Printable Version of Topic

Posted by: haute ecole rider Aug 18 2010, 03:46 PM

Here is the first of a third thread for Old Habits Die Hard. I appreciate all of you staying with Julian and I this far, and hope you stick with us to the end!

For those who want to go back to the beginning, here you go:
http://chorrol.com/forums/index.php?showtopic=4423&st=0
http://chorrol.com/forums/index.php?showtopic=4467

Posted by: haute ecole rider Aug 18 2010, 04:04 PM

Now Julian has to confront her old nemesis.

******************
Chapter 14.1 Skooma Cravings

Neen-zun paused in his rowing to catch his breath. Slumped in the bow of the skiff, I glanced at the thin Argonian, then at the Bay surrounding us. Before we started out, he had cut the arrowheads out of my arm. The wounds still throbbed, but at least they didn’t grind when I moved my arm. I lowered my hand to the scabbard of my katana.

“I am ssorry,” the Argonian caught my wary movement. “I am tired today.” He shook his head, rubbing at his right shoulder. “Give me a moment.”

“How did you come to owe gro-Dragol so much?” I decided to learn a little more about him. It would help me decide if I trusted him or not.

“I wass addicted to skooma, yearss ago,” Neen-zun looked down at his hands, loosely clasped on the oars. “I sstarted borrowing from gro-Dragol to pay for it after I losst my job and ussed up my ssavingss.” Shipping the oars, he rubbed his thumbs into his palms. “I owed him a couple hundred drakess, and had become quite ill and usseless.”

I watched him as he fell silent, his eyes growing distant. “What happened, then?” I asked quietly when he didn’t speak for several seconds.

Neen-zun blinked dull eyes at me, his thumbs stilling in his palms. “My hatchling, my beautiful daughter -” his voice caught momentarily. “Sshe was ssupporting uss by gathering herbss for the Magess Guild. Banditss caught her while she wass outsside. They raped her, and killed her -”

I closed my eyes against the grief threading his tone. “I am sorry, Neen-zun.”

“I losst the will to live,” Neen-zun resumed after several moments. “I tried to kill mysself with sskooma. Ssilly me, Argonianss can’t overdosse on sskooma. Marz found me at the bottom of the bluff behind the Magess Guild.”

“She healed you?” I asked, thinking of what she had already done for me. “She’s very good at it.”

“Yess, sshe got rid of the cravingss,” Neen-zun nodded agreement. “But sshe couldn’t heal my heart. Nor could sshe make my debt to gro-Dragol go away. I had to go to work for him.” He picked up the oars, placing them back into the water with a soft plop. “I ferry people back and forth to Fort Grief to pay off my obligationss.”

We were silent as he rowed the rest of the way across the Bay. By the time we tied up at the Bravil city dock, the sun was already down. Neen-zun jumped onto the dock and turned to give me a hand out of the rowboat. With grateful acceptance of his help, I limped onto the weathered boards and turned to look at him. The thin Argonian, grey with ill health and malnutrition, returned my gaze steadily.

“Thank you,” I said to him. I fumbled the Khajiit’s drakes out of my wallet and gave them to him. He stared at the six heavy coins in his hand, then looked back at me. “Get yourself a good meal,” I said, “and some new clothes.”

“Thank you, Julian of Anvil,” he hissed gladly at me. He remained by the rowboat as I turned and began climbing the steep stairs back up to the top of the bluff overlooking the canal. The pounding headache caused vertigo, making me stop halfway up the steps to catch my breath. I fought down the craving for the wine in the makeshift sack I held in my right hand.

Finally at the top, I turned right, towards the Fighters Guild, instead of left, where the Chapel and the Mages Guild stood. I caught myself only when I reached the building housing the skooma den. The faint glow gleamed between the chinks in the shuttered window on the uppermost floor.

The flickering light of candles. The acrid taste of the skooma. The warmth cascading around me, enveloping me, shielding me from the world. The easing of the constant pain. The silencing of the smith’s hammer. The sensation of floating a meter above the malodorous bedroll I lay on. The stretching of time and space. Finally, limbo.

“Julian!” The voice broke into my fragmented memories and brought me back to the present, with the smith’s hammer, the bitter taste in my mouth, and the pain of my half-healed injuries. I turned my head to look west, towards the Mages Guild. A tall figure approached me, shrouded in shadows. I reached for my katana before the other stepped into a pool of flickering yellow cast by a nearby streetlamp. Carandial.

My hand moved away from the katana’s hilt and I turned to face him. The concern and worry on his face gave way to alarm when he took in my battered appearance. Halting before me, he reached for my shoulders, but I stepped back, avoiding his hands. “Julian?” he repeated, more hesitantly this time. “Are you all right?”

Slowly I shook my head, wincing at the pain the movement caused. “No, not at all,” I answered, my voice dry and crackling. He regarded me silently for several seconds, then his gaze moved upwards towards the skooma den above us.

“You need healing, not skooma,” he stated flatly. “Come, walk with me to the Chapel. I will get Marz for you.”

Again I shook my head. “It is late, and she is probably asleep. I do not want to wake her.”

Carandial was silent for another few seconds. “Can you make it through the night without going there?” he pointed at the top floor of the rickety building.

He is right, I won’t last the night. I hung my head, shamed by my weakness. Carandial laid one hand gently on my right shoulder. “Come on,” his voice turned quiet. “I’ll walk you to the Chapel.” He stepped to my right side and gently nudged me in that direction.

I didn’t argue, but limped west down the cobblestoned street. The tall Altmer matched his stride with mine, but did not speak again until we entered the Chapel. My eyes on the altar at the far end of the nave, I turned to him. “Wait, let me try something first,” I said. He nodded and waited near the stairs to the Chapel private quarters while I continued on.

Reaching the altar, I placed my right hand on the cold stone rim. Please, Akatosh, don’t turn your back on me now.

The smith’s hammer softened as the healing coiled from my belly over me, taking away the pain in my left arm and right knee. The horrid taste in my mouth dissipated, and my vision sharpened. I leaned forward onto my braced right arm in relief. Is it really so simple? Pray to Akatosh and trust in him?

“No, it iss not so ssimple,” Marz’s voice sounded behind me. Startled, I turned to look at her over my left shoulder. “But it helpss, doess it not?” she continued, joining me at the altar. My gaze slid past her to Carandial, where he remained near the stairs. I saw his shrug in the dimness. He didn’t get her. Marz came up on her own.

“Let me ssee you, Julian,” Marz held her hands up and touched my temples with her fingers. “You came sso closse tonight.” Her beautiful orange eyes closed, and I felt her warm healing pass into my skull, silencing the smith for good.

“Why is praying not so simple, Marz?” I whispered as she took her hands away.

“If praying iss automatic, and done without thinking,” she answered, holding my gaze with hers, “it iss meaninglesss. But when done from the heart,” she laid the palm of her right hand over my breastbone, “the Godss can only resspond.” Now Marz took my right hand in both of hers. “Tonight, you came closse to falling again. But you didn’t.”

“Carandial stopped me,” I began, but Marz shook her head.

“No, it was your own dessire,” she countered softly. “You knew what lay down that road, and you didn’t want to travel it again. Though your body may cry out for limbo, your heart would not let it go.” I looked down at her long-fingered hands, seeing the beautiful colors in her scaled skin. She gave me a gentle squeeze. “Carandial was there, yess, but ultimately you made your own choice to come here insstead.”

With a shake of my head, I stepped away from the altar and sat down. “I have no choice, really,” I murmured. “There is something I must do.”

“Yess,” Marz followed me, sitting beside me. “You have to tell Urssanne that her hussband iss dead.”

I glanced at Marz. “How did you know?”

“I knew you went to ssee the ussurer after Urssane sspoke to you,” Marz’s hissing voice was soft. “I knew you went with Neen-zun. He takess people to an island in the Bay. Ssometimess they come back, ssometimess they don’t. I guessed that Aleron had gone there when I found out he had dissappeared.” She shook her head, her eyes sad. “I didn’t think he would come back.”

I looked down at my hands. “Aleron is dead,” I confirmed Marz’s guess. “But that is not the only task before me.” For the first time that day, I let myself think about Martin and the daedric artifact I needed to obtain for him.

I realized that I hated the idea of going to a Daedric Lord, especially after seeing the sacrificial altar at Mehrunes Dagon’s shrine. The thought of Jeelius being killed for some tenuous being still made my blood run cold. With the recognition that I had been postponing this task as long as I could, I shivered.

Marz sat quietly, her eyes on me. Meeting her steady gaze, I stifled a sigh. “I must see Ursanne in the morning, give her the news,” I said. “Then I have to leave Bravil.”

“You need time to resst,” Marz protested. I shook my head.

“I’ve delayed this task long enough,” I answered, hearing the implacability in my voice. I tried to smile at the concerned Argonian. “Thank you, Marz, for your healing. You have no idea how much you’ve helped me tonight.”

Marz smiled, her pointed teeth gleaming in the dim light. She rose with me, and grasped my upper arms firmly. “Remember, if you are hurt and far from help, the Nine are alwayss near. They will hear you if you call them.”

“Even in the Deadlands?” I asked her. Her hands fell away.

“You would go into more Oblivion Gatess?” she asked. “Issn’t two enough?”

“If they’re opening outside cities all over Cyrodiil,” I answered, shrugging, “I don’t know what else I can do.”

“Call the Divines, even in the Deadlandss,” Marz said after a moment. “Who knowss, they may hear you and give you aid.”

“Who knows, indeed,” I answered. “I will remember.” Grasping her hands in mine, I smiled, more easily this time. “Good night, Marz.”

“Good night, Julian,” she answered, as we walked to the stairway, where Carandial still waited. She murmured a greeting to the Altmer mage before descending the stairs. Carandial fell into step beside me as we headed for the doors.

“I’m glad to see you feeling much better, Julian,” he said quietly as he opened one of the heavy panels for me.

“Yes, I’m glad, too,” I answered. “Now I need to sleep.”

“Of course you do,” Carandial fell silent as we walked the short distance between the Chapel and the Mages Guild. He paused at the bottom of the steps as I moved to the door.

When I turned to look at him, I was startled by his expression, revealed by the double moonlight. Then he smiled that crooked smile, and the expression was gone. “Good night, Julian. Sleep well.” He turned and walked away.

“Good night, Carandial,” I murmured to his retreating back.

Locking the door behind me, I leaned against it, my breath shallow. That look Carandial gave me. Was that a trick of the moonlight? Or a figment of my imagination? It reminded me of how Jared looked at me all those years ago, when I was young and foolish. He had stolen my heart, then cruelly destroyed it. After that, I had joined the Legion, vowing never to be so vulnerable again. Since then I had not received that look from a man, not until recently. First that Redguard -no, Blackguard - from the Marie Elena, now Carandial. Why him? What does an Altmer see in me anyway?

Posted by: D.Foxy Aug 18 2010, 04:23 PM

Strange that I had just watched, and liked, "I'm not afraid" by Eminem just before I read this new thread...

(Yes, I have both Eminem and Bing Crosby, R.Kelly and Edith Piaf in my CD collection. Make what you will out of that.)

Remember, Julian
A kiss has no age
A smile stands out of time
Like the remembered scent
Of Rosemary and Thyme -

If it is true that Hearts can sing
Past the wasteland that flesh brings
And also true that the mind does know
Secrets beyond the Winter's aching blow

Then smile as you take the gift of spring in the Winter
And laugh with the wrinkles in Flesh and in Fate
Old apples may be shriveled, but their taste's far from bitter
And Love is always welcome no matter how Late.

Posted by: hazmick Aug 18 2010, 04:27 PM

Hurrah for Carandial. Hurrah for Marz. Hurrah for Neen-Zun! It's good to see more Argonains helping people out. Such a friendly race.

That skooma den is naught but trouble, good to see Julian resist the temptations.

Onward towards the next task, a daedric prince. *shudder* It should be fun.

Posted by: SubRosa Aug 18 2010, 05:07 PM

So Carandial is sweet on Julian! *imagines all the slash possibilities* I thought you portrayed him, and his restrained, feelings for Julian quite well.


nits:
Neen-zun's story is heart-breaking. All the more so because of how often reality is that way. However, it all comes off as an infodump. I realize that taking the time to bring it all out gradually though dialogue might have taken an extra segment, and you are probably trying to avoid being long-winded when you have already spent a lot of story time in Bravil already, but you might want to look for a better way to bring that information out.


Finally, limbo.
This would feel more ES-like if it were Finally, Oblivion.

Posted by: Acadian Aug 18 2010, 06:08 PM

I'm glad that you displayed Neen-Zun as an example of the, no doubt, many tragedies in Kurdan's wake.

Wonderful that Carandial happened upon Julian that night and coaxed her towards the Chapel of Mara.

Marz is amazingly insightful! I can see that Buffy will have to spend more time getting to know her.

Yes, the eyes and voices of Argonian women are so very beautiful. I'm delighted that Julian sees it too!

I'm also glad that Julian is beginning to realize that she certainly does have qualities that would attract a man. I think Carandial has excellent taste. Perhaps they will go riding together? He has a beautiful big bay. Ok, I'm just teasing - I know Julian has a very full plate right now.

Did I tell you that this story continues to be a joy to read?

Posted by: treydog Aug 18 2010, 07:55 PM

Another wonderful entry. And you capture the compulsive nature of addiction quite well-

Saved by Carandial! Good to see a non-snooty Altmer to go with the endearing Argonians.

Your ear and eye for detail are first-rate, and your characters are all beautifully 3-dimensional.

Posted by: Olen Aug 19 2010, 05:30 PM

Good show on that chapter though I suspect that the cravings aren't done yet... and what's coming, if she accepts it, won't help. Certainly she's a rich character and that makes her fun to read because the slate isn't so blank and I can't imgine how her daedric quest will end up. With duty on one side and her morals on the other... well...

The mention of the races also has me thinking that you've handled tht very well. It's so subtle that I didn't really notice (barring the whole double s thing with the argonians which I not a huge fan of but that's entirely my preferance), but there are differences which fit with the game description but aren't nearly as glaring. Your Altmer are rather superior (even Carandail in his own strange way) but it makes sense the way you show it. The Argonian's are claerly different too, they seem to be generally quite stolid and trustworthy, no wonder Julian likes them.

As the others have said, a joy to read.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Aug 20 2010, 04:03 PM

@Foxy: Thanks for pointing out that even old women can feel frisky!

@hazmick: Do you happen to have a twin named hazmat? I didn’t realize until you pointed it out how many friendly Argonians are in that segment!

@SubRosa: I chose limbo over Oblivion to differentiate the bliss/oblivion of a drug-induced haze from the insanity that characterizes the plane of Oblivion in TES. I’m glad you liked the way I portrayed Carandial’s reaction at finding Julian so beat up. I’ll take your comment regarding Neen=Zun’s story under consideration, and revisit it at some time soon.

@Acadian: As someone who grew up on stories of Capone’s Chicago (not to mention a couple of cousins of my dad’s who actually ran bootleg for the guy), I know all too well the price such gangsters exact on their neighborhoods. As for Carandial and Julian going for a ride, well, maybe to the nearby Ayleid ruin . . .

@Auggie Doggie: Carandial is one of those NPC’s that just took over my keyboard and started telling me this is how it is. I had no choice but to go along with him. TBH, he is one of my favorite Altmer in TES IV.

@Olen: Julian will have to confront something even bigger than her skooma addiction or her loyalty to Martin. I’m glad you enjoy the way I’ve portrayed Altmer and Argonians so far, I hope to develop the other races as well as I have those two. As for the conflict between her duty to Martin and her innate nature - oh, well . . .

Julian wraps up a couple of loose ends.

****************
Chapter 14.2 Bearer of Bad News

Ardaline was shy until I showed her the strange plant. “Oh, this is what you were talking about the other night,” she remarked, turning the leaves in her long fingers. She stepped to the window, where the overcast light streamed in, and held it up. Sniffing it, she stroked the soft leaves thoughtfully. “Yes, I've seen them before. Don't really know much about them. I'm not a specialist in plant samples.”

After she handed the plant back to me, she considered the situation for a few moments. “I know someone who does. If you make your way to Skingrad, look up Sinderion. He's one of the foremost authorities on the alchemical properties of plants.” She smiled at me. “Let me know what you find out!”

“Thanks, I will,” I promised Ardaline.

************************
Ursanne Loche was walking towards the Chapel when she saw me. She stopped and waited for me to catch up to her. As I drew near, her face fell. “Oh no, something’s wrong, I can tell. Tell me what’s happened to Aleron?”

“I’m very sorry, ma’am, he’s dead,” I answered slowly, looking away from the pain in her face.

“When I saw the grave look on your face,” she said quietly, “I knew something bad had happened to him. And,” her voice hardened, pulling my eyes up to her angry expression, “what of that fetcher, Kurdan?”

“Gro-Dragol lives no longer,” I matched her tone. Ursanne took a deep breath, her face sagging into grief.

“Then Aleron’s death has been avenged,” she murmured. “I told him not to gamble, foolish man. But he wouldn’t listen.” She touched my right arm. “Come with me, please. There is something I must give you before you go.”

The old Breton woman led me to her home on the second floor of one of the ramshackle buildings along the north wall. Inside the humble but tidy dwelling, she moved to a chest at the back wall. I limped to the table, and took out the gold I had set aside. Quietly I placed the coins I had collected from Loche and gro-Dragol on the rough wooden surface, along with Loche’s ring and key. Ursanne returned to me with a large book in her hands. Her gaze fell on the coins and ring, then she looked back at me, pale.

“You know the ring,” I said softly to her. “I think your husband would want you to have it. The gold, too.”

“He never had that much gold,” Ursanne eyed the small stack. I shook my head.

“He only had a few drakes,” I told her. “The rest is a donation from gro-Dragol.” I shrugged. “Small consolation for losing your husband, I’m certain, but better than nothing.”

Ursanne looked down at the volume in her hands. The book, its leather cover worn, was nevertheless of good quality. She pushed the book into my hands. “Here, let me give you this,” she muttered. “Aleron told me to use this to bail him out of jail if he ever got into trouble. He - he won’t be needing this anymore,” she fought back the sob in her voice, raising teary eyes to meet mine bravely. “I want you to have it. I won’t take no for an answer. Thank you for all you’ve done.” As I accepted the book, she turned away, her left hand touching the brass pearl ring on the table. The sob escaped her control. “Now, please, I want to be alone.”

Unable to think of something to comfort her in her grief, I turned and limped to the door. Quietly, I let myself out, feeling quite depressed by the woman’s loss.

************************
Thirty minutes later, I found Captain Lerus in the barracks, preparing to head out on her rounds. She spotted me and waved me into her room. As we took the same seats we had used a couple of nights ago, I met her gaze.

“Aleron Loche is dead,” I told her bluntly. Her fine brows drew down in a scowl.

“Explain,” she said icily.

I told her about gro-Dragol’s operation on Fort Grief Island, and how he had lured first Loche, then me out there, for clients to kill. The muscles in her jaw clenched visibly as I described finding Loche there, his request that I go into the Hunter’s Run to find the key. Skimming over my time in the dungeon, I told her how gro-Dragol killed Loche before I could stop him, and that he tried to kill me, as well. I also explained how Neen-zun had become bound to gro-Dragol. When I finished, she leaned back in her chair and regarded me intently.

“Some of my guards report that you came back in very bad shape, Julian,” she said quietly. “Metternach said you were standing outside the skooma den before Carandial found you.”

I closed my eyes and turned my face away. “I was concussed,” I murmured. “The headaches that drove me to skooma in the first place came back.”

“And now?” her voice was just a whisper. I met her gaze.

“They’re gone, thanks to Marz,” I answered. “And to Akatosh. I’m much better now.” Lerus held my gaze, as if judging the truth of my words.

“gro-Dragol did that to you?”

Shaking my head, I held her eyes. “No, gro-Dragol fights like a street bully. Two of the hunters weren’t hard, I just sicced a summoned skeleton on them. Old Bones wore them down for me. But the last one -” I trailed off, seeing again how the big Orc carried his weapon, how he circled me. “He fought like a Legion soldier,” I said finally. “I think he was trained in the Legion, at least.”

Lerus scowled. “A deserter?”

“I don’t know,” I answered. “I didn’t look that closely at him.”

Lerus made her decision. “All right, I’ll send a squad of the Guard over there to collect the bodies. Think Neen-zun will ferry them over?”

“If you pay him better than gro-Dragol did, I’m sure he will,” I answered. “But tell your men to stay out of the Hunter’s Run. There’s a lot of bad traps in there. Not worth dragging bodies of vermin out.”

“We need to identify them, if we can,” Lerus responded, her voice hard. “I’ll warn them to be careful.” She drew a blank parchment and picked up her quill. “What kind of traps are we talking about?”

I held my left hand out for the quill. Surprised, she handed it to me. My left arm on the desk, I sketched out a rough map of the Hunter’s Run, marking the locations of the hunters and the traps. As I drew, Lerus rose and moved to look over my shoulder. Explaining each trap as I marked them, I told her about the hole in the floor with the spikes beneath.

“They can bring boards for that,” she commented. “And healing potions for the gas. But the darts worry me.”

“I got by them by sticking close to the wall,” I said. “And waiting until they stopped to reset. Your men can use the bodies as shields on the way out.”

“Yes, but if that Orc is as big as you say, it will be tough to carry him out past them.”

“No, just take the short cut and drop him over the edge onto the bridge.” I answered, indicating the route on the rough map I had created.

When I put the quill down, she took the parchment from me and studied it. “This is good, Julian. You’ve got a head for mazes.”

“I’m not sure how accurate that is, Captain,” I responded warily. “Remember, I was concussed on the way back, my memory could be off.”

“Thanks, Julian,” Lerus held her right hand out to me. Startled by the unexpected courtesy, I clasped it firmly, matching her pressure.

Posted by: SubRosa Aug 20 2010, 04:16 PM

Poor Ursanne, going back to face her is always so heartbreaking. I think you did a good job of conveying that hearbreak.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Aug 20 2010, 04:26 PM

Thanks, SubRosa.

I just wanted to let everyone know that I rewrote the opening paragraphs of Chapter 14 (post #2) to better convey Neen-zun's story.

Posted by: SubRosa Aug 20 2010, 04:40 PM

That comes out much more organically. The added details like Marz finding him behind the Mages Guild make the story feel more real as well.

Posted by: hazmick Aug 20 2010, 04:47 PM

No, I don't have a twin. Why do you ask? All of the best stories have at least one friendly Argonian

Poor Ursanne You did a good job showing her grief.

I agree with SubRosa, the extra details of our boatman are brilliant.

Posted by: Acadian Aug 20 2010, 05:03 PM

I went back and read the revision of Neen-Zun. Yummo!

Three scenes.

I. Yay, it sounds like Julian will get to meet Sinderion at some point!

II. Oh my. Your whole scene with Ursanne was masterful. Not only did it convey your intent, but I was quite struck at your brilliant use of dialogue and speech tags and the like to bring it to life. In fact, I read it twice - the second time to learn from you.

III. Respect slowly earned seems somehow more valuable. It seems the two ladies have a better understanding of each other. I very much liked thier interaction - especially the unspoken parts.

Julian has quite the full dance card in the Niben Bay area it seems. Lucky me!

Posted by: treydog Aug 20 2010, 05:07 PM

A sad but necessary task, telling Ursanne that what she already feared has come to pass. But, when the worst has happened, you at least know it is the worst.... And we have another living, breathing individual to populate your rich and detailed world.

And Julian takes an important step on the road to self-respect (and respect from a certain guard captain, whether she wants it or not) by admitting her temptation.

This installment has the feel of some doors closing and others opening... A breath taken between bouts.

Julian is so real to me, that I can feel her aching head and bum knee. More important, I can feel her determination. All of that is a credit to your brilliant writing.

Posted by: mALX Aug 20 2010, 05:56 PM

Well I for one always thought Julian was beautiful. But that is one chapter back. I always like the way you personalize the quests, no matter how many times I've done these quests you have found a new way to tell the story that keeps it intriguing !!

Posted by: Destri Melarg Aug 20 2010, 06:42 PM

Chapter 14.1 Skooma Cravings

Neen-zun’s story is heartbreaking. Once again you have crafted an Argonian with whom it is impossible not to sympathize. I think when you finish Julian’s story your next character should be from Black Marsh (maybe in the Shivering Isles, or as the Divine Crusader ).

This was a perfect description of the lure that leads one to addiction. I like the fact that you chose limbo over Oblivion. An addict is never seeking Hell, an addict is seeking escape.

Chapter 14.2 Bearer of Bad News

I am beginning to agree with ‘Rosa from a few chapters ago. I find it maddening that Captain Lerus knows so much about the goings on in her city, yet had no idea people were being ferried out to Fort Grief. Even Marz knew about that! Okay Marz might be a bad example, given her perceptive nature, but you get the point I am making. Her guards are giving all these reports, yet she does nothing about them. It sounds more and more like Lerus is all talk and gruff posturing while she waits for someone else to do her job. Even her grudging respect at the end rubbed me the wrong way. Julian closes the Oblivion Gate outside the city and stops gro-Dragol’s murderous Hunter’s Run while Lerus sits scowling in her office, and Lerus finally deigns to shake Julian’s hand? It is not in her nature, but I would have cheered if Julian had spit on the offered appendage!

Posted by: haute ecole rider Aug 22 2010, 07:11 PM

@SubRosa: I’m glad you liked the rewrite of the opening paragraphs in 14.1 better.

@hazmick: Every time I see your name, I think of hazmat, which around here is an abbreviation of Hazardous Materials. In my line of work, we deal with OSHA, and have to place hazmat labels on everything, which borders on the ridiculous. That's why I asked about your twin!

@Acadian: I always found the nirnroot quest to be the best excuse for exploring Cyrodiil! Aww, you liked how I handled the dialogue with Ursanne? :Blush: Thanks for enjoying the interaction with Lerus.

@treydog: Your summation is much, much appreciated!

@mALX: I’m glad you are enjoying familiar quests! I hope to keep you entertained!

@Destri: I really don’t know why I treat the Argonians in my story the way I do! I guess it may be because I’m sensitive to discrimination, and every time I hear one being called pondscum in the game, I just want to leap to their defense! An Argonian as the Divine Crusader? Hmm. As for Lerus, I hope to explain her situation to both you and SubRosa’s satisfaction in just a few more posts (Chapter 14.7).

Julian has another unsavory task to perform.

***************
Chapter 14.3 The Shrine of Sheogorath

Paint stopped beside the Wayshrine. I looked around, noting the worn stone steps in the road that led down to the waterside, the bridge across the Niben River and the ruins of the old fort on the opposite bank. All the landmarks were as Gwinas had said.

“When you reach the Wayshrine of Stendarr, the Green Road will turn east, towards the river, and drop down to the riverbank over a series of old stone steps. Be careful if you ride your horse down those steps, they can be slippery. On the bank, the Green Road turns back south to follow the river, but there is a path that continues east across a small bridge. You’ll see Fort Redman on the other bank there. Beware at the bridge, bandits like to ambush travelers there.”

Dismounting from Paint, I limped up to the Wayshrine. We had met a couple of bandits on the road south of Bravil, where it followed the southern shore of Niben Bay, and again where the road passed between a cave on the riverbank and a fort perched high on the hill to the west. Apparently they thought me fair game, since they attacked me. However my Legion training and Jelin’s Sunblade Dance educated them otherwise.

I prayed to Stendarr, and felt his healing response. My face turned west, I looked past Paint’s profile towards the high ridge beyond. Here, the Elsweyr border pressed close to the road, roughly paralleling the high ridge of hills that led to mountains beyond. Again, Gwinas’s voice echoed in my mind:

“From the Wayshrine, turn west and hike up into the hills. Sheogorath is almost due west from the Wayshrine, but you may need to detour a little bit to get around the steep slopes in between. It’s only about a kilometer or so.”

Do I leave Paint here by the Wayshrine? I looked east at the bridge. I could just make out a couple of figures standing there. Under cover of the shrubs and boulders between the Wayshrine and the road, I moved to where I could see them more clearly. A Khajiit and a Dunmer, both in leather armor, stood watching the Green Road. The Dunmer was armed with a bow, the Khajiit with a mace. They had the scruffy appearance of bandits, but I wanted to be sure. I would be leaving Paint alone for an unknown period of time, and bandits were known to abscond with unattended horses.

Back on the road, I walked openly down the worn stone steps, still wet from recent rain, toward the pair. The Dunmer unshouldered her bow, stepping back towards the bridge. The Khajiit ran at me with mace upraised. A sidestep put him between me and the female Dunmer while I drew my katana and braced for the blow. As I expected, the Khajiit dropped the mace in an overhanded strike. With another step to the right, I deflected the mace with the Wolf and spun into him, hooking my left foot behind his right knee and kicking his right leg out from under him.

He fell towards me, and I backed up, just in time to avoid an arrow which whizzed past in front of my chest. The Wolf lifted high, I brought the edge of the shield down hard on the Khajiit’s back. While the bandit lay howling in the mud, I whirled the buckler up towards the archer. The arrow smacking into the Wolf staggered me, but I kept my feet and darted towards the Dunmer.

She lowered her bow and turned, running for the bridge. Once she gained a little distance on me, she nocked another arrow to her bow and turned back to me. I risked exposure and tossed a flare at her, more to distract her than to do her harm, and ran after the spell.

The bridge, constructed of boards laid on a rope suspension, trembled under our feet as I closed on the archer, katana ready to stab forward. She released her arrow a little early, and I ducked, simultaneously raising my shield. When I lowered the buckler, she had dropped her bow and drawn her dagger, ready for melee. As I closed with her, I knocked her dagger hand aside with the back of the katana blade and slashed the tip across her chest. The fine blade left a deep gash in her tough leather, and blood seeped through it.

The Dunmer looked down at her chest, and I took advantage of her distraction to stab the katana into her abdomen, just below the edge of her cuirass. The tip of my blade struck the bone of her spine, and I lowered the handle of the katana, driving the tip upwards within her body to do as much damage as I could before withdrawing the blade. She cried out, and fell away, blood and foul fluid oozing from the wound.

I felt pounding footsteps on the shivering bridge and spun to my left in time to deflect the Khajiit’s mace. His enraged eyes glared at me as I knocked his right arm aside with the Wolf and brought the katana down on his right shoulder. The blade bit through his tough leather into the flesh of his upper arm. The mace dropped from his fingers, and he snarled, his left hand coming up to claw at my face. I ducked back to avoid this onslaught and brought the tip of the katana against the Khajiit’s throat to give him a new breathing hole, blood splashing back at me.

Breathlessly I crouched down on the bridge between the two newly dead bandits, and looked back east at the Fort ruins across the river. It would make a logical Bandit hideout, I knew, but I saw no one, heard no outcry.

After a pause long enough to gather drakes, lockpicks, and healing potions from the dead, I stepped over the Khajiit and limped back to the Wayshrine. Leaning against a boulder next to Paint, I cast Carandial’s cleansing spell on myself to remove the blood.

Paint watched me intently, then turned his head and looked southwards. I glanced over my shoulder in that direction, but saw nor heard nothing. After a moment, I took the pack from the cantle and slung it over one shoulder. The bow and quiver were both attached to the saddle; I would leave them with Paint. I had Daedra Slayer at my back, and my katana at my hip.

“You stay here,” I whispered to Paint. He blinked a round brown eye at me before he dropped his head and rubbed his nose on the inside of his foreleg. He shook his head, the motion traveling down his neck into his body, until even his legs shuddered. Then he blew at me. I smiled at his antics and turned west, finding a path that wound uphill among boulders and twisted trees.

As Gwinas had said, I hiked about a kilometer before I spotted a tall statue on the steep slope above me. From my lower altitude, I could only see the top half of the statue. It was of a sharply-dressed dandy, with a neatly trimmed beard and an elaborate waistcoat. I paused, and looked around, for boulders separated me from the shrine. A rough path sought out a relatively gentler slope between large rocks, curving first north before bending back to the shelf in the side of the ridge where the statue stood.

A few minutes later I stared, shocked, at the four half-nude worshippers walking around the shrine. The nearest, a Nord wearing only a shirt with suspenders dangling below its hem, turned and looked at me. “I wish there were children here,” he said to me. A smile warmed his face, but did not touch the madness in his eyes. “Scrumptious, darling children. I haven’t eaten in so long.” He licked his lips. “Ravel will tell me what to do. You, too.”

With a barely suppressed shudder at his words, I avoided looking below the hem of his shirt and moved forward, stepping onto the shelf of rock. An Argonian woman, clad only in a leather helmet and worn, frayed quilted shoes, walked up to me. “I ussed to be a dog,” she hissed at me. “Then I got better. Not a better dog, though. I’m a terrible dog now,” her eyes shifted away. “Tomorrow - who knowss? Ravel may know. Talk to him.”

A hand touched my shoulder, spun me around to face a Breton man. Like the others, he wore little, only a cuirass much like mine, but worn and dirty. “Bugs!” he shouted in my face, spittle spraying from his lips. “Bugs everywhere! All over! Wonderful, tasty bugs!” He released my shoulder, stepping back and shaking his head dismissively. “No time for you. Talk to Ravel. He doesn’t like the bugs. Not even with mead.”

I kept my eyes on his face as I backed away from the raving Breton until I nearly bumped into a female Altmer. Like the Argonian, she was nude except for a helmet, gauntlets and boots. “Have you seen it?” she exclaimed excitedly to me. “Have you seen the light? The bright shining light?” She tapped her naked breast. “I know it. It waits for you. Speak with Ravel,” she pointed at a Dunmer, the only fully clad worshipper in the bunch. “He knows the way.” She wandered away from me.

Uncomfortable with my struggle to keep my eyes on their faces, I limped towards the Dunmer. His white mage’s robe, turned dingy from living in the wilderness, somehow lent him the air of a high priest. The fur helmet he wore did not diminish that sense. “Hello, Ravel,” I said to him.

He turned his head to look at me. “Place?” he answered. I frowned, puzzled by his question, but he continued without waiting for an answer. “Not place? Here. Not here? Welcome to the Grove of Madness, stranger. Or go away. Who knows? Time will tell.”

“I’m looking for the Shrine of Sheogorath,” I said. “I assume I’ve found it?”

“Killed and ate a Bosmer here,” Ravel said to me. “But it made me sick. Saw Lord Sheogorath in the vomitus, so that’s all right. Here to sacrifice? A limb would be nice.”

“How do I summon Lord Sheogorath?” I asked, gathering my courage. I need to get that artifact for Martin. Gods help me if I have to kill someone.

“Then approach the shrine,” Ravel said. He sniffed the air. “Of course, he won’t appear. Because it’s not raining. He loves the rain.” He grinned at me, insanity flickering in his red eyes. “And you’ll need an offering.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, “I think a lesser soul gem, a head of lettuce, and some yarn will do the trick.” Giving a decisive nod, he smiled. “Yes. That’s what Sheogorath wants.”

Nonexistent ants crawled up my spine as I approached the statue. I swung the pack off my shoulder and knelt down to rummage in it. You were right, Gwinas. Thank you. I drew out the lettuce and the yarn I had gathered in Bravil, and the lesser soul gem from Calindil’s shop, placing them on the statue’s plinth.

“Another mortal dares to summon me, and already I am bored,” a light tenor spoke, causing me to jump. I stepped back and looked up at the statue, but it remained motionless. “But enough about me. Let’s talk about you.” The voice paused, then continued, “I could turn you into a goat. Or a puddle. Or a bad idea. I could make you eat your own fingers. Or fall in love with a cloud. Perhaps I could make you into something useful. Let’s find out.” Silence fell for several seconds. A glance behind me revealed that the worshippers had continued with their senseless behavior, ignoring me, with the exception of Ravel, who watched me intently.

“There’s a little settlement called Border Watch,” the disembodied voice drew my attention back to the Shrine. “It’s a nice, peaceful place - and dull, dull dull. You’re going to make their lives interesting. They’re a superstitious bunch. Everything is an omen or a portent. Let’s make one come true. Find their shaman and ask about the K’Sharra prophecy. You are to find a way to make the first two parts come true. I’ll take care of the rest, because it’s the most fun. Now run along.” Again the voice fell silent. I waited, but it did not speak again.

Turning around, I nearly bumped into Ravel. “You’ve spoken to the Madgod. Joy of joys! Are you elated? Excited? Aroused? Blessed are you. Blessed is he!”

Are you nuts? Yes, you are, indeed. With a stifled sigh, I started off to find this settlement.

Posted by: treydog Aug 22 2010, 07:28 PM

I wondered how the cool, rational Julian would fare with the Mad God... Rather well, actually. The addition of Gwinas' directions and his useful advice add some continuity and remind us of one of your many supporting characters.

Something about the bandit fight bothers me, but I cannot quite put my paw on what it is. Perhaps it is the fact that Julian's reason for deciding to take them out is missing? Although it can also be a danger to over-explain. Perhaps it is as simple as: ex-Legion NCO sees outlaws in position to threaten travelers and deals with it. Or, in broader terms-"old habits die hard."

Excellent descriptions again, in a fun (but disturbing) installment.

And the last few lines capture Julian perfectly.

Posted by: hazmick Aug 22 2010, 07:43 PM

would that be the occupational safety and health administration?

YAY SHEOGORATH!! The worshippers are crazier than the residents of the shivering isles, which is strange.

Another Argonian: Beewos and her reference to monty python an the holy grail.

If Julian thought they were crazy, just wait for the K'Sharra prophecy

Posted by: mALX Aug 22 2010, 09:51 PM

I love this quest! Can't wait to see the rest!!!

Posted by: Acadian Aug 23 2010, 01:29 AM

Fun and variety!

Ah, the dilemma of not quite being sure of a stranger's intentions at a distance. See, this is what Buffy admires so much about Julian. She has the courage and skills to confront threats head on.

If I didn't mention it when Carandial introduced this spell back in Bravil, let me say now how clever I think it is.

Ah, I am feverishly taking notes as I read a passage like this - crafted by the grand mistress of horses herself. *where is that darn twirl emoticon?*

This piece of dialogue in game is absolutely among my very favorites.

Something tells me Julian will not be terribly impressed with the task Sheo has in mind.

Posted by: SubRosa Aug 23 2010, 01:33 AM

Hmm, now I am wondering if Julian will meet Wrothken at some time in the near future...

Watching those samurai films is certainly paying off with your combat descriptions. Too bad you do not watch more romance movies, Julian's love life might improve...

He doesn’t like the bugs. Not even with mead.
Some people just have no taste!

Lots of fun a the mad god's shrine. But then Sheogorath is the most fun of all the daedra, to be certain. I am looking forward to seeing Julian, who is such a straight-man, starring in Sheo's comedy.


nits:
the bridge across the Niben River and the ruins of the old Fort on the opposite bank
In this context, fort is not a proper noun (as it would be in the case of Fort Meade), so it ought to be lowercase. Has it ever struck you as odd that Bethesda uses the term 'fort' rather than 'castle' or 'keep'?

Posted by: Olen Aug 23 2010, 11:31 PM

That quest is by far my favourite, brilliantly funny and well put together. I can't imagine Julian appriciating the bizarre humour and sillyness though... or to feel great about what happens.

14.2:
A good rounding off to events in Bravil and the suggestion that she feels annoyed by her moment of weakness but not hung up (or hugely surprised) by it. I do wonder if putting it all down to the headache will prove wise though.

So she's a lefty. Nice little detail though I don't recall any comment on her fighting on the left...

14.3
As I said Sheogorath is a fluffy bunny of a Daedra... and the dialogue is excellent. I can't wait until she has a shot with the reward either.

I'd never thought of him that way... nice description.

Nit:
I think I may have mentioned it in which case ignore but kilometer struck me as lore unfriendly because it is linked to the size of the Earth and has modern connotations. Also miles are mentioned in game here and there, but if you prefer metric then I suppose it's about time fantasy worlds started using a saner system.

Posted by: Winter Wolf Aug 24 2010, 01:57 AM

I am still here, reading along, and enjoying this amazing tale more than ever!!

Julian and Sheogorath, I cannot wait. Lucky it is flaming wolves and not flaming Argonians, otherwise the soldier in Julian would jump to their defense and things could get nasty indeed. Lol.

The way you have written Marz over the last few chapters was awesome. The wisdom and the prescience that you have given her goes perfectly with our little Bravil. Sometimes the most interesting people can be found in the most incongruous places. Bravo!

Posted by: haute ecole rider Aug 24 2010, 05:00 PM

@treydog: For a long time I wondered how Julian would find Sheo’s shrine - after all, there is no one in the game that tells you where to find it. I hate the game compass that shows landmarks as you pass them by, even though they’re not visible. Julian isn’t psychic! Then during one of my playthroughs, Gwinas’s comment just turned on the light bulb, and I knew that’s how! I went back and added a sentence about why Julian went to check out those scruffy folks on the bridge to Fort Redman.

@hazmick: Yes, you must have dealt with OSHA in the past! I agree that the worshippers are nuttier than most folks in the SI. Go figure.

@mALX: I’m glad you love this quest! Personally, as someone whose job is to take care of animals, this is one of my least favorites. The senseless killing of rats, sheep and dogs just don’t sit well with me. Julian doesn’t like it either, as you’ll see.

@Acadian: I think I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again - Paint carries the spirit of my beloved old mare, who passed away last year in March. She had a ton of personality, and often would do little things such as I have described Paint doing, one of which is the tendency to shake herself at appropriate (or inappropriate?) points in a conversation!

@SageRose: It’s funny you should make that comment about romances. Most of what I write are romances - just in the guise of espionage, science fiction, fantasy and historical genres! I love the romance in Robert Ludlum’s novels, and in some of the Korean sageuk I’ve been watching lately. As for Julian, right now she’s too focused on her job to think about romance! Don't worry, it'll come and smack her on the back of the head one of these days.

@Olen: Sheo a fluffy bunny of a Daedric Lord? I don’t think so! TBH I much prefer Azura.

@Winter Wolf: I am delighted that you enjoyed Julian’s stay in Bravil and getting to know Marz.

I know many of you are hoping Julian will tell Sheogorath off. However, both she and I know all too well the futility of reasoning with insanity, especially that of Daedric Lords. So, sorry.

*******************
Chapter 14.4 Sheogorath’s Reward

S’thasa set the rarebit platter in front of me. I sniffed at the aromatic cheese and glanced askance at her. “The house specialty,” she bragged. “My yellow sheep’s cheese is the best in all of Cyrodiil, and Elsweyr, too!”

Cautiously, I tasted the rich dish. The bread was fresh and nutty, complementing the hint of ale and the mustard I could taste in the savory cheese sauce. My empty belly ceased its complaining at the first bite. “Hmm!” I couldn’t help myself. The Khajiit innkeeper smiled, her fangs gleaming in the soft lamplight of the common room.

“We have a fine collection of cheeses herre,” she purred. “It’s been a hobby of mine for yearrs. I've collected cheeses from all over Tamrriel, including the rrare Olrroy cheese!”

“Olroy?” I repeated. “Is it special?”

S’thasa drew herself up, indignant at my uncivilized ignorance. “A morre pungent cheese you'll neverr find. It looks smooth, but it stinks to the heavens and beyond! I keep it locked away tight.” She gestured toward the display cases near the entrance. I had noticed them when I first entered the Border Watch inn. “If I were to trry cooking with it, the smell alone would drraw rrats for miles! It's a lovely converrsation piece, though."

Something clicked in my mind. Rats. They carry bloodlung, bone break fever, and quite a few others. Plague of Vermin, maybe? I recalled Ri’bassa’s words. “It has been told from our fathers, and our fathers’ fathers, that our time in this place will come to an end. My great-great-great-grandfather, K’sharra, foretold of a time when the gods would send us three signs to signal the end of the world.” Ri’bassa had mentioned the Plague of Vermin, in which the town would be overrun by disease carrying beasts. “Rats, I imagine. Filthy creatures. I always keep a few packets of powerful poison around just in case.”

I had to figure out how to attract rats, and how to kill the sheep. I hated the thought of killing the innocent beasts just to please a Daedric Lord. Better than blood sacrifice of man, mer or tailed beast-kin. Though I knew many folks considered Argonians and Khajiit to be less than humans or merkind, I had fought too many of them, and alongside them, to think them less intelligent than myself.

The rats might be too easy. The Olroy cheese would attract them, as S’thasa had said, once I put it in the communal pot just outside the inn. “The second sign,” Ri’bassa’s voice echoed in my mind again, “is the Plague of Famine. All our livestock will fall dead in their fields. But we only have the six sheep, and we take very good care of them.” But how to kill the sheep? Would Ri’bassa leave poison out for the rats? Would any remaining poison be sufficient to kill all six sheep at once? Would such poison leave any tell tale signs? How to get the poison into each of these creatures at the same time? Do I even have to kill the sheep?

I spent the rest of the day sitting in S’thasa’s inn, drinking her strong tea, trying to think of ways to bring on the second sign without killing the sheep. As the night grew late, I rented a room from the innkeeper and retired for the night. I did not sleep, however, but sat on the bed, listening to S’thasa move around as she closed up for the night. Finally the inn fell silent as the female Khajiit went to bed.

Slipping my leather boots off, I crept out of my room into the foyer. First I set the boots down silently next to the door, then I moved to the display cases. One held three different cheeses, and the other, only one. The first case was unlocked, and when I opened it, the mingled aromas were pleasant, not stinky as S’thasa had described.

The second case was locked. I pulled out one of my lockpicks and stroked the lock, counting the tumblers. Five! This has to be the prize. It took me several minutes, and three broken lockpicks, to raise those tricky tumblers and release the lock. Any remaining doubt that this was the rare Olroy cheese disappeared as I swung the case open. The fetid aroma smacked me in the face with the force of a zombie slap. I cringed to touch it with my bare fingers, and dug into my cuirass for a field dressing, something I had begun carrying with me since my trial at Fort Grief. Tearing off a strip of linen, I folded it on itself, and covered the cheese with it before picking it up.

I carried it out the door, my leather boots in my other hand, and dropped it into the fire. The now foul-smelling linen strip was tossed into the fire and I replaced my boots. As the cheese bubbled and melted, the odor wafted on the cool night air, pervading everywhere. I stifled a cough and began breathing through my mouth. Gripping the pot handle, I took it off the fire and set it on the cobblestones of the terrace. Then I withdrew into the night. The terrace wall provided a good place to sit and watch.

Chirrups and squeaks alerted me to the arrival of the small brown rodents. A dark shadow swarmed up the central stairs that bisected the small community, broke apart into rats that headed for the fire. They gathered around the pot, squeaking as they devoured the cheese that had drawn them. Amazed at the sheer numbers, I remained frozen in place. The odor of the cheese dissipated in the soft night breeze that sighed down from the ridge above the village.

