Old Habits Die Hard Part Five, New habits? Or just old ones recycled? Options

[Destri Melarg]

I would have serious misgivings about trusting my life to someone called Bittneld the Curse Bringer, no matter how competent he is!

You continue to display the most refined sense of knowing when to use narration and when to use flashback. Showing her conversation with Chanel via flashback gives us an unmistakable sense of the time that Julian has spent in her investigation. From her immediate suspicion of Chanel’s ‘star readings’ line (I am embarrassed to say that I completely missed that on my first playthrough, and as a result I gave the Countess the wrong name), to her deduction over the age of the painting in the storeroom, nothing gets by her discerning eye.

[Acadian]

'Her feminine beauty made me feel awkward and gangly next to her.'
How perfectly appropriate for Julian. There is indeed a woman in there who naturally is not totally satisfied with what Mara gave her. The Legion, and overcoming addictions, have no doubt taken their toll on our dear Redguard. She possesses the beauty of experience though. And don't forget about those beautiful emerald eyes and striking hair!

'Her gaze flickered slightly, and I made certain the frown I could feel on my face remained invisible.'
This is both beautiful and clever.

“Man, it feels good to just sit quietly in the sun for a bit without hearing that infernal Gate,”
I chuckled as I imagined Julian saying, "Quoted for truth!"

You continue to do a great job with Bittneld. He rings true.

I still can't wait to find out how Julian deals with things when she confirms whodunnit.

[Thomas Kaira]

Vittneld certainly punctured Chanel's alibi quite heartily. Knowing Julian's suspicions, I'm feeling that Chanel's quarters are first on her list.

Very interesting idea of having the light of a Welkynd stone reveal the portrait being painted. I've always wondered why she decided to hide her hobby so well? Portrait painting on its own is a harmless pastime. My guess is that Chanel moved her painting projects down there rather recently, but the reasons the game gave for the studio being so out of the way are, frankly, quite flimsy.



Anyways, I'm sure you'll be able to do a better job than Beth. did on this quest. You always do.

[haute ecole rider]

@SubRosa: Well, Chanel already lied about the weather that night, why not lie about why she was really in the dining hall as well? Yes, and Julian was thinking the same even before her conversation with Bittneld, but the good old Curse Bringer just confirmed her suspicions.

@Destri: Thanks for the compliments. I’m with you, I missed that star readings clue myself too, though I didn’t go as far as giving the Countess the wrong name. Nope. I ended up peeking in the game guide and giving myself a face-palm moment.

@Acadian: It’s always interesting to see what you pick out as lines or parts that resonate with you as a reader who happens to write a terrific story of his own. I’ll let you in on a secret. Julian still can’t get used to the white hair. She’s so used to thinking of herself with black hair that whenever she catches a glimpse of that white hair (in a mirror, a polished shield, still water, etc) it takes her off guard. And Bittneld is only echoing my own sentiments about the blessed silence that follows the closing of a Gate.

@TK: I hope this next installment clears up any nits you may have with the in-game quest.

Julian has spent the day gathering clues and investigating people concerning a certain missing painting. Now we catch up to her again as she has dinner with an former subordinate from her Legion days.

***************************
Chapter 25.7: Closing a Case

“Parmenion told me you would be here for dinner,” Ashcroft slid into the chair opposite me. My mouth full of mutton stew, I glanced over at the innkeeper. The tall Nord caught my eye and nodded when I held up a finger then pointed at the Breton across the table. “Let me treat you, ma’am.”

“No, let me treat you instead,” I answered. “The Countess was generous enough.”

The Nord innkeeper set a brimming bowl of savory stew in front of Ashcroft, along with a large hunk of fresh-baked bread. “The usual, Faric?”

“Yes, Emfrid, thanks very much,” Ashcroft nodded, already stuffing his face. “Hmm, good,” he managed to speak without spitting. Emfrid shook her head at him with a sidelong glance at me before returning to the bar.

“Mind your manners, Ashcroft,” I reminded him. He choked the stew down.

“’Tis been a long day, ma’am,” he said. He glanced up at Emfrid with a smile when she returned with a tankard of ale. After he washed the stew down with a sip, he sighed in satisfaction. “I hear you solved the mystery of the missing painting, ma’am.”

