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> Jerric's Story, A Nord's Adventures in Cyrodiil
mALX
post Jan 2 2011, 04:13 AM
Post #41


Ancient
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Joined: 14-March 10
From: Cyrodiil, the Wastelands, and BFE TN



Acadian already quoted my favorite line, this shows the detail you add that I've never seen in any other story:

QUOTE

'He selected one of the bedrolls by the process of smell and covered it with a gentle cloud of frost to kill any vermin that might have found refuge there.



I am loving this story !!!


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Jacki Dice
post Jan 2 2011, 04:37 AM
Post #42


Knower
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Joined: 18-March 10



I love this story and I love Jerric!

QUOTE
He hoped that the former owners had simply given up their goods and gotten away with their lives.

he thought that these two fetchers must have specialized in the weak and unarmed.

when he held the jewelry all he could think about was the pain and fear someone must have felt when they gave it up.


He's got such a big heart! smile.gif


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Madness Helps Me Save Myself
Nemesis

Standing on the cliffs that kiss burning winds
We are rising together
Brazen, exalting, a hiss of triumph rings
I am yours
...Yours immortally
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Grits
post Jan 3 2011, 07:00 PM
Post #43


Councilor
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Joined: 6-November 10
From: The Gold Coast



SubRosa: Thank you, SubRosa! Here’s another bowl. smile.gif

Acadian: Thank you, Acadian! I think I’ll name Chapter 5: [gives away big secret] Or not! smile.gif

mALX: I’m glad you like it, mALX! smile.gif Thank you!

Jacki Dice: I’m glad you like him Jackie Dice, here’s some more! I need to play SI so I can read your story!!





Chapter 4: All’s Well in Aleswell, Part 2


Jerric stopped in the Red Road where a path forked off and down to his left. He believed he had climbed to the place where Fort Caractacus lay below, so Aleswell must be a short distance ahead. “Caractacus,” he said out loud. “Caractacus. Aleswell. The ale is well in Aleswell.” He thought he might really worry if he started answering himself. He could hear birds calling to one another in trees to his right, and the sun was pleasantly warm on his shoulders. Still, something seemed to be awry. He looked around and had the feeling that he was not alone. Bandit ghosts passed fleetingly through his mind, but ghosts don’t sound like sheep. When he heard panting and felt a nudge against the back of his knee he yelped a little, and then he felt around in the air with his hands. He felt but still couldn’t see furry upright ears and a cold nose, and when he bent down he reassured himself that ghosts also don’t have dog breath.

“Hail little fellow,” he said in a friendly tone. “What the fetch is going on here?” The invisible dog declined to answer so Jerric straightened and continued up the road, trailed he imagined by a friendly dog and some imaginary sheep. He thought that the dog might have accidentally swallowed some enchanted item, but it seemed too much of a coincidence that a bunch of sheep had, too.

He entered a hamlet and found it to be an altogether charming and empty place. Flowers bloomed around tidy thatched houses, and the grass was cropped short in the way that is easily accomplished by just the right number of sheep. He looked over at a neatly tended garden, and he blinked at the sight of a hoe working by itself between the rows. An excess of enchanted items suddenly seemed more plausible. He opened the gate and entered the garden to get a closer look.

“Hey, do you mind not trampling my crops?” Jerric jumped at the surly voice, but at least he didn’t make a noise this time. He looked down and moved his feet.

“Hail, friend, I’m Jerric,” he said to the hoe. “Is this Aleswell?”

“Shagol gro-Bumph. I expect you have some questions. Talk to Diram in the inn. I'm tired of this minstrel's freakshow our town has turned into."

“Pleased to meet you.” It was easy to guess that the wooden two story building was the inn. Jerric walked over, but before he went inside he stepped between the trees to take in the view he had been enjoying as he climbed up the road. He could see the whole of the Imperial City with its towers and great bridges all the way across Lake Rumare, and if there had not been a haze he might have seen the thread of the Ring Road beyond. He looked around at the plains and distant mountains, and at that moment he wanted to climb every hill just to see what lay beyond it. A summer day such as this was a thing to be appreciated. His heart lifted and he took a few deep breaths before he turned to enter the inn.

He entered expecting to hear a disembodied voice, and he was not disappointed. “Excuse me. We have a small problem that we hope you can help us with. You may be wondering why you can’t see me. We are all wondering the same thing. Everyone in Aleswell suddenly became invisible several weeks ago. It was sort of fun at first, but the novelty has definitely worn off now. You can imagine how difficult it is to run an inn while invisible. Once you get a reputation as a haunted inn, you can just forget about it. So we’ve all been keeping quiet, hoping the spell will wear off. But we’re running out of patience. We’re sure it was Ancotar’s doing, but we can’t find him. If you can help us, we will be extremely grateful.”

The voice sounded highly animated, and Jerric thought that those who could not rely upon gestures or facial expressions must have to fall back on something. It made him tired just to listen to it. “Are you Diram? I’m Jerric. Who is this Ancotar?”

Jerric could imagine him nodding. “He’s a wizard who took up residence in the ruins of Fort Caractacus a couple of years ago. You passed the path down if you came from the east. He’s caused us no end of trouble with his magical experiments, but nothing as bad as this. If he’s still living at the fort he’s hiding from us, and no wonder. If you could find him and get rid of this cursed invisibility, we’d all be in your debt.”

“Fort Caractacus?” Jerric just liked to say it.

“That’s right!” Diram said brightly. “Fort Caractacus. You have a nimble tongue, sir.”

With a tremendous effort Jerric refrained from comment. He was not used to making a favorable first impression, and Diram sounded so excited and happy to see him that Jerric couldn’t bear to disappoint him. “I’ll be back,” he said, and he waved farewell to the air.

“Watch out for the invisible monsters that infest the ruins!” Diram called out cheerfully as the door closed behind Jerric.

He made his way down to the fort unmolested by monsters invisible or otherwise, and after an annoying chase through the ruins he finally cornered the invisible Ancotar and convinced him that he wasn’t trying to sell him something. He listened to a lengthy explanation of Ancotar’s magical doings and began to think he wasn’t so lonely after all. Eventually Ancotar handed over a scroll with a counter-spell, and he also gave Jerric a ring of protection against the counter-spell with instructions so vague and threatening that he almost convinced himself that he’d be better off not wearing it.

Jerric jogged back up to Aleswell just as the invisible residents were being called in for the evening meal. He stood in Shagol’s garden in the center of town wearing the copper ring, and he read Ancotar's scroll in the rosy light as the sun slipped behind the mountains. This must be one of the most pleasant spots in Cyrodiil, he thought. Shouts of joy announced his success, so he headed to the inn past the now visible sheep to join the celebration.

There was a general call to break for long neglected grooming, then the good folk of Aleswell joined together for a party that threatened to send the inn down the side of the mountain. The news of the Emperor’s death had just reached them that morning, but their deliverance from invisibility took precedence over their grief. After all the White Gold Tower was still clearly visible from behind the inn, so it seemed that the Empire hadn’t fallen. Everyone agreed that they were safe in the hands of the Elder Council, and many were prepared to drink to their wisdom.

Jerric was also ready to relax a little, and there wasn’t a man or mer in town who didn’t want to buy him something. He dined, drank, and danced with a complete disregard for safety or personal dignity. Diram offered him a free room for the rest of his life at the inn, and many offered him gear or new clothing, since he had obviously been robbed by bandits on the road and been forced to wear castoffs. An old Breton lady brought him a pair of her dead Nord husband’s well-kept leather boots, and when it was discovered that they were a decent fit, Jerric kissed her full on the mouth amid much cheering. He delightedly and ceremoniously threw his rope sandals into the fire.

When he took a break at the bar, he found himself confronted by two sour-faced Dunmeri women. If he looked beyond their obvious displeasure at everything, he found them both extremely attractive. “Whoa,” he said. He congratulated himself on his nimble tongue.

“You really enjoy this whole hero thing, don’t you? Everybody fawning all over you? Well we’re not like that.”

“I’m Jerric,” said Jerric. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Urnsi, and this is my sister Adosi.” They frowned at him. They were an island of ill feelings amid a sea of jubilation. He began to get an idea.

“Pleased to meet you. It must have been especially hard for you to be invisible for so long.” He looked from one to the other and back again. “Since you’re,” he made a sweeping up and down gesture, “You know.”

“I don’t know,” Urnsi or Adosi said crossly. “Is that some kind of hero talk, because we don’t get it.”

“I mean you’re very attractive,” he said. He leaned against the bar and his elbow slipped off. He caught himself and thought they might not have noticed, and then he realized that a fair amount of his ale had gone onto his trousers. “You must be used to getting a lot of attention. From travelers. Men,” he explained. “I mean you’re better looking than anyone else in town.” Urnsi and Adosi exchanged a look, and Jerric thought he might be on the right path. “You know,” he began, but they had him up the stairs before he could finish his thought.

In the end he retreated behind the locked door of the room Diram had given him. Urnsi and Adosi had been very demanding. He thought they were going to take turns and then pass out, but their thinking seemed to be take turns until the Nord is dead. Jerric had a new respect for all Dunmeri males.

He lay across his forever free bed and looked at the Amulet of Kings in his hand. There had been a bad moment with Urnsi and Adosi when he realized that it was still tied around his waist, but they didn’t seem to mind that he kept his flapping shirt on. He gazed into the great red stone and guessed that the Amulet had seen plenty of action, and he needn’t worry about what it had witnessed that night. He recognized that his thoughts betrayed his advanced inebriation, and he decided that if the Serethi sisters hadn’t tried to drain the life out of him, the rest of the town downstairs probably would have drowned him in alcohol. On that thought he tucked the Amulet away and went to sleep.

