoyed by her moment of weakness but not hung up (or hugely surprised) by it. I do wonder if putting it all down to the headache will prove wise though.

I held my left hand out for the quill

So she's a lefty. Nice little detail though I don't recall any comment on her fighting on the left...

14.3
As I said Sheogorath is a fluffy bunny of a Daedra... and the dialogue is excellent. I can't wait until she has a shot with the reward either.

It was of a sharply-dressed dandy,

I'd never thought of him that way... nice description.

Nit:
I think I may have mentioned it in which case ignore but kilometer struck me as lore unfriendly because it is linked to the size of the Earth and has modern connotations. Also miles are mentioned in game here and there, but if you prefer metric then I suppose it's about time fantasy worlds started using a saner system.

[Winter Wolf]

I am still here, reading along, and enjoying this amazing tale more than ever!!

Julian and Sheogorath, I cannot wait. Lucky it is flaming wolves and not flaming Argonians, otherwise the soldier in Julian would jump to their defense and things could get nasty indeed. Lol.

The way you have written Marz over the last few chapters was awesome. The wisdom and the prescience that you have given her goes perfectly with our little Bravil. Sometimes the most interesting people can be found in the most incongruous places. Bravo!

[haute ecole rider]

@treydog: For a long time I wondered how Julian would find Sheo’s shrine - after all, there is no one in the game that tells you where to find it. I hate the game compass that shows landmarks as you pass them by, even though they’re not visible. Julian isn’t psychic! Then during one of my playthroughs, Gwinas’s comment just turned on the light bulb, and I knew that’s how! I went back and added a sentence about why Julian went to check out those scruffy folks on the bridge to Fort Redman.

@hazmick: Yes, you must have dealt with OSHA in the past! I agree that the worshippers are nuttier than most folks in the SI. Go figure.

@mALX: I’m glad you love this quest! Personally, as someone whose job is to take care of animals, this is one of my least favorites. The senseless killing of rats, sheep and dogs just don’t sit well with me. Julian doesn’t like it either, as you’ll see.

@Acadian: I think I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again - Paint carries the spirit of my beloved old mare, who passed away last year in March. She had a ton of personality, and often would do little things such as I have described Paint doing, one of which is the tendency to shake herself at appropriate (or inappropriate?) points in a conversation!

@SageRose: It’s funny you should make that comment about romances. Most of what I write are romances - just in the guise of espionage, science fiction, fantasy and historical genres! I love the romance in Robert Ludlum’s novels, and in some of the Korean sageuk I’ve been watching lately. As for Julian, right now she’s too focused on her job to think about romance! Don't worry, it'll come and smack her on the back of the head one of these days.

@Olen: Sheo a fluffy bunny of a Daedric Lord? I don’t think so! TBH I much prefer Azura.

@Winter Wolf: I am delighted that you enjoyed Julian’s stay in Bravil and getting to know Marz.

I know many of you are hoping Julian will tell Sheogorath off. However, both she and I know all too well the futility of reasoning with insanity, especially that of Daedric Lords. So, sorry.

*******************
Chapter 14.4 Sheogorath’s Reward

S’thasa set the rarebit platter in front of me. I sniffed at the aromatic cheese and glanced askance at her. “The house specialty,” she bragged. “My yellow sheep’s cheese is the best in all of Cyrodiil, and Elsweyr, too!”

Cautiously, I tasted the rich dish. The bread was fresh and nutty, complementing the hint of ale and the mustard I could taste in the savory cheese sauce. My empty belly ceased its complaining at the first bite. “Hmm!” I couldn’t help myself. The Khajiit innkeeper smiled, her fangs gleaming in the soft lamplight of the common room.

“We have a fine collection of cheeses herre,” she purred. “It’s been a hobby of mine for yearrs. I've collected cheeses from all over Tamrriel, including the rrare Olrroy cheese!”

“Olroy?” I repeated. “Is it special?”

S’thasa drew herself up, indignant at my uncivilized ignorance. “A morre pungent cheese you'll neverr find. It looks smooth, but it stinks to the heavens and beyond! I keep it locked away tight.” She gestured toward the display cases near the entrance. I had noticed them when I first entered the Border Watch inn. “If I were to trry cooking with it, the smell alone would drraw rrats for miles! It's a lovely converrsation piece, though."

