Jerric's Story, A Nord's Adventures in Cyrodiil Options

[Acadian]

What a fun episode! Jerric’s opening reflections upon stepping out of the MG into the cold early morn briefly, but very naturally, reminded us of the road Jerric has traveled to date.

The banter between Jerric and Kjestrid was great – especially the continuing perception regarding his gender preferences.

Jerric fits in with this FG crowd just perfectly. A walk of shame, cup of joe and a brawl. With a run coming next, Jerric is certainly getting his exercise. He is indeed lucky that he has his lucky boots of speed. Like ghastley, I found it nice to remember the story behind those boots.

[haute ecole rider]

It was enjoyable to see Jerric again.

Walk of shame indeed! And half-dressed to boot! Brr!

Loved this line about the FG:

The door swung shut on his heels and stayed closed. It seemed a brawl before breakfast did not gain much notice at the Bruma Fighters Guild.

And that's how they build teamwork in the Fighters Guild!

[SubRosa]

Good to know that the Nords of the 3rd Era still don't care for them Heartlander Ways! At least Jerric's 'cover' is still intact. In spite of who was really doing the tugging...

A brawl before breakfast. Now that is one way to get the blood flowing!

The situation was dire. Any kind of cheating would be acceptable.
Well spoken!

[Darkness Eternal]

Took you long enough Grits

We begin with Jerric doing the walk of shame. I really like Kjestrid. She has a very likable personality and her words ring true: "A man is judged by his deeds, not by his rings and robes.”

Jerric trying to play dumb was priceless, having never heard that Nordic expression before.

What I like about this is that you often go back to Jerric's Anvil days and you add something special into these episodes. The humor and dialogue is great, and the brawl was good, too. That's how Nords do it!!

[Colonel Mustard]

I had a good time reading these last few chapters, and I'd forgotten just how much sheer entertainment Jerric and co could provide. The assumptions made about him and Darnand over at the Mages Guild is both funny and also kind of cute, and I like the way the walk of shame was twisted up, with Jerric walking the Walk, but Kjestrid thinking he was walking from a different place and person.

The morning punch up at the Fighter's Guild seemed like a good day to start the day, and now it's off to Echo Cave and Cloud Ruler Temple!

[Destri Melarg]

I. AM. FINALLY. CAUGHT. UP!

51 pages! Wow, Grits, you are certainly prodigious. You’re like a rabbit... who writes!! I have to laugh when I think that way back when you didn’t consider yourself a writer. How about now? I certainly hope that you don’t consider yourself anything less!

For the sake of brevity and because forty+ pages worth of ‘this is what I liked about x chapter’ would need a thread all its own, I’ll keep my comments confined to the Bruma Guilds. I love the consistent first impression that Jerric always seems to make with new people. I see he and Selena hit it off immediately! I was a bit infatuated with Lildereth when I first met her, but now it has gotten bad. I mean ‘restraining order’ bad. you’re going to have to give her greenspore, ticklebritch, or witbane just to take the edge off for me!

Why does everyone gang up on Jeanne Frasoric? She may be an incompetent little social climber, but at least she has a good disposition. Maybe she does lord it over Volanaro and J’Skar... but, from what I’ve seen of the two of them, they need to be lorded over a little.

Jerric’s conversation with Alga literally made my head hurt... in a good way! I like the detail you’ve added about Honmund’s straying. In my experience though it seems to be Alga who is getting around. She goes on and on about being Honmund’s woman, even as she spends most of my game standing outside Arnora’s house... even after I’ve killed Arnora. Think she’s waiting for Jorundr to get out of the dungeons?

Awww, Bumph is adorable, in a she-hulk kind of way. Like hautee I geniunely regret missing the way it read before you changed it. Sex in the training area with Right-Wind watching might be a little too... cosmopolitan for Bruma (and for Jerric, now that I think about it). Nice to see that the estrogen brigade around here still makes such sport out of male suffering. You know they didn’t come up with the name ‘blue balls’ because it’s not a thing (poor Jerric)!

Something else that struck me in this chapter is how precise you have become in your writing. You were able to breath life into Bugshat (that name will live with me forever now thankyouverymuch) in less space than this comment about him has taken. There are people right now getting paid to write who can’t do that!

The culmination of the Bruma recommendation quest was an absolute riot! I don’t know what part I liked best. Maybe it was Jerric and Volanaro’s conversation after the fact. Lost in all the humor though was the typically brilliant way you set up the ultimate fate of the Bruma Guild. I imagine that, at some point, Camilla’s dire threats are going to come back to haunt bubbly Jeanne. She certainly appears to be rearranging deck chairs summoning scamps on the deck of Titanic.

