Blood on the Moon, A Journey of Discovery Options

[pdblake]

Just wondering if anyone knows if Treydog is alright? It's been a long while since he last posted.

I think he´s ok....just suffering from what we call RL....Plenty of things to do...just like me.

OK So long as he's OK

[treydog]

The answer to all of the above questions is "Yes". I am working my regular (38 hours per week plus commute) job, as well as teaching Compostion I and Early American Lit. (which involves a 90 mile one-way drive). Add the fact that I am doing the literature "on the fly," because I got the textbook the day of the first class.... I love the teaching; I really think we are doing some good work...but I miss down time and writing time.

I have a rough plan for Athlain and his (mis)adventures and a few notes. Right now, it may be late November or early December before we hear from him again.

Thank you for the concern and for reading.....

[treydog]

A short installment that was too long in the making- hope to have more soon.

At first, the only thing that my new rank changed was the focus of my training. Where I had previously learned the spear, Carbo now ran me through drills with sword and shield. The other troopers congratulated me, but mostly continued to treat me to their rough humor and good-natured chafing. That suited me- it meant I was accepted for myself. Less satisfying was my work with the sword. I wish I could say that the Imperial broadsword became a part of me, an extension of my arm…but it was not so. Much as I loved the gleaming steel blade, much as I lavished care and attention upon it, just so much did it seem to fight against me, twisting in my grip and going awry. The problem was so severe that I began to wonder if the sword was cursed. Unfortunately, trials with other blades proved that such was not the case. Under Carbo’s watchful eye, I tried the saber, short sword, katana, and even a huge claymore that was taller than I. The damages to the training room from that last experiment were extensive; such a massive blade is hard to guide. Surveying the wreckage and the other Legionnaires coming out of hiding, Carbo summed it up in his usual direct manner:

“You will never be a swordsman, kid. If we’re lucky, we can get to the place where you at least won’t do yourself an injury handling a blade. Some people are born to it, some can learn it…and some never will.”

Seeing my crestfallen expression, he added,

“It’s late anyway. Why don’t you sponge off in the river and we’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

I followed his advice and then sought my bunk. Despite my tired muscles, sleep did not come. I worried at my problem like a dog with a bone. Fragments of conversations from the past played back in my mind:

“Trey…perhaps one of the five greatest swordsmen in Morrowind. Or he used to be…”

“…bested that giant Redguard fighter of Helseth’s…and became his friend.”

“He swore that he would never use a sword again…and that was 20 years ago.”

That last kept coming back- even General Darius had referred to it- how my father had been one of the deadliest men in the Empire, and had put his sword away. I knew that words had power, especially an oath taken by someone to whom even the gods paid attention. If my father had truly sworn such an oath, perhaps the curse was not upon the weapons, but rather upon the very blood that flowed in my veins. As soon as the seed of that thought was planted, it began to grow. He was a Breton, a race well-known for their innate magical ability. What if he had unknowingly made it such that none of his lineage could wield a sword? The gods were famous for their peculiar ideas of humor, and for twisting the words of mortals. Or- worse thought- what if it had not been an accident? That last I dismissed- though his rules were stifling, even I had to admit that he was always scrupulously fair- at least by his definition of “fair.” It was not a restful night.

The next day, Carbo called me to the training ground and helped me into my armor, including the shield. I felt absurdly pleased by that- it meant that I was not going to have to go back to the spear. However, when I reached toward the rack of practice swords, he shook his head and said,

“Not those. I think we’ve seen enough of your sword work to last a while. Follow me.”

With that, Carbo guided me to a different part of the field and racks filled with hammers, maces, and axes.

He took up the posture that I recognized as his “classroom stance” and began to lecture:

“Some people consider these to be ‘peasant weapons’ because they are simple- simple to make, simple to use, and generally without ornamentation. While it’s true that the axes and hammers are based on laborer’s tools, that doesn’t make them any less effective. The Legion doesn’t train duelists- it trains fighters. The point of a fight is to win. You win by hurting or killing your opponent. The Nords understand that, which is why so many of them use these weapons. Of course, they also use them because there’s nothing scarier than seeing a Nord warrior drunk on sujamma, charging at you with an axe or a ‘big freakin’ hammer’ in either hand. Armor can turn or even break a sword; these weapons aren’t designed to penetrate, they’re made to hack and crush. You’ve gotten stronger- strong enough to use these. We’ll concentrate on the one-handed types; that’ll allow you to use a shield with your off hand. And you had better learn fast, because the general has a job for us.”

[canis216]

Ah, so very nice... and I see that Trey managed to break his sabbatical sooner than I. Consider me inspired to finish up that update I started 2 months back and never finished. As always, reading a "Treydog" reminds me of how much fun there is in crafting phrases and sentences and whole narratives...

