Blood on the Moon, A Journey of Discovery Options

[Kiln]

Life is sometimes hectic Trey. Just glad to hear you checking in, even if it isn't to update your story.

[treydog]

And now we do have new story. We will pick back up with Athynae soon, but for now, Athlain has taken up the stylus once again. The two have taken their leave of Thirsk, going to the Skaal village to learn what the Bloodmoon Prophecy has in store for them. Although they are united by their purpose, the youngsters still need to learn what it means to be a team. That... may take a while. As ever, thank you so much for reading and for responding.

----------------------------------------------------

It felt good to be moving once more, even if we were uncertain what we were moving toward, and even though we traveled in silence, broken only by the crunch of snow and the rasp of our breathing in the chill air. Athynae was at once withdrawn and vigilant, her eyes moving from rock to tree to drift of snow in an endless circuit. I held my words, not asking whether she was looking for Hircine’s pack or for someone more capable of wounding her heart.

We would be spending one night in the open, so I could not fault her caution, regardless of the true reason for it. I had been so caught up in various concerns that I had forgotten what darkness meant for Thyna- the night-blindness that had afflicted her since she was cured of lycanthropy. She reminded me of it, indirectly, when we made camp.

“Put this on,” she said, holding out a vial.

We had both spent part of our time at Thirsk compounding potions; for the daughter of a healer and the son of an alchemist, such was as natural as breathing. But this bottle did not look familiar, so I hesitated.

“What is it?”

She rolled her eyes at my suspicion and growled, “Just dab a little of the mixture on your neck and arms.”

I could not help but recall another time she had asked me to put on one of her homemade recipes- one designed to attract cliff racers, which tend to feed on carrion. So, even though I took the vial from her outstretched hand, I asked again,

“I understand how it is to be used- what I want to know is what IS it?”

“A mixture of bittergreen and lavender.”

I removed the stopper and gave it a cautions sniff. “If I put this on, I am going to smell like one of Des…” I stopped before I completed the thought, but Athynae still raised an eyebrow. Just the same, there was no need for me to mention anything about Desele’s House of Earthly Delights in Suran- or how I might have any idea what the… ah… employees… smelled like. Besides, it was just a phrase I had heard Father use to refer to some of the more pungent flowers in Mother’s garden.

Whatever Athynae thought of my momentary lapse, she kept it to herself, instead providing an explanation: “It will help me find you in the dark. In case we are attacked.”

That ended the conversation, and we both passed the darkness wrapped in our own thoughts. However, I did make sure to apply the fragrant potion just as she had asked. Fortunately, it was not necessary, as the night passed without incident. But the aroma of bittergreen comforted me in some indefinable way.

* * * * *

The smoke of the Skaal village and then the shapes of the houses came into view and I hoped Korst Wind-Eye would have answers for us. I also had other concerns, beyond the whole “confronting a possibly immortal Daedric prince” aspect of what we were doing. Well, one concern in particular. I rather hoped young Ingmar would be off wrestling snow-bears- or whatever it was he did for entertainment- besides staring at Athynae like she was a dish of iced fruit and he had just bought a new spoon. She might think he was a “sweet boy,” but I remembered his declaration that, as a man of the Skaal, he was now able to marry.

The village appeared to be peaceful; the only tracks were those of hunters- the two-legged kind- going about their routine. Still, there was tension in the air, and the guards were posted outside the Great Hall, which indicated that Tharsten Heart-Fang had not returned. They were stiffly formal with me, but treated Athynae as if she was visiting royalty- or a long-lost sister. I enjoyed watching the gruff hunters turn into eager boys in her presence, and what made it better was that she was unaware of the effect she had.

It was already late afternoon, and that brought its own dilemma- where would we sleep? Before I could make much headway on that problem, we had reached Korst’s house and knocked on the door. The shaman greeted us with a book in one hand and his pipe in the other.

“Welcome back, Athlain. And I see you have brought a guest, as well.”

I knew from previous conversations that Athynae had not met the shaman; he had been away during the time she spent with the Skaal. So I made introductions, and Korst’s gaze sharpened as he no doubt recalled the finding ceremony he had performed for me.

However, all he said was, “A pleasure to meet you at last.”

Meanwhile, his use of the word “guest” brought my concern about accommodations to the fore again and I chewed my lip in thought before I remembered. I turned to Athynae and said, “You can put your things in Rik… in the Blodskaal’s house and I can stay with Lassnr or Korst.”

Thyna’s eyes came back from whatever distant thoughts she had been contemplating, something only she could see. Most times, I would have been happy to see her return to the present, except that her intense gaze now pinned me where I stood.

“Excuse me? The who’s what? Who is this ‘Blodskaal,’ and what right do you have to offer me his house?”

I really did not want to tell her how the house came to be mine- about how I had been forced to pass judgment on the unfortunate Rikolfr- nor the form his punishment had taken- being torn to pieces by spectral wolves. Meanwhile, Korst was suddenly overcome by a coughing fit, but I ignored him; he was a shaman- he could make himself a potion or something. I wished I was a shaman- or that I could at least make myself disappear, especially as Thyna was still waiting, only now with her arms folded, her shapely right hand resting on the bracer on her left arm. Any second now- and yes. Her fingers began tapping a dangerous cadence on the bracer. The sound was enhanced by the guards she wore over her fingertips, an innovation of her own. Normally, you could forget they were there, except when she wanted you to notice- like now- or when she punched her stiffened fingers into a soft part of your anatomy.

“Yes, well… you see… that is to say…” I temporized.

Now her foot was tapping a counterpoint to the rhythm of her finger guards on the bracer. Her lips were curving upwards, but calling it a “smile” would be like calling a blizzard a “cooling breeze.”

“It is a ceremonial title given to one who has proved himself a friend of the Skaal, often by performing some service.”

Korst had apparently managed to overcome whatever ailed him; his voice was smooth as he provided that useful interlocution. Having found the power of speech once more, he continued, “Athlain currently holds that honor and the house that goes with it.”

“How… nice.”

Athynae’s voice could have removed the barnacles from the hulls of the entire Imperial Fleet.

“And just what ‘service’ did you provide?”

“I… ah… erm… helped repel a werewolf attack on the village. Didn’t I tell you about that?”

Before she could bring her considerable talent for interrogation to bear, Korst pulled our attention back to more important matters.

“I have been waiting for you to return. The signs point to the coming of the Bloodmoon and the Wild Hunt. We cannot prevent the fulfillment of the prophecy, but we can prepare. The outcome is not certain, and it is clear to me that both of you have important roles to play.”

He urged us further into his home and continued, “First, we must consult the All-Maker and ask that He grant His blessing.”

The shaman directed us to assist him in setting up a small round table and three chairs just in front of his fireplace. He then placed a small crucible over a burner on a tripod in the center of the table and candles at the cardinal points of the compass. He pointed us to our places and took a burning brand from the fire.

“Now we may begin.”

He lit the first candle, intoning, “All-Maker, by the Blood of the North, I request that you grant your wisdom.”

He then passed the brand to Athynae and pointed to the eastern candle. As she touched flame to wick, Korst spoke: “By the hand of the Child of the Dawn, we ask that you send the light of knowledge to us.”