Something clicked in my mind. Rats. They carry bloodlung, bone break fever, and quite a few others. Plague of Vermin, maybe? I recalled Ri’bassa’s words. “It has been told from our fathers, and our fathers’ fathers, that our time in this place will come to an end. My great-great-great-grandfather, K’sharra, foretold of a time when the gods would send us three signs to signal the end of the world.” Ri’bassa had mentioned the Plague of Vermin, in which the town would be overrun by disease carrying beasts. “Rats, I imagine. Filthy creatures. I always keep a few packets of powerful poison around just in case.”

I had to figure out how to attract rats, and how to kill the sheep. I hated the thought of killing the innocent beasts just to please a Daedric Lord. Better than blood sacrifice of man, mer or tailed beast-kin. Though I knew many folks considered Argonians and Khajiit to be less than humans or merkind, I had fought too many of them, and alongside them, to think them less intelligent than myself.

The rats might be too easy. The Olroy cheese would attract them, as S’thasa had said, once I put it in the communal pot just outside the inn. “The second sign,” Ri’bassa’s voice echoed in my mind again, “is the Plague of Famine. All our livestock will fall dead in their fields. But we only have the six sheep, and we take very good care of them.” But how to kill the sheep? Would Ri’bassa leave poison out for the rats? Would any remaining poison be sufficient to kill all six sheep at once? Would such poison leave any tell tale signs? How to get the poison into each of these creatures at the same time? Do I even have to kill the sheep?

I spent the rest of the day sitting in S’thasa’s inn, drinking her strong tea, trying to think of ways to bring on the second sign without killing the sheep. As the night grew late, I rented a room from the innkeeper and retired for the night. I did not sleep, however, but sat on the bed, listening to S’thasa move around as she closed up for the night. Finally the inn fell silent as the female Khajiit went to bed.

Slipping my leather boots off, I crept out of my room into the foyer. First I set the boots down silently next to the door, then I moved to the display cases. One held three different cheeses, and the other, only one. The first case was unlocked, and when I opened it, the mingled aromas were pleasant, not stinky as S’thasa had described.

The second case was locked. I pulled out one of my lockpicks and stroked the lock, counting the tumblers. Five! This has to be the prize. It took me several minutes, and three broken lockpicks, to raise those tricky tumblers and release the lock. Any remaining doubt that this was the rare Olroy cheese disappeared as I swung the case open. The fetid aroma smacked me in the face with the force of a zombie slap. I cringed to touch it with my bare fingers, and dug into my cuirass for a field dressing, something I had begun carrying with me since my trial at Fort Grief. Tearing off a strip of linen, I folded it on itself, and covered the cheese with it before picking it up.

I carried it out the door, my leather boots in my other hand, and dropped it into the fire. The now foul-smelling linen strip was tossed into the fire and I replaced my boots. As the cheese bubbled and melted, the odor wafted on the cool night air, pervading everywhere. I stifled a cough and began breathing through my mouth. Gripping the pot handle, I took it off the fire and set it on the cobblestones of the terrace. Then I withdrew into the night. The terrace wall provided a good place to sit and watch.

Chirrups and squeaks alerted me to the arrival of the small brown rodents. A dark shadow swarmed up the central stairs that bisected the small community, broke apart into rats that headed for the fire. They gathered around the pot, squeaking as they devoured the cheese that had drawn them. Amazed at the sheer numbers, I remained frozen in place. The odor of the cheese dissipated in the soft night breeze that sighed down from the ridge above the village.

Light flickered in the window one of the small houses near the bottom of the stairs. It spilled across the cobblestones as the door opened and closed. Ri’bassa’s black-robed form dashed up the stairs, wading into the mass of rodents. He placed several packets he carried in his arms around the upper terrace, hissing angrily at the rats whenever they brushed against him. He stepped back and watched.

Remaining where I sat unseen, I also watched as the rats, their appetites stimulated by the melting cheese, turned onto the packets and tore them open, devouring the powder within. Within minutes, silence settled over the community as the rats succumbed swiftly to their fatal meal. When the entire swarm lay dead, Ri’bassa turned from the cooking fire and returned to his home.

When his house was dark again, I rose and returned to the cooking fire. By its light, I picked out the few remaining packets that had not been devoured by the rodents. The remaining poison gathered, I turned for the sheepfold to the south.