Light flickered in the window one of the small houses near the bottom of the stairs. It spilled across the cobblestones as the door opened and closed. Ri’bassa’s black-robed form dashed up the stairs, wading into the mass of rodents. He placed several packets he carried in his arms around the upper terrace, hissing angrily at the rats whenever they brushed against him. He stepped back and watched.

Remaining where I sat unseen, I also watched as the rats, their appetites stimulated by the melting cheese, turned onto the packets and tore them open, devouring the powder within. Within minutes, silence settled over the community as the rats succumbed swiftly to their fatal meal. When the entire swarm lay dead, Ri’bassa turned from the cooking fire and returned to his home.

When his house was dark again, I rose and returned to the cooking fire. By its light, I picked out the few remaining packets that had not been devoured by the rodents. The remaining poison gathered, I turned for the sheepfold to the south.

The pale forms rested around the enclosure, barely visible in the shadows beneath the night sky. Their eyes reflected the faint moonlight as they watched me approach the manger in the center. I pulled some fodder from the nearby hay bale, placing it into the wooden trough. Then I sprinkled the powder over the top of the fragrant stems.

As I left the sheepfold, I glanced back to see the six creatures float slowly toward the manger. I latched the gate, and leaned my arms on the top bar to watch them. They picked at the hay, each woolen beast nibbling at a few stems, before they meandered away. Did they ingest enough of the poison? They didn’t seem to care much for that meal. My hopeful doubts were brutally smacked when first one, then another of the sheep collapsed in mid-stride. Before long, all six lay sprawled in grotesque imitation of the rats around the communal cooking fire.

“You’ve done well, mortal.” Sheogorath’s voice wafted on the night breeze, and I flinched away from the gate. “I’m amused, I think. Go to the center of the town. And be certain to duck!” Shame sour in my mouth, I limped up the steps from the sheepfold to the upper terrace, then started down the central stairs. At the middle terrace, I stopped and looked around at the sleeping town. A sense of foreboding grew over the settlement as the night sky above transformed into the red and black storm clouds I knew so well from the Deadlands. As I looked up, dark forms, trailing fire and agonized howls, began to fall from an incredible height. I winced involuntarily as they landed around me with sickening sounds of shattering bone and splattering tissue. Horrified, I stared at the charred bodies of dogs scattered over the cobblestones.

Lights came on in the various houses, and Khajiiti bolted out. Screams and hisses pierced the night when they saw the smoking bodies. Panicked shouts of the end of the world stabbed at my heart as they ran past me toward the communal fire. The residents ignored me, and I took opportunity to slink away, my soul heavy.

***********

Depressed, I returned to the Shrine in the predawn light. “Good times, good times,” the Daedric Prince’s voice sounded gleefully. “I hope you had as much fun as I did. Here take this. It’s a fun little toy. Now go away. Before I kill you.”

A heavy staff, about two meters long, shimmered into being and dropped to the ground in front of me. Picking it up, I could feel power thrumming in its shaft. Fighting my revulsion, I slung the thing on my back and turned away from the Shrine. Again, I nearly bumped into Ravel.

“You’ve pleased the Madgod!” he exclaimed. “You must be proud of yourself. I, for one, still would like to eat your eyes. But, good for you!” I stared at him, then stepped past him, anxious to leave the Grove of Madness behind for good. “Drunk with madness!” he called after me. “Madness for all!”

By the Nine, I thought to myself, fighting the nausea that surged in my throat. I never want to deal with another Daedric Lord again. If they’re all that crazy, or evil as Mehrunes Dagon - I shook myself back into the present and made my way carefully down the rocky slope, returning to where Paint still waited beside the Wayshrine as the sun rose over the trees on the opposite bank.

**************

We reached Bravil in the late afternoon, I decided to stop for the night, and let Paint rest up. Imperial City lay a day’s ride to the north, and Bruma yet another day. I didn’t want to push Paint too hard. Stabling him at the Bay Roan, I gave Bienne a septim for his care, gathered my gear, and headed into the city.

Again, I had dinner at the Mages Guild. Aren tried goading me again, but I ignored him, too preoccupied with bringing the Daedric artifact back to Martin, and recovering Ardaline’s Mage Staff. Carandial was not present to distract me with his crooked smile. In a way, I was relieved. His solicitous attention towards me was more than a little - unsettling.

As the other mages dispersed after dinner, Kud-Ei spoke my name. Turning to look at her, I caught her gesture to sit beside her at the head of the table.

“You’re very quiet, tonight, Julian,” she said quietly.

“I’ve got a lot on my mind, ma’am,” I answered.

“Aleron Loche?” Kud-Ei poured a cup of hot tea from the pot, pushed it towards me, then refilled her own. I didn’t answer. Can’t tell her about Martin, or this staff of Sheogorath’s I’m carrying. “From what I undersstand, you couldn’t sstop him from being killed, even if you tried.”

“That’s just it,” avoiding Kud-Ei’s gaze, I sipped at the warm tea. “I did try, and I failed. And a street thug nearly killed me.” Shaking my head, I set the cup down with a soft clink. “There was a time when I would have shrugged him off without trying.”

“What you mean, ‘shrugged him off?’” Kud-Ei asked, her voice curious.

“Put him down,” I answered. “Killed him easily.”

“And what wass different thiss time?” Kud-Ei dropped a cube of raw sugar into her tea, her spoon making soft clinking noises as she stirred it. Her eyes remained on her cup when I glanced at her.

I leaned back in the chair, keeping my left hand cupped around the warmth of my tea. “It was hard,” I spoke slowly. “Though I remember how to fight, my body couldn’t keep up.”

“Then how did you manage to closse two Oblivion Gatess?” Kud-Ei stopped her stirring and tasted her tea.

“I hid a lot,” my eyes closed against the memory, I recalled my journeys through the Deadlands. “I moved slowly, looked before I entered each new area, and used the shadows. I used my bow a lot to keep them at a distance. I couldn’t do that so easily in the Hunter’s Run.” I met the Chapter head’s gaze. “It’s different when the enemy is charging you in close quarters.”

“How long have you been addicted to drink and sskooma?” The Argonian’s voice turned soft.

I considered the question. My first impulse was to refuse to answer. But Kud-Ei honestly seemed like she was trying to help, not remind me of my shortcomings. “I started drinking too much right after my discharge,” I said finally. “The skooma started two years ago.”

“Sso the addiction iss a fairly new thing,” Kud-Ei mused, taking another sip of her tea. “When you were in the Legion, you were young, sstrong, and healthy, correct?”

“And now I’m old, broken down, and sick,” I responded dryly. Kud-Ei shrugged.

“You ssaid it, not I,” she commented. “Sso why are you sstill fighting?”

“It’s the only thing I know,” I answered. “That’s why I joined the Mages Guild. I’m hoping to learn something new, so I can leave the fighting behind.”

“But it’ss turning out harder than you expected, no?” The Argonian looked into her cup, then refilled it again. She waited while I sipped at my own tea.

“Hard to leave the fighting?” I echoed. “Yes, I suppose. It’s a tough world out there, and many people are struggling to survive. When they need a hero -” my voice trailed off when I realized what I was saying.

“You’re that hero for them,” Kud-Ei smiled faintly. I shook my head.

“I’m not a hero,” I responded, “but I can’t say no when they ask me for help, or when they need help of the sort I know how to give them.” I rose to my feet. “That’s why I keep fighting, I guess.”

“Thesse are uncertain timess, indeed,” Kud-Ei remained seated. I looked at her.

“Ma’am,” I said softly, “I need to rest. I’d like to leave early for the Imperial City in the morning. Unless you need something else -”

“No, Julian.” Kud-Ei drained her cup. ‘That will be all.” She rose to her full height and met my gaze. “Good night.”

Posted by: hazmick Aug 24 2010, 05:27 PM

living in England, I'm not that knowledgeable with OSHA but when I visited the U.S I met someone in Florida who worked for them or with them... or something.


"Though I knew many folks considered Argonians and Khajiit to be less than humans or merkind, I had fought too many of them, and alongside them, to think them less intelligent than myself."- hurrah! I loved this!

I hope Julian recovers from this quest, it would be easier if those Khajiit weren't so friendly!

Posted by: Olen Aug 24 2010, 05:43 PM

I enjoyed the conversation at the end, it did well to highlight how out of character she had to act to do a greater good. Quite dark but she does know she had too, not that I think she won't consider it again and wonder if it was the right thing. I also wonder if she'll have cause to use wabbajack before she gives it to Martin.

Now I want to know what she'll do next. There's the staff to collect but then martin really needs that artefact and to give her another task she's really not going to like... Indeed I suspect there may have been some foreshadowing in her complaint about not liking fighting at close quarters.

Posted by: treydog Aug 24 2010, 06:29 PM

Adding in the concern that Paint might be in jeopardy (previous installment) makes her decision a very "Julian" choice.

On to the new one- Julian's (and your) distaste for Sheo's idea of a joke is made quite clear. It makes sense that she only relates as much of the story and her interactions with the inhabitants of Border Watch as she must.

As to random killing of creatures, I agree completely. In Morrowind, my characters never bother the scribs or netch, because they are non-aggressive. And I think it makes sense for Julian, who has seen plenty of "necessary" violence to be disgusted by wasteful slaughter.

The scene with Kud-Ei is bittersweet, as Julian struggles with many issues- her doubts about her abilities, her decision to try a new path, and her need to confide in someone. You capture quite well the almost overwhelming number of interwoven tasks that she faces.

Posted by: SubRosa Aug 25 2010, 01:07 AM

Poor Julian. I never liked that quest either, for the same reason as Julian.

The fetid aroma smacked me in the face with the force of a zombie slap
Who cut the cheese!

“I’m not a hero,”
You took the words right out of Teresa's mouth!

The ending with Kud-Ei was imho the best part of the segment. Again, you continue to portray her very strongly. I really like your and Acadian's Kud-Eis. I get the feeling that of all the MG chapters, Bravil is the one that Julian feels most at home, in spite of it being in the same city where she completely fell off track.

And of course, even though the discussion contained nothing new to us readers, it summed up everything we have seen about Julian. What is new is that it was all coming out of Julian's mouth this time. That self-awareness shows her growth as a person, as she faces whom she has become.

Posted by: mALX Aug 25 2010, 01:46 AM

I'll bet that is a hard quest for you to enjoy, being a vet. I like it in spite of being an animal lover, lol. Great job you did on it, and gave us another insight into what makes Julian tick !!!!!!!

Posted by: Acadian Aug 25 2010, 02:28 AM

Superbly done, Rider.

Initially that quest seems like perhaps a harmless prank, but it turns quite cruel in my opinion and I fully agree with Julian's revulsion. Such a lovely little Khajiit settlement that so warmly welcomes strangers. You also made it clear and reasonable that she felt it must be done and why. As I said, perfectly managed - Julian shined here (even though she was nauseated).

Ah, that is our dear Kud-Ei. Understated wisdom from behind an everpresent teacup. I love that we see her so similarly.

I totally agree with the brilliance of the lines quoted by those above me.

Although Julian may not consider herself a hero, I know a couple wispy wood elves that would heartily disagree.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Aug 26 2010, 02:48 PM

@hazmick: Yes, both Julian and I would feel less guilty if those kitties weren’t so nice to us! Especially after that rarebit!

@Olen: I wanted to illustrate the quandary of the ends justifying the means - something soldiers and veterinarians wrestle with quite often.

@treydog: The aggressiveness of so many of the beasts in Oblivion is one of my pet peeves. I’d rather leave the lions, wolves and bears alone, thank you very much. But they won’t leave me (or my horse) alone!

@Sage Rosa: Wow. I guess we don’t call you Sage for nothing. Kud-Ei is one of my favorite of the Mages Guild heads, along with Carahil in Anvil. I think we can all figure who is Julian’s least favorite! Yes, I had noticed that Julian feels comfortable enough with this Argonian lady to confide her insecurities in Kud-Ei. It won’t be the last time . . .

@mALX: You hit the nail on the head about Sheo’s quest. I only do it for the Wabbajack - it’s the one artifact I have the least use for (and there are quite a few useless ones!).

@Acadian: Understated wisdom from behind an everpresent teacup? I’ll have to remember that!

We get to see more of the Legion in Julian as she finishes one more loose end from Bravil.

*****************
Chapter 14.5 Ardaline’s Staff

Replete with Merowald’s generous fare, I took my leave of the old Breton and Paint to head into the City. The Watch directed me to Soris Arenim’s house, within the Talos Plaza District, one of a block of rowhouses facing the exterior City wall.

Knocking on the portal, I heard a tenor voice call “Enter.” The door creaked on opening, and I paused just within to let my eyes adjust to the interior. It was well lit with tall windows at the rear admitting unfiltered sunlight into the main floor. A Dunmer man, thinning hair swept back from a high widow’s peak, turned from his reading desk. “Good day, ma’am,” he said. “How may I help you?”

“Varon Vamori told me to look Soris Arenim up the next time I was in the City,” I answered. “It seems Vamori considers Arenim a good friend.”

The Dunmer’s face lit up in a smile. “Ah, yes, Varon, Varon,” he nodded. “I am Soris Arenim. And you are -?”

“I am Julian of Anvil,” I answered. “Vamori suggested I see you about a -” I hesitated for effect, “sensitive matter.” I regarded him thoughtfully.

“Erissare!” Arenim called. A beautiful Altmer woman appeared from the rear of the house. “Please, some wine for our guest!”

“No, no wine, please,” I looked at Erissare. “I can’t have any drink. If you have water, ma’am, that would be fine, please.”

“Of course,” Erissare disappeared momentarily. Arenim waved me to an easy chair next to a brazier. Unbuckling my sheathed katana and leaning it against the arm, I took the indicated seat. He sat down on the nearby couch as the Altmer returned, bearing a flagon and three silver goblets. She poured water in all three, then seated herself next to Arenim.

“This is my lovely wife, Erissare,” Arenim introduced her. “My dear, this is Julian of Anvil. She is a friend of Varon’s.” After a sip from his goblet, he turned expectantly back to me. “What is this sensitive matter you speak of?”

“This requires the utmost discretion,” I shifted my gaze to Erissare. Arenim patted her knee affectionately.

“My wife is discreet, very much so,” he answered. “She knows all my secrets, and shares them with none.”

As I kept my face as neutral as I could, I regarded the couple for several moments. “It has come to my attention,” I spoke slowly, “that Vamori has committed a grave insult to a member of the Mages Guild.”

Erissare shifted beside Arenim, her eyes not moving from mine. I took a sip of the water, and looked at the Dunmer. His jaw was clenching tightly, his lips a thin line.

“Is that so?” he asked, his voice as taut as his jawline. “What did he do?”

“He stole a Mage’s Staff,” I answered bluntly. The Altmer woman inhaled sharply, shooting a glance at her husband. He did not return her gaze, but held mine locked in an unspoken challenge. “Vamori,” I continued, keeping my voice neutral, “faces charges of theft, harassment, and unlawful profiteering. The City Watch is looking for the man Vamori sold the Staff to.”

“Ah,” Arenim leaned back, his casual air unconvincing to my eye. Too many years of recruits squirming under my gaze made it hard to miss the subtle signs of unease in Arenim’s posture. “Do they know who this man is?”

“Vamori told me.” Arenim scowled at the implied meaning in my answer. If he told me, what did he tell the Watch? “It’s just a matter of time before the Bravil Watch submits a request to the Imperial City Watch,” I continued. Arenim hid his growing unease behind another sip of the water, but I could see Erissare’s hand clenching on his, still resting on her knee.

“And how are you involved?” He’s smooth, this one, I thought. He’s not admitting he has the Staff, yet.

“Vamori wants to make amends,” I answered. “He wants to get the Staff back.”

Arenim took another sip, his red eyes reflective. “As much as I like you, friend, and as much as I like Vamori,” he said slowly, “I’m not willing to part with the Mage’s Staff. It’s my Staff now.” He shrugged. “Nothing personal, you understand.”

“Of course,” I nodded calmly. “And you understand that anyone caught holding a stolen item can be charged with possession, profiting from illegal activities such as theft and interfering with the duties of a mage.” I recalled an incident from my Legion days. “Believe me, the Legion Battlemages frown on these sort of antics. If one were to pay you a visit -” I let my voice trail off. I had heard the chill creeping into my voice, the same chill that had scared Vamori so badly.

Arenim set his goblet down on the low table in front of him, his gaze hardening on me. “Are you threatening me, Julian of Anvil?” his voice slipped through the silence.

“On the contrary,” my own tone remained chilly. “I have personally seen what the Legion Battlemages are capable of when they set their mind to torture.” After a sip of the water, I met Erissare’s frightened gaze. “Exquisite, really,” I continued. “Their methods are very elegant, and very, very cruel.”

Erissare rose suddenly, spilling a few drops from her goblet. “Excuse me, please,” she whispered breathlessly, and bolted from the front room. Arenim turned his head as her footsteps faded away, then he looked back at me, his expression grim.

“Pardon me, ma’am,” he inclined his head at me. “I need a couple of minutes.”

“Of course,” I replied, leaning back in the chair and taking another sip from the silver goblet in my hand. Arenim rose and headed after his wife. A few moments later, I could just barely hear their voices, hers frantic, his tensely calm.

I was eyeing the flagon on the table, my goblet empty, when Arenim returned. His ashen complexion was paler than before, his lips only a thin gash in his tense face. He sat down and gulped the last of the water in his goblet with a grimace as if it was firewater.

“Look,” he said, his voice matching his expression, “I can’t just give it to you. Give me at least a portion of what I paid for it.”

“I have two hundred septims with me,” I placed Vamori’s purse on the table beside the flagon. “That and a clean resolution to this matter that will not involve jail time, fines, or besmirched reputations.”

Arenim reached for the purse. In a smooth motion, I picked up the sheathed katana by the blade and rapped the table with the brass ball in the sword’s hilt, narrowly missing his fingers. “Let me see the Staff, first,” I said quietly. The Dunmer glared at me.

“Wait here, then,” he said tersely, with another glance at the sack on the table.

“I won’t touch it,” I promised him. “You can count it before I leave.” Arenim threw me another glare, then headed to the rear of the house. I waited, my weapon across my lap, my left hand on its sheath, my right resting on the hilt.

Erissare reappeared, her eyes puffy and her face pale. She hesitated when she spotted the katana resting across my knees. “S- Soris d- doesn’t w- want any trouble, ma’am,” she stammered.

“I’m sure he doesn’t, ma’am” I responded smoothly. “But I didn’t survive this long without being ready for the unexpected.” I smiled to warm my tone.

Erissare moved slowly to pick up the flagon. She carried it with her to the rear of the house. Her unspoken message was clear: Finish your business and get out. I wanted nothing more than to do just that.

Arenim returned, passing his wife in the doorway. He carried a two-meter long staff, made of knurled wood with a forked end. I could see the whisper of power along its edges. As I rose to my feet, I clipped my katana at my belt. The Dunmer handed me the Staff with a scowl.

A close examination indicated it matched the description Kud-Ei had given me: “Worn smooth on the handle, it hums with Illusion power. The head is engraved with morning glory vines.” Meeting Arenim’s gaze, I nodded at the table, where Vamori’s pouch still sat. “Thank you, serjo,” I said to him.

The butt of the Staff grounded on the stone floor, I cradled the shaft in my crossed arms and waited. Arenim tossed me an inscrutable look, then moved to the couch and sat down. He reached for the purse, more warily this time, but when I did not move, he opened the flap and emptied its contents onto the table.

“Ah,” he said, his tone more satisfied. “I see you are as good as your word,” he looked up at me, “at least as far as the gold is concerned. Now for the rest -”

“I leave in the morning for Bravil, to wrap things up with Vamori,” I said, picking the Staff up to clear the floor and heading for the front door. My hand on the door handle, I turned to look at Arenim. “On his behalf, thank you for your cooperation.”

Posted by: treydog Aug 26 2010, 03:09 PM

Now that is Julian at her scary, ex-Legion best! You write confrontational conversations as well as you do the more friendly sort. Something I liked- and that the game rather ignores- is the fact that the staff is "stolen property." The player character can be given a fair amount of grief for "holding;" why should the same not be true for NPCs?
Inspired.

Then there is the wonderful by-play between husband and wife in their home- which I think may affect our single, somewhat homeless Redguard more deeply than she yet knows.

Posted by: Acadian Aug 26 2010, 03:11 PM

Thanks for breakfast in Weye, and glad to see Paint is not staying at the stables with that Snak grabbing orc.

Buffy was taking copious notes as we read how a true professional calmly goes about completing a quest. Julian's wisdom, born of a lifetime of hard seasoning really shines here. Honorable and direct - but brilliantly negotiated. No B&E in the middle of the night for our Redguard.

Not only was this well done, it was so very Julian.

Now, unless I'm mistaken, it seems Julian's 'Bravil dance card' is almost full. I'm saddened somewhat to expect that her duties will soon take her from our City of Mara. Ah, duty calls though and there is an Empire for our hero to save.

Posted by: D.Foxy Aug 26 2010, 03:23 PM

Hautee....


Ever consider a career as a bill collector???

Posted by: hazmick Aug 26 2010, 04:06 PM

I wouldn't want to mess with Julian, powerful stuff. You've one a good job with my least favourite recommendation.

Posted by: SubRosa Aug 26 2010, 04:33 PM

I thought you all call me sage because I remind you of the herb used for smudging!

An excellent segment! You kept the tension ratcheted up during the entire thing, which was wonderful. Especially good was Julian's caution at the end. For a few moments I was wondering if Soris was going to come back downstairs and shoot Julian with the staff!

Posted by: Olen Aug 26 2010, 04:56 PM

I had wondered how you would resolve that quest. Well done, not so far from the game but still in character. Somehow I can't see Julian buying back stolen goods with her own money but sneaking around at night isn't really her style. Dialogue like that, however, is very much so.

The real crowning jewel for me though was the interaction between the Arenims, which Julian played well on. You really brought them to life as for all that Soris's wife 'knows all his secrets' she didn't really and lent on him. Nice three way interaction to bring this to a satisfying end.

I agree with SubRosa that I thought Soris might come up staff blazing only to find that it's rather useless charming was grossly insuficient.

Now how to speand an afternoon/evening in the IC...

Posted by: mALX Aug 26 2010, 06:25 PM

SPEW !!!


@ Hauty - Julian would make a good mother, not just for her rapport with children - but for her ability to read when they are fudging on the truth !!! Great chapter !!!!

Posted by: haute ecole rider Aug 28 2010, 05:27 PM

@trey: I see you thought the relationship between husband and wife felt real. I’m glad.

@Acadian: I knew you were due for a meal! Julian never leaves Paint in Snak’s den - why when Merowald is so cheerful and happy to see her and Paint? Yes, you are right - Julian’s time in Bravil is coming to an end. But like MacArthur, she shall return (only without the ego).

@Foxy: there are days when I feel like half of what I’m doing is collecting money! Please, no thanks!

@hazmick: Thanks for the thumbs up. That’s a piece where we see the old drill sergeant in action. I love bringing that part of her past up.

@SubRosa: It’s just a matter of knowing when the other guy is ticked off at you - better be ready than dead.

@Olen: TBH, I laughed at the Sage’s comment because that Charm spell was only going to keep Julian from attacking Soris, which she wasn’t going to do anyway. As for your question about how to spend an afternoon/evening . . .

@mALX: Isn’t that what all good sergeants do - be good mothers (while the officers are fathers)? I’m not sure if that’s really a workable solution, but sergeants do need to know when their grunts are squirming on the inside!

Julian is sidetracked yet again by her growing fame as Hero of Kvatch (and Bravil).

*****************
Chapter 14.6 Order of the Virtuous Blood

As I entered the Temple District on my way to my home, a Dunmer woman shyly accosted me.

“Pardon me, I’m sorry to trouble you,” she spoke timidly. “But I was sent to ask for your help.”

“I’m sorry, and you are?” I responded.

“Oh, where are my manners,” she exclaimed softly. “I’m Ralsa Norvalo. My husband, Gilen, has requested that I find you and ask if you’d assist him.”

“Assist him how?” I asked.

“Normally I wouldn’t approach a total stranger like this, but Gilen seems so insistent,” Ralsa hesitated. “Please, forgive my audacity . . .” Her voice trailed off.

“It’s all right,” I assured her. “Go on, please.”

“Thank you. Gilen always tends to exaggerate, but in this case he sounded earnest, which worries me a bit . . .” She glanced around. “He said that the matter he needs help with is of the utmost importance to the citizens of the Imperial City. Please meet him at Seridur’s house, which is located here in the Temple District, just southeast of the Temple. He said all will be explained when you get there.” She looked at me uncertainly. “That’s all he told me to say.”

“All right, Ralsa,” I stifled a sigh. “I’ll be there.”

A Watchman directed me to Seridur’s house, east of the tunnel entrance. A large stone building, it faced the outer wall, fronting a narrow street that ran along the fortification. I knocked on the door. A voice called from inside for me to enter.

As I paused just inside the door, closing it behind me, I found myself in a fusty atmosphere, lit by torches, dark after the bright day outside. Heavy tapestries hung on the walls, covering the few windows at the front and rear of the building. Waiting to let my eyes adjust from the bright sunlight outside, I heard footsteps approaching me. A tall Altmer in gold-trimmed blue velvet greeted me, his eyes shadowed beneath tilted brows.

“It’s an honor to finally meet you. When I heard you were in town, I just had to send for your help. Your reputation precedes you.”

I stared at him. Reputation? “I’m not sure what you’ve heard about me -” my voice trailed away.

“You’re Julian, the Hero of Kvatch, aren’t you?” he asked. I inhaled slowly, and nodded. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Seridur,” he continued, pressing a long-fingered hand over his flat chest.

“Pleased to meet you, Seridur,” I returned politely.

“Likewise,” he bowed slightly to me. “Sorry to send Gilen’s wife to get you in that manner, but it seemed safer if we weren’t seen on the streets right now. Now, if you’ll come with me, please.”

“Lead the way,” I said.

“Splendid!” Seridur exclaimed. “Watch your step.” He turned away and walked towards the rear of the house, past the stairs rising to the second floor. At the back of the room, a Dunmer in steel plate looked up from his cold lunch. We passed him, and Seridur led me to a door beneath the stairs.

He opened it, and started down another flight of stairs that led into his cellar. I found the steps well-lit by torches, and followed him down. If anything, the air in the cellar was even more suffocating, aggravated by the smoke wafting from the open brands.

Seridur stopped in the center of a room at the end of a short passageway. I looked around as I followed him, seeing the bookcases along the walls, benches and chairs, a patterned rug on the floor, and more tapestries on the walls. Two men, an Argonian and a Dunmer, rose from their seats as Seridur faced me.

“Welcome,” he said to me. “You’re now in the sanctuary of the Order of the Virtuous Blood. Few outside our circle have ever set foot in our hallowed hall.” Hallowed hall? I thought to myself, but kept my mouth shut. “We are, for lack of a better word,” Seridur paused briefly, “defenders. We guard this city from an infestation that plagues it. We are vampire hunters.” He turned and took a couple of steps away from me, then spun on his heel and looked back at me. “I’m sure you are familiar with these despicable beings, feeding on the innocent as if they were cattle. Well, this group was formed to combat them.”

He waited as I looked around at the other two men. The Argonian’s posture revealed the age that did not show in his face, and the Dunmer had more creases, and deeper ones, in his than I did in mine, though his close-cropped hair was much, much blacker than mine. As for Seridur, he had the typical ageless look common to the Altmer. He must have read my mind, for he continued, “Alas, we are but three old men, not able to match the fighting prowess of the vampire. We lack the strength to defeat them in battle.”

“What do you hope to accomplish, then?” I asked Seridur.

“Our goal is to root out the vampires that live in our fair city,” Seridur responded. “So far, we’ve been unsuccessful at finding one, until now.” Now his shadowed eyes gleamed in the flickering light from the torches. “It’s come to the Order’s attention that Temple District resident Roland Jenseric is a vampire, and has already claimed one victim.” He scowled at me. “That’s where you come in. We want you to find this vampire and cleanse the city of his filth before he can feed or kill again.”

I regarded Seridur thoughtfully. “What makes you sure this Jenseric is a vampire?” I asked finally.

“A few nights ago, I was roaming the city as I often do, looking for any signs of a vampire. As I headed past Roland’s house I heard a cry,” Seridur’s voice took on the rhythm of a recitation. “I rushed into the back garden to find Roland struggling with a woman he’d been courting. I tried to intervene, but he was too strong. He threw his lover to the ground and turned his attention on me.” His brows rose, but his eyes remained shadowed. “Luckily, I managed to run back into the street and escape his grasp. I hid for a while, then returned to the garden. Roland was gone and the woman was dead.” He paused, his eyes steady on mine. “She had two puncture wounds on the nape of her neck. That’s when I realized he was a vampire.” Now he scowled. “The Order needs you to track him down and destroy him.”

Something about Seridur, and his story, bothered me. His monotone delivery was not what I expected, but that was not all. Still, I couldn’t pin it down, so I decided to play along, for now. “Where do I find this Roland Jenseric?” I asked.

“I would start by searching his home,” Seridur answered, his expression brightening. “He hasn’t been there for days, so it should be safe. Return to us here if you have questions. We meet at night.”

“And where is his house?” I held Seridur’s gaze, unable to see his eyes in the flickering shadows cast by the torches.

“His home is located in the Temple District. Right across the garden from my home in fact,” Seridur’s lips curved in a sardonic smile. “Ironic, isn’t it?”

“Yes, ironic,” I answered. “Anything I should know about vampire hunting?”

Now Seridur’s slanted brows lowered over his shadowed eye sockets. “Vampires are nasty creatures,” his tone turned cold, “drinking the blood of others to conceal their true natures. Such trickery makes them difficult to find.” He smiled. “You should ask Gilen Norvalo,” he indicated the dark-haired Dunmer, “or Deep-Throat,” the Argonian, “about these creatures as well. They’ve learned much.”

I looked at Norvalo, his Dunmer-red eyes returning my gaze as steadily as a fellow soldier. “My knowledge is at your disposal, Julian,” he said, his voice velvet-smooth and as dark as his skin.

“What do you know of Jenseric?” I asked him. His face darkened even further.

“Roland was always a quiet man,” his tone held compressed anger. “It was only recently he’d met that young lady. Poor girl. We must avenge her death.”

“Aye, we should,” I agreed. Norvalo seems honest enough, I thought to myself. “Any vampire-hunting advice for me, ser?”

His brows lifted, and Norvalo’s eyes gleamed like rubies in the flickering torchlight. “It’s said that the bite of a vampire has the chance of infecting the victim. If this occurs, they’ll become a vampire in a few days. Be cautious.”

“Thanks, I will be careful,” I responded. Deep-Throat, the Argonian, greeted me. I turned to face him.

“How can I be of sservisse?” Deep-Throat’s voice was not as velvety smooth as Norvalo’s, or as melodious as Jeelius’s, but his tone was welcoming enough.

“Did you know Roland Jenseric?” I asked him.

“He wass very much the loner,” Deep-Throat responded. “He never married, and wass rarely sseen outsside hiss housse. I’m ssurprissed hiss ssecret wassn’t disscovered ssooner.”

“Have you ever hunted vampires before, sir?” I was beginning to get the same feel from this Argonian that I had from Norvalo - just as honest and earnest.

“The vampire cannot exisst in the daylight for long,” Deep-Throat responded. “As the ssun’ss rayss sstrike hiss flessh, it will burn as if on fire.”

“So daylight would be my best friend,” I mused aloud, “if I can get one of these creatures outside.”

“Aye, if you can,” Deep-Throat responded. “Be ever vigilant,” he warned me. “Vampiress are creaturess of deceit.” He turned and walked towards the stairs leading upwards. I looked around again, reflecting on the conversation. Something about Seridur still bothered me.

We meet at night. His words echoed in my memory. It was now after noon, but they were still here. I looked up to see Norvalo and Seridur follow Deep-Throat to the stairs. I fell into step behind them, curious to see what they would do.

Upstairs, they passed the Dunmer guard with murmured greetings, and while Seridur headed upstairs to the second floor - where his private quarters are, I presumed - Norvalo and Deep-Throat headed out the front door. After a moment, I assumed that I had been dismissed, and headed out myself.

Posted by: mALX Aug 28 2010, 06:47 PM

Woo Hoo !!!!! Deep Throat, huh? That will draw Foxy's comments !!! I can't wait to see Julian do this quest !!!! Her brain is already working things out, noticing things I never did when playing - AWESOME !!!!!

Posted by: hazmick Aug 28 2010, 06:54 PM

I was just playing through this mission this morning, good work!

Good ole' Julian, she knows somethings up. hopefully she will kill the right guy.

Posted by: treydog Aug 28 2010, 07:11 PM

Little to add to what has already been noted. Just that your conversations- and Julian's observations- are as good as ever. There is an appropriately creepy feel to this part. I will be interested to watch Julian's investigation proceed.

Posted by: Olen Aug 28 2010, 07:27 PM

I like this quest, and I suspect Julian will too, she's certainly an observant one. I failed to notice the drapes, though his wierd manner was enough to make me suspect. I think I can see why you put this quest here too, after the clear relationship between the Arenims and then Jenseric and his lady... well I think it might get her thinking.

One question: you seem to have the dialogue almost word for word. How? (I know you can use the cs but I thought you played it on a console).

Posted by: SubRosa Aug 28 2010, 10:13 PM

As Julian admitted herself, she just cannot say no to anyone.

I liked your description of the interior of Seridur's house. Stuffy air from all the windows being closed up, dark from tapestries hanging over them. The only light from guttering torches. One might say it is laden with clues about the nature of the owner...

Deep-Throat? Why the change from Grey-Throat? Is he a porn star? Or did he work on Nixon's Ocato's re-election?

Posted by: haute ecole rider Aug 29 2010, 12:00 AM

Now there's a tempting thought!

No, honest mistake on my part - Deep Throat was a spy in Tom Clancy's novels (as well as a popular porn star from the '70's known for her ability to - ahem, never mind). I've gone back and fixed it so the Argonian is Grey Throat, as in the game. Thanks!

Posted by: mALX Aug 29 2010, 12:06 AM

Actually...not correct. It was the name of the movie. The porn star's name was Linda Lovelace - it wasn't so much her skill, but an anomaly (per the movie script) of something that starts with a 'C' in her throat instead of its usual place...Just saving Foxy the trouble of correcting you with #7 fonts, lol.

I actually met her in person at the racetrack in Miami, FL - she had 'B' stuck up her 'A' - probably why the 'C' moved to her throat.

Posted by: Acadian Aug 29 2010, 02:15 AM

Julian has really good spider senses and and powers of observation. I noticed that the Dunmer and Argonian popped outdoors into the afternoon with apparently no ill effects. Seems Julian noticed too.

Nice descriptions and atmosphere building throughout.

Julian - vampire hunter. This should be great fun!

Posted by: D.Foxy Aug 29 2010, 03:06 AM

Deep throat...

I wonder what that is???

I am SOOOO innocent....and stooopid....could someone give an explanation, preferably with pictures???

And I still dont understand how someone could have their CALF stuck up their throat.

Is that an extreme case of foot-in-mouth disease???

Posted by: mALX Aug 29 2010, 03:09 AM

* Lightning struck Foxy after typing this message *

Posted by: haute ecole rider Aug 30 2010, 04:37 PM

@mALX: There were things I didn’t notice when I played this quest through the first time. There’s no question that Julian is sharper than I am! Your comments about Deep Throat, LL, etc cracked me up! It's obvious you've watched more porn than I have!

@hazmick: We’ll see if she believes the right guy . . .

@trey: I think Seridur is as creepy as Umbacano, and just as arrogant.

@Olen: The drapery are not present in the ‘nilla Oblivion, but I added that in to start Julian’s danger sense tingling. As for getting the dialogue word for word, well - let’s just say that I’m a professional student and a pro at taking notes! I know, that was a redundant statement.

@SubRosa: Well, there has to come a time when Julian says no! I just haven’t figured out when just yet. We’ll see!

@Acadian: Julian doesn’t quite see herself as a vampire hunter. She’ll meet Count Skingrad at some point in the future, notice certain things about him, and shrug her shoulders. But she seems unable to let people who maliciously harm innocent folks get off without handing them some kind of serious hurt. We saw that with gro-Dragol, and we will see it with others as well.

@D.Foxy: Thou dost protest too much!

Julian fights the temptation to get sidetracked again, but is unable to resist investigating the latest plea for help.

****************
Chapter 14.7 Investigating Roland Jenseric

I headed behind Seridur’s house to look at the garden he spoke of. Tall walls of several houses backed onto it, making it more of an overgrown alley than a real garden. I couldn’t see any sign of a murder. Limping through the riot of vegetation, I encountered one of the Watchmen making his rounds.

“Excuse me, sir,” I spoke when he met my gaze in passing. He paused and looked at me up and down.

“What can I do for you, Hero of Kvatch?” he responded, his grey eyes glinting in the bright sunlight. I shook my head at his greeting.

“Please, call me Julian, sir,” I said, putting a slight pleading note in my voice. I was getting pretty tired of this hero stuff. “I’m no hero, just an old, broken-down soldier looking for a new reason to live.”

Beneath his steel helm, the Watchman’s teeth gleamed in a grin. “I hear you, Julian,” he answered, his voice warming. “Please, how may I help you?”

“Do you know anything about a young woman murdered here,” I waved behind me, “in this garden?”

He frowned. “Aye, happened last week,” he said. His eyes flickered. “An Altmer named Seridur claimed he saw a fellow resident - ah - Roland Jenseric, attack the young lady. Killed her.”

“Any wounds on her body?” I asked.

His lips tightened. “I’m not at liberty to say,” he said grimly. That’s answer enough for me. I nodded in understanding.

“Have you seen this Jenseric since then?”

The Watchman shook his head. “No, no one’s seen him. The Watch Captain wants him for questioning.”

“It’s terrible, isn’t it?” I asked him. “Crime seems to be everywhere, in spite of our best efforts to contain it. And I just bought a house myself.”

“Really?” the Watchman asked. “Where?”

“Down in the Waterfront,” I answered. “I didn’t know there was a pirate ship, and pickpockets living there, but it was cheap!”

He smiled crookedly at me. “That’s why it’s cheap,” he answered. “Here in the Temple District you can find some of the more expensive houses.” His eyes roamed over the surrounding buildings before coming back to rest on mine. “Of course, the ones in Talos Plaza are even more so.”

“Oh, I doubt I’d ever live there,” I commented. “Thank you for your help, sir, if I may have your name?”

“Claudio Forenze,” the grey eyes crinkled at me. “And you’re welcome, Julian.” He nodded at me before walking away, continuing his rounds. I walked up to the main avenue running through the District, and turned back to follow along the fronts of the houses there. A Khajiit stepped out of one of the houses as I drew near, and turned to greet me.

“Hello, Julian,” he purred. “I’m J’mhad. I’ve hearrd so much about you frrom Jeelius.”

“Ah,” I responded. “You are a friend of his, then?”

He nodded humbly. “Jeelius is a kind soul,” his voice rumbled softly. “We werre so afrraid for him when he disappearred. How grreat was ourr rrejoicing when he rreturrned!”

I smiled. “I’m glad to have him return safely to you.” I looked up and down the avenue. “I’m looking for Roland Jenseric’s house, do you know where it is?”

“Ah, rright next doorr to mine!” J’mhad indicated the house next door, nearest the Temple. He went to the door and knocked on it before I could stop him. “But he’s not home, it seems,” he said sadly.

“How well do you know him?” I asked J’mhad.

“Not well,” he answered. “J’mhad sees him seldom. He’s a quiet one, Jenserric, but polite enough the few times J’mhad has met him.”

“Caused you no trouble?” I reached to stop J’mhad from trying the door handle. To my relief, it turned out to be locked. I wasn’t sure I was ready to venture into that house just yet.

“Nay, not at all,” J’mhad answered. “J’mhad is sorrry he is not home forr yourr sake,” he turned to me. “J’mhad will watch forr him, tell him you’rre looking forr him, no?”

“No, no,” I hastily spoke, shaking my head. “No, if you see him, I’d rather you told me.”

“Ah, yes,” J’mhad nodded furiously. “J’mhad will do so!”

“Thanks, J’mhad,” I stifled a sigh of relief. “Now I must go home. I’ll see you around, J’mhad.”

“Good day, Julian!” J’mhad waved at me and strode off for the Temple. I limped behind him, more slowly, my thoughts running one over the other.

**********************
Several hours later, I returned to the Temple District. I had spent the afternoon in my humble house studying the alchemy tomes I had collected. Now, in the dark hour between sunset and moonrise, I found myself standing across the street from Roland Jenseric’s home again, studying the building thoughtfully. Though I had put the meeting with Seridur out of my mind earlier, the sense that something was wrong still bothered me.

The sun had set while I was in the Waterfront, and the glow of the rising double moons brightened the eastern sky. Studying the dark windows of Jenseric’s house, I realized they were uncovered. A memory of tapestried embrasures in a soot-filled house surfaced in my mind as I regarded the east facade.

Booted footsteps drew my attention from the house across the avenue. “Good evening, ma’am,” a familiar voice greeted me. I looked down to see the Legion Watchman standing a meter or so away.

“Forenze?” I dug up his name from memory, matched it to his grey eyes. He smiled, apparently pleased that I had remembered him.

“Aye,” he admitted, turning his helmed head to look at the houses across the way. “Still interested in that murder, ma’am?”

“Hmm,” I responded noncommittally. “I’ve been asked to look for this Roland Jenseric. Has anyone seen any sign of him yet?”

“Nay,” Forenze shook his head. “He’s not been back since then.” He turned and looked at me, his eyes turning silver in the moonlight now peeking over the rooftops behind me. “Who asked you to look for him?”

“The Altmer named Seridur,” I answered. “He tells me he saw Jenseric kill the lady.” I caught the thinning of Forenze’s lips beneath his steel helm. “Problem is,” I continued, “Seridur doesn’t sit right with me. I wish I could put my finger on it -”

“Anything to do with him being a snooty Altmer?” Forenze asked neutrally. It was my turn to shake my head.

“I’ve met plenty of Altmer that I wouldn’t call snooty,” I answered. “Proud, maybe, but not necessarily snooty. No, that’s not it.” I shrugged. “It’s more an individual thing, not a racial thing.” I looked up at Jenseric’s house again. “I find it hard to accept Seridur’s claim that Jenseric is a vampire.”

Forenze’s sudden stillness drew my attention back to him. He faced me now, his posture tense, his face unreadable in the shadows of his helmet. The steel breastplate lifted slowly as he inhaled deeply. “I never saw you lingering outside Jenseric’s house,” he said cryptically. “Ma’am.” He turned and walked away, down the street, without another word.

Huh? Does Forenze not believe Jenseric is a vampire? I watched Forenze’s departing back dwindle down the curving avenue, and realized that he was the only Watchman patrolling this part of the District. Ah, time to pick the lock. He’s not going to report me, because he wants me to find the truth as badly as I do.

After I checked for people on the empty avenue in both directions, I moved across the pavement to the door. With a final glance around, I drew out a couple of lockpicks and tickled the lock into submission. Entering the house, I closed the door softly behind me before assessing my surroundings. The ground floor was empty of life. Moonlight, by now peeking over the high city walls, cascaded in through the uncovered windows at the front of the open main floor, casting enough light for my night vision to see by.

I moved to the stairs and ascended them softly, placing each foot carefully on the next stone step before putting my weight down. Upstairs, the bedroom was as well lit by moonlight as the main floor. The house was cool, quiet. The bed had not been slept in, I noticed. I also saw the open drawers tucked between the tall windows. A quick search revealed no clues, only that clothes had been removed.

He left in a hurry. Why? Back on the main floor, I found a book on the table. A folded parchment fluttered to the floor when I picked up the book. After I replaced the volume back on the table, I plucked the parchment off the floor and moved to one of the windows, where the moonlight was strongest. I puzzled out the feminine handwriting:

My dearest Roland,

I cannot wait for you to return from Bravil. My heart swells with joy as I know we will once again soon be together. I yearn for you every night that I look beside me in my bed, and you are not there. How I wish I could have taken the journey with you, but I understand that these are dangerous times, and I would only slow you down. When you return, perhaps we should get away from the chaos of the Imperial City. Let's go back to that cabin in the woods. The one where you said we would always be safe from the world. The one where you took me in your arms and sang songs of moonlight and happiness. The one where you said "I love you."

Hurry, my love,

Relfina

Thoughtfully I returned the parchment to its resting place on top of the book. He’s at his cabin, I bet. Where is it?

A more thorough search of the home, including the basement, revealed little further information. However, in a desk on the main floor, I found a deed to property described as being three kilometers north of the Blue Road, in the forest that blanketed the foothills of the Jeralls.

That overgrown gate on the north side of the road, I mused to myself, dredging up the memory of my ride to Cheydinhal, back when I was on the trail of the Mythic Dawn. I wonder if that leads to Jenseric’s cabin? Making my decision, I put everything back the way I had found it, then headed to the door. I would check that path, once I delivered Sheogorath’s Staff to Martin.

Posted by: mALX Aug 30 2010, 04:55 PM

Oooh, you have really made this quest personalized!!! I love what you are doing with it! This is one quest I always do (to build up my cash, lol.) - I just found out the oddest thing about it on the WIKI - if you do this quest as a vampire NO ONE REALIZES IT !!!! Not Seridur, nor the other vampire hunters, lol. I thought that was hilarious!


PS: I categorically deny ever watching porn! Er...can you define...er...never mind. Lol, truthfully, I met her because she was "dating" my married boss and would come see him at the office. His wife found out and all H broke out. They got divorced, my boss became some kind of cult hero to the guys at work though.

Posted by: treydog Aug 30 2010, 04:59 PM

You capture the oppressive atmosphere of Seridur’s “garden” quite effectively in just a few words. The conversation with Claudio really “sang” to me- I got the sense he was testing Julian just a bit with the “Hero of Kvatch” title. When she responded in her typical, level-headed way- he decided she was a “member of the club.” Old soldiers who have “seen the elephant” tend to know how to recognize one another- and how to spot fakers, too.

And the meeting with J’mhad is well-done, too- showing that choices have consequences. In this case, a good result because Julian fought so hard to keep Jeelius alive. Again, this has the ring of authenticity- the underclass (Khajiit and Argonians in this case) have a superb communication network because they have to. Imagine how easy it would be for someone to start a rumor that the “beast-folk” were behind Uriel’s death- and imagine what would happen if that rumor took root.

Good observation by Julian that Roland (the supposed vampire) has uncurtained, east-facing windows. Now she just has to put it together.

