Old Habits Die Hard Part Four, old habits really do die hard Options

[Destri Melarg]

Chapter 19.5 Sir Mazoga
Mazoga hints at a past spent learning from the steward of Castle Cheydinhal. That would seem to imply more than a passing knowledge of court politics. Her assessment of Julian’s chances for success on her behalf probably comes from bitter experience. Now you have me wondering at the chain of events that led to her splitting chests of gold with Black Brugo. I doubt that Naspia Cosma approved.

And what is it with the maddening inactivity of female guard captains in this story?! It’s a wonder that the Imperials have an Empire at all! Given the capability and competence that they display in your writing, I hope you can forgive me for wondering why Black Marsh isn’t the seat of the Empire.

Chapter 19.6 Mazoga’s Mission
When Julian tells Mazoga that she will pay for the dinner I thought to myself, ‘Uh Oh!’ It turns out that, despite the gruff tone and manner, Mazoga is capable of a form of diplomacy. I am sure that she can eat far more than she just demonstrated.

In a place as notorious for bigotry and racism as Leyawiin, it is surprising to see that Orcs occupy a lower rung on the social ladder than Khajiit or Argonians. Maybe it’s just me, but belligerence toward an individual capable of facing down three flame atronachs doesn’t seem wise. Witseidutsei (now that is just a fun name to type) had better be careful not to let her mouth write checks!

[mALX]

or perhaps jealousy? She certainly is paying a lot of attention to Julian!

I have to agree with Sage Rosa, Alves' interest seems pretty poignient. And it could be jealousy thinking Mazoga has bagged the goodies (goodies being Julian)

If she lets her guard down, Alves will probably jump at the chance to comfort her...!

Julian needs to sleep with one eye open...or not!

[treydog]

The interactions of your characters are a joy to watch- again. And the practical uses you find for a world where magic works add tremendous depth and realism. As does the food- fresh bread and meat pies- perfect for a rainy afternoon in Leyawiin! And let me add my appreciation to those who have already noted the clever way you explain why Mazoga wants to see the Count. There is such a wealth of characterization in that deceptively complex bit of writing. Complex- but you make it appear simple.

[haute ecole rider]

@SubRosa: That was the one thing that niggled me the most about Mazoga - why the heck does she want to see the Count for?? After some mulling, I decided it’s because she didn’t know how to go about finding someone she’s never met.

@Acadian: Yes, Julian has taken Mazoga under her wing, for the time being. It’s not the first time she’s done that, though when I think about it, this may be the first time her readers are seeing that aspect of her nature.

@Destri: I think Uvenim is merely echoing the common stereotype in her comment about the Orc. In my experience, such racism (and many other forms of prejudice) come from ignorance, not from real experience. I suppose that’s why Julian doesn’t see Mazoga that way, because she knows from experience that they clean up just fine! As for Caelia, Julian will encounter her again before this chapter ends.

@mALX: Are you perhaps projecting? I thought Alves was just happy to have someone else to talk “chick” with, considering how batty old Dagail is, and how busy Agata is.

@treydog: Thanks for the compliment. Complex is right - it’s getting to be a challenge keeping all the details straight! But I love it, and I ain’t settling for simple!

I love Weebam-Na for his unique dialogue. As an amateur foodie, I get a kick out of asking him about Leyawiin. Every. Single. Time.

**************
Chapter 19.7 Weebam-Na

Though I started my day early, rising before the sun at the Mages’ Guild chapterhouse, Mazoga was ready when I arrived. Apparently she had visited The Dividing Line, for she wore her freshly-repaired armor. The Orcish design shone softly in the morning light, an indication of the polishing Tun-Zeeus had lavished on it.

As soon as I reached North Way from Chapel Street, she waved at me from the porch of the Five Claws Lodge. “Hail, Julian!” she called, stepping down to the cobblestones without using the stairs. I eyed the gleaming armor.

“Are you expecting trouble, Sir Mazoga?” I asked wryly.

“I hope to be heading to Fisherman’s Rock this morning,” Mazoga responded heartily. “Better safe than sorry!”

“In that case, I’d better stop and pick up my own gear,” I commented, turning for the smith’s shop. Mazoga fell into step beside me. I wonder if she learned more than just blade-work. She certainly thinks like an adventurer, always ready for anything that may come her way. Or is she planning trouble for someone? Ah well, I did promise to help her.

*************
Consistent with the Black Marsh origin of his name, Weebam-na turned out to be an Argonian. Tall and muscular in a thin flaxen shirt and linen trousers, he exuded the quiet confidence of an experienced hunter. He eyed us warily as we approached the stoop in front of his home, his gaze lingering on our armor and weapons.

“Are you Weebam-na?” Mazoga spoke brusquely by way of greeting. The Argonian’s eyes narrowed at her, his temporal spines rising to vertical, much like the hackles on a wolf.