The pale forms rested around the enclosure, barely visible in the shadows beneath the night sky. Their eyes reflected the faint moonlight as they watched me approach the manger in the center. I pulled some fodder from the nearby hay bale, placing it into the wooden trough. Then I sprinkled the powder over the top of the fragrant stems.

As I left the sheepfold, I glanced back to see the six creatures float slowly toward the manger. I latched the gate, and leaned my arms on the top bar to watch them. They picked at the hay, each woolen beast nibbling at a few stems, before they meandered away. Did they ingest enough of the poison? They didn’t seem to care much for that meal. My hopeful doubts were brutally smacked when first one, then another of the sheep collapsed in mid-stride. Before long, all six lay sprawled in grotesque imitation of the rats around the communal cooking fire.

“You’ve done well, mortal.” Sheogorath’s voice wafted on the night breeze, and I flinched away from the gate. “I’m amused, I think. Go to the center of the town. And be certain to duck!” Shame sour in my mouth, I limped up the steps from the sheepfold to the upper terrace, then started down the central stairs. At the middle terrace, I stopped and looked around at the sleeping town. A sense of foreboding grew over the settlement as the night sky above transformed into the red and black storm clouds I knew so well from the Deadlands. As I looked up, dark forms, trailing fire and agonized howls, began to fall from an incredible height. I winced involuntarily as they landed around me with sickening sounds of shattering bone and splattering tissue. Horrified, I stared at the charred bodies of dogs scattered over the cobblestones.

Lights came on in the various houses, and Khajiiti bolted out. Screams and hisses pierced the night when they saw the smoking bodies. Panicked shouts of the end of the world stabbed at my heart as they ran past me toward the communal fire. The residents ignored me, and I took opportunity to slink away, my soul heavy.

***********

Depressed, I returned to the Shrine in the predawn light. “Good times, good times,” the Daedric Prince’s voice sounded gleefully. “I hope you had as much fun as I did. Here take this. It’s a fun little toy. Now go away. Before I kill you.”

A heavy staff, about two meters long, shimmered into being and dropped to the ground in front of me. Picking it up, I could feel power thrumming in its shaft. Fighting my revulsion, I slung the thing on my back and turned away from the Shrine. Again, I nearly bumped into Ravel.

“You’ve pleased the Madgod!” he exclaimed. “You must be proud of yourself. I, for one, still would like to eat your eyes. But, good for you!” I stared at him, then stepped past him, anxious to leave the Grove of Madness behind for good. “Drunk with madness!” he called after me. “Madness for all!”

By the Nine, I thought to myself, fighting the nausea that surged in my throat. I never want to deal with another Daedric Lord again. If they’re all that crazy, or evil as Mehrunes Dagon - I shook myself back into the present and made my way carefully down the rocky slope, returning to where Paint still waited beside the Wayshrine as the sun rose over the trees on the opposite bank.

**************

We reached Bravil in the late afternoon, I decided to stop for the night, and let Paint rest up. Imperial City lay a day’s ride to the north, and Bruma yet another day. I didn’t want to push Paint too hard. Stabling him at the Bay Roan, I gave Bienne a septim for his care, gathered my gear, and headed into the city.

Again, I had dinner at the Mages Guild. Aren tried goading me again, but I ignored him, too preoccupied with bringing the Daedric artifact back to Martin, and recovering Ardaline’s Mage Staff. Carandial was not present to distract me with his crooked smile. In a way, I was relieved. His solicitous attention towards me was more than a little - unsettling.

As the other mages dispersed after dinner, Kud-Ei spoke my name. Turning to look at her, I caught her gesture to sit beside her at the head of the table.

“You’re very quiet, tonight, Julian,” she said quietly.

“I’ve got a lot on my mind, ma’am,” I answered.

“Aleron Loche?” Kud-Ei poured a cup of hot tea from the pot, pushed it towards me, then refilled her own. I didn’t answer. Can’t tell her about Martin, or this staff of Sheogorath’s I’m carrying. “From what I undersstand, you couldn’t sstop him from being killed, even if you tried.”

“That’s just it,” avoiding Kud-Ei’s gaze, I sipped at the warm tea. “I did try, and I failed. And a street thug nearly killed me.” Shaking my head, I set the cup down with a soft clink. “There was a time when I would have shrugged him off without trying.”

“What you mean, ‘shrugged him off?’” Kud-Ei asked, her voice curious.

“Put him down,” I answered. “Killed him easily.”