This installment has a wonderful sense of slowly-building tension, as Julian’s spider-sense keeps telling her things are not as they appear. And she is wise enough to listen, though she does not yet know what is wrong with this picture.

“Has anyone…” I believe.



A preference, perhaps, but I see “everything” as singular, versus “things” being plural. “I put everything back the way I had found it…”

Posted by: SubRosa Aug 30 2010, 05:02 PM

Poor Julian, found out as the Hero of Kvatch once more. Julian's first conversation with Claudio went a long way to setting up her second encounter with him at night. His reaction felt very natural. I can easily see why he would be happy for someone he could trust (like someone with a reputation of heroism in Colovia) to dig up more, even if it was technically illegal.

Likewise, using J’mhad as a friend of Jeelius was an excellent bit of plotting. Once more we see how Julian's past actions have given her friends she never knew she had, smoothing her way in the present.

Finally we see Julian's memory of the path off the Blue Road jogged. I noted that when it appeared the first time, and have been wondering if you were going to do anything with it or not. Nice advance set up for this chapter.

Posted by: mALX Aug 30 2010, 05:03 PM

BOLD: - ARGH !!!!!

Posted by: treydog Aug 30 2010, 05:23 PM

Should specify- not my opinion, but more an amalgam of SubRosa's TF world and playing so much Morrowind lately. (Slavery, anyone?) I do not know if the class-system is quite as stark in haute's fictional Tamriel.

Posted by: hazmick Aug 30 2010, 07:02 PM

good chapter, once again. It's good to see Julian piecing everything together, it's CSI:Tamriel.

Posted by: Acadian Aug 30 2010, 08:03 PM

I'm getting quite swept up in this! It's delightful! I love the methodical manner in which Julian is investigating. Ah, the old soldier professionally conducting her JAG investigation. Lots to love.

Beautifully done, with the ring of truth. I loved that you gave the watchman a name. And I was gratified to see the small investment in a relationship pay off for Julian as the guard walked away so Julian could do her business.


I see the rules of real estate pertain, even in Cyrodiil - location, loction, location.


Julian! You go, girl!


This wonderful passge quite tickled my fancy.


Just a gem of a great description - fluttered to the floor.

Posted by: Olen Aug 30 2010, 10:01 PM

I think I've said it before but I'll say it again anyway - the way you work previous events into the story is brilliant and gives it a sense of continuity as well as cause and effect. It's good to see rescueing Jeelius again helped Julian and again made itself known.

Claudio was a good character too, after just one section what we know of him is rounded and suggests there's a lot more unrevealed (quite a feat, especially if the rest of him is an illusion). I suspect we may see him again after this quest. Certainly using his first conversation to build a trust between them made his decision to look the other way very natural.

All this question about drapes (and cleverly done there) has me thinking - would sunlight burn a vampire through a window, certainly it's impossible to get sunburnt though one (unless it's made of fused silica which seems rather unlikely in TES). Still I'm sure 'it's magic' more than suffices here.

Posted by: Remko Aug 31 2010, 03:43 PM

I always enjoyed killing Seridur...... slowly....... really slowly...

Posted by: haute ecole rider Sep 1 2010, 02:13 PM

@mALX: I knew that about the Brotherhood. Vampire hunters, huh?

@Trey: I’m glad you liked Claudio - he is my favorite of the Watchmen. He’s the one that should be Captain of the Watch, not that fop H. Lex! Thanks for your nits. I’ve fixed them.

@SubRosa: Eventually Julian will accept ‘Hero of Kvatch’ or be called worse. Yikes! Thanks for the compliments on plotting - IMHO it’s one of my weakest points.

@hazmick: CSI:Tamriel? CSI?? I’ve always regarded Julian as more like Brenda Leigh Johnson in The Closer. *Adopts Southern accent* Thank you.

@Acadian: JAG, too? B- But he’s Navy!! All right, technically, my family’s had guys in the Navy (Dad was a Seabee, one uncle was Navy swabbie, another uncle was Marine), but hey, Julian’s Legion, for Akatosh’s sake! I’m glad you enjoyed the brief interaction between Julian and Forenze.

@Olen: well, in all the vampire movies I’ve seen, the windows have all been covered, so I suppose vampires are as sensitive to visible-to-infrared wavelengths as to UV. After all, fire is just as destructive for a vampire as sunlight. Windows block only UV, which causes sunburn in normal humans.

@Remko: Seridur does deserve a slow death, doesn’t he?

Julian returns the Staff, and has an unexpected conversation. Don’t worry, the Brotherhood quest will be completed. Eventually.

*******************
Chapter 14.7 Return to Bravil

The next day, back in Bravil, I found Vamori pacing restlessly outside the Mages Guild, muttering to himself and pulling on his lower lip. He looked up as I approached, his gaze hesitating on the Mage’s Staff at my back. His face lit up as I stopped in front of him.

“You got it back!” he exclaimed.

“Of course I got it back,” I replied. “Have you apologized to Ardaline yet?” The young Dunmer’s face fell.

“No,” his voice was small again. “I can’t think of the words to say.”

“Just say, ‘I’m sorry, Ardaline, for taking your Staff.’” I answered. “There are times when simple is best.” I gripped his shoulder with my sword hand, turning him towards the front door of the Mages Guild. “Let’s go together.”

Vamori did not resist my urging, but slumped up the steps to the door. We entered the Guild together, then I nudged him forward toward Ardaline’s alchemy room at the back of the building. “Some things you have to do on your own,” I said, spotting Kud-Ei seated at the reading nook. She looked up as I unslung the Staff. I lifted it up for her to see, catching the smile on her face. With another nudge, I handed Vamori the Staff. “After causing all this trouble, you may as well give the Staff back yourself.”

The polished wood clutched in pale grey knuckles, Vamori walked slowly towards the Alchemy room, its double doors wide open. Beyond, I could see Ardaline, her back to the doorway, hard at work at a calcinator. As I watched, Kud-Ei rose and glided over to me.

“I ssee you recovered the Sstaff,” she whispered, turning to watch Vamori’s progress with me. “I will not assk how you obtained it.”

I fished out the small pouch she had given me. “Here, I never had to use this,” I dropped it into her palm. Kud-Ei shot me a sharp glance, but said nothing. After a moment, she turned back to the scene unfolding in the other room.

Through the open doorway, we watched as Vamori stopped beside the counter, opposite Ardaline. He cleared his throat a little too loudly. The young Altmer carefully lowered her beaker and turned around. We saw the surprise on her face as Vamori thrust the Staff towards her, muttering something we could not quite hear.

“My Staff!” Ardaline was around the counter in a flash, taking the long wooden object and caressing it. I bit my lip at the sudden thought that Vamori was probably wishing he was the Staff in that moment. Then the tall Altmer leaned down to throw her arms around Vamori’s shoulders. “Oh, thank you, thank you!” she was saying. The Dunmer hesitated, then put his hands stiffly on her shoulders and patted her awkwardly.

I heard Kud-Ei’s slow inhalation. “Easy, ma’am,” I whispered to her. “He’s more tongue-tied than she is right now.”

“Hmm,” was Kud-Ei’s noncommittal response.

Then Ardaline drew back from Vamori’s clumsy embrace, raised her right hand, and slapped him, hard. Kud-Ei jumped at the sound of flesh hitting flesh. I stifled a smile as Vamori staggered back, clapping his hand to his cheek. “That’s for stealing it from me, you fool!” Ardaline scolded him. To his credit, the Dunmer hung his head and took it without protest. “All the trouble you’ve caused me! All the nights I couldn’t sleep worrying about it!” Ardaline thumped her Staff on the floorboards for emphasis, its power flaring slightly along its length.

Vamori kept his eyes on the floor, twisting his right foot around its big toe, and mumbled something. All I could hear was his voice cracking. His face turned purple with shame. Ardaline calmed down, her eyes resuming their normal placid beauty. “All right,” her voice was barely audible, “I forgive you.”

“Well,” Kud-Ei exhaled slowly. “It seems you have accomplished much more than I expected, Associate.”

“It would seem that years of training recruits does come in useful from time to time, ma’am,” I remarked.

Kud-Ei chuckled voicelessly. “You have your recommendation, Associate,” she said quietly, turning away from the little tête-à-tête.

***************
As I stepped out into the sunlight, warm for the cool Hearthfire day, a woman’s voice called to me from Canal Street. My eyes fell on the lean form of Captain Lerus walking toward me. A gesture of her sword hand beckoned me to join her.

I fell into step beside her, limping toward the Quivering Bridge over the canal. Lerus said nothing at first, and I remained silent when I sensed the pensive air to her stride. The breeze in our faces was cool against my sun-warmed skin. The leaves on the aesculus trees on the banks and the betula trees along the canal were still green, but the southward slant of the noon sun clearly indicated autumn had arrived.

The captain stopped in the center of the Quivering Bridge, turning east to look over the canal toward the docks below. She rested her hands on the rough cable handrail as I stood beside her.

“Do you intend to stay in Bravil long, Julian?” she asked quietly. The carefully neutral tone of her question spurred me to glance at her face, but Lerus kept her eyes on the deep green water below.

“I only returned to finish up some business with the Mages’ Guild, ma’am” I answered. “I need to head out tomorrow.”

Lerus was silent for a few moments longer. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, Julian,” she seemed to arrive at some decision. “Count Terentius is very upset with you, and is threatening to call on the Dark Brotherhood.” Her eyes lifted to the stone walls of the castle beyond. “Only the fact that you closed that Oblivion Gate outside of town has kept him from following through on his threats. That,” she added after a moment’s thought, “along with the matter of your status with the Mages’ Guild.”

“What?” I’ve never met the Count. What did I do to get into his bad graces?

“He was none too pleased when I reported gro-Dragol’s - passing to him, as well as the closing down of the Hunter’s Run.” Lerus did not look at me. “I get the feeling that gro-Dragol has been paying the Count a portion of his profits.”

Is that why Lerus didn’t drag gro-Dragol off for questioning when Loche disappeared? That had been a small detail, which I had initially considered of no consequence, but had been bothering me more and more lately. It just didn’t seem to fit in with the competent image of Lerus I had developed over time. “Do you have any proof of that, Captain?” Now I understood why we had stopped in the middle of the Quivering Bridge. As long as we spoke quietly, no one on the banks could overhear us. Sneaking up on us would be impossible given the nature of the aptly-named bridge.

Lerus shook her head emphatically. “The Count is just a little too clever for that.” Her eyes shifted to the left bank of the canal.

“If the Count is getting a share of gro-Dragol’s profits, where are they going, ma’am?” I looked around at the shabby board-and-batten construction of the buildings around the canal. I considered the rope suspension bridges common here, unlike the more sturdy timber spans of Cheydinhal and the strong stone structures in the Imperial City, Kvatch, and Skingrad. Despite its ideal location on the Niben Bay, Bravil was easily the poorest county seat I had seen so far.

“How much do you remember of your erstwhile companions in the skooma den?” Lerus countered. I realized the direction of her gaze. Though not visible from our vantage point thanks to the dockside buildings between the canal bank and the rickety structure on the corner of Canal Street and Gate Way, there was no question what Lerus was looking at.

“Not much, ma’am,” I thought for a moment. “I remember a Khajiit named R’vanni, and a big Nord -” aren’t all Nords big anyway? “- called Something the Rotted.”

“Reistr the Rotted,” Lerus nodded to herself. “Anyone else?”

“There were others, ma’am” I admitted, “but I never bothered to learn names in that place. I don’t think any of us cared to.” I gazed down the canal toward the castle, searching skooma-fogged memories for faces that never quite solidified into reality. My eyes fastened on a richly-dressed figure crossing the castle bridge toward the town. His green velvet, trimmed with gold brocade, struck a chord. “Him I remember showing up every now and then,” I said suddenly, indicating him with my chin.

Lerus followed my gaze. “Ah, Gellius Terentius,” she commented. “In the skooma den?” Somehow the question held no surprise.

On the other hand, I was surprised. “The Count’s son? That’s the Count’s son?”

Lerus turned and started toward the north bank. “Yes, Gellius Terentius, the apple of the Count’s eye.” She led me to the junction of Mara and Canal Streets, stopping near the crumbling stone planter that marked the intersection. We watched the green-dressed figure, gold brocade resplendent in the sun, head for the rickety flight of stairs leading up to the top floor of Carandial’s building at the far end of Canal Street. Without hesitation, the young man sprang up the creaky steps and disappeared through the garret door.

Lerus remained beside the planter, not speaking. A few moments later, her patience was rewarded by the reappearance of Gellius Terentius carrying a silk-wrapped bundle in his right hand. Whistling reached us on the breeze as he made his way back to the cobblestones of Canal Street and walked east, toward the castle bridge. When he disappeared from sight, Lerus walked to the Mages’ Guild steps, stopping with downcast eyes at the bottom of the stoop. “What do you think he could be carrying?”

I met her gaze levelly. “Place like that? Only one thing, ma’am.” A sudden thought occurred to me. “Is it just the son, or is the Count addicted too?”

Lerus shrugged. “All I know for certain is that he does not see people past four bells in the afternoon.” Now she faced me for the first time during the entire conversation. “There are only two places here in Bravil where you and I can speak frankly about such matters,” she tipped her head back over her left shoulder, “the Quivering Bridge and here, the Mages’ Guild. Kud-Ei runs a very tight ship, and the Count has little influence here.”

I felt my brows lifting at the implications. “I understand, ma’am,” I said quietly.

“There’s one other item of interest,” Lerus added. “A pirate ship -” her eyes unfocused momentarily, “- ah, the Marie Elena, cruises up and down the Niben regularly. We’ve seen them board merchant ships out in the Bay, but they never dock here. Instead, once a month, they drop anchor out on the open water, and gro-Dragol always sends a skiff or two out to them. They off-load their cargo with him and proceed on their way. I mentioned it once to the Count, but he told me it was nothing of importance. Now I wonder -” her voice trailed off.

I thought I knew the direction of her thoughts. Smuggling skooma, as well as stolen goods from the ships they’ve boarded? A memory of a sad-eyed Bosmer woman surfaced in my mind. “What happens to the passengers and crews of the boarded ships, Captain?”

“I’ve seen them toss bodies overboard,” Lerus’s voice grew chill. “Most of them are weighted to sink, but an occasional one washes ashore.” She shook her head. “I’ve heard of no survivors - if there are any, likely they’ve been taken to slave markets in Black Marsh and Elsweyr.”

“The victims you’ve been able to identify,” I held Lerus’s gaze, my tone matching hers, “is there any way I can find out who they are, ma’am?”

“They’re few and far between,” Lerus responded. “How far back do you want to go?”

“Five years?” I asked. She nodded curtly.

“I’ll have Frederick bring them to you,” she turned to leave.

“Just a moment, Captain,” I stopped her. “Why are you telling me all this?”

“Because you’re like me, in many ways,” Lerus responded, her green eyes steady on mine. “But the most critical difference between us is that your hands aren’t tied.”

Posted by: hazmick Sep 1 2010, 02:31 PM

A good portrayal of ardaline and varmori, a slight role-reversal on their parts, it works brilliantly.

And you did a great job with Lerus, you have turned her into a fantastic character which I quite like.

More please?

Posted by: treydog Sep 1 2010, 03:21 PM

The scene between Vamori and Ardaline was just wonderful. Julian’s remark that, “There are some things you have to do for yourself,” was much more satisfying than the in-game resolution. And she has also managed to get Ardaline to show some spirit- a huge accomplishment.

Ohhh, very clever plotting indeed to involve Terentius (who I believe is a known gambler?) in gro-Dragol’s little venture at Fort Grief!

And the pirate ship is another excellent addition to the question of “Why is Bravil so poor?”

The whole conversation with Lerus, including the “tradecraft,” was brilliant.

I think your “but” got “bit” here. What? Why is everyone laughing? What did I say? What do you mean, “channeling Foxy”?

Posted by: D.Foxy Sep 1 2010, 03:23 PM

Two words, Hautee. Only two words.

HELL YEAH!!!!

Posted by: D.Foxy Sep 1 2010, 03:24 PM

And ESSS for YOU, Trey, all I can say
is what the hey did you play
a Foxy for...did your mind go astray???

Posted by: Remko Sep 1 2010, 04:32 PM

Aaah, now we see Lerus' "incompetence" revealed. Just great Haute!

Posted by: Olen Sep 1 2010, 05:29 PM

A most satisfying part. The resolution to the bravil quest, like it's action, was far more satisfying and revealing of character than the vanilla version. Such deviation from the established plot are good additions and really keep the life and character of this piece which makes so much more of Cyrodiil's inhabitants.

The revelations (for Julian at least) about the count's son and possibly the count and the smuggling and the like were well revealed and give me a feeling that Julian might be about to go on an all new quest which I await with excitment.

Posted by: mALX Sep 1 2010, 06:57 PM

OOOOHHHH! A deviation from Bethesda's minds into that of our Hauty - AWESOME !!!!!!!!!!!

Posted by: Acadian Sep 1 2010, 09:43 PM

Two wonderful segments.

Ardaline's staff. I simply love what you did here to richen this quest and bring its characters to life. I am so proud of Julian - and Ardaline too. I've always liked Ardaline. As you have done before, you portrayed Kud-Ei exactly the way I see her. She delivers the goods with wisdom, but in such an understated way. Just beautiful, Rider.

Viera Lerus. Oooh, very intriguing. There are so many possibilities for the enigma that is Bravil and I am so glad you are developing some of that. It seems your Captain Lerus is a rather complex woman with secrets still to be revealed. Clearly there is conflict within her and I am fascinated by the depth you are bringing to her. As ever, Julian is quite the wonderful sounding board to bring out the nature of differing NPCs.

Posted by: SubRosa Sep 1 2010, 09:46 PM

Don’t worry, the Brotherhood quest will be completed. Eventually.
Did you mean the Order of the Virtuous Blood quest? Or is there a Dark Brotherhood quest Julian has gotten herself involved in?

I bit my lip at the sudden thought that Vamori was probably wishing he was the Staff in that moment.
I can think of a pale Bosmer who would wish the same!

Remind me to steal your street names again...

Finally we get to see why Lerus has been sitting on her behind. However, now it begs the question of why has she not resigned in protest? I can see how she cannot arrest or otherwise remove the Count. But she knows what he is up to, and by doing nothing, she has given her tacit approval to his actions. As dramatic as it sounds, tyranny, injustice, and discrimination flourish because people like her are not willing to do anything about it. Like it or not, she is a dirty cop by looking the other way when she knows murder and drug running are being committed. It could be that she is a native Bravilian who hopes to do some good where she is. But the truth is that retaining her position and refusing to act is a betrayal of the people of Bravil, not to mention her own honor.

Tying the skooma den with the Marie Elena was brilliant. However, you have it appearing that gro-Dragol was ultimately behind the skooma operation? But in the game it is Nordinor running it. Would Nordinor be one of gro-Dragol's henchmen then?


nits:
I had to look up aesculus to make sure it was not an ancient Greek playwright you were referring to. Perhaps using a more common name like chestnut might be simpler? Likewise with betula.

Is that why Lerus didn’t drag gro-Dragol off for questioning when Loche disappeared?
You missed italicizing the first I in the sentence.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Sep 3 2010, 04:47 PM

@hazmick: Thanks for the vote of approval on the finish of this quest. I rather like my version better anyways.

@treydog: I’m glad you liked the politics in play here in Bravil - I wanted to explain why it is the most run-down of all the cities of Cyrodiil. Its location on the Bay should make it a thriving river town, what with all the major rivers dumping into the same spot on the Niben (Narsius, Panther, Silverfish, Corbolo . . .) - kind of like St. Louis. And yet, it is just another shabby collection of shacks. SubRosa actually planted the seed of the Marie Elena when she made that comment some time ago about Adanrel’s brother being killed by bandits - no, pirates. It just dovetailed together too neatly. I had to go with Occam’s Razor on this one.

@Foxy: Thanks!

@Remko: I’m glad you ‘get’ Lerus now!

@Olen: Yes, Julian will eventually bring a resolution to the situation in Bravil. But that will have to wait . . .

@mALX: Ya want deviation? Ya want all original work? Be careful what you wish for - ya just got it! An entire chapter full of nuttink but Hautee’s mind!

@Acadian: I’m glad that you enjoy learning about the different NPC’s through Julian. My original intent in starting this story was actually to flesh out the NPC’s, but Julian turned out to be just as interesting in her own way as many of the characters we’ve met so far.

@SubRosa: You’re welcome to my street names! Actually, the maps in my Prima Game Guide all have the names penciled in! As for why Lerus has not resigned in protest, let me ask, why should she abandon her post, and the people of Bravil, over something like Terentius’s illicit behavior? And isn’t she doing something about it by recruiting Julian to her cause? I never realized Nordinor was running the skooma trade. I’ll have to look into it on the wiki. Thanks for the tip.

A bit of a time jump here, but all will be revealed. Chapter 15 is more than ninety-percent free-typing, with very little (other than locations and characters which you’ve already encountered) from the game. I consider this the most important chapter out of the 20 or so I’ve written so far in terms of Julian’s development. This marks a major turning point for her.

*****************
Chapter 15.1 A Confession

Paint trudged through the tall gateway, pausing only to blow hard before ascending the steps. My hands clenched on the pommel, I gritted my teeth at the pain in my right knee, agony shooting up my thigh and down into my ankle with every step the patient gelding took. Hang in there, just have to get to the top of the stairs. I looked up to see three armored figures waiting at the edge of the plaza, their gazes on Paint’s slow ascent. The shortest figure detached herself and ran down to meet us halfway.

“Julian!” It was Jena, concern in her blue eyes. “You’ve been hurt!”

My throat too parched for speech, I nodded silently. Jena stroked Paint’s neck and took his rein, leading him up to where the other two Blades waited. Through blurred vision, I recognized Jauffre by his balding pate and the hilt of the dai-katana rising past his left shoulder. Jena led Paint to a stop on the plaza, turning the gelding slightly so the two men stood at his right side.

Jauffre reached out and fingered the bloodstained cloth wrapped around my right knee. “We sent you for a Daedric artifact,” his eyes met mine. “What in Oblivion did you do, close more Gates?”

Blackness surged around the edges of my vision as I nodded again, then the ground whirled at me. Strong arms caught me, then I saw Captain Steffan’s eyes before the blue sky beyond disappeared into the abyss.

I whirled out of the void as quickly as it had come for me, my body twisting against the pain. As I gasped for air, strong hands caught my shoulders and steadied me, until I could tell up from down again.

“You’re safe, Julian,” Captain Steffan’s voice reached me. His hands on my shoulders squeezed comfortingly, then eased me back onto the cot. I looked into the Captain’s steady azure gaze. “You made it back,” his eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled reassuringly.

I realized that I lay in the Hall of the Blades, near the huge fireplace that was a room in itself. Its heat soaked into my chilled bones, loosening the pain that coiled through my body. A glance at my injured leg revealed that I was no longer dressed in leathers, but rather a loose-fitting woolen robe.

Captain Steffan rose and turned away from me as footsteps drew near. “She’s awake, Sire,” I heard him say, then recognized Martin past Steffan’s broad shoulder. The captain moved away to let Martin sit next to me. I could see the concern in his gaze.

“Jena went to Bruma for the Healer,” he said, picking up a steaming mug. “But here, drink this up. It’ll help with the pain.”

As I accepted the mug in shaking fingers, I looked back at Martin. I tried to tell him about Sheogorath’s Staff, but nothing came out of my open mouth. Martin shook his head and nudged the mug closer to my lips. I sniffed it warily. Tea. Something else. A healing potion? I drank it slowly, nearly gagging at the strong taste of the potion. The tea barely moistened my dry throat.

The healing warmth surged through my body and beat the overwhelming pain back to their sources in my right knee, my left elbow, and my lower back. My vision also cleared, allowing me to see details at a distance. I looked up again, this time seeing not only Steffan, but also Jauffre and Baurus, ranged behind Martin.

“Hmph,” Jauffre grunted. He drew up another chair, setting it by the foot of the cot and sitting down. “Now, Julian, you admit to closing more Oblivion Gates?” Martin shot him a glance, then looked back at me. I knew they wanted to hear why I had been gone so long.

“Five of them,” I whispered.

“Five Gates?” Jauffre sat back in surprise. “You closed five Gates?”

The censure in his voice made me look away. “I couldn’t ignore them, sir, not when they’re so close to the roads and settlements.” I wondered where my gear went. “My pack, the stuff on my saddle?”

“Here,” Roliand’s voice sounded from behind Baurus and Steffan. They stood aside to let the big Nord set my gear down near the cot. He grinned at me. “Your Paint is in better shape than you are, it seems. He’s fine, just needs a rest.” Winking at me, he turned and walked away.

“How long have I been out?” I struggled to sit up.

“Oh, about thirty minutes or so,” Steffan set cushions at my back. “Jena left right away, because we could tell you are pretty badly beat up.” I almost missed the dark look in his eyes then.

“You should wait until the healer gets here before giving your report,” Martin said, drawing my attention to him. “You still look pretty shaky.”

“No, it’ll take too long to wait, Sire,” I sipped again at the tea. “I’d like to fill you and Jauffre in now, while I’m still awake, Sire.”

“I’ll bring the teapot, then,” Steffan turned to go.

“Throw in a couple more potions while you’re at it, Captain,” Jauffre ordered, then turned back to me. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped loosely between them. “Begin, Julian.”

“I went to the Imperial City first, to look up Gwinas,” I saw the look of recognition in Baurus’s gaze. “Gwinas had mentioned being at some Daedric Shrines when I spoke to him about the Commentaries,” I continued, aware of Baurus’s nod. “He was helpful, and gave me the locations of several Shrines, including Azura’s. I decided to go to Sheogorath’s Shrine, south of Bravil.”

Steffan returned with a steaming teapot, placing it over the fire. Martin and Jauffre motioned for me to drink up the last of the tea in my mug. After I did so, I had the strength to go on.

“On the way down to Bravil, I found a Gate had opened near the Green Road, almost on top of a place called Inn of Ill Omen,” I faltered over the name. “When I spoke to the innkeeper, he told me business had fallen off, and he was concerned about the forester that was based there, a Kaeso Marsias.” I searched for approval in Jauffre’s bland gaze. “Marsias was the only Legion around, and I couldn’t leave him to deal with that Gate alone, not after -” I closed my eyes against the memory of the mutilated bodies in the Kvatch Deadlands. “Not after Kvatch.” I struggled to steady my breathing.

“So you went in and closed that Gate,” Martin stated quietly. “Of course, you couldn’t do otherwise.” Jauffre only grunted.

“There was another one right outside Bravil, too,” I added. “In the ruins of that old fort that is on the north bank of the Bay.” I looked into my empty mug. Steffan brought the teapot over and refilled the cup without a word. “Thanks, sir,” I said to him. “I closed that one, too.”

“But that’s not how you got so banged up, Julian,” Martin said. I shook my head.

“I went to the Chapel for healing. As part of my cover, I checked in at the Mages Guild afterwards,” Jauffre nodded in approving comprehension. “I got my recommendation from there, and I had to report to Captain Lerus of the City Watch.”

“Why?” Jauffre frowned at me. I swallowed another sip of the tea to hide my uneasiness at his disapproval.

“She remembered me from my previous visit there,” I answered slowly. “I wasn’t at my best, then, and she practically ran me out of town that time.” I recalled that I had never told Jauffre about my addiction.

Jauffre looked down at his loosely clasped hands. “Why did Captain Lerus run you out of town the last time you were there?” his voice was a growl.

Beside me, Martin shifted, turning toward Jauffre. As I glanced at the Septim, I sensed his protest. Reaching out to touch his wrist, I shook my head at Martin. I have to tell Jauffre myself. “I was drunk,” I spoke slowly. “When I was discharged from the Legion, I was in pain all the time. I drank heavily to escape it. After a while, it didn’t work. When I was in Bravil, I became addicted to skooma -” I closed my eyes.

Fortunately, the smith’s hammer was quiet in my head, and I felt none of the cravings that had hit me hard just a few days ago. Thank you, Akatosh, Talos, Mara, which ever of you took that away from me. “That’s when Captain Lerus kicked me out. I was brawling too much when I wasn’t holed up in the skooma den.”

Looking at Baurus, standing behind Martin, I noticed that he had his gaze on the floor. “As a matter of fact, that’s how I ended up in the Imperial Prison, I think,” I added. “I got into a fight with a Dunmer mercenary at the Wawnet Inn.”

Baurus met my gaze. “Yes, I looked you up after you left me in the Prison sewers. Laterensis Maro has no patience for drunks and brawlers. But he left you alive because that Dunmer was badmouthing the Legion, and you wouldn’t stand for it.”

“And since then,” Jauffre asked me, “any more skooma?”

“Not since Maro arrested me,” I answered.

“You’re in a lot of pain right now,” Jauffre pressed, his gaze skeptical. Is he regretting making me part of the Blades? I wondered. “What’s to stop you from seeking out drink, or skooma?”

“This kind of pain I can handle,” I held the Grandmaster’s gaze. “As long as I don’t get those headaches, I don’t crave any of it. But I’m afraid to take any drink, because I think that’s what kept those headaches going.”

There was silence for several moments. Martin watched Jauffre, who glared at me. Baurus and Steffan considered the wood floor. When the tension became too great, I took a deep breath.

“Grandmaster, sir,” I made myself hold his dark glower, “if you don’t think I deserve to be a Blade Sister, I understand -”

Posted by: Acadian Sep 3 2010, 05:49 PM

Well done. Very powerful, and very Julian.

You handled her fall into unconsciousness and recovery in a wonderfully immersive manner. I could feel what Julian did.

So, now we know that our hero has been 'intercepted' by a few more gates - that of course required her action. It seems Martin understands and Jauffre. . . not so much. Very creative that you are displaying quite different reactions from the two men to the same words.

My money's with Martin. He's a Septim for a reason.

As always, just a joy to read!

Posted by: mALX Sep 3 2010, 06:34 PM

BWAAAAH! After all she's done they are going to reject her for having a past? Jauffre has one, just look at the heads on sticks outside the priory! ARGH! I hope Martin straightens them out, he has a very huge past to cover up!

Posted by: SubRosa Sep 3 2010, 07:24 PM

On Lerus, I do not see how she is recruiting Julian to her cause. She did not hire/ask Julian to close the gate outside of the city, rescue Aleron Loche, or kill the local crimelord. Julian did all those things simply because it is in her nature to be heroic. Lerus is just sitting around until Bravil gets lucky enough for someone else to come along willing to do something. I would not characterize the murder and drug running you are describing as simply being illicit behaviour either. The way you lay it all out, this is all happening because the Count benefits from it, and he is not going to let anyone upset his gravy train. You even implied that he is the reason that the city is in such dire economic straits. Basically, you have led all the problems Bravil has back to his doorstep (which is entirely believable, I have seen it all for real here in Detroit).

Lerus is not the only good cop in a bad town doing her best to make things right. She is a cop doing nothing to make things right. If Lerus were the person you try to portray her as, she would do something, even though it would probably get her killed. The truth is her hands are not tied. That is just the excuse that everyone who is too afraid to act uses. Instead she is playing it safe, staying out of it all, and letting someone else do her job for her.

She could start by closing down the skooma den when the Count's son is in it, with a bottle in his mouth, and throw him and the rest in the dungeon. Then when the Count demands she release him, she can stand up to him and refuse. He might try to sack her, and she can refuse to surrender her command. Things would quickly hurtle to violence then, as the Count would probably try to have her killed. Most likely by whoever her second in command is. Or he might try the Dark Brotherhood instead. If she survives, and is smart enough, she can use that to accuse the Count of trying to murder her and throw him in prison. If he went the DB route, he would have to do a Night Mother ritual to contact them. That leaves plenty of evidence for Lerus to use against him (as it did with Claudius Arcadia). Even if not, he still has to hire the killer, and she just has to make the right person talk. Furthermore, if the Count is being paid off by gro-Dragol and the pirates, then he will have ledgers recording it somewhere. When that much money is changing hands there always is, otherwise he would not know if he was being cheated out of his share of the loot (not just by gro-Dragol, but by his own flunkies).

Or instead of going the above route of your standard Western, Lerus could go Miami Vice instead. She could petition Adamus Phillida for aid, since in the game City Guard are members of the legion, so he is her boss. He can send in an outsider as an undercover agent to get all the evidence on the Count, the crimelord, the pirates, and the skooma trading. Then she can throw a net over them in one fell swoop.

On the other hand, if she is afraid her career will be destroyed because she brought down the Count (a very realistic concern), or if she has a family that would probably be murdered, she can just quit and go work for a ruler who is not corrupt. I hear the Countess in Anvil is looking for someone. She can not only keep her integrity, but also make room for someone else who might take care of business.

The reason none of this happens in the game is because if the NPCs are competent it leaves the player with nothing to do. It is a game after all, and its creators were not interested in making sense, or believable characters, but rather creating a fun romp where the player can walk around fighting things.

I am sorry that it sound like I am being overly critical, but if I am going to give a meaningful critique, I have to bring up the things that hurt your writing as well as those that help it. You are trying to force a very square peg into a round hole, and have made Lerus a completely unbelievable character for me. You wanted an explanation, so I have said my piece, and I am not going to harangue you with it anymore. The last thing I want is for you to worry that I am going to attack you every post you make.

Now, onto chapter 15. You show us Julian at the end of her rope in fantastic fashion. I can feel the exhaustion that covers her in a shroud. Then to top it all off with her having to admit to her skooma addiction in front of everyone. I doubt that is going to be a real issue for anyone though. The way that Julian arrived at Cloud Ruler is the clearest statement of her quality, which none can deny.

Well on that bright side, at least no one was calling her a hero That would just be unbearable!

Posted by: hazmick Sep 3 2010, 07:38 PM

Wow, powerful stuff Haute. I'm on the edge of my seat, cup of tea in hand, waiting for the next chapter

Nice description of unconsciousness and the nerve racking addiction admittance to Jauffre. More? please?

Posted by: Olen Sep 3 2010, 08:13 PM

Well first all from head and not influenced by the game, this I'm looking forward to. A lot. The oppertunities for character development and the like are huge and I can't wait to read it.

You showed that it was Cloud Ruler well, the first sentence was enough to let the reader know (though later confirmation was also there) but without even a hint of telling. It certainly opened the part well and quite an opening it was with her passing out.

The admission of addiction was well done, I'd never seen Jauffre as one to care so much about the past though. Certainly Martin has his past and I'll bet Jauffre as head of the Blades has done shadowy things and sanctioned more. That's not to say that the element doesn't fit the character you've given him though, more that it was unexpected but not ill fitting.

I'm certainly interested to see how this resolves itself, will Jauffre need reigned in by Martin or not...

Posted by: treydog Sep 3 2010, 11:08 PM

A part of me wants to wring Jauffre's neck- a rather large part, actually. That is a measure of your skill at writing believeable characters- and at making us care about Julian.

But- Jauffre's tunnel-vision is in character. He is Grandmaster of the Blades, whose mission is to keep the Emperor alive. And right now, there is only ONE Septim left in the whole place. So, grudgingly, I will give him a pass.

But- if he doesn't cut Julian some slack pretty soon, I hope she (or someone) will remind him that it was his precious Blades that let the Emperor (and all his legitimate offspring) get killed. And that Julian is the only one who has done a bloody thing to avert the Crisis- retrieved the Amulet- (which Jauffre then lost, oh by the way); retrieved Martin; closed the Kvatch gate (plus 5 others); retrieved a Daedric artifact.

Oh- and did I forget to mention she did all this while fighting debilitating pain?

So- there may be the portion of someone's anatomy opposite his head on a pike outside Cloud Ruler- even if I have to send Athynae to see to it!

An absolutely immersive and enthralling addition, haute! Thank you for sharing your vision and your talent.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Sep 5 2010, 04:52 PM

@Acadian: I’m glad that you are enjoying my ongoing development of Martin and Jauffre.

@mALX: That’s what you (and Julian) think! Read on!

@SubRosa: Thanks for the objective criticism. Lerus is one of my blind spots - I will acknowledge that she is a weak point in my plot. I’ve been thinking about going back and rewriting her part. When I figure her out for good, I’ll let you know so you can give me your input. As for the issue of her skooma addiction, I think you are the closest to the mark regarding what happens in my story.

@hazmick: Don’t fall off your seat now. I think it only gets better.

@Olen: I see that you, like SubRosa, don’t see Julian’s past as being a real issue for Jauffre. Again, I will tell you that you’ve hit close to the mark.

@trey: Tell Athynae to cool it - there is no need for her to go rampaging to Cloud Ruler Temple!

@All: I’m just a little taken aback (and tickled) by people’s reaction to Jauffre’s response. I’m a little too close to him - I understand him all too well. I guess it’s my own fault for ending the first segment where I did. But don’t put his head (or that portion opposite) on a pike just yet!

We learn just how ingrained Julian’s new habit has become, and a chance at freedom from old injuries.

****************
Chapter 15.2 A Hope for Healing

Jauffre’s scowl disappeared into a startled look. “You think your addiction is news to me?” he demanded. “You thought I didn’t look into your background?” He jabbed a finger at Baurus. “I got his report before you returned from Kvatch. I knew why you were in prison.” He shook his head, while I stared thunderstruck at him. “No, I am upset because you returned to Bravil, where you became addicted to skooma in the first place. You can’t pick up a bottle there without smelling skooma in it, even when it contains ale or cheap wine.”

“I can’t avoid Bravil forever, sir,” I said after a moment. “I did get those headaches again, after -” I hesitated. Do I tell them I was gallivanting around after a missing person?

“After what?” Jauffre cocked his head at me. Momentarily I realized how my own tironii felt when I put them under inquiry for infractions.

“An old Breton had gone missing,” I admitted, looking down at my bruised hands in my lap. “His wife asked me to find him.”

“Aye,” Jauffre nodded, smiling at my startled look. His gaze sharpened at me. “I have agents in every city, every town,” he added. “As a matter of fact,” he reached inside his cuirass, drew out a parchment, “I have a report here from Bravil, dated yesterday -” he unfolded it and scanned it. “Ah yes, ‘Julian from Anvil discovered the real source of Kurdan gro-Dragol’s main source of income, a sporting hunt of the worst kind - a hunt of men against men, in an isolated fort located on an island in the Bay. She shut the operation down at great risk to herself.’” He looked at me over the top of the parchment. “Is that true?”

“Um, yes,” I admitted, aware of the steady gazes of Martin, Baurus and Steffan on me, though I would not look at them.

“So, did this gro-Dragol give you those headaches?” Jauffre pressed.

“No, it was one of his clients,” I answered slowly. I didn’t want to talk about that incident anymore.

“Yes, an Orsimer named -” again Jauffre consulted the parchment, “Shadeem gro-Mazur, formerly a munifex in the Legio I, a deserter.” He read a bit more to himself, then met my gaze again. “And the only one there with some Legion training.”

“Fought like it, too,” I muttered.

“So when you had those headaches,” Jauffre continued, “what kept you from going into that skooma den?”

“Marz, and the Nine, healed me,” I answered.

“Hmm,” Jauffre raised the parchment again. “And here, it says you were attacked by a Mythic Dawn agent earlier.”

“Yes, but the City Watch took care of that.” I had forgotten about Ranaline.

“Not before you wore her down,” Jauffre shook his head. “You’ve been busy, Julian.”

“But you did go to the Shrine of Sheogorath, you said?” Martin broke in. Relieved at the change of subject, I nodded. Craning my neck so I could see my gear, I saw Sheogorath’s staff, still wrapped in a wolf pelt, leaning against my pack.

“I got that for you, Sire,” I pointed at it. Jauffre leaned down and flung the pelt back to expose one end of the artifact. Martin rose out of his chair and knelt to uncover it.

“The Wabbajack!” he exclaimed, picking it up in his hands. “Good riddance to this tool of mischief!” He looked at me. “Are you sure you want me to use this? Remember, the ritual will consume the artifact.”

“Like you said, Sire,” I responded, thinking of the Grove of Madness, “good riddance.”

Jauffre regarded me for long moments, while Martin took the Staff and leaned it against the stout supporting post nearest his study table. “So far, I only count two Oblivion Gates,” he commented as Martin returned to the chair beside me.

Gulping the last of the tea down, I looked into the mug. “There were three between the Imperial City and Bruma,” I said quietly.

“The one at the corner of the Silver and Orange Roads,” Jauffre nodded. “But where were the other two?”

“On the Red Ring Road, on either side of Aleswell,” I answered. The Grandmaster’s eyebrows rose at me. “I couldn’t leave them open, in such close proximity to the village,” I added, hearing the defensiveness in my voice.

“Aye, they have enough trouble with a certain mage living in Fort Caractacus,” Jauffre pronounced the name with more ease than I had ever managed. He returned my stare blandly. Right, I thought, he’s got agents everywhere.

“The last one,” I looked down again at the empty mug, “was full of nasty traps, fire towers, and clannfears.” I shook my head. “I had never seen them before, though I had heard about them.” I pointed to the gash on my right knee. “They have claws like scythes, tore through my leathers like they were silk.”

Screeching, the reptilian creature lunged at me. Its shield shaped head deflected my katana, while its hooked beak bit on the edge of the Kvatch Wolf . The force of its momentum bowled me over, while I frantically tried to stab at some soft part of its belly. The long, gleaming claws on its hind feet raked down the outside of my right leg, digging deep into my lower thigh and knee as it ran over me. Screaming from the pain, I grimly hung on to my shield as the creature tried to wrench it out of my grip. It dragged me a few meters before letting go of the Wolf.

Struggling to my knees, I raised the shield in time to deflect its return charge. As I was knocked backwards again, the Wolf split into two around my left arm, the two halves held together by the straps I still gripped. One of the pieces struck me in the face, splitting my lip and breaking my nose for the fourth time. Shock and anger at the loss of my Wolf caused me to drop my katana and fling a fireball at the tumbling clannfear. It shrieked as it kept rolling, off the balcony into the pillar of fire below.

I shook my head, returning to the present when Martin pressed my refilled mug back into my hand. “Clannfears are dreadful creatures,” he commented softly, his face careworn in the firelight. “Believe me when I tell you there are worse daedra than clannfears.”

“Clannfears are bad enough, Sire,” I complained. “Sniping them just makes them pissed off.”

“That’s when you want a good bow with a shock enchantment,” Martin advised. I caught Jauffre’s assessing glance at the Septim prince. “Most daedra are susceptible to shock,” Martin continued, ignoring the Grandmaster. “Did you, by any chance, keep any of the sigil stones?”

“Yes, I did,” I pointed at the pack. “In there.”

“May I?” Martin asked, then opened the pack when I nodded. He found the five sigil stones, each carefully wrapped in red wool, the remnants of the Mythic Dawn robe from my escape from the Prison. He examined each one, studying the Daedric script on each. “Here,” he set one on the cot. “This one will enchant a weapon with shock damage. Put it on a steel bow, and you’ll find those clannfears easier to deal with.”

Jauffre leaned back, crossing his arms on his chest, his gaze on Martin skeptical. He didn’t say anything, though. Martin looked up at me after he returned the other four stones to my pack.

“You’ve got two fire damage stones, one nighteye stone, and a chameleon stone,” he commented. “Quite a nice collection there.” He looked at me again. “I hope you consider them worth the risk to yourself.”

“Eliminating the risk to unarmed travelers and villagers is worth the risk to myself,” I responded quietly. “That’s what being a soldier is about.”

“And you’re proud of it,” Jauffre gripped my ankle through the blanket, nodding in approval. “As you should be,” he added. He looked up at the sound of the great doors opening and closing. “Ah, here’s Cirroc,” he rose to his feet. “And I believe that is Selena Orania with him.”

Martin, Baurus and Steffan withdrew as the pair drew near. Cirroc, the Redguard, gave me an assessing gaze. At his shoulder, Orania paused when she recognized me, then she followed Cirroc to my side. I caught her hesitation and recalled that I had never told her of my association with the Blades.

Jauffre picked up my gear and moved the pile to the other side of the fireplace to give the two more room to work. He retreated in the same direction as the others, leaving the Great Hall ‘s fireplace to Cirroc, Orania and myself.

With spare, economical movements, Cirroc examined me, identifying each of my injuries and murmuring to Orania. She drew out a mortar and pestle and moved to the fire, where she found the pot of tea still simmering.

First Cirroc healed my broken left elbow, restoring the integrity of the joint. The black bruises along my forearm, where the Kvatch Wolf had snapped, faded to yellow on my dark skin. Then he focused on my right knee. He bent close and peered at the wound.

“This is on top of an old injury,” he looked up at me, his fingers gently probing at the deep gashes, causing the blood to flow again.

“Yes,” I answered. “Four, almost five years ago - !” I gasped when he did something to send a sharp shooting pain up my leg.

“Yes, and it healed badly,” Cirroc nodded, peering closer at the wound again. “But these gashes have laid it open, damaged the scar tissue badly.” Covering the wound with a bandaging cloth, he sat back and looked at me thoughtfully. “There’s a chance -”

I struggled to sit up again, but he pressed me back against the cushions. “A chance of what?” I asked.

“A chance to undo some of the old damage,” the Redguard’s tone was neutral, but his gaze was very serious. “I must remove the damaged tissue, but I can work to restore some of the structural integrity of the joint.”

I stared at the Redguard. “You have surgical training?” I asked. He nodded.

“I was immunes in the Fourth Legion,” Cirroc leaned forward again to peer at the shredded tissue around my knee. “Medicus vulnerarius.” Surgeon-healer.

Orania turned from the fire to look at me. “He’s very good, too,” she volunteered. “I remember you said you didn’t want surgery, but -” her gaze drifted toward my damaged joint. “If you’re to continue closing Oblivion Gates, you need what Cirroc can provide.”

“I can’t be laid up for long,” I began. Cirroc shook his head.

“Your knee is at a point now that you’re laid up anyway, whether you like it or not,” he said firmly. “I can close the wounds, but structurally speaking, it’s weaker than it was before. You try walking on it, it will give way permanently.”

“How long will Julian be laid up with the surgery?” Jauffre’s voice sounded from behind me.

“A week, maybe more, sir,” Cirroc answered. “I’ll have to come every day to heal it a little bit more. Selena will have to make enough heavy-duty healing potions to supply Julian for that duration as well.”

“Can’t you do it all at once?” I asked.

“Oh I could, but it would be just as bad as before,” Cirroc answered. “This is a case where slow is better. The tissues need to rest and toughen up in between spurts of healing. That was the problem before. Whoever cast that original healing spell on you tried to do it all at once.” He shook his head sadly. “It’s fine for skin, bone and muscles, but tendons and ligaments need more time.”

“Can you do this right away?” Jauffre asked. Cirroc nodded at him.