“Hmm,” I muttered into my stew. “I was just lucky, I guess.”

“How did you know it was Chanel, ma’am?” Ashcroft remembered to swallow first this time.

“Found a makeshift studio in one of the towers,” I answered. “Then found painting material in her room. When I asked her about it, she confessed to all of it.”

Chanel stopped in the doorway. “Oh, you scared me!” Her eyes moved from me, seated next to her desk, to the lectern, its lid open to reveal a sketchbook and charcoal sticks. I watched silently as unease flickered over her pretty face and thinned her full lips. “Were you waiting for me?”

“Yes, I was,” I kept my tone soft. “The Countess complained to me about paint stains on the dining hall carpet, and I found a makeshift studio in the lower level of the west tower. Perhaps you’d care to explain this?” I gestured toward the revealed art supplies.

Chanel closed the door with a soft snick behind her, her eyes downcast. She moved to the bed and sat on its edge, facing me. “That studio is my doing,” she murmured. “I’ve always painted in my spare time. It relaxes me.”

“That’s good,” I leaned my cheek on my left hand, elbow propped on the desk. “But why did the Countess not name you when I asked if she knew of an artist in the castle?”

“Because I never told her about it,” Chanel’s voice grew even softer.

“Why didn’t you?” I watched her closely, noticing how her breath grew shallow and how her eyes shifted restlessly beneath lowered lids. “Countess Valga strikes me as the sort of noblewoman who would be proud to have an artist in residence.”

“Not this artist!” Chanel’s response was a little more heated than I expected. I felt my eyes narrow at her.

“Since you’re so good with the paintbrush, perhaps you can tell me who painted that portrait of the Count?”

Her head snapped up. “It was I who painted that portrait!” Her voice turned anguished. “I did out of the greatness of the love I held in my heart for him.” Her eyes shimmered in the lantern light and her breath caught. “Still hold in my heart,” she whispered, slumping again.

“So it was you who took the painting,” I said quietly. “I had been wondering how you could take star readings on a stormy night with rain pouring down. When I found this,” I lowered my left hand to the lectern, opening the sketchbook to an unfinished charcoal portrait of a handsome man, “I knew for certain that you had lied to me about that night.”

Chanel sat silently, but a single tear twinkled its way down her cheek. I stifled a sigh. Why would you risk your position and standing in a county seat for a man? A dead one at that?

“Chanel, look at me,” I struggled to keep the pilus out of my voice. No point in scaring her now. When the Redguard mage obeyed my soft command, I held her gaze for a few moments longer. “Why did you take it?”

“When the Count passed away,” Chanel sniffled and wiped the back of her hand across her cheek, “the Countess sequestered the painting in her bedchamber and spent so much time with it. I became jealous, then when I couldn’t remember his face anymore, I became scared. So I sneaked into her bedchamber that night and took the painting out of its frame. I intended only to borrow it to paint a copy.”

“In the dining hall?” I asked. Chanel nodded.

“But I heard the guardsmen returning from the Oblivion Gate, and had to give up that idea.”

“So that’s how the paint ended up on the dining hall carpet,” I mused. “I had wondered why there was paint there when a nice studio was ready in the west tower.”

“I had intended to return the painting once I sketched in the copy,” Chanel shifted on the bed, clasping her hands in her lap and returning her gaze to the floor. “And no one would have been the wiser.”

“But you never got to finish the sketch,” again I gestured at the book. “And you didn’t return the painting.”

“I couldn’t,” Chanel’s voice turned defensive. “When the Countess discovered it gone, she sent the entire castle into upheaval! I had no chance to return it!”

Now I had to force myself to keep the pilus down. Easy, Julian, she’s not one of your tironii, I reminded myself. “You had three days to return it to the Countess. Instead, you held onto it, and allowed unnecessary suspicion and distrust fall on others in the castle. Don’t you think it’s time you stopped thinking only of yourself?”

Chanel stared at me, her eyes huge in her small-featured face. “If you’ve ever been in love, you would know -“

I felt my face freeze at her words. That stings. “It doesn’t matter whether I’ve ever been in love or not,” I could feel the ice in my tone. “What matters is that you took property that belonged to the Countess. Granted you painted that portrait. But you gave it to the Count, didn’t you? Which means it became the Countess’s property when he died. You have had no claim to it since the day you gave it to the man you loved.” I rose to my feet and closed the sketchbook gently. “I’m going to report to the Countess now.”