By mid-morning an enticing aroma coaxed Jerric from the bed. He suspected that the sun had risen that day with few on two legs awake to greet it. He gathered his things and descended to the common room where he found a number of Aleswellians nursing sore heads and sipping their kahve. He found a pile of supplies that folk had dropped off for him, and among them to his great but quietly expressed joy he found a shaving kit and small stack of very serviceable clothing left behind by some long-forgotten Nord. There was even a worn but still excellent hooded cloak that looked like it had been treated against the rain, he suspected from the old lady who said he reminded her of her late husband. He retired back upstairs to use the washbasin and outfit himself in a manner less like a jester.

He returned to his kahve and sorted through the supplies. With the extra packs he found there he was able to make a camp pack with his food, clothing, and cooking supplies; a day pack for his day’s rations, water, and potions; a shoulder bag with his alchemy supplies and plenty of room for the ingredients that he picked up as a matter of habit; and a large pack with the goods he had looted from the bandits. As he packed the items away he decided to think of it less as loot and more as salvage. He took a light metal pot and a slightly heavier skillet so that he could do some cooking, plus a metal drinking cup and every canteen and water skin that he could find. He tucked the scrolls in with his potions for ready access, and his books went into the camp pack. The bedroll got tied with the cloak and slung across his shoulders. He went outside and practiced shedding his burdens and sliding his shield on to the amusement of the local sheep. He could draw his sword in an emergency even while completely laden, though he was sure his technique would not earn him any compliments.

He left his gear in the inn and made some sprints up the hill to work the kinks out of his muscles. He could feel the difference that a few days without real exercise made, his legs wanted to run. After a breakfast of toasted bread for his sour stomach and a tall mug of Diram’s excellent ale to get his head right again, Jerric was ready to put his feet back on the road.

This post has been edited by Grits: Jan 3 2011, 07:03 PM


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Jerric's Story * Darnandex * Morning Star Screenshot: Cyrodiil Meadow
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Acadian
post Jan 4 2011, 02:31 AM
Post #44


Paladin
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Joined: 14-March 10
From: Las Vegas



Jerric's take on this familiar quest was great fun to read!

This was replete with Jerric's common sense/homespun observations. You once again show his love for the outdoors and some very clever ways of stating and understating things. Just one example of many:
'He suspected that the sun had risen that day with few on two legs awake to greet it.'

So, he is now a hero to this small settlement. About the free bed for life . . . it seems like he is going to have to earn it every times he goes upstairs to sleep? That's what he gets for wagging his nimble tongue around a pair or Dunmeri lasses. tongue.gif


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SubRosa
post Jan 4 2011, 03:40 AM
Post #45


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Excellent descriptions of the hamlet (and how nice to see it is an actual settlement, rather than just three houses!). Also of the invisible sheep, and especially Jerric's meandering thoughts. All are woven together extremely well.

He was not used to making a favorable first impression
This brought more than a faint smile! smile.gif

He gazed into the great red stone and guessed that the Amulet had seen plenty of action, and he needn’t worry about what it had witnessed that night.
If only the Emperor could have foreseen this, I think he might have picked someone else! tongue.gif


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Grits
post Jan 5 2011, 06:06 PM
Post #46


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Joined: 6-November 10
From: The Gold Coast



Acadian: Thank you, Acadian! I love Aleswell, it was fun to give them a party. I’ve always thought that the end of that quest should result in more celebrating. I wonder how the Serethi women will treat Jerric when they haven’t been suffering from lack of attention! smile.gif

SubRosa: Thank you, SubRosa! Jerric’s wandering mind is an important part of his character to me, but I’m never sure if I’ve put too much in or made it break up things too much. I can hear the Emperor’s thinking: Hmm, big and strong, but led by his Johnson. Nope, I’ll give it to the stringy Bosmer. smile.gif

I’m wondering how I’m doing with post length / chapters. How long is too long, and what makes a chapter? For Chapter 4 the bandit camp in Part1 really has nothing to do with Aleswell in Part 2, I don’t have a reason why I put them together. I appreciate any advice!!



Chapter 5: Unloading the Amulet, Part 1

Jerric stood on the Black and Orange Road junction and watched his new friends walk away east. He had met the group of Bretons days ago and introduced himself when it became evident that they were all travelling north toward Chorrol. When darkness fell the three families invited him to camp with them and walk together for the rest of their journey for safety. They moved at the pace of the group’s smallest members, so it had taken them four days in beautiful weather to make the peaceful climb through the Great Forest. He had shown the children how to help him gather ingredients for his alchemy as they walked, and they taught him various handclapping games and how to whistle through his thumbs with a blade of grass. Now the little ones walked backward waving and calling to him as they went to make new homes in a settlement he had never heard of in the Colovian Highlands. He raised his arm in farewell and hoped that some day he would get to see them again. He had told them on the first day that he was going to Chorrol, and now he didn’t want them to see him turn back to the Priory and make it a lie.

He considered his options. He was anxious to get the Amulet to Brother Jauffre and head home. Everyone would be gathering to celebrate his Ma's birthday, and he didn't want to miss it. He needed to pick up her gift first at the Mages Guild, he was sure it would be ready by now. It had cost him a fortune to have it enchanted, but since he spent most of his earnings on training, fines, and women, he thought he wouldn’t miss the coin. Besides, he would give up anything to see his Ma feeling better again. Also he wanted a conversation with Rothmund.

On the other hand he had a pack full of salvage to sell, and he needed provisions. Plus the Amulet was likely to bring up all kinds of questions about Jerric's role in events, and he had found that military types like law enforcement were naturally suspicious. Baurus had heard the Emperor speak to Jerric, but Jauffre might not be so quick to share the Emperor’s trust. The interview might end with Jerric actively avoiding imprisonment, and he would be faster if his pack held coins and sandwiches instead of bandit armor.

It was too much to think about on an empty stomach, so Jerric continued up the road toward Chorrol. The road was busy with all kinds of folk, and he walked with the crowd through the open South Gate where he stopped and caught his breath. Wide stone streets, large attractive buildings, and plenty of greenery met his eyes, but he looked up over all of them in wonder at the snow-covered mountains that rose beyond the city. Even the lofty spire of the Chapel seemed humbled by their presence.

“Can I help you?” asked one of the gate guards, and Jerric realized that he was blocking traffic. He stepped over to the side and asked for directions. Two of the city’s inns were within sight, and he walked over to the more modest looking of them. The sign informed him that he had reached The Grey Mare, and its unassuming wooden exterior told him that a travel worn Nord might be welcome there. The delicious smell of something baking seized him by the stomach, so he entered and found an empty table. He leaned his shield against the wall and began to unencumber himself.

A dark haired male Bosmer heckled him from across the room. "Oh great, another big blonde with a blade. Just what Cyrodiil needs. You're not from around here, are you, square-head?" Jerric slung his loot bag over the back of a chair and thunked his camp pack onto the seat. His day pack went over the back of the chair on the other side. The Bosmer hopped down from his seat and moved toward Jerric's table. "Hey, I'm talking to you, knuckle-dragger." Jerric slid his bed roll off onto the floor. He looked the mer over and didn’t see a blade. He was in the mood for a scuffle, but a knife fight could spoil a whole day. "What brings you to Chorrol, flat-face? Do all of the sheep in Skyrim recognize you?" The Bosmer didn't let up.

Jerric's movements had become slower and more deliberate the longer the wood elf badgered him. He laid his sword, mace, and dagger across the table with exquisite care and stepped away from them, and then he stared down at the Bosmer. "Do you have a death wish, little mer?"

The Bosmer answered by leaping onto Jerric with a shriek. He clambered around to Jerric's back and hooked his heels together around his waist. His arm went around Jerric's throat, quick as a snake. Jerric staggered and grabbed the Bosmer's arm. He turned his head to get a breath, but the Bosmer used the motion to sink his hold even deeper.

Roaring filled Jerric's ears, and his vision began to fade. He tried to flip him forward over his head, but the Bosmer's legs wouldn't let him bend. Jerric couldn't think of a plan. He simply tucked his chin into the Bosmer's elbow and crashed over backward onto him, glancing off of a table on the way to the floor.

When his vision cleared Jerric scrambled to his knees and clutched the little Bosmer, deciding whether to throttle or heal him. The wood elf was pale and still, but when Jerric licked the inside of his wrist and held it over the Bosmer's lips he felt the tickle of breath. Jerric realized that the inn had fallen silent but for the dripping of spilled ale, and he looked up.

A Chorrol Guardsman had entered, and he stood viewing the scene with his fingertips resting on his sword hilt. "Is there a problem, citizen?" he asked Jerric in a neutral tone.

Jerric shifted his grip on the Bosmer to appear more solicitous. "I uh, toppled over, and my friend here was good enough to break my fall," Jerric explained. Now that he thought about it, this was not a good time to get arrested. He smiled at the guard nervously. "Heh, clumsy," he added.

"Drunk and disorderly is no way to spend your time in this fair city, lad," the guard stated. "If you don't believe me, we can see if a visit to the prison changes your mind."

"There's no need, sir," Jerric said hastily. "Besides, I haven't had time to get to that first part yet."

The guard gave him a humorless glare, and Jerric mentally cursed his fool tongue. The other patrons had abandoned their attempts to look busy and seemed to be enjoying the entertainment. "This isn't Bruma," the guard told him. "I won't repeat myself." With a level glare all around, the guard left the inn.

What does he think I did in Bruma, Jerric wondered. I’ve never even been there. The Bosmer opened his eyes, and his expression was blank. Jerric stood and placed the elf on his feet in one smooth motion and took a step back. "I'm Jerric," he said to the Bosmer.

"Maglir," the Bosmer said warily.

"Pleased to meet you." Jerric smiled. "Now show me that thing you did."