“I still have my obsidian blade,” he answered, drawing a small packet from his belt purse. “Never leave home without it.” He showed me the small black scalpel. “Still as sharp as the day it was made.”

Posted by: hazmick Sep 5 2010, 05:38 PM

Jauffre! that sly fox, he knows more than he's letting on. much more.

Haa-Rei asks Julian to do as Cirroc says, even if he is a bit snooty about the nine. He also asks her to get well soon so (in the Argonian's words) ''she can fight daedra so I don't have to.''

Posted by: mALX Sep 5 2010, 05:45 PM

ARGH! Finally she is going to get her knee fixed - AND JAUFFRE IS DAMIEN "FOXY" REYNARD !!!!!! All it lacked was him pointing to a spot on that report and he could have been FOXY !!!!!!! AWESOME !!!!!!!!!!


Now that is what we would expect from the head of the Blades, AND he gave Julian her dignity back.

I LOVE THIS CHAPTER !!!!!!!!!

Posted by: Acadian Sep 5 2010, 06:16 PM

Lots of background filled in here. I'm impressed with Jauffre's network of intelligence. It would seem appropriate for the head of the Blades, and is a wonderful tool to help flesh out our modest Julian.

You also make it clear that Martin does indeed have a past. His knowledge of Daedra and sigil stones is impressive.

I loved using the flashback to introduce the horror of clannfears and the loss of Julian's shield. Unless I'm reading too much into things, it also hints at how Julian is growing in her game. Clannfears (or their runts) imply a character with a few levels behind them.

I'm so pleased that it seems our poor hero may finally get some significant relief for that knee.

Wonderful, Rider!

Posted by: SubRosa Sep 5 2010, 06:24 PM

formerly a munifex in the Legio I
This little passage just sings with flavor. Adding in these little touches of specific titles make the setting come alive in a way that saying "a soldier" just cannot.

So now we see where Julian got so badly beaten up. I had assumed that most of those five Oblivion gates came on the way back to Cloud Ruler. Your decision to revisit them in flashback rather than slog through each one before writing Julian's return to Cloud Ruler was wise. It would have gotten very repetitive, very fast (as it does playing the game!). You gave us the best part as well, showing how Julian got her knee re-injured, and the destruction of the Kvatch Wolf. I am going to miss it.

“Your knee is at a point now that you’re laid up anyway, whether you like it or not,”
I love characters who just tell it like it is!

Finally, you bring us to the long-anticipated moment of truth for Julian's knee. I have been waiting for this for a while. Your rationale for why it healed badly in the first place was imho perfect, and believable in a fantasy setting. I am sure as a vet you often see it in bones that are not set properly as well. I have seen dinosaur bones like that, and the way the new growth comes around the old it looks like it must have been incredibly painful for the animal.

Posted by: treydog Sep 5 2010, 09:05 PM

You managed to save Jauffre from a fate worse than having to deal with Edward (and Docada). And not only has he been keeping up with her current activities- he has been planning for the complete healing of her knee.

This was another one where I liked everything about it. I agree that the flash-back method of giving the highlights of the Gates is quite effective. And there is something about the sheer number- and the tangible proof of the sigil stones- that makes us feel the weight and weariness of going into those gates and fighting through to the towers.

And you do a wonderfully oblique job of showing a hint of Martin's background.

In your capable hands, the Blades have become the sort of apparatus that Morrowind hinted at...

Posted by: Olen Sep 5 2010, 09:17 PM

Now there was some development of Julian. I liked Jauffre using his spy network to draw out mroe of what she did, and the way she admitted to helping the poor and closing gates and the like as if it was something she should appologise for was priceless. That seam of subtle humour really made this part shine.

And now the knee is to be repaired, and about time if she's meeting clanfears (a cleverly subtle way of showing that she is becoming more skilled).

Infuriatingly true.

I'm looking forward to her resting up in Cloud Ruler too, if your first description of it was anything to go by this should be a treat in the character line. Certainly the interplay between Jauffre, Julian and Martin is excellent. And I suspect she'll be getting a new shield and bow (though she should really consider fireshield as an enchantment).

One vauge nit:
Martin, Baurus and Steffan withdrew as the pair drew near - the double use of drew sort of jarred but that might be more to do with my obsession with the like.

Posted by: Remko Sep 6 2010, 11:06 AM

Pfff. tell me about it, dislocated my left shoulder nearly 10 years ago and it's still painful every once in a while..
Loved it H.E.R.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Sep 7 2010, 02:38 PM

@hazmick: You’ve nailed it! Jauffre plays his cards very close to his vest.

@mALX: Funny, Foxy wasn’t on my mind when I wrote that chapter. Jauffre was growling at me and complaining that I wasn’t giving him enough meat! This whole dialogue was my compromise! Okay, Foxy, go ahead with the Dhertee Inn Uendos!

@Acadian: Yes, Martin is a veritable fount of Daedra lore. And yes, the clannfears are a hint at Julian’s level of gameplay, though I’m not following the leveling up process faithfully at all (I find it rather artificial). I knew you would be glad to see Cirroc offering to heal that bum knee for once and for all!

@SubRosa: I am so NOT going to describe every Gate Julian and I slogged through! They all kind of blur together, you know? Except for a couple of gates where she actually has company, and of course the last one. The damage to Julian’s knee is actually to the tendons and ligaments, not the bones. The knee is one of those things where it’s useless without the ligaments, yet those ligaments are the weak points in the entire thing. A torn cruciate ligament is the most common limb injury we see in dogs. And yes, fractures will heal no matter what, and they will often heal crooked. Of course it hurts while the bone is healing, and every time it’s going to rain . . . As for losing the Kvatch Wolf, well, the shield is gone, but the wolf isn’t.

@treydog: I’m glad you liked everything about that last segment. Julian still doesn’t understand what compelled her to save every one of those damn stones, but Martin just told her why they are so gosh darn valuable! Once I learned what the Blades did in TES III, I wondered why they were less than useless in TES IV. So I made them into the US Secret Service, which consists of so much more than the bodyguards with the sunglasses and earpieces we see around the President (those guys are just the tip of the iceberg, IMHO).

@Olen: I’m glad you enjoyed this chapter so far. I hope to let you see more of Cloud Ruler Temple over the next couple of installments.

@Remko: My vet knowledge tells me that while dogs and horses can recover from fractures and go on to have active lives, those who injure tendons and ligaments are pretty much crippled (in varying degrees) forever. Ugh.

The healing process turns out to be more involved than Julian suspected.

*******************
Chapter 15.3 A Dream of Home

The sight of the tiny black knife, ominous in the way it caught the firelight, made me shudder.”I’m used to pain, but -”

“Selena will make a potion to render you unconscious for the time I need to clean this up,” Cirroc assured me. “All I need is your permission, and -” he glanced past me at Jauffre, “plenty of hot water.”

I felt Jauffre’s hand land heavily on my right shoulder, as he leaned down to my right ear. “Emperor Uriel laid a heavy burden on you, Julian,” he whispered. My gaze slid past his hand to where Martin sat at his study table, head propped up on his fist, eyes on one of a growing pile of books. “You need to be strong to bear it.” Jauffre finished, withdrawing his hand and stepping back.

He’s right. I have to last long enough to see Martin made Emperor, and the Jaws of Oblivion closed forever. If I can’t walk, can’t fight - With a deep breath, I felt something coil in my gut. But can’t someone else do it? Can’t Jauffre assign someone else? My eyes slid over to Baurus, standing in his accustomed place behind Martin. As if I had spoken his name aloud, Baurus’s impassive head turned and he returned my gaze, his expression inscrutable in the torch light. Baurus is Martin’s bodyguard, he can’t leave Martin, ever. And didn’t Martin say there were several parts to the Xarxes ritual? He would need more ingredients.

The exhaustion heavy in my bones, I closed my eyes. Akatosh, I’ve served you for twenty-five years. Aren’t I finished? Can’t I find peace? Again that coiling in my belly stirred in response. I realized that it was the same coiling I had felt when I prayed to Akatosh for healing, back in Bravil. Is it you, Akatosh, that I feel down deep inside me? Nothing stirred in response to my question. With a sigh, I opened my eyes and looked at Cirroc, still waiting patiently.

“Orania, what’s in that potion he was talking about?” I asked, keeping my gaze on the healer.

“It’s a basic paralysis potion with the added effect of sleep and pain relief,” Orania told me. I shook my head.

“But what’s in it?” I pressed.

“Fly amanita cap, lavender sprig, willow bark, and lophophora, from the Alik’r Desert,” Orania frowned at my insistence, puzzled.

“I’m an addict,” I explained. “I can’t have any drink or skooma.”

“There is nothing addictive about my potions,” Orania drew herself up angrily. “No good alchemist would use anything so vile!”

For a second there, I recognized my mother in her stance. Like Orania, she had been proud of her alchemy skills, her ability to mix potions that had powerful effects without causing harm. Swallowing back the twinge Mother’s memory had stirred, I looked back at Cirroc.

“Let’s do it, then,” I said quietly.

“It will take about thirty minutes to prepare the potion,” Orania knelt beside her pack, taking out and inspecting ingredient packets, setting aside the ones she needed “Perhaps Cirroc can heal that broken nose of yours.”

Cirroc smiled at her gentle nudging and nodded agreement. “I can certainly do that,” he laid gentle fingertips on my smashed nose and gently manipulated the fragments back into place, the warmth from his fingers reaching deep into my nasal bones. My eyes closed, and I inhaled deeply through my nose for the first time since the Wolf broke it. As the bones fused, Cirroc’s fingers trailed over the gash left by the broken shield in my lip and chin. In spite of myself, I flinched back from his intimate touch. I opened my eyes, but Cirroc’s neutral gaze calmed me.

“Tell me, what is your favorite memory?” he said quietly. I considered his request thoughtfully.

“Playing with my brother in the hills outside Anvil,” I answered. “We had a small farm on a bluff overlooking the Strid River and the Abecean Sea.” I closed my eyes. “My brother was a year older than I, and a little bossy at times. But he shared what he learned with me, from bow hunting, to sneaking up on deer.” I paused, lost in long-forgotten memories. “He apprenticed to Varel Morvayn, the smith, in Anvil, when he was older. Mother would send me into town with lunch for him. Sometimes I would go to the Mages Guild and buy alchemical ingredients for her, whatever we didn’t grow on our own.”

I fell silent, as Cirroc worked to heal my minor injuries, all my cuts and scrapes, the swelling over my left knuckles, the ache in my spine. Orania worked at the fireplace, where Captain Steffan kept her well supplied with hot water. Finally, she took the final product and poured it into a clean mug.

I took the proffered mug and swirled the clear fluid thoughtfully. The odor was strong, reminding me of dust and dry mold. I looked suspiciously up at Orania.

“I’m sorry, if I had more time, I’d take the smell and the taste away,” she said. “But that refining process takes days.”

Taking a deep breath and holding it, I took the full amount into my mouth. I managed to gag the vile taste down before my stomach could reject it. Gods, that was as bad as Maulhand’s stew! Bile rose in my throat, and I coughed, fighting to keep it down. The first thing I noticed was a growing numbness in my stomach, which moved rapidly up my throat into my mouth. It spread out from my belly through my body at a slower pace. My limbs grew heavy, my breathing slowed down, and my vision dimmed.

Cirroc laid a hand on my forehead. “Sleep, Julian,” he said softly, “sleep.”

“Sleep, sleep,” that soothing voice faded away. My sight cleared, and I found myself standing in tall grass, sere and amber in the late afternoon sun. Soft salty air moved against my face, stirring golden waves around me that mirrored the blue and silver waves on the ocean below. The breeze caused my white hair to whip around my face as I turned slowly around to look back at my home, the small farmstead. In the little field in front of the cottage, a slight figure hoed among the profusion of blooms and foliage. I could feel the heat of the sun on my shoulders, see the beautiful colors of the flowers, taste the brine off the ocean, and smell the scent of aloe vera and bergamot. The chiming of the Chapel bells struck the hour. Four bells in the afternoon.

My eyes on the slight figure, I waded through the tall grass toward the farmstead. The woman straightened up, shading her eyes with her hand as she looked towards the ocean. My heart skipped. Mother always looked towards Anvil Harbor every day, when the Chapel bells rang four times. She never said why she did this, but I always felt the disappointment that renewed each afternoon.

I held my breath as I drew closer. Yes, there was that familiar supple back, the thick, wiry, black hair held back in a heavy knot at the nape of the woman’s neck with a turquoise ribbon, the thin silver band that encircled her right wrist, the bracelet Mother never took off, even when she bathed.

The door to the cottage opened, and a tall youth stepped out, his gaze on the woman. My hands went to my mouth as I stared at my handsome brother. He looked just as he had the last time I saw him, when he was seventeen going on eighteen, beginning to fill out from his apprenticeship with Morvayn. Unaware of my presence, he walked to the slim woman, laying his right arm affectionately across her shoulders and leaning down to kiss her cheek. As he straightened up, his gaze moved northward, towards me.

My feet moved me towards the garden, compelled by some strange hope. “Cieran?” I whispered, brushing the strands of white hair back from my face. My hand stopped its motion at my temple. No, it can’t be. My hair should be black, as black as Mother’s -

The woman turned around, and I found myself running forward, into her outstretched arms. “Mother!” As we hugged each other, I felt Cieran’s arms enfold both of us in his bear hug. I found myself laughing, carefree for the first time in so many years. Years? Catching my breath, I leaned back to look at Mother.

Her slim hands reached up to cup my face, gently brushing my hair away, her eyes lingering on its startling white color. She looked as she did when I last saw her alive, as did Cieran, but I - I had changed. I now stood taller than Mother, eye to eye with my brother. My smooth hair shone white in the afternoon sun, no longer blue-black like the raven’s wing.

Again my heart skipped, as I realized that this wasn’t real. “It’s been so long,” I said to Mother. “I’ve wanted to tell you -” my voice faltered. Tell her what? There were so much to tell her, yet I didn’t know what to say. I looked helplessly at my brother. Both of them smiled at me, love in their dark eyes. “I love you both,” I looked from one to the other, still enfolded in their embraces. “I never stopped loving you both,” I was sobbing now, all the pent-up grief at their loss running like the incoming tide over me.

Mother wiped the tears from my cheeks, then brought my face down to her shoulder, her arms holding me close, her hand cupping the back of my head, as she used to do when I was small and woke up with nightmares. We stood together for long moments, until something coiled within my belly. As if she felt it too, Mother’s embrace loosened, and she stepped back from me, sadness in her eyes. My arms fell away as she backed to the cottage, never taking her gaze from mine. I moved to follow her, but my brother’s strong hand on my shoulder stopped me.

“Mother!” I cried, but she turned and stepped through the doorway into the cottage, disappearing from my sight. I saw as much heartache in Cieran’s gaze as I felt in my throat. He gripped my shoulder one last time, then stepped away, turning his back to me as he did so. He followed the path leading to the cottage door.

I tried to follow, but the hand remained on my shoulder, pinning me to the spot. I reached up to seize the hand, felt talons digging into my shoulder, the scales covering the fingers, the fiery breath on the back of my neck. Something about that immense presence gave me courage as I watched the cottage door close behind my brother, and the taloned hand on my shoulder turned to clasp my fingers. A raspy voice sounded behind me -

Posted by: hazmick Sep 7 2010, 03:04 PM

*Thud* Ow, that was so intense I fell out of my chair. Julian's painful memory of her mother and brother was really touching, and the strange creature is very intriguing. I'll sit here waiting in anticipation for the next glorious chapter in the tale of my favourite Redguard.

Posted by: treydog Sep 7 2010, 03:19 PM

Oh my. The “dream sequence” (or was it something more?) was powerful and moving and uplifting and sad. And then the final paragraph!

Anyone who wants to know how to “show and not tell,” look at the way each character in this episode is drawn- Jauffre, Martin with his books, Baurus behind Martin’s shoulder, Orania…. In a very few words of vivid description, we understand the personalities and the dynamics of this group.

And here, Jauffre fully redeems himself in my eyes (and foreshadows another moment which occurs at the end…):

I would point out all the other parts that sing to me, but I would have to quote everything.

One preference issue:



Two “finals” in close proximity. How about- “Finally, she took the resulting product and…”

Posted by: SubRosa Sep 7 2010, 04:48 PM

That dream sequence was not only beautiful, but it also gave us some more info on Julian's mysterious past. Cieran was apprenticed to Morvayn? Emphasis on the was of course. The touch of her mother looking out to the harbor at 4pm every day as an especially delicious way of showing us the effect of Julian's father not being there, either because he abandoned them, or is dead.

Most of all however I felt the claw of Akatosh throughout this entire segment. In a very subtle way, you made it clear that Julian is not simply the right person in the right place, rather she has been claimed by Akatosh. Perhaps just as Martin's past has shaped him into the person the Empire needs most at this time, Julian's past has likewise done the same?

Posted by: mALX Sep 7 2010, 06:54 PM

ARGH!!!!!!! Don't stop there!!!! You have to post the rest of this....ARGH !!!!!!!

I am holding my breath till the next post!!!! * mALX expires from lack of oxygen in front of PC, waiting for next installment of OHDH... *

Posted by: Olen Sep 7 2010, 08:09 PM

Now there was a part which really shines out even in this piece. The dynamic of the group was spot on. The 'coiling' which might have something to do with Akatosh being introduced then appearing in the dream before a certain claw which suggests it might be more than a dream. Excellent stuff, and a bit more of her past. I think this is the first we've heard of a brother, certainly the first mention of more than his existance. It makes me wonder what happened, and if her mother's death was more than old age...

Perhaps Martin and Julian aren't the only ones being manipulated by the gods...

And that's quite a cliffhanger.

Posted by: Destri Melarg Sep 7 2010, 09:37 PM

Okay, I’m back with my obligatory wall of text! I enjoyed so much about these last chapters that this is going to be a very LOOONNNNGGGGG post. You have been warned.

Chapter 14.3 The Shrine of Sheogorath

First I want to commend you on incorporating Gwinas’ directions into this chapter. They gave Julian a frame of reference outside of the combat and helped to bridge the gap in logic that says that there is no way that Julian would have been able to anticipate the Mad God’s offering demands.

I have to agree with trey that there was something slightly jarring about Julian’s need to cleanse the area of bandits. The explanation for her actions was both logical and well described, but there was an undertone to her actions that was both uncharacteristically cold and blood-thirsty. Could the distaste she feels for the task at hand be causing her to take her frustration out on the bandits she seeks to encounter on the road?

Chapter 14.4 Sheogorath’s Reward

Ah, the K’Sharra Prophecy. You already know how I feel about that! I know you are an animal lover, but come on . . . FLAMING DOGS!! IN A TOWN FULL OF CATS!!! I know that there is a perverse corner of your mind that registers a chuckle at the thought. On that note, it seems kind of strange to me that we feel empathy for the Khajiit of Borderwatch who suffer nothing more than a temporary fright and a long day cleaning up. We also feel for the sheep and the rats, who one way or another are going to end up dead at the Khajiit hands anyway. But we give no love to the poor, terribly mistreated and immolated DOGS! I am glad that Julian at least describes their dying as ‘sickening’.

You had me from S’thasa’s opening comments about the cheese (brilliant touch to have her make those comments to Julian over lunch!). Julian’s agonizing over ways to fulfill the conditions of the prophecy without killing the poor sheep (apparently the lot of livestock is no better in Tamriel than it is in, say, America) made her distaste with the whole task hit home. I thought the flashbacks to Ri’Bassa’s comments were great companion pieces to Gwinas’ directions in the last chapter and helped form a sense of continuity to the entire Sheogorath storyline. I wish you had included Ri'Bassa's reluctance at conveying the final part of the prophecy. It would have added to the build-up IMO. As it reads now there is something anti-climactic about the big event.

Chapter 14.5 Ardaline’s Staff

Now it all begins to make sense. First it was a return to Bravil and a confrontation with the demons of her past. Then it was her epic struggle against multiple enemies at Fort Grief that ultimately ended in failure. Following that it was her near relapse into the hell of addiction from which she thought herself free. Finally it was an unsavory task for a Daedric Prince that left her doubting her own purpose. I guess it is no surprise that Julian would lash out at random bandits on the road or terrorize a couple of civilians whose only crime was buying a staff from the wrong person. I stand in awe at the subtlety in which you have allowed Julian’s character to reveal itself to us in these last chapters. If it was intentional then you are bumping dangerously close to genius here. If it was a happy accident then I would advise acting like the dog who has just collided with the sliding glass door. Just shake yourself and walk away quietly like you meant for all the world to do exactly that!

Chapter 14.6 Order of the Virtuous Blood

‘Welcome to the hallowed halls of the Order of the Virtuous Blood. We are, for lack of a better term, vampire hunters . . . even though, until now, we have never actually found a vampire. It has, suspiciously and conveniently, come to our attention that Roland Jenseric is a vampire. What we want you to do is go out and kill him so that we can take the credit. Please.’

One of the things that I always admire about this story is the way that you seamlessly juxtapose in-game dialogue and Julian’s often tongue-in-cheek perception. Given the weight of responsibility that she has taken upon herself, and her tendency for melancholy, these moments of levity are a welcome respite.

I love this chestnut:

After emerging from hiding from the man who was ‘to strong’ to confront, Seridur returns to the garden to find the woman dead with two puncture wounds in her neck and it is only then that he realizes Jenseric is a vampire?!! The very thing he was supposedly out there hunting in the first place!! Methinks Seridur’s story should be wrapped in old copies of the Black Horse Courier and flung around the Waterfront for it doth emit the smell of slaughterfish!

On a completely unrelated side note: Deep-Throat made me laugh! And I don’t think that mALX has watched more porn than you. She has watched more old porn!

Chapter 14.7 Investigating Roland Jenseric

Like the others so ably pointed out, the conversations with Claudio and J’mhad really added a sense of depth and weight to the world that you present.

I admit that I found the fact that Julian had to ‘study’ Jenseric’s windows to ‘realize’ that they were uncovered a little strange. It felt like a definite ‘face-palm’ that I think you could have done more with, if for no other reason than to add a little seasoning to Julian’s methodical investigation. That is strictly a personal observation on my part.

Chapter 14.7 (again?) Return to Bravil

Let’s start with Vamori and Ardaline. I love the way that you have chosen to resolve this quest. Like the others said it is far more satisfying than the game’s resolution. My only issue (and it would be a very small one) is your portrayal of Vamori in the scene with Ardaline. He comes across as a little too one note to me. We get that Julian regards him as something of an ineffectual weasel, but that doesn’t mean that he should simply behave like one when getting dressed down by the woman he loves. He should be ecstatic that he accomplished his goal. Through both the hug and the slap, Ardaline is at last paying attention to him.

I would also once again caution Julian on her condescension toward men who step out of line. On her way out of the Mages Guild make sure that she steps down gently, we wouldn’t want her clay feet to break as she looks toward the skooma den!

Now the scene with Lerus is interesting. One can see the dilemma presented to her: resign her post and leave the people of Bravil to whoever the Count would name as her successor, or swallow her revulsion at certain of the Count’s crimes in order to remain at her post to protect the people of Bravil. I would not envy her that choice. SubRosa raises some interesting and valid points, ones that I am inclined to agree with as the story is written now. Perhaps, in a later chapter, we can be given some indication of the good that Lerus does while letting other things slide. That will help us to see her situation in a different light. I also disagree with your assessment of Lerus. I think that she is an incredibly strong character. That is why it is so maddening to see her constantly watching from the sidelines. The woman is a player, coach. Get her into the game!

The Count has dealings with both the Dark Brotherhood and the Marie Elena? Can we infer that Gaston Tussaud’s untimely demise was born of machinations begun in Castle Bravil?

Chapter 15.1 A Confession

trey might graciously give Jauffre a pass, but I won’t. Tell the Grandmaster that while he and all his pretty little Blades sit in Cloud Ruler sipping tea and eating roast lamb and mutton, Julian is the only one actually doing something about the Oblivion Crisis! His attitude grates on the nerves as much as Julian’s does toward men who are weaker than her. There is a certain justice in that, I suppose. It is certainly a testament to your skill that we care enough to get angry when we see Julian getting short shrift. I wouldn’t change anything about this chapter. As aggravating as Jauffre’s demeanor is, it still perfectly fits the character that you have developed.

I simply reserve the right to criticize him for it.

Chapter 15.2 A Hope for Healing

Finally!!! Treatment for that knee! Now we get to see what Julian at full strength is capable of. Daedra, silver tongue-tied lotharios, psychotic Orcs, and mischievous mages beware!!

The others may be willing to forgive Jauffre, but not me! The fact that he had such detailed reports of Julian’s actions yet still chose to berate and interrogate her shows a man with a pronounced streak of sadism in his make-up. Given her condition, both mental and physical, Jauffre comes across as nothing short of a bully in monk’s robes. Maybe Julian can convalesce in Bruma where she and Paint can get some relative peace.

Chapter 15.3 A Dream of Home

This chapter was simply remarkable. Julian’s reluctance to be rendered helpless and her inadvertent insult to Orania was so in character that my neck literally hurts from shaking my head in admiration. Jauffre’s new-found empathy and compassion slightly lowers my desire to hit him over the head with the Truncheon of Submission (but I still think he’s kind of a d*%#). Everything leading up to the dream-sequence worked perfectly.

‘Sun’s companion’ takes on meaning and weight while reading through Julian’s dream of home. We have all heard Julian mention her mother and brother on numerous occasions, but in this sequence we get a tantalizing hint of the tragic fate that awaits somewhere beyond the door to that simple cottage. The details that you chose to show us, like the mother’s longing gaze toward Anvil Harbor every day at the fourth bell, and the silver bracelet on her wrist that she never takes off, not to mention Cieran’s filling out from being apprenticed to Varel Morvayn are incredibly vivid and strike as truth against that tuning fork that we all possess inside. And the ending . . . with the scaled hand and hot breath of what I can only presume to be the Dragon of Time himself burning the back of her neck.

Beautiful.

Posted by: Acadian Sep 7 2010, 10:59 PM

Magnificent, Rider. Powerful, beautiful, revealing.

What a beautiful description of Julian's home overlooking the Strid River valley and the Abecean!

It was brilliant to use the occasion of Julian's anethesia / surgery to introduce her dream. It was emotional to read. I'm sure it was even more so to write.

I love what seems to be a reference to the presence of Akatosh with Julian.

Here's hoping her knee gets better!

Posted by: D.Foxy Sep 8 2010, 01:43 AM

This was so good, I have even exiled Mr. Dhertee Innu Endo....temporarily....

Posted by: Remko Sep 8 2010, 11:47 AM

The dream sequence part was very vivd. It felt a lot like the part in the movie "Gladiator" where Maximus dies and returns to his wife and child who were so brutally murdered. Powerful and very emotional.

Just beautifully written. Can't wait for the continuation.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Sep 9 2010, 03:11 PM

@hazmick: I hope you didn’t have to go to the ER! Perhaps a seat belt will help the next time?

@treydog: Thanks for forgiving Jauffre! I’m glad you were moved by the “dream sequence.” We will find out just exactly what it is.

@SubRosa: We’ll see just how right you are!

@MALX: Oh, where are the hunky paramedics when you need ‘em!

@Olen: You’ll find out the fates of mother and brother in a couple more segments . . .

@Destri: Thanks for the wall o’ text. I now forgive you for being absent for so long! Actually, I knew you would more than make up for it, and it’s always good to get the overall summary (as you and trey have done) to help me keep the big picture in mind. You’ve mentioned Julian’s aversion to bandits. You’ll see when she visits Anvil (Flashback City!) in a future chapter. Some of the elements from her anesthesia/dream that you pointed out will also be picked up again during Julian’s visit to Anvil.

@Acadian: I’m glad you felt the emotion in this piece. I usually don’t cry when I write the tragic stuff, but I went through half a box of kleenex when I wrote this one! I guess it goes to show just how much I care about this character.

@Fox: Why, oh why did you feel the need to exile DIE? He's always welcome here, you know?

@Remko: The cinematography in the scene you describe is one of the most stunning sequences I’ve ever seen, and it is what made that movie a keeper for me (otherwise it would just have been another dull story about a boring noble general). While I didn’t have it in mind when I wrote this piece, there is no doubt that the impression it left on me has been of some influence.

Julian gets encouraging news when she wakes up.

*******************
Chapter 15.4 - Waking to Hope

“Easy, Julian, you’re safe,” the rough voice brought me back to Cloud Ruler Temple. “You’re home.” I saw Captain Steffan’s blue gaze past his hand on my shoulder. My breath caught in my throat, and I realized that my cheeks were wet.

My left hand came up to wipe the tears away, and I shook my head. “I was home,” I murmured. “Now I’m not.” After a moment, Steffan’s hand squeezed my shoulder comfortingly, then he was gone.

Cirroc looked up from bandaging my knee. “Are you feeling any pain right now?” he asked. “Selena can make up some more of the willowbark potion for you.”

Taking another shaky breath, I considered Cirroc’s question. My right knee felt sore, as if it had been wrenched apart and put back together again, but that stabbing pain was gone. “It’s just achy,” I responded when I felt sure of my breathing. When I moved to sit up, Cirroc pushed me back down.

“You can’t move that leg for two days, now,” he warned me. “Not even to bend it.” He pointed at the stiff structure that encased my leg from hip to ankle. “I’ve splinted your leg to make sure you don’t.”

“Two days?” Quailing at the thought of being abed for that long a period of time, I looked up at Cirroc. “Can’t we speed up the process a bit?”

“And undo all the progress I’ve made?” his retort was oddly reassuring.

“So it’s going to be fine?” I hardly dared to hope. After so long - I let my breath out when he nodded.

“It looked good when I finished,” he assured me. Then his gaze sharpened and he shook his finger at me. “But you need to do the rest of the work, now. Stay off that leg for two days, no less.”

I looked around, not seeing the elegant Alchemist. “Where is Orania?” I asked. Cirroc looked up from his packing.

“She’s in the kitchen, with -” he looked upwards a moment, “ah, Jena, I believe? They’re working on preparing potions for the next couple days, to keep you comfortable.” He nodded at the splinted limb. “There is going to be a lot of inflammation. Part of that is due to damage, and my cutting away the excess scar tissue, but part of that will be due to healing. It’ll hurt, then it will itch like crazy.” He rose to his full height, looking down at me, his pack slung over his shoulder. “Believe me, you’ll be grateful for those potions, as horrid as they may taste.”

I groaned. “More of that vile stuff she made for me?” Cirroc chuckled, shaking his head.

“You’ll have to ask Orania, but it’s not quite the same thing,” he answered. “I don’t think it has the Alik’r lophophora.” He reached down and gripped my shoulder. “It won’t taste nearly as bad as that, I promise.”

As his footsteps receded down the Great Hall, I heard him pause as another approached him, the murmur of voices whispering through the great raftered space. I looked up at the huge beams overhead, the rows of katanas glimmering in the grey light pouring in through the clerestory windows above. What was that dream? Vision? Mother and Cieran haven’t aged a day, but I felt every day of the last - what? - Twenty-nine years? And what was that at the end there? Holding me back from them? Why?

“Julian?” Orania’s approach brought me back to the present. Her concerned gaze met mine. “You had a rough awakening,” she continued, her tone worried. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.” She set the vials in her hands down on the little table at the foot of my cot. “You were supposed to have good dreams.”

I smiled faintly at her. “It was good,” I answered. “Not your fault I woke up the way I did. I just didn’t want it to end, that’s all.”

Orania slid a quick glance at me that I found unsettling, then she looked down at the mug in her hand, emptying a vial into it. She filled it the rest of the way with the tea still simmering on the fire. She brought the mug to me, sitting down next to me and propping me up on the cushions so I could sip at the hot liquid.

“Is this the same foul stuff you gave me before?” I asked warily. She smiled and shook her head.

“Not quite,” she answered. “Just some willow bark and lavender sprig. It’s the lophophora that gives the other potion that vile taste.”

I drank the tea, and tasted the bitterness of the potion. Still, it was not as disagreeable as the anesthetizing potion Orania had given me earlier. The tea helped smooth out the acridity.

“I want you to take a dose of this,” she gestured at the vials on the table, “with some tea every eight hours. The tea will help it work more effectively. Don’t drink any of the klah, though - it is too stimulating.” Orania watched me drink a little more of the concoction. “I was surprised to see you here, Julian,” she said finally.

“Oh?” I glanced at her. “I’m a soldier, why wouldn’t I be closing Oblivion Gates?”

“That doesn’t surprise me, not after the riot act you read the young ones two weeks ago,” Orania retorted. “No, I’m surprised that as hurt as you were, you dragged yourself all the way up here, to such a remote outpost, when you could have come to the Mages Guild, or even to the Chapel.”

Ouch. “Well,” I tried to figure out how to explain why I ended up at Cloud Ruler Temple without revealing my membership in the Blades.

“You’re a Blade sister, aren’t you?” Orania crossed her arms. Shooting a glance at her face, I thought I could see disapproval in her gaze. “And joining the Mages Guild is just your cover?”

I closed my eyes. “It’s more than just a cover,” I murmured into the steaming tea. After I drank down the last of it, I met her gaze again. “I know you don’t believe it, but I’ve got to learn how to live on my own.” I shook my head. “I’ve got to improve my restoration and alchemy skills. The Legion is no longer part of my life, but that doesn’t mean I will forget how to fight for the weak and helpless.” The cup in my lap, I looked down at my hands. “I’ve spent too many years serving Akatosh to turn my back on those teachings now.”

In my mind’s eye, I stared at the closed door of my childhood home, felt the taloned hand on my shoulder, heard the raspy breathing at my back. In my peripheral vision, I saw my shadow stretching away eastward on the amber grass, and the immense shadow of the One who stood behind me, crouched down to my level.

I caught my breath again at the memory of that shape, feeling my eyes widen. At that moment, that something coiled in my gut again. Akatosh, that was you? Are you truly with me? The significance of his presence hit me then. Am I going to need you for what comes next?

Orania touched my arm lightly. With a shake that brought myself back into the present, I looked at her. “Are you all right, Julian?” she asked.

“I just realized something,” I responded quietly. “Something that scares me.” I shook my head. “I’m not sure I understand it.” My eyes dropped to the empty mug in my hands as I rolled it between my palms. “I’ll have to think about it.”

“You’ll have time to think about it, Julian,” Orania said quietly, plucking the mug from my hands and rising. She set it softly down on the table, next to the vials. Dusting her hands on each other, she turned back to me, her expression dark. “I won’t tell the others about the Blades,” she said. “I’ll keep your secret.” Picking up her pack, she slung it at her back. “I’ll be back in a couple of days to restock those potions. You’ll need more, then.”

Posted by: Remko Sep 9 2010, 03:40 PM

I liked "Gladiator" entirely but that's because there was fightingandbloodandgoreandnandandwellboysstuff in it but that particular scene lifted it above the average noble general stuff movie, I agree.

Aaargg.. No answer who's hand it as that held her back. Was it just a pleasant dream or was it something more? (NDE springs to mind)

Don't keep us in suspense too long

Posted by: treydog Sep 9 2010, 03:54 PM

Yes, there are all kinds of “safety” and “comfort.” And some of them are only accessible to us through dreams- or memories.



The Julian Credo?

One of the most intriguing moments in this episode is Orania's ambiguous reaction to the Blades... One might think there is some history there...

Your life experience with healing and recovery again shows; but in a way that is entirely appropriate to the story and the setting. And Julian's growing awareness that she is- perhaps not an avatar- but certainly a champion-in-the-making for a certain draconic divine- delicious.

Posted by: SubRosa Sep 9 2010, 04:02 PM

A nice simple segment that both brings us up to speed on Julian physically, but also sees her grappling with the significance of her vision.

Akatosh, that was you? Are you truly with me? The significance of his presence hit me then. Am I going to need you for what comes next?
I get the feeling it is a yes on both counts. Unless Dragon is Julian's spirit-guide.

Posted by: hazmick Sep 9 2010, 04:24 PM

My armchair-seat belt is now firmly in place but it wasn't needed for this enjoyably relaxing chapter, Julian trying to explain her joining of the mages' guild was nice and you have done a great job with Orania and Cirroc. More please, but don't leave out the tea, it's my favourite!

Posted by: mALX Sep 9 2010, 05:00 PM

Lophophora, isn't Peyote addictive? I thought it was. (or was that just something they tell you as teens to keep you from...


I think Julian has a super-sensitivity to any drug, it could be because she was an addict previously or the reason why she became addicted before - but these visions seem to be fueled after she has taken a concoction each time. That does not take away the validity of the vision though. Native Americans used peyote in rituals to bring visions, did they not? Yet those visions foretold what decisions they would make in future events - and showed the events in advance.

Of course we have foreknowledge that she will need Akatosh, the One - so we know the vision is valid - but are they being fueled by the concoctions? And if so...wait! Are any of those you mentioned double agents for the Mythic Dawn? (Like Hans Black-Nail, etc. are?)


Wait! Let me get my coffee and re-read this !!!!!

Posted by: Acadian Sep 9 2010, 06:59 PM

Oooh! I hope our wonderful (but s t u b b o r n) Julian follows her orders and rests that knee to optimize her recovery!

This piece showcased your superb skill throughout. I limited myself to just 3 quotes:

Wonderfully telling, clever and efficient.

Well, there you go. If anyone ever asks, 'Who is Julian from Anvil?', you can simply paste this in as a reply.

Simply wonderfully immersive writing - painting with words.

Posted by: Destri Melarg Sep 9 2010, 11:14 PM

Hey, two days beats six weeks in traction any day. Julian should count her blessings. Maybe she can get Jauffre to run down to Bruma to fetch her some more tea and hot sweetrolls!

This is my favorite sentence in this chapter. At first I thought it might be a mistake. But then I realized how you meant it, my-self.

I also love the symbolism in Akatosh keeping her from joining her family in the cottage. It fits in with both her former legion career and her new career as Hero of Kvatch, closer of Oblivion Gates.

And it seems that you have a great deal of company when it comes to regard for Julian. I keep seeing her pop up in other people’s fiction. Now, if there were only some way to get her into Interregnum . . .

Posted by: haute ecole rider Sep 11 2010, 03:09 PM

@Remko: I liked that movie Gladiator for pretty much the same reasons you do (and admit to a certain fondness for Predator), even though I’m of the female species. It’s just that the tragedy of Maximus’s family lifts the movie up above the crowd, so to speak. As for whose hand that is on her shoulder, well, let’s say the dream will be explained in 15.6.

@Treydog: I wanted to bring home the fact that once you leave home, you can’t go back again. And yes, that is the Julian Credo, as borne by her actions. And again, you guess correctly - Orania has some history with the Blades, or rather with an agent. It is probably something left unspoken in this story.

@SubRosa: Sometimes simple is better. No, the Dragon is not Julian’s spirit guide, but rather some one who claimed her, as Azura has claimed Acadian’s Buffy.

@mALX: According to the Columbia Encyclopedia, peyote is not physiologically habit-forming the way better known psychedelic drugs such as cocaine, heroin, etc are. It is banned in many locales in the US because of its association with the Native American Ghost Dance - the whites were afraid the natives were going to run off the reservation and kill them all! Nowadays, if you are a member of the Native American Church, you can legally use peyote in your rituals. Julian does not have a sensitivity to drugs per se - her flash backs occur because she is at a loss as to what her new purpose in life is, and she is remembering things from long ago. The most recent sequence is technically not a flashback, but rather a message from the one Divine that has figured the most in her life - Akatosh.

@Acadian: Stubborn is right! I’m delighted as always at the things you notice and your insight into one of the most enduring characters I’ve ever written.

@Destri: The hot sweetrolls would be cold by the time Jauffre gets back from Bruma! I see you noticed the symbolism of Akatosh holding her back from entering the cottage - it is not quite what you think, but your impression fits the entire concept just fine. As for Interregnum, well there is a common link, or rather four of them: Casnar, Valdemar, Alain, and Rielus. How to connect the dots over four hundred years? Hmm . . .

Julian suffers through enforced inactivity - the price one has to pay for recovery! This is a bit long at over 2300 words, but I think you’ll enjoy this. No seat belts required, I think. But do grab your favorite beverage, sit back and enjoy!

****************
Chapter 15.5 Healing Among the Blades

“Good morning, Julian,” Roliand greeted me as he ducked around the curtain that shielded my cot from the rest of the barracks. “Paint is doing fine,” he smiled. “Though I think he misses his daily apple from you.”

I miss seeing Paint, too. I picked up the round globe from my breakfast tray and tossed it to him. “Here, take it for Paint.”

Roliand caught it effortlessly and chuckled. “Ah, but it’s not from you.”

“Pretend you’re me, then,” I countered, keeping my face straight.

The tall Nord shook his close-cropped head. “I’m not as pretty as you, Julian, but I’ll try.” I laughed as he disappeared. Pretty? Me? Yeah, right. I drank down a dose of Orania’s potion, and chased it with the last of the tea. It was the second day of my confinement, and the dull ache in my knee had nearly disappeared.

Jena entered my makeshift cubicle. “Finished with breakfast?”

“Yes,” I answered. “And I took the potion already.” Jena took the teapot and refilled my cup, then took the breakfast tray from my lap. “Thanks,” I added as she turned to leave.

“No problem at all!” she said over her shoulder. “After all, we’re Blade sisters, aren’t we?” I smiled as she left. Caroline and Jena had been taking turns bringing me my meals and making sure I had everything I needed. After being out alone for the past couple of weeks, it felt good to be back among soldiers again, like a well-worn cuirass that rubbed only in the right places.

******************
“Nirim: ‘Only - only what if it ain’t a ghost, Theophon. What if it’s the same creature, and it’s still alive - and it ain’t ate nothing since five years ago -’” Belisarius’s voice was hushed in the quiet of the late afternoon gloom. Outside I could hear the wind picking up, which added to the spookiness of the play he was reading to me.

“The footsteps begin a slow, heavy stomp up the stairs, though whatever it is, we cannot see it. Nirim notices the light beginning to dim from the lantern despite Theophon frantically trying to fix it.” Belisarius’s voice had taken on a neutral narrative tone, before switching to a tone of panic. “Nirim: ‘You said you refilled the lamp!’”

I closed my eyes against the shudder that crawled up my spine. It’s just a play, Julian, just a play.

“The light goes out entirely, and the stage is filled with darkness. Nirim: ‘You promised me you refilled the lamp!’ More footsteps and a horrible, horrible howl. The men scream. The curtain falls.” Belisarius closed the book and looked at me.

Suppressing the tremor that ran up my spine at his effective reading of the play, I smiled at him. “Thanks, Belisarius. I hope I never see that play!” It makes me think of my mother and brother. Only I hope they’re not ghosts.

“It’s pretty scary when you read it,” Belisarius cocked his head, his gaze drifting upwards. “Especially when there’s a snowstorm outside.”

“I think I liked Beggar better,” I responded. “Though Glories and Laments was interesting.” That book described Ceyatatar, the Ayleid ruin I had passed on the Gold Road just northeast of Greenmead Cave.

“If you like the history books, there’s The Battle of Sancre Tor,” Belisarius responded. “I read it once, years ago. Unfortunately, we don’t have a copy of it here, but it’s a fascinating read.”

“I’ll keep my eyes open for it, then,” I promised. “If I find a copy, I’ll bring it to Cloud Ruler.”

*****************
“Hello?” Ferrum’s voice reached me from the other side of the curtain. “Are you decent, Julian?” Caroline and I exchanged amused glances.

“Yes, I am, Ferrum,” I answered. “Come in if you’re not practicing.” Caroline stifled a snicker as she switched teapots and moved to the flap. She pulled the curtain back to let the tall Breton in before leaving with the empty pot.

Ferrum sat down on the stool next to me. “I wanted to tell you that I found the Wolf when I was cleaning your gear,” he said. “I’m sorry that it can’t be repaired anymore.”

I felt another twinge at the reminder. “I’m sorry, too,” I answered. “But it’s only a light iron shield, not meant to withstand clannfears and the like.” Not to mention the abuse it took from that Orc deserter in Fort Grief. “I’m actually surprised it held up so long.” I shifted against the pillows at my back. “I used to go through a shield a month when I was on combat duty in Skyrim. And those were steel shields.”

“I can only imagine what that Wolf means to you, Julian,” Ferrum met my gaze. “I understand it was hard for you to leave a certain Kvatch Guard behind when you closed your first Oblivion Gate.” He glanced up as Captain Steffan pulled the curtain back and entered to stand behind him. “Captain Steffan told me that in the Legion you leave no man behind. To do that at Kvatch must have rubbed you the wrong way.”

“Yes, it did,” I took a deep breath against the reminder of the tortured guardsman. May peace be with you, wherever you are, Menien Goneld. “I carried that Wolf to remind myself of the courage of the Kvatch Guard in the face of a terrifying unknown.” I closed my eyes for a moment. “When it broke, I couldn’t bring myself to leave it behind in the Deadlands. In the Legion, we don’t leave our signum on the battlefield either.”

“That’s what I thought,” Ferrum nodded agreement. “Roliand got me some wolf pelts that he had tanned, and I wrapped the pieces up. Captain Steffan showed me your armory chest, and that’s where I put it.” He regarded me for a moment. “I noticed you have another Wolf in there.”

“You’re right,” I admitted. “And my leather cuirass is beyond repair, too.”

*********************
“How’s the knee tonight, Julian?” Martin asked as he and Baurus sat down at the small table next to my cot. Baurus loaded my plate with ham slices, roasted squash covered with melted butter, and sautéed greens while the Emperor poured more tea for the three of us. They had been sharing the evening meals with me, keeping me company.

“Pretty good, Sire,” I answered. “But I’m waiting until Cirroc lets me out of bed. One day is too long, let alone three!” Baurus grinned at the impatient tone in my voice.

“Well, we’ll find out tomorrow if you can start walking around,” he responded encouragingly. I had a feeling he knew exactly how I felt about being a convalescent. Our plates filled, we took a moment for grace, then started in on the hearty fare I had come to associate with Cloud Ruler Temple.

After the first couple of bites, I glanced at Martin. “How are things coming along with the Mysterium Xarxes?” I caught the glance Baurus sent him. Martin’s looking haggard these days. Is he still having trouble sleeping?

His hazel eyes pensive, Martin shrugged evasively. “It’s coming along slowly,” he answered. “Though I know the Daedric script, it’s very difficult to translate the meaning into Cyrodiilic.” After another bite of the ham, he met my gaze. “I heard your Wolf is beyond repair. I’m sorry to hear that, Julian.”

“It has served me well, Sire,” I answered. Martin nodded.

“As Kvatch has served the Empire,” he added. “But all things come to an end.”

“Sometimes I wish I had seen Kvatch before - “ my voice trailed off. Martin smiled.