Chanel shot to her feet. “What will you tell her?”

Carefully I lowered the lid on the lectern. “The truth.” I faced the mage. “You may as well hand over the painting now. I’ll return it to the Countess.”

Ashcroft eyed me thoughtfully. “Were you being the pilus you used to be, ma’am?”

I felt my right brow lift at his words. “Now that you mention it,” I pointed my fork at him. “I am a former pilus. That means you and I are now more or less equals. There’s no need for you to go ma’amming me anymore.”

The redheaded Breton hid his sheepish grin behind his tankard. “Even though you don’t look the same as you used to,” he remarked casually, “you still have the air of the pilus about you. Old habits die hard, ma’am - Julian.”

“So they do,” I gave him the hard glare he should still be familiar with. “I hope you got rid of a certain few, however.”

“Ah, I did lose a few,” Ashcroft remained insouciant. “But maybe not the ones you hoped I would lose.”

“That’s too bad,” I remarked.

“You said the Countess was more than generous enough?” Ashcroft dove again into the stew. “I take it she was pleased with the outcome?”

“Yes, and no,” I answered. “She was happy to get the painting back, but she was displeased with Chanel’s actions. She considers it a betrayal of her trust.”

“Ah, Julian, dare I guess what you hold in your hands?” The Countess rose from her throne as I stepped onto the stone floor of the audience hall. Bittneld and Wavrick turned to watch as I carried the large canvas, still attached to its stretchers, toward the dais. I turned it to face the Countess. Anticipation turned to joy as her anxious gaze fell on the beloved visage.

I held my ground as Countess Valga swept down to me and took the canvas from my hands, holding it up at arm’s length. “Oh, my beloved Charus! I missed you so!” I half-expected her to kiss the pigmented surface, but instead she turned to me. “Where did you find it? How did you find it?”

“The culprit only borrowed it to make a copy of the portrait,” I answered. “There was no chance to return it to its place. It was agreed that I would return it to you instead.”

Valga frowned, then handed the portrait to Wavrick. “Please return the Count to his place,” she murmured to him. “Julian, Bittneld, if both of you would come with me, please.” She clapped her hands, dismissing the other courtiers.

The captain and I trailed after the aged Countess back to the dining hall. At a nod from her, Bittneld closed the door between the two chambers, then crossed the immense room and did the same with the one leading back to the kitchens. Valga sat at the same table she had used earlier that morning.

“Tell me, Julian, who was the culprit?”

Briefly I considered not revealing the identity of the thief, but decided against it. My first duty lay to the Countess, not to Chanel. “It was the court mage.”

Valga’s brows rose. “Chanel?” she repeated. “But why -?” her voice trailed off as her eyes turned things over in her mind. “I see,” she said finally. “I had forgotten.”

“I don’t see it at all,” Bittneld spoke curtly. “Why?”

“I had forgotten she painted that portrait,” Valga responded. “If she wanted to make a copy of it, it makes sense. Though I’m not saying I find that an acceptable reason for her covert actions. All she had to do was ask to borrow it for a day.” She saw the surprise I felt. “Yes, I knew she had painted my husband. Charus told me of it when he received the painting. He didn’t think anything of it at first, but then he realized she loved him. He tried to discourage it, but she wouldn’t listen.” She sighed. “He was killed in battle shortly afterwards.”

“She still loves him greatly,” I said gently. “While she must be punished -“

“Of course, I am not without pity,” Valga waved her gnarled hand dismissively. “I won’t jail her. But she must leave Chorrol without delay, and never set foot in the county again.” She turned to Bittneld. “See to it, Captain.”

He hesitated with a glance at me. But before I could draw breath to speak again, Valga waved him away irritably. “Yes, yes, I know, Captain. Julian, your real purpose here was not to help me recover the portrait of my lost love, no?”

“No, ma’am,” I answered simply.

“Yes, I have heard about your mission from some of the others. My daughter is not - fond of you, but my son-in-law refers to you with respect.” She watched as I struggled to hide my surprise at her words. “And I have nothing but admiration for Narina Carvain. Unlike myself and Countess Anvil, she came into her seat under her own power. Tonight after dinner, Captain Bittneld and I will discuss whom of the guard shall go to Bruma. I believe we can spare five contubernii, no, Captain?”