[minque]

Uhh....hehe so Athlain is no natural born swordsman? Nope wouldn´t think so....anyway, he´ll find his specialty...besides he could always visit Aunt Serene....maybe she can give him some ideas?

Another great installment...mmmm I always get inspiration when reading a new "treydog" unfortunately life´s numerous "must do´s" always get in the way!

[jack cloudy]

The sword, the traditional hero's weapon.

Meh, they're overrated. Too short to be a spear (unless it's a Claymore, but spears are still longer.), too light for serious cutting.

The perfect weapon? I'd say something like a halberd. Range, cutting, stabbing, all in one package. It only suffers from being two-handed and unsuited to real close-range.

Anyway, I like the story as always. Now I wonder what that job would be? Too serious to take the time learning, not serious enough to forget about learning at all.

This post has been edited by jack cloudy: Dec 16 2007, 08:55 PM

[mplantinga]

A short installment long in the making is always better than none at all. Thanks for finding the time to continue the story for us.

I was intrigued by the apparent bias against blunt and axe weapons that you imply is inherent in the legion and general Tamrielic society. I never got that sort of impression from the game, but the way you explained it made it seem obvious. Yet another example of how Trooper Carbo seems to be a cut above the rest, even though he has refused to be promoted. Athlain would do well to learn as much as he can from this thoughtful soldier.

[treydog]

Interlude Three

A letter posted from Fort Darius, Gnisis, Vvardenfell District (a portion):

Mother:

I hope this letter finds you well. I am in excellent health and my training is progressing. Please give my love to my sisters and remind them to STAY OUT OF MY ROOM! Also, give my respect and affection to Father.

Your son,

Athlain

A letter posted from Indarys Manor, Vvardenfell District (a portion):

…What would “find me well” would be for you to stop this foolishness and come home. However, your father has informed me that this Legion nonsense is “something you need to do.” I still think it is just male pig-headedness and Athynae agrees with me. You remember Athynae, don’t you? She was asking about you just the other day…. Actually, what she said was, “What has that idiot Athlain gone and gotten himself into now?” A wonderfully intelligent girl, I think. Not that it will do any good, what with my only son determined to get himself killed or horribly maimed. I do hope you are at least remembering to wear fresh undergarments.

* * *
Love,

Mother

* * * * *

Report of a patrol conducted by Senior Trooper Carbo and Trooper Treyson on or about 17 Last Seed 451 3E.

Pursuant to information provided to the Imperial Legion garrison (see Appendix A, Confidential Informant statement) stationed at Fort Darius Gnisis Vvardenfell_ the above-named Legion personnel proceeded to Ashinabi________ to investigate possible criminal activity in contravention of the laws of the Empire. Legion personnel effected entrance to said location and were immediately confronted by _5__ (insert number here; please note that “many”, “lots”, and/or “scads” are not acceptable substitutes for actual numbers).

(circle all that apply) Altmer/Argonian/Bosmer/Breton/Dunmer/Imperial/Khajiit/Nord/Orc

suspected miscreant(s). Senior Trooper Carbo_____ immediately called upon said suspects to cease and desist all unlawful activity and informed him/her/them (circle as appropriate) that he/she/they (circle as appropriate) was/were under arrest. Suspect(s) reacted violently, attacking the Legionnaires with _swords, bows__________ (describe weapons here). S. T. Carbo__ and Trooper Treyson responded with deadly force. Despite the miscreants’ superior numbers, the arms of the Imperial Legion prevailed. Long live his Imperial Majesty, Uriel Septim.

Casualty Report:

Your Name(s) Here _S. T. Carbo________________ received minor/major/fatal (circle all that apply) wounds to the (circle all that apply) head/torso/limbs.

(Medical Officer’s Report, Appendix B)

Criminal casualties comprised _5__ dead 0 wounded _0 captured (Identities of Criminals, Appendix C).

Value of Recovered Goods:

Goods, foodstuffs, arms, and armor equaling an approximate value of _2000___ septims were recovered and turned over to the Fort Darius Quartermaster. (Quartermaster’s Report, Appendix D).

Respectfully submitted: _S.T. Carbo, Trooper Treyson__________________ Your Name(s) Here

[pdblake]

Love the way the form already has the 'suspects' action on it and the consequential deadly force:)

[mplantinga]

Leave it to the Legion to have a fill-in-the-blank form for dealing with "miscreants."

I especially appreciated the letter from Athlain's mother. It had that despairing mother tone to it, where's she's clearly resigned herself to the fact that she can't convince him to come home, but still insists on telling him he is not thinking clearly.

[minque]

Ahhhh just wonderful! Hmmmm Athinae huh? I wonder....no actually I do not wonder....I know! And I just love it.