“And what wass different thiss time?” Kud-Ei dropped a cube of raw sugar into her tea, her spoon making soft clinking noises as she stirred it. Her eyes remained on her cup when I glanced at her.

I leaned back in the chair, keeping my left hand cupped around the warmth of my tea. “It was hard,” I spoke slowly. “Though I remember how to fight, my body couldn’t keep up.”

“Then how did you manage to closse two Oblivion Gatess?” Kud-Ei stopped her stirring and tasted her tea.

“I hid a lot,” my eyes closed against the memory, I recalled my journeys through the Deadlands. “I moved slowly, looked before I entered each new area, and used the shadows. I used my bow a lot to keep them at a distance. I couldn’t do that so easily in the Hunter’s Run.” I met the Chapter head’s gaze. “It’s different when the enemy is charging you in close quarters.”

“How long have you been addicted to drink and sskooma?” The Argonian’s voice turned soft.

I considered the question. My first impulse was to refuse to answer. But Kud-Ei honestly seemed like she was trying to help, not remind me of my shortcomings. “I started drinking too much right after my discharge,” I said finally. “The skooma started two years ago.”

“Sso the addiction iss a fairly new thing,” Kud-Ei mused, taking another sip of her tea. “When you were in the Legion, you were young, sstrong, and healthy, correct?”

“And now I’m old, broken down, and sick,” I responded dryly. Kud-Ei shrugged.

“You ssaid it, not I,” she commented. “Sso why are you sstill fighting?”

“It’s the only thing I know,” I answered. “That’s why I joined the Mages Guild. I’m hoping to learn something new, so I can leave the fighting behind.”

“But it’ss turning out harder than you expected, no?” The Argonian looked into her cup, then refilled it again. She waited while I sipped at my own tea.

“Hard to leave the fighting?” I echoed. “Yes, I suppose. It’s a tough world out there, and many people are struggling to survive. When they need a hero -” my voice trailed off when I realized what I was saying.

“You’re that hero for them,” Kud-Ei smiled faintly. I shook my head.

“I’m not a hero,” I responded, “but I can’t say no when they ask me for help, or when they need help of the sort I know how to give them.” I rose to my feet. “That’s why I keep fighting, I guess.”

“Thesse are uncertain timess, indeed,” Kud-Ei remained seated. I looked at her.

“Ma’am,” I said softly, “I need to rest. I’d like to leave early for the Imperial City in the morning. Unless you need something else -”

“No, Julian.” Kud-Ei drained her cup. ‘That will be all.” She rose to her full height and met my gaze. “Good night.”

[hazmick]

living in England, I'm not that knowledgeable with OSHA but when I visited the U.S I met someone in Florida who worked for them or with them... or something.


"Though I knew many folks considered Argonians and Khajiit to be less than humans or merkind, I had fought too many of them, and alongside them, to think them less intelligent than myself."- hurrah! I loved this!

I hope Julian recovers from this quest, it would be easier if those Khajiit weren't so friendly!

[Olen]

I enjoyed the conversation at the end, it did well to highlight how out of character she had to act to do a greater good. Quite dark but she does know she had too, not that I think she won't consider it again and wonder if it was the right thing. I also wonder if she'll have cause to use wabbajack before she gives it to Martin.

Now I want to know what she'll do next. There's the staff to collect but then martin really needs that artefact and to give her another task she's really not going to like... Indeed I suspect there may have been some foreshadowing in her complaint about not liking fighting at close quarters.

[treydog]

Adding in the concern that Paint might be in jeopardy (previous installment) makes her decision a very "Julian" choice.

On to the new one- Julian's (and your) distaste for Sheo's idea of a joke is made quite clear. It makes sense that she only relates as much of the story and her interactions with the inhabitants of Border Watch as she must.

As to random killing of creatures, I agree completely. In Morrowind, my characters never bother the scribs or netch, because they are non-aggressive. And I think it makes sense for Julian, who has seen plenty of "necessary" violence to be disgusted by wasteful slaughter.

The scene with Kud-Ei is bittersweet, as Julian struggles with many issues- her doubts about her abilities, her decision to try a new path, and her need to confide in someone. You capture quite well the almost overwhelming number of interwoven tasks that she faces.

[SubRosa]

Poor Julian. I never liked that quest either, for the same reason as Julian.

The fetid aroma smacked me in the face with the force of a zombie slap
Who cut the cheese!