“Five sounds about right, milady,” Bittneld bowed to her before leaving the dining hall.

“How long have you been here in Chorrol?” I asked the redheaded Breton across from me.

“Since I rostered out of the Legion two years ago,” Ashcroft replied. “Asked for a recommendation to a guardsman position, they suggested either Burd in Bruma or Bittneld here. I picked Chorrol because it’s milder than my home county.”

“You’re from the Wrothgarians, right?” I searched my memory. “Are you familiar with any of the horse breeders in that area by any chance?”

“I know a few, certainly,” Ashcroft shrugged. “Why?”

“I just brought a High Rock stallion in Anvil,” I answered. “He grew up in the Wrothgarians.”

“Do you know his breeder’s name?”

“Breeder and trainer,” I searched my memory, “Mira Renoir.”

Ashcroft stared at me, his jaw frozen in mid-chew. “Renoir?” He remembered to empty his mouth. “Mira Renoir?” He shook his head. “She learned the craft from her grandda. He was unusually gifted with the horses. How did this horse end up in Anvil, though? She doesn’t sell her horses so far away, especially the stallions.”

“She sold this one to Clesa in Anvil,” I answered. “And Clesa sold him to me.”

“I’ve heard of this Clesa,” Ashcroft shook his head. “I wonder why she sold the horse to you. She’s usually too canny to let one of that quality go so easily.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t be looking too hard at this,” I replied. “But I can’t help wondering why she sold him to me at considerably less than what she paid for him.”

“Did Clesa place any conditions on the sale?” Ashcroft rubbed at his jaw thoughtfully.

“Just that I bring him back to her every spring for breeding to her mares,” I answered. “She did tell me that she decided to sell him to me because he chose me.” Like Ashcroft did just moments earlier, I shook my own head. “I’m not certain I believe that.”

Ashcroft regarded me thoughtfully, then leaned forward. “I don’t know if this is true, it’s just rumors -“ He paused as if considering whether to press forward with his thought or not. “When I was growing up, my da used to say that Gervais Renoir was one of the High Reach witchmen.”

“Her father?” I repeated, feeling my brows rise at his startling statement.

“Her grandda. Folks in that part of Tamriel say that that kind of talent tends to skip a generation or two. Her da was unremarkable as they come, though he was competent enough with the horses.”

I stared at him. “Are you suggesting Blanco is - cursed?”

Ashcroft chuckled. “Not necessarily. If he picked you, I’d say Blanco is more than your typical stallion. And as such, he is not to be treated with disrespect.”

This post has been edited by haute ecole rider: Apr 1 2011, 06:54 PM

[SubRosa]

I keep wondering if Ashcroft will one day become Attorney General of Cyrodiil...

Why would you risk your position and standing in a county seat for a man?
I have never understood this either. Not about Chanel, but IRL. One more reason I am glad I am a lesbian.

Once again you make excellent use of a flashback to tell the story of Julian's solving of the mystery. This is really your strongest point as a writer I think. You use your flashbacks like deft sword-thursts at the heart of the plot. You cut right to the heart of the matter, and do not bog us down with the unimportant things inbetween.

Of course there was never really any doubt in my mind as to what Julian would do once she learned Chanel (I wonder if she was her parent's fifth child?) took the painting. She is such a straight arrow, that nothing else was an option.

Old habits die hard,
Slipped another one in I see!

So Mira Renoit is a Witchwoman of the Western Reach? and her grand-dad was Monty Roberts? Julian was lucky indeed to get that horse!

[Captain Hammer]

Finally caught up to you again. Great framing for the investigation into a missing painting. I have a general level of caution whenever I read things that make extensive use of flashback form, but you avoid the pitfalls and manage to make it a meaningful story-crafting tool, instead of a cheap gimmick.

One nit:

Tonight after dinner, Captain Bittneld and I will discuss whom of the guard shall go to Chorrol. I believe we can spare five contubernii, no, Captain?”

I believe you meant Bruma, there.

More interesting things to be learned about dear Blanco. If horsemanship in Oblivion was that detailed, and the ability to get a war-horse not contingent upon doing the Dark Brotherhood quests, I probably would have put more time into the equestrian endeavors.