Gah now I have to......I just have to!

And treydog my sweet treydog.....hope you will have a great holiday...

[The Metal Mallet]

Excellent couple of posts. I really enjoyed the Mother's letter and hidden message provided by the mention of a girl. Also, the Legion fill-in-the-blank form is absolutely hilarious!

[blockhead]

Innnnnnteresting. Welcome back, Treydog

[treydog]

I cannot relate the events that took place in Ashinabi, even though I was there. Mark that- I do not say that I “will not,” but that I cannot. To this day, I have no memory of that cavern or of the smugglers who died there, most of them at my hands. I know what the official report says, and what Carbo told me afterward- how we entered and were ambushed, with him taking an arrow to the shoulder that largely kept him out of the fight. Yet, when I asked him what happened next, he did not speak of my actions in any detail, saying instead,

“You did fine. Obviously, because we’re still breathing and they aren’t. Now sign the report.”

When I had signed my name, he looked at me for a time and then said,

“Look, kid, it’s like this. We do the job. It’s dangerous, bloody, and rotten- but we’re all there is. The Houses look out for themselves- even Redoran. The priests have their heads in the clouds. So we’re out here at the sharp end and it comes down to us to maintain order. I know there’s a lot of loose talk about the Empire bailing out of Vvardenfell or maybe even all of Morrowind. And maybe that’s going to happen. But until it does, I follow orders. I guard my patch of ground and I don’t let any son-of-a-guar smuggler or bandit crap on it. Some people call me a killer and I won’t deny it. But I never killed anybody that didn’t have a weapon in his hand or that I didn’t give a chance to surrender. And neither have you. So you see to your equipment and then get to bed. Because tomorrow or the next day, we’ll have to do it all again.”

What I did not know until some time later was that Carbo had another conversation that day, a private talk with General Darius.

The veteran Legionnaire removed his helmet and slumped into the chair his commander indicated. He mopped his brow and then spoke slowly:

“General, in all my time in the Legion, I’ve never seen the like. I’m thinking there may be some truth to those stories about Trey having Skyrim blood in him.”

Darius poured them both a drink and looked at Carbo sharply:

“Skyrim blood? You mean Athlain fell into battle-madness? Berserk?”

Carbo shook his head, frowning thoughtfully.

“No, or at least not exactly. It was almost the opposite…like he became supernaturally focused. He didn’t rave or flail about wildly- he just-- took them apart. It was like watching a grown man going against children. And the last one, the Redguard…. Sir, he stalked him. Like a big cat or a wolf. And…,” he hesitated a long moment before continuing, staring into the mug in his hands.

“And his eyes…. I know they’re brown; I’ve looked at them enough. But I would swear they turned yellow when he was hunting down that smuggler.”

He threw back his drink in one quick swallow and then said,

“What was almost more frightening was what happened after. Before the Redguard even hit the ground, Athlain had turned to me and was healing my shoulder, as if nothing had happened. He says he doesn’t remember. And I believe him.”

Darius considered Carbo’s words and then gave vent to a loud sigh.

“Well, that complicates things, at least for Athlain. He’s due for some leave- a bit of time at home will do him good. And then…. Orders are orders. I will be sorry to lose him, though.”

The next day came early, with Carbo banging his fist on the footboard of my bunk. He grinned at me and said,

“Time to scrub off the top layer and get into your kit, boy. You need to clean up as pretty as you can.”

As I scrambled for my armor, I asked blearily,

“What is it? Inspection? Visiting nobles?”

Still with that maddening grin, Carbo shook his head.

“Oh no, kid. It’s a lot more serious than that. Something I can’t help you with. You just got 3 days home leave. You have to face your mother.”

[jack cloudy]

Supernatural focus? I seem to remember that Trey got his share of that experience as well, once. Only he got to remember the gritty details.

So now he's off to face the parents. Well, good luck, kid. You're gonna need it. *I love saying that line.*

This post has been edited by jack cloudy: Jan 1 2008, 12:11 AM

[blockhead]

And his eyes…. I know they’re brown; I’ve looked at them enough. But I would swear they turned yellow when he was hunting down that smuggler.”

Oh no ... not the werewolf thing?!!!

[minque]

What was almost more frightening was what happened after. Before the Redguard even hit the ground, Athlain had turned to me and was healing my shoulder, as if nothing had happened. He says he doesn’t remember. And I believe him.”

Ohhhh....that was interesting! Does he know of his healing-skills? My my.....I like that!

“Oh no, kid. It’s a lot more serious than that. Something I can’t help you with. You just got 3 days home leave. You have to face your mother.”