“I’m not a hero,”
You took the words right out of Teresa's mouth!

The ending with Kud-Ei was imho the best part of the segment. Again, you continue to portray her very strongly. I really like your and Acadian's Kud-Eis. I get the feeling that of all the MG chapters, Bravil is the one that Julian feels most at home, in spite of it being in the same city where she completely fell off track.

And of course, even though the discussion contained nothing new to us readers, it summed up everything we have seen about Julian. What is new is that it was all coming out of Julian's mouth this time. That self-awareness shows her growth as a person, as she faces whom she has become.

[mALX]

I'll bet that is a hard quest for you to enjoy, being a vet. I like it in spite of being an animal lover, lol. Great job you did on it, and gave us another insight into what makes Julian tick !!!!!!!

[Acadian]

Superbly done, Rider.

Initially that quest seems like perhaps a harmless prank, but it turns quite cruel in my opinion and I fully agree with Julian's revulsion. Such a lovely little Khajiit settlement that so warmly welcomes strangers. You also made it clear and reasonable that she felt it must be done and why. As I said, perfectly managed - Julian shined here (even though she was nauseated).

Ah, that is our dear Kud-Ei. Understated wisdom from behind an everpresent teacup. I love that we see her so similarly.

I totally agree with the brilliance of the lines quoted by those above me.

Although Julian may not consider herself a hero, I know a couple wispy wood elves that would heartily disagree.

[haute ecole rider]

@hazmick: Yes, both Julian and I would feel less guilty if those kitties weren’t so nice to us! Especially after that rarebit!

@Olen: I wanted to illustrate the quandary of the ends justifying the means - something soldiers and veterinarians wrestle with quite often.

@treydog: The aggressiveness of so many of the beasts in Oblivion is one of my pet peeves. I’d rather leave the lions, wolves and bears alone, thank you very much. But they won’t leave me (or my horse) alone!

@Sage Rosa: Wow. I guess we don’t call you Sage for nothing. Kud-Ei is one of my favorite of the Mages Guild heads, along with Carahil in Anvil. I think we can all figure who is Julian’s least favorite! Yes, I had noticed that Julian feels comfortable enough with this Argonian lady to confide her insecurities in Kud-Ei. It won’t be the last time . . .

@mALX: You hit the nail on the head about Sheo’s quest. I only do it for the Wabbajack - it’s the one artifact I have the least use for (and there are quite a few useless ones!).

@Acadian: Understated wisdom from behind an everpresent teacup? I’ll have to remember that!

We get to see more of the Legion in Julian as she finishes one more loose end from Bravil.

*****************
Chapter 14.5 Ardaline’s Staff

Replete with Merowald’s generous fare, I took my leave of the old Breton and Paint to head into the City. The Watch directed me to Soris Arenim’s house, within the Talos Plaza District, one of a block of rowhouses facing the exterior City wall.

Knocking on the portal, I heard a tenor voice call “Enter.” The door creaked on opening, and I paused just within to let my eyes adjust to the interior. It was well lit with tall windows at the rear admitting unfiltered sunlight into the main floor. A Dunmer man, thinning hair swept back from a high widow’s peak, turned from his reading desk. “Good day, ma’am,” he said. “How may I help you?”

“Varon Vamori told me to look Soris Arenim up the next time I was in the City,” I answered. “It seems Vamori considers Arenim a good friend.”

The Dunmer’s face lit up in a smile. “Ah, yes, Varon, Varon,” he nodded. “I am Soris Arenim. And you are -?”

“I am Julian of Anvil,” I answered. “Vamori suggested I see you about a -” I hesitated for effect, “sensitive matter.” I regarded him thoughtfully.

“Erissare!” Arenim called. A beautiful Altmer woman appeared from the rear of the house. “Please, some wine for our guest!”

“No, no wine, please,” I looked at Erissare. “I can’t have any drink. If you have water, ma’am, that would be fine, please.”

“Of course,” Erissare disappeared momentarily. Arenim waved me to an easy chair next to a brazier. Unbuckling my sheathed katana and leaning it against the arm, I took the indicated seat. He sat down on the nearby couch as the Altmer returned, bearing a flagon and three silver goblets. She poured water in all three, then seated herself next to Arenim.

“This is my lovely wife, Erissare,” Arenim introduced her. “My dear, this is Julian of Anvil. She is a friend of Varon’s.” After a sip from his goblet, he turned expectantly back to me. “What is this sensitive matter you speak of?”