Athynae’s hand shook a bit, but she got the candle lit. The shaman took back the burning branch and lit the southern candle with the words, “Unknown south, reveal to us that which is hidden.”

Finally, he passed it to me and pointed to the last candle. As I lit it, he finished, “By the courage of the Child of the West, help us bring our quest to a successful ending.”

Taking the brand from me, he used it to light the burner beneath the crucible, and then tossed it back into the fireplace, indicating that we could take our seats.

“Please join hands and close the circle.”

When we had done so, the shaman smiled and told us, “It is well to have a true companion in such an endeavor as this. Where one might falter or lose heart, two will stand firm. I will serve as your guide. The All-Maker sees everything that passes on this island that He made to be a home for His children. But He does not reach out with His hand into the world of mortals. It is for we, the Skaal, to show our strength, our courage, and our wisdom. It is for this He made us and placed us here.”

With that, Korst released our hands. “The unity of our purpose will keep the circle intact.”

Even though we heard the words, it took Athynae and me a moment to let go of each other. Mysticism always made me nervous. If the shaman noticed, he chose not to comment. Instead, he began to drop various powders into the crucible. Finally, he handed hollow reeds to us and pointed at ports in the base of the vessel.

“Blow gently into the mixture, that your breath may mingle with the sacred smoke, just as the All-Maker breathed life into His children. In this way he will know you. A single breath will be sufficient. As you do so, think of your purpose and your need.”

When we did as he asked, the smoke from the crucible changed color, going from white, to grey, to red, to blue. Korst inverted a glass bowl above the crucible, capturing the smoke within.
“You may relax now. The All-Maker will show me the way.”

He contemplated the swirling vapor within the bowl, reading meanings in the movement. As he did so, he nodded his understanding, darting quick glances at Athynae and then at me. At last he sighed and turned the bowl upright, releasing the smoke.

“The final turning of your path remains hidden, but this I have been given to know- you have each been chosen by the All-Maker to serve as His agents in this struggle. However, as you are not of the Skaal, there are rituals you must complete. If you triumph, the All-Maker will give signs by which all will know you.”

He stood from his place and doused the candles and the burner, then tipped the contents of the crucible into the fireplace. Last, he broke the reeds we had used and burned them as well.

“One cannot be too careful with the tools of magic, especially when battling such a wily foe. The first thing you must do is journey to the Tombs of Skaalara to retrieve the Totem of Claw and Fang. It… disappeared when the werewolves attacked the Great Hall. But the All-Maker has given it to me to see where it now rests- and that it is your burden to find it and bring it back. The Totem is necessary to perform the Ristaag.”

He looked at us carefully, making sure we grasped the gravity of his next words. “You do understand that the Tombs are almost certainly a trap? The Hunter usually has more than one string to his bow. While it is true that we cannot perform the Ristaag without the Totem, it can also serve as bait- for you.”

I finally found my voice. “Then you advise us not to go?”

“No. The ceremony must be performed, and you and Mistress Athynae are essential to its success. I simply suggest that you walk carefully and keep your senses alert. There are enough dangers in the ancient barrows even when the eye of Hircine is not upon you. Beyond that, the All-Maker tests His children, but He does not set them at obstacles they cannot overcome.” He smiled bleakly. “Of course, that does not mean He makes it easy. For now- rest. Tomorrow will be the time to begin.”

[haute ecole rider]

I loved the shamanistic ritual you described here, though I initially thought it was odd that the ritual focused on the four cardinal directions but only three people were present. Yes, Korst Wind-Eye was both North and South, and as I thought about it it seemed to make some odd sort of sense - shamans inhabit the in-between that lie in the middle of opposites - light and dark, life and death, youth and wisdom, why not between North and South? I loved that he called 'Thyna the Child of the East - would that be a reference to Azura? Or rather to her birth in Vvardenfell?

This new silence between Athlain and 'Thyna is somber, but I feel it is necessary for their relationship to progress to the next level. In order to work together as a team, they need to spend a little bit of time apart to become more familiar with their own new selves. It seems to be a time for introspection, for self-evaluation, for a reassessment of priorities and assumptions. I look forward to how the relationship grows from this point forward.

[minque]

Her fingers began tapping a dangerous cadence on the bracer. The sound was enhanced by the guards she wore over her fingertips, an innovation of her own. Normally, you could forget they were there, except when she wanted you to notice- like now- or when she punched her stiffened fingers into a soft part of your anatomy.

Pure darn brilliant!

I liked the ritual, mystic and intense, could almost smell the smoke and feel the eerie athmosphere

Oh let them be successful.....

[Grits]

I enjoyed the exchange between Athlain and Athynae when she realized he had achieved some status among the Skaal without informing her.

The ritual was lovely. I liked every detail, especially the contrast between the Child of the Dawn and Child of the West. And now they have the task of retrieving the Totem. Chilling to know that the Hunter has undoubtedly set others against them.

[Khajiit_Thief01]

I'm finally caught up!

Really well done! Like others, I enjoyed the ritual and how you paint the imagery so vividly. I am less familiar with Bloodmoon than vanilla Morrowind and Tribunal, but the way you describe the scenes make me feel like I know the setting intimately. Again, well done!

I also like the way Athynae describes her inner turmoil, both in regards to her duty to protect Athlain and in her frustration at Uncle Seth's distantness. These characters have grown so much since we first met them, and I am excited to see what further surprises the road ahead will bring!

[canis216]

When was the last time I posted in a story thread? Ages. But since I decided to drop in and even log in for once, I feel compelled to note how happy I am that this story continues, even if only in fits and starts.

[treydog]

@haute- The rituals are interesting for me to write, as my game play tends to deal more with the “Sword” side of things than the “Sorcery.” And yes- making 3 people represent 4 directions kinda did not fit for me either, but I could not think of a way to add someone without Athynae pitching a major rebellion. And as you note, Korst is the person who “stands between,” while the youngsters represent the Empire and the frontier. Yes- Athynae’s designation signifies both her association with Azura and her place as a “child of Morrowind.”

Some growth and conversation- although still with yelling- coming up!

Thank you as ever for your thoughtful and welcome comments.

@minque- Athynae’s mannerisms are so much fun to describe… she is so vivid in my mind. And again, the hocus pocus is also fun to think up and write.

@Grits- They cannot order breakfast without it being a fight… and using Korst as a bit of a “straight man” gave him some added personality. There is humor lurking under that “just a simple Nordic shaman” exterior…

And I could write a book on the symbolism of the A and A team’s contrasts… but I won’t. Oh wait…

The final confrontation with the Hunter looms on the horizon, but there are skirmishes yet to be fought.

@Khajiit_Thief01- It is so good to see you back! And to see you still writing Stich as well! Thank you for reading and for your insightful comments. Looking forward to more of your story, as well.

@Canis216- And it is a joy to have you drop by! Thank you for continuing to peruse this story. Take care, my friend.