Jerric and Maglir righted the mess they had made, and then they went behind the inn and spent some time rolling on the grass. Jerric went back inside with an improved understanding of leverage and a considerable number of grass stains on his clothing. He glanced over to see that his gear was still in place, and then he approached Emfrid, the Nord publican. He had introduced himself when he apologized earlier and asked for a mop, but now he felt he could spare the attention to appreciate her.

Emfrid possessed a cool, ethereal beauty that was somehow not at odds with her plain dress and capable appearance. She had the strong forearms of a baker, and she wore her blonde hair smoothed back and secured with a narrow braid in a style that he admired. Jerric enjoyed a thick-figured woman, but Emfrid was tall and trim in the way he liked best. He saw no spark of interest in her expression when he approached her, so he attempted to match her reserve. Despite his effort, even he could hear the warmth in his tone when he ordered his meal and a drink. At least he was able to keep from openly ogling her. He supposed that he need not wonder why he was such a dismal card player.

Maglir retrieved his mug and hopped up next to Jerric. “You should join the Fighters Guild,” he said, continuing the conversation he had started outside. “They’ll put a roof over your head and coin in your pocket, and you’ll never lack for someone to drink with.”

Jerric hadn’t noticed anyone drinking with Maglir. “I have a job that keeps me busy, plus a Guild membership that eats up a lot of my free time. Thanks, though.”

Maglir nodded at Jerric’s thick, scarred hands. “Let me guess, Weavers Guild?” and they both had a laugh about that. “If you change your mind, talk to Vilena Donton here in Chorrol. I’m assigned to Skingrad, but you can’t join there.”

“I’ve trained some at the Guild in Anvil, but they keep their advanced trainers for Guild members only. I’d love to train with Rhano, do you know him? I learned more watching him spar than I did all morning in training.”

“Never been to Anvil. Join the Guild, Jerric. We’re always looking for new members. You don’t have to take contracts, just when you want to. Sleep and eat for free, then get a contract walking some mage to the library and, ha ha, payday!” Maglir chortled and clunked his mug against Jerric’s. “I have to go look busy. It’ll be back to Skingrad for me soon, I finished my contract and now I’m just riding it out until they notice.” He downed the rest of his drink and trotted toward the door. “Maybe I’ll see you at the Guild some day!”

“Maglir!” Jerric called after him. “Why did you jump on me?”

Maglir’s slanty eyes squinted away to nothing when he grinned. “I didn’t like the way you look. Still don’t, ha ha!” and he was out the door.

Emfrid brought Jerric a plate of ham and baked apples with a hot slice of crusty bread and a small pot of honey. He stayed at the bar for his meal in the hope that she would talk to him, and he was not disappointed. “In Chorrol, we don't think much about what goes on in the Imperial Palace. But these murders... the emperor and all his sons dead... what's next?” she said. Jerric wanted to keep a positive tone, so he asked her what he should know about Chorrol. “The Captain of the castle guard is a Nord,” she told him. “Bittneld the Curse-Bringer. He seems like such a nice fellow. Too bad I don't see him in here very much.”

A grey-haired Imperial man pulled up a stool and set his ale next to Jerric. He was neatly dressed and average in his appearance. The most notable thing about him was the beautifully worked hilt of the sword he was carrying. Jerric thought he would like very much to see the blade. "Hello, my name is Valus Odiil,” the Imperial said. “You haven't seen my sons, have you? They went off to our farm to fight those monsters, and I'm worried about them. You may have passed them on the road, Rallus and Antus.”

Jerric had passed a lot of Imperials on the road. “I’m Jerric, pleased to meet you. I’m sorry, I don’t know if I passed them.”

“They're going to fight off the creatures at our farm down the road from Weynon Priory. The creatures have been attacking us every evening for several days from someplace in the Great Forest. So far they haven’t been able to break into our house, but my boys are resolved to fight these beasts, even if the guards won't. Doesn't matter if it's outside the town walls - it still affects us all. I fear for their safety.”

Jerric didn’t need to look at Emfrid to know that her eyes were on him. “What kind of creatures? Are they animals, or something on two legs? Do they carry weapons?”

Valus described them, and Jerric decided that they sounded like goblins. Valus kept talking. “They expect me to fight with them, but I fear in my old age, I'm not the warrior I once was. Would you... would you go in my place?"

Jerric sighed. He knew he might as well agree now instead of heading down the road and then coming back, but he needed to complete his errand for Baurus first. “I’ll meet you at your farm tomorrow afternoon, if I can. I have business here in Chorrol to finish.” He wondered fleetingly if the Imperial had used his Voice of the Emperor to charm him.

“Somehow I knew you'd do the right thing. I'm supposed to meet them at the farm, and I think I can hold them off until tomorrow. I do hope you can get there in time. I... I need a drink to calm my nerves. Please, excuse me.” When Valus paid for his next ale he also picked up the tab for Jerric’s meal, and Jerric hoped that he wouldn’t end up paying him back with his own blood. He looked across his empty plate at Emfrid and thought how grateful he was for brothels. He had never been tempted to risk his life to impress a prostitute, mostly because he was convinced that it wasn’t possible. “Thank you, Emfrid, the meal was delicious.” She nodded coolly and took his plate, and he sighed again.

As he was gathering his gear, she approached him with a small package. “Pumpkin bread fresh out of the oven, to help you keep your strength up on the road. I’ll be waiting to hear the news from Valus, Jerric.” He tucked the warm loaf into his day pack with a smile at her and headed out to trade some weight for coin.

He wandered through Chorrol completing his errands and enjoying the cool mountain air. He found Chorrol to be a clean, peaceful, and beautiful city. Rasheda at Fire and Steel had been so pleased with their trade that she offered him some free advice on repairing his gear. Upon reflection he decided that he should probably get some training in the art of negotiation. He met Dar-Ma the prettiest Argonian he had ever seen when he was gawking at the Great Oak, and she turned out to be as charming and sweet as her appearance suggested. He took her advice and swapped the rest of his salvage for provisions at her mother’s store. Even the Watch with their oak-embellished surcoats sounded pleasant when they offered the greetings that also served as a reminder that they were watching him. He decided that Chorrol was a place to which he would someday gladly return.

He noted the fading light and checked his coin purse. While his habit might be to seek out a bath and a brothel, his means suggested a bath and a book. He found the bookstore, then the bathhouse, and then he entered the Chorrol Mages Guild.

His nose told him that there would be venison on the table, and he found it accompanied by roasted potatoes and carrots, a great vat of gravy, dressing made of cubed bread mixed with herbs and chopped onions, a bowl of corn kernels that looked like they had been cooked in butter, mashed pumpkin, and enough bread that each diner could have his own loaf. He wondered if he had stumbled upon some local feast day, but when he looked around the table and noticed that his companions were all men of more than average girth, he understood.

Jerric sat next to Teekeeus the chapter head, and he found his conversation comfortable and interesting. He had never had an Argonian friend, and he hoped that Teekeeus thought well of him. When Teekeeus asked if he would like to earn a recommendation to the Arcane University, Jerric genuinely regretted that he didn’t have the time to spend. He and Teekeeus went through Jerric’s alchemy supplies after dinner, and they came up with a trade that provided Jerric with essential potions to restore his magicka and supplied Teekeeus with enough monkshood root pulp to keep him out of the Great Forest for a long time. The Chorrol chapter did not seem to have the number of students and junior members that the Anvil chapter had to do its drudge work and errands.

He did some laundry and hung his linens to dry by the fire, happy that he was alone in the common quarters and didn’t need to apologize for the disarray. The feather bed cradled him in comfort, and he fell asleep thinking that while his nights indoors were sweet, the ones out under a clear sky were even sweeter.

This post has been edited by Grits: Jan 7 2011, 01:31 AM


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SubRosa
post Jan 5 2011, 06:38 PM
Post #47


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From: Between The Worlds



My chapters are usually from 10k-15k words long. When I write, I do an entire chapter at a time. When I am finished I break it up into separate posts of about 1,000 - 2,000 words each, as that seems to be an easily digestible amount for a forum. Usually one entire scene. If I have a scene going longer than that I look for a place in the middle where I can break it into separate posts. Sometimes it can be hard to find a place to break however, and they go longer.

As far as what goes in a chapter, I generally try to keep it a self-contained, miniature story. So it should have an introduction of what is going on, a middle where there is conflict, and finally an ending with a resolution. Oftentimes however I find myself working things in that are unrelated to the overall plot of the chapter, simply because those events are happening at that time.

For example, most of the Last King of the Ayleids was about Teresa finding a tutor in Ayleid history, and the knowledge she obtained. However, I tacked on a few extra scenes at the beginning. One showing Teresa making a deposit at the temple, and the other talking to Simplicia about her love life. Those two scenes were unrelated to the rest of the chapter, but I felt were necessary for the story overall. So I had to put them somewhere. Making each their own chapter felt like underkill, as they were only about 1.5k words each.

Do all of the sheep in Skyrim recognize you?
Zing! That was a good one!

and then they went behind the inn and spent some time rolling on the grass.
Hubba hubba! I did not realize Jerric rolled that way. hawt! wink.gif

A fun encounter with Maglir, showing both what a slacker he is, and that he is at least a bit unhinged as well. I expect this means we will be seeing him in the future?

I see Jerric is also going to go goblin-fighting in the near future. Poor man has not even been to Weynon yet, and already people are haranguing him to fight their battles!


nits:
Plus the Amulet was likely to bring up all kinds of questions about Jerric's roll in events
I think Jerric slipped a Kaiser roll in for dinner there instead of a role to play. wink.gif

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Jan 5 2011, 06:40 PM


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Acadian
post Jan 6 2011, 03:25 AM
Post #48


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From: Las Vegas



I completely echo SubRosa's comments, both on post length and her observations on Jerric's visit to Chorrol.