[Thomas Kaira]

Yes, that ending to the quest was much better. Providing that simple sketch was all it took.

[Olen]

I keep wondering if Ashcroft will one day become Attorney General of Cyrodiil...

Or lie about his nationality and tax status...

SubRosa caught my thoughts on that part really. The flashbacks tell the story well and keep the style fresh and also give us an idea of the character of the guardsmen. I'm wondering what part Ashcroft has to play, as yet he's a connection to her past, however I suspect he will become more. His knowledge of Blanco could proove interesting too.

I agree that your handling of that quest was better than in game where the evidence was circumstantial at best. Chanel still had the feel she had in game of being a bit of an idiot which kept it close to the game though.

[Acadian]

I agree that your use of flashback is skillful here. It lets you impart your own sense of time to events and hone directly in on the essence of what you are flashing back to. The transitions to and from flashback are very important to prevent any possibility of confusion, and you did this flawlessly.

Julian's decision regarding Chanel is perfectly in keeping with her character. She compassionately did her duty. I also admired her restraint when nipped by Chanel about having been in love. Once again, her experience and maturity won the day, allowing her to overcome the sting she felt and respond like the pro she is.

“Yes, I have heard about your mission from some of the others. My daughter is not - fond of you, but my son-in-law refers to you with respect.” She watched as I struggled to hide my surprise at her words. “And I have nothing but admiration for Narina Carvain. Unlike myself and Countess Anvil, she came into her seat under her own power. Tonight after dinner, Captain Bittneld and I will discuss whom of the guard shall go to Bruma. I believe we can spare five contubernii, no, Captain?”
What a fabulous roundup of 'Noblesville'! That was quite the insight into how Countess Chorrol thinks. Beyond her bloodline to Leyawiin, it shows that of course these nobles all know and have opinions about each other. Further, each of the opinions/observations you wove in here was a gem.

The Ashcroft, Breton, Highrock, Blanco linkage is intriguing, and I look forward to seeing if there is more to it. On one hand, the opportunity to have some more Blanco 'character development' (because he surely is a character!) is most welcome. On the other hand, I love simply having rich tidbits presented that are no more than they appear. Like life, not all things have to be dramatic/followed up, go somewhere or be some sort of foreshadow/clue; some do and some don't. So, you see, whichever way you lead with this will be most welcome!

[haute ecole rider]

@SubRosa: Your sentiments about Chanel’s choices are not limited nor unique to lesbians. I’m straight, and I feel just the same way. You’re right, Julian is quite the straight arrow. Her white hair stands in for the white hat of the old Westerns! Yes, Julian is quite lucky indeed that Blanco came into her life.

@Cap’n Crunch: Hey, welcome back! I”m glad you caught up. I’ve slowed down the pace of my posting a bit, so hopefully that will help you keep up in the future. And you’re right, I meant Bruma. Nit fixed. As for a real war-horse, well, Shadowmere isn’t one, either. More a race horse than anything else (though granted she is way more durable than most RL race horses!). A war horse doesn’t need speed so much as agility, courage, and yes, stones. Hmm, perhaps Blanco can become the next Guildmaster of the Fighters Guild? Imagine Oreyn reporting to him!

@TK: I’m delighted that you are much happier with this version of the quest compared to Beth’s.

@Acadian: Yes, Julian’s decisions regarding Chanel are true to her character. Her moment of self-doubt - do I report her to the Countess? - only reflects the redefining (or refining) of her nature that Julian is undergoing throughout this story. Thank you for pointing out that not every rich tidbit and nuanced fact needs to go somewhere, as in real life they often don’t. Many times they only serve to enrich our existence and improve our Trivial Pursuit scores.

In the last chapter Julian clears up a mystery at the Chorrol castle and encounters another mystery when Faric Ashcroft, a former tiro of hers, fills her in on Blanco’s breeder. Now she moves ahead on another familiar quest.

*****************************
Chapter 25.8: Cloud Top

By the time I found the ruined arch that marked the path leading to Cloud Top, I was glad I had chosen to ride Blanco. He came to a halt quietly at my signal, his breathing easy and his neck warm and only slightly moist. I dropped the rein against his neck, dismounted and sat down against the blocks, turning my face to the sun. Blanco swung his head as he looked around us, his ears pricking in each direction. He remained relaxed though, and soon dropped his head into the half-doze, knuckling one hind leg in the resting stance.