“Who wantss to know?” he hissed. I stepped forward before Mazoga responded.

“Good morning, sir,” I kept my tone quiet. “I am Julian of Anvil, and this is Sir Mazoga. She has been looking for you.”

Weebam-na turned his orange gaze on me. “Ssir Mazoga?” he repeated. As the Orsimer drew breath to object, he glanced at her. “Why are you looking for me?”

“I need you to take me to Fisherman’s Rock.” I could sense Mazoga’s barely suppressed indignation. Unfortunately, so could the Argonian hunter.

“Why?” his tone took on a challenge.

“None of your business!” Mazoga exclaimed curtly. “Just take me there!”

Weebam-na turned his shoulder toward the Orc in a gesture of dismissal. “If you won’t tell me why, I won’t take you - anywhere.” He entered his house, the closing door an unmistakable end to the incipient confrontation. Mazoga turned to me, her black eyes snapping with anger and frustration.

“Wait by Best Goods and Guarantees,” I told her quietly in my firmest pilus voice. “Let me handle him.”

She snorted and stomped away. I watched her go with a shake of my head. She needs to learn tact and manners. Not everyone likes the direct approach. I stepped onto the creaking porch and knocked softly on the doorframe.

“Go away!” A hissing voice sounded from inside. I tapped again.

“It’s me, Julian,” I called before Weebam-na could respond again. “I’d like to speak to you a moment, please, sir.”

“Iss sshe gone?” Weebam-na’s voice slipped through the cracked panel.

“I sent her away,” I kept my tone quiet. “Please, sir, it’s important.”

After another moment, the door squealed open, and Weebam-na looked out at me. He scanned the street beyond, then stepped out to stand beside me.

“How can you put up with that?” The anger was still evident in his tone, but Weebam-na’s temporal spines had eased down again.

I shrugged. “She’s no worse than the instructors I had in the Legion,” I replied. “At least she doesn’t hurl insults as liberally as they did, sir.”

Weebam-na shook his head. “We’re not the Legion here,” he muttered, turning his gaze away from me.

“No, you’re not, sir,” I agreed. “Nevertheless, we need to know where Fisherman’s Rock is.” I caught his glance at me. “And no, I don’t know why it’s so important to Sir Mazoga. She has her reasons, I suppose.”

“And why are you with her, then?” The Argonian faced me, his gaze raking up and down my frame, taking in the Kvatch Wolf on my chest and the weapons I carried. “Why iss the Hero of Kvatch wassting her time with an uncouth Orc?”

“She may be uncouth, sir,” I responded. “But she is brave, and she honored her side of the deal she made with me. Thanks to her, no daedra reached Leyawiin’s walls while I was in the Deadlands.” Weebam-na’s brows rose over startled eyes at my words. “I’m just fulfilling my side of the arrangement, sir.”

Weebam-na shook his head. “I had heard you clossed thosse two Gatess east of town, but -” his voice trailed off. He drew a deep breath. “Very well, ma’am. Fisherman’ss Rock iss on the east bank of the Niben River, about ssix hourss’ walk north of here.” His gaze sharpened on me. “Do you know where Fort Redman iss?”

Reluctantly I recalled my quest for Sheogorath’s artifact. “Opposite the Stendarr wayshrine south of Bravil,” I answered, swallowing down the shame I still felt over my actions there.

“Yess, that’ss right,” Weebam-na nodded. “Fisherman’ss Rock is just ssouth of there. You’ll recognize it by the big bonfire. It’ss a bandit camp, sso be careful.”

“Bandits, huh?” I felt my brows lift at the information. Wonder what Mazoga wants with bandits? “Thanks for your help, sir.”

“Not a problem, ma’am.” Weebam-na turned back to his door. He paused and looked at me. “By the way, have you sseen any ratss around here?”

“Rats?” I shook my head. “Not that I know of. Why?”

“They’re making me crazy,” his tone turned complaining. “Every time I kill one, there’ss ten more running away!” He let a frustrated hiss escape between his teeth. “Ssome guy decided to open a fancy restaurant and make a fortune. He wass going to sserve all kinds of fancy rat dishess.” His eyes rolled to the morning sky above us. “Rat in cream ssauce. Rat flambé. Rat bouillabaisse. Rat in marssala wine ssauce. Rat aglio et olio. Get the picture?”

My stomach growled as my lips twitched. Be quiet, you just had breakfast. “Yes, sir, I do. What happened?”

“When the Guard found out, they ran hiss ssorry butt right out of town. But they left all the ratss!” Weebam-na shook his head.

“Seems like you have your work cut out for you, sir.” I nodded at him. “Good luck catching all those rats.”

“Good luck with that Mazoga yoursself!” Weebam-na called after me as I stepped off his porch.