Jerric's trip to get there was uniquely interesting, and his interaction with Maglir was fun.

'The guard gave him a humorless glare, and Jerric mentally cursed his fool tongue.'
Last time it was Jerric's nimble tongue that got him into trouble. I hope it is not a sharp tongue that he falls victim to next. tongue.gif

'Jerric hadn’t noticed anyone drinking with Maglir.'
Great example of Jerric's command of common sense observation.

'He tucked the warm loaf into his day pack with a smile at her and headed out to trade some weight for coin.'
A delightfully phrased sentence. Almost whimsical in its pleasing clarity and cleverness.

Plenty of hints here for possible entries on Jerric's dance card, including Chillrend, Boots of the Crusader, Dar-Ma, his mother's birthday and of course, Jauffre. Whew! It seems he is at least ruling out the Fighters Guild and admission to the University for now.

A delightful meal at The Gray Mare, some yummy pumpkin bread and a veritable feast at the local mages guildhall. Yum!

Nits? Well maybe. It seems that you may still sometimes get captured by long multi-clause run-on sentences. Take a deep breath, read these and see if you might agree that breaking things into shorter, crisper sentences might be better?

He had talked to the older men and stayed far away from the young women, and when darkness fell the three families invited him to camp with them and walk together for the rest of their journey for safety.

He had absorbed the magicka when he sought out a blessing at the Chapel of Stendarr, and he had viewed the Gauntlets of the Crusader there on the floor and heard their story from an Altmer whose expression hinted that he could smell something foul.



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Winter Wolf
post Jan 7 2011, 01:44 AM
Post #49


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From: Melbourne, Australia



Wow, this is a fantastic volume of writing that you have produced in a month. Please keep it going. smile.gif

The forums are very quiet with this being the year end, but your writing does deserve a strong audience- it is very good. I havent had the chance to plunge into the depth of the characters, so please excuse me while I head back to chapter 1.

I shall be back.


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mALX
post Jan 8 2011, 02:18 AM
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From: Cyrodiil, the Wastelands, and BFE TN



Maglir in his cups was hilarious, especially since he is such a wimp outside the bar - loved that! A detail I loved was the part about Odill using the "Voice of the Emperor" - The dialogue for that quest should include being able to tell Odill off for his cowardice in sending his boys alone because he is afraid - the reason Jerric didn't would have been the spell effect - huge detail I have never seen given on that quest in other fanfics - you ROCKED that !!!


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Grits
post Jan 8 2011, 05:06 PM
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SubRosa: Thank you so much for explaining the way you write chapters. I have been doing the opposite, and I think it shows the most in this last section. Instead of trying to cram a bunch of things in I should write the whole thing and then break it up. Like making a pie instead of cookies. Also I need to follow the advice that you already gave me, and slow down!

We’ll see more Maglir. I don’t think I can keep Jerric out of the FG forever, and I thought it would be more fun if there was history before Jerric had to decide what to do with him. Maglir cracks me up in the game with the whole “Let’s roll, payday” dialog.

Alas Jerric is like a tall person in a grocery store, everyone wants him to reach that jar / kill someone for them. huh.gif

Acadian: Thank you so much for your comments. I went back and removed a few things from those bloated sentences that I think didn’t really need to be there. I should have taken more time with the Chorrol trip instead of telling a bunch of stuff that happened and cramming it all in one post. I’m instituting a one day minimum cooling off period. When I think something is ready, I should wait at least a day and look again! I do not want to rush, and that is exactly what I have been doing. You advised me to slow down before, I’m really going to this time! smile.gif

I’m sure Jerric’s tongue will get him in trouble again, it’s becoming a character all on its own! tongue.gif

Winter Wolf: Thank you so much for your very kind words and encouragement. I am a beginner at this whole thing, and I find myself thinking I hope this doesn’t stink a lot. Your support means so much to me!!

mALX: Maglir makes me think of every random tough guy who wants to fight the biggest guy in the bar as long as there are people around to pull them apart. Then when something bad happens, he scuttles off like a cockroach leaving his girlfriend wetting herself and handing over her purse. I have a tall friend that we nicknamed “The Squirrel Magnet,” because we could be out in the middle of the afternoon on a lovely day and some jackass would always crawl out of the woodwork and start with the “are you looking at my girlfriend” business. Sheesh. Maglir, maybe I’ll think up an ugly death for him. smile.gif Thanks, mALX!!


Chapter 5: Unloading the Amulet, Part 2

The next morning Jerric rose early to get ahead of the crowd on the Black Road. When he saw the sign pointing the way to Weynon Priory, his feet took him there while his mind was elsewhere. He was remembering the hours under the prison and the Emperor’s words to him. Great trees stood along the road, and as he walked he passed through pools of their shade. It was obvious when he reached the Priory grounds. Of the three structures Jerric guessed he would find the Brothers in the Priory house, not the chapel or the small cottage. He knocked on the door, and a monk in a black robe opened it. “Yes? Can I help you?” he said.

“I’m Jerric. I’m here to see Brother Jauffre.”

The monk looked him over, and his face showed no judgment. “Come in, he’s upstairs. Leave your burdens here if you like.”

Jerric dumped his gear inside the door and climbed the stairs. They split at a landing and led to two long lofts, all open to the room downstairs. One side was arranged with beds as a living area, and there was a robed Breton man reading at a very tidy work table on the other side. The man looked up when Jerric approached him, and his expression was composed and alert. “I’m Brother Jauffre. What do you want?” His tone did not invite foolishness.

Jerric decided to get to the point and hope for the best. He planned to take the stairs in two leaps and use surprise to get past the black-robed monk if he had to run for it. He had left the day pack with his potions on top of his gear so he could grab it and get out the door quickly. If he had to run he would leave the rest. “The Emperor sent me to find you,” he said. He glanced around for anything that Brother Jauffre might throw at him. Grandmaster Jauffre, he reminded himself.

Jauffre’s eyes narrowed, and Jerric’s stomach tightened. “Do you know something about his death?” Jauffre barked.

“I was there when he died,” Jerric said, and then he took a step back when Jauffre rose and walked to the railing.

“Prior Maborel, will you excuse us please.” The man downstairs left the house, and Jauffre pinned Jerric with a glare. “You’d better explain yourself. Now.” His voice made Jerric think of a bowstring right before the arrow flew.

“He gave me the Amulet of Kings.” Jerric started to reach for it, then stopped his hand.

You have the Amulet? This cannot be. Let me see it.” Jerric handed it over and held his breath. “By the Nine! This is the Amulet of Kings.” Then the questions started.

Jerric answered quickly and honestly, and Jauffre seemed to believe him. He took the opportunity to ask Jauffre some questions of his own, and he learned that the Emperor had spoken of the Daedric Prince of Destruction Mehrunes Dagon, and that Oblivion was his realm. There was also something about the Dragonfires and magical barriers that he thought he didn’t need to fully understand. The reverence with which Jauffre treated the Amulet caused Jerric to flush remembering his own casual handling of the relic. “The Emperor said you knew where to find his last son,” Jerric said. He was willing to admit that part.

“I am one of the few who knows of his existence. Many years ago I served as Captain of Uriel’s bodyguards,” and Jauffre told the tale of a baby born on the wrong side of the blanket. “Now it seems that this illegitimate son is the heir to the Septim throne, if he yet lives. The Emperor didn’t need you to know about his last heir for you to deliver the Amulet to safety. I expect he chose to entrust you with that knowledge in the hope of your further aid.” Jerric was uncomfortable under Jauffre’s piercing look.

The Emperor had asked him to find his last son, but he thought he might have had enough of this kind of responsibility. “I don’t know if I can help you, Brother Jauffre. I’m long overdue at home, and I’m sure my family is worried about me.”

Jauffre continued as if Jerric hadn’t spoken. "His name is Martin," he said. "He serves Akatosh in the Chapel in the city of Kvatch, south of here. You must go to Kvatch and find him at once. If the enemy is aware of his existence, as seems likely, he is in terrible danger."

Jerric was astonished. "I know Brother Martin!" he exclaimed. "He taught me my first spell for throwing frost, though it was not exactly on the Chapel menu. I was just a lad. To think he is the Septim heir! I’ll talk to him for you, Brother Jauffre, I live in Kvatch. I wonder if he’ll remember me."

Jauffre did not seem surprised by Jerric’s revelation. "I don't have much here at hand, but you're welcome to anything you need. I keep some things here to resupply travelling Blades." He opened the long chest in front of the book case, and the cupboard doors swung back to reveal a rack of weapons. "Take what you need, I think this armor might fit you.” Jauffre picked up a quilted arming doublet with iron plates and held it out. “Can you wear this?”

Jerric put it on and made some adjustments, and Jauffre checked the fit. “It’s not the same as mine, but I can move in it. Thank you,” Jerric said. He repeated the process with greaves and plated boots. He shrugged his shoulders and bounced on his feet, swinging his arms. “Feels a lot better than just a shirt.”

“I know what you mean,” Jauffre said. He was examining Jerric’s short sword. “I can’t do better than this, but I have a claymore if you can use it.”

“I’m still training with one, I’m better with a sword and shield. I don’t see one of those katanas, I guess you don’t hand them out like apples.”

Jauffre snorted. “No, we don’t. Take a look at these daggers, unless you’re fond of your goblin blade.” Jerric held one in each hand, undecided. One was long and thin with a disc shaped pommel, and the other was curved with a basket guard. “Take them both, if you know how to use them.”

Jerric nodded. “Thank you, Grandmaster.”

Jauffre gave him a keen look. “Bow? Mace, axe?” Jerric shook his head. “Shield.” He held out Jerric’s leather shield and a smaller round one.

“No contest,” and Jerric took the round shield. He knew that its curved steel center would be better for deflecting blade strikes. Jaffre nodded in approval.