Where we are- The signs and portents point to the coming of the Bloodmoon, when Hircine calls the Great Hunt. His machinations have already affected Athynae and Athlain, and now they have been given the task of shaping the course of the Prophecy. It cannot be prevented- but perhaps it can be mitigated. But if these two “outsiders” are to represent the Skaal, they must carry a sign of the All-Maker’s blessing- the Totem of Claw and Fang. That symbol disappeared when werewolves attacked the Great Hall- along with Tharsten Heart-Fang, the Skaal chieftain. Shaman Korst Wind-Eye has performed a ritual to divine the Totem’s location. Now Athynae and Athlain must work together to retrieve it, even though chances are it is bait in Hircine’s trap.

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Lassnr had a fire burning and a good stock of wood piled in the chimney corner. I reminded myself to replenish it- in the morning. For now, I was glad of the warmth and the company, for the cold wind seemed to circle the cabin like an animal seeking entry. Perhaps I had accidentally breathed some of Korst’s vision-inducing smoke; I seemed to see shapes moving in the shadows just beyond the edge of seeing.

For his part, Lassnr sought to draw my mind from somber thoughts.

“Had another letter from Tymvaul. He is learning the art of healing.”

The proud father drew a parchment from his pocket and tilted it so that the light fell on the page. He read aloud:

I see now that this is true power- being able to set right an injury or illness. A boy was carried in from the street just last week; his legs had been crushed by a wagon. In another place, he would have died or only lived out his existence as a crippled beggar. But Mistress Oleta and Mistress Marz made him whole again. As I write this, that boy is running through the gardens. Father, they gave him back the chance to have a life. I cannot imagine a better course of study. I have spoken with the Arch-Mage, and if I do well in my studies here, I will be allowed to travel to Bravil to learn from Mistress Marz. You see, she is not a mage, but a healer in the Temple of Mara.

Lassnr folded the letter back and put it away. He puffed on his pipe for a moment and said,

“There are many ways to ‘set things right.’ I am glad Tymvaul has found his path. And I do not forget that it was you that guided him.”

After that, he fell silent once more, leaving me with my own thoughts, which were less bleak than before.

* * * * *

Even though I rose early, gathering firewood and breaking my fast before the first hint of dawn, when I next stepped outside, Athynae awaited me, armed and equipped. The morning light seemed to set her hair aflame, and I could not catch my breath for a moment. But at the same time, I saw shadows beneath her eyes and tried for a lighter note.

“Are you so anxious to walk into a trap, then?”

Her reply was terse. “I am ready for this to be over. Do you know the way to the Tombs of Skaalara?”

It struck me as peculiar that the person Korst had referred to as the “Daughter of the Dawn” was so testy in the morning, but I decided to keep that observation to myself. If we were walking into an ambush, I preferred to do so with all of my limbs in working order. To further that end, I handed her the steaming mug that I had been hiding behind my back. Her eyes widened as the scent of hackle-lo tea reached her nostrils and she whispered:

“I wonder how you put up with me.”

But she also cradled the mug possessively, breathing in the aroma before taking a long sip.

Here is a secret about Athynae- though she was an excellent alchemist and loved hackle-lo tea- she was incapable of making a palatable cup of the brew. I suspected her inability was a combination of impatience and her habit of only opening her eyes far enough to avoid walking into walls in the morning. Regardless, I thought her mood would be chancy enough, so I had made the tea, following Mother’s method, right down to the shredded bittergreen leaves. Given what we were about to face, that taste of home was welcome. I don’t know about anyone else, but that was how I faced my fears- by remembering the things that mattered.

We stood in companionable silence while she savored her tea, watching the village come to life around us. Athynae caught me looking at her profile, at the morning sun setting her hair alight, and quirked an eyebrow at me, but said nothing. In that moment, she matched the name Korst had given her, “Child of the Dawn.” When she had consumed the last drop and put away the cup, I smiled at her and said:

“Now can we go try not to get ourselves killed?”

* * * * *

The tomb was typical of the barrows on Solstheim- an entry cut into the slope, braced with timbers and roofed with turf. At the end stood a stone door. We paused in the sunlight for moment and I asked Athynae,

“Are you ready?”

She did not turn her attention away from the door, but spoke in a cold voice.

“Some of Hircine’s hounds are here, waiting inside for us.”

I should have listened more carefully, should have looked at her eyes before responding, but I was distracted by my concern for what was yet to come. So all I said was,

“That is possible.”

Her voice could have disintegrated stone. “No. They are here. I can … sense them.” She paused. “I can smell them, all right?” She finally glanced at me. “Speaking of which, why are you not wearing the lavender and bittergreen?”

I mumbled a reply, trailing off with, “…I forgot.”

Her eyes blazed at me, but her voice was still low. “Athlain. If we are going to do this, if you are to survive it, you must learn to listen to me. This is not a game, where one opinion is as good as another.”

She gestured at the barrow. “It will be dark inside this tomb. Their element, not mine, not any more. I need to take the lead, and I need to know where you are and that you will do as I say. If you cannot abide by those rules, I will leave you here and go in alone. I would prefer not to; Korst seems to believe that we must finish this together. So. Will you please do as I ask?”

Athynae saying “please” was like Lord Vivec coming out of his dwelling in the city that bore his name and walking abroad. So I retrieved the vial of scent and looked a question at her.

“Put a drop in the center of your brow and some on the outside of each shoulder. That will be enough to guide me. And when we are inside, do not wander off on your own. If we are to be a team we need to stay together.”

The thought came to my mind, but not from my lips, that she would have made a formidable pilus prior in the Legion. Of course, her career would have been cut short the first time she told a general that his grand strategy was “stupid.” I also kept that thought to myself.

Going into a dark place where enemies waited was not new to me, not after dealing with the Udyrfrykte and Carnius' mercenaries. However, I had not done so while accompanied by someone whose life meant more to me than my own. The idea of asking ‘Thyna to stand watch while I “had a look around inside" died before it was even fully formed.

With no other recourse, I knelt at the altar of Legion training.

You are going to get hit; you are going to lose troops; you are going to regret that you ever signed up. But what you will not do is quit. If you give up, all the blood and pain is for nothing. So tighten up your armor and grit your teeth and keep pushing forward.

As the remembered word echoed in my mind, I checked my armor, drew the Gift, and opened the door to the tomb. Darkness seemed to flow out and we stepped forward to meet it.

This post has been edited by treydog: Nov 24 2013, 07:15 PM

[haute ecole rider]

So much to enjoy here, not least the return of the A&A duo! They have been much missed by this starving reader! Am I needy? When there are characters that I care so much about, HELL YES I AM!!!

It struck me as peculiar that the person Korst had referred to as the “Daughter of the Dawn” was so testy in the morning, but I decided to keep that observation to myself.

Love this bit of irony that makes Athlain so special to me (and Julian).

The thought came to my mind, but not from my lips, that she would have made a formidable pilus prior in the Legion. Of course, her career would have been cut short the first time she told a general that his grand strategy was “stupid.” I also kept that thought to myself.

This made a certain pilus prior chuckle. It also reinforces her decision to let him off on a certain charge.

This pilus prior also agrees heartily with the value of Legion training. Tighten up your armor, grit your teeth, and push forward, indeed. That is just how the nasty jobs get done.

[Grits]

Great to hear Lassnr’s letter from Tymvaul. It made me think about Trey possibly wishing for an update from his son.

I loved the dawn scene over Athlain’s carefully prepared offering of hackle-lo tea. That made a warm memory to carry down into the tomb.