“It was something in its day,” he murmured. “The food vendors in the market always had something delicious to eat, no matter what mood you were in. The Count would walk around the city every day after holding audience in the Great Hall. He knew most of us by name.”

“That makes his passing even more tragic,” I mused. “Such civic leaders are few and far between, Sire.”

“True, that,” Martin agreed. He met my gaze. “Did you know Savlian Matius was one of his bodyguards?” Both Baurus and I looked at him in surprise. Though Baurus had never met Matius, I had told him of the man’s courage and tenacity in holding the line against the daedra, and his compassion for the refugees.

“Bodyguard?” I repeated. “I thought he was Captain of the Kvatch Guard!”

Martin shook his head. “Only by being in the wrong place at the wrong time.” We were silent a few moments longer, finishing the last of the meal. “But he showed exceptional leadership during the most terrible crisis Kvatch has ever faced. No wonder the remaining guards looked to him for orders and guidance.”

I recalled how Matius had pursued his goal of rescuing Count Goldwine from the daedra. “If he was the Count’s bodyguard, no wonder he was so determined to reach the castle,” I muttered. Baurus sent me a dark look. I knew he was reliving his own failure as bodyguard to Emperor Uriel. “Matius took the news of the Count’s death very hard,” I added. “Now I understand -”

***********
Finally, on the third day, after tending to the healing wound on my right knee, Cirroc placed a less bulky brace on my leg and handed me a sturdy crutch. Startled, I saw the smile in his black eyes.

“I can get up?” I asked, hardly daring to believe my confinement was over.

“Yes,” the Redguard healer said, his smile reaching his generous lips. “You still need to keep weight off of that knee for another day or so, but you can now get up and start walking around. The brace,” he pointed at the contraption on my leg, “is to keep you from flexing it too far. Keep the foot elevated when you are sitting or laying down, and don’t stay on your feet too long at a time.”

With Cirroc’s strong hands steadying my efforts, I struggled to stand up from the low cot. The pain in my knee, which had subsided to a mere ache, flared up as I gingerly put my weight on the right leg. With just a slight wobble, I managed to get the crutch under my right shoulder, taking the stress off the injured leg.

Determined to get outside, I listened intently to Cirroc’s instructions on maneuvering with the crutch as we made our way into the great hall. Martin turned from his study table, and Baurus saluted me, as I clumped past them for the front doors, Cirroc shadowing me. Belisarius put down his ever-present book and dashed ahead of me to open the left panel, grinning as I flashed him my gratitude.

My momentum carried me out onto the plaza before I could stop. The clashing sound of swords ceased as Pelagius and Fortis stopped their sparring to watch. Lifting my face to the sun, I closed my eyes against its dazzling light and breathed deeply of the frosty air. Never had the cold made me so happy to be alive. My right toes rested against the cobblestones and I looked up into the sky to the west of the sun, my vision filled with infinite blue.

Strength coiled within me, and with it came laughter. Laughter at being alive, at being outside, at the biting cold that was fast numbing my bones. Laughter at my breath puffing visibly in the air, the tall mountains surrounding Cloud Ruler Temple, and the diminishing of the pain that had worn me down for four years.

Akatosh, thank you for being here for me.

I brought my gaze down to see Grandmaster and Captain striding towards me from the gate wall. Past them, Pelagius and Fortis saluted me with their blades before returning to their constant sparring.

“It’s good to see you up and about, Julian,” Jauffre said, his light blue eyes sparking with good humor. “You’ve made a lot of progress in the past couple of days.” A shadow moved through his gaze and was gone.

“It’s good to be outside, sir,” I answered, wondering if I had imagined that darkness. A whicker drew my gaze over my right shoulder towards the stables. “If you’ll excuse me, sirs,” I included Steffan. The two men nodded. Pivoting awkwardly around on the crutch, I hobbled towards the stable.

A brown and white form appeared in the shadow of the open stable door, then Paint came trotting out to me, tossing his head and snorting. He pranced around me, making me laugh again, then stopped in front of me when I reached out my left hand to him. He insisted on sniffing me all over, blowing on the brace covering my right knee, before he would let me touch him. Then he sidled a little, turning his shoulder to me so I could scratch the sweet spot at the base of his neck near the withers. Amused by his antics and his not so subtle hint, I dug my fingertips into his crest, making him arch his neck and wobble his upper lip in the equine expression of bliss.

“Julian!” I heard Steffan’s voice behind me. I turned my head and caught the blur of his hand as he tossed a round object at me. My left hand came up and caught it, and I recognized the apple and looked back at him. The Captain’s grin flashed white in the shadows of his helm. I nodded my gratitude, and bit into the sweet, crunchy flesh of the fruit, sharing it with Paint, keeping the juice from my bites only for myself.

When the apple was all gone, Cirroc touched my shoulder. “Time to go inside, Julian,” he said quietly. “Don’t overdo things the first day out of bed.” His eyes were kind, and smiling. With a rub on Paint’s long nose, I pushed his head towards the stable. The gelding touched my cheek with his soft muzzle, then turned and walked back to his shelter, as sedate as a Prior’s mount.

Posted by: hazmick Sep 11 2010, 03:54 PM

A nice chapter to enjoy with a steaming cup of tea!

Belisarius! yay! A good book (Or post on a fanfiction site ) will take your mind off almost anything. If Julian is ever in need of something to read, the Argonian sitting next to me recommends 'The Argonian Account' series.

Do I detect a little romance with Roliand lol.

More! please?

Posted by: Acadian Sep 11 2010, 04:44 PM

What a lovely time!

On the length, your warning, and breaking the story into multiple separated scenes evaporated any concerns. No worries.

Argghh! Julian, can you not see what others do?

The play-reading scene was very clever. Ah, I begin to sniff some foreshadowing now at the mention of Sancre Tor perhaps?

Wonderful full honors and closure for the trusty shield that served Julian so well.

This does several things for me. Firstly and most importantly, you fed me - and a wonderful meal it was! Secondly, it shows how important Julian is to Martin and the Blades; they care enough about her to take their meals with her at her bed. Thirdly, when viewed within the chapter overall, it is one of many gentle ways you have showed how much Julian's Blade brothers and sisters care for her. Meals and tea from her sisters, salutes from her brothers, caring words and actions from all. . . . I'm sure that Julian cannot help but feel a warmth of belonging - I hope that feeling brings her some comfort.

The reflections on Kvatch were powerfully poignant. Your vision of Kvatch prior to its destruction was most welcome. . . especially for a young elf that is yet to realize she may someday assist in the rebuilding of that city.

Beautiful!

Yay, Paint!

Ok, shut up, Acadian, before you write a book to tell Rider how much you love her story.

Posted by: treydog Sep 11 2010, 04:55 PM

There are many things to like about this one. The rest during Julian’s convalescence is welcome after all those Gates.

I like the revelation about Savlian- it makes a great deal of sense. And the references to the Kvatch Wolf are also quite symbolic- not just of the defenders’ courage, but if Julian’s journey from addict to Blades sister. She has earned that shield many times over, whether she likes to admit it or not.

The personalities you give the other Blades are also a treat- none of that “third spear-carrier from the left” in your story. And that adds tremendous depth.

Normally I try not to quote large passages, but the following must be taken as a whole:

By the same token, I will not attempt to improve upon that perfect, lyrical text by trying to analyze it- I will just admire it.

And finally, the moment with Paint was simply wonderful.

Posted by: SubRosa Sep 11 2010, 06:06 PM

“But all things come to an end.”
This sounds quite prophetic, especially coming from Martin.

Very good twist with the background of Matius being a bodyguard rather than the official captain of the Kvatch Guard. As Julian noted, it brings his determination much more into focus. Likewise the reaction of Baurus. The first thing I thought of was how similar the situations.

A nice calm segment that moves us through the early stages of Julian's recovery, leading to the elation that comes with finally having a sense of belonging and purpose in life once more under the outspread wings of the dragon. Finally, a reunion with one of my favorite characters of the JF, Paint. I really love the depth that you are able to put into your animals. It is one of the things I envy about your writing.

Posted by: mALX Sep 12 2010, 04:55 AM

This chapter is filled with rich dialogue and natural flowing scenes. I love that they tossed the apple for Paint to her and she caught it - My fave part is when she actually brings the apple to Paint (of course) - but ARGH !!!

ARGH !!!! Julian is beautiful !!!!

Posted by: Destri Melarg Sep 12 2010, 09:20 AM

Let’s see:

- hazmick seized on the fondness that I too detect between Julian and Roliand. I’m not sure if it’s romantic or not, but I can feel it just the same.

- Acadian already covered the aspect of Julian’s belonging amongst her brothers and sisters in the Blades, and of how important she is to them.

- trey gave voice to the same thoughts I feel about Julian and her beloved Kvatch Wolf. And he quoted my favorite passage from this chapter. ‘My vision filled with infinite blue’ . . . perfect!

- ‘Rosa nailed the poignancy of the similarity in circumstance between Baurus and Savlian Matius. I could feel Baurus’ pain even as Martin continued speaking.

- And mALX even skewered the apple!

Not much left for me to do. Post length is irrelevant when something reads this well.

MORE!

Posted by: haute ecole rider Sep 13 2010, 05:56 PM

@hazmick: I agree about the good book!

@Acadian: Julian may be a tough old pilus, but she is still a woman, and women seldom believe they are as pretty as others think they are! The paragraph(s) you and Trey quote are my favorite parts of that segment. Oh, yes, and the part about Paint, too. That was right out of my gelding’s book.

@Trey: I’m glad you liked the little bit about Savlian Matius’s background, and that he and Baurus have something in common there. I wanted to show why Julian has so much respect for the two men, though they have never met each other.

@SubRosa: That’s what Martin said, and as I wrote it, I thought oooh! I’m glad you enjoyed the interlude with Paint as much as Julian did. Paint is a lot of fun to write.

@mALX: I’m glad you enjoyed the conversations. I love using dialogue to ‘tell’ when I’m not ‘showing.’ It just feels natural.

@Destri: Both Julian and Roliand love horses. Whether they love each other or not, that’s for me (and JulIan) to know and you (and hazmick) to wonder! I appreciate your comments as always.

With Martin’s help, Julian experiences a startling revelation. This is the end of Chapter 15. With Chapter 16 we will return to the drudgery we euphemistically call the Main Quest.

******************
Chapter 15.6 Akatosh’s Claim

A couple days later, I chafed at the bit again, this time anxious to get rid of the knee brace and the crutch and start practicing the Way of the Crane once more. Cirroc agreed it would be a good way for me to regain my fitness, but insisted I wait until he was satisfied that the knee had fully healed. “It may feel great now,” he warned me, “but it isn’t strong enough yet for the lifestyle you are accustomed to leading.”

Returning to the Great Hall after my daily visit with Paint, I spotted Martin hunched over the study table. I hobbled over to him, sitting down opposite him and surveying the growing pile of books. Deep in his study, Martin did not notice me at first. I waited patiently, for there was something I wanted to discuss with him in his role as a priest of Akatosh.

As he shifted his attention to scribble in his notes, Martin noticed my presence. “Oh, Julian, I’m sorry,” he met my gaze. “I didn’t see you sitting there.”

“No wonder, Sire,” I tapped the stack of books between us. “I can barely see over this pile.” His hazel eyes crinkled, rewarding me with a flash of humor. Then the weariness and care returned to his expression.

“What can I do for you, Julian?” he asked. I hesitated, regarding his careworn face. Would I be adding to his burdens? “Out with it,” he insisted.

“Something’s been on my mind lately, Sire,” I responded. “I’m hoping you can be a priest of Akatosh for me.”

Martin straightened up and set his graphite stylus down. “Of course, Julian.” He looked around, then rose to his feet, stretching his spine. “I’ve got an urge for fresh air,” he remarked, picking up his fur-lined cloak. “Mind heading out with me?”

“Of course, Sire,” I rose to my feet, not quite gracefully. Baurus fell into step behind as we headed outside. Martin led me across the Plaza to the gate wall, where we walked up to the western watch tower. He nodded at Baurus, who dropped back onto the walkway and turned his back to us. At Baurus’s signal, Achille, in the eastern tower, turned from his watch and walked back to the Plaza, leaving us alone.

For a few minutes, we stood quietly, looking out over the dramatic vista spread out below us. I could just barely see the spire of White Gold Tower to the south, blued by the distance. “Sometimes,” Martin spoke into the crystalline air, “I just like to come out here and see.” I glanced at him, but his gaze remained on the land spread out below us. Looking down the mountainside at the walls of Bruma, I remained silent.

See what? I lifted my gaze to the faraway horizon, barely distinct against the blue sky above. The sky? The mountains? Bruma? The forest? As I gazed, a strange sensation crept over me, a feeling that my eyes were filling up with the beauty that was Tamriel. Even the air was full of heartbreaking splendor. It seemed to be the perfect counterpoint to the sight of fire and blood of the Deadlands that still haunted my vision from time to time.

“What is it, Julian?” Martin asked after several moments.

I blinked to bring myself back to reality and took a deep breath. Where to begin? “When I first met your father Uriel, Sire,” I began slowly, “I felt something here,” I pressed my fist into my belly, just under my breastbone. “At first I thought it was nausea, because, believe me, I was horribly sick at the time.”

Because Martin did so, I kept my eyes on the horizon. Somehow I knew he was listening to my halting words. “But when it moved, that smith’s hammer stopped.” I stopped, trying to remember when it happened again. “It moved again when Jauffre asked me to find you, and when I was looking into the fire at Kvatch, the fire that was the Oblivion Gate.”

Martin turned from the beautiful vista before us to look at me. I kept my gaze on the vista below while I considered what to say next. “Every time I faced a fork in the path before me,” I mused softly, “I would feel it.”

“Did it scare you?” Martin asked. I shook my head.

“Rather, Sire, it seemed I found the courage to make my choice and go on.” My right knee started complaining from standing still so long. I shuffled to my left and leaned against the corner post, taking some of the weight off of the still healing leg. The crutch cradled in my crossed arms, I watched my breaths dissipate in the frigid air.

“What does it feel like, this something?” his voice was very quiet.

What does it feel like indeed? “Something coiling, Sire, not tightening or loosening, just turning.” Considering the sensation for a moment, I found the words I needed. “Like a snake shifting in its sleep.” Now I found the courage to meet Martin’s gaze. “But I’m not Tsaesci at all,” I muttered defensively. His brows lifted.

“Is that what you thought?”

With a shrug, I looked away from his level stare. “It occurred to me, Sire, yes, since I never knew my father. But my mother was a low-born Redguard, no noble would have taken up with her -” I stopped myself, silently cursing myself for my stupidity. And what is Martin, but born of a low-class Imperial? Or was he?

“It’s happened before,” Martin’s voice was amused, not offended. “Besides, no one knows for certain that Akaviri are capable of interbreeding with Tamrielic men or mer. It could just be a claim by certain noble families to raise their own status.” He watched me silently for a few moments. “Well, then, if it’s not Tsaesci blood or power sitting in your gut, what do you think it is?”

Suddenly afraid of his scorn, I turned my head to meet Martin’s steady, honest gaze. “Sire, when I drank Orania’s sleeping potion, so Cirroc could work on my knee -” Unable to look at him anymore, I closed my eyes and turned my face away, “I went back home, I mean home.” I told him of my vision, of my family’s homestead in the hills above Anvil. Of my mother and brother as they had appeared when I last saw them alive. How I stood before them in my old, grey self.

My voice caught with remembered grief as I told him how they had left me standing in the garden outside that cottage, how I had tried to follow them, but a scaled, taloned hand held me back. I told him of the Dragon-shaped shadow behind mine, falling across the amber grass in the westering sun. Hearing the tears again in my voice, I stopped and turned to look at Martin once more.

He stared at me, his face pale beneath its wind-tan, his hazel eyes wide. Taking a slow breath, I pushed myself off the corner post, placing the crutch into my right armpit. “Sire, what is it?” I asked him. He shook his head. “Please, Sire, you’re scaring me!”

“Where are your mother and brother?” he managed to get the words out in a whisper, as if he already knew the answer. I couldn’t hide the flinch in my eyes.

“Dead,” I said. “Twenty-nine years ago. Goblins tore them apart in our home.”

“And you saw them as they appeared, before their deaths?” Martin murmured, some of the color coming back into his face as he considered the implications of my vision. “Yet you stood before them as you are today?” I nodded. Martin turned away from me and stepped to the low wall of the watch tower, sitting on the edge and leaning forward, hands on knees, his eyes on the floor.

Beyond him, I caught the glint off Baurus’s helmet as he glanced at us. The Redguard’s dark gaze was hidden by his helm, but I could sense that inscrutability emanating off of him. That scared me even more than Martin’s reaction.

“Julian,” Martin’s tone became very quiet. “That potion Orania gave you had an unexpected effect. She watched you while Cirroc worked. You did fine, apparently, until Cirroc was just finishing up. Then Orania reported that you had stopped breathing.” He looked up at me then. “Much like you’re not breathing now,” he reminded me.

I inhaled sharply. “Are you saying -” I couldn’t get the words out.

“Your heart slowed down, almost stopped.” Martin continued, his gaze holding me up against the unnerving shock I felt. “Captain Steffan, who was assisting Cirroc, said your pulse was almost too weak to feel.”

A wave of vertigo spun my vision as I turned away and stared out at the far horizon. “I died?”

“You came very close to it,” Martin responded. “But before Cirroc could cast a restoration spell of any kind, Steffan said your pulse was coming back.”

“Does it have anything to do with this?” I shoved my clenched fist into my solar plexus. As I spoke the words, I knew the answer. Oh yes, it has everything to do with this.

“Did you see the hand on your shoulder?” Martin asked. “The hand holding you back.”

I shook my head. “I felt it, Sire,” I answered. Unable to suppress a shiver, I turned back to Martin. “Am I losing my sanity?” Did Sheogorath give me more than just that cursed Wabbajack?

“I don’t think so,” Martin shook his head, but his gaze on me still held some wonder.

“So what does all this mean, Sire?” Again, I reminded myself to take a breath.

“I’m not sure,” Martin spoke slowly, straightening up and stepping over to stand before me. “But I believe you’ve been chosen by Akatosh himself.” Again dizziness seized me, and Martin gripped my left shoulder to steady me. “Had you followed your mother and brother into that cottage, you would have died,” he continued, his implacable tone somehow soothing. “But Akatosh kept you back, because he still has need of you.”

His hand gripped my shoulder tighter when I shook my head. “I’ve served Akatosh for twenty-five years in the Legion, Sire,” I muttered. “I’ve never felt him in all that time.” I met Martin’s hazel gaze. “Most certainly not when I was drunk and addicted. Why now?”

Martin considered my question thoughtfully. “Indeed, who knows? You say you first felt this when Uriel Septim spoke to you in the Prison?” I nodded. “Would you say that was your lowest point, then?”

“It was the bottom for me, Sire,” I answered. “When I surrendered to Maro, I fully expected to die. Gods, I wanted to die.”

“You were at your weakest, then,” Martin eased his hold on my shoulder, lowering his hand away. “You were most open to Akatosh.”

“But why me, Sire?” I slumped back against the corner post. “I never amounted to much of anything in the Legion.”

“Are you certain of that?” Martin countered. “From what Baurus told me about your Legion record, you were pilus prior of the Ninth Cohort in the Sixth. You were trusted with raw recruits and poor fighters. Time and time again, you whipped them into fighting soldiers.” He shook his head. “Over forty percent of your century moved on into the First Cohort of other Legions. That’s an impressive figure, Julian.”

He smiled at my startled look. “What, you think I don’t know what the Ninth Cohort is in any Legion - the rawest and the worst fighters? The dregs of the Legion? Good only for arrow fodder?” His words hit close to home, making me shift uncomfortably. “Any soldier who found himself or herself in your cohort didn’t stay there long, and more importantly, most of them lived to move into more prestigious cohorts.”

Martin stepped back, still holding my eyes with his own. “You are much, much wiser than you give yourself credit for,” he continued. “Your mother named you well, when she named you for Julianos.”

“Then how come Julianos hasn’t claimed me, Sire?” Coming to terms with Martin’s statement was still difficult. “Why Akatosh?”

“Ah, but Akatosh is the Father God,” Martin responded. “From him comes all the other Divines.” He smiled again at me. “Who knows why you?” he repeated my question. “What matters is that he claimed you, Julian.”

“Do you really believe it, Sire?”

Martin smiled, his face transformed. “Did I believe you when you told me I am Uriel’s son?” As I gazed at his face, I saw a new serenity beneath the weariness of long hours of studying. I smiled in spite of my inner turmoil and shook my head.

“Do you believe it of yourself now, Sire?” I countered. He nodded. I straightened myself off the corner post and took a deep breath. “Then I won’t fail you, Sire.” Again something shifted beneath the end of my breastbone. Then a sudden realization hit me. “Oh, by the Gods!” I exclaimed to myself.

“What is it?” Martin frowned at me.

“I hate being called ‘Hero of Kvatch,’ Sire,” I admitted. “But if people find out about this -” I groaned.

This time Martin’s eyes crinkled in humor at me. “Then you must accept it, Julian. But they won’t hear of it from me.”

“Promise, Sire?” I could hear the plea in my voice.

Martin nodded, then turned his head towards the Blade standing a few paces away. “Baurus!” My first friend of my new life turned and saluted Martin, slamming gauntleted fist against his breastplate.

“Sire!”

“Did you hear any of that, Baurus?” Martin kept his gaze on me.

“Heard what, Sire?” Baurus responded impassively. “I thought the two of you were just admiring the view, Sire.”

Martin chuckled. “Good, Baurus, keep it that way.”

“As you command, Sire,” Again Baurus saluted Martin.

Posted by: D.Foxy Sep 13 2010, 06:05 PM

Martin nodded, then turned his head towards the Blade standing a few paces away. “Baurus!” My first friend of my new life turned and saluted Martin, slamming gauntleted fist against his breastplate.

“Sire!”

“Did you hear any of that, Baurus?” Martin kept his gaze on me.

“Heard what, Sire?” Baurus responded impassively. “I thought the two of you were just admiring the view, Sire.”

Martin chuckled. “Good, Baurus, keep it that way.”

“As you command, Sire,” Again Baurus saluted Martin.


Now this Baurus is a man after my own heart - I've seen him in real life, in my line of work...

.... soldiers are both born, and (self) made.

Posted by: hazmick Sep 13 2010, 06:30 PM

I like your version of Martin, he is a hard-working kinda guy who is developing into an Emperor before our eyes. I do hope, however, that someone will slip a copy of 'The Lusty Argonian Maid' into his pile of books--he needs a laugh.

Posted by: treydog Sep 13 2010, 07:41 PM

You again force me to break my rule against large block quotes with this one:

You draw the parallel between Martin and Julian beautifully. “Son’s companion,” indeed.



Scary folk, those Blades. And I have a feeling (perhaps a flutter of leathery wings behind me) that Julian will soon be back where the fire is the hottest.

Posted by: SubRosa Sep 13 2010, 10:57 PM

Ahh, so now we finally learn the fate of Julian's family. It seems that goblins are her nemesis.

Also, a good touch in bringing out more about Julian's service in the Ninth Cohort. A good bit of world-building there by incorporating the role of that irl cohort into the fiction. You always mentioned it before, but Martin's words really bring it home. Dragonguts Julian it is then!

“Like a snake shifting in its sleep.”
Or a dragon...

Posted by: Acadian Sep 14 2010, 02:34 AM

By Akatosh! She's a hero!

So, I gather Julian's knee injury was inflicted by goblins that ended her service. Now I realize that goblins claimed her family as well.

Oooh! This was just reading at its best. I curled up and was swept away to the rails of CRT. Loads and loads of stuff in this, and all of it yummy!

Posted by: mALX Sep 14 2010, 02:35 AM

ARGH! When I was first reading that chapter I wondered if she had died because her hair was white! And the reason she couldn't follow them into the house was because she was being brought back to life !!!! ARGH!!! I should have followed my first instinct and not tried to think of a different aspect to it !!!!!

What you have done with Martin and Baurus is nothing short of amazing. They have come to life. Julian has been as alive as any of us you have written her so well - Awesome Writing Nauty Hauty !!!!!!!!!

Posted by: Cardboard Box Sep 14 2010, 06:05 AM

And it's writing of this calibre that causes idiots like me to unthinkingly use his characters without permission.

Posted by: Destri Melarg Sep 14 2010, 10:24 AM

New revelations!! Julian’s family was slain by goblins?! Now we see why her failure against the Goblin Shaman led to both her dismissal from the Legion, and her subsequent descent into the personal Oblivion of addiction. Powerful stuff!

The fact that the Dragon held Julian from death itself makes her ‘dream’ resonate even more. She now finds herself entering the rarified territory inhabited by the Nerevarine and the Eternal Champion! She has been claimed as a knight in the eternal game of chess being played by Dagon and Akatosh. And she was uncomfortable being known as the ‘Hero of Kvatch’! It is too bad that Baurus is such an exemplary Blade. If I were there I would have left melted snow in the heat of my rush to Bruma to spread the good news!

Posted by: Remko Sep 14 2010, 12:35 PM

Gah, I was right, it was a NDE And Akatosh kept her from crossing the point of no return...... wow.
Loved the revelations in those last few installments Hautee

Posted by: haute ecole rider Sep 15 2010, 03:50 PM

@D.Foxy: I’m glad you like this Baurus! I do too!

@hazmick: Ah, either that book or Edward the Imperial!

@treydog: Again you quoted my favorite passage in that segment. As for scary folk, well, I love ‘em scary!

@SubRosa: I’m glad you picked up the history of the ninth cohort of a legion - when I was researching Roman legion structure, I came across this tidbit, and Julian was whispering in my ear: That’s exactly what I used to do . . . When I thought about it, it made perfect sense considering the person she is.

@Acadian: I think the fact that she lost her family to goblins just adds a certain - drive - to Julian our Goblin Hunter; but that career ending injury put an end to that motivation, IMHO. Now she’s got bigger game to deal with.

@mALX: I’m glad you enjoyed Martin and Baurus in this segment - I loved them both as I wrote them.

@Boxee: Ah, I actually appreciated the compliment! In a way I’m sad it didn’t work out, but Bruce is pretty darn memorable in his own way!

@Destri, Destri, Destri: That is why you’re not a Blade!

@Remko: Thanks!

Julian returns to work as Hero.

******************
Chapter 16.1 Oblivion Approaches Bruma

Ferrum and I sparred with each other, while Fortis and Pelagius coached from the sidelines. The knee brace had come off two days ago, and I had lost no time in resuming the Way of the Crane and taking up the Sunbird Dance. Cirroc had shaken his head, but I could tell he was pleased with the way my knee had healed. He did warn me to keep casting my healing spells. Refusing payment for himself, he accepted the drakes I pressed into his hand as a donation to the Chapel of Talos.

Now Ferrum and I circled each other, engaged in a deadly dance with sharpened blades. Instead of the battered leather cuirass, which had seen its last days in that last Oblivion Gate, I wore Savlian’s mail cuirass, which was a little heavier, but provided me with additional protection. Besides, I couldn’t stop carrying the Kvatch Wolf, only I now bore it on my chest instead of on my left arm. I had decided not to select a new shield, for my struggle in Fort Grief had taught me it would be preferable to keep my left hand free for spellcasting.

Sweat rolled down my healed nose, and my breath came in hard puffs in the icy air. Ferrum, on the other hand, was barely winded in the heavy Blades armor, and his face was dry. Still, I looked for ways to push him, to probe his defenses without dropping mine. The sun shone down on us, alternatively blinding Ferrum, then I as we moved around the practice sands.

A faint roll of thunder broke my focus, drawing my attention south. My heart sank as the sudden wind brought the smell of sulfur and fire, the roar I knew all too well. Ferrum took advantage of my distraction to charge me, but I managed to dodge his attack and step out of the practice area.

“What is it, Julian?” Fortis, my coach, moved to me as I turned to face south. I couldn’t see more than sky over the gate wall, which rose higher than the plaza, but what I could see was discouraging. A clot of red and black thunderheads collected in the otherwise blue sky, just visible past the east watch tower. Fortis, Ferrum and Pelagius followed my gaze in time to see Achille, standing eternal watch, turn from his post in the east watch tower and shout for Captain Steffan.

Sheathing my blade, I followed the Captain along the walkway above the gate wall. I stopped as soon as I could see the walls of Bruma below. The orange flicker of an Oblivion Gate glimmered just past its northeastern corner.

Damn! Jearl and Faram are dead! Who opened that damned Gate? “Ferrum,” I said to my sparring partner, who had followed me, “Go find Grandmaster Jauffre, quick!” Without a word, he spun away and ran for the Great Hall.

Captain Steffan turned at the sound of my voice. “Julian,” his command was unmistakable. I winced, thinking I had overstepped my bounds by sending Ferrum for the Grandmaster. I should have waited for orders from my Blades Captain. I entered the watch tower to stand before him.

Instead of berating me as I expected, he pointed at the red glow. “Is that one of those -?”

“Yes, sir, it’s an Oblivion Gate,” I answered. Frantically, I searched my memory for what Savlian had said. “It’s a small one -”

“Small!” the single word was a muted explosion. “That’s small? That thing is higher than Bruma’s walls!”

“The Great Gate at Kvatch is easily a third again as tall, sir,” I replied. “They’ll need to open three of those smaller Gates before they can open the big one.”

Captain Steffan stared at me wordlessly, his jaw clenching. Then he whirled away from me and stalked to the front of the watch tower. “If they open that Great Gate, what will happen then?” his tone was icy calm.

I took a deep breath to match his composure. “They’ll send a siege engine to break the city walls,” I answered. “That’s what they did at Kvatch.”

“What’s going on?” Jauffre’s voice reached us. I stepped aside to let him by, but his eyes were on the portion of the Gate visible above the city walls. “What in Oblivion -!”

How appropriate, considering that’s Oblivion down there, the thought crossed my mind. Silently I listened to Captain Steffan brief Jauffre, telling him what I had just said about the Gates.

The Grandmaster spoke quietly to Captain Steffan, who swung into action. “Ferrum, man the west watch tower! Cyrus, Belisarius, close the gates!” Striding back to the plaza, Steffan’s blue gaze fell on me. “Julian, Grandmaster wants you.” Then he passed me, shouting more orders as he placed the fortress on combat footing.

Moving to stand beside Jauffre, I watched him while he studied the Oblivion Gate. “Julian, you’ve closed six of these Gates,” he said softly. “I know you’ve just recovered, but I think Burd’s Guard may be overmatched for what’s in there.”

“I can close it, sir,” I volunteered, though I hated the thought of entering yet another Gate. “I have my shock bow, and a new Daedra Slayer. I’m ready for those clannfears.”

“Julian,” Jauffre stopped me with a hand on my left arm. “You can’t keep closing Oblivion Gates, not while more keeps opening up all over Cyrodiil.” He shook his head. “That’s not the task Uriel Septim laid on you. I want you to take Burd and his men in there, show them how it’s done, so they can take care of any further Gates themselves.” He shook my arm firmly for emphasis. “Martin is getting close to identifying the other components of the ritual needed to recover the Amulet. You need to be free to help him.”

“Yes sir!” Jauffre’s strategic thinking became clear to me. “I’ll offer to help Captain Burd, but will he accept?”

“He likes you well enough,” Jauffre responded. “I think he will be glad of it.”

“I’ll leave as soon as I get my gear, sir,” I turned to run for the armory. Jauffre’s hand, still on my arm, stopped me.

“Julian,” he said quietly, “you’ve just recovered. Let Burd and his men do the heavy lifting. You be the brains of that operation. For Martin’s sake you need to stay alive.”

“I won’t fail you, sir,” I answered.

Posted by: hazmick Sep 15 2010, 04:35 PM

You've done a great job here, Julian seems calm under-pressure and the Blades have jumped into action to protect the temple. You have also described the Oblivion gate very well, the red sky has really 'brought the fear' rather than bringing the sense of annoyance that we feel in-game. I have a feeling that the next chapter will be quite exciting.

Posted by: mALX Sep 15 2010, 04:36 PM

WOOOOOOOOOOOOT !!!!! Julian in the Battle for Bruma !!!!! I don't know why it didn't occur to me that I will get to read about her doing that !!!! I CAN'T WAIT !!!!!!!!!

Posted by: Destri Melarg Sep 15 2010, 04:37 PM

Ha! Reason number six hundred and forty-two!

Things are hotting up in Bruma, literally! After adjusting myself to the rhythms of Julian's reflective convalescence, the advent of new action came as quite a shock. That is the hallmark of good writing! I detected a hint of, I don't know . . . fatalism perhaps in Jauffre's tone as he surveyed the Oblivion Gate. To my knowledge this is the first one he has seen. Now he sees first hand what Julian has been facing while he reads in the library! Maybe he will curb his condescension from now on (but I doubt it).


Yeah, like that's going to happen!

An excellent, heart-pounding chapter! Excuse me while I go catch my breath.

Posted by: Acadian Sep 15 2010, 06:04 PM

It was wonderful to see Julian don the Kvatch wolf again, albeit in different form.

No shield, so she can cast with her left hand. I love how that address this! With a bow in her left hand all the time, Buffy has to continually choose whether to fill her right hand with the tail of an arrow or a spell. We envy the flexibility Julian has wisely chosen - to carry a blade in her right hand and keep her left hand free for spell casting. Spoken like a battlemage - and likely just as deadly. No wonder Julian is on her way to great things!

Send me in, coach! Seriously, Jauffre's counsel is wise. Julian is the best and only gate closure in Cyrodiil. The Empire is well served by having her share what she has learned with others. And I suspect there are few better qualified than Julian to train others.

Posted by: SubRosa Sep 15 2010, 06:11 PM

As expected, our Dragonguts Julian is not one to sit around and just smell the roses. Instead she is out of bed and working out with the boys. I could almost hear the theme for Rocky in the background as she practiced with Ferrum.

Julian is showing her expertise as well. When it comes to Oblivion Gates, no one outside of the Mythic Dawn knows better than her. Likewise, Jauffre shows why he is a leader by instructing Julian to show Burd how to close the gates, so that he can do it rather than her. His observation that she has to be held back in reserve for more important things is spot on. Pawns move first, and Julian is no longer one of those, but rather a knight.

Posted by: treydog Sep 15 2010, 08:53 PM

I thought my doggie ears had detected a sound of thunder from over the horizon! (And for once it wasn't Princess Juneipurr galloping through the house.)

Several things here to love- Julian's pushing herself to get back into condition; the reactions of the Blades to the Gate versus Julian's instant threat-assessment; her reverting to the Pilus of old- and then realizing this isn't her command; Jauffre's admonition to "use her head."

On that last, I imagine she will strive to obey, but... Dragon-claimed indeed, for she always goes where the fire is hottest.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Sep 17 2010, 02:56 PM

@hazmick: Julian’s calmness just underscores the fact that old habits die hard. I’m glad you liked my touch with the red sky/clouds. I know what you mean about the annoyance in-game - Oh, no, not again! The time inside the Gate will take up quite a few segments in this chapter.

@mALX: I think you’ve got your quests mixed up. The Battle of Bruma doesn’t come until much later; this is the Bruma Gate.

@Destri: I felt it was time for a change of pace, and so did Julian! As for Burd and his men, I took some liberties with the pair that accompanies us in-game - I’m sick and tired of the two lame grunts that are pretty useless (running into harrada vines, impaling themselves on the claw traps, getting slammed by fire towers, etc, not to mention dying before we actually get to the tower).

@Acadian: I almost posted without an explanation of why Julian no longer carries a shield. The way I have visualized the Sunbird Dance in my head, no shield is necessary. Not to mention all the cool swordfighting I’ve been seeing in the historical dramas I’ve been watching . . .

@SubRosa: Good thing I didn’t have liquid (or solid) in my mouth when I read your comment about the Rocky theme! Yes, I figured it was time she got promoted, but old (and new) habits do die hard . . .

@trey: It’s amazing how much noise a little cat can make running through the house, isn’t it? My three-legged con artist is incredibly loud! Julian will heed Jauffre’s orders, but will find it difficult to observe them to the letter.

Hi ho, here we go again . . .

********************
Chapter 16.2 Into the Bruma Gate

The Oblivion Gate stood near the edge of the cliff, south of the Silver Road and Bruma’s East Gate. I spotted several yellow surcoats working on temporary barriers, much like the ones at Kvatch. Burd, distinguishable from the others by his height and bare head, moved from one barrier to the other, speaking to his soldiers. As he turned away from the Gate, he spotted me standing beside the road.

With a wave in my direction, he stumped across the rough ground toward me. I met him halfway. He had the same grim set to his jaw as Captain Steffan, the same hard look in his level blue eyes. “We’re kind of busy right now,” he said curtly. “What is it you need?”

Looking up at him, I knew what to say. “Grandmaster Jauffre sent me to see if I can be of assistance, sir.” I tilted my head at the Gate beyond Burd. “I’ve closed six of them so far, counting Kvatch, sir.”

“Six?” Burd’s brows climbed his forehead. “Well, I don’t see you limping anymore,” he raked his gaze up and down my frame, “and you look like you’ve filled out since I last saw you.” He turned and scowled at the Gate. “Well, that’s more than we’ve managed to do.” He turned back to me. “Any advice?”

“You’ll want your sneakiest men and your best archers in there,” I answered. “I can’t tell you what you’ll find in there - every time I’ve entered a Gate, it’s been to a different part of the Deadlands.” I shrugged. “Grandmaster thought you might want someone along to show you how to reach the sigil stone, where to watch for claw traps, fire towers, and bouncing bettinas, and how to deal with the scamps, Dremora, and clannfears you’re likely to find in there.”

A barely visible wince flickered through Burd’s steady gaze. He considered my words while I watched the Gate for the appearance of daedra. “Well, Julian,” Burd’s quiet voice was barely audible over the roaring of the Gate, the rolling thunder overhead. “You’re here, you may as well show us the way.”

“I’d be happy to help, sir,” I unshouldered my new enchanted bow, Akatosh’s Fury, and strung it. “I’ll be your scout in there.”

“All right, thanks,” Burd seemed distracted, already planning ahead. “Bor, Soren, Senarel!” he shouted to be heard over the thunder. Two guardsmen and Burd’s second in command came running over. Burd gripped the Imperial lieutenant’s shoulder firmly. “Julian’s taking us in that Gate, she’s going to show us how to close it,” he shouted at the three men. “Senarel, you’re in charge out here. Don’t let any daedra get by you!” Senarel nodded curtly and returned to the barriers.

Burd shifted his gaze to the two guardsmen. I eyed them. Young. Scared. Barely more than tironii. But they’re ready to give all they’ve got. I could see the grim determination behind the fear in their eyes. “Bor, Soren, you’re with Julian and me. Listen up, this skinny Redguard closed six of these gates by herself. You’d best listen to her, and listen well!” He clapped me on the back with his other hand, nearly unbalancing me. “Believe me, I certainly will!” Now he shook his finger at them. “For the duration of this exercise, she’s in charge! Am I clear?”

I glanced at Burd, startled. Exercise? Me in charge? I swallowed against that now-familiar shifting in my gut.

“Yes, sir!” the two young guardsmen shouted. “Ma’am!” they saluted me crisply. As I eyed them, I decided to take on my old mantle as pilus prior.

“Which of you is Bor, and Soren?” I asked. The young Redguard raised his hand.

“I’m Soren, ma’am,” he pointed at the gangly Nord next to him. “That’s Bor.” I repeated their names, looking each in the eye.

“All right, men,” I could hear my command voice coming back. “Are you sneaky?”

“Sneaky?” Soren repeated, and both young men glanced at Burd. He only cocked an eyebrow at them. “Yes, ma’am, we’re sneaky!”

“How do you think I closed six Gates by myself?” I challenged them. Again, they glanced at each other.

“By being sneaky?” Bor offered hesitantly. I felt the right side of my mouth quirk upwards.

“Listen carefully,” I leaned towards them, pleased to see all three mirror my movement. “Every one of them is different. What I’m going to do is show you the tactics. The environment in there is nothing like anything here on Nirn. It’s all blood, fire, and hostile creatures. There are traps waiting for the unwary. I’ll teach you how to get yourselves oriented, how to move through the environment, how to identify the traps and dodge them, and how to fight the creatures you’re going to find in there.” I regarded them, and all three of them nodded their comprehension.

“You don’t go in there running, slashing and smashing,” I continued. “That’s been tried before, and it didn’t work.” I thought of Matius’s men. “You go slow, you keep low to the ground, you keep your eyes open, and you be as sneaky as you can be.” The two guardsmen nodded uncertainly. “Engage them from a distance whenever possible, and avoid getting yourself mobbed.” I held their gazes steadily. “Above all, identify the sigil keep, because that is where you must go to get the sigil stone. Once you have it, the Gate will close and you will return to Nirn.”

Looking from Soren, to Bor, to Captain Burd, I held each man’s gaze long enough for them to nod their understanding. “Then I’m ready whenever you are, Captain.” He may say I’m in charge, but technically he outranks me.

“Give me a moment, to speak to the rest of the Guard,” the tall Nord strode to the barricades, the three of us following him. We stepped through the barricades, then Burd stopped and faced his gathered Guard, nodding at Senarel.

“Atten-SHUN!” the lieutenant’s command voice was respectably loud in the face of Oblivion’s roar. The guardsmen shuffled to stand in a crisp line behind the wall of spikes. Spotting Brugels among the gathered men, I nodded at him when he recognized me.

“Men,” Burd shouted, his voice carrying well over the clamor from the Gate behind us. “We’ve got to close that Gate now,” he started stalking parallel to the barricades, making eye contact with each man. Though most of them were young, like Soren and Bor, and probably scared, each man straightened up under Burd’s steady gaze. “If we don’t close it,” Burd continued, “Bruma ends up a pile of smoking rubble like Kvatch. That won’t happen,” he stopped before the center of the line, facing his men, his feet apart as if straddling all of Tamriel, “while I’m Captain of the Guard!” he jabbed a stiff thumb at his broad chest.

Now he turned partially away, keeping his face towards the guardsmen, and gestured his thumb emphatically towards the Gate beyond. “Now the four of us are going in there and closing that Gate. I’m counting on you to hold the line here,” that thumb indicated the barricades, “and kill every single damned daedra that comes out of that Gate!” He paused, again looking each man in the eye. “Are you going to do it?”

“Aye!” the men chorused, the ringing of drawn weapons momentarily drowning out the sound of the Gate.

“What?” Burd cupped his right hand at his ear. “I can’t hear you!”

“AYE!” the response was a roar that almost matched the fury of Oblivion. The men pounded their hilts on their shields. Beside me, Bor and Soren did the same. Again, I felt the right side of my mouth quirk up. Burd makes a good commander, but I wonder if he’ll let me be in charge. He certainly got their blood up - he’s got mine up!

“That’s more like it!” Burd drew the great claymore from its back sheath and swung it down so its tip touched the ground, then back up so its blade was in front of his face, saluting his men. Then he turned away from them, and caught my eye. At his nod, I turned and led the small group across the rough ground towards the Gate.

Scamps and clannfears appeared out of the Gate, snarling and hissing. Pausing to notch an arrow to my bow, I targeted the nearest clannfear. “Leave the clannfears to me!” I shouted. “Watch the fireballs from the scamps!” Calling on Cieran’s teaching, I drew and fired the arrow at the hulking reptile. The missile, charged by the shock enchantment on my bow, hit my target with a white flash, followed by a boom. Gods, that was loud! So much for sneaking! Already, tactics shifted in my mind while I lined up a second arrow on another clannfear.

The scamps ran out of their magicka one after the other, and charged the men. Though the creatures were fierce, they could not withstand the sharp blades of the guardsmen.

One of the clannfears turned and ran for Burd. As I tracked it with Akatosh’s Fury, I held my fire when one of the guardsmen ran between me and Burd’s attacker. The Nord Captain braced his feet and waited until the last minute to dodge the clannfear’s charge, dropping the claymore in an overhand arc onto the creature’s back. Unlike my lighter katana, the heavier blade smashed through the tough hide into the reptile’s spine. The beast crashed to the ground, flailing in agony from the paralyzing blow. Burd wrenched the blade out of the clannfear’s spine and dashed towards a scamp that was attacking two young Guardsmen.

I turned away from the Captain, who obviously could take care of himself, and started targeting clannfears again before they got too close to the more lightly armed guards. Akatosh’s Fury lived up to the name Ferrum had given it, knocking clannfears off their clawed feet and stopping their attacks with lightning and thunder. Around me, guardsmen were tangling with the scamps. Soren and Brugels stuck close to me, keeping scamps away from me, leaving me free to focus on the clannfears.

After what seemed like an eternity, the daedra lay dead, and the guardsmen stood panting, looking at each other. Burd cast his glance at them, his eyes ticking off each guard. They’ve been blooded, I thought, following his gaze. They still looked young and scared, but now I could see a grim determination in most of their faces.

Burd walked up to me, nodding at Soren and waving Bor to join us. “Ready when you are, Julian,” he said quietly to me. I nodded and stepped before the Gate. I had referred to it as a small Gate, but standing in front of it, I felt dwarfed by its immense fire and rage.

“Touch it, to enter the Deadlands,” I suited gesture to words, and my fingertips brushed that fire -

Posted by: hazmick Sep 17 2010, 04:22 PM

Julain is back in action! She resumed the role of pious excellently and the fighting scene was awesome. Good Job! I can't wait to see how Burd's Bruma Bruisers handle Dagon's realm.

Posted by: Remko Sep 17 2010, 04:39 PM

Yeeehaaw!! Go Julian!

Posted by: Acadian Sep 17 2010, 07:42 PM

Several moving parts here, and you handled them well.

I enjoyed how you portrayed Burd's use of his claymore.

Nice to see Julian with a good bow. Those melee guys are handy to have protecting you, but they can get frustratingly in the way too.

Posted by: SubRosa Sep 17 2010, 08:10 PM

Centurion Julian is back, and in action at her peak, throwing around lightning and thunder as if she were Zeus herself. Whoo Hoo!

“and you look like you’ve filled out since I last saw you.”
Did Cirroc give Julian breast implants too?

I held my fire when one of the guardsmen ran between me and Burd’s attacker.
Don't you hate when they do that? No situational awareness at all.


nits:
“Grandmaster thought you might want someone along
This sounds a little odd. Did you mean The Grandmaster? or Grandmaster Jauffre?

I'm not sure if you remembered, but Clannfears reflect damage, so Burd's deathblow should have put a hurt on him as well. Unless you are changing things from the game. Or unless he has an absorb health on his sword (very handy for fighting clannfears, it cancels out what they reflect back at you).