I found Mazoga waiting impatiently in front of Best Goods and Guarantees. “Well?” she demanded as soon as I reached her.

“I know where it is. It’s -”

“Good!” Mazoga interrupted me. “Take me there!”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “It’s on the opposite bank of the river,” I continued evenly. “About six hours north of here.”

“Take me there,” Mazoga repeated. She began shifting her feet under my steady stare. “Now!”

“If you had a mother, she would have taught you the magic word,” I said quietly, resisting the temptation to put my hands on my hips much as my own mother used to do. Her black gaze snapped at me. “That one word can make life so much easier for you.”

Mazoga tipped her head to one side, considering my words. “What word is that?”

“Please.” I held her gaze with mine. She scowled fiercely, and my right hand twitched toward the hilt of my katana. Akatosh! She’s really going to fight me over one word?

Her Orcish cuirass rose and fell impressively with her deep breath. “Please, Julian, will you take me to Fisherman’s Rock?” While not quite contrite, Mazoga’s tone was considerably less brusque than usual.

“All right,” I nodded acquiescence. “I’ll take you there.”

[SubRosa]

his temporal spines rising to vertical, much like the hackles on a wolf.
A good piece of description that lends realness to the Argonian.

I don't blame Weebles-Wobble for slamming the door in Mazoga's face, so to speak. She can really be a bear when you first meet her. Hopefully some of Julian's tact will rub off on our self-proclaimed knight, starting with that magic word. Mazoga really does make quite the contrast with Julian. One really sees the depths of our Redguard's people skills when compared to Mazoga's total lack in that department.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Oct 21 2010, 03:24 PM

[Acadian]

Great fun! Leyawiin is quite an interesting place. I don't think I would want to actually live there, but it is a great place to visit and adventure.

I see Julian still smarts from that rascal Sheo too. When Weebam na talked about the rat problems, I thought perhaps Julian was going to offer him some Borderwatch rat poison to use. Lol.

I said quietly, resisting the temptation to put my hands on my hips

Arghh! How does she do that? Buffy never can resist that temptation; those hands just automatically plop to her hips. Once again, Julian's experience and wisdom shine through as she even coaxes the magic word from between Mazoga's fangs.

So, it's off to Fisherman's Rock. I'm glad both ladies have their gear in good repair.

[mALX]

My favorite part:

Rat in cream ssauce. Rat flambé. Rat bouillabaisse. Rat in marssala wine ssauce. Rat aglio et olio. Get the picture?”

My stomach growled ... Be quiet, you just had breakfast.

GAAAAAAH!!!!!! EW!!! We'll have to make sure Ocato invites Julian for some of his special Rat Surprise Stew !!!!

Great job with Weebam-na, you have captured him perfectly! (And of course Mazoga)!

This post has been edited by mALX: Oct 21 2010, 03:36 PM

[treydog]

Seems Sir Mazoga is not the only one who is as determined as a boulder rolling downhill.

The Argonian’s eyes narrowed at her, his temporal spines rising to vertical, much like the hackles on a wolf.

Another inspired bit of species-specific characterization!

“Iss sshe gone?” Weebam-na’s voice slipped through the cracked panel.

Just love the flavor this description adds.

“If you had a mother, she would have taught you the magic word,” I said quietly, resisting the temptation to put my hands on my hips much as my own mother used to do. Her black gaze snapped at me. “That one word can make life so much easier for you.”

Um- is Julian implying that Sir Mazoga really was "spawned under a rock?" Regardless, this is the moment to which my first sentence refers. Loved it.

As to the rat haut cuisine, there is a scene in one of Terry Pratchett's Men at Arms where Corporal Carrot is explaining the menu in a dwarf restaurant:

"Rat and ketchup 7p"
"Rat 4p"

His companion asks why the ketchup costs almost as much as the rat.

"Have you ever tried rat without ketchup?"

[haute ecole rider]

@SubRosa: Will Julian pass on her tact to Mazoga? She’ll try, but we’ll see whether or not it takes . . .

@Acadian: Julian has learned the hard way to monitor her own body language. The Sunbird Dance has been especially helpful in that sense. We were both thinking of Buffy when I wrote that sentence!

@mALX: Rat has got to taste better than Maulhand’s stew! And besides, it’s the other red meat!

@treydog: Loved the vignette from Terry Prachett! I read one of his books a long time ago (think twenty-plus years) - I can’t remember the name of it or what it was about, but I do remember thinking how hysterically funny it was! One of these days I’ll have to go through the whole series. And yes, Julian is as indomitable in her own quiet way as Mazoga.

Here Julian finally learns why Mazoga came to Leyawiin. The Orsimer may be lacking in social graces, but she is a hell of a fighter.