Darkness seemed to flow out and we stepped forward to meet it.

*shiver* That sounds absolutely heroic!

[McBadgere]

*Sigh* ...Although, it's not like I haven't read it...It seems I hadn't read it with my head on straight...

Bloody hell matey, that's just stunning writing...We have discussed many times that you felt you had evolved as a writer since Trey began his adventures all that time ago...Well, I can now officially pronounce you...Right...

I thought your early stuff was amazing, you know that...But it's true...These last two parts are amazing...The details of the village and in the cabin...The way Athlain notices Athynae in the morning, the bit with the tea was stunning...

“I wonder how you put up with me.”

There's a married person who hasn't asked this at some point?... ...

Ooooh, I loved all that ritual stuff with Korst...And that bit with his coughing fit made me laugh... ...

Fair dues matey...You need to get back to the writing...*Points*...Now!!...Go...Write!!...

What?... ...Don't give me that look, I know, I know...

You first!!... ...

Such a brilliant story...

Love it!!...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

[treydog]

Yes. Well. So it has been way too long. Let us just say… things and stuff happened, and leave it there. I will aver, vow, state, and declare that we have no intention of abandoning this story. The ending has been written almost since the beginning- I just need to manage to get there…

@haute- Abject apologies for making you wait so long, and hopes that this new offering will be found acceptable. Athlain has a tendency to notice (and point out- at least in his journal) things that are probably best left unremarked. I, of course, have no idea from whence that comes… I very much thought of Julian’s example (as did Athlain) when writing the part about going forward.

@Grits- The continuing story of Lassnr and his son owes much to you- for showing me that just because a character is “off-stage,” does not mean she has stopped having a life. And the normally perceptive Athlain has yet to recognize that there may be another concerned father out there, hoping for a letter from his wandering son… One of my RL duties is making certain that a particular redhead is supplied with the caffeinated beverage of her choice. Doing so makes my life much easier…

@McB- My thanks. I admit to being more critical of my earlier writing, because I was winging it a lot of the time and mostly just stuck to the main quest. In the time since, other writers have stepped up and shown me how rich the environment and “supporting cast” can be. I wonder- frequently- how Mrs. Treydog has put up with me… Having those “older and wiser” characters like Korst or Brynjolfr to… gently guide the dueling pair has been lots of fun. And so has imagining and writing the rituals. Writing- well yes. Hmm- I believe what follows will qualify. At which point- it will be… your move?

Where we are- Athynae and Athlain have been tasked to retrieve an item that is sacred to the Skaal, in hopes of preventing or mitigating the worst effects of the Blood Moon. The Totem of Claw and Fang disappeared when werewolves attacked the Skaal village. Korst, the shaman, has divined the location- the Tombs of Skaalara. And he also suspects the totem is bait in a trap set by Hircine, the Daedric Prince of the Hunt. What follows is Athynae’s account of what happened next.

* * * * *

It should have been a beautiful dawn, the low sun making diamond sparks on the snow. And tea. Made almost perfectly, with a couple of crushed bittergreen leaves. But I did not have time or thoughts to spare for beauty. This would be a day for blood and darkness. And how many more of those would there be? How many more until this was finished?

Our trip to the Tomb of Skaalara was conducted in silence. If my mind had not been occupied with the hunt, I might have appreciated Athlain’s restraint- when had he learned to just leave me to my thoughts? And then, there was the whole “Blodskaal” business. What else had he neglected to tell me? How was I supposed to protect him if he kept secrets? And… I paused to take a sniff- if he bathed and then failed to re-apply the lavender and bittergreen I had made for him?

By then, we were at the entrance to the tomb, so I kept my voice low while I explained things to him… again. For once, he only made a token protest and then actually listened. Perhaps he would live through this- if I didn’t kill him first. While he put drops of the scent on his shoulders and forehead, I turned my attention to the stone doors of the tomb.

Cold air whispered out of the gap between the leaves, carrying the expected odors of earth and decay. But there was a stronger scent too; an unpleasant combination of musk, old blood, and… hunger. Hircine’s hounds waited inside. Against my will, my newly enhanced sense of smell sorted and catalogued the signatures of numerous individuals, more than five of a certainty. Some were deep inside; others were close by. In fact one was just inside the entry. Very well- he would be the first to die.

I would lead and Athlain would watch my back. It wasn’t ideal; I would have preferred for him to stay with Korst. But that wasn’t going to happen- even without a prophecy. He was too stubborn. And besides, if I left him alone, he would just get into trouble. Better to have him where I could keep an eye on him. Eyes. That was a problem. As he pulled open one of the doors, I could see that the interior was barely illuminated by torches and firepits. I would have preferred complete darkness to the flickering of light and shadow.

* * * * *

“Close your eyes.” Uncle Seth’s voice was the usual mixture of amusement and certainty.

“Why?”

The corners of his mouth turned up just a bit. “So suspicious to be so young. I am wounded, princess.”

“Nuh-uh. And I’m not… ‘spicious.’ I just want to know why.”

“Because a warrior must rely on all of her senses, not just sight. What if a bandit tied you up in a sack and was carrying you off? How would you figure out where you were?”

”That’s just silly, Uncle Seth. I’d cut my way out with my dagger. And then I would know where I was. And the bandit would be sorry.”

Seth closed his eyes tightly for a moment and got that look on his face, like he had a headache. When he focused on me again he muttered,

“I can see a practical demonstration is in order.”

He bent down to look me in the face, and went on, “I am going to the Rat in the Pot. I will be there for 15 minutes exactly. During that time, you may conceal yourself somewhere outdoors.”

He considered for a few seconds and added, “Within the bounds your mother has set for you.”

I just managed to not kick the ground in frustration; it was NOT FAIR that he could read my mind like that. But I got over it soon enough. This was a contest, and I intended to win.

Once I had found my place, time seemed to crawl. But I knew how to keep still. Not like Athlain, who would have been fidgeting like a kagouti with ash fleas. I kept my head down, not even giving in to the temptation to peek. I knew that if I looked at him, Uncle Seth would feel my eyes on him, just like I always knew when someone- usually Kausha or Mother- was watching me.

“You can stand up now, princess. You are behind the brown rock shaped like an ash-yam, near the scathecraw patch.”

“How?” I demanded.

“I observed, princess, using all of my senses, as well as my knowledge of you.”

He swept his arm to indicate the tumbled walls of Ald’ruhn.

“I set boundaries for you, and I knew you would honor them. A less-than-clever person would have gotten as close to that line as possible.”

I bit my lip; that had been my first thought.

“But a clever warrior princess, one trained by me, would stay closer in, hoping the hunter would walk right past her.”

“The guar were peaceful- so I knew you were nowhere near the pens. You always have treats for them and they would have crowded to one side or the other if they had sensed your presence.

Your mother uses soap with a light but distinct scent. However, I know she is visiting the Ahemussa. When the wind wafted that scent to me from the west side of town, I knew I was close. Finally, there is a scrib which nests beneath that scathecraw. He is clicking in a pattern that indicates annoyance, meaning he cannot get to his burrow.”