Posted by: Destri Melarg Sep 17 2010, 08:17 PM

Bouncing bettinas? Is that the technical term?

Most people rehab slowly after knee surgery, but not Julian! She strengthens her repaired knee with a leisurely jaunt through the Deadlands!

Usually I have to worry about Julian and her tendency to go toe-to-toe. But with her standing at range laying down the proverbial smack with Akatosh’s Fury, I find my concern shifting to Captain Burd. Don’t worry; I am still eager to see how Daedra Slayer performs. But, in the meantime, SubRosa and I had the very same thought. Tell Burd to be careful with those clannfear. They reflect a portion of the damage aimed at them. After such a rousing speech, and given the way he swings that claymore around, I would hate to see him felled by his own enthusiasm.

Posted by: treydog Sep 17 2010, 08:35 PM

The meeting with Burd was classic Julian- she definitely knows how to manage the delicate sensibilities of officers, especially those who are under duress. And his response is a brilliant bit of understatement:

Since you just happened to come along, and just happen to have closed six of these….

Excellent name for a bow- particularly Julian’s bow.

But the guard captain shows he knows what he is about with the orders he gives to his men.

I wanted to quote the entire scene as Julian sizes up her “helpers” and their responses- but I restrained myself. Consider the whole passage QFT.

A rousing fight, with good tactics- so far.

And a cliff-hanger- ARGH! I shall simply have to press my dachshund snout against the base of the door until Julian returns.

Posted by: mALX Sep 17 2010, 08:37 PM

I hate any of the quests where I am responsible for other NPC's due to a marked inability in melee - I get tired of hearing - "Hey, I'm on your side!" or seeing, "Your killing has been observed by unknown forces." I have a feeling Julian will handle melee with the same calm she faces everything - and emerge victorious and with her full crew!!!

PS - I knew this was the "training gate" - but still it just occurred to me at that last chapter that Julian will be handling the Battle For Bruma - AND I CAN'T WAIT TO READ IT !!!!!!!!! YEAH !!!!!

Posted by: haute ecole rider Sep 19 2010, 07:11 PM

@hazmick: Yes, it’s time Julian got back into action. She’s never one for sitting still for long.

@ Remko: Hi Ho Silver is right!

@Acadian: Burd is a natural for that claymore! He definitely has the shoulders for it.

@SubRosa: I couldn’t resist putting that bit in about having to hold your fire because of the stupid guard!

@Destri: You know, I never noticed that reflect damage in those clannfears. I guess it’s because after my first encounter I decided that those were better put down by sniping. I believe it’s the only one Burd encounters, so he would shrug off the hurt that thing put on him and keep going. Typical berserker Nord. As for bouncing bettinas, I was trying to come up with something for those mines, and I kept thinking of Bouncing Betties of Vietnam fame.

@treydog: Burd can’t show how glad he is that Julian came along! That would be unseemly of an officer! I’m glad you liked his speech to the men - I took the in-game dialogue and embellished it a bit.

@mALX: Well, Julian wouldn’t be a pilus prior of the Ninth Cohort in the Sixth Legion if she wasn’t good at getting green recruits through Oblivion and back relatively intact, would she? As for the Battle of Bruma, it hasn’t yet been written, so I’m not sure if you should hold your breath waiting for it. Instead, I humbly offer you the Cheydinhal Oblivion Gate in Chapter 18. Huzzah!

This was one of the more frustrating Gates for me, second only to the Cheydinhal Gate. Huzzah! We all know how stupid followers in the game can be - I usually tell these three to wait in place while I sneak ahead and clear the path for them. Even so, the idiots manage to get zapped by harrada root, fire towers, et. al. So I’ve taken some creative license and gave these guys some brains and common sense. Enjoy!

****************
Chapter 16.3 Showing the Ropes

- and I crouched down as the heat washed over me again. The roar of the Gate nearly drowned out the gasps from the three Bruma men on either side of me.

“Down!” Burd’s voice snaked through the chaos behind us. In the corner of my vision, I watched Bor and Soren drop into low crouches. Glancing over my shoulder at Burd, I noticed he had already done so.

“Always take a moment to look around, first,” I said to the men. “First find the sigil keep.” I scanned the area, and spotted the tall tower across an inlet of lava to our left.

Bor shivered beside me. “Gods, it’s cold,” he exclaimed. “I thought it would be hot, but -” The blood left my face when I realized the implications of his words. We each bring our own Oblivion to these Deadlands.

“Cold?” Soren repeated, his gaze already scanning the horizon around us. “It’s burning hot!”

“That’s not important,” my voice snapped through the rolling thunder. “See the sigil keep?”

“There,” Soren pointed north, at the tower across the inlet.

“Good, now look closely at it,” I turned to face the two men, including Burd in the lesson. “Sometimes there’s more than one keep. The sigil keep is the biggest, but sometimes it’s hard to tell which one. Always look for the one with the yellow fire in it,” I pointed at the narrow streak of yellow that marked the top of the sigil keep. “That’s because the sigil stone focuses the power of the Deadlands. Inside there, you’ll find a pillar of fire shooting up through the heart of it.” Now I pointed at the wide path that led eastward away from the Gate.

“Look before you walk,” I warned them. I had already spotted the movements of at least three enemies about ten meters away. “Let me scout a little, but watch what I do.”

In a low crouch, I eased forward, keeping my eyes on the horizon. In a chaotic environment like the Deadlands, I had found that maintaining soft eyes, on the distance, allowed me to see movement further in my periphery and count my enemies. Now, I was able to confirm my initial count of three - two scamps and one clannfear. Kneeling in the red sand of the path, I drew my focus in and scanned the ground around me, still keeping track of the three enemies.

No traps here. Broken bridge up ahead, past these three. Probably another one or two on the bridge itself. The structure in question jutted out over the lava towards the north, another twenty meters beyond the three creatures. It was too far away, and the atmosphere too turbid with heat and smoke, for me to see it clearly.

The three creatures were scattered across the path, one down in the weeds near the inlet, one pacing in the road almost directly in front of me, and another appearing and disappearing among the tumbled boulders forming the right side of the path. My gaze on their movements, I targeted the clannfear in front of me, then loosed the arrow. I didn’t wait for the flash, but moved immediately to the right, into the boulders, which would give me cover. This forced the scamp on my right to enter the path to reach me. Two arrows later, the two scamps lay spread-eagled in the red sand, near the crumpled clannfear.

I crept back into the road, kneeling next to the nearest scamp. After a quick scan of the area revealed no new enemies, I turned to wave up the three Bruma men. My hand open, palm parallel to the ground, I moved my arm up and down to signal low and slow.

“The best way to move through open areas like this,” I said as soon as the men had huddled around me, their eyes darting around the Deadlands, “is to clear one area at a time. Always know your cover.” Pointing at the scamp next to my grounded knee, “These are scamps. They’re fast, as you saw back there, and they like to shoot fireballs from a distance. The nice thing is, those fireballs are slow, and you can dodge ‘em if you see ‘em coming. Just be sure of the ground around you - there tend to be traps.” Now I pointed at the weeds to the north of the path. “Those are mostly harmless, but see the clumps of tall grass?” At their nod, I showed them the fine scars on the back of my right hand. “They’re bloodgrass. They’re sharp, like razors, and slice through your skin. Their sap burns in the cuts. They’re not disabling by themselves, but they are distracting.”

“Now, I’m going to move ahead,” I continued, pointing out the bridge fragment ahead. “There are usually something on those structures, so check them out before you get close.” I locked gazes with Burd, who seemed to be listening as intently as the young men. “I’ll keep scouting ahead, and you follow behind. But keep your distance in case I trigger traps.” Now I looked at Bor and Soren. “And cover my back, guys. It’d be nice for a change.” They nodded grimly. “One last thing, keep your eyes open and your hearts true,” I gave them the Blades proverb.

Back on the path, I sidled over the bodies and crept forward, arrow nocked to string. One step at a time, I kept my eyes on the horizon. As I expected, movement on the bridge indicated a scamp running in my direction. The lightning and thunder of Akatosh’s Fury brought another clannfear out of the leafless shrubbery hiding a second broken span to the south. Again, my bow made short work of it. As I started between the bridges, claws appeared out of the ground in front of me. Spinning around, I saw Burd yank the Guardsmen back from the black talons. They looked along the barrier, as did I, and spotted a gap in the weeds near the foot of the bridge. I shook my head at them. No, there may be more traps there, or deadlier plants.

After a few moments, the claw trap sank back into the ground, and I gestured for them to follow me - quickly. We reached the far side of the trap before I signaled a halt. “The thing about traps,” I said to them, “if you’re moving slowly, they trip before you get into the danger zone.”

“That one was clearly for those following the leader,” Burd commented, his voice quieter now that we were away from the howling Gate.

“Or it was meant to keep me in one place, sir,” I responded, pointing at the bridge fragments on either side of the path, now behind us. “There was a scamp on that side, and a clannfear on the other. This trap was meant to keep me in their combat zone.”

Burd’s gaze gained new respect as he considered my words. “I never thought of it that way.”

“You’ve never been in the Deadlands, before, sir,” I turned east again, signaling the others to remain some distance behind. As the path dropped down a steep slope, I looked ahead to see more clannfears. After I picked them off, I followed the road as it turned north to spiral towards the sigil keep. I noticed we were now on the main part of the island. The road swooped up over the crest of a hill, passing between two stone spires. The gnarled fingers of harrada vines draped the bases of the spires facing the road, and I stopped and waved the men up.

“See those?” I pointed out the roots. “Those are lethal. Wait and watch,” I advised them. I sidled up to the right hand spire. As I drew within two meters, the roots darted up and swept across the path with a rattling of dry wood. They missed. I turned as they kept whisking, and moved to the far side of the spire, into the weeds. I looked for spiddal sticks, for they liked to grow in clumps of grassy plants, but I didn’t see any.

I waved for the men to follow in my footsteps, avoiding the harrada vines and leaving the path. Crouched to keep my outline below the top of the ridge, I peered over, signaling the men to do the same.

Two scamps paced the valley floor on the other side of the ridge. Beyond them, I spotted the segmented pillars of the fire towers. Partial walls rose on either side of the road, near the banks.

“May I, ma’am?” Bor unshouldered his bow, stringing it. I liked what I saw in his pale blue eyes and nodded. Moving back a bit to give him room, I notched an arrow just in case. His arrow, a bodkin point, sank deep into the nearer scamp’s chest as Bor sighted another arrow. From my angle, I couldn’t be sure which one he was aiming for, but seconds later the other scamp went staggering back, arrow through its scrawny gut. Bor did not stop, but shot the nearer scamp again before it could heal itself. The creature crumpled to the ground, and Bor raised his bow again. This time, I placed my right hand on his arm to stop him.

“Don’t waste your arrow,” I said.”Watch.” The staggering scamp had stumbled away, blood dripping black from its belly, directly towards the nearer of the two fire towers. As I anticipated, the head of the structure started spinning, sparks wafting off of it like sparks from a bonfire, then a fireball slammed out and engulfed the slow-moving scamp. The whirring sound reached us as the fire tower became inactive again.

“By Talos!” Soren breathed, his eyes wide.

“Did you hear that sound?” I asked him. He nodded. “When you hear it, backtrack fast. It means you just tripped one of those things.” I pointed at the burning scamp. “Mark that body, that’s the outer edge of its fire zone. Their zone is a fairly wide circle about ten meters out from the towers.” Now I pointed out the second tower, just past the first, on the opposite side of the road. “Their zones don’t quite overlap, or the scamps wouldn’t be able to get by them. You can picture their zones, and the safe path that lies between them,” I sketched out a diagonal line that slipped between the towers. “See the wall over on the left? Use that for cover from the fire towers.”

I’m starting to sound an awful lot like old Carius.

Posted by: SubRosa Sep 19 2010, 08:16 PM

Interesting thing about the title of the segment, I was watching Horatio Hornblower a while back and the dvd extras had a section on naval slang from the era. There were thousands of ropes on a ship of the line. A midshipman had to learn the name and function of each one before he could become a lieutenant. Hence the phrase: "learning the ropes". It is amazing how much of our modern slang comes from the same source.

First off, right off the bat an excellent touch of personalization. Soren experiences bitter cold rather than blazing heat. Perfect for a Redguard, whose home is the blazing sands of the desert. I love it!

Second off, this whole segment is a wonderful introduction to the Deadlands. By showing it to us through the eyes of the experienced Daedra Sage that Julian has become, you really hammer home how (3 alliterations ftw!) just how incredibly dangerous the place is. You tend to forget how inimical to life it is after the umpteen-hundredth gate dive in the game. Julian's patient tutelage brings it all home just like the first time.


nits:
There are usually something on those structures
I believe you want is, as the subject is singular.

You described Bor as using a bodkin arrow. Unless you meant an iron arrow (bodkin points were made of iron) you might want to rephrase that.

Posted by: Destri Melarg Sep 19 2010, 11:39 PM

I agree with SageRosa. Bor experiencing bitter cold instead of warmth gives us an interesting glimpse into the personalized nature of Oblivion. Isn’t it ironic then that he would wind up as a city guard of Bruma?

Julian combines scouting and briefing effortlessly, as befits the former Pilus Prior. Having Burd accept her assessment and acknowledge it with respect told volumes about the professionalism of both characters.

The use of the word ‘turbid’ was another of those interesting choices in Julian’s vocabulary. I confess that I found it a bit confusing, coming as it did. When they stood together they could all plainly see the sigil keep in the distance. As Julian scouts ahead, she remarks that she kept her eyes ‘trained on the horizon’ to discern movement from the three targets on the path. Was her visibility impaired by the lava flowing under the bridge? If so, wouldn’t that have compromised Julian’s aim?

Posted by: Acadian Sep 20 2010, 12:45 AM

Wonderful job of driving home the experience that Julian has garnered within previous gates. She is doing a good job teaching and taking care of her 'followers'. Ugh, that is hard, isn't it?

I can hear Julian now: "Well, the good news, guys, is that the clannfears aren't poisonous!" Lol.

Posted by: D.Foxy Sep 20 2010, 02:35 AM

I wish I had had Julian with me, in my past...

Posted by: mALX Sep 20 2010, 02:45 AM

Julian has made a science of taking down the Oblivion gates! Burd is getting better training from her than he ever got in my games, ROFL !!!!! Great write !!!!!

Posted by: treydog Sep 20 2010, 08:06 PM

I really like the idea that each person’s “Hell” (or in this case, Oblivion) is individual to an extent- and that eternal torment for a Nord is never-ending cold.

Wouldn’t it, though? As opposed to charging ahead, blocking my shot, getting into trouble, and jostling my sword-arm… grumble, grumble (stupid followers).

Having the scamp trigger a fire-tower was a good way of showing one of the dangers of the Deadlands. In fact, all of Julian’s hard-won lessons are a textbook to anyone entering a Gate.

Even as I felt the tension of the Deadlands twisting inside me, Julian’s calm voice kept it from becoming unbearable. Simply wonderful.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Sep 21 2010, 05:29 PM

@SubRosa: Actually, it is Bor that experiences cold. We’ll see the differences again in this segment. I found this to be the ideal place to show how Julian has developed her tactics from that Kvatch Gate to now. I used bodkin point to indicate the narrow point as opposed to the broadhead point. If there is another name for the former, I’d appreciate knowing it! Otherwise, I’d stick with bodkin for now.

@Destri: Perhaps turbulent would be better than turbid. I’ll think about it and revisit that. I meant that the atmosphere obscured details, much like a hazy day; objects and the horizon are still visible, but details are not visible.

@Acadian: Heh, heh, I think she kind of liked teaching the youngsters and letting them do the heavy hitting.

@Foxy: Thanks for the compliment! How far in the past are we speaking of?

@mALX: Burd didn’t learn much from me in-game, either!

@treydog: I enjoyed your take on the frustrations we all have concerning TES IV followers’ general IQ level.

Julian continues her lesson on How to Close an Oblivion Gate.

********************
Chapter 16.4 At The Summit

Reaching the sigil chamber, I let the three men through into the rock passage that wound up to the top of the keep. The corridor empty of enemies as usual, I knelt down to catch my breath. Burd lowered his claymore, resting the tip of the blade on the floor, and grounded his knee next to me. The silence of the corridor was deafening after the constant roaring of the column of fire that rose through the heart of the keep.

I felt Burd’s hand grip my shoulder. “Julian,” his battle-roughened voice touched my ear, “are you all right?”

With a quiet cough to clear my throat, I nodded. “Just out of shape, is all,” I remarked. The concerned faces of Bor and Soren hovered in front of me, and I smiled one-sidedly. “After all, I’m not young like these two.” The two guardsmen returned my smile hesitantly, looking at each other.

“Now this part of the keep,” I continued my ongoing lesson in surviving the Deadlands, “is where I usually use my bow. It’s loud, very loud, in there,” I pointed up the passageway where it curved around the dome of the sigillum. “You can use that to cover your approach. It’s also very large inside, so keep your eyes peeled.” Quickly, I described the layout of the sigillum, the ramps up to the balcony, the second set of ramps to the platform at the top. “Usually there’s three daedra there,” I finished, “though once I only found one.”

“Right, there will be three,” Burd repeated. “Ready, boys?” he asked Bor and Soren, who nodded. “Julian?”

After I cast my childhood healing spell, I rose to my feet with little difficulty. “Let’s finish this,” I said. The three men followed me to the two entrances that led into the heart of the sigil keep. Within, I moved to the right, toward the blood-tipped spikes that jutted out of the wall.

I climbed the taloned ramp slowly, scanning the balcony above, arrow notched to Akatosh’s Fury. My feet felt each step before taking my weight, and I kept moving sideways until I was high enough to see two Dremoras patrolling the far side of the balcony. They were hard to see, due to the glare from the sigil fire and the turbid atmosphere within the keep.

The act of raising my bow alerted the three men, who paused on the steps and turned to look. On the balcony, I kept moving to my right to let the others off the ramp onto smoother footing. When they had spotted the two Dremoras, I drew and released the arrow in one movement, taking out the one on the left. My bow went to my back, and my katana flashed into my hand. Above our heads, light flared as the third Dremora, unseen until now, activated a spell at the sound of the arrow striking home.

“Now!” I shouted, running widdershins for the second Dremora, already charging for us with his mace high. I dodged his attack, slicing my katana across his side as I moved past him. My blade slipped beneath his pauldron and bit into flesh. Ahead, a Dremora spellcaster leaped off the leathery ramp, flinging shock beams at me. I stepped aside in time to avoid them, but felt the crackle of their potent energy pass over my mail.

Old Bones swirled into being and I started for the spellcaster as soon as he formed. That was a mistake, for the spellcaster summoned a huge Dremora, easily the biggest one I had ever seen, who demolished my Bones with a fell swoop of its battleaxe. Then that summoned monster turned for me, and the act of dodging his feint slammed me against the wall. I almost lost my footing, stumbling over the rough surface where the ribbed wall met the floor of the balcony. I fall here, I die. As I scrambled along the wall, I searched for the spellcaster. Kill him, and that monster goes away. Kill him, kill him, kill him.

“Julian!” Burd’s voice reached me from beyond the summons, snapping my head around in time to see the hulking Dremora loom above me, his battleaxe swiping horizontally at me. Before I could drop below the weapon’s arc, the curved blade caught me in the side and flung me along the floor. Incredibly enough, Matius’s mail did not give in to the edged weapon, though the pain in my left side sucked the breath out of my lungs. A roll to my left cleared my katana, still clenched in my right hand. I looked up to see the spellcaster standing over me, his expression of victory changing to rage when I made eye contact with him. He brought his hands together as I struggled to my feet, and backed away from me. The broken ribs in my side stabbed as I ran after him. My approach forced him into the wall and I slashed my katana across his abdomen.

The spellcaster snarled as his hands dropped to his belly, bowel loops slipping out past his grasp. Heavy footfalls shaking the balcony floor warned me of the oncoming Dremora. My katana flashed as I stabbed the tip of the blade into the spellcaster’s throat, then rotated my weapon to tear out the soft part. As I whipped the blade around, ready for the Dremora, I saw only sulfurous smoke drifting apart by Burd’s slashing claymore. Our eyes locked over the dissipating spell, then I staggered, lost my balance and fell heavily to the floor.

Burd gave a last glance around, finding no more enemies left standing, then sheathed his claymore. He knelt beside me and grabbed my shoulder. “Julian!” he shouted, for that pillar of fire screamed and howled incessantly, drowning out normal voices. “How bad are you hurt!”

I shoved him away and took the pain in the palm of my left hand, held it, held it, until my knuckles hurt, before releasing the healing magic. My ribs knitted back together, and I was able to take a deep breath. Foamy blood came up on a cough, and I took another breath, testing my lungs. This time, the breathing was easier, the pain diminished.

“Damn, Akatosh!’ I exclaimed. “That was too close!” I noticed the hand Burd held out to me. He easily pulled me back up to my feet. I looked around the balcony, and spotted the two young guardsmen. Bor knelt next to Soren, who lay writhing on the floor. Burd was already starting for them. Running after him, I saw that Soren had scorch markes on his cuirass and down his left arm. That shock spell I ducked!

“Hang in there, Soren!” Bor was shouting, his hands on Soren’s shoulders, trying to keep him from rolling off the balcony.

“Captain!” I shouted. “Get him away from the edge, sir!” Burd was already kneeling next to Bor. Together, the two men managed to drag the flailing Soren towards the wall and relative safety. I fell to my knees next to the injured Redguard and grabbed his face in my hands. Now I could hear him screaming. His eyes were rolled back in his head, and I didn’t like the clammy feel to his skin.

“Soren!” I shouted. “Soren!” I couldn’t break through the agony I knew he had to be feeling. Desperately I slapped him hard across the cheek. Ignoring the stinging in my hand, I watched Soren come back to himself a bit, his black eyes blinking in surprise at me. “I know it hurts!” I leaned back down to him. “But lie still!” This time, I felt his pain, the white fire that ran along every nerve in his body, that squeezed the very blood out of his heart.

“Akatosh!” I hissed. Can you hear me? Feel me? Give me the strength to help this young man. You know I don’t want to lose any more tironii! I closed my eyes, taking Soren’s pain into my left hand. Fighting the suddenly overpowering compulsion to take my hands away from Soren, I sent the last of the healing power I had into the young Redguard. His shaking and gasping stilled under my hands, only now I began shaking myself. Opening my eyes by force, I looked down into the dark gaze of a scared boy. Then Soren blinked, and the man came back. He took a deep, shaky breath, his hands rising to my wrists.

“I’m better, now, ma’am,” he panted, his voice barely audible above the roaring of the sigil fire.

“You certain?” I held his gaze. He nodded, his grip strengthening. My hands dropped away from his face, and I sat back with a groan. “Lie there a moment, get your breath back,” I ordered him. Let me get my breath back, too. As I watched, his face returned to its healthy color, his lips no longer so pallid blue. He closed his eyes, and I looked up at Bor. Both he and Burd looked pale, their noses and cheeks white. Reaching across Soren’s prone body, I touched Bor’s face. Ice cold.

“Let’s get out of here,” I struggled to my feet and sheathed my katana. “You’re getting frostbite, and Soren and I are getting burnt.”

Once the two Nords gained their feet, they reached down and helped Soren up. I led them to the leathered ramp and we slowly walked up to the platform, just beneath the roof of the dome. I pointed out the dark, crackling stone that topped the sigil fire, sparking and shooting bolts of red lightning into the air.

“Stand real close to me,” I said over my shoulder. “I’m not sure how far this extends. I’ve never left anyone alive to follow me through.”

“Shall we hold hands?” Burd shouted. I glanced at his completely serious expression. Then his mouth quirked upwards slightly.

“Won’t be a bad idea,” I answered. I held my right arm back for the three men to grab onto. Once they nodded their readiness at me, I reached for the sigil stone with my left hand and grasped it.

Posted by: D.Foxy Sep 21 2010, 05:36 PM

Tense, smooth, natural. The way warrior prose should be.

Posted by: Acadian Sep 21 2010, 06:06 PM

Well done, Rider! There was so much I liked here!

The noise. It cuts right through you and makes your ears (even round ones) tingle. I'm so glad you described it.

The taloned ramp - I love this description.

I almost fell to the floor as well. Wow, this was good!

Healing. I was impressed by your description of how Julian healed her ribs. Then I was amazed to realize that Julian is an empathic healer! How very precious that makes her willingness to heal others.

Holding hands. I see Julian will never forget the one soul left behind in that gate at Kvatch. Wise and safe move, Julian. I'm so glad you discussed the 'physical proximity' to the sigil stone when the gate is closed.

Posted by: hazmick Sep 21 2010, 07:04 PM

Yeah! Julians 'schooling' of the Bruma guard throughout the last two chapters was brilliant, as were your descriptions of the deadlands. Bor has my sympathy here, his idea of hell is freezing cold yet he is stuck being a Bruma guard, poor guy. Haa-Rei is yet to visit the deadlands (I'm about to go on the xbox so he might pay them a visit) and he was hoping that it would definately be as hot as everyone says!

Julian's healing skills keep getting better and better, heal other on target is the next step i think I can't wait to see if they all make it back in one piece!

Posted by: treydog Sep 21 2010, 08:31 PM

The entire episode is powerful and heart-pounding. After reading that, I don't know if I will ever again think: "Oh great, another stupid Gate."

Hope for the best; plan for the worst. That way, everybody comes back alive. That's how you survive to become an outstanding captain.



Nothing to say about that one- just wanted to place it there to admire.

The healing- of herself and of Soren- your own experience shines through and adds realism and emotion to these scenes.



I just love the personality you give Burd through those tiny gestures and expressions.

Posted by: SubRosa Sep 21 2010, 09:37 PM

My blade slipped beneath his pauldron and bit into flesh.
But Oblivion does not have pauldrons! (much to the disappointment of many Morrowind players).

The entire piece flows very smoothly, testament to a perfect pace throughout. You keep it exciting as again you show us the same old endgame to a sigil stone run, only once more through new eyes. Julian shows that she is at the top of her game to be certain. Not only does she live up to what her old form what must have been, but the old dog pulls out her new tricks as well. I do not think the old Julian would have survived that one.

Finally, the icing on the cake is Julian's observation at the end that the actual environment is physically harming them, either from frostbite or burns. An excellent bit of added depth to the Deadlands.


nits:
In the fight with the summons and conjurer, the summons knocks Julian down. Then it seems to vanish as Julian has plenty of time to stand back up, chase down, and kill the conjurer, all while it does nothing. Perhaps you should add in a sentence saying that Burd is engaging it? That brings me to my only other nit. Julian takes on all three dremora while Burd and the others seem to be standing around with their fingers up their english ships. Perhaps you should give them a more active role?

Posted by: Destri Melarg Sep 22 2010, 01:41 AM

I think you should keep the word ‘turbid’, especially after encountering it again in this chapter. It sounds very ‘Julian’ to me. The point that I was making is that, even though the figures before her had been obscured to the point of being little more than silhouettes, Julian’s aim is still assured and true. That seems like it would be very hard to achieve, especially for one who is not a master with the bow.

Onto this chapter:
What can I say that hasn’t already been said? I had to pause for several minutes after reading this to catch my own breath! The fight with the Dremora was fantastic. I remember a while ago I told you that Julian’s fights seemed too easy. You remedied that in Fort Grief, and it certainly wasn’t the case here! When that battleaxe hit home I almost fell out of my chair. Is there any mithril mixed into that mail of hers?

I caught her praying to Akatosh twice during this chapter. It appears that Martin’s talk with her was taken to heart, and she has accepted the Dragon as her patron.

And someone please teach Soren how to duck!


You have a small repetition here.

Posted by: mALX Sep 22 2010, 03:39 AM

I think bringing the noise of the sigil keep up as cover and using a bow was brilliant, the loud twang would be suffocated in the sound of that roaring fire - brilliant !!!!

The idea of making a chain by holding hands - I love that too, when she takes the stone and the chains break away from that floating platform they can pull her back to safety - huge idea !!!

Another great chapter! Julian is def hero material !!!

Posted by: Remko Sep 22 2010, 11:15 AM

The part where Julian heals Soren was really, really powerful. That part really stood out for me. I could almost see the surprised look on the poor guy's face after the (highly effective) slap.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Sep 23 2010, 04:48 PM

@D. Foxy: Warrior prose. Is that like cowboy poetry? All the reading I’ve done of military history (including the battle reports of Little Cloud Top) has paid off, I guess. Thanks for the compliment!

@Acadian: I’m glad that you enjoyed it, and felt that battle with the mage and summoned Dremora. IMHO, this is the event that starts Julian on the path of becoming a Conjurer. Kind of like the arms race - she’ll keep improving her Conjuration skillz so she can summon more and more powerful creatures.

@hazmick: Maybe Haa-Rei can use the last two chapters as a primer on how to survive in the Deadlands!

@trey: If I can get you to stop thinking “Oh, great, another stupid Gate” I’ve done my task! As for Burd, well, in my imagination he’s a lot more fun to interact with than he is in the game. I’ve tried to convey the Burd that inhabits my imagination rather than the in-game Burd. It sounds like I’ve succeeded.

@SubRosa: I think you’re right, the old Julian with her vanilla Legion training and vanilla Legion gear would not have survived this. The new Julian, having been forced to learn how to survive on her own, has enchanted gear and a few spells up her sleeve to even the odds a bit more. I’ve added a couple of sentences to address your nit. I wanted to capture the intensity of the battle and the tunnel vision Julian had in focusing solely on the mage, leaving the other Dremora and the summons to the guardsmen.

@Destri: Maybe I'm odd, but I got the hang of the bow really quickly and was able to adjust and compensate for distance, crappy arrows, etc while still in the tutorial dungeon. I guess it comes from backyard target practice with my dad when I was a kid. He always called me Deadeye because I got better groupings on that paper plate than he did! Matius’s mail is enchanted, and that helped protect Julian so that all she got from that battleaxe was a few broken ribs. It could be that there is mithril mixed in, but I like to think her survival is due largely to gra-Sharob’s skillz. As for praying to Akatosh, well, he has always been her patron during her years in the Legion; but recent experiences have taken this to a whole new level with which she is still coming to terms.

@mALX: Thanks!

@Remko: I’m happy to see that my descriptions of healing still stand out. Those are the parts that come relatively easy for me and are almost boring to write. My problem is to keep them from sounding like dry medical records!

Julian brings her companions safely back to good old Nirn.

****************
Chapter 16.5 Return to Bruma

Our return was anticlimactic. We found ourselves standing in the remains of the Oblivion Gate, breathing the clean, clear mountain air. I smiled in relief at the three men who accompanied me. They released my arm, looking around in wonder. Then shouting and cheering reached us from the barricades.

Bor and Soren looked at Burd, then at me.

“You’re done,” I said hoarsely. “I’m not in charge anymore. Congratulations for a job well done.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Bor responded, his voice equally harsh, swinging his battered sword in front of his face in salute. Soren nodded at me. He still looks shaky.

“Bor, Soren, return to the barracks. You’ve earned the rest of the day off.” Burd ordered, but his frostbitten face was smiling too.

“Sir!” the two men responded before turning and heading back, Bor matching his stride to Soren’s slower pace. Before they reached the barricades, the other young men had swarmed them, hoisting them to their shoulders, cheering. They moved en masse towards the East Gate. Only two men remained by the barricades, watching Burd and I.

“Well, Julian,” the tall Nord turned to look down at me. “It was an honor to serve with you, ma’am. Now that we’ve seen how it’s done, I think we can do it ourselves should any more open.”

“The honor was mine, Captain,” I answered, meeting his gaze. “You’ve been as fine an officer as I’ve ever had in the Legion.” Burd raised his brows at me as he started for the barricades.

“Well, thanks, but you did a lot for our morale in there,” he remarked quietly. “I’ve never seen Bor and Soren so resolute.” He laughed and clapped my shoulder, almost unbalancing me once again. “They didn’t want to be left behind by a little woman! Gods know I didn’t!”

Little? Me? I stood eye to eye with most male Redguards and Argonians. Rather, it’s you that’s tall, sir. I kept those words to myself, but couldn’t hide the smile they triggered.

“You did it, Captain!” Senarel drew up before Burd. “You closed the Oblivion Gate! We thought we’d never see you again!”

“How long were we in there?” Burd asked suddenly, glancing up at the sky. I understood his confusion, for the sun stood only slightly west of its previous position, when we left Nirn.

“I’d say about twenty-four hours or so, sir,” I remarked as Brugels halted beside Senarel, his gaze on me. Together the four of us resumed walking towards the barricades and the East Gate beyond.

“She’s right, sir,” Senarel said. “You’ve been gone twenty-five hours.”

“An entire day!” Burd exclaimed. “No wonder I feel so tired!” He turned back to Senarel. “Set a double watch on the walls. We need to watch in case another one opens. Everyone who stood on the barricades gets the rest of the day off.” He turned to me and winked. “And that includes me, Julian. Why don’t you stay in our barracks? You can rest before climbing that long hill back to Cloud Ruler Temple.” He jerked his chin past the city walls, in the direction of the mountaintop fortress. “They can see the news from there.”

“Actually, sir,” I had not been looking forward to the climb, either. “I have a bed at the Mages Guild. I think I’ll rest up there.”

“All right, then,” the tall Nord nodded as we filtered through the barricades. “Do me a favor, Julian,” he glanced at me as we trudged towards the tall gateway leading into the city. “Stop by the barracks in the morning, after breakfast. I’d like to debrief Bor and Soren in front of the entire Guard, so they can understand what we are in for, and each one of them can close a Gate.” He slid a sidelong glance at me. “You know how young men are, I’d like you to keep them honest.”

Right, no tall tales. “Gladly, Captain,” I answered.

Within the city walls, Burd faltered in his stride to look at me. “Explain something to me,” he said. “Bor said it was cold in there, I felt it too. But Soren kept complaining about the heat, and I can see that both he and you are burned. Why is that?”

“The Deadlands are just that, lands of the dead,” I answered. “As best as I can explain it, the Deadlands are different things to different cultures.” I paused, thinking over my next words. “Captain, what happens to your soul after you die?”

Burd lifted his brows at me. “I never thought much about it,” he commented. “But I was raised on stories of Aetherius and Oblivion, and Oblivion is -” his voice trailed off.

“For Nords from Skyrim, and I believe the Wrothgarian Orcs, too, Oblivion is bitterly cold, cold enough to shatter your very bones,” I filled in. “For other cultures, Oblivion is hot, hotter than the smith’s furnace. We each brought our own versions of Oblivion with us, and that is what the Deadlands gave us.”

Burd suppressed a shudder. “That’s too much for me,” he complained. “But it makes sense in a weird sort of way.” He paused beside the statue of Tiber Septim. “Well, see you in the morning, Julian.”

***********************
I looked up at the gates of Cloud Ruler Temple. They were open again, but I could see two figures up in the watch towers, instead of the usual one. I waved up at them, and they returned my greeting. I entered the gates and started up the long stairway.

My stay at the Mages Guild had been restful. Orania had somehow put a damper on Volanaro and J’skar’s youthful pranks to give me much needed peace and quiet. I had asked Volanaro for a new summon spell stronger than Old Bones. He had gladly complied, teaching me how to call a flame atronach, the voluptuous daedra made of fire. This morning, as I had promised, I headed up to the barracks to listen to Bor and Soren, now recovered from their ordeal, recount their adventure.

Bor had the typical Nordic tendency to exaggerate, but he would glance over at me whenever he seemed to feel the temptation, and had kept his story strictly factual. Captain Burd had said little, only stood at the back of the room with his arms crossed.

The answers the young guards provided to questions flung at them by their colleagues revealed to me just how much they had understood, or failed to understand, the dangers of the Deadlands. From time to time I found myself clarifying the young men’s responses, or adding more information.

The whole process had taken up the entire morning, and when the young Guards had finally filtered out to take up their watches, Captain Burd had invited me to stay for lunch with him and Senarel. I had been all too happy to stoke my ravenous appetite before returning to Cloud Ruler.

“Julian,” Roliand greeted me when I reached the plaza. “Good job on that Gate, ma’am.”

“Oh, it was all Bor and Soren,” I answered. “And Captain Burd’s not too shabby with that big claymore of his.” Shaking my head, I caught the glimmer of a grin on Roliand’s face. “A little slow, but pretty unstoppable once he got going, like most Nords,” I grinned back.

The tall Nord’s grin flashed as he turned and continued his patrol, his chuckles drifting back to me. My smile faded when I recognized Captain Steffan’s slightly more ornate armor walking towards me. Taking a step forward to stop in front of him, I met his blue gaze.

“Captain, sir,” I coughed the nervousness I felt from my voice. “I apologize for the other day.”

The Imperial, himself almost as tall as Roliand, looked down at me, his black brows drawing down over his blue gaze.

“Apologize?” he repeated. “For what, Julian?”

“For overstepping my bounds, sir,” I answered. “I sent Ferrum for Grandmaster Jauffre instead of waiting for your command, sir.”

Steffan rocked back on his heels slightly, raising his eyes to the surrounding mountains. “Oh, that,” he mused. He shook his head, looking back down at me. “You were pilus prior for how long, Julian?”

“Seven years, sir,” I answered.

“The job of a good centurion,” Steffan’s expression remained austere, his blue eyes unwavering, “is to anticipate the needs of his commanding officer. In that moment you speak of, you were being my centurion.” Again he shook his head. “You did not overstep your bounds then, Julian. You were being a good pilus. I appreciated that, though I apparently did a poor job of showing it.” Now his smile flashed white in the shadows of his helm.

“Excuse me, Captain,” my inhalation came slowly against the relief I felt, “I’m still learning my place here in the Blades.”

“If you overstep your bounds,” Steffan’s gaze grew serious again, “believe me, you’ll know.”

“I’d prefer to know before I do so, sir.” I muttered, looking at the flagstones. Captain Steffan clapped my shoulder, not quite as heartily as Burd, but enough to bring my head up again.

“Just be as you were in the Legion, and you’ll be fine, Julian.”

Stepping back to let Captain Steffan continue his rounds, I nodded. “Then that’s just what I will do, sir.” He smiled at me and resumed his walk.

Posted by: SubRosa Sep 23 2010, 05:07 PM

“They didn’t want to be left behind by a little woman! Gods know I didn’t!”
Indeed, the shame would be unbearable to the fragile male psyche!

A nice, restful break from the headlong pace of the last few segments. We have time to take stock of events, and Julian starts to feel more at home as a Blade.

Did I detect a bit of an advance on the part of Burd when he suggested that Julian stay in the barracks? I suspect he had a bed she could sleep in!

Posted by: mALX Sep 23 2010, 06:18 PM

WOOO HOOO !!!! Burd wanting Julian to sleep in the barracks? Now we're talkin' !!!!!

Posted by: Acadian Sep 23 2010, 06:57 PM

Very well done.

Regarding Burd, here is what I got- He likes and respects Julian, and I expect that feeling is mutual. It is completely unclear to me as to whether that could grow into something more personal. Inviting her to the barracks was not a sexual inneuendo. If you have ever been in a guard barracks, that is the last place one would invite a love interest. No, I suspect his motives are much more straightforward, just as he outlined to Julian. She was indeed extremely valuable to have in that debriefing to add her credibility and 'truth-keeping', allowing him to stand back as a captain should. I see him as quite the leader indeed. He realizes the value of training more soldiers who are capable of closing those gates. He cares about his people and recognizes the leadership and wisdom displayed by our Julian.

It is wonderful to see Julian becoming more comfortable with her role helping the guard force as well as being a sister in the Blades.

Posted by: treydog Sep 23 2010, 08:20 PM

Things to like:

Well, the whole post, actually. But specifically-

The fact that the other guards actually demonstrate that they are happy the Gate is closed AND that their comrades are back safe.

Rant/ (How hard would it have been to set a 0/1 counter as to whether a Gate near a city is closed and to provide dialogue options for the inhabitants based on the counter?) That would beat the stuffing out of “I saw a mudcrab today.” rant/

The idea of a personal sort of Deadland, dependant on the individual’s beliefs.

Captain Burd. Everything about him speaks of your careful crafting- he is not just “random City guard officer, one each." He earns Julian’s respect, just as she earns his. And he proves himself again when he does not simply walk away from the closed Gate, but makes sure his entire force knows what to expect.

Julian getting in touch with her magical side- a wise choice.

Captain Steffan's wisdom and Julian’s dawning awareness that she is a valued member of a military organization again.

Posted by: mALX Sep 23 2010, 08:34 PM

I know it, it didn't have any innuendo - but lets face it, Julian is beautiful and roaming the country all this time in the company of men - and not getting any action. Of all the people she has met so far, I think Burd should be at the top of the list of candidates for the position.

I personally know for a fact that Hauty can write a love scene without lemons, in perfect taste, etc. - so this isn't saying we saw innuendo in Burd's invitation, it is saying we are hinting to see innuendo in Burd's invitation !!!! WOOOOOOOOT !!!

Posted by: Destri Melarg Sep 23 2010, 11:58 PM

At first I was a bit fuzzy about the whole Nord/cold, Redguard/hot Oblivion experience. It seems like it would be just the opposite, especially if what we fear is the unknown and Oblivion is looked upon as the manifestation of the unknown. After all, Nords know what cold feels like, and they have even developed a resistance to it. Redguards spend their whole life in the Alik’r experiencing temperatures that border on the insane. As I thought about it though, I realized that Oblivion isn’t the manifestation of the unknown, and what Julian was saying was that it is because of their familiarity that they would carry those particular concepts of Oblivion beyond those gates with them. Profound stuff when you stop to analyze it (as I have now done to an alarming degree! ). Suffice it to say that I echo Burd’s sentiment:

Julian characteristically deflects all credit onto Bor and Soren when Roliand greets her at the gate to Cloud Ruler. Now, correct me if I am wrong, but to my recollection Soren spent most of his time in the sigil keep trying to see how much lightning he could conduct! Okay, I know that Bor shot two scamps, but I doubt he was of more real use than Paint was in the Deadlands! Don’t worry. Like Julian, I will keep their secret and let them bask in the glory. I’m sure it will make them very popular at Olav’s later.

Oh, and I think you’re going to have to get Julian sexed-up soon if only to keep your devoted readers from chewing on the furniture!

Posted by: mALX Sep 24 2010, 12:02 AM

SPEW !!!!! ROFL !!!!!

Posted by: Remko Sep 24 2010, 10:49 AM

I really enjoyed the briefing, and the desired presence of Julian to keep the young man from bragging the true events out of proportion.

Something is confusing me though. If Oblivion is everyone's personal hell, I'd say it would just be the opposite to what they're used to and more or less comfortable with.
Something I have been wondering about myself; what if you don't want to go heaven? Then what is your hell?

Anyway; the point I am trying to make is: wouldn't a Nord's hell be the scorching heat like Julian encounters? And for Redguards who are accustomed to heat, wouldn't their hell be the bitter cold of Skyrim?

Posted by: treydog Sep 24 2010, 12:11 PM

Per Britannica:

Posted by: haute ecole rider Sep 24 2010, 03:51 PM

I just had a feeling about this . . .

As for the representation of hell, it is very culture dependent. In cultures that live in cold climes, hell is presented as freezing, bone-cracking cold. In hot desert cultures, it is burning, scorching heat that shrivels everything into ash.

I look at it this way - hell is the worst thing you can imagine. If you're an Eskimo or reindeer herder living north of the Arctic Circle, what is the worst thing you can imagine, based on your experiences? Freezing to death of exposure. Alternatively, heaven is a cozy igloo/tent with a warm fire, cooking blubber/reindeer, because warmth means life. Eskimos and reindeer herders have no experience of the dry scorching heat desert dwellers experience. The warmest temperatures they experience is a (relatively) balmy 50 degrees during a two-week period in high summer. Is that uncomfortable for them? Not.

Desert dwellers likewise have no experience of cold or snow. The worst they may experience is a damp rainy evening with temps (again relative) a cool 50's or possibly the 40's. Is that even uncomfortable for them? But they are very familiar with the discomfort of 100+ degree temps, dry air that literally suck the very moisture from your lungs, and death by heat prostration. Easy to visualize hell as an exaggerated version of this.

What is hell for tropical jungle dwellers? I'm not sure, but I wouldn't be surprised if it was being choked to death by vigorous liana vines while monstrous creatures chew on your fingers, toes and bowels while you are still alive. Or maybe it's a slow death from poison (plant or animal venom). Or being eaten alive by fire ants.

My point is, cultural concepts of hell are based on the worst experiences that culture's environment has to offer.

Posted by: hazmick Sep 24 2010, 04:58 PM

Burd and Julian! go on, indulge your readers! lol.

A good explanation of the deadlands, Haa-Rei's first visit was fine---Spent a few minutes in the Kvatch gate to collect new ingredients and then left without destroying it.

A brilliant return to Nirn for our heroine, those 25 hours flew past, more please! (Definately more of Burd and Julian )

Posted by: haute ecole rider Sep 25 2010, 03:29 PM

@SubRosa and mALX: Boy, you chicks sure are itchin’ for some romance (or at least some lust)! Don’t you know Julian’s gotta save Nirn first??

@Acadian: Your paladin past shows in your assessment of Burd’s offer of a barracks cot (chicks, read a narrow mattress barely wide enough for a skinny Redguard!). Julian also knows what a barracks is for - after all, she slept in one (when not sleeping in a tent) for twenty years!

@treydoggie: I agree that the “I saw a mudcrab today” is so infuriating when they are standing in front of a screaming Oblivion Gate! How about “I saw a scamp today”????

@Destri: Your comments about Bor and Soren made me laugh out loud! Remember I left out a bit of the lesson (the part from the first set of the fire towers outside to the sigil keep). Trust me that Bor and Soren did get some combat experience in during that part (under Julian’s tutelage, of course), and Burd got to do more with that claymore than stand there looking heroic. As for Julian’s fans chewing on the furniture, better theirs than mine!

@Remko: I’ve listened to enough young men (and women) to know when to take their tales with a grain of salt. I hope I have answered your confusion regarding the Deadlands.

@hazmick: et tu, hazmick? I’m glad to hear Haa-Rei survived his first visit to the Deadlands just fine. They are great for popping in to get ingredients, but it is possible to find ingredients around the gates themselves (like the Chorrol Gate), even after they are closed by the end of the MQ.

So Burd seems to be everyone’s favorite for Julian’s love interest? And I thought he already had a thing going on with Yvara Channitte?

This time, Julian gets not one, but two tasks to carry out. And the one task is going to take a looooong time!

***********************
Chapter 16.6 Two New Assignments

Heading to the Great Hall, I saw Caroline at the sentry post. “Good afternoon, ma’am,” she greeted me.

“Good afternoon, Caroline,” I responded. “Do you know where Grandmaster Jauffre is?”