“Take all of these potions, they will restore your health and magicka. Whatever you have left you can give to Martin, or use on your journey back here.”

“I’ll talk to Martin, Grandmaster, but you should know I have a reputation in Kvatch. Nothing serious, but I don’t think a priest will drop everything and run off with a … me.”

“You must make him understand the danger he is in, and what his life means for the Empire. He knows that the people who raised him were not his birth parents. You saw his father murdered, and his last words were to you. Find a way, Jerric.”

Jerric nodded. “I’ll send word if he doesn’t believe me. No, I’ll send word either way. Running Wolf, that’s my family’s company. I’ll send a courier. If you don’t hear from me, you’ll know something went wrong.”

“There is food in the dining room. Prior Maborel and Brother Piner will also be able to help with your journey. You should speak to them before you go, though the details of your assignment should remain secret."

He went behind the Priory house and practiced moving with his new gear, then he went back in to speak to Brother Piner. He found him seated at the table just inside the front door struggling with a letter, if the balled up sheets of parchment on the floor meant anything. When he saw Jerric he stood and moved to the bookcase. “Here, perhaps you will find this useful. One of the books I saved from my Blades training, before I received the call to serve Talos in another way.” He handed Jerric a book titled The Warp in the West. “You go into danger. Jauffre didn’t tell us more than that, but know that our prayers go with you.”

“Thank you, Brother Piner. If you can spare it, I could really use a map.”

Brother Piner went to the shelves and opened a long box. “Take anything you need,” he said, and he turned his back and walked over to the fire.

Jerric looked through the maps and chose one that showed Cyrodiil and parts of the adjoining provinces. It was large enough to show the details of the settlements and roads, and there were markings that showed elevation. Other than that the wilderness areas were great blank spaces. “If you had to choose between a long route by road or a direct route through the wilderness, which would you take?”

“It depends on how far you’d need to go without provisions, and what kind of danger you expect. The Legion patrols the roads, but people can find you more easily on them. There are all kinds of monsters in the wilderness, but your path would remain secret. Weather can slow you down either way, but the road doesn’t get muddy in the rain. It could slow you down even more if you got injured or lost.”

“Thank you, Brother Piner.”

“I’ve packed some food for you, we are quite used to supplying travelers. You’ll find that everything is ready to eat as it comes out of the pack. Here is a canteen filled with kahve, cold is better than none at all, if it comes to that.” They said their farewells, and he left the house. Jerric had no illusions about becoming a priest, but he would happily have spent more time at the Priory talking to Brother Piner.

Jerric found Prior Maborel standing in the Priory stable. “I know that you are on an important mission for the Blades. Please, if you need a horse, take mine,” he said. The Prior had his hands on a paint gelding, and the horse stood quietly.

“I don’t know when I could get him back to you, Prior.”

“Not to worry. I wouldn’t offer if I couldn’t do without him.”

"I'm not much of a rider," Jerric admitted. "I'm better off on my own feet. What I could really use is a pack animal."

"Flash is trained to carry a pack as well as for riding," said the Prior. “His pack saddle is right here.”

Jerric held out his hand and looked at the sturdy horse. Flash snuffed the hand and gazed blandly back at Jerric. He ran his hand down the horse's neck and gave him a firm scratch on his prominent withers. The horse reached over and wiffled some air against Jerric's chest. "Flash?" he asked dubiously.

"He's as steady as they come,” Prior Maborel said with a smile. “I guess someone got the wrong idea when he was a colt." The Prior watched Jerric groom and saddle Flash then carefully balance the load. The Priory’s Dunmer shepherd came in with a repair hammer for Jerric while he was working, and he returned with extra rope and canvas tarps. Jerric tied them over the packs to protect against any rain. He was grateful for the time he had spent as a lad on the caravan. There was little need for a guard to work with the pack animals, but he had not started off as a guard. By the time he was finished the Prior seemed satisfied, and he clapped Jerric on the shoulder in farewell. "Go with Talos’s blessing. Do not fail.”

Jerric raised a hand in thanks as he and Flash stepped out onto the Black Road south and downhill toward the Imperial City. He decided to stay on the main roads. From Weye they would take the Ring Road south to Fort Virtue, then the Gold Road home to Kvatch. He enjoyed one of Brother Piner’s excellent sandwiches as they walked, and then he shared some carrot sticks with Flash. The horse’s pace was comfortable for Jerric to match. They found themselves passing the other walkers, but Flash’s clopping hooves seemed to make people move out of the way. Flash’s head bobbed up and down gently as he walked, and the sound of his hooves and the creak of leather made the music that Jerric walked to most of the days of his life.

After a time he began to think that he didn’t need to hold the halter rope at all. When he draped it over Flash’s withers and the horse kept walking, he left it there. He tried stopping abruptly, and after a short distance Flash stopped and turned his head to look back at him. Jerric was delighted. He walked along for awhile and then dropped the halter rope to the ground with a “whoa,” and Flash stopped again even though Jerric kept walking. When Jerric came back and picked up the rope, Flash fixed a tolerant eye on him. He had yet to see how the horse would react when they faced a fight, but so far Jerric thought that Flash was a tremendous companion.

He suddenly remembered that they were heading toward a battle with goblins, and he decided that if the Odiils didn’t have a sturdy barn, they would just have to invite Flash to wait it out inside their house.

This post has been edited by Grits: Jan 8 2011, 11:36 PM


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SubRosa
post Jan 8 2011, 11:31 PM
Post #52


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From: Between The Worlds



What a better way to spend a Saturday afternoon than with a tasty bowl of Grits?

Concerning writing mechanics, I think your idea of the day wait is a good one. After I finish my first draft of a chapter (which can take over a week if it is a long one), I do a single redraft of it once a day, for the following four days. The reason I wait a day between drafts is because if I look back at it again sooner than that, the words just blur together and I miss things. I have to clear my cache before crunching the words again. So usually it takes me two weeks to write a chapter, and by the end I have been over it five times.

A lot of the TF I am posting here was already posted before on the Bethesda forums. That is why I have been able to keep up a steady pace of posting every other day here. Because I am not doing that first draft on many of the chapters. I am still doing the normal 4 redrafts on every chapter before posting here though. Partly because things have changed in the TF 2.0, and partly just to find errors that I (and no one else) noticed in version 1.0.

Once I get through the backlog of old chapters my posting rate will slow down here. Probably to at least three days between posts, or four. Possibly with breaks between chapters of a week or two as well. So do not feel in a rush to post. There is no race to keep up.

Concerning what to focus on, and what to gloss over, do not feel that you have to put a tight spotlight on everything that happens. Speaking as a purist, if it does not contribute to the plot somehow, it should not be in the story. So we do not really need to know every detail about the protagonist's day. Since we are not writing to publish here, but for our pleasure, I feel free to ignore that to a large extent. Also my own personal writing is character-driven, rather than plot-driven. So I look to include any scene that helps build my characters. You will have to decide what matters to you, and what does not. Then focus on the important things, and do not worry about letting the rest slide.

Since in many ways Teresa is discovering the world for the first time, I spend time describing those things that are new to her. That both gives me the opportunity to build the world up, and build Teresa's character by her reactions to what she finds. But once she has been there and done that, I do not see any reason to go over the same thing in detail over and over again. For example, I devoted an entire scene to Teresa going to the Temple of Zenithar to open a bank account. I did it to show how banking worked in the world, but also to show how Teresa's socio-economic standing, and her views on it, have changed since she was a street urchin going through the garbage for cast off apples. But I will never bother spending 1.5k words on her going to the bank again. I will just give that a few sentences, or a paragraph at best. If I mention it all all.

Now, enough of my hot wind, and on to your story!

The reverence with which Jauffre treated the Amulet caused Jerric to flush remembering his own casual handling of the relic.
I loved this. At least Jerric did not wipe his rear with it! laugh.gif

a baby born on the wrong side of the blanket goodjob.gif
This is a wonderful phrase!

This is one of the weakest parts of the Main Quest's plot. By making Jerric a resident of Kvatch, and better yet having him know Martin, you have done a good job of sidestepping its weaknesses. Jerric has a real personal stake in things now. For more reason than one. That always makes a stronger story.

Also a nice scene of Jerric gearing up for the future, with well-appreciated descriptions of RL weapons, such as the rondel.

Finally, Flash the paint pack horse! I like the name. Although it does make me think of Flash Thompson from Spiderman.


nits:
I’ll talk him for you
I think your to in between talk and him was frightened off by Jauffre!

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Jan 10 2011, 05:08 AM


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Grits
post Jan 11 2011, 04:12 PM
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SubRosa: At least Jerric did not wipe his rear with it!
Luckily it was not the Parchment of Kings! biggrin.gif

I can’t tell you enough how much I appreciate the time you are taking to help me. In two months I have gone from wondering if it would be fun to write something to really wanting to improve. Thank you so much!!

I had a lot of free time to write at the end of the year, but that’s over for awhile. We’re iced in again today, but the atmosphere indoors is not exactly peaceful. panic.gif



Chapter 6: Going Home, Part 1

By late afternoon Jerric saw the crooked pine tree that Valus Odiil had described, so he and Flash turned down the path it marked. There was an old yellow dog sleeping in front of the first farmhouse they passed just like he had said there would be. Jerric thought that while a map and road signs were more reliable, rural directions given out loud provided far more entertainment. All that was missing from Valus’ instructions was a reference to a landmark that no longer existed, and Jerric suspected that he would have included one if Jerric had been more familiar with the area.

They walked on past abandoned farmhouses and fallow fields until they reached a tidy homestead that Jerric thought must be the Odiil farm. A thatched stone cottage, a small stone and timber barn, and a few walled pastures nestled along the shoulder of a low hill. A split rail fence defined the large field visible above the cottage and barn. “Hail the house!” Jerric called as they approached, and three Imperials popped nervously out into the yard. Jerric saw the family resemblance in their compact frames and round faces.