* * * * *

Only one part of my mind was occupied with the memory, and it passed in the time between my first step into the tomb and the next. All the while, another part of me was extending my senses, making a picture of the tomb from the sounds and scents and the feel of the air moving against my face, the texture of the stone beneath my boots.

Then a more substantial shadow rushed forward and I stopped worrying about what I could or could not see. Because sight was only one sense and I had others.

A warrior never depends on a single weapon- she is the weapon.

So, whether I could see him clearly or not, I was ready when the beast loomed out of the darkness on my left. My ears had caught the scrape of claws on stone; my skin felt the swirl of air displaced by movement… But rather than sending Dreamer in a diagonal cut, I unwrapped my left hand from her hilt and jammed my forearm straight into the gaping maw. Afterward, remembering Athlain’s sharp intake of breath brought an involuntary curve to my lips, as he wondered what madness had possessed me. But it was anger and intent that drove me, not madness. And for the moment, I was focused on Hircine’s hound- and his master.

Do not underestimate this “princess”, Hircine. I wear that title proudly because of the one who gave it to me, but more than that, I am a warrior, a designation I have earned. I am a daughter of Great House Redoran, the child of Athyn and Serene Sarethi, not a coddled and protected female, afraid of her own shadow.

I pushed harder on the arm that was crosswise in the beast’s mouth, forcing my armored flesh toward the hinges of his jaw.

“So you want to eat me?” I hissed. “Then go ahead, take a big bite.”

The werewolf responded in the only way he could, biting down hard and thus finding the surprise that lay beneath my leathers. Blue fire illuminated his muzzle as his teeth encountered the silver plating- Nordic silver, I heard Bryn rumble in my mind- and the pungent odor of burnt flesh filled the air. The beast howled in agony and released my arm, springing back to paw at his face.

My hand found Dreamer’s hilt and drove her tip into his heart. I pushed her deeper so that we were chest-to-chest, telling the dying abomination, “Death. Pain and death, that is all you or your master will ever have from me.”

With a quick back-step, I pulled the katana free, wiping the tainted blood from her blade on the beast’s fur. I heard Athlain draw breath once more, this time in preparation for questions I had no wish to answer. Before he could sort out which one to ask first, I put I finger to his lips. What I needed now was silence. The other hounds lurking in the winding passages knew we were there, knew something had befallen one of their number, but they could not be certain. Let them wonder what horror stalked the darkness, ready to spring out at them.

“Sshh,” I whispered. “Not now. They are aware that something has happened, and I will need all of my senses to discern their movements.”

Fortunately, though his mind was spinning like a child’s top, Athlain understood my desire for silence, as well as my reasons; he went still. I pointed to the right and raised two fingers. He tapped the back of my hand once with his finger- “yes” in the simple code we had developed years before. It had been a game then, now it was life or death. His uncanny ability to remember everything usually annoyed me, but at that moment I could have hugged him. He then tapped the… enhanced… leather covering my arm, and I knew his lips were quirked in a half-smile. That put me right back to being annoyed.

This post has been edited by treydog: Mar 19 2014, 02:06 AM

[haute ecole rider]

Loved the description of how useful ALL of our senses can be. For someone who lives without one of those five, I totally get 'Thyna's (and Seth's) point about using all of your senses.

And this old pilus particularly loved this:

A warrior never depends on a single weapon- she is the weapon.

As one who learned from a Master of the Sun Dance, she knows better than most the fundamental truth of this.

This post has been edited by haute ecole rider: Mar 16 2014, 08:25 PM

[Grits]

I just loved warrior Athynae’s confident control of the situation. Every move she makes is grounded in life-long training and preparation, and that makes her victories so sweet to watch.

Athlain came through so clearly in his moments here. The way he’s part of Athynae’s awareness even while she has her arm in a werewolf’s jaws was a beautiful thing to read.

Things and stuff sound like symptoms of a full life. I’m so glad that sharing A & A’s journey here is still a part of it. I think the best inspiration comes when we are far too busy to write, so of course that’s when I find myself fighting the hardest for time to do it.

[treydog]

@haute- I am pleased that Athynae’s adaptation to her night-blindness works. Julian provided a wonderful example of how to deal with limitations while not giving in to them. And the most important aspect of that was that the greatest weapon is the mind.

@Grits- We will see more of that planning in the following- and what happens when she finds that some things (or people) cannot be completely accounted for… This post and the next one (when I get it written) will illuminate their continued development as individuals and as a team. One of the hardest parts of RL is knowing the ‘what’ of the story, but not having the time to get to the ‘how.’

--------------------------------------------------

We crept down the corridor as one, and even though I knew the sounds of Athlain’s armor were more my imagination than reality, I still felt the strong desire to shush him. We approached what appeared to be an opening into a larger space; I could barely discern the flickering of a fire, larger than the torches at the main entrance and dispersed randomly through the corridors. I decided it must be a fire pit of some sort. Beneath the scent of smoke, I detected two different werewolves. If pressed, I could not have explained how I knew there were two- only that the scents were almost like colors in the air.

Moving forward, I traced a path from the side of the passage to the middle in an attempt to block Athlain and put myself in a better position to assess where the enemy was. If I could make short work of these two without Athlain’s involvement I would. From the shadowed opening I saw one standing with his paws toward the fire as if he were warming them.

“Stupid animal, you have fur for warmth and still can’t help but allow what tiny bit of humanity you have left to show itself.”

The other I could sense, hidden in the shadows across the fire from the where I stood. I looked that direction only to find darkness. I stilled myself and concentrated to pinpoint the scent as well as any other indicator as to his exact location.

I could feel Athlain behind me, mentally pushing me to move. I put my hand up in a fist as I devised my plan. “Two steps to the one by the fire, one if I leap.” Once the picture of how I would move was in my mind, I crouched in preparation and reached to the hilt of Dreamer with my left hand. I bent my knees for the leap that would propel me up and forward, pulling Dreamer free as my right hand released the dagger I had drawn from my boot when I squatted. The dagger drove through the throat of the shadow dweller as my feet met ground and Dreamer split the other beast from forehead to belly, laying him open like a nice cut of fish.

“What are you doing?” Athlain’s angry whisper reached my ears.

I turned and stepped close, taking his face in my hands “I am doing what I have always done, keeping you safe, in this case alive. Seems to me you should appreciate that since you have obtained all these positions of prominence that require you to be breathing to do your job!”

“I do not need you to keep me alive, Athynae. I am here as your equal, your partner. We keep each other alive.”

“Well, as you can see, I needed no assistance here.” I crossed my arms and looked smugly at the two corpses.

“You can’t continue to act as my protector, to shield me from combat like… like some infant! I have just as much responsibility to keep you alive. And I do not carry this mace,” he tapped the Gift lightly, “because I think it looks good.”

Hidden beneath the anger was a hint of pain; he wanted not only to fight on my behalf, but to be allowed to stand beside me. Once again I had acted without consideration, I had hurt my best friend yet again in the process of trying to keep him from being hurt.

“You cannot expect me to change overnight what has become almost instinctive, Athlain. My oath is as much a part of me as breathing. I am trying.” In reality the thought of allowing him to come to within hailing distance of harm had not crossed my mind. I would just have to do my best to give the appearance of acquiescing to his desire to by part of the fight. Great, one more problem to plague my already taxed brain.