“This requires the utmost discretion,” I shifted my gaze to Erissare. Arenim patted her knee affectionately.

“My wife is discreet, very much so,” he answered. “She knows all my secrets, and shares them with none.”

As I kept my face as neutral as I could, I regarded the couple for several moments. “It has come to my attention,” I spoke slowly, “that Vamori has committed a grave insult to a member of the Mages Guild.”

Erissare shifted beside Arenim, her eyes not moving from mine. I took a sip of the water, and looked at the Dunmer. His jaw was clenching tightly, his lips a thin line.

“Is that so?” he asked, his voice as taut as his jawline. “What did he do?”

“He stole a Mage’s Staff,” I answered bluntly. The Altmer woman inhaled sharply, shooting a glance at her husband. He did not return her gaze, but held mine locked in an unspoken challenge. “Vamori,” I continued, keeping my voice neutral, “faces charges of theft, harassment, and unlawful profiteering. The City Watch is looking for the man Vamori sold the Staff to.”

“Ah,” Arenim leaned back, his casual air unconvincing to my eye. Too many years of recruits squirming under my gaze made it hard to miss the subtle signs of unease in Arenim’s posture. “Do they know who this man is?”

“Vamori told me.” Arenim scowled at the implied meaning in my answer. If he told me, what did he tell the Watch? “It’s just a matter of time before the Bravil Watch submits a request to the Imperial City Watch,” I continued. Arenim hid his growing unease behind another sip of the water, but I could see Erissare’s hand clenching on his, still resting on her knee.

“And how are you involved?” He’s smooth, this one, I thought. He’s not admitting he has the Staff, yet.

“Vamori wants to make amends,” I answered. “He wants to get the Staff back.”

Arenim took another sip, his red eyes reflective. “As much as I like you, friend, and as much as I like Vamori,” he said slowly, “I’m not willing to part with the Mage’s Staff. It’s my Staff now.” He shrugged. “Nothing personal, you understand.”

“Of course,” I nodded calmly. “And you understand that anyone caught holding a stolen item can be charged with possession, profiting from illegal activities such as theft and interfering with the duties of a mage.” I recalled an incident from my Legion days. “Believe me, the Legion Battlemages frown on these sort of antics. If one were to pay you a visit -” I let my voice trail off. I had heard the chill creeping into my voice, the same chill that had scared Vamori so badly.

Arenim set his goblet down on the low table in front of him, his gaze hardening on me. “Are you threatening me, Julian of Anvil?” his voice slipped through the silence.

“On the contrary,” my own tone remained chilly. “I have personally seen what the Legion Battlemages are capable of when they set their mind to torture.” After a sip of the water, I met Erissare’s frightened gaze. “Exquisite, really,” I continued. “Their methods are very elegant, and very, very cruel.”

Erissare rose suddenly, spilling a few drops from her goblet. “Excuse me, please,” she whispered breathlessly, and bolted from the front room. Arenim turned his head as her footsteps faded away, then he looked back at me, his expression grim.

“Pardon me, ma’am,” he inclined his head at me. “I need a couple of minutes.”

“Of course,” I replied, leaning back in the chair and taking another sip from the silver goblet in my hand. Arenim rose and headed after his wife. A few moments later, I could just barely hear their voices, hers frantic, his tensely calm.

I was eyeing the flagon on the table, my goblet empty, when Arenim returned. His ashen complexion was paler than before, his lips only a thin gash in his tense face. He sat down and gulped the last of the water in his goblet with a grimace as if it was firewater.

“Look,” he said, his voice matching his expression, “I can’t just give it to you. Give me at least a portion of what I paid for it.”

“I have two hundred septims with me,” I placed Vamori’s purse on the table beside the flagon. “That and a clean resolution to this matter that will not involve jail time, fines, or besmirched reputations.”

Arenim reached for the purse. In a smooth motion, I picked up the sheathed katana by the blade and rapped the table with the brass ball in the sword’s hilt, narrowly missing his fingers. “Let me see the Staff, first,” I said quietly. The Dunmer glared at me.

“Wait here, then,” he said tersely, with another glance at the sack on the table.

“I won’t touch it,” I promised him. “You can count it before I leave.” Arenim threw me another glare, then headed to the rear of the house. I waited, my weapon across my lap, my left hand on its sheath, my right resting on the hilt.