The view along the southern face of the Jeralls was breathtaking. At this altitude, the bright noon sunlight gave everything around us a crisp edge, while distant features held a blued tint. Below I could just make out the outlines of Chorrol’s walls. From this vantage point I knew I couldn’t see Weynon Priory, nestled out of sight on the far side of the town. But I still searched for the small chapel’s bell steeple anyway.

“I see you’re ready for traveling,” Brother Piner greeted me as I fed the apples to Paint and Blanco, each in turn. I glanced at him where he leaned his forearms on the half-wall of the stable.

“Yes, I’m going to Cloud Top,” I returned my attention to the two horses before they began jostling me with their muzzles. Piner waited as I bit off two more pieces and fed each of them. “Earana wants me to fetch a book for her.”

“And she doesn’t want Teekeeus to know about it, right?” Piner smiled at my nod. “Those two really have it in for each other. I’m surprised you agreed to go get it for her, after the way she disrespected you yesterday.”

“You were there?” I asked. Piner shook his head.

“I heard about it from Dar-Ma, Seed Neeus’s daughter, when I was in Northern Goods and Trade.” He shook his head. “Apparently you made quite the impression on her.”

The last of the apples crunched between their teeth as I stroked the horses’ necks, then stepped out of the stable. “Hopefully her mother doesn’t disapprove.” I picked up Blanco’s saddle and carried it back inside. Blanco whickered softly and pawed at the hard-packed dirt, but stood quietly as I lowered it onto his round back. Once I settled it as Clesa had shown me, I tightened the girth.

“What makes you say that, Julian?” Piner took the bridle down from its peg and shook its straps out. “Why should her mother disapprove?”

“Some mothers don’t think I make a good role model for their impressionable young daughters,” I remarked dryly as Piner handed the bridle to me. “After all, I’m a Legion pilus, likely to break into foul language at the drop of a hat, spending all my free time in taverns with other rough soldiers, and spoiling for a fight.”

“I don’t think Seed Neeus is one of those,” Piner chuckled while Blanco accepted the bit. “Rather, she wants her daughter to grow up self-reliant and self-confident. Like you.”

“We’ll see,” I answered as I checked the girth one last time. Blanco followed me out of the stable, then stood patiently on the cobblestones. “Besides, I’m not getting it for Earana. I’m getting it for the Mages Guild. This is the last recommendation I need before I can enter the Arcane University.”

“Then Talos be with you,” Piner stepped back as I mounted Blanco. “And safe travels!”

“Well Blanco,” I rose to my feet and dug another apple out of the saddlebags. “Here you go, enjoy.” He woke at the first crunch. “I know you don’t need much in the way of food,” I watched him chew the bite I gave him. “But I appreciate you doing all the hard work coming up here.” He fluttered his nostrils at me as if agreeing. “Still, I feel the need for a bit of exercise,” I continued feeding him the apple. “So I’ll walk the rest of the way.” I turned and looked up the faded path that led upwards. Just beyond the slope, I could make out the tops of more ruined arches. “It looks like Cloud Top is an old fort,” I said to the stallion as he finished the last of the apple. “I’m glad. I don’t like those Ayleid ruins. They give me the creeps.”

He followed after me as I started up the winding path, contentedly crunching each bite of the apple as I handed them back to him. Finally we reached the remains of the old fort. The ancient rockslide rose steeply behind the ghost of a keep. Only three of the typical support columns remained intact, holding up a pair of stone beams between them. A fourth one lay half-buried in the mountainside, tipped over at a drunken angle. In the center of the half-obliterated space described by the four support posts, a jagged stump of a marble column rose with an eerie glow, evident even in the strong sunlight.

Blanco stopped just outside the arches as I stepped onto the mossy cobblestones. A glance back showed him staring intently at the black form that lay sprawled on the ground near the broken pillar. His nostrils flared widely, and he pawed at the ground nervously, then looked at me. I turned back to regard the shape that had so disturbed him.