“Try harder, Thyna. I am quite capable of defending myself. If I wasn’t I would have been sent home in a box long before now.” From all that I had heard I knew this to be true, and in reality I did not have anywhere near the experience he did, but that changed little in my mindset. I could not forget the picture of that chubby infant tumbling from the balcony of Under Skar. My life had changed that day, in ways I could never have imagined.

But then my senses went into alert mode- the odor wafting into my nostrils was coming from the corridor opposite where we had entered. One of Hircine’s beasts had decided not to wait, but to come and see for himself. Athlain caught my expression immediately and backed into the shadows. Perhaps there was a way… if only this lycanthrope would cooperate.

I raised one finger and since he was hidden I was unsure if Athlain saw or not. The scent grew stronger and I could hear the distinct shuffle of the beast’s feet. He growled, probably catching the smell of blood and death. I stepped to the fire and faced the corridor with my hands stretched out over the heat, much like the late werewolf had done, and made no move to hide. Now I could only hope that the approaching monster was stupid- and that Athlain was smart- smart enough to recognize that I was giving him a chance to prove his mettle.

The beast’s pace increased as I warmed my hands over the flame. He stopped just outside the room, and I could feel his eyes boring holes through me as he sniffed the air. A deep growl of anger lingered even as he charged into the cavern. I didn’t move, not even to reach for Dreamer. I knew that Athlain would not allow the abomination to touch me, I did. And if my fingers twitched toward the throwing stars at my belt, it was only for a second.

Half way between the opening and the fire the creature’s eyes and then his mouth flew wide and he slammed forward, his head just missing the stones surrounding the fire. The Gift had crunched into the base of his neck with a flash of blue fire. Athlain had broken the monster’s spine, stopping him mid-stride.

I walked to the corpse in the shadows and retrieved my dagger, wiping it clean before I returned it to my boot. “We need to move on, I’m ready to be done with this.”

“As am I, but Thyna- one thing first.” He put his hand on my shoulder, holding me from walking away. “That act of ‘charity’ was a start, but even one of my sisters could have pulled that off. You cannot allow me to protect you only when you know it’s a given. We know each other and can fight together as one if you will simply accept it. There is no other person on Nirn that I would rather have fighting by my side.” He released me and added quietly, “It would just be wonderful if you could grant me the same consideration.”

All I could do was nod. I did trust him; I just didn’t want to take any chances. His life had always meant more to me than mine.

I knew my small act of trust was a shot in the dark, I also knew that I had to stop trying to do it all. The quest we were on was already getting tough and honestly of all the people I knew the only other person I might have wanted to be by my side for this would be Uncle Seth. The only problem with that would be him putting me in the position I was even now putting Athlain in. How would I feel? Madder than a cliff racer with a hangnail. I took a deep breath and decided that I was really going to try to not keep blocking Athlain. Obviously he had accomplished far more than I could have fathomed, and by such was held in high regard even by these obstinate, tradition loving, superstitious people. If he had worked his way into their fold the least I could do was allow him to prove to me what he had already proven to them.

Our conversation ended abruptly when my hand went up. I homed in on the sound and its direction. It was coming closer but then turned. I wasn't familiar with the tombs so I didn't know if it was just the lay out of the corridors or if the next to die was truly moving away from us.

Athlain looked at me and silently asked for answers. I drew an arrow toward the sound then a line showing they had turned. He shrugged and I stood again. I pointed toward the corridor and started moving. The space between torches was increasing which was even more problematic. I was moving into and out of each circle of light and in between finding total darkness. The constant need to adjust was giving me a headache and making me consider the idea of a blindfold; total blindness would be better than this.

As we snaked through the corridor I considered the irony, the blind leading the sighted. It made sense to me; if anything living obstructed my path I could act with deadly force, but if I allowed Athlain the lead, two problems presented; one, he would be the one attacked and two, I would have to avoid hitting him while killing them.

Just as the thought was complete, my instincts reacted. Spinning one hundred eighty degrees, I pulled one of the stars from my waist and motioned Athlain to move, hoping he wasn't looking elsewhere. Before I released the projectile I heard a heavy thump and the subsequent gurgle as all the air escaped the beast’s lungs from his crushed chest.

I let a small sound of humor escape my mouth as I realized the flaw in my previous thoughts; I had no choice but to laugh a little at my own stupidity. Uncle Seth's voice echoed in my head,

"You cannot plan for every possibility, it is better to allow yourself to adapt to unforeseen obstacles that arise. Over planning can give you a false sense of security and limit the range of your senses."

Thankfully, even though I had attempted the impossible, I had also allowed my senses to reach beyond. It took another thought just a tad longer to materialize- Athlain had taken care of the problem; he had done what I had tried to keep him from 'needing' to do. Not only that, but he had done it without me even registering that he had moved.

"Can I get up now?" His voice, soft, broke my mental gyrations.

"What?" I asked before I realized his voice was close to the ground.

"I caught your signal as I was spinning and I didn't want one of your projectiles buried in my well polished armor." I heard the slightest clank as I reached out my hand to help him stand.

"You could have just moved to the side or ducked; you didn't have to dive in the dirt."

"So you say. Remember, I've been fighting with you for a long time."

I still had his hand and I squeezed it before I let go. "Oh, that's right; you've had lots of duck and dive training."

"I hate you." Whether he made his voice sound like a child or I just heard it that way I didn't know.

"Yes, I know. I hate you too, but it would be too much trouble to train a new best friend at this point."

The banter was like a refreshing sip of one of Aunt Baria's special fruit drinks after weeding her garden. For the briefest moment all that had happened in recent months didn't exist and we were sitting on the paddock fence watching Lumhara and Cos Mear frolic.

I couldn't see his face, which was probably a good thing and I turned around so he wouldn't see the pooling that was close to breaking free of the bounds of my lower lashes.

I shook myself free of the memory and got back to the business at hand. As stupid as I felt this fiasco was, we still had to complete the task of retrieving the totem.

We had been in the tombs for what seems like days, hunting for more of Hircine's hounds, picking them off almost without effort. I knew though as soon as we dropped our guard there would be a price to pay.

The air was getting thick with moisture; surely we were getting closer to something. We'd searched every area meticulously and I was beginning to think this was all a farce.

"Just keep looking Athynae; inevitably it will be in the last possible place." Kausha's words rang in my head, something she repeated every time I mislaid something.

A large open area loomed, as big as the dining hall in the village. The odors wafted and swirled, making it a test of my talent to decipher the direction and proximity of the beasts that still roamed the caverns. There were three corridors to choose from and Athlain moved close and leaned in as he asked, "Problem?"

"What? No, there’s no problem. Why?" Sometimes he really could ask the stupidest questions.

"You stopped."

"Do you not think we need to consider which corridor to take?" I was really trying to control my tone but it still rolled out like I was talking to a lower life form.

"No, not really. The two on the right are not only further away but offer little to keep us hidden. The one to the left is much closer and there are also more rocks protruding, creating shadows and blocking the light from the torches." His tone was smooth and lacked any accusation of my being the stupid one...what's more I could not find a flaw in his reasoning. How did I not see that? Before I could come up with any kind of response he added, " It's experience Thyna, that's all. I've spent almost as much time underground on this island as I have above."