**************
Chapter 19.8 Fisherman’s Rock

Mazoga didn’t speak as we walked along the east bank of the Niben, avoiding the occasional mud crab. I could hear her armor clanking along behind me, but didn’t say anything to her. I wasn’t certain what to make of the big Orsimer. Part of me liked her self-confidence and her courage. Yet her brusqueness, pronounced even for Orcs, rubbed my nerves raw. At least she’s that way with everyone, not just me. If what she says is true, and she has no parents, then she grew up without ever learning any social graces. Graces! As if an Orsimer was ever graceful in polite society. Still - Naspia Cosima thought well enough of Mazoga to train her.

The sunny morning gave way to an overcast afternoon. The air became heavy and still, the temperature oppressive. Ahead, the heat shimmer from a bonfire became visible just past a rise in the land. My steps slowed as I scanned the surrounding area. Bandit camp. Have to approach with caution. Mazoga stepped to my side with a soft clatter. “Is that Fisherman’s Rock?”

“I think so,” I answered. “Weebam-na said it’s a bandit camp.” Now I met her gaze. "I’ve led you here. Perhaps you can tell me why you want to go to a bandit camp.”

“Julian, wait,” she spoke quietly, likewise evaluating our surroundings. “Listen, there’s a guy I need to talk to that camps there,” she returned her gaze to mine. “Name’s Mogens Wind-shifter. I want to talk to him, then we’ll see what happens.”

“You want me to go with you?” I lifted my brows at her. Somberly Mazoga nodded.

“He’s not likely to be alone, and I’d be more comfortable with someone watching my back.” She waited as I glanced around again, searching the understory of the surrounding forest for enemies. “Please?”

“All right, then,” I nodded, loosening my katana in its sheath. “Let’s go.”

“Wait a moment,” Mazoga blocked me with a massive green paw. “I just want to make one thing clear, Julian. I need to talk to Mogens. That means no smashing his teeth in or chopping his head off until I’m done talking to him.”

At least that will give me a chance to size up the situation. “I understand,” I replied.

“Thanks,” Mazoga turned and started up the slope toward the heat shimmer. I fell in just beyond her left shoulder. We crested the rise to see a small clearing. The bonfire crackled merrily, a bright spot in the gathering overcast. Three figures lounging around it leaped to their feet as we approached, hands reaching for weapons. They watched us warily as we drew near the fire. One of them called to the tents behind them. A Nord, muscular chest bare above brown pants and leather boots, flung back a flap and stepped out of one of the tents. Mazoga strode toward him while I stopped near the fire, my gaze on the three bandits.

That male Khajiit has just a mace, but he’s wearing Elven armor. The female Khajiit is not as well armored, just a leather cuirass, but she has the big axe. The Dunmer is likely to be trouble - she has a bow and arrows as well as a shortsword. In a matter of seconds, I had sized up the three and made a plan of attack. If they jump us, I’ll take out that Dunmer woman first. Domina Incendia will be useful here, as well as my fireball spell. As I watched, the Dunmer sidled away from the fire, bringing her strung bow around and readying an arrow. I drew my katana, but held it low, away from the others.

“Mogens Wind-shifter?” Mazoga asked the tall Nord as she stopped in front of him. “Remember me?”

“No,” the Nord shook his head. “Should I know you?”

“Yes, I’m Sir Mazoga,” the Orsimer growled. “You killed my best friend Ra’vindra. Now I’m here to kill you!” Mazoga raised her shield with a sharp crack! to his jaw that sent him reeling. Her Dwemer longsword sang as it cleared the ornate scabbard at her left hip.

With a growl, Wind-shifter staggered back, drawing his own short sword. He braced for Mazoga’s assault, while I shot my left hand up and called Domina Incendia. As my flame atronach whirled into being, I leaped sideways to run around the fire, flinging my flare into the archer’s face before she could draw her bow to full tension.

While Domina Incendia sent fireballs toward the two Khajiiti, I leaped toward the Dunmer. Though she was resistant to the effects of fire, my flare served its purpose and spoiled her aim. As her arrow flew wide, I swung at her with the katana before she could back away. She blocked reflexively with the bow stave. My blade, its edge keen from Tun-zeeus’s diligent sharpening, neatly snapped it into two, the string twanging uselessly. The Dunmer’s left hand shot up, a green light swirling around her wrist, then she reached for the shortsword at her waist.

A shock spell slammed into me, spinning me to the ground. I caught a glimpse of a wraith hovering nearby. Damn! Dunmer Ancestor Spirit! Ignoring the tingling along every nerve in my body, I rolled back into a crouched position and raised my sword in time to deflect the shortsword. The hairs on the back of my neck rose again, and I grabbed the Dunmer by the arm and yanked her down beside me, placing her body between myself and the Ancestor. She yelped as the wraith’s shock spell struck her full-on. I reversed my grip on the katana and stabbed it into her shoulder, just beneath the Elven pauldron. Red blood spurted over my hand as the wraith beyond shimmered into thin air. I looked up in time to see the female Khajiit run at me, axe held high for the killing blow.