Jerric’s interlude in the brothel was as satisfying a read as it was, well, satisfying for Jerric. Acadian’s comment had me rolling! One thing that bothered me a little was Jerric’s ‘attitude’ once he left the brothel. I’m sure that, faced with the opportunity, Jerric would have jumped in front of a grizzly if it meant shielding Carla and her unborn child. A man doesn’t do that for someone he has promptly ‘forgotten.’

Edit: Well, as I think about it, maybe Jerric would. I withdraw the complaint.

“Loredas,” Jaan muttered into his kahve. He snorted.

Jerric thumped his mug onto the counter. “Right. Let’s go.”

…

Should have buckled my boots, Jerric thought, dumping ice out of one. Jaan reached out to steady him when he wobbled. A slap on the shoulder confirmed peace between them. He couldn’t remember why he hadn’t liked the man.

Yeah, like buckling his boots would have helped!

A good thrashing and then a slap on the shoulder, no better way to seal a friendship!

The fun you have writing this comes across in every sentence, Gritsy! Sorry it's taken me so long.

This post has been edited by Destri Melarg: Oct 8 2014, 08:58 AM

[Darkness Eternal]

This story deserves a bump . . .

To remind dear Grits to continue Jerric and Darnand's story.

[Grits]

Previously: Bruma. Jerric spent the night in Darnand’s chamber at the Mages Guild and bumped into Kjestrid on the way back to the Fighters Guild the next morning. She invited him to go for a run before breakfast. Jerric and Jaan (of the Basement) had a tussle in the snow.


McBadgere: Thank you, McB! I have a few male friends who I suspect would get along better if they would just wrestle it out of their systems. Here’s more story, finally, and I’ve worked the trouble spots out of my outline hopefully for good. Let’s see how far we get this time.

ghastley: You have anticipated an event in this update! (Sorry it took so long to actually post it.) Thank you, ghastley!

Acadian: Thank you! Jerric has a lot to keep track of when he talks to Kjestrid, the poor guy.

haute ecole rider: I expect that two Nords measuring each up would be as common as dogs sniffing butts in Bruma. Thank you, haute!

SubRosa: Thank you, SubRosa! Jerric’s cover story needs all the help it can get, even accidental. He would not have gotten far submitting an application to become a Blades agent!

Darkness Eternal: I’m glad that Kjestrid comes across as likable. She’s a decent, straightforward, reliable person with no reason to be mean to anyone. Jerric really hadn’t heard that expression before. His parents took pains to leave Skyrim behind, so by the time Jerric came along there was very little Nordic spoken in their household. Thank you for the bump!

Colonel Mustard: Thank you, Mustard! This has been a fun part of the story, with nothing sinister immediately at hand. The Bruma MG recommendation is a ready source of hilarity. A morning punch up is Jerric’s second-favorite way to start any day.

Destri Melarg: Woo, I’m so delighted that you’re back! As you have discovered, this story has not been setting speed records lately. I know someone who would be delighted to give Lildereth a dose of ticklebritch to take the edge off for you. I personally feel for Jeanne who has to operate in Cyrodiil’s least magical city while dealing with a couple of goofballs in her ranks. Still, she accepted the job! You are completely correct that Jerric has not forgotten pregnant Carla. Jerric-‘forgotten’ means he would jump in front of a grizzly exactly the way you described. I should have said she left his mind as soon as he stepped (freshly unburdened) out of the… darnit, I forgot the name of the brothel. It is an absolute joy to have readers who think about the characters and call things as they see them when a character is inconsistent. Thank you so much, Destri!

Everyone: Thank you for bearing with my glacial pace lately. I love the community created here by people talking about and supporting each other’s characters and stories. You folks are awesome.


Next: Jerric goes on a morning run with Kjestrid and Jaan (of the Basement). Then he finally gets out of Bruma.

[Grits]

.

Chapter 17: Bruma, Part Nine

Kjestrid’s morning run with Jaan turned out to be a warmup down through the terraces followed by a jog back up all the way to Castle Bruma. It might have helped if Jerric had needed to break in new boots, but otherwise it did not serve to much improve his conditioning. Or Kjestrid’s, Jerric suspected. Jaan, however, had little wind left when they reached the castle. By then Jerric had abandoned reasoning why and simply settled in to watch Kjestrid’s haunches shift under her tunic.

When they turned at the top Jerric paused to look out over the city. Pale pink brightened the clouds over the mountains. Jerric thought of that morning at Cloud Ruler Temple when he had watched Magnus appear over Morrowind. His path this day would take him to Martin. The thought drew him like a lodestone, but left him unsettled rather than centered.

Jaan’s breath cloud began to dissipate. Jerric followed his fellow guild members back down to their hall.