There’s nothing to fear from this, I thought, kneeling beside the charred corpse. It’s been dead a long time. I unclipped my sheathed dagger from my belt and used it to lift aside burned clothing that still clung to the trunk. Something slid out and landed on the ground next to the partially exposed ribs. A book. The book? I glanced around the place. There were no indications that an entrance into the depths of the fort still existed. There’s no other hiding place. Unless - my gaze fell again on that eerie pillar. Behind me, the grating sound of hoof on stone pulled my attention around. Blanco doesn’t like that pillar. He doesn’t like me so close to it. It’s not the dead body that bothers him, it’s that pillar.

I looked back down at the corpse and reached for the book. Surprisingly, it seemed intact, with only a very mild scorching around the edges of the leather cover. As I picked it up, my fingertips tingled uncomfortably. When have I felt this before? The Mysterium Xarxes! It’s the same feeling! I almost dropped it at the realization. Another foul daedric text? Is that what Earana wants? A daedric text? And does Teekeeus know how to read it?

For a moment I wondered if giving the book to Teekeeus as he had requested would be the right thing to do. Who’s right? Earana obviously has the greater magicka just by virtue of her race, but Teekeeus seems the more prudent of the two. The only person I would really trust with such a volume is Martin Septim. But what purpose would giving him this book serve? What would he do with it? He has to focus on recovering the Amulet, he can’t be distracted by a trifling matter as this. Or is this a trifling matter? Nothing daedric is trifling, as far as I know.

Again Blanco pawed restlessly at the cobblestones. I glanced up at the pillar. This person died here. He was scorched here. That kind of power has to come from somewhere. That pillar has the same kind of glow as that light-stone in Chanel’s secret studio. It’s magical. Could it be the source of the death-blow that killed this poor soul? And why was he killed? Because he had the book in his possession? Or because he tried to do something that was described in the book?

That made up my mind. Best to give this book to someone who lacks the knowledge necessary to translate it, but understands enough of the danger to keep it locked up safe. That would be Teekeeus. Holding a corner of the book between my fingertips, I rose to my feet and backed away from the corpse, my eyes on the pillar. I did not stop moving until Blanco’s breath stirred my ponytail. When my knees began knocking, I realized how tense I had been. There was something about that pillar, something inimical to my senses.

As I stowed the book in the saddlebags, Blanco lifted his head up and his ears pointed toward that glowing pillar. I noticed that he stood with his weight distributed back over his hocks, ready to spin and bolt. Yet he did not move a muscle while I placed my foot in the stirrup and swung my other leg over his back. He waited while I settled into the saddle and picked up the rein.

When I gave Blanco the signal, he turned on his haunches and started high-stepping down the steep path. I decided to trust him and eased up on the reins a bit in a tacit signal to pick his own pace. Blanco bolted into a rocking canter, careening down the mountainside until we passed the stone arch that remained of Cloud Top’s outer defenses. As we continued down the High Road, he slowed down to a walk and blew mightily.

“You didn’t like that place much, did you?” I ruffled his mane. Blanco bobbed his head emphatically without pulling on the reins. “I don’t plan on returning there, so don’t worry about it anymore.” No, instead we have Sancre Tor ahead. And I have a feeling it’s going to be much more dangerous than Cloud Top. Else why would the place be sealed after four Blades were lost in there?

[SubRosa]

“Rather, she wants her daughter to grow up self-reliant and self-confident.
A woman who is self-reliant and confident? Now there is an idea that terrifies a great many people.

Julian discovers Cloud Top, and the book. You do an excellent job creating tension as she examines the site, and the body, and finally the book. In the game this is just a simple fetch and carry, for a spell that is really not worth having since you can make better ones yourself. But you have transformed the book into something dark and mysterious. The fact that there is no telling what it might do makes it even more foreboding. Especially given the corpse.

[Acadian]

I so enjoyed how you made Blanco such an integral part of this, and truly a partner to Julian. His insight and ability to communicate is fabulous!

It was also fun 'listening in' on Julian's logic regarding disposition of the book, and the reasoned conclusion she came to. Very effective to include bringing the book to Martin as a consideration; not only was that a valid option to consider, but it reminds us of the bigger picture and ties nicely to Julian's true purpose in Chorrol.

I like the fact that this quest has at least a couple possible approaches/options.