“Inside, ma’am,” she answered, “in the Great Hall, I think.”

Caroline was right. I discovered Jauffre seated at Martin’s study table, evidently explaining something to the heir apparent. Martin, who faced the front of the Hall, recognized me and waved for me to join them. Jauffre spun on the bench to look at me, then gestured for me to sit next to him.

“Good work, Julian,” he said as I set my bow and katana to one side and joined him on the bench. “I understand Captain Burd feels confident that his guardsmen can handle any new Gates.”

“I think so, sir,” I responded. “As long as they don’t go charging in there waving their swords.” Jauffre spluttered klah into his hand.

“That’s how they do it in the Legion, isn’t it?” he asked when he had cleared his throat. I slid him a sidelong glance.

“Yes, sir, and that didn’t get Savlian Matius and his men anywhere,” I remarked. Jauffre’s good humor dissolved at the reminder. “I’ve had to unlearn a lot of things when I went into that first Gate.”

“Actually, Julian,” Jauffre poured some klah from the steaming pot into a cup that Belisarius brought to the study table and pushed the mug at me. “That’s how the foresters operate. They’re typically on their own, and they use stealth as their primary weapon.” He nodded for me to drink the klah. “They know how to assess their environment and utilize cover as much as possible.”

“But the riders also work alone, too,” Martin had been listening intently to Jauffre. The Grandmaster nodded agreement.

“The job of the riders is to draw trouble to themselves,” he clarified. “But the job of the foresters is to find trouble and nip it in the bud.” The Grandmaster glanced at me. “I’m certain you’ll agree that the foresters are the most underrated, underestimated and underutilized soldiers in the Legion.”

I nodded, thinking of Kaeso Marsias. “Those daedra are quite nasty. I’d rather stick with wolves, bears, and minotaurs, thank you.” His voice echoed in my mind. “Yes, they are on their own for much of their assignment as foresters, sir,” I agreed. “They have to survive solely by their wits.” I glanced over at Martin. “I’ve only met a couple, and they tend to be loners.”

“They have to be,” Jauffre confirmed. “And most Blades, as well,” he continued. I glanced at him, startled. “Yes, most of the Blades work alone,” he smiled at my confusion. “What you see here are but a small fraction. What Captain Steffan and his garrison do here is maintain the visible headquarters of the Blades, but the bulk of our ranks are scattered far and wide.”

“Right, you’ve got an agent in every city and town, sir,” I muttered into the steaming klah.

“Aye, that we do,” Jauffre nodded emphatically. “They keep their ears to the ground, and listen and watch for any threat to the Emperor, be it from a skooma addict in Bravil,” here he locked gazes with me - did I ever speak ill of the Emperor when I was out of it? flashed through my mind - “to the highest ranking noble on the Elder Council.”

I set the cup down carefully on the table. “And where did I fall in that spectrum of threats, sir?” I wondered aloud, suddenly anxious.

“Nowhere,” Jauffre assured me with a crooked smile. “You were just a skooma addict with a propensity for getting into fights with any one who dared slur the Legion.” Now he gripped my shoulder. “That’s why I trusted you to find Martin. As sick and unwell as you were, you managed to get the Amulet to me safely. I knew you wouldn’t take unnecessary risks. Besides, you were the most clear-eyed soldier I ever met, and believe me, just about everyone in the Blades is clear-eyed.” He nodded at the impassive Blade behind Martin. “And when Baurus’s report reached my desk, I knew as long as you had a purpose, you would remain sober.”

“Is that why you kept giving me missions, sir?” I asked, reeling inside from Jauffre’s words.

“Ach, I don’t think that reason applies anymore,” Jauffre responded. “You’ve managed to accomplish so much more than the missions you’ve been assigned. Joining the Mages Guild shows that you are capable of constructing an effective cover. Helping Marc Atellus at Sercen, clearing Kvatch of daedra, reporting to Viera Lerus when she requested it of you, those indicate you have a strong sense of loyalty, which can be easily transferred to the Blades, and ultimately, your Emperor.” His eyes twinkled when he caught my stare. “And your assistance to Jeelius, to the poor townsfolk of Aleswell, to a grieving widow in Bravil, is only proof of your dedication to the tenets of the Nine.”

“Huh,” my tone was muted, while my head spun. I could feel the heat in my cheeks, the heat of embarrassment. Embarrassment of a different kind.

“And in spite of all the little side trips and investigations you’ve undertaken,” Jauffre continued, rubbing things in a little more, “you’ve remained steadfast to Martin’s cause.” He straightened up, setting his fists on the table and meeting Martin’s gaze. “Now Martin and I have been discussing the situation at Bruma. They can not hold off these Gates forever. Losses are inevitable, and they are few against the hordes of Oblivion.”

I thought about the situation as he described it. “Neither can the Blades,” I volunteered. “As much as Baurus would like to think otherwise.” I met Jauffre’s gaze. “What should we do, sir?”

“Go to the other cities, speak to the Counts and Countesses, and ask them to send some of their garrisons to Bruma.” His eyes were steady on mine.

Wait a minute.

“Wh - who m- me?” I stammered. “I’m just a centurion, I don’t know how to talk to Counts and Countesses, sir.”

“Just talk to them as if they are the legates in your Legion,” Martin volunteered, smiling at my discomfiture. The smile faded from his face as he considered me. “You’re courteous enough to avoid offense, Julian, and modest enough to avoid distrust.”

“It will take you a long time to accomplish all this,” Jauffre added. “But the more we can reinforce the garrison here at Bruma, the easier it will be to hold off the daedra until Martin can complete his research in that evil book.”

“Of course, you can say no,” Martin glanced at Jauffre. “After all, I’ve made some progress in the Xarxes, and have need of your services yet again.”

“Those are your orders, Grandmaster?” I asked Jauffre. “To gather aid for Bruma?”

“Not orders,” he replied. “Rather, a request.” He nodded at Martin. “The Emperor’s needs are greater.”

“If Bruma is to be the focus of the Oblivion invasion, Sire, sir,” I said, glancing from one to the other, “then we must not let them gain a foothold here. Once they open that Great Gate, and that siege crawler comes through, Bruma is lost, as was Kvatch.” I looked down at the cooling klah in my mug. “After that, all the other cities will fall. Cyrodiil must unite here, at Bruma. Piecemeal, it will die.”

There was silence for several moments. “That was very well said, Julian,” Martin’s voice slipped through the quiet air. “Be sure to tell the Counts and Countesses that.”

I looked up to see Martin’s respectful gaze on me. I shifted uneasily. “You said you made some progress on the Xarxes, Sire?”

“Yes, I have, Julian,” his face brightened. “The second item needed to open the portal to Paradise is the counterpart to the first - the blood of a Divine.” He smiled at the scowl I sent him. “Yes, that puzzled me at first, too. The Divines leave no artifacts like the Daedric Princes do. So how? Jauffre solved it.” My right eyebrow rose as I shot a glance at Jauffre, who was intently studying the cover of a small volume on the table in front of him.

“He told me of Tiber Septim,” Martin’ soft tone drew my attention back to him, “who shed blood for the Blades long before he became one of the Divines. It is a secret known only to the Blades, and has been handed down for years.”

“I really wish there was another way,” Jauffre commented, his gaze still on the little book. “The armor of Tiber Septim is in his shrine, deep in the heart of Sancre Tor.”

Sancre Tor? Where did I hear that name before? “Then there’s Sancre Tor - That place’s haunted!” Brugels that first day I was in Bruma. I also recalled a tidbit of ancient history from my years in the Legion: it had once been a city which had been captured by High Rock and Skyrim forces; Tiber Septim had taken it back, well over four hundred years ago.

“The shrine of Tiber Septim is there?” I asked, wondering why it was not better known.

“Tiber Septim gave the Blades his bloodstained armor in honor of our service in the victory at Sancre Tor. The Blades built a shrine around it, known only to ourselves.” Jauffre sighed. “But evil overtook the place.”

“What evil?” Shivers passed up my spine, and I could feel the hairs rise on the back of my neck. Jauffre shook his head.

“I do not know,” he replied, his voice that of an old man’s. “The first and greatest of the Blades, Alain, Valdemar, Rielus, and Casnar, went there to drive it out, but they never returned. The first Grandmaster then sealed the catacombs.” He picked a long steel object up from the table and handed it to me. “Here is the key to Sancre Tor. I fear I am sending you to your death, but there is no other recourse. We must obtain the blood of a Divine.”

“Where is Sancre Tor?” I asked. If it is going to be so dangerous, I’d better get as many reinforcements for Bruma as possible before I go there.

“It is on the unmarked road that runs through the Jeralls, from west of Bruma, through the mountains, down to the Northgate at Chorrol,” Jauffre answered. “Sancre Tor is the biggest ruin on that road, in the style of the Imperial forts.”

My elbows on the table, I studied the ring of klah in the bottom of my mug, and considered the options. Go to Cheydinhal first, then loop south to Leyawiin. Stop at Bravil, head over to Skingrad. Anvil beyond that, and check in with Matius at Kvatch - maybe he will lend help. Then on up to Chorrol. After that, Sancre Tor. That will take time, maybe as much as several weeks. The roads are getting worse. Cross-country is not likely to be much better. I’ll need Paint.

“All right, Sire,” I said finally, looking up at Martin. “I’d best see about getting reinforcements for Bruma first,” I sensed Jauffre’s easing at my side, but kept my gaze steady on Martin’s hazel eyes. “Then I’ll go to Sancre Tor before I come back here.” I shook my head. “It’s going to take me a while.”

“I understand,” Martin answered. “Things are urgent, but you must do what you need to do.”

Posted by: hazmick Sep 25 2010, 03:56 PM

Si, Si. . Julian is formulating a plan that will take her on a full circuit of Cyrodiil! I can't wait to see what little adventures she will find on her trip!

Make sure she doesn't start the quest involving Ulrich Leyland in Cheydinhal, his 'Essentiality' is quite handy for the up-coming battle.

Posted by: SubRosa Sep 25 2010, 05:48 PM

I would not say Burd is my favorite for a love interest for Julian. I would go with Selena Orania for that I think. (I am saving Nerussa for Teresa!) Still, anything at this point would be good.

I must say, the real gem here is Jauffre's assessment of Julian and the revelation of how much he knew about her before he even met her. This all makes him sending her out to find Martin much more believable. At the same time it adds much more to his own character. Here we see him as very much the fat spider sitting in the midst of a web.

The first and greatest of the Blades, Alain, Valdemar, Rielus, and Casnar, went there to drive it out, but they never returned.
Hmmm, I think I have heard of those guys from somewhere else...


nits:
Yes, they are on their own for much of their assignation
The word assignation often means a secret, sexual encounter. Perhaps assignment would be better?

Posted by: mALX Sep 25 2010, 06:37 PM

Or the Countess, they could lay the relics on the floor and roll in them. I like that little Redguard girl that paints too, she is very sweet if you don't turn her in, and she could do a portrait of Julian. What about Caroline in CRT?

Burd is good, or maybe that nice Cirroc - OH! Martin could succumb to her beauty and allure one night...



AHA !!! So she is having an encounter !!!!!




...Save Nirn FIRST????? No way, in the heat and adrenalin after battles people always give in to temptation !!!!


PS: SANCRE TOR !!!!!!!! WOOOOOOOOOT !!!!!

Posted by: treydog Sep 25 2010, 07:59 PM

Many hooks are set in this episode- aid for Bruma, Sancre Tor, etc.

Some of my favorite moments are when Jauffre reveals the depth of his knowledge about Julian and the foreshadowing of the guardians of Sancre Tor.

This was an excellent bit of writing, as we see the symbolism of Julian "but I'm just a centurion!" sitting with the Emperor and the Grandmaster. It is ironic that she can protest that she doesn't know how to deal with nobles while sharing a companionable table with the Emperor. Of course, Martin was not raised as a noble, so he is more "comfortable."

Posted by: Acadian Sep 26 2010, 01:55 AM

Some nice insights and, it seems, somewhat of a road map indicating Julian's intermediate plans.

I also enjoyed Jauffre's assessment of Julian.

I quite liked your analysis of Legion Foresters and Riders and their strengths/roles. I agree with your observations here.

As you said, gathering allies will take a very long time - especially with Julian's propensity to stop and help folks along the way. I was delighted to hear that she still considers Kvatch a valid city - at least in some ways. Yay Julian!

I am hoping to hear some of her observations on the various courts of Cyrodiil.

Posted by: Destri Melarg Sep 26 2010, 10:51 AM

Jauffre continues to play his role well within your story, and I continue to despise him for it. Just once I would like to see Martin 'go Septim' on him and smack him like he was his daddy! That said, Jauffre's knowledge of Julian’s character and activities before she was thrown into the dungeons gives much needed logic to his decision to trust her with what has to be one of the most vital missions of the Third Era. I’m sure that, as the story progresses, we will learn that he secretly dispatched an entire company (or maybe a century) of Blades to secure the heir in the event that Julian failed. They were probably playing dice down in the camp while Julian was in Oblivion closing the gate.

As much as it pains me to say it, I agree with his choice of sending Julian to panhandle for troops up and down Cyrodiil. If nothing else, his intelligence (the network I mean) has given him ample evidence of Julian’s innate ability to sow trust wherever she goes. I would weep for Bruma if this were a task he decided to handle personally. I doubt he would be successful at anything other than blackmailing the Count of Bravil into sending Viera Lerus to Bruma.

Ask Julian to tell the boys that Destri says hi when she sees them.

Posted by: D.Foxy Sep 26 2010, 02:29 PM

I'll turn all French and say this: Sancre Tor = Sacre Bleu!!!

Posted by: Cardboard Box Sep 26 2010, 11:14 PM

And 181,533 words later, Julian's off to bang heads with the Knights of Ni the Thorn as part of her grand tour. And end up dealing with Mazoga, And knocking some sense into Count whatsisface of Bravil. And... well, should be fun.

Any chance she might visit Cropsford on the way?

Posted by: haute ecole rider Sep 27 2010, 03:03 PM

@hazmick: Don’t worry - we will get the benefit of Ulrich’s sharp sword and equally sharp tongue before she investigates him in Cheydinhal.

@SubRosa: Settle down! It’ll be a long wait for that love interest! As for Jauffre as the fat spider, that is EXACTLY how I’ve pictured him all along.

@mALX: You need to take a cold shower, too!

@treydoggie: Your catch of the symbolism of Julian sitting with the Emperor and Grandmaster made me laugh. You’re right about the irony of that scene!

@Acadian: I think you will find her experiences interesting as Julian proceeds through her Grand Tour of Cyrodiil. And yes, she’ll stop and help a few folks along the way!

@Destri: If Julian ever finds out there were a cohort of Blades playing dice in the Kvatch camp while Matius was holding the barricades and she was closing the gates, there’d be Oblivion to pay! I will be sure Julian passes on the message before she hightails it out of Sancre Tor!

@Foxy: Sorry, don’t speak French myself. But I’ll assume it’s a warning and take it accordingly!

@Boxee: I think you described upcoming chapters quite well. BTW, have you been counting??

On the way to Cheydinhal, Julian checks out that overgrown path leading off the Blue Road. This is one of the shortest chapters I’ve ever written, only two segments. But once more, this is one of those things where I thought it would be just a little scene, and the NPC ends up monopolizing an entire chapter.

*******************
Chapter 17.1 Finding Jenseric

Paint tossed his head and pawed at the ground. Absent-mindedly patting his neck, I studied the overgrown path leading north of the Blue Road. Time to walk down that path, see if Roland Jenseric is at the other end of it. I reined Paint off the cobblestoned road and through the rundown gateway. His hoofbeats thumped softly on the hard-packed dirt that wound north, up into the forest blanketing the foothills of the Jeralls.

By the time I began to wonder if I had been misled, I spotted the squat form of a cabin through the branches ahead. The trees opened out into a meadow. A well with a bucket perched on its rim stood before the cabin. Water. Time for Paint to have some water. We had been traveling all day, and it was getting late in the afternoon. The westering sun sent golden beams between the trunks of the trees. The shafts of light picked out the shingled roof of the cabin, the profusion of azalea and roses around the door, and the small windows in the front wall, shutters thrown wide open. No smoke rose from its stone chimney.

Dismounted, I led Paint to the well, where I dropped the bucket down the shaft. When it had filled noisily, I worked the windlass to draw it back up. The screeching of the rusty mechanism was loud in the stillness of the forest, but no life stirred from the cabin.

Paint plunged his nose into the bucket when I set it down, and I walked towards the cabin. A knock on the front door elicited no response from within, and I found the handle locked. Widdershins around the structure, I heard rattling snores from an open back window. Continuing my walk around the small cabin, I found another door in the side. This one was open, and I entered.

The interior was dim except for the sunbeams that fell through dirty windows in the front wall of the house. Where the light hit the floor, I spotted empty bottles of various sizes and shapes - beer, ale, wine, all drink. The fireplace at the opposite wall was dark and cold. I moved past the littered table, shuffling to kick bottles out of my way, and headed for the bed. The rumpled covers were empty, and the snores emanated from the far side of the bed. Past the foot of the bed, I discovered the source. He lay slumped among a litter of more bottles, and the reek coming off of him sent me reeling back. Between the breath, the vomit and his own soaked pants, the odor was vilely overpowering.

Something clicked in my mind as I looked around the filthy cabin. Of course! No wonder I don’t trust Seridur! The memory of Jenseric’s house in the City, its uncovered windows letting unfettered moonlight into its interior, crept into my mind. The open shutters here provided the same function. I compared them to Seridur’s stuffy home, lit only by smoking torches, heavy tapestries blocking out the sun. We meet only at night, Seridur’s voice. The shadows hiding his eyes. Would I see the vampire in his eyes?

Best to sober up Jenseric and talk to him about Relfina. First I’ve got to air out this place. I unlocked the front door and opened it, then moved to the side entry and threw it back. I took a few minutes to raise the filthy glass panes of the windows as well.

Paint lifted his head from the grass as I stepped outside and moved to him. “We’ll be staying here for the night,” I said, unbuckling the girth and slipping the saddle off. After I set it on a nearby fence fragment, I removed the bit from Paint’s mouth, leaving the headstall in place. Tying up the reins so he wouldn’t step on them, I left him loose. By now, I trusted him to stay close to me, or where ever I told him to stay. The meadow had plenty of good grazing, which I knew he would appreciate after days of grain and dry hay.

Back in the cabin, I found a burlap sack, and started filling it with the empty bottles. Among them, I discovered a couple of vials of skooma, now empty. Either he is hiding from himself, or he is hiding from grief, if he loved this Relfina. The sack was not large enough for all of the bottles, but fortunately I found another bag that took care of the remaining junk. I took them outside and placed them next to the outdoor privy.

Paint was grazing again when I took the water bucket and brought it inside. As I held my breath against the stench, I emptied the half-full container over the man’s head.

“Wha -” he spluttered, rolled over, and resumed snoring. With a sigh, I returned to the well and refilled the bucket. Again, I emptied it over the man. This time, he flailed at me, cursing unintelligibly. I stepped past him and threw a log onto the fireplace, then piled tinder and kindling against it. My back to his stream of swearing and his ineffectual movements, I lit the fire. Ground klah rested on the mantel. I placed some of the powder in the kettle and filled it with yet another bucketful of water from the well. Placing the klah pot over the fire to simmer, I looked at the man.

Medium brown hair waved unkempt above an unshaven face formed of regular features. He was slightly pudgy around the jaw, none of the sunken cheeks, prominent bones, and pale skin typical of long-term addiction. His unfocused eyes were hazel and bloodshot.

I pulled a chair from the table to the foot of the bed and sat down, straddling its back and crossing my arms on the top crossbar. The flailing settled down, the swearing died into grumbling, but the snoring did not return. Years of waking inebriated tironii had taught me that while I could wake a drunk up, he or she would become coherent only at his or her own pace.

The sun sank below the western horizon, and cold air seeped in through the open windows. The fire crackled merrily in the hearth, warming the air closest to the fireplace. Moonlight soon appeared at the eastern windows, along the back wall. I moved around the cabin again, lighting candles and lamps. A tousled head appeared above the edge of the bed with a groan.

“Who’re ya?” he mumbled. “How’d ya get in?”

“You left your back door unlocked, sir,” I replied, hearing the pilus prior in my voice. I picked up a battered pewter cup from the table and headed to the fire to pour the klah into it.

The Breton cringed from me when I extended the cup down towards him. After a moment, he reached out a shaking hand and accepted the offering, drawing his knees up with a shiver. Drawing the blanket off the bed, I tossed it at him so he could cover himself. Back to the chair, I sat down and waited while he fumbled the coverlet around his shoulders while trying not to spill the hot klah. He managed to keep most of the liquid inside the pewter mug, and cupped it in both hands, huddling around it. “You’re Roland Jenseric, aren’t you?” I asked, more to make sure of his identity than anything else.

He drank before looking at me where I sat. His gaze took in my mail cuirass, the katana at my left hip, the white hair on my head. Oh boy, here we go again. His next words caught me off guard. “Go ‘way!” he shouted at me, fear in his gaze. “I know wha’ ya’re here for! Leave me ‘lone!”

“What am I here for, sir?” I asked, feeling the icy calm in my tone.

“Ya’re goin’ to kill me, ain’t a?” Jenseric began shuddering violently, closing his eyes. “Gods! The headache!”

“Pipe down, Jenseric,” I said quietly. “All your shouting isn’t helping you at all. Now tell me, why should I kill you? Know anything about vampires?”

He shot me a look. “Vampires? Why woul’ ya ask me ‘bout those filthy creatures?”

“Seridur says you’re one,” I answered. The cup dropped from Jenseric’s hands as he shot up to his feet, fists clenched, the blanket falling from one shoulder.

“Tha’ filthy bas’ard!” he shouted again. “He ha’ some nerve to accuse me of bein’ a vampire! He’s tha ‘un tha’s a vampire!” His clumsy feet kicked the spilled cup into the fire and he fell back onto the bed with a groan, his hands holding his head as if it was going to explode. Probably feels like his head is splitting in two. Part of me was sympathetic to what Jenseric was likely experiencing, but the pilus prior remained foremost in my awareness.”I can’ believe him!” Jenseric moaned. “I knew he would try to pin thi’ on me!” He dropped his fists and slammed them together. “If I could only get my hands on ‘im -”

“Settle down, Jenseric,” the familiar tones of authority crept into my voice. I went to the fire and pulled the pewter cup out with the poker. Rolling it to one side to cool, I turned and picked up the blanket, tossing it at him again. “Cover yourself before you catch your death of pneumonia.” After I poured more klah into another cup and emptied a vial of restore health into it, I handed it to Jenseric and returned to my seat. “My name is Julian, of Anvil,” I introduced myself. “I was contacted by the Order of the Virtuous Blood, which is supposed to hunt vampires in the Imperial City. Seridur, who is their leader, told me you had killed Relfina as a vampire.” I held up my hand when Jenseric shot up again. “Whoa, whoa, sit down, Jenseric,” I ordered.

When he was seated again on the bed, huddled into his blanket, I continued. “But it’s obvious to me that you’re no vampire. You have no covering on your windows at your house in the City, and here I found your shutters wide open, with the sun pouring in.” After a few moments, Jenseric seemed calmer. “Now, I’d appreciate it if you would tell me what happened.”

Jenseric hung his head, hunching over the steaming mug. “I’m shorry,” he mumbled. “I’ve been hidin’ in thi’ cabin and I’ve forgot my manners.” He inhaled shakily, drinking from the cup. “Relfina was the love of my life,” his voice cracked a little, but already the potion I had put in the cup was taking effect on his speech. “She gave me a positive new look on life.” His gaze grew unfocused, as if he saw something that was not here in the cabin. “She had taken to walking in the garden at night. I became concerned when I noticed Seridur watching her with covetous eyes. If only I had trusted her - oh, Relfina!” he sobbed.

While Jenseric wept himself out, I moved around, closing the shutters and the doors against the night air, which was growing colder. Finding clean clothes in a dresser, I brought them to Jenseric, laying them on the mattress next to him. “Get out of those filthy clothes. You’ll get warm faster if you’re wearing dry clothes.” I pointed at the mug in his hands. “And drink up. I’ll wait outside. Let me know when you’ve finished, and we’ll talk some more.”

Posted by: Acadian Sep 27 2010, 03:48 PM

I'm so glad Julian's path allowed her to continue this quest!

What a picturesque scene you painted throughout.

This is just one example of many compelling descriptions that drew me right in.

As ever, I love reading (and learning) as you write Paint.

Everything flowed very naturally and at what seemed a perfect pace.

Well done!

Posted by: SubRosa Sep 27 2010, 04:32 PM

The westering sun sent golden beams between the trunks of the trees.
This was a wonderful description.

Between the breath, the vomit and his own soaked pants, the odor was vilely overpowering.
Ewwwww!

I do not envy Julian for doing this quest! Not the way you have described Jenseric's bender. It is right up there on the disgusto-meter with Olen's tale of Firen doing the same. Which is to say, well done! It sounds like you have some personal experience in cleaning up drunks.

It was not only good to see Julian come back to this, but also to see the gears finally click into place in her head concerning the windows. So now I guess the question is does she go to the Imperial City to deal with Seridur? or on to Cheydinhal to deal with the gate and allies quest there? After she hears Roland's sad tale at least.

Posted by: treydog Sep 27 2010, 09:41 PM

Hooray for Julian's excellent observation skills! (Although Athlain may not feel that way...)

There are several subtexts here- Julian's experience rousting drunken soldiers is the obvious one. But I believe there also may be a bit of inward cringing at the thought that- "There, but for the grace of Akatosh, go I." Not so long ago, Julian was the one collapsed in a drunken stupor. And she has certainly not forgotten.

I do not think it is a matter of whether she will go to deal with Seridur, only a question of when...

As always, your descriptions are vivid and immersive- which is a compliment, even when what you describe is squalid and unappealing.

Posted by: mALX Sep 28 2010, 05:55 AM

SPEW !!!! I've been laughing at this since it popped up in my email !!!! I couldn't get online then, but had to tell you - you made my day with this line !!!!




SPEW !!!!! It's...It's...Andronicus...only male !!!!!!


WOO HOO! Julian pieced together the window shades clue (something I never would have thought of looking at, BTW) - AWESOME !!!!

Posted by: Destri Melarg Sep 28 2010, 10:07 AM

I loved being taken step by step through Julian’s thought process in this chapter. By the time she wakes Jenseric we already know that she isn’t going to kill him, and that she already suspects the truth.

I also like the fact that, when presented with the path toward the cabin, Julian doesn’t hesitate to continue this quest. Given that she is currently embarked on not one, but two vital missions for the Blades, one could excuse her if she thought there were bigger fish to fry. But, thankfully, our Julian just isn’t built that way.

And, since Foxy is currently unavailable, it falls to me to tell you that Sacre Bleu is an old French profanity, meant as a cry of anger or surprise.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Sep 29 2010, 02:54 PM

@Acadian: So you liked the descriptions of Jenseric’s place? I loved the location - it’s so peaceful and quiet, an ideal vacation home. I tried to capture that.

@SubRosa: As I was writing this scene that grew into an entire short chapter, I realized that Julian was used to seeing this sort of scene from her years of dealing with raw recruits. Julian has far more experience with cleaning up hungover sots than I have, so I listened very carefully to her advice here. As for what she does after hearing Jenseric’s tale, you’ll soon find out.

@treydoggie: You’re right, there are quite a few subtexts here, and I think you picked up on most of them. Thanks for the comment about the squalid and unappealing descriptions. It’s nice to know I can get the dark side of things as well as the pretty stuff.

@mALX: I’ve been laughing every time you pounce on the merest hint of lust in perfectly innocent interactions between Julian and the men around her. She just shakes her head and smiles sheepishly. We both know who he is, and I for one enjoy keeping everyone guessing.

@Destri: thanks for the translation of Sacre Bleu. I know it’s usually uttered only under the most dire of circumstances.

Julian’s suspicions are fortified by the tale Jenseric has to tell.

*******************
Chapter 17.2 Jenseric’s Story

The door opened when I nearly finished brushing Paint down. He turned his head, tipping his ears towards the cabin, but remained relaxed, so I gave him a last swipe with the soft brush before stowing it away in my traveling bag.

Jenseric stood slumped against the door jamb. He still looked terrible, but at least he felt awake enough to shave himself and brush his hair back from his high forehead. The clean clothes made a considerable improvement in his appearance, as well.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his eyes moving from Paint, to the water bucket I had set down for him, to the saddle on the last portion of the fence still standing. “I’m not much of a host -” his voice trailed off.

“Don’t apologize for the same thing more than once, Jenseric,” I said quietly. “How’s that headache?”

“Tolerable,” Jenseric responded.

With a final pat on Paint’s back, I walked towards the Breton. “How does food sound to you?” I asked him. He shook his head. Still nauseated. It’ll be a while yet before he gets his appetite back. “All right, then let’s have another cup of klah,” I suggested.

“Oh, come in, then,” Jenseric shook himself and stumbled back inside the cabin. He picked up the pewter mug that had been in the fire, inspected it, and swished it in the half-full bucket of water sitting beside the hearth. He repeated the same with the other mug, then placed them on the table.

Noticing that his hands still shook, I motioned him to sit at the table, and picked up the klah pot. I poured slowly to minimize the grounds in the cups, then set the pot aside and drew up the chair I had been using. Seated opposite Jenseric, I poured a second vial of healing potion into his cup.

“What happened the night Relfina was killed?” I asked quietly after each of us had taken a sip of the strong klah. “You said you should have trusted her?”

Jenseric slumped over his klah. “I decided to follow her,” he spoke softly, his voice still ragged from his hangover and grief. “I saw Seridur leap from his hiding place and put his mouth to her neck. He flung her aside when he saw me, and I heard her head hit a stone with a sickening crack -” again, his voice caught, and his hands clenched on the pewter mug, the knuckles showing white. While he fought for control, I took another sip of the klah.

He looked up at me, anguish and shame in his face. “I tried to stop him, but I was no match for him - he knocked me unconscious. The last thing I remember was his sickening laugh.”

“Why didn’t you tell the Watch?” I asked him. He shook his head, wincing at the movement.

“By the time I awoke, her body was gone,” he answered. “I knew he had taken her. I panicked. So I came here to collect my thoughts.”

And drown yourself in drink and skooma, I added silently. Way to collect your thoughts. Somehow I couldn’t be judgmental - I had been in his place not so long ago. I appreciated all too well the appeal of inebriation. So Seridur is a vampire, according to Jenseric. I’ve seen evidence that indicates that Jenseric himself is not a vampire, but where is the proof for Seridur? Just because he covers his windows and hides his eyes does not make him one.

“What will you do now?” Jenseric watched me warily.

“I’ll need to talk to some people,” I answered slowly. “But first, I have errands in Cheydinhal.” I looked around the cabin. “How are you for food?”

“I’m okay for three or four days -” Jenseric’s voice trailed off.

“Well, you can’t go back to the Imperial City until I get to the bottom of this,” I told him. “If what you say about Seridur is true, he’s likely to attack you, or turn the Watch on you, if he knows you’re back in town. I’ll get you some fresh grub for another week or so when I come back this way from Cheydinhal.”

“You - you would?” Jenseric stared at me, startled. “I can go in Cheydinhal myself -”

“Better not,” I answered. “Seridur has spoken with the Imperial Watch, they are looking for you. It’s possible they have notified the Guard in the other cities, as well.”

Jenseric paled. “The Watch thinks I killed Relfina?”

Recalling Forenze’s words, I shook my head. “I think they just want to question you at this point.”

“Question me!” Jenseric exclaimed. “Beat a confession, true or false, out of me, more like!”

Maybe so, maybe not. I shrugged my shoulders. “That’s why I think you should stay here. I’ll try to get this wrapped up as quickly as possible, but it could take a couple of weeks.” Add another week or two to my Grand Circuit of Cyrodiil, I thought ironically.

I rose to my feet and picked up the bucket, carrying it outside and leaving Jenseric staring at his mug. The last of the klah tossed to the side, I rinsed the cup in the water remaining in the pail, then upended it at the base of the azalea bush. After I refilled the container, I returned to the cabin.

Jenseric looked up at me. “You know vampires can’t stand sunlight, right?” he asked me. With a nod, I found a clay tumbler and filled it with the fresh water, setting it in front of Jenseric.

“What about it?” I asked him.

“I bet you’ll never see Seridur outside during the day,” Jenseric took a gulp of the water and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Talk to Phintias at the First Edition. I doubt Gilen and Grey Throat know anything, but talk to them, too.”

“All right, I will,” I answered. I set the bucket beside the bed. “Now, you need to get some sleep. Part of the reason you feel like fresh caca right now is because you’re dehydrated. Drink that glass up, go to bed. You won’t sleep well, I assure you, but every time you wake up, have another glass of water before you go back to sleep.”

Jenseric gulped at the glass greedily. He looked up at me. “What about you, ma’am?”

“I’ve got a bedroll,” I answered. “I’ll get a fire going outside and bed down by it. Paint sleeps light,” I added firmly. “He’ll wake me up if trouble comes this way.”

“Drink water every time I wake up?” Jenseric repeated uncertainly. I nodded. “But I’ll be peeing every hour!”

“Not right away,” I answered. “You’re still dehydrated, so you won’t be making urine for a while yet.” Assuming my pilus prior persona, I shook my finger at him. “Best cure for a hangover is rest and water. Lots of both. I’ll see you in the morning, maybe you’ll be ready for some real food.” When I reached the doorway, I paused and looked back at Jenseric. “By the way, I hope you don’t mind Legion cooking. That’s all I know.”

Posted by: mALX Sep 29 2010, 03:12 PM

I see another pair of wet pants in Jenseric's future with all that water and his problem holding it !!!! I love this quest, and what you are doing with it in your story is AWESOME !!!!!

GAAAAAAAAAAAAH !!!!!!!!! ARGH !!!!!!!!!!


Now I'll be eaten up inside till I figure it out !!!!! If someone was to PM you and guess correctly, would you tell them they guessed it? ???????? ARGH !!!!

Posted by: Acadian Sep 29 2010, 03:33 PM

Very enjoyable. Grand circuit of Cyrodiil is right! I, for one, am delighted that it seems you will take your time with her grand tour. There is just so much wonderful stuff to see and do!

The interaction between Julian and Roland was great, and I enjoy how you smoothly weave dialogue with mundane actions and evocative speech tags. Very natural. Again, I am enjoying the pace, and love that Julian is not franctically racing through Cyrodiil.

Posted by: treydog Sep 29 2010, 04:18 PM

Your conversations are so smooth and natural that I lose myself in the scene... When I reached the end of this episode, I was surprised- it seemed as if no time had passed.

Julian's careful deliberation is a treat to watch- as is her willingness to help Jenseric. It would be easy to feel contempt for him- running away rather than confronting his nemesis, losing himself in drink and drugs. But- he has cause. This is a place Bethesda got it right- and you do as well. Vampires are scary and strong and crafty. What proof does Jenseric have to take to the Guard? What resources does he possess to fight a dangerous undead creature? So he reacts as many normal citizens would.

And Julian no doubt recalls when she was herself perhaps worthy of contempt, running from her problems- and someone looked deep into her soul and saw there the strength that simply needed a purpose and a direction.

For a chapter where nothing much seems to happen, Julian covers a lot of ground.

Posted by: Destri Melarg Sep 29 2010, 05:28 PM

I am glad to see that Julian recognized her own fall from grace in Jenseric, and that you allowed it to color her interaction with him. Even when the pilus was barking orders one could sense the empathy she felt for the man.

Maybe I'm wrong, but it doesn’t seem likely that Seridur would have reported Jenseric to the authorities. Habeas Corpus holds no sway in Cyrodiil (that I know of), but I imagine the Watch would still need a body in order to accuse a suspect of murder. If they brought Jenseric in for questioning, his story would be easy to confirm during daylight hours (“Please step outside for a moment, Seridur”).

I think you may have inadvertently (or advertently, who knows) created a brand new subplot for your story. With Julian gone for what may be weeks, the now sober Jenseric has ample time to ruminate on his circumstance. Soon grief and fear will give way to anger and thoughts of vengeance. Given so much time alone, I can see him deciding to take matters into his own hands.

Posted by: SubRosa Sep 29 2010, 08:19 PM

As the others said, the conversation between Julian and Roland comes out very well, conveying Roland's story in a smooth, well-paced way. It makes the entire episode fly by, as we are caught up in the words.

@Destri: Seridur did tell the Watch that Relfina was murdered by Roland. It was back in Chapter 14.7. However, the Watch seemed unconvinced, and only wanted Roland for questioning. They apparently did have the body, because the watchman, Claudio, reacted to being asked about it. Later, the Claudio made a point of not noticing when Julian broke into Roland's house to look for clues.

One thing I learned in Oblivion, is that if anyone accuses someone of being a vampire, it means that they are definitely one themselves. It is exactly the same with Bruma vampire quest.

Posted by: Destri Melarg Sep 29 2010, 10:10 PM

Whoops. I forgot all about the Claudio.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Oct 1 2010, 03:34 PM

@mALX: I’m greatly tempted to leave everyone hanging until it comes out in the story!

@Acadian: I thought I would race through this Grand Tour, but Julian has other ideas. So I’ve decided to just kick back and relax and let her tell her tale.

@ treydoggie: Again you offer an uncanny insight into Julian’s character and her essential nature. On the one hand I’m awed by your perception, on the other hand I’m pleased that I’m writing well enough for you to pick up on all my feelings and impressions about this grizzled character of mine.

@Destri: I had no intention of introducing a new subplot into this story, but you do raise some interesting questions. How will Julian ensure that Jenseric will know all is well and it is now safe for him to return to the Imperial City? That is something I will have to address in the future (less than a week from her POV).

@SubRosa: Thanks for the comments about the conversation.

Now we skip ahead to the most frustrating Gate to close of all, thanks to a certain privileged Dunmer. Huzzah! This has turned out to be one of my favorite chapters to write, simply because the NPC's are so - well - colorful.

******************
Chapter 18.1 Huzzah!

Back in the familiar blood and fire of the exterior Deadlands after the hot and dark caves, I paused to get my bearings. A narrow path twisted to my right, towards a pair of tall gate posts that marked the beginning of the long bridge I had noted earlier on my arrival at the top of the hill. That was all the time I had to see, for two armored figures appeared around a cluster of rocks.

One of them, a slightly built young Dunmer beneath the bulky steel plate, put his fists on his hips. “Well, it’s about time!” he exclaimed haughtily. “What took you so damned long?”

Farwil Indarys. Gregori did warn me about him. “Here I am, serjo,” I said, snapping the katana smartly before my face in the salute usually accorded only to Legion officers.

“Where are the others?” Indarys demanded. “Didn’t you bring more reinforcements?”

“What reinforcements, serjo?” I responded. “There is only me, but that should be all you need.” I slid my gaze from the Dunmer to the almost equally young Imperial standing just behind Farwil. “Please fill me in on what happened, serjo,” I turned back to Indarys.

He puffed his chest out. “I set out with the rest of the Knights to dispatch this blemish on the face of Cyrodiil. We struck as fast and true as lightning. We numbered only seven but attacked like a century! Huzzah!” His light tenor voice barely hid the pain and fatigue I could see in his face.

My brows wanted to rise, but I kept my gaze level. I had seen the other five Knights, dead and stripped of their weapons, scattered along the path down from the Gate at the peak of this island. I doubted it had happened as Indarys claimed.

“I see,” I commented blandly. About to say more, I saw that Indarys wasn’t finished.

“We swept all before us. We fought our way nearly to the keep,” he pointed at the sigil tower barely visible at the other end of the long bridge. “Then daedra reinforcements arrived, and we had to fall back to this redoubt.”

I looked around. Redoubt? “Very well, serjo,” I looked closer at Indarys. “How badly are you injured?”

“Just a couple of scratches,” he answered bravely. The gash on his face was more than a scratch, and blood seeped from beneath the pauldron on his left arm. I handed him a vial of healing potion I had purchased from the Mages Guild chapter house in Cheydinhal.

“Sit down here, serjo,” I said to him. “Rest for a couple of minutes. I’m just going to look around for a bit.”

Indarys seemed all too happy to take my advice. Turning away from him, I caught the Imperial’s eye and jerked my head to step away. The young man had struck me as being a little less, well, confident than the Dunmer. “Who are you, sir?” I asked him.

“Brennan Senyan,” he answered. “Please don’t judge Farwil too harshly. Most of what he says is - fabricated,” he shrugged. “But he’s young -” Now I let my brows climb my forehead. You’re not that much older, Senyan, I thought, but kept silent. Senyan pressed on, “- quite brash and inexperienced. All he wants to do is please his father,” Senyan glanced at the Dunmer.

I nodded my understanding. Akatosh knows I’ve seen that often enough in the Legion. Officers’ sons are the worst. “I’ve known him since we were lads, and fighting to protect Cheydinhal is in his heart. I just wish -” Senyan looked away, his voice dropping so I had to lean forward to hear him, “I just wish his heart was bigger than his hubris.”

“All right, sir,” I said, silently thanking Martin for explaining hubris to me so long ago. “I’ve heard what Indarys has to say. What happened here?”

“I suppose you want to hear the real story rather than Farwil’s version,” Senyan admitted. I nodded to encourage him. “As soon as we entered the gate, Farwil decided a direct assault was called for. We lost three in the first wave, then two more in the second skirmish,” he pointed at the foot of bridge, at the end of the path. “Farwil and I made it to the sigil keep, only to find our way blocked. We tried to retreat -” Senyan stopped, struggling to keep control. I looked down at the ground between us to give him a moment. His story sounded authentic so far - consistent with what I had noticed on my way down the hill.

“We were cut off and stuck here until you arrived.” Senyan continued after a moment. Hearing the weariness in his voice, I nodded. “It’s just like Farwil to leap before looking. Had we brought a Guard contingent, we might have taken the sigil stone with minimal losses.” He shook his head. “But Farwil wanted to prove a point. The City Guard doesn’t think we have what it takes, and Farwil wanted to show them.” He met my gaze pleadingly. “That doesn’t matter now. Help us get that sigil stone, please, ma’am.”

The young man, so serious compared to Indarys's braggadocio, looked paler than I liked. “Give me your hands, Senyan,” I ordered. He looked at me warily, but obeyed the pilus in my voice.

Ever since my desperate healing of Soren, I had been practicing my convalescence spell. I had found it made more effective use of my magicka if I could touch the other, rather than casting it from a distance. While discussing it with Cirroc, I had learned that the physical contact allowed me to borrow a little bit of energy from my patient.

Now, I concentrated on finding Senyan’s pain and taking some of it into my own hands. I used it to drive the formation of my spell, then sent it back into Senyan’s hands. His breath deepened as the pain released, and his bruises and injuries healed.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he said, relief clear in his voice. With a smile at him, I returned to Indarys, pausing to drink down a vial that restored my magicka.

“Serjo, how are you feeling?” I asked the Dunmer. He stood up eagerly.

“Now that you are here, we’ll proceed to the keep and take the sigil stone,” he declared. “I suggest we use the Reman Sweep formation. You lead the way, and we’ll cover your back. Huzzah!”

Again I fought to keep my face, and voice bland. What war manuals has this boy been reading? ‘Reman Sweep Formation?’ “Very well, serjo, that works for me.” Let’s see if he’ll really cover my back.

As I led them down to the bridge, I moved into a crouch. Wincing at the sound of their clattering armor behind me, I wondered if I could pull off my usual sneak attacks. Fortunately, the lava we crossed provided plenty of noise as cover. The air was typically heavy with soot, heat, and sparks, making it hard to see any considerable distance.

One knee grounded, I peered into the dense atmosphere. There! I could just barely see two shadows moving from side to side, just at the limits of visibility in this gods-forsaken place. My katana returned to its sheath, and I reached for my plain steel bow and strung it easily. With a steel bodkin tip from my quiver, I sighted on one bulky figure. By the way it walked, I recognized the heavy stride of a Dremora Kynval. When he stood at the edge of bridge, with his partner across the full width of the structure, I released the arrow.

The bulky form staggered back as the arrow impacted him, somewhere high on the left side, judging by the way he spun in that direction. As I had hoped, he disappeared over the edge of the bridge. With another arrow nocked, I swung in the other direction and looked for the other Dremora. When he turned around to continue his patrol, he hesitated, whipping out his weapon and scanning the area. Lose something?

The bodkin point flew from the twanging string as I pulled another arrow and aimed without waiting to see the effect of the first. Unlike the first Dremora, this one kept his balance and started running toward us. Waiting until I could see the red glow of the helm’s eye slits, I aimed at the left hand one and released the bowstring.

The clatter of passing armor startled me as Indarys ran past, waving his steel longsword and shouting. But my backup arrow had done its job, and the Dremora keeled over backwards. Indarys slowed, Senyan catching up to him, and they stopped beside the Dremora. Idiots! If he’s still alive, he can skewer them like pheasants on a spit!

On my feet again, I advanced forward, angling to the right to approach the Dremora from the other side. The two young men looked up as I came near, my katana in my right hand, the bow still in my left. I stabbed downwards with the slender blade, aiming it just beneath the chin-line of the helm into the Kynval’s throat. Without stopping my forward movement, I let the sword slide out behind me before sheathing it. No skewering anyone now.

At the spot on the bridge where the two Kynvals had been patrolling, I dropped to my knee again. The doors of the sigil keep were barely visible ahead, with two more shadows pacing back and forth between them. With the same tactics, I managed to drop both Dremora before the two young bravos behind me noticed them.

After another moment of watching and waiting, I decided the bridge was clear and unstrung my bow. If this keep turned out to be like the others, I wouldn’t need the bow again until we reached the sigil chamber at the top. We? Let’s see if I can keep these two numbnuts alive that long.

****************
In the winding passage, I moved to the wall and started up the long ramp that led to the first of the side halls. Again that damned clattering behind me destroyed all hope of ambushing the daedra that infested the place. Heavy footfalls sounded above us, and Indarys started past me. I barely managed to grab the edge of his pauldron with my left hand and found myself nearly pulled off my feet.

The young Dunmer spun to me, his red eyes blazing at me. “We have a mission to complete!” he said angrily. “Why do you keep holding me back?”

A screech from above warned us of the oncoming clannfear. As the reptilian creature beelined for Indarys, I spotted the hulking form of a Dremora standing at the top of the passage. He seemed to be watching the clannfear, not me. By sidling along the wall, I managed to get close before he spotted me. With a challenging growl, he ran at me, great sword lifted high for an overhanded blow. I slid to the center of the passage and kept my eyes on that big blade. Since it would be vain to try and block that sword, even with Matius’s enchanted cuirass, I resisted the automatic impulse to lift my shieldless left arm.