When they reached the Fighters Guild, Kjestrid led them around to the back under the roof’s broad overhang. She and Jaan skinned out of their clothing without ceremony.

Jerric followed suit. He dropped his clothes on a bench next to his boots, picked up a double handful of snow and scrubbed his skin with it, managing not to squeal like an Imperial. He paused when the two ducked into the guild’s sweat lodge.

“There’s no steam unless you make it,” Kjestrid explained over her shoulder. “The heat will dry you off.”

Until I start sweating, Jerric thought, his eyes full of naked Kjestrid. He followed them into the hut and took a seat next to Jaan.

Kjestrid sat down across from them. She leaned back with a sigh, as unselfconscious as a wood elf.

Jerric decided he could get away with one more look. Now that’s a bush, he thought. Thank you, Mother Kyne. Kjestrid’s belly lacked that little fold of skin over the navel that spoke of childbearing. Her breasts confirmed his estimate of her youth. It was harder to guess with the slender races, but gravity took an early toll on Nordic women.

“Where’d you get that?” Kjestrid asked. She pointed at the triple leaf design inked on Jerric’s outer thigh.

“Sutch. Summer of ’23 my team won the tri-city championship.”

“Stickball?” asked Jaan.

“Hogball.”

“You’re small for a hogball player,” Jaan observed.

“Maybe in Skyrim,” said Jerric. “I played for Anvil.” Sweat began to prickle his chest. “What’s..?” he asked Kjestrid, gesturing along his ribs to demonstrate.

She turned and lifted her arm so he could see the tattoo running down her right side. “Moth.” Her fingers traced the shape nearly hidden within the patterns. After a moment she turned to show him the tattoo on her left side. He didn’t need help to see the fox, its head angled over her hip and tail curled back along her shoulder blade.

“Kjestrid gave me this one,” said Jaan, pointing to the bear symbol on his gut.

Given the invitation to look Jerric now noticed parallel raised ridges under the tattoo. They ran from Jaan’s hip up to the spot where Jerric had managed to land a punch. “How’d you get the scar?” he asked.

“Bear,” said Jaan, demonstrating with hooked fingers. He laughed.

Jerric leaned back against the boards, sharing a grin with Kjestrid. His heart suddenly felt like home.

“Is that a wolf?” Kjestrid asked him.

Jerric rubbed the brand on his chest. The Running Wolf logo looked nothing like the Black Wolf of Kvatch, but he floundered for an answer that wouldn’t lead in the wrong direction.

“Yeah,” he managed. “It was uh, an initiation thing.”

Kjestrid twisted around and lifted a hip to expose one rosy cheek. “So was this.”

“Gods,” said Jerric.

“Frost troll,” said Kjestrid, pointing at the scar.

Jerric found himself at a loss again. “What the hells? You were bitten on the backside by a frost troll? What kind of initiation was that?”

“My first job for the Guild!” Kjestrid slapped it and laughed. “They sent me after rats, but that’s not what I found.”

“Rats!” said Jerric. “I thought that was just for me.”

“She was still wet behind the ears then,” Jaan told him. “When did the Guild give you your rat job?”

“Few weeks ago.” Jerric admitted. “I’ve, uh… Yeah. Uh. Since then.” He leaned forward and put his face in his hands. This was getting less relaxing by the minute.

“What about that scar?” Kjestrid asked.

Jerric didn’t need to look to know which one she meant. A dremora’s mace had broken through the plate over his sword arm, pushing jagged metal through to the bone. The wound had festered in the Deadlands. Abiene hadn’t yet managed to dissolve all of the ash. Sometimes it ached with memory when he woke in the night.

“Jealous husband,” he said. “I’m going outside.”

Kjestrid and Jaan joined him while he stood cooling off beside the bench. She was right, Jerric thought. That was as good as a swim, and no need for soap.

A furry face poked out the kitchen door. “The pink ones burn daylight,” Shamir-do called.

Jerric followed the other pink ones at a trot down a back staircase and into the living quarters. A few moments’ hustle got him dressed and ready for arming. He left some of his gear in the cupboard for retrieval on his return, including his Blades helm. This close to Cloud Ruler Temple it was likely that it would be recognized, though he was tempted to find out what Jauffre would have to say if he strolled into the Great Hall wearing it.

Back in the main hall the smells of woodsmoke and breakfast had overcome the militia’s stink. Jerric placed his packs in the row of others on a table near the door. Rhea stood filling a plate at the sideboard. Jerric stepped up beside her. Kjestrid jogged down the stairs from Asgerd’s office as he scooped up some eggs.

“Twenty minutes,” Kjestrid said, joining them. She fluffed her hair with her fingers before she helped herself to breakfast.

Jerric noted Kjestrid’s