“Good, you made it!” called Valus, and he introduced his sons, Rallus and Antus. Both wore swords, and Antus wore a look that Jerric had seen on many faces right before he killed them. It was the look of a person who knew that they had overreached themselves. “We haven’t much time. I’ll show you where they come from.”

“Hold on a moment,” said Jerric. “First we need to get my horse to safety. I didn’t have a horse yesterday when we met, but I do now. He belongs to a friend and I don’t want to lose him on our first day.”

“The barn is secure if you bar it from the inside,” said Antus, the younger brother.

“Who’s going to stay inside?” asked Jerric. No one answered. “The house, then.”

There was a burst of objections, and Jerric raised his hand. “We need to get this done, or I move on.” He saw Rallus gather himself in the manner his father had yesterday. “Don’t try your Voice on me, Imperial, or I’ll have to use my Nord power. It’s called my foot in your balls.” Jerric thought that he sounded pretty reasonable.

“I’ll stay in the barn,” said Valus. “Let’s go, bring the horse.”

They got Flash comfortable, and Valus showed Jerric how he would bar the door. “If it gets bad, you can retreat here and I’ll let you in, or you can go in the house and lock it behind you,” Valus told them. Then they walked up to the field, and Valus gave them their plan. He spoke with calm authority, and his voice held none of the fear and shame that had colored it in Chorrol. It seemed that the goblins always came in three groups. One group tried to break into the house, one raided what they could carry out of the fields, and the third raided the barn. The Odiils had always waited out the attacks in the locked house, so they could only tell Jerric what they had seen through the cracks in its shuttered windows. They agreed on the plan, then Valus went and secured himself with Flash in the barn.

Jerric had a good feeling. The light was in their favor, there was plenty of room to move in the field, and the goblins should be coming up from lower ground. He thought that if the Odiil boys had planned to tackle the situation alone, the three of them should do all right. Of course, anything could happen. “You two will be behind me, so if you decide to retreat, you’d better yell and not leave me out here alone.” Jerric said. He looked at each of them earnestly. “Really, don’t do it.” Both brothers seemed ready to fight, and Antus looked like he expected to die. Jerric felt better knowing that neither of them planned to run. “I’ll probably summon a scamp or a skeleton, don’t attack it. Just the creatures. All right? Any last words? Ha ha. Let’s go.” He put out a fist and they bumped it with theirs, and the three of them took their positions in the field.

“We will spill their blood in the name of our father!” Rallus cried. Jerric expected he would feel the tension once he had his eyes on the enemy, but for now it was just another beautiful afternoon. He looked around at the green mountains and the open woodland falling away in front of them. A grassy hill rose up to their rear. The farm was situated on a natural terrace, and Jerric could imagine why the Odiils wanted to stay there. He didn’t think he would make a good farmer, but he was sure he could enjoy the view. He bounced from foot to foot and slapped his arm across his chest to stay focused.

His reverie was interrupted by Antus. “Here they come!” The creatures were goblins as he thought, and three of them ran through a gap in the fence carrying small axes. Jerric slashed through one’s throat, and its arrested strike bounced off of his armored thigh. He turned and thrust his sword into another’s back as it ran toward the Odiils. Rallus stabbed through the last one’s middle, and Antus got his blade wet when he finished it on the ground. Jerric thought that the boys looked suitably riled up and unlikely to run. Rallus pointed his sword and shouted, so Jerric turned to meet the next group.

Four came at them now, and one of them carried a sword and shield. Jerric slowed one down with a frost spell before he summoned a skeleton and closed with the shield bearer. He could see the next group coming up the hill, so he got busy. The goblin thrust his sword toward Jerric’s groin, and he brushed it away with his shield then chopped down through the goblin’s arm. The goblin reeled back screeching, and Jerric looked over to see his summoned skeleton drop his jaw at him over another dead goblin. “Did you see?” he heard Antus shout behind him, and he guessed that Rallus must still be alive to yell at. He shoved the goblin’s shield aside with his own and thrust his sword under it into its belly. He yanked it back out and moved to intercept the next group.

Still no archers, Jerric was pleased to see. He hated getting shot, but even worse was removing the arrow. These four were spaced far apart and coming over the fence, so he guessed that they might have seen him cut through the first group. He summoned a scamp for its ranged attack and started casting frost spells. The scamp cooperated with its fireballs, and one goblin went down smoking while another fell crusted with Jerric’s ice. Jerric and the scamp ran toward the same third goblin, and Jerric had to stand back to avoid the wild leaping and clawing that ensued. He had never seen a scamp fight a goblin before, and he thought that they could teach a lot of Arena fighters something about showmanship. The scamp raised its claws in victory as it disappeared, and Jerric heard Antus shout, “Ha ha, we beat them! Did you see how well I fought?”

Jerric glanced over to make sure that the boys were both on their feet, and then he checked himself for damage. There was a dented plate over a sore spot on his thigh, but he was pleased with his borrowed armor. Overall he felt good. He jogged back over to where the one-armed goblin lay clutching its belly and opened its throat. He rolled his shoulders and looked out at the forest wondering if there would be another group this time.

Valus joined them on the field, and Jerric guessed that since the old man was in charge he could relax. Swords were brandished excitedly as they thumped each other in relief and congratulations, so Jerric gave them some room. “Foul things!” exclaimed Valus. “They deserved the death you brought them.” Valus sounded relieved, and there was a lot in his face that he wasn’t saying. Jerric’s eyes went to Valus’ sword. He still hadn’t gotten a peek at the blade. Valus seemed to read Jerric’s thoughts. “My boys are safe! I can’t thank you enough for sticking with them and helping a foolish old man.” He unbuckled his belt and presented the sword to Jerric. “Please, take this. I won’t be needing it any longer. My battles are over. I plan to live out my days here on the farm in peace and quiet.”

Jerric glanced at the Odiil boys and didn’t see any hard feelings. He guessed they were happy enough to both still be alive. He took the sword and drew it, catching his breath at the magicka that shimmered across the blue blade. “Frost damage,” he whispered reverently, and Valus smiled.

“And weakness to frost. It’s name is Chillrend. It seems fitting that you should have it.”

Jerric nodded his appreciation and put Chillrend away. There was still work to be done, and he could play with it later. “Valus, I must ask you a favor. May I stay in your barn tonight? It will take some time to pick up your field.” Jerric also wanted to get a closer look at the goblins.

“In the house, lad, I’ll go start the meal while you boys finish up. I’ll put your horse in the pasture, I don’t think he even flinched during the fight.”

Valus handed out healing potions, then Jerric and the Odiil boys dragged the goblins down into the woods until Rallus was satisfied that they wouldn’t stink up the farm. There was some loud talk and laughing as they let go of the rest of their tension. When they made a pile against the cottage wall out of the nine axes, two short swords, and shields, Jerric thought that if the goblins had been expecting resistance it could have gone quite badly. He had examined the garments and chest adornments that they wore, but they didn’t tell him anything new.

Jerric cleaned and repaired his equipment, and then he couldn’t stand it any longer. He went behind the barn with Chillrend and spent some blissful time with his new blade. He was sure it was the most valuable thing that the Odills owned, and their willingness to give it up showed him the depth of their gratitude.

The sun was setting by the time they were ready to clean off the sweat and blood. They stood on the hill below the well scrubbing and shouting while Valus poured buckets of cold well water over them. They dried off, and Jerric went to check on Flash where Valus had turned him out to pasture. The two of them walked to the barn in the gray dusk, and Jerric took the opportunity to give Flash a summary of the action. He made his way back over to the cottage by the light from its windows.

Valus had prepared a shepherd’s pie, and the portion he placed in front of Jerric was easily twice the size of the others.’ Jerric thought that probably said a lot about how Imperials view Nords. There was also a giant platter of fresh lettuce, sliced tomatoes, carrots, and radishes. When he saw the blackberry pie Jerric thought that you could not beat Hearthfire for a time to visit a farm. It seemed that Valus did all of his drinking in Chorrol, so they quenched their thirst with clay tumblers of well water. It turned out that the Odiil boys were both older than Jerric, and he attributed their youthful appearance to clean living on the farm with no women to chase and no ale to subsequently drown their sorrows.

They tucked into their meal, and after the first hunger pangs were satisfied Jerric started to work on his curiosity. “Valus, I’m surprised you were going to let your boys tackle this fight on their own. They don’t even have any armor.”

Valus gave Jerric a level look. “I’m going to come clean with you, Jerric, and hope you keep a cool head. I would never have sent them out there on their own. I’ve trained them both, but Antus had never even seen a fight like this until today. I had to find someone like you while we still had some crops and a roof left to live under. When I saw you at The Gray Mare, I did what it took to get you out here. I hope you’ll forgive an old man.”

Jerric put his fork down and looked at Valus. He reached over and thumped his fist into the point of Rallus’ shoulder. “That was for your fa,” and he picked up his fork again. He didn’t want to go back down that path when Chillrend had already closed the gate. “I passed a few farms on the way here, why are they empty? Is it the goblins?”

“Sickness, deaths, people got old or moved on. They’re good homes and land, but I don’t have the hands to work them. It’s a quiet life out here, I guess folks want the excitement in the city. We never had goblins before this year. Now that they know we’re not worth the trouble, I hope they don’t come back.”

“I hope not, too. So if someone wanted to start a farm, they could what, buy one? Lease it?”

“They’d have to go to the Castle for that. We’re County Chorrol out here, though the Chorrol Watch won’t help us. You thinking about doing some plowing, Jerric?”