Instead, I visualized lightning, and flung a bolt of white light at the Dremora as he swung his weapon down. A skip to my left allowed me to avoid the descending blade, and I tapped his shoulder with my new Daedra Slayer. A katana, it had been enchanted with one of the fire damage sigil stones recovered from one of the earlier gates. Flames engulfed his cuirass for a brief, yet endless moment. A nearly soundless shriek ripped through the sounds of battle, and the daedric metal turned a sooty black. Before the Dremora could raise his heavy sword again, I stabbed the katana through his now brittle covering, deep into his side. The smell of burning flesh and blood hit my nostrils as the fire from my weapon ate away at his lungs and heart.

Behind me, the two knights - no, boys playing warrior - managed to finish off the clannfear in rather sloppy fashion. In the side hall, I determined that there were no more enemies present. Back to my full height, I turned and stalked towards the young Dunmer as he entered the hall, bloodied sword ready for the next assault.

“Serjo,” I went toe to toe with Farwil while lowering the tip of Daedra Slayer to the floor. “Your mission is to close this Gate and save Cheydinhal. My mission,” I jerked my left thumb at the Wolf on my breast, keeping my voice even, “is to keep you alive long enough to do it!” The frustration crept into my voice at the end, and I hoped he didn’t hear it as disrespect. Though it’s near impossible to respect this fool!

I saw the pain beneath the furious look in Indarys's eye. “Do you have any of those healing potions I gave you?” I asked him. He shook his head, still angry with me. “You drank them all?” I can’t believe this! One little scratch and he’s guzzling the stuff!

“Farwil,” Senyan laid his gauntleted hand on the Dunmer’s armored shoulder with a soft clank. “Julian is an experienced soldier, and knows what she is doing here. We should do well to let her lead the way. After all, she needs to have her back covered.” He looked past Indarys at me. “Right, Julian?”

I took a deep breath. “Yes, I do,” I responded. By real soldiers who know how to cover each others’ backs. Indarys is no different from the tironii I used to lead. And it was a damned tiro that ended my career. I turned away and moved to the opposite side of the hall, where another passageway wound further up the side of the sigil keep. If I have to look at that idiot another second I’m going to throttle him!

Posted by: mALX Oct 1 2010, 03:50 PM

WOO HOO !!!

QFT !!!

I hate this quest, but I love reading Julian doing it !!! Finally we found something that tries her patience !!!! Wonderful job you are doing with this, I am loving reading what you have done with the most hated quest in the game (to me) !!!!!!

Posted by: treydog Oct 1 2010, 04:27 PM

Your use of the word “colorful” puts me in mind of the scene in Butch Cassidy where a tobacco-chewing Strother Martin explains to the boys: “I’m not crazy. I’m just colorful. When you run a gold mine in Bolivia for 10 years, you become colorful.”

And haute officially enters the “No Beverages While Reading” Club.



And we get a little more information about what happened to Julian. Plus a perfect summation of the feelings of most anyone who has had to deal with these more-idiotic-than-usual "followers." Whenever I had to close that Gate, I was tempted to kill them myself, just to get it over with.

But- so far at least- Julian is able to rise above her justified anger and stay focused on the mission. Of course, I wouldn't exactly mind if she grabbed Farwil by the scruff of his neck and indicated the Kvatch wolf while explaining: "I may not fancy myself a knight, but I earned this. And not by bopping bunnies in the woods!"

Posted by: Acadian Oct 1 2010, 11:20 PM

Poor Julian. Often, it seems so much better to do these things alone. Unfortunately, the game doesn't always allow it.

I found this delightfully humorous!

Very nicely explained!

I really liked the simple, but effective image this evoked!

Nit? You might want to bypass some of the duplication of 'me' with something like: 'The clatter of passing armor startled me as Indarys ran by, waving his steel long sword and shouting.'

For brother treydog:

Posted by: SubRosa Oct 2 2010, 12:22 AM

Poor Julian, surviving Oblivion is one thing, but surviving her "helpers" is quite another!

I liked the part about Julian borrowing Senyan's pain and using it to fuel her healing spell. That was a good touch.

And it was a damned tiro that ended my career.
Ahh, yet another glimpse into the mystery of Julian's past!


nits:
We numbered only seven but attacked like a regiment
It is purely a matter of flavor, but since you have already been very dedicated to portraying the Roman Legionary system, perhaps a term like Cohort might be better here?

Posted by: Cardboard Box Oct 2 2010, 09:09 AM

Talking to the worng person. You need to explain it to Farwil Numbnuts Pimpleeyes PleasebyallthegodsgivemeonereasonwhyIshouldn'tletyouremoveyourselffromthegenepool Indarys.

Ra'jirra is willing to offer you his favourite mace as a teaching aid.

Posted by: Destri Melarg Oct 2 2010, 09:56 AM

Whew! I see I’m not the only one with a weakness for long, elaborate sentences. One could sprain a synapse reading this one!

Once again your clinical explanation of the inner workings of magic demystifies it for us mouth breathers. What I enjoy the most is the complicated methodology of restoration vs. the ‘think of lightning’ simplicity of destruction.

Does the reward for keeping Farwil alive justify the aggravation? I hope so for Julian’s sake. Given everyone’s reaction to this quest, I am glad that I have never done it.

*Must . . . resist . . . Dhertee Inuu-Endo!!!*

Posted by: haute ecole rider Oct 3 2010, 06:00 PM

@mALX: Actually I had a lot more fun writing this than I did playing it! Something about this quest really brings out the tongue-in-cheek side of Julian.

@treydog: Julian’s thoughts during this quest caught me off guard and had me laughing. And so did your comments - I learned a long time ago to put my drinks down before reading anything you write - whether it’s Athlain or a comment. I never know what’s going to nab me!

@Acadian: I found Julian’s recognition of the term hubris quite funny too. Your nit has been fixed.

@SubRosa: regiment is what was used in the in-game dialog, but you make a good point. I went back and changed it to be more Roman-flavored, though I think cohort is a bit excessive, even considering the speaker.

@Boxee: Julian said to tell Ra’jirra thanks for the offer. She’s got her own methods, but truly appreciates the thought.

@Destri: Have you ever read Faulkner? Talk about long sentences! Dhertee Inuu-Endo is always welcome! Thanks!

Julian manages not to throttle Farwil Indarys - yet. Huzzah!

*****************
Chapter 18.2 Indarys Comes Through

It took all my patience and skill to get the two bravos to the top of the keep. When we finally entered the sigil chamber, I turned to them. The noise of the sigil fire drowned my voice enough that I could talk to them, our heads together, without being overheard.

“I’m going to put a few arrows in one of these guys first,” I told them, pointing out the locations where I suspected daedra patrolled. “Then I’ll need you to finish him off while I take care of the next one.” I locked eyes with Indarys. “Watch your step, if you fall into that fire, I can’t help you. No one can.”

Stringing my bow again, I pulled out three bodkin-tipped arrows. I handed two to Senyan with an admonition to hold them ready, and drew out the vial of poison I kept tucked with my bowstrings. Carefully, I dribbled just enough of the vile stuff to coat the arrowhead.

Senyan reached for the vial. “I’ll treat the other two, Julian,” he offered.

“Be careful, then,” I told him. “Don’t spill any of it, and don’t get it on yourself.” He nodded and mimicked my actions with the two missiles he held, corking the vial and handing it back to me. Then he held the arrows so their points aimed at the wall, at a slightly downward angle to avoid the poison running down the shafts onto his hand. I nodded at him in approval. Senyan may be a little yes-man, but at least he has sense.

We crept up the familiar taloned ramp, with myself in the lead. Here, the racket of the sigil fire drowned out the noise their plate armor made.

On the long ride from Bruma, I had thought long and hard about how close I had come to losing Soren to a Dremora spell. Yes, he was young, and inexperienced, and scared the whole time we were in there. But he never hesitated to meet battle when battle came for him. Somehow he found courage in his shaking knees, and that’s the best kind of recruit an old pilus like me can ask for. He learned fast. But how can I keep young tironii like him alive long enough to kill spellcasting Dremora?

A conversation with Eilonwy, the Altmer alchemist at the Cheydinhal Mages Guild, had resulted in this poison. It would drain the target’s magicka to such a low level that he or she would be unable to cast powerful spells such as the one that had nearly killed Soren. Let’s hope this works.

At the top of the ramp, I paused to scan the circular balcony that formed the second level of the top chamber. The roar of the sigil fire was underscored by the screaming of tortured souls within the enchanted stone suspended at the peak of the pillar. Above my head, the leathered platform sagged under the weight of a Dremora. From the shape of his shadow, I knew he was a mage.

Two Dremora stood in the usual positions across the immense chamber, and I motioned to Indarys and Senyan to hold their positions before I sighted on the left hand Dremora. As I had on the bridge, I waited until the other was facing away, then loosed the poisoned arrow at the first.

As I stepped onto the balcony and slid left, I nodded for the two bravos to come charging up, which they did. As he passed me, Senyan handed me the arrows he held. I placed the shaft of one between my teeth and nocked the other. With my head tilted slightly to the left to avoid the poison dripping onto the ironwood and into my mouth, I sighted on the other Kynval as he spun around. The first Dremora was already running for the two bravos, but his magic fizzled in his hands. Before the other could raise his hand to cast a spell, my second arrow had buried itself in the flesh of his thigh, just behind the edge of the greave.

The last poisoned arrow nocked on my string, I glanced up in time to see the shadow of the Dremora mage move to my left toward the clash between the two inexperienced bravos and the hulking Kynvals. I ran to my right and rounded the balcony in time to see the mage reach the bottom of the ramp and turn towards the combat.

My feet braced, I sighted on a point just above his head, took my routine half breath, and loosed the arrow. The broadhead dropped slightly across the distance to hammer into the mage’s unprotected ribs, and I saw his unarmored head turn a faint green tinge before he collapsed.

My bow back on my shoulder, I drew Daedra Slayer and continued my pell mell run around the balcony. The Dremora mage may be dead, or close to it, but the silenced Kynvals were still more than a match for the two bravos.

Still at speed, I spiked my hand and visualized my flame atronach. Need to equalize this fight somehow. As the creature braced herself to start casting her fireballs, I dodged to the right to stay out of her line of fire.

As I passed the mage’s body, I stabbed the enchanted blade into his rib cage, then raised it to strike at the nearer of the two Kynval warriors. Catching the red glimmer of my sword out of the corner of his eye, he turned in time to catch a fireball from Domina Incendia full in his face. His screech momentarily drowned out the screaming of the sigil fire, and his hands came up to wrench the helm off.

Daedra Slayer struck the front of his cuirass, weakening the armor enough for me to punch the tip through the brittle metal. With the handle lowered, I shoved the sword upwards into the Dremora’s rib cage. He threw the helm at me, the heavy object striking my right shoulder and dropping me to my knees.

My hand clenched on the hilt, I flung myself back as the Kynval bent over the wound in his belly, then pitched forward to land beside me, shaking the balcony with the force of his collapse. My right shoulder screamed as I tried to raise the blade from the corpse. I grabbed the hilt left-handed and readied the sword for another attack.

As Domina Incendia disappeared in a swirl of purple smoke, Senyan went skidding on his back along the floor, his steel plate throwing off sparks. The remaining Dremora raised his mace at Indarys, who was screaming - what? Insults? Defiance? - at the Kynval, blood pouring down his face from a cut in his scalp. The young Dunmer was flailing his sword against the Dremora’s impenetrable armor.

I struggled to my feet, my right arm dangling uselessly at my side, and lurched toward the taller of the two combatants, aiming the tip of Daedra Slayer at that spot in the other’s right armpit which was exposed by the open joint in the armor. Flames shot out along the blade and from the wound as the sword sank in half its length before hitting something hard.

The Kynval staggered, spinning towards me as his right arm dropped. The mace clattered to the floor and the Dremora’s armored limb crashed into my already injured shoulder. A scream of pain ripped through my throat as both of us fell to the floor. I managed to land on my behind, and kicked at him savagely, recovering my sword from his body. Howling from the burning fire in his chest, the Kynval fell backwards, slipping over the edge of the balcony.

On my back, gasping against the red-rimmed agony that was my right shoulder, I turned my head to look for Indarys. He was on his knees, panting as hard as I, bracing himself on his sword. Beyond him, I could see the steel lump that was Senyan, still prostrate.

All my healing potions were gone, and my magicka was still depleted by casting that atronach, Domina Incendia. Thank you, Volanaro, for teaching me that spell. She had proven to be more durable and effective than Bones.

As I rolled to my left side, I leveraged myself off the floor and sheathed the katana awkwardly. I stumbled to Indarys and put my hand on his shoulder to get his attention. He looked up at me, his eyes barely redder than the blood from the gash in his scalp. Superficial. Bloody more than serious.

As I straightened up with some difficulty, I looked over at Senyan. He hasn’t moved. My heart skipped a beat. His stillness scared me, and I moved quickly to the prone Imperial. Once on my knees next to him, I touched his face. Clammy. Damn! The pulse in his throat was weak and thready.

His bruised eyelids flickered, and breath whistled between his clenched teeth. “Senyan!” I shouted to be heard over the sigil fire. “Senyan!” His brown eyes opened, the left more than the right, which was already swelling shut. His lips barely moved.

As I leaned down to him, I caught a barest whisper. “Farwil?”

“He’s fine!” I spoke into his ear. “Bruises and cuts!” Though my magicka was not yet fully replenished, I could feel the overwhelming pain Senyan must be feeling, worse than the torment in my shoulder.

Indarys staggered over and clanked to his knees at Senyan’s other side. I saw fear in the Dunmer’s face for the first time. He’s afraid of losing his best friend.

“Is he going to die?” Indarys asked me. Shrugging, I shook my head.

“Not if I can help it, serjo.” Meeting the Dunmer’s gaze, I let him see my worry. “I’m going to try a convalescence spell, but it’s going to take all I’ve got. You may be dragging both of us out of here on your own. Understood?”

He nodded, his jaw developing a grim set. “Anything I can do to help?”

I started to shake my head, but peered closer at Indarys. It was the first time I heard him say anything other than his usual self-centeredness. “If I’m useless after this, serjo,” I told him, “you’ll need to get the both of us up there,” I pointed at the dais near the sigil stone. “Somehow, you’ve got to hold both of us while you’re taking the stone. If contact is broken, one or both of us will be left behind in this Godsforsaken place.”

“No one’s staying behind,” Indarys vowed. He looked down at Senyan, brushing the other’s brown hair back from his face. “You hear me, Brennan?” he leaned down to the Imperial. “You’re not staying behind!” Senyan showed no response that I could see, but Indarys leaned back and nodded at me urgently.

As I had with Soren, I put my hands, moving my right one with great difficulty, on either side of Senyan’s head. Hunched forward so our foreheads almost touched, I closed my eyes and focused on the pain. Agony, his and mine, cycled back and forth between us, growing stronger in my hands, until I could bear it no longer. With a gasp, I released all the energy back into Senyan.

Weakened from the effort and the depletion, I collapsed to the floor beside Senyan, curling up against the pain in my right shoulder. My teeth bit back the scream that tore my throat, and I forced myself to open suddenly heavy eyelids to look at Senyan’s profile.

His chestplate moved with his deepening breaths, and Senyan blinked a couple of times. “Oh, damn!” he groaned, just audible beneath the howling of the sigil fire. “That hurts!”

Amen, I answered to myself, letting my eyes fall closed. Senyan’s armor clattered as he sat up, then I felt his touch on my right arm. “How bad are you hurt, Julian?” he spoke into my ear. “Don’t lie to me, I could feel it!” he shouted when I shook my head.

“Damn shoulder’s broken, I think,” I panted. “Too many heavy things falling on me.”

“Help me with her, Brennan,” Indarys’s voice reached me. Hands slid under my arms, grasped the side buckles on my cuirass.

“Be careful with her right shoulder!” Senyan exclaimed as Indarys hefted me to my feet. My eyes opened as I staggered, but the Dunmer steadied me on my feet, taking my left arm across his shoulders.

“Let’s get up there, Brennan,” Indarys said, turning us to head toward the foot of the ramp. In spite of his care avoiding my shoulder, blackness swamped my consciousness for several minutes -

- Then we were standing on the dais before the sigil stone. Indarys turned his head so he could speak into my ear. “Can you reach it, Julian?”

“No, serjo,” I panted. “You’re the protector of Cheydinhal. You should be the one to take it.”

Senyan traded places with Indarys. By the Nine, he isn’t much stronger than me! Both of us leaned against each other as Indarys stepped onto the metal ring that held the sigil stone balanced on top of its fire. He looked back, holding his right hand out to Senyan. We wobbled a bit when Senyan reached forward with his own right hand to grasp Indarys’s wrist, his left still holding my arm across his shoulders.

“Indarys!” I managed to make myself heard. “That stone is going to feel funny - all squirmy and noisy. For the love of Akatosh, do not drop that stone!”

Posted by: mALX Oct 3 2010, 06:21 PM

WHEW !!!!!! I have chill bumps from reading this !!! Riveting from beginning to end, powerful !!!! And how you made that Indarys brat pull it together and be the hero !!!! I had tears reading this !!! AWESOME WRITE !!!!! just AWESOME !!!!!!!!!

Posted by: SubRosa Oct 3 2010, 06:26 PM

Senyan may be a little yes-man, but at least he has sense.
Sounds like he would do well in the legion then. He does indeed show some common sense, unlike his buffonish leader.

And the old dog has a new trick up her sleeve as well I see. Drain Magicka, very clever. Although she might have gone with a Silence as well. Or was that a silence, and you just described at as reducing their magicka?

Domina Incendia is perfect! With Old Bones for her skeleton, I cannot wait to see what she calls her next summoned creature!

A very exciting conclusion to the gate run. I am glad to see that at least the two bravos pitched in and helped. It looks like Farwil did a lot of growing up as well. Perhaps the spoiled kid he was will remain behind in the gate, and instead a man will return? To be honest, you really did an excellent job portraying both him and Senyan, giving them a lot more depth and life than either has in the game.

Posted by: Acadian Oct 3 2010, 08:57 PM

I loved Julian's creative use of poison!

We share two wonderful things. We like to name our summons, and our characters are empathic healers. How neat!

Julian truly is a Daedra Slayer!

How very Julian for her to uplift the confidence of her companions, expecially near the end.

Yeah, all squirmy and noisy.

Posted by: Destri Melarg Oct 4 2010, 08:28 AM

You absolutely nailed this chapter. The battle was well-described and the development of Farwil’s character made him someone that we hope to see again (imagine that!). Through her actions, Julian imparted her wisdom into the spoiled young dunmer and put him on the path to being the kind of leader Cheydinhal requires. We’ll just see if his new-found humility and courage accompany him outside the gate.

And Domina Incendia? Awesome!

Posted by: D.Foxy Oct 5 2010, 02:21 AM

You know what, hautee? If I didn't know you were both a civilian and a female, I would think a warrior - current or retired - was writing this story.

Posted by: treydog Oct 5 2010, 12:27 PM

One of the things I like about Julian- besides everything, I mean- is that she learns. She finds new ways of dealing with things based on earlier experiences. You also show her so clearly as someone who would have been a good pilus. Despite her impatience, she does all she can to keep her young charges alive, and to instill in them the knowledge they will need to survive when she is no longer around.

A perfect example of "show, don't tell." In fact that is true of this entire episode. Simply wonderful in all of its gritty, crunching, realism.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Oct 5 2010, 03:52 PM

@mALX: If I can give you goosebumps, my job is done.

@SubRosa: Yes, I felt that those two bravos can not survive this Gate without doing some growing up. But as Julian and I know all too well, old habits die hard. Their transformation won’t be quite as complete as we would like. But at least it’s a start!

@Acadian: I prefer to refer to my summons by name rather than “summoned atronach” or just plain “summons.” And yes, it is Julian reverting to old habits when she gives her companions the confidence at the end.

@Destri: I’ll let you decide for yourself if Julian’s lesson sticks once Farwil is back in familiar surroundings.

@Fox: Aw, gee, thanks! Now where’s that darn twirl emoticon when I need it? Would you accept this instead?

@treydog: As a veterinarian, I understand the importance of learning. Life is about learning. If you stop learning (or changing), you die. It’s that simple. And Julian has learned that hard lesson a long time ago. I’m glad you liked my latest “show!”

Count Indarys turns out to be less irritating than his son. Sort of.

**********************
Chapter 18.3 The Count's Gratitude

Amminus Gregori, to his credit, sized up the situation quickly, and had the guards escort us to the Chapel for immediate healing. While we rested under the care of Ohtesse, Count Andel Indarys, Farwil’s father, arrived with half the Guard in tow.

After a murmured conversation with his son, the Count turned and looked across the infirmary at me. Slumped in an easy chair, my right arm in a sling, I sipped at tea mixed with a powerful healing potion. Of the three of us, I had sustained the least physical injury, only a broken shoulder. However, my magicka had been badly depleted, which left me weak as a baby.

“You’re exhausted, Julian,” Ohtesse said to me, drawing my attention from the Dunmer Count. “You need to rest for a while, before you can travel again.” With a gentle touch, she adjusted the sling over my left shoulder. “Keep this on for a full day - your right shoulder will heal stronger for it.” The beautiful Altmer woman met my gaze with her hazel eyes. “You can stay here while you recover.”

“Nay,” the Count spoke from behind Ohtesse. She bowed and retreated. “Julian of Anvil,” he turned to me and waved me back down when I tried to rise. “You are welcome to stay in the Castle.”

“Thank you for your kindness, serjo,” I bowed from the waist. Indarys nodded at his bodyguard, who drew up another easy chair for him. As the Dunmer noble seated himself, the soldier took up position behind him. I looked into my tea. “I have a bed at the Mages Guild here in town.”

“Ah, you are a mage, then?” Indarys rested his elbows on the arms of the chair, steepling his fingers in front of his chin.

“No, serjo,” I shook my head. “Only a mere Associate.” When I caught Ohtesse’s stern glance from across the infirmary, I took another sip of the medicated tea. “I have much to learn about magic.”

“And being a Redguard, you don’t have much magicka to begin with,” Indarys held my gaze. “You are more a fighter, no?”

“I was trained to it, serjo.” Finished with the last of the tea, I lowered the cup to my lap.

“And yet you gave my son all of your healing potions, and you saved his friend’s life at great risk to your own,” the Count lowered his hands, turning one of them to study his immaculately manicured fingernails. “I’m certain Farwil tried your patience dearly. Like any father,” now he pinned me to the chair with his red gaze, “I love him dearly. Yet, he has much to learn, before he can take my place as Count of Cheydinhal.”

Memories of how Farwil had dealt with two incapacitated companions at the end still fresh in my mind, I considered the Count’s words. “It will take him time to find his maturity, serjo,” I looked across the infirmary, where Farwil sat on the edge of Senyan’s cot, regaling not a few of the Count’s Guard with stories. Though his voice was for the most part too quiet for me to hear, an occasional huzzah! - along with some manly chest thumping - would reach me at intervals. The right side of my mouth quirked slightly as I looked back at the Count. “But I have no doubt when the time comes, he will do well.”

Now Indarys clasped his hands loosely in front of him, watching his son. “I do see a little maturity already,” he agreed. “For that, and for my son’s life, I owe you a great deal. What is it you want most from life? Name it, and if it is in my power, it is yours.”

Can it be so easy? With a slow inhalation, I waited until the Count met my gaze. “Bruma is under threat, serjo,” I spoke carefully. “Already a Gate has opened, though the City Watch has closed it successfully. But there will be others. Evidence indicates that Bruma will be the next Kvatch. Not Cheydinhal, not the Imperial City, or any of the other cities of Cyrodiil.” As I paused for breath, I watched Indarys for an indication of the effect my words had on him.

His gaze did not flicker, nor did his bland expression change. He returned my look steadily, patiently. He has all the time in the world, long-lived as he is, as Dunmer are.

“All I ask, serjo, is that you send some men to Bruma to reinforce their garrison. Otherwise, they will fall, once the Bruma Watch is depleted.”

“And why should I care what happens to Bruma?” Indarys remarked, his face and voice very quiet.

“Bruma falls, so goes the rest of Cyrodiil,” I matched his tone. “Cyrodiil must make our stand at Bruma, serjo.”

A thin eyebrow quirked upwards. “Then I am not the only one you are appealing to?”

“No, serjo,” I answered. “Only the first.”

Indarys rose and walked slowly away, his personal bodyguard shadowing him. A meter away, the Dunmer count turned on his heel and looked back at me. “And for yourself, you ask for nothing?”

“What I ask for,” I answered quietly, “only Akatosh himself has the power to grant.”

********************
Indarys had left me without an answer. Now, two days later, I pulled myself out of the well behind the Mages Guild. Thank you, Merowald, for the Jewel of the Rumare. I was still shaking over what I had found in the depths of the well.

Dressed again my shirt and skirt, I re-entered the Mages Guild. The enchanted ring Falcar wanted sat heavily in my left hand, forcing me to move slowly and deliberately under its burden.

Deetsan saw me. “Julian!” She reached out to touch my left shoulder. “You look pale! What’ss wrong?”

“Where is Falcar?” I heard the barely suppressed anger in my tone. The slender Argonian recoiled at my words.

“It’ss my fault,” she answered in her soft hissing voice. “The way Falcar hass been treating all of uss. I wass worried about you, and angry about Vidkun -” her gaze sharpened on my face. “You know ssomething about him?”

“Vidkun’s dead,” I stated flatly. “Drowned in the well.” I held out my left hand, let the enchanted ring fall. It struck the floor with a surprisingly loud thump, denting the floor beneath it. “He couldn’t swim out with this on his finger.”

“He’ss dead?” Deetsan swayed, turning away from me, her wavering hands seeking and catching the counter beyond her. Her soft sobs reached me as she leaned heavily on the tabletop. I waited, feeding my anger. “I knew it!” her voice reflected my mood. “I knew ssomething like thiss musst have happened. Damned fetcher musst have known, yet he ssaid nothing!” She slammed her fist on the wooden surface, lifting her face to the ceiling. “How could he allow thiss to happen!”

Faces appeared around the foyer, from the alchemy lab, from the library, and from the study area at the sound of her anger. I ignored them. “Deetsan, where is Falcar?” my voice grated between my teeth.

Deetsan spun to glare at me, but I didn’t flinch. As angry as she was at the moment, I knew her good nature too well to trust she wouldn’t harm me. Besides, it wasn’t Deetsan I intended harm to, it was Falcar.

“I confronted him,” she hissed at me, her orange eyes blazing. “He wass sso furiouss when he found out I had given you thosse sspells. I threatened to report him to the Council of Magess!” As suddenly as her rage had flared up, it died back down. “I thought he would kill me, he wass sso angry. I didn’t undersstand half of hiss ranting.” She took a deep, shaky breath. “He sstormed out.” She shook her head. “I don’t know if he did ever write your recommendation.”

As quickly as hers, my own anger bled away. “Falcar’s gone?” I repeated. She nodded miserably.

“Excuse me,” Trayvond stepped down the stairs from the library. “Julian, if you go look in Falcar’s quarters, perhaps you’ll find that he has written a recommendation.”

****************
An hour later, I returned to where the mages gathered in the common room, murmuring quietly among themselves. Deetsan detached herself from the others and approached me.

“I didn’t find anything like a recommendation,” I spoke quietly as we drew away from the others. “But I found these,” I placed the two black soul gems into her hands. Her eyes grew wide in astonishment.

“What’ss thiss?” she hissed. “Necromancy?” Her hands closed convulsively over the gems, slipping them into a pocket of her gown. “Thiss iss sso much worsse than I thought, Julian.” She looked into my eyes. “I’ll take it from here. I will write you a recommendation and include it in my report to the Council.”

A knock at the front door interrupted my response. We turned as Trayvond opened the door, admitting a guardsman. “Good afternoon, magister,” he said politely to the grey-haired Redguard. “I have a message for Julian from Anvil.”

“I’m here,” I stepped forward, approaching the young man. He turned and bobbed his head, holding out a long, narrow package across both hands.

“I’m to wait for your reply, ma’am,” he said. The package was surprisingly heavy as I carried it to a nearby counter and set it down with a metallic clang. Can it be a sword? Right size, right weight. Opening a folded parchment, I tilted it toward the southern light falling through the stained glass window above the door.

Julian of Anvil - an old fashioned script:

I have considered your request. As you read this, the Captain of the Cheydinhal Guard is leading a squad to Bruma to reinforce the garrison there.

While I do not have the power of Akatosh, I hope you will accept this for yourself. Thornblade has been in my family for many generations. It has a powerful enchantment, useful against armored opponents. May it serve you well in the uncertain days ahead.

Count Andel Indarys

Posted by: SubRosa Oct 5 2010, 04:48 PM

I like your invention of healing tea. It is a nice alternative to plain old "she drank a potion".

“What I ask for,” I answered quietly, “only Akatosh himself has the power to grant.”
Oooohhh!

The Jewel of the Rumare is handy for that one particular MG quest. Teresa does not mind Julian borrowing it. But she wishes she could have seen Julian before she got dressed again!

I enjoyed your portrayal of the Count, and how his questioning about her being a soldier or a mage must have made up his mind to give her Thornblade rather than the other reward.

Posted by: Acadian Oct 5 2010, 06:28 PM

This was a delight to read! A nice closeout on that gate she closed, help for Bruma and a wonderful bonus - the Cheydinhal guild recommendation!

Boy, if I was Falcar, I would have been gone by the time Julian got back to the guild as well! I loved how you let the ring of burden dent the floor - that is some real show not tell!

Posted by: mALX Oct 6 2010, 01:56 AM

I love so many things about this...to name just a few:


Count Indarys taking his time to consider before forking over that beautiful Thornblade. Because it is a family heirloom, it is all the more poignient that he thought hard about giving it and then chose to.

This was so perfect:

Little touches that really bring out the personalities of the NPC's (recognizably in this instance) are peppered through your writing.

I thought this was huge, what an example of showing!!! :




AWESOME WRITE !!!!

Posted by: Destri Melarg Oct 6 2010, 02:35 AM

My least favorite thing about the Cheydinhal recommendation is how blasé all of the mages are when told of Vidkun’s death. I am so glad that you addressed that within this chapter. When Julian tells Deetsan of Vidkun’s fate I could feel her anger and remorse. Likewise when Julian returns from Falcar’s study to find all the mages conversing quietly in the common room, one cannot help but realize that they are consoling each other over the death of a young and inexperienced colleague.

I won't quote the same passage already cited by mALX and Acadian. Suffice it to say that, when the ring hit the floor, I started smiling too.

And from my research I know that Thornblade carries an enchantment that should prove particularly useful against all those dremora still to come.

Posted by: Remko Oct 6 2010, 10:20 AM

Loved the way you handled that annoying Farwil and the Cheydinhal recommendation. Falcar better watch his british boat for a certain pissed off Redguard.

@mALX: As far as I know, Thornblade is not the only blue blade. The reward from (I'm not sure which) the Reynald brother's quest or the Odiil brothers (Killing Fields) is also blue right?

Posted by: mALX Oct 6 2010, 12:16 PM

Oops! You are right, that is blue! ARGH !!!

Posted by: treydog Oct 6 2010, 12:44 PM

You handled the transition from the Count to the Mages Guild smoothly. Again, I applaud your decision to tell the story of Vidkun's death "retrospectively." You preserve the power of Julian's righteous anger that way.

As others have noted, your NPCs have a lot more "life" than the game gives them. "Vidkun? Nope, haven't seen him."

And Count Indarys delivers- after giving the matter reasonable consideration.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Oct 7 2010, 04:50 PM

@SubRosa: I see you picked up on the Count’s purpose to his questions. I’m conflicted about his character in the game. On the one hand I liked how he treated my NPC’s during the Allies for Bruma quest, especially once I completed the Wayward Knight; on the other hand I didn’t like his personal habits (skooma party, wastrel ways, etc). So I can’t decide if I respect him or not. The others are much easier for me to make that decision. That conflict is something I do intend to explore in the future - he has a fascinating potential.

@Acadian: Yes, I’ve tried to pin Julian down on whether Falcar fled Cheydinhal because he recognized our implacable pilus, or because Deetsan had confronted him. Julian’s not telling.

@mALX: I couldn’t resist one last dig at the overblown hubris that is our beloved Dunmer heir. I think it is something he will never lose, no matter how much he matures in the future.

@Destri: I always felt that Deetsan would make a wonderful Chapter head because of her compassion for her fellow mages. And yes, the way the secondary NPC’s react (or fail to react) to significant events is one of the most irritating things about TES IV - more irritating than the aforementioned Dunmer heir.

@Remko: Falcar had better hope that Julian doesn’t join the hapless battlemages outside Silorn! And you’re right, Chillrend (from The Killing Field) is another blue blade.

@treydog: So you agree with my decision to show only the end of the Cheydinhal recommendation. I think almost everyone has done that quest, or at least heard about it. It is one of my least favorite quests in the game just because of Falcar’s abuse of his position of power. Argh! I’m so with Julian on that one.

On her way south, Julian finally resolves the Virtuous Blood case.

*********************
Chapter 18.4 Memorial Cave

After I double-checked the area around the cave, I let Paint loose. He remained where I left him, in front of the boarded-up entrance. After I worked a couple of planks loose, I managed to create an opening large enough for me to squeeze through.

Phintias had told me that he overheard Seridur talking about traveling to Memorial Cave on occasion. It was the best lead I had to Seridur, since he had disappeared from his home. Neither Grey-Throat nor Norvalo knew where he had gone.

Since the cave did not promise ideal conditions for archery, I strapped Daedra Slayer to my back, and my plain katana at my side, leaving my bows and quiver attached to Paint’s saddle.

The cave was typical as such places go - damp, chilly, and dark. Occasional torches warned me that something other than animals used the caverns. Working my way down the passage, I came to an intersection of two hallways. The one ahead of me brought me the smell of decayed flesh and a cool draft. The other, to my right, led up into darkness, and gave me no clue what lay beyond.

In the lower passage, I found coffins broken open, some empty, some filled with scattered bones and rotting tissue. Ahead, I heard the panting of a canine. I sought the shadows against the wall, where a clump of boulders shielded me from the open space in front of me. With pink energy in my mind’s vision, I lifted my left hand in a detect life spell. Less than three meters away, the large form of a timber wolf materialized in the gloom. His panting stopped at the same time.

Cacat! He heard me! The pink glow started stalking toward my hiding place as a soft growl preceded him. When the spell faded away, I drew my katana. In the dim glow from the distant torch, I could see the shadow pass my hiding place. My breath stopped, I waited until he had moved a few steps away from me toward the passage I had just come down. As I crept toward him, I readied the katana for a stab into his side. A stone turned under my foot, and the wolf whipped around, leaping straight for my face.

As I ducked down, I raised my left hand and caught the fur of his throat in my grasp. The force of his attack bowled me over onto my back, but I kept my left arm stiff. Because of my hold on his pelt, he could not reach me with his teeth. Keeping him at arm’s length exposed his soft underbelly to me, and I took advantage of it. My longsword fell to the ground, and I drew my dagger. Blood and intestinal contents splashed onto my greaves before I could kick his body off my small blade.

On my knees, I looked forward and back, listening for other enemies. Silence met my ears, and I sheathed the dagger, picking up my katana. I retreated back to my hiding place and cast another detection spell. No pink glows this time. The range of my spell was limited, but it allowed me to see what was near.

Further down the passageway, I entered a misty cavern. I must be below the level of the lake, I realized, looking at the thick vapor covering the floor. A soughing noise drew my attention to the left side of the cavern. Ghost! Damn! My plain katana would be useless against it. Putting the katana away, I drew Daedra Slayer and crept forward, feeling my way across the uneven ground toward the undead. It turned around, facing my direction. I dropped down into the fog bank, but the ghost appeared to have missed me. It floated past me, so close I could feel the cold death emanating off the spirit. Crouched, I took a long step behind it and stabbed with the enchanted blade. Fire consumed the ghost, as it dissolved into a blob of ectoplasm on the floor.

I scooped up some of the ectoplasm into an empty vial. It’ll make a good poison. I secured the bottle and placed it back in my pouch. Still on my knee, I listened for a few moments more and was rewarded by footsteps off to the right of the cavern. Boots. Not bones, creature or ghost. I replaced Daedra Slayer at my back, and started moving toward the sound, my own booted feet silent on the stone floor.

When I was close enough to hear the breathing, the other stopped, turning slowly. I could see the slender form of a Breton in the faint torch light. “Who’s there?” she called softly, her voice sensuous. “Wolf? I can smell you. Why did you come down here, boy?”

I realized she could smell the blood and guts from the wolf, splattered on my greaves. With a frown I wondered how she could scent it with the damp air and the overpowering stench of decay.

“What did you catch, wolf?” she whispered, moving slowly toward me. I remained still. “Did you leave me some?” The short hairs on the back of my neck rose as I listened to her voice. “Come here, boy,” she whistled. “Ah, I can smell you, so close now,” she sighed, stepping into the torch light.

My eyes widened at the sight of the glittering fangs in the woman’s mouth, and I stifled the gasp in my throat. Vampire! She stopped, her eyes arrowing at me, where I hid in the shadows. “You!” she hissed. “Where is my pet?”

Concentrating on a ball of fire, I flung my most basic fireball spell at her. It wouldn’t be strong enough to disable her, but that was not my intention. Domina Incendia would be so much more effective, and a better use of my magicka. But I needed time and distance to call my atronach.

As soon as the flames left my fingers, I flung myself to the right, rolling behind some boulders. My eyes closed, I pictured the voluptuous daedra into being. The purple flare and swooshing sound told me my spell was successful, and I kept moving. While Domina Incendia flung fireballs at the Breton vampire, I sheathed my plain katana and pulled Daedra Slayer from my back. Domina Incendia did her job and kept the Breton occupied long enough for me to move up behind her. A stab into the back of her thigh was sufficient to finish off the vampire.

Thank Akatosh Martin used the fire damage sigil stone on this, I thought as the corpse shriveled rapidly into dust. I searched her remains, taking some of the fine ashy powder. A ring was in her purse, a silver circle that glowed with a faint blue gleam. I slipped it on my right ring finger, curious to see what the enchantment was.

The dark cavern flashed into clear vision, only everything was blue. Disoriented, I blinked and looked around, amazed at the clear detail I could see. Night eye. Only problem, I can’t see my shadows. In places like this, I had learned the hard way to maximize the dark places to my advantage. Still, the ring would be useful to reconnoiter new areas before moving into them. I spotted another cavern opening off of this one, and another form moving about near a bright glow that must be a fire. The ring back in my palm, I found my shadows and returned to them, moving on.

In this manner, using a combination of detection spells and the enchanted ring, I was able to locate several vampires moving through the passageways and chambers of the cavern. Domina Incendia and Daedra Slayer kept busy keeping those despicable creatures away from me, taking advantage of the vampire’s intrinsic weakness to fire.

Finally, in the last chamber I searched, I found the whole point of this expedition. The tall Altmer, clad in Elven armor, paced restlessly around a pile of shattered coffins and decaying body parts. After a quick scan of the cavern revealed no other enemies nearby, I straightened up and stepped out of the shadows. Seridur stopped and turned in my direction.

“Hello, Seridur,” I spoke quietly.

“I knew you didn’t have it in you to slay Jenseric,” the Altmer sneered at me, drawing a Dwarven claymore. “So I’ll have to kill you, then find Jenseric and do it myself.”

“You lied to me,” my left fingers twitched, heat building up in them concurrently with my anger. “Jenseric is no vampire.” My blood boiled as I thought of how Seridur had used me to do his dirty work, just as he had framed an innocent man for the death of his prey.

Seridur shrugged nonchalantly, then dashed to my left, faster than my eye could follow. I flung myself forward in time to avoid his lunge at me. My hurled flare missed, but made him flinch. That gave me time to call on Domina Incendia once more. She ran after Seridur, sending more powerful fireballs sailing everywhere. He was very fast, but my atronach managed to keep him away from me long enough for me to slide to the wall.

Risky maneuver, cutting down on my mobility. But I’ve got to cover my back somehow. I can’t let Seridur get behind me. The Altmer was amazingly fast and agile. He managed to duck every one of Domina Incendia’s fire spells, and when she faded away, he turned on me. I waited, Daedra Slayer ready, until he was within blade range, then feinted a stab. When he side-stepped to my left, I turned the stab into a swing.

I’ve only to contact him with the blade - the fire enchantment will slow him down. But he’s got the reach on me. Watch that claymore. It can crush my bones through my mail easy.

The large Dwarven blade blocked my lighter enchanted katana, and Seridur flicked it away easily. The finely wrought steel of my sword sang discordantly as I tried to recover. That claymore rose, then descended towards me in a blur of motion. Leaping away from the wall, I spun into Seridur’s body and kicked him hard on the instep.

His breath hissed, and he staggered back. I moved with him to stay within the arc of his blade, and reversed my grip on the hilt of Daedra Slayer to slice into his thigh. Fire bloomed along the blade, fed on his flesh.

Seridur screamed, and elbowed me away. I landed on my back, sliding into a stalagmite hard enough to knock the breath out of my lungs. A couple of ribs snapped in the middle of my back. Seridur followed, limping from the burning wound in his left thigh, and changed his grip on the claymore so it was pointing down, at my chest.

With a groan, I leveraged myself off the rock spire and slid sideways, backhanding the enchanted blade into his right thigh. As the blade pulled clear I avoided the descending claymore and spun back to stab my weapon into Seridur’s groin. A wrench of the tip of the burning sword managed to sever the large blood vessel in the inner thigh. Fire and blood sprayed out of the wound, the burning liquid splashing across my face. Turning away, I wiped frantically at it. Cacat! Nearly got in my eyes! Almost as quickly as it had burned, the fire went out, leaving my left cheek hot with pain.

As I whirled around, I saw Seridur collapse into a pile of ash, his claymore clattering against the stalagmite before falling to the ground. I stayed on my feet for a few seconds more, before I, too, fell down, shaking as my natural adrenaline drained away.

Posted by: D.Foxy Oct 7 2010, 04:57 PM

That was an EXCELLENT description of hand to hand fighting, and showed a very good tactical knowledge as well.

Have you been spending time in a dojo?

Posted by: SubRosa Oct 7 2010, 05:32 PM

Concerning the Count, also keep in mind that he had his wife murdered by the Dark Brotherhood to get rid of her (the latter is not stated openly, just extremely strongly implied). Nice guy.

so close I could feel the cold death emanating off the spirit
This is a particularly nice turn of phrase. I see Julian does much better against ghosts than Teresa!

An exciting showdown with Seridur. I like how you emphasized his vampiric strength and speed.


nits:
The first vampire Julian faces starts off as a Bosmer, then later you describe her as a Breton. I think she was supposed to be a Breton all the way through?

Posted by: mALX Oct 7 2010, 06:57 PM

I loved how you wrote Julian's reaction when she first realized the girl was a vampire - so perfectly natural and believable !!!!

Her initial entry into the cave was intriguingly written - I pictured someone having to do that on an unused cave. Unsure how Seridor got in regularly, maybe the boarded up door was a false front? Anyway, I really liked the thought of her having to break into a cave by removing boards and squeezing in - that detail was easily visualized and a brilliant idea.

You had several of those descriptors (always do in your stories) that really bring the reader in to being able to envision the story as it unfolds - one of the huge pleasures of reading your writing !!!

Posted by: treydog Oct 8 2010, 01:20 AM

This one certainly set my heart racing. Your descriptions of spell-casting, combat, and Julian's tactical decisions were incredible.

I do hope she has a Cure Disease potion handy, after getting splashed by Seridur's burning blood....

Posted by: mALX Oct 8 2010, 01:52 AM

GAAAAH !!!! I didn't think of that !!!!! ARGH !!!!

Posted by: Acadian Oct 8 2010, 02:59 AM

Wonderfully done, Rider! The pacing, feel, tenseness was beautifully woven here to leave me with a pounding heart.

Your specifics were clever and rich as well:
Switching to a dagger while 'hugging' the wolf.
Optimizing fire against the vampires.
Forcing herself to fight the claymore user up very close to negate the very long range of his weapon and in fact, use it against him.
Wonderful use of the flame atronach.
Realizing she needed her enchanted blade to fight the ghost.
And, well, you get the idea - great stuff all wrapped into a beautiful spooky atmosphere.

I loved how you gave the Breton vampire a personality as she searched for her 'pet'.

Julian is truly a force to be reckoned with. You have built her into this so slowly and gradually, that is seems the most natural thing on Nirn. Both Uriel and Martin chose wisely in seeing the potential in Julian.

Again, wonderful!

Posted by: Destri Melarg Oct 8 2010, 09:39 AM

Tactically speaking, Julian’s foray through Memorial Cave is a primer on the techniques of the battlemage when fighting vampires. Redguards all over the Alik'r are turning in their graves!

One thing that struck me during the incredibly well-described duel with Seridur is that we are finally seeing Julian in combat at full strength (or at least as close to full strength as she has been since this story began). I can’t imagine that there are many in Cyrodiil who can stand toe to toe with a claymore-swinging boss vampire and live to tell the tale. If the flame atronach she summons is Domina Incendia, does that mean that when Julian gains the skill to cast it, the storm atronach will be Dominus Tempestuous?

I must bow to your superior knowledge of lupine sensory perception. I know from my own experience that hiding from a dog that is actively trying to sniff me out is next to impossible. I must assume that Julian benefits from some insight that is beyond me.

And please tell me that Julian has a cure disease potion!

Posted by: haute ecole rider Oct 9 2010, 04:13 PM

@SageRose: Good catch on the Bosmer/Breton. It was supposed to be Breton! Fixed!

@mALX: Thank you - I love the descriptions meself. My favorite stories are the ones that put me there. So I’m just passing it on, so to speak.

@treydog: Not to worry, Julian’s already a step ahead of you.

@Acadian: Yes, that segment was packed with detail! And to think that it was all from memory! I haven’t fired up the game in over nine months - been too focused on writing. But all of my PC’s have done that quest, so it’s very familiar ground to me by now.

@Destri: That claymore wasn’t what scared Julian in that fight, it was Seridur’s speed and agility. I don’t know yet what her next summons would be, but I’m sure she’ll come up with a neat name for it.

It seems like only last week that I started the third thread, and now it’s time to begin the fourth already. Thanks to all of you who have read, and those of you who have commented on Old Habits Die Hard. Your continued enthusiasm and support are much, much appreciated. It’s so nice to know that others see Julian as I see her.

Here is the link to the fourth thread:
http://chorrol.com/forums/index.php?showtopic=4523

Posted by: minque Oct 10 2010, 10:29 PM

Closed...