The deadly blade fell toward me, but I had already rolled away from the archer, the movement freeing my katana. The axe slammed into the ground beside me, and I raised my sword to swing it into the Khajiit’s throat above me. My bloodied hand slipped along the hilt on impact. The sharp blade slid through the bandit’s throat, bringing more blood cascading on me. I kept rolling in the direction of the katana’s arc, surging to my feet and spinning to face the Khajiit, but she had slumped over the handle of her axe. There was no sign of Domina Incendia.

Beyond, Mogens Wind-shifter lay dead, bowels exposed through a tremendous gash in his abdomen. The other Khajiit had charged Mazoga, his mace slamming into the Orc’s round shield. As strong as his blow was, it barely staggered Mazoga. She shrugged him off, and with deceptive speed her sword slammed against his Elven cuirass. The impact sent him reeling back, and she followed after him, her blade rising and falling in a chopping motion. He roared in pain as the dwarven longsword bit into his right elbow, neatly disarticulating the joint and leaving his hand dangling uselessly at his side by a strip of flesh. The mace fell to the ground at his feet.

The three of us glanced at the mace, then the Khajiit stooped, reaching for it with his left hand. Mazoga’s weapon flashed again in the dull overcast, reflecting the firelight as she drove the edge through the Khajiit’s exposed neck. I heard the Dwemer metal crunch into bone as he fell face-down. With a savage twist of her wrist Mazoga freed the blade and looked up from the still form at her feet.

We locked gazes, then she glanced around. Satisfied that no more enemies remained alive, she wiped her blade on the Khajiit’s fur and sheathed it. I cast Carandial’s refresh spell to remove the blood from my hand, and noted that it also removed the blood from the katana’s hilt as well. So it has some small area of effect on touch. Hmm. I knelt beside the Dunmer archer, removing the sash wrapped around her waist and using it to wipe my blade clean before I slid it home in its scabbard.

Mazoga joined me beside the fire. “Thanks, Julian,” she said.

“What was that about?” I asked. “Revenge?”

Her eyes dark, Mazoga nodded. “Ra’vindra was my best friend,” she turned her gaze to the fire. “We grew up together on the streets of Corinthe,” she named a city in Elsweyr. “She saw Mogens Wind-shifter attacking a merchant caravan. She told the Corinthe city guard, and they broke up his band, but he escaped. He killed Ra’vindra before he disappeared.” Her voice cracked, and she stopped.

“I’m sorry, Mazoga,” I turned my eyes away from the tears glimmering in hers. “I know how it is to lose good friends.” As we watched the flames snapping before us, the sky opened up, sluicing us with a sudden downpour.

“That’s when I became a free knight.” Her voice was barely audible above the rain. “I swore to hunt Mogens down. It took me a long time, but I finally tracked him here.”

“Now that you’ve avenged Ra’vindra’s death,” I glanced at Mazoga, “what will you do now?”

The Orsimer’s broad shoulders shrugged beneath the dark bronze cuirass. “I don’t know. Go back to Leyawiin for a couple of days, then take ship back to Torval.” Her head turned, her gaze meeting mine. “Would you guide me back to Leyawiin, please?”

The bonfire died down to a stutter as I stared at her. The walk up had been fairly easy - just follow the riverbank. Mazoga shifted her gaze away from me. I could swear she practically blushed with embarrassment.

“I’m not good at finding my way,” she muttered. “I can’t tell north from south.”

“Let’s go, then,” I didn’t say anything else, only started down to the riverbank from the guttering fire. We stopped long enough to drink from the Niben, then trudged south through the pouring rain.

[D.Foxy]

Excellent tactical thinking and preparation, Julian...and very, very good descriptive combat writing, rider.

I hereby award you the steel pen of the warrior bard.

[treydog]

The description of the walk to Fisherman’s Rock was wonderfully evocative- I could feel the humidity and hear the sounds of the area. Equally fine was Julian’s internal dialogue.

“

He’s not likely to be alone, and I’d be more comfortable with someone watching my back.” She waited as I glanced around again, searching the understory of the surrounding forest for enemies. “Please?”

Sir Mazoga not only listens- but learns! This is proof of her character- but also of Julian’s positive influence.

Julian’s assessment of the bandits reminds me of Josey Wales explaining to Lone Watie how he chose which Union soldier to shoot first- “the second one from the left- he had crazy eyes.”

And then the fight itself was beautifully choreographed. Julian has learned her new tactics well- fighting alone or with just one companion, instead of in a battle-line.

“I’m not good at finding my way,” she muttered. “I can’t tell north from south.”

The additional history makes Sir Mazoga an even more sympathetic character. Wonderful episode!