Jerric choked on his shepherd’s pie and washed it down with some water while Rallus took his revenge pounding him on the back. “No, Valus, I believe I’ll stick to what I know. Although I confess, plowing is never far from my mind.” Antus caught his eye with a silent laugh, and Jerric had to look away to keep his composure. “I traveled with some Bretons, said they were heading to Hope Valley. Have you ever heard of it?”

“Kahve farmers, I’ve heard of it. It’s a fairly new settlement up in the Highlands. Off the Orange Road. I don’t know anything about growing kahve beans, but something about the mountain air makes them better.”

Jerric nodded and tucked the information away in his memory. “What’s that plant you have in the bowl? I’ve never seen anything like that before. Is that what’s making the noise?”

“I don’t know what it is, but it looks like it might be valuable. I’ve shown it around in Chorrol, but no one seems to know anything about it.”

“Draw me a picture, and I’ll show it to a mage I know. I’ll have to send it to him, but he knows every alchemical plant there is. I’d draw it myself, but …” and he held out a hand. “Not really made for a quill.”

“I’ll do better than that. I’ll break off a piece and you can take it with you, leaf and root. It grows well in the pot, it just needs a lot of water. We were thinking…” Valus glanced around as if there might be a spy sitting on the mantle, “we might grow it to sell to mages.”

“I’ll send you what I find out. Odiil Farm, County Chorrol?”

“Add Troll Rock Lane, and that should do it.” He saw the question before Jerric could ask. “There’s a big rock up the lane that someone thought looks like a troll.” He snorted. “Show me a rock that doesn’t look like one.”

“Do you have any books you’d like to swap with me? I have a few I’ve finished.”

The boys looked at each other. “We’ve little use for books out here, but I know there’s one around here somewhere. Oh, here it is.” Rallus reached under a bench and removed the book that had been keeping it level. “Take it, we can use a piece of wood or something.”

The title was The Book of Daedra. “Thank you,” said Jerric. It was an effort not to open it and take a look. He decided not to ask any more questions or make any more comments, or they might end up giving him everything that they owned.

“Do you have The Lusty Argonian Maid?” asked Antus.

“I did but I traded it already.”

“Do you remember any of it?”

“Sure, I remember. Do you want me to tell you?” and Jerric told the story of Crantius Colto and his maid Lifts-Her-Tail. Then the Odiil boys repeated it, acting out the voices. Jerric thought that they were pretty entertaining, but it would have sounded better with some ale.

The time had come for Jerric to decide if he wanted to share his air with three other men or one flatulent horse. He looked around the small cottage and decided on the horse. Valus sent him off with a lantern and a spare key and told him to come in as early as he liked to start the kahve. Jerric wished them all a good night.

This post has been edited by Grits: Jan 11 2011, 05:23 PM


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SubRosa
post Jan 11 2011, 05:19 PM
Post #54


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rural directions given out loud provided far more entertainment.
Indeed they are!

I’ll have to use my Nord power. It’s called my foot in your balls.
I love this! laugh.gif

Excellent description of the Odill farm on its terrace. Followed by a rousing description of the battle with the goblins. The entire scene with the Odills was excellent. You really brought the little farming family to life in their interactions both before, and especially after the battle.


nits:
It that what’s making the noise?
I think those goblins swiped your is, and replaced with their it.


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Acadian
post Jan 12 2011, 04:12 AM
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From: Las Vegas



The famous scene with Jauffre! You did it justice. I was impressed by Jerric's patience. Buffy angrily replied to Jauffre's grilling with, "You're not the boss of me!" as she stormed out. I guess Jauffre wised up with dear Teresa, simply trying to reward her and send her on her way. Looks like Jauffre found a 'keeper' with Jerric though. tongue.gif I thoroughly agree with SubRosa that your choice to make Jerric a resident of Kvatch made this work beautifully.

The fight at the OK Odil corral was extremely well done. Your pacing and level of detail was just right. Heart pounding without bogging down. Wonderful use of summons as well.

Jerric's view regarding taking care of his new friend Flash surely endears him to me. You can tell a lot about how a person interacts with an animal - and in this case, all of it good!

Such a wonderful touch: Jerric, Nord, frost, mage . . . Chillrend! One of those slap my forehead moments!

Delightful 'fleshing out' of the Odil family as well. smile.gif


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Jacki Dice
post Jan 12 2011, 08:11 AM
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QUOTE
“Don’t try your Voice on me, Imperial, or I’ll have to use my Nord power. It’s called my foot in your balls.” Jerric thought that he sounded pretty reasonable.


rollinglaugh.gif OMG! That was priceless!

QUOTE
“No, Valus, I believe I’ll stick to what I know. Although I confess, plowing is never far from my mind.”


wink.gif Oh my laugh.gif

Very nicely done. Like others have said, you brought the family to life wonderfully smile.gif


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Madness Helps Me Save Myself
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I am yours
...Yours immortally
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Grits
post Jan 14 2011, 04:35 PM
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SubRosa: I waited to finish this part until I could hear them all talking. It was much more fun than the paragraphs of description I started with. Thank you, SubRosa!

Acadian: Lucky for Jauffre that Jerric is on his way home, otherwise he might have to go for a walk himself. I remember when Buffy told Jauffre off, that was impressive! Thank you, Acadian!

Jacki Dice: If he ever has to talk to a Count or Countess, let’s hope they don’t mention plowing. Thank you, Jacki Dice!


So, I tried something different here with some flashbacks/remembering. I would love advice on how I could handle it more gracefully! smile.gif


Chapter 6: Going Home, Part 2

Jerric stopped walking and tried to squint through the mist over Lake Rumare. It had rained for days through the Great Forest, finally stopping when he and Flash turned onto the Red Road. His Aleswell cloak had kept him dry from the outside, but his sweat soaked through everything from underneath. There were a number of intersections and roads in this area on his map, and Jerric didn’t know which one to take. An Imperial man appeared out of the fog, leading a donkey and cart. “Is this the way to Weye?” Jerric asked.

The man kept up his pace. “You missed it. Follow me, I’ll put you on the right path.”

“Thanks.” Jerric and Flash turned and fell in step behind the cart. “Is there an inn?”

“The Wawnet Inn, you’ll walk right by it. Fellow across the road has a stable.”

It was full dark when they stopped outside the Wawnet Inn, and they were both ready to sleep. Jerric listened to the tavern noise without enthusiasm. A short Breton man hobbled out from the cottage behind them and offered a non-traditional greeting. “You know, stranger, there comes a time in every man’s life when he has to admit that he’s lost the fight. Well I’ve fought, and I’ve lost. Who did I lose to? Who is my great enemy? Well don’t laugh, it’s a bunch of damn fish.”

Jerric could usually find the humor in a situation, but not tonight. “I’m not laughing,” he said. “If you let me and my horse sleep in your stable, I’ll listen to your story. Maybe I can do something for you in return. I’m Jerric.”

The man was Aelwin Merowald, and he needed a dozen Rumare slaughterfish scales. Jerric said he’d get the details in the morning, and he and Flash retired to the empty stable.
___


Jerric stood ankle deep in the water at the edge of Lake Rumare, blood and water streaming down his skin. His hair was in his eyes, and his soaked drawers did not want to stay up. I am fighting a fish with a sword, he thought, and it is winning. The fish thrashed over the lake's surface, trying to get at him again. Its wicked teeth gleamed in the morning sun. 'Slaughter' fish, he thought. That should have been my first clue. I need a new plan. He thought back to his time in the Anvil Mages Guild, remembering one day in particular.

He sprawled across the bed with his arms and legs flung out in every direction, gazing up at the coffered ceiling. Warm light slanted through the deep set window. His eyes were heavy, and his breathing was becoming slow and deep. Abiene had slipped back into her robe, and now she stepped around the room picking up the clothes that she had carelessly pulled off of him. "Wake up!" she said, and she tugged his leg off the edge of the bed. His foot thumped on the floor. He was not inclined to stir. "Jerric! You have to get up. There is no way they are going to believe we spent all afternoon studying restoration." Her dark eyes flashed with annoyance. "I'll have to teach you another spell in a hurry."

Jerric had lifted his head. "The water breathing one.”


Now he hoped he could remember it.
___


Jerric strutted into Weye triumphantly with his sword in his hand and the great fish slung over his shoulder. He gathered an increasing crowd of the village’s old and young trailing behind him as he went. He strode to the work table in Aelwin’s side garden and proudly thumped the fish down. “Aelwin!” he called.

He grinned around at the circle of his new friends. Flash stood behind the thatched cottage knee high in clover, hipshot and chewing. Flash did not seem impressed by Jerric’s achievement. In fact, most of the folk who now leaned against Aelwin’s stone fence were not looking at the fish. He laid his sword on the table and hiked up his sodden drawers, retying them. Now he thought they might pay attention.

Aelwin hobbled around the side of his house. “Look at you,” he crowed, “you got one!” Aelwin stood beside Jerric and viewed the fish.

“I cut him up a bit, but there are way more than a dozen scales left on him.”

Aelwin reached up and thumped Jerric’s back with his gnarled hand. “A dozen fish, lad. The scales from a dozen fish.”

Jerric’s stomach dropped. He had planned to walk all day and not stop until his feet were on the Gold Road. On the other hand, he had a few extra days before he was late for his Ma’s party, and his laundry could use some more time in the sun. He might as well help this man as loll around in some brothel in Skingrad. Maybe he would have time for both. He looked around at the villagers and decided to keep fishing. He had to admit to himself that the inviting smile on one young Breton woman’s face had some influence. He looked over at Aelwin. “Do you have a big hook or something I could borrow?”

Aelwin gave him a gaff hook, and Jerric went back to work.
___


This time Jerric returned with a fish over each shoulder. He had left his sword with his clothes back on the sandy shore in the solemn keeping of two nine year old Weye girls. The boys who were keeping him company would surely have killed each other with it before he was out of sight, but the girls had them intimidated in the mysterious way of all females.