Now this is nice, I can´t wait to hear what Baria says....and some other friends at home! yayyyy


Wonderful Treydoggie! Just wonderful. I have good faith in Athlain, he´ll do just fine at home...I think?

[mplantinga]

Face his mother indeed. She will not be happy, except perhaps to see him in one piece. Should be fun.

[treydog]

The prospect of going home filled me with mixed emotions. It would be wonderful to see my family again; the long separation had made clear how much they meant to me. At the same time, I was somewhat fearful over seeing Father again- the letters I had received from Mother seemed to indicate that he understood my actions, even if he did not approve…. And perhaps that was the problem. I had always had his understanding, but what I desperately wanted was his approval. That rare moment of introspection passed quickly as I considered another reason it would be good to get away from my duties for a few days. Almost all of my Legion pay had gone to finance Louis Beauchamp, and he had sent encouraging reports of his progress. He had somehow procured complete plans for a Dwemer airship, a device that could navigate the skies just as a regular ship sailed the seas. I had been taken with the notion as soon as he explained it, and had eagerly agreed to back him. True, he had been somewhat vague about his ultimate reason for building the device, but I was not overly concerned. It had been some weeks since the fabrication of the ship was completed and a crew was hired; in fact, the ship had actually been launched successfully. So much I knew. Thereafter, Beauchamp’s letters had ceased. I knew he had not planned to travel upon the airship himself; he should therefore still be in Ald’ruhn. If he was, I would find the Breton speculator and have serious talk with him.

Following Carbo’s advice, I gave myself and my armor a good cleaning, then packed a travel bag and went to the silt-strider landing. As always, I enjoyed the sensation of gliding high above the landscape, moving with incredible speed while wrapped in a warm robe. I did not pause in Ald’ruhn, but immediately set out for Bal Isra and home. Although ash still swirled on the breeze and crunched underfoot, vegetation was taking hold in many places. Perhaps Mother’s hope for a garden was not so foolish, after all. Legion conditioning and a desire to see my home again made for a rapid journey, and the domes of Indarys Manor soon came into view, gleaming in the afternoon sun. I strode up the path to the house and gestured the family retainers to silence with a smile. They nodded their understanding that I wanted my arrival to be a surprise and smiled back as they opened the front door. I entered and set my travel bag and weapons aside before making my way down the passage to Mother’s studio. I knew that she would be there; she always said the light of early morning and late afternoon was best for painting. Sure enough, I came to the open doorway and saw her seated at her easel, head tilted to one side as she considered her latest painting. The sight of that beloved figure so filled my heart that a sound somewhere between a sigh and a sob escaped me. She whirled about, paintbrush in hand. For several seconds, we simply stared at one another, then she leapt from her chair and rushed toward me. As I started to smile a greeting, she brought her right hand around and gave me a resounding slap.

“That’s for leaving home without telling me,” she cried.

As my head rang from the blow, she used her left hand to slap me on the other cheek.

“And that’s for making me worry!”

Her green eyes flashed fire as she added,

“And I owe you another for not telling me you were coming home! But I’ve run out of hands, and it wouldn’t be lady-like to kick you!”

Then she threw her arms around me in an embrace that made my ribs creak, even through my armor. Tears quenched the fire in her eyes as she stepped back to look at me. She took in my uniform and armor and shook her head with a smile.

“Much as it pains me to admit it, you look so dashing—you’re just going to break all the girls’ hearts. And I suppose the uniform also means you aren’t home for good- how long do you have?”

Before I could answer, she rushed on:

“We’ll have to have a party, of course. We’ll invite the Sarethis and the Morvayns and…. Oh dear. Your father….”

The flow of words abruptly stopped. Able to at last get in a word, I asked,

“What about Father? Is he hurt?”

An icy spike of fear pierced my chest. I thought back on General Darius’ words, about how much power my father had, and how there were those who would wish him harm. Seeing my stricken expression, Mother held up her hands.

“Oh no, it’s nothing like that. It’s just that he isn’t here. He received a note from Divayth Fyr asking him to come to Tel Fyr for a consultation. Considering that Lord Fyr rarely receives visitors, Trey felt he had to go. And there is a bond between them, what with everything that happened before. Of course, if he had known you were coming home, he would have delayed the trip for a few days. As it is, he should be back in a week or so,” she added hopefully.

It hurt me to disappoint her, but I also felt a guilty relief as I explained that I only had three days. I rationalized my relief with the thought that another furlough would come soon enough, another chance to see my father and hear his words. At the time, I did not realize how long it would be before we met again, nor under what bizarre circumstances. Mother recovered her good spirits quickly; she was always inclined to look to the sunlight rather than the rain. Taking my hand, she led me into the parlor, calling to the servants for tea.

[Black Hand]

Ahhhh, motherly love.....