[SubRosa]

“You killed my best friend Ra’vindra. Now I’m here to kill you!”
Well that was a brief discussion!

Yet Mazoga has indeed learned the magic word. I suspect her relationships will improve from here on out. As three dog noted, the little bit at the end about her not knowing directions was a good touch. It makes her seem less like a tank, and more like a real person.

And of course once again a rousing battle. As others have noted, Julian's assessment beforehand show her experience. Not just a mindless hacker, she thinks about what she is going to do. I always prefer that over the Conan-types who just wade in with their mighty thews and rend the foemen to and fro. Also another excellent display of the new tricks learned by the old dog, with her use of Domina and her flare spell.

[mALX]

This chapter had way too many places to quote that shook me from my seat reading it.

I'll grab just a few I can't ignore:

1. Julian's assessment of everyone's weapons, armor, and position - AWESOME !!!!!
2. Mazoga wiping her blade on the Khajiit's fur - What a detail that paints a picture of the scene, of Mazoga herself and her personality !!!! AWESOME !!!!
3. Trudged south through the pouring rain - Huge, to have that image as a last to this chapter!!! Staging in its finest form!!!

I loved this chapter !!! It has been added to my list of favorite chapters in this story !!!!!

This post has been edited by mALX: Oct 23 2010, 08:38 PM

[haute ecole rider]

@D. Foxy: I accept the steel pen with humble gratitude. High praise indeed from a RL warrior! Where is that darn twirl emoticon! I’ll settle for this:

@treydoggie: Having to learn battle tactics when alone or with a single “follower” is exactly what Julian has been struggling with. One good thing about all those Oblivion Gates - practice, practice, practice. Nothing like the edge of danger to make one learn in a hurry! Though Mazoga was tough to write in the beginning, I actually ended up enjoying this part of Julian’s adventures.

@SubRosa: Yes, after Mazoga ask the PC to let her talk first, she sure didn’t waste any time with that fetcher!

@mALX: I’m glad to see you share everyone else’s opinion of the fight, and of Julian’s mental preparations for it. When I’m watching sword-slasher movies, I always wince whenever I see the actors sheathing swords without cleaning blood and gore off of them. Back in the days when carbon steel was the epitome of metalworking, that was a sure way to get corrosion on your blade. After all, blood is oxidized iron, a sure-fire way to get rust started. I take better care of my chef’s knives than that! So I wanted to get that little bit of warrior craft in the story every so often.

Julian goes back to the wily Count to try again . . .

************
Chapter 19.9 The Count Drives a Hard Bargain

“So, have you been successful?” The Count’s calculating gaze lowered to me as I bowed to him in greeting. “Did you find out what the Orc wanted?”

I met his eyes levelly from where I stood at the foot of the steps. “The Orsimer's name is Sir Mazoga, Count,” my quiet voice cut through the murmurings of the courtiers, bringing silence in its wake. At his side, the Countess drew herself up taller in her seat, her small frame swelling with indignation. Apparently she doesn’t think an Orc deserves to be called a knight. “She was on a mission of vengeance.”

“Vengeance?” Caro chose not to be offended by my directness. “Vengeance against whom?”

“A renegade named Mogens Wind-shifter,” I kept my eyes on the Count as I recounted Mazoga’s tale. Then I shifted my gaze to the Countess. They may not be Imperials or Altmer, but other races understand honor just as well. “Sir Mazoga swore to hunt Wind-shifter down and avenge Ra’vindra’s death at his hands.”

“Ah, I see,” The Count leaned back, steepling his hands before his face. His prematurely bald pate gleamed in the flickering lantern light, and his pale eyes regarded me for several moments. “And where is this Mogens Wind-shifter?”

“It took Sir Mazoga several years to find him. He now lies dead at Fisherman’s Rock.” Murmurings rose again at my words. “Disemboweled by Sir Mazoga’s sword.”

Caro’s forehead crinkled as his brows climbed toward his pate. “Really? So close to Leyawiin?” He cast his gaze around at the courtiers, tacitly silencing them. “Such vengeance is a noble deed. Leyawiin thanks you for your service, Julian of Anvil.”

“Me?” It was a struggle to keep the scorn I felt out of my voice. I shook my head. “No, it was Sir Mazoga who performed this service, and it is to Sir Mazoga Leyawiin is beholden.”

“Leyawiin beholden to an Orc?” the Countess could no longer contain herself. “How dare you!” She ignored the restraining hand Caro placed on her wrist. “Orcs are corrupt! Leyawiin shall never be beholden to -”

“Corrupt, my lady?” I broke in, hearing the pilus resurface in my voice. “Corrupt? Who held the line against the daedra for two days, without respite, while your guard protected you against citizens who intend no threat to you?” I locked gazes with the sputtering woman. “I have served twenty-five years in the Legion, Lady, and believe me, I’ve seen my share of corruption. Enough to know that Imperials and Altmer are just as susceptible to its seductive lure as any other race in Tamriel!” Stop now, Julian. Remember your real mission here. Don’t alienate these people. I turned my gaze back to Caro as Mothril bent down from her great height and murmured into the flushed Countess’s ear.