Erissare reappeared, her eyes puffy and her face pale. She hesitated when she spotted the katana resting across my knees. “S- Soris d- doesn’t w- want any trouble, ma’am,” she stammered.

“I’m sure he doesn’t, ma’am” I responded smoothly. “But I didn’t survive this long without being ready for the unexpected.” I smiled to warm my tone.

Erissare moved slowly to pick up the flagon. She carried it with her to the rear of the house. Her unspoken message was clear: Finish your business and get out. I wanted nothing more than to do just that.

Arenim returned, passing his wife in the doorway. He carried a two-meter long staff, made of knurled wood with a forked end. I could see the whisper of power along its edges. As I rose to my feet, I clipped my katana at my belt. The Dunmer handed me the Staff with a scowl.

A close examination indicated it matched the description Kud-Ei had given me: “Worn smooth on the handle, it hums with Illusion power. The head is engraved with morning glory vines.” Meeting Arenim’s gaze, I nodded at the table, where Vamori’s pouch still sat. “Thank you, serjo,” I said to him.

The butt of the Staff grounded on the stone floor, I cradled the shaft in my crossed arms and waited. Arenim tossed me an inscrutable look, then moved to the couch and sat down. He reached for the purse, more warily this time, but when I did not move, he opened the flap and emptied its contents onto the table.

“Ah,” he said, his tone more satisfied. “I see you are as good as your word,” he looked up at me, “at least as far as the gold is concerned. Now for the rest -”

“I leave in the morning for Bravil, to wrap things up with Vamori,” I said, picking the Staff up to clear the floor and heading for the front door. My hand on the door handle, I turned to look at Arenim. “On his behalf, thank you for your cooperation.”

[treydog]

Now that is Julian at her scary, ex-Legion best! You write confrontational conversations as well as you do the more friendly sort. Something I liked- and that the game rather ignores- is the fact that the staff is "stolen property." The player character can be given a fair amount of grief for "holding;" why should the same not be true for NPCs?
Inspired.

Then there is the wonderful by-play between husband and wife in their home- which I think may affect our single, somewhat homeless Redguard more deeply than she yet knows.

[Acadian]

Thanks for breakfast in Weye, and glad to see Paint is not staying at the stables with that Snak grabbing orc.

Buffy was taking copious notes as we read how a true professional calmly goes about completing a quest. Julian's wisdom, born of a lifetime of hard seasoning really shines here. Honorable and direct - but brilliantly negotiated. No B&E in the middle of the night for our Redguard.

Not only was this well done, it was so very Julian.

Now, unless I'm mistaken, it seems Julian's 'Bravil dance card' is almost full. I'm saddened somewhat to expect that her duties will soon take her from our City of Mara. Ah, duty calls though and there is an Empire for our hero to save.

[D.Foxy]

Hautee....


Ever consider a career as a bill collector???

[hazmick]

I wouldn't want to mess with Julian, powerful stuff. You've one a good job with my least favourite recommendation.

[SubRosa]

I thought you all call me sage because I remind you of the herb used for smudging!

An excellent segment! You kept the tension ratcheted up during the entire thing, which was wonderful. Especially good was Julian's caution at the end. For a few moments I was wondering if Soris was going to come back downstairs and shoot Julian with the staff!

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Aug 26 2010, 05:05 PM

[Olen]

I had wondered how you would resolve that quest. Well done, not so far from the game but still in character. Somehow I can't see Julian buying back stolen goods with her own money but sneaking around at night isn't really her style. Dialogue like that, however, is very much so.

The real crowning jewel for me though was the interaction between the Arenims, which Julian played well on. You really brought them to life as for all that Soris's wife 'knows all his secrets' she didn't really and lent on him. Nice three way interaction to bring this to a satisfying end.

I agree with SubRosa that I thought Soris might come up staff blazing only to find that it's rather useless charming was grossly insuficient.

Now how to speand an afternoon/evening in the IC...

This post has been edited by Olen: Aug 26 2010, 04:57 PM

[mALX]

I thought you all call me sage because I remind you of the herb used for smudging!

SPEW !!!


@ Hauty - Julian would make a good mother, not just for her rapport with children - but for her ability to read when they are fudging on the truth !!! Great chapter !!!!

This post has been edited by mALX: Aug 26 2010, 06:25 PM