[Grits]

I found Julian and Blanco’s reactions to the pillar fascinating. I love that she thinks of Martin as someone who could have the book. Cloud Top is so beautiful, I tend to ignore the charred body. Julian enjoyed the view, but approached with her brain engaged.

[Olen]

I have to agree with Acadian on the brilliant dynamic you're building between Blanco and Julian. They are quite different in many ways and offset eachother well. Blanco brings a bit more vim to the pair while Julain has the experiance. I suspect that they will make quite a pair when the going gets tough.

Likewise her pondering of what to do with the book. Interesting she never considered the keep it herself option, I certainly wouldn't trust Teekeeius with power if I were her. Though she's right that Erana would be worse...

The power you've given the book is good, it's more than just another token to drag around. I wonder if it will rear it's head again in a later story...

[Destri Melarg]

Chapter 25.7

I can never bring myself to turn Chanel in to the Countess. That is another on the long list of reasons why Julian and I are not the same. Like ‘Rosa said there was no doubt which way Julian’s moral compass would steer her in that situation. She also remains resolutely in character during her interrogation grilling dinner exchange with Ashcroft.

I thought it was interesting that Julian (a woman who is currently seeking recommendations into the Mages Guild) would immediately jump to the conclusion that Blanco is cursed because of his link to the Witchmen. I guess old prejudices die just as hard as old habits!

Chapter 25.8

I am so glad that you addressed the thing that always bothered me the most about this quest. That body is burnt to an absolute crisp! One gets the feeling that touching a limb would cause that limb to crumble into dust. But the book, when found on the body, is in pristine condition! You made that book the focal point of this chapter by highlighting its daedric quality. You left no room for doubt in regards to its magical (and therefore dangerous) nature. Given their exchange earlier, I can find no scenario that would see Julian trusting such a tome to the likes of Earana.

[Captain Hammer]

Ah, the unburnt book amongst burnt remains. The others have already commented on the nature of the surprisingly bloody-rare book in the charred-to-a-crisp remains, as well as Julian's decision on the disposition of the book.

I always followed a far more pragmatic path, but I agree with Rosy, without mods (Supreme Magicka, how I love thine blessings), Finger of the Mountain is a worthless spell (for all but a level one character, in which case it actually does have use. Not for long, though).

[ghastley]

A minor point:

I’m not getting it for Earana. I’m getting it for the Mages Guild.

At this point Julian had apparently made up her mind that Teekeeus would get the book. At Cloud Top it was back up for reconsideration, presumably when she found out what kind of book it was, but that led to the same decision. Without a "that changes everything" moment, it left me a bit confused about the sequence, as it wasn't clear on the first read that she chose the same option twice.

Or did Blanco choose the second time around?

[Thomas Kaira]

Well, let's hope Teekeeus doesn't get any nasty ideas with that book involving red rooms and vampires.

Given the power of that text, it always struck me that Fingers of the Mountain was one of the secrets of Tamriel that would have been much better off left undiscovered.

You know, to tell the truth, I'm getting more and more involved in creating mods for this game, and that gives me an idea for a quest mod revolving around that book. Still, I have my fan-fic to tend to, but I think I will have to give that idea a little pondering. It would be nice to see Fingers of the Mountain get treated like a proper forbidden tome.

[haute ecole rider]

It's been a while since I've updated this thread.

Chapter 27 is proving a real bear to write. I think it's going to be the hardest of all of the MQ for me to write. I have more than half of it done to my satisfaction, but I don't want to resume posting until the entire chapter, as Acadian likes to put it, sings.

In the meantime, some of you may have heard that I've installed a new hard drive with Windows 7 into my Intel Mac. It now boots up into W7 as well as Mac OSX, and runs Oblivion flawlessly. So I've been replaying the MQ and loading a few mods here and there as I go along. I've got some screenshots that Julian and I would like to share with you.

Moonlit View On the Orange Road.

All Hail the Dragonborn!

A Legion Rider on his Bob-tailed Nag. (Slof's Horses gives all the Legion riders horses with bobbed tails)

Julian and Blanco on the Gold Coast.

Heading Home.

My favorite screenshot of all is now my Windows desktop picture.

[SubRosa]

I am guessing that Chapter 27 is Sancre Tor?

I loved Heading Home best. I love the way the setting sun hits the water in that swath of orange and red.