I could have blown off on a tangent that would have opened a hole in the earth above our heads. I don't know why his explanation made it worse, but it did. Fortunately, there were still werewolves that needed killing.

[haute ecole rider]

What, another treydog update ALREADY??



So I enjoyed this installment tremendously as I have always done. I love the growing pains of the new A&A partnership as Athlain finds the courage to call 'Thyna to task for not acknowledging his newfound maturity in the fighting arts, and as 'Thyna struggles to recognize Athlain as someone who is no longer her inferior in the martial arts.

Old Habits Die Hard, indeed.

But I see hope for their friendship and partnership in this little exchange (which made me laugh, BTW):

"So you say. Remember, I've been fighting with you for a long time."

I still had his hand and I squeezed it before I let go. "Oh, that's right; you've had lots of duck and dive training."

"I hate you." Whether he made his voice sound like a child or I just heard it that way I didn't know.

"Yes, I know. I hate you too, but it would be too much trouble to train a new best friend at this point."

It's moments like these that tell me that their friendship is still going strong, even as they struggle to come to terms with each other in this strange land we call Solstheim.

[McBadgere]

That was utterly amazing!!...

Oh, sorry I'm late btw...Just...My brain...Y'know?...*Gestures*...

Aaamywho...

I absolutely loved the quiet beginning with the tea and the flashback...These flashbacks (and those written for the Princess Journal™ ) are always amazing...

I love - as a character, I'm not quite ready to go down the "In love with a male literary character" route though - Seth, he's a proper brilliant bit of writing...So get bloody writing Blackie...I know you're reading this... ...And I love the way he's written into this story...

Um...

Oh yeah...When the Dungeon Crawl™ proper starts, it's just brilliant...I love the way Athynae tries desperately to do everything...And yet, I can absolutely see Athlain's frustration at not being able to simply do what he's perfectly capable of doing...

Speaking from a current real-life frustration, I can empathise completely with that... ...

Athynae's struggle to let go is so brilliantly written...It's a shame that Real-Life™ always gets in the way of unending creativity...Hopefully we'll be treated to more Princess soon enough...

Aaamywho...(again)...The whole piece was proper amazing to read from start to finish...I'm sooo looking forward to more...

*Dusts off cliché*...

Nice one!!!...

*Applauds most heartily*


EDIT!!!...

My thanks. I admit to being more critical of my earlier writing, because I was winging it a lot of the time and mostly just stuck to the main quest. In the time since, other writers have stepped up and shown me how rich the environment and “supporting cast” can be. I wonder- frequently- how Mrs. Treydog has put up with me… Having those “older and wiser” characters like Korst or Brynjolfr to… gently guide the dueling pair has been lots of fun. And so has imagining and writing the rituals. Writing- well yes. Hmm- I believe what follows will qualify. At which point- it will be… your move?

...Be careful what you wish for matey... ...

This post has been edited by McBadgere: Mar 25 2014, 05:49 AM

[Grits]

If pressed, I could not have explained how I knew there were two- only that the scents were almost like colors in the air.

*contented sigh* That phrase is simply magical.

I loved Athlain’s speech after he crunched the third werewolf and Athynae’s thoughts that followed. The way their differing points are evolving became so clear right in the middle of the dungeon.

I could have blown off on a tangent that would have opened a hole in the earth above our heads. I don't know why his explanation made it worse, but it did. Fortunately, there were still werewolves that needed killing.

Steps forward and steps back, isn’t that how it goes. Their partnership is so real. I love it!

[treydog]

@haute- Updating again! Call the media! They manage to learn- just very slowly… Athlain does some musing on that in what follows. The moment you quoted was also one of my favorites. You are a constant guide as to whether we are “getting it right.”

@McB- The flashbacks and “memory sequences” help me to remember these young folks have histories which shape their present selves. And they let me “cheat” and add more story without having to come up with a whole new plot…. And the same is true for getting to “borrow” Sethyas, and Serene, and Julian of Anvil, and…. Their writers have given them such life and dimension that this story is much the richer for their appearances. (And I thank those writers- again. Because I will never be able to do so enough). And yes- Athynae made the decision that she had A Purpose in Life when she was about 3 years old. And said Purpose was to keep Athlain alive. She can be rather… determined about these things. I have it on reliable authority that the Princess may have allowed her interlocuter access to the sealed vault of journals… Thank you so much for your support and your kind words.

@Grits- It has been my firm belief for years that dogs and other creatures that rely on scent have some method (equivalent to our color spectrum perception) of cataloging and separating those scents. We will get to see a bit more of Athlain’s thoughts prior to his grousing- and yes, their relationship tends to be a lot like waves on a beach- racing forward, only to retreat- but constant for all that. And the comment to haute above, about being a “guide to whether we are getting it right,” also applies to you. My thanks for your reading and support.

Where we are- Athlain picks up the search of the Tombs of Skaalara, where he and Athynae seek a Skaal artifact known as the Totem of Claw and Fang. As expected, werewolves seem to be lurking around every corner, indicating the significance of the Totem to Hircine. The A & A team are still struggling with the concept of being a “team.” We shall see….

--------------------------

My first reaction to Athynae luring the werewolf out of the shadows was anger. No- anger was my second reaction. My first was to send the Gift slamming into the juncture where the beast’s neck met its shoulders. As the body toppled, I turned to Athynae, ready to berate her, ready to ask her what she thought she was doing by… trusting me? With her life? Because that was what she had done- stood with her back to a creature akin to the one that had almost turned her into a monster herself- and trusted me to deal with it.

My thoughts skittered back to another time on this island, a time when we were attacked by mundane wolves driven to madness by Hircine. ‘Thyna had taken down several with her bow and then stood ready while I finished the rest. And when I had asked her why she stopped shooting, her answer was simple: You were there.

Perhaps I would have preferred that she choose some other method than offering herself as bait, but I had asked that she trust me, that she treat me as an equal. My angry words disappeared like smoke. And there was another, more pragmatic reason to let them go- the beast was dead and we were unharmed. Senior Trooper Carbo had expended a great many- often profane- words getting that concept to penetrate my thick Redoran skull.

A successful battle is one that ends with you alive and the enemy dead. If you want points for style, go to the Arena. The only points out here are on the weapons that are aimed at you. You pull any of that Augustine and Gaius nonsense around me, and I’ll kill you myself.

I smiled, recalling his reference to the excessively polite characters from Imperial drama. Carbo liked to pretend to be “just a simple soldier,” but sometimes the mask slipped.

Still, I took a moment to point out that even the Red Whirlwinds would have managed such an easy target- probably. Or they would have if they hadn’t fallen into bickering about which end of the mace was which, and how to use it, and where to aim…. That thought struck a bit close to home, so I decided to otherwise just keep quiet and accept the results. Athynae was going to be Athynae; I could accept the inevitable or else count my bruises after I tried to stop her and failed.