He dropped the fish on the grass next to Aelwin’s table. Aelwin was elbow deep in fish blood, and the smell was impressive. “What are you going to do with the meat?” Jerric asked. He was feeling a little hungry.

Aelwin shrugged. “The boats have already gone to today’s market,” he said. “I guess we could dry it, but with the coin I get from the alchemist, I don’t ever intend to eat another fish!” He cackled with glee.

Jerric looked around. Most of the village was hard at work, but enough folk had the leisure to stand around watching and gabbing. “Let’s have a cookout,” he said to them. His suggestion was well received. Before they all scattered to make their preparations, he had one more request. “Does anyone have a handcart I can borrow?”
___


Jerric rested his feet against the lake bottom with his knees bent and his short sword ready. He could see the massive fish approaching him, drawn by the blood leaking out of his arm. The spell that turned the water in his lungs into air also let him see under water, and timing its re-casting claimed part of his attention. He could not let his spell or his magicka run out and leave him blind with his lungs full of water.

He carefully adjusted his sword as the fish angled for its attack. The strike would be too fast for him to see, and he had learned that gaffing the fish before he got his blade in would cost him a great deal of pain. He was lucky this time, and his sword went into the great jaws and out beside the dorsal fin. He jabbed the hook into the fish’s flailing side and dug his heels into the lake bottom, dragging the fish along with him as he backed out of the blood clouded water. Experience had also taught him to exit the lake before another fish came along to take a bite out of him.

He thrashed onto shore dragging the fish and threw it away from him. His sword arm was chewed again, but this time the blood was just flowing out instead of shooting into the air. He healed it a little and carefully approached the fish to make sure that this one was really dead. With their great lidless eyes it was hard to tell. This one was finished, he decided, so he heaved it into the barrow with the others. The boys were waiting to push it back up the hill to Aelwin for him. “Go ahead lads, I’ll be up in a moment.” His entourage now included several girls who were old enough to be too curious for his comfort. “You too, I’m taking a break,” he said to them. He was not a shy person, but he intended to clean up and get dressed, leaving his drawers drying on the bushes. He was sure that he had already provided the town with enough gossip.

Jerric executed his plan and entered the Wawnet Inn in search of a late lunch. He turned down the short flight of stairs into the dimly lit common room and stared at the innkeeper in frank admiration. He had never felt attracted to an Altmer before, and he was suddenly aware of his disheveled state. Her smooth hair and skin looked gilded in the candlelight. At least I washed off the fish slime before I came in here, he thought.

"Welcome to the Wawnet Inn, traveler," she said. "I am Nerussa. Could I interest you in a room or perhaps a bit of wine?" Her low-pitched voice made him think of firelight on velvet.

Jerric folded his hands in greeting. "I'm Jerric. Pleased to meet you." There was a moment of silence. The inn was empty, as it was the middle of the afternoon. Eventually he remembered why he was standing there. "I'd like a meal, please," he said, "if it's not too much trouble."

Nerussa offered him fish soup in a creamy tomato base with a round, crusty roll. She served him at the counter with languid grace, and then she kept him company while he ate. He caught her scent, subtle and spicy. "I saw you bring in the first slaughterfish. You were injured," she observed.

"I guess it’s easy enough to find trouble but too hard to stay out of it. I learned to heal myself."

"Aelwin mentioned that you are an adventurer. If you know how to heal, how did you come by that scar?" she asked with a smile. Maybe it was the honey in her voice, but for the first time the question didn't rankle.

"Minotaur," he said. Nerussa waited, so he continued. "I was working with an archer. The minotaur caught her in the belly with its horn. Pulled her guts out onto the road." Nerussa's smile faded. "I used up all my magicka trying to heal her, so I got to keep this." Jerric pointed to his brow. "Seems like there are never enough potions, even on a caravan." I'm talking too much, he thought.

Nerussa folded her elegant arms on the counter and changed the subject. "You might have noticed my display as you entered. I am quite fond of collecting all manners of wines from all over Tamriel. But one vintage continues to elude me: Shadowbanish Wine. How I would love to add it to my collection.”

“I’ve never heard of it, but I don’t know much about wine.”

“Shadowbanish Wine is so rare because it was only made in one small batch. It’s the product of a vintner who was also an alchemist. Besides tasting incredible, the magic within the wine allows the imbiber to be gifted with Night Eye! The vintner made it special for the Legion soldiers posted at the forts when they were active long ago. It was perfect for keeping lookouts warm on cold nights and helping them see better in the dark. Isn’t that clever?”

“He must have been skilled. I don’t think I’ve ever made a potion that didn’t taste disgusting. I wonder what Shadowbanish Wine tastes like.”

“Oh, it is far too rare for anyone to actually drink it. Say, that gives me an idea."

With that voice she could ask me to do anything, and I would consider it, Jerric thought. This may be the most dangerous female I have ever met. He gave her his attention while he spooned up his soup.

“It seems you’re not afraid to put yourself at risk. If you can retrieve six bottles of Shadowbanish Wine, I’ll gladly pay you well. I cannot tell you exactly where to find them. All I know is that bottles can sometimes be found in fort ruins all over Cyrodiil.”

Jerric finished his meal and pushed back his soup plate. "I'll keep an eye out for it, if I’m ever in a fort ruin." He would need a better reason than coin to go back under ground, but he thought it was in the realm of the possible.

"Is there anything else you want before you go? Anything you need? I might be able to assist you." Nerussa's eyes were golden in the inn’s light, and her smile made him think of a long life filled with secrets. He had to catch three more fish for Aelwin, and he didn’t want to spend too much more daylight before he got them. There was something that he needed, but he hesitated to ask. He looked across the counter at Nerussa.

"I could really use a haircut," he said.

This post has been edited by Grits: Jan 14 2011, 05:56 PM


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SubRosa
post Jan 14 2011, 05:34 PM
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I bet Aelwin tricks everyone who passes by with that line of his!

On the subject of flashbacks, most people put them all in italics, so it is clear to the reader what is taking place in the past, and what is in the present. If it is a small flashback, you do not even have to section it out. If you have an entire scene then you should put dividers up around it, the same as with any other change of scene. In your case I would just italicize that paragraph with Abiene.

Which brings me to Abiene. So she rode the white horse!

In fact, most of the folk who now leaned against Aelwin’s stone fence were not looking at the fish.
Doh!, and now all of Weye is looking at his horse!

Her low-pitched voice made him think of firelight on velvet.
I love this description. In fact, I love the justice you do to Nerussa, she of the seductive wines.

I guess it’s easy enough to find trouble but too hard to stay out of it.
Sounds like the words Jerric lives by!

With that voice she could ask me to do anything, and I would consider it, Jerric thought.
Yep, just like she hooked Teresa! laugh.gif



nits:
Nerussa offered him fish soup in a creamy tomato base with a round, crusty roll. She served him at the counter with languid grace, and then she kept him company while he ate. He caught her scent, subtle and spicy. "I saw you bring in the first slaughterfish. You were injured," she observed.


"I guess it’s easy enough to find trouble but too hard to stay out of it. I learned to heal myself."


"Aelwin mentioned that you are an adventurer. If you know how to heal, how did you come by that scar?" she asked with a smile. Maybe it was the honey in her voice, but for the first time the question didn't rankle.


"Minotaur," he said. Nerussa waited, so he continued. "I was working with an archer. The minotaur caught her in the belly with its horn. Pulled her guts out onto the road." Nerussa's smile faded. "I used up all my magicka trying to heal her, so I got to keep this." Jerric pointed to his brow. "Seems like there are never enough potions, even on a caravan." I'm talking too much, he thought. Nerussa’s silence gave him too much time for remembering.

You have some extra spaces between your paragraphs here. This can happen from time to time when copying and pasting into the forum.


The archer’s name was Feleri. She had been a tireless and joyful hunter, always the first to make a joke and the last to give up teasing. Her ash-gray skin and charcoal hair made her nearly invisible at night. The few times she had joined him in his bedroll she had twisted them into knots that he could never have imagined on his own. She died kicking in agony because he had frantically tried to put her back together instead of simply giving her some peace. He felt her shadow rising up to darken his mind, bringing others with her. He stared into his bowl and made himself remember it as if it was a sad story in a book.
This paragraph seems to be more telling than showing, and feels forced into the story. You might to consider taking all, or most of it out. Or rewording it to make feel more natural.



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haute ecole rider
post Jan 14 2011, 06:35 PM
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First let me say that I've been reading this story from the beginning and enjoying it immensely. I find myself liking Jerric a great deal.

Now on to more immediate matters. I really enjoyed your unique take on the "Go Fish" quest, as well as the start of the "Shadowbanish Wine" quest. Your tongue-in-cheek approach is oh, so delightful, and Jerric thinks like most men I know!

SubRosa already picked out the parts I liked the best, so let me just add that your inclusion of the local kids (leaving his sword with a couple of girls, the growing entourage including tweenie girls that are curious about you-know-what, etc) really shines! Good thing I had put my tea down before reading this!


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Acadian
post Jan 15 2011, 03:21 AM
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I read this after you worked in SubRosa's comments.

I must say I thought your flashback to Abiene was very well-done, evocative and fit perfectly where and how you used it.

"I cut him up a bit, but there are way more than a dozen scales left on him.”
Doh!!! As soon as I read this, I figured what was going to happen, and you did not disappoint.

Jerric had a great idea here: A fish cook out!
Jerric had a dumb idea here: When the Altmeri goddess of passionate seductiveness asks if there is something you would like, asking for a haircut tops the list? laugh.gif Seriously, I loved the way you ended this!

A very fun interlude in Weye!


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- Lo-Fi Version Time is now: 22nd July 2019 - 04:49 AM