“Count, I have done as you have asked,” I took a deep breath. “About the matter we discussed before -”

“Yes, yes,” Caro waved his hand dismissively. “You and Sir Mazoga may have eliminated one - no - two threats to Leyawiin. However, I still can not spare my guard, for there is yet another that concerns me.”

What? Are you reneging on our agreement? I felt my jaw clench tightly. “What is it, sir?”

“Thanks to you and Sir Mazoga, we do not have to worry about Oblivion Gates or a renegade named Mogens Wind-shifter. But the outlaw Orc Black Brugo continues to plague the peace and prosperity of Leyawiin.” Caro’s expression remained bland. He knows he has the upper hand right now. “He is the marauder leader of the Black Bow Bandits, have you ever heard of them?”

“No, sir, I have not,” I answered, my voice more calm.

“Find Black Brugo and kill him, and bring me his black bow as proof,” Caro’s eyes hardened. Now he smiled, a small, cold smile. “Ask your friend Sir Mazoga about him. Somewhere in her shadowy past, I’m sure she has had some dealings with him. Do this, and I’ll make both of you knights-errant.”

Knights-errant? You can take your knights-errant order and shove it up your - I stopped my thoughts with a deep breath. Mazoga might like to have a purpose in her life. She won’t mind this supercilious fetcher - any sarcasm on his part would be lost on her.

Now the Countess regarded me with a smug expression. “Seeing how this Black Brugo is an Orc, do you consider him honest?”

I bowed to her. “Depends on how he treats me, Lady.” My gaze moved back to the Count. “Are there any additional threats to Leyawiin that concern you as well, Count? Perhaps I can address those issues too.”

His pale eyes sparkled as his smile widened. “Not at the moment, Julian of Anvil.”

“Very well, Count,” I bowed to him, then turned and strode out of the hall, my head held high and my back straight.

*************************
I was still seething when I found Mazoga at the Five Claws Lodge. She was nursing a tankard of ale, its round sides shimmering with condensation in the warm, humid atmosphere. Witseidutsei brought me a tumbler of cold water as I straddled the chair opposite the Orsimer.

“Well, Julian?” Mazoga met my gaze steadily. “Any luck?”

“What do you know about Black Brugo?” I got straight to the point. After all, it’s Mazoga. Any subtlety would be lost on her.

Her brows rose at me. “Black Brugo? I know him.” She scowled. “Why?”

“The Count wants us to kill him,” the water was cool in my throat. “Kill him and bring back his so-called Black Bow.”

Mazoga’s black eyes narrowed at me. “And what do we get for it?”

I crossed my arms on the chair back and regarded her for several moments. “The Count has promised to make us knights-errant.”

Mazoga’s tankard stopped halfway to her mouth and returned to the table with a thump, shaking off some of the beaded moisture from its sides. “Knights-errant?” She blinked as she considered my words. “Are you pulling my leg, Julian? I may be a stupid Orc, but I’m not -”

“You’re not stupid,” I corrected her. “Uncouth and ill-mannered, maybe, but stupid? You make the Countess seem about as smart as a slaughterfish.”

“Julian!” Mazoga’s shout brought the attention of the other patrons around to us. “Don’t talk about the Countess like that!”

“Very well,” I locked gazes with her. “What about Black Brugo? Are we going to go after him, like the Count requested?”

“You bet!” Mazoga smacked the table with her hand. “Brugo’s a jerk! He’s got a hideout not far from here, in a ruin called Telepe.” Her voice died down to a more normal volume - normal for Mazoga, that is. “He goes there every night after midnight to collect his take.” She quaffed the last of her ale, then wiped her wrist across her mouth. “Hey, we’re pals, right? Let’s go get him!”

“Do you know where it is?” Doubt surfaced about her ability to find the place, especially after her admission yesterday about her lack of navigational skills.

“Of course!” Mazoga countered. “I hooked up with Black Brugo long enough to learn my way back and forth to Telepe. That’s how I found out that fetcher Wind-Shifter was at Fisherman’s Rock!” She shook her head fiercely. “That Brugo’s a real piece of work, though. I’d be happy to see the end of him and his gang.”

“How long will it take to get to Telepe?” I asked. “I want to scout the area before Brugo shows up. If we get there before he’s inside the ruin, it may be easiest to ambush him.”