But that did not mean a complete absence of whimsy. Doffing an imaginary hat, I executed an elaborate bow and indicated to Athynae that she could precede me. For her part, she rolled her eyes and looked as if she was waging a battle to not stick her tongue out at me. Then, rather than going into the passage I had indicated, she stepped into the darkness across the room. When she came back into the light, she flourished her silver dagger- the one she had thrown when she killed the first werewolf- and gave me a smirk as she sheathed it in her boot. I stifled a sigh and shrugged, reminding myself yet again that competing with Athynae was an exercise in frustration- and that most things were competitions to her.

But that was more familiar territory, and a comfort to me. We were still in an ancient tomb, filled with unnatural monsters intent on killing us- or turning us into equally awful monsters, but… we were together. And that was enough. I would have preferred being back at home, planning a raid on the pastry table or racing our guar across the hillsides. But training has to have a reason, and play comes to an end. As trying as she could be, I could not imagine facing this situation with anyone but Athynae.

And just as I resolved myself to be more accommodating, she stopped in the middle of a large chamber, seemingly at a loss as to where we should go next. When I quietly asked if there was some problem, she answered tersely, pointing out that we had three passages from which to choose. I had seen the layout, and made a decision, based on… well, experience, I suppose. When I suggested we take the left-hand passage, explaining my thinking. Athynae gave me an odd look, composed of equal parts annoyance and… admiration? Without a word, she edged closer to the opening I had indicated, closing her eyes to test the air.

Her caution pleased me; if my reasoning about the room beyond was correct, chances were there would be a werewolf waiting inside. Despite my resolution, it was still difficult to let ‘Thyna precede me into danger. However, I also had no desire to get perforated by her enthusiasm. Actually, that was not fair. Before she began hurling pointy projectiles around, she would at least knock me to the floor. Best just to give her the lead. ‘Thyna goes in first. I might just as well make that a motto- maybe I could inscribe it on the back of my shield… perhaps in abbreviated form.

My appreciation of that sentiment came an instant later, as she dropped her hands to her sash, then whipped them back and then forward, all in one continuous motion, sending a deadly barrage of throwing stars into the dim chamber. Based on the resultant howls of pain, her aim had been true. She cleared the doorway and stepped smoothly to the left, drawing Dreamer as she did. I followed, taking the right side, keeping shield and mace at the ready as my eyes adjusted.

A stone cube stood in the center of the chamber and something rested atop it. Of more immediate interest was the werewolf snarling and twitching against the wall behind the stone block. I wondered why the beast did not attack until I saw the gleam of silver piercing his flesh. Athynae had pinned him in place, and he was not going anywhere- except to whatever plane of Oblivion was reserved for his kind. His struggles slowed and finally stopped as the silver weapons completed their work. He hung limp and I glanced at Athynae. Her face might have been a mask carved of granite, but I could not stop myself from asking,

“Don’t you think that was bit… excessive?”

She continued to stare at the dead lycanthrope and replied, “Maybe. Those are six of my best stars.”

It seemed wise to save the discussion for a later time, so I looked at the object resting on the stand. A length of braided leather, reinforced with small silver bands, held a pair of wolf fangs and a pair of bear claws, ivory and black in the flickering torchlight. To mundane sight, it was a simple amulet, such as any hunter might craft and wear. But my blood reacted to something in the magic of the totem. It felt… older… than any other enchanted item I had ever encountered. It spoke of dark forests and deep snow, of a time when we weak humans were hunted at least as much as we were hunters. Satisfied that it was what we had come for, I carefully lifted the cord and dropped the totem into a leather bag. Though Korst considered me one of the Skaal, I would not presume to wear the artifact, especially when I did not know its powers.

I looked once more at the dead beast hanging from the wall. Perhaps Athynae’s actions had not been “excessive,” after all. We had completed the task Korst had given us, but I did not think we were finished. Athynae had turned to guard the entry while I examined the totem, and I watched her nostrils flare as she tested the air.

“Are there others?”

She nodded and held up four fingers. So. Although we had the totem, there was work still to be done. We could neither of us leave any of Hircine’s hounds roaming free. That understanding needed no words.

The harrowing of the tomb put the final touch on our pact to work together, relying on strengths and bolstering weaknesses without getting in each other’s way. It was not a perfect solution; I was concerned about Thyna’s night-blindness and her tendency to rush straight ahead without stopping to plan- or at least without bothering to inform me of what her plan might be. But we were no longer two individual warriors who happened to be in the same place at the same time- we had forged a new bond, one of shared blood and triumph.

When Athynae confirmed that the last werewolf was dead, I cleaned the Gift and handed her a bit of cloth to do the same for Dreamer.

“I will meet you back at the entry; I want to take care of some things.”

She quirked an eyebrow at me, but left the question unspoken. She knew that the tomb had only one exit, so there was no chance of my trying to head off on my own- even if I had intended to do so. What I had in mind was more grisly- making sure that the lycanthropes would never have a chance to harm anyone. For a number of reasons, I rarely used my magic in combat. First, because it was not easy to cast spells while encased in steel- especially not when I was also holding a mace in one hand and a shield in the other. Possibly I could have trained my eyebrows to make the necessary gestures, but I was not as adept with that language as Mother- or Athynae. However, when the situation permitted, I could use a basic fire spell to good effect- for example, to incinerate the bodies of all the werewolves. The odor of burnt fur and flesh was sickening in the narrow confines of the tomb, but not as much as the thought that my negligence might allow someone else to fall victim to the disease they carried. The last one I destroyed was in the chamber that had held the totem; and I performed one additional chore while I was there.

When I rejoined Athynae at the entrance to the tomb, I dropped her throwing stars into her hand with the remark, “Yours, I believe?”

This post has been edited by treydog: Apr 6 2014, 11:10 PM

[haute ecole rider]

I stifled I sigh and shrugged, reminding myself yet again that competing with Athynae was an exercise in frustration- and that most things were competitions to her.

Did you mean "a"? That's the problem with reading these stories too many times - little things like "I" and "a" tend to read alike!

As trying as she could be, I could not imagine facing this situation with anyone but Athynae.

Score for Athlain!

Before she began hurling pointy projectiles around, she would at least knock me to the floor. Best just to give her the lead. ‘Thyna goes in first. I might just as well make that a motto- maybe I could inscribe it on the back of my shield… perhaps in abbreviated form.

I actually have a character in a far different world who says that about her squad leader!

She nodded and held up four fingers. So. Although we had the totem, there was work still to be done. We could neither of us leave any of Hircine’s hounds roaming free. That understanding needed no words.

Spoken like a true partner. A certain pilus is nodding her head in total agreement!

When I rejoined Athynae at the entrance to the tomb, I dropped her throwing stars into her hand with the remark,

“Yours, I believe?”

Did you want a paragraph break after remark, ? Just wondered at the rather abrupt change here. That said, I wanted to stand up and salute Athlain right here. Julian's wanderings as a poor, recovering addict starting out with nothing has taught me a hard lesson about never letting good weapons go to waste (or leaving them behind). Especially as 'Thyna had said those were "six of her best stars."

I am so excited and happy to see both 'Thyna and Athlain posting again, and to see their story being continued. Their relationship isn't all smooth sailing, but it is built on solid rock, and this is where we get to see it. Never mind the slammed doors, the shouted F-word, the pouting and the pummeling. Right here we see that the two of them are inseparable. Mehrunes Dagon had better think twice about invading Tamriel with those two on the prowl (patrol?)!