“It’ll take a couple of hours,” Mazoga thought a few moments. “There’s usually a sniper above the entrance, and one or two guards in front of it. Inside - well, there might be no one, or there might be a whole gang full. Depends on how much traffic is on the Green Road.” Her eyes darkened. “He’s got two top people with him - Alonzo and Roxy Aric. They’re tough characters. Alonzo’s a Redguard, and he likes to slap people around with his hammer. Roxy’s a Breton, but she’s tall for one. She’s quite deadly with her bow.”

“I’d like to be there before dark,” I mused, taking another swallow of the water. “We’d better get started now.”

The table wobbled slightly as Mazoga placed her palms on the flat surface and pushed herself up out of her chair. “Then let’s go!”

[SubRosa]

I loved Julian's audience with the Count and Countess! The subtle nuances were wonderful, such as Julian's use of the word Orisimer where the others used Orc. Then of course Julian out and out throwing down on the Count and Countess. Yippie! I think Mazoga has found quite a good friend in our Redguard.

Knights-errant? You can take your knights-errant order and shove it up your
Well thought! By this time I was a frustrated as Julian. Yet once again we see that in spite of her fury, her wisdom held out. Biting her tongue, she did what was best for Mazoga, no matter how satisfying it would have been to spit those words into the face of the devious Count.

She was nursing a tankard of ale, its round sides shimmering with condensation in the warm, humid atmosphere.
This was an excellent piece of description!

And once again Mazoga shines, as we see more of her true character beneath that initial bluster. Story. Good. More!

[mALX]

HOLY COW!!!!!! The Countess was absolutely rabid!!! - and the Count restraining her by grabbing her wrist? - WHEW !!! I did not see any of that coming !!! If I were Julian, I'd do business with the Count while she is away each mid-month!!!

Like Sage Rosa, I loved the descriptive "tankard of ale" paragraph. Awesome Write !!!!!

[Destri Melarg]

Chapter 19.7 Weebum-Na

I like how you brought the Mazoga to Weebum-Na instead of fetching Weebum-Na for Mazoga. This subtle shift makes Weebum-Na’s refusal seem more real to me. Little details like the rising of his temporal spines and the way that his voice slips though the cracked panel really makes him stand out. Couple that with your usual brilliant incorporation of the in game dialogue and we get a new character that we wish to see more.
And I cannot let this chapter go by without commenting that Julian’s tendency to parent/scold another is finally manifesting itself with a member of her own sex. I think that the fact that it is Mazoga that brings it out in her is absolutely perfect.

Chapter 19.8 Fisherman’s Rock

Corinthe and Cheydinhal? Mazoga certainly gets around. This gives a lot of flavor to her character. Since her past has been spent dealing with Khajiit in Corinthe and, presumably, Dunmer in Cheydinhal, one is left with the feeling that her abruptness is more of a defense mechanism than a true lack in social graces. I imagine that Ra’vindra saw the wellspring of nobility that resides under the surface of the rough and tumble Orc (I mean Orsimer) just as Julian is beginning to.

Chapter 19.9 The Count Drives a Hard Bargain

This was one of those times when I was actually rooting for Julian’s scolding. Someone needs to take Countess Alessia to task for her attitude. And, since that someone will not be her husband, I suppose that Julian will have to do. Too bad her point wasn’t made by the end of her katana, she would have truly been doing a service for all Tamriel. I would have been happy if Julian had chosen Domina Incendia to do her negotiating for her!

I am left to wonder how effective any help from Leyawiin will be to Bruma when they are so woefully incapable of taking care of the problems that plague their own gates!

[treydog]

This is a chapter where Julian really shines. Well, I think she always does , but her personality and strength of character are particularly strong here. That is especially true as she maintains her focus on her main mission and on helping her friend- refusing to allow the Countess' rampant bigotry to derail things.

Knights-errant? You can take your knights-errant order and shove it up your - I stopped my thoughts with a deep breath. Mazoga might like to have a purpose in her life. She won’t mind this supercilious fetcher - any sarcasm on his part would be lost on her.

“What do you know about Black Brugo?” I got straight to the point. After all, it’s Mazoga. Any subtlety would be lost on her.

Two moments that give lots of insight into Julian (and Mazoga). One thing that comes through clearly- Julian has a temper, but refuses to be ruled by it. Those years in the Legion probably have something to do with it.

[Acadian]

The battle at Fisherman's Rock was gritty and well-done. That Mazoga is a terror with a blade, yes?

I was delighted to see Julian restrain (sort of) herself in the Court of Leyawiin for two reasons. It kept her out of the dungeon, and she wisely realized that becoming a 'real knight' would be a big big deal for Mazoga. I'm proud of Julian for helping Mazoga become a knight. Hopefully, the Count will run out of errands for her and give up the help for Bruma that Julian is there for.

Both the chapters I just read were very well written, Rider - and a real pleasure to read!

[Ginner]

I loved the way that you do not confuse the reader with too many, un-needed, nor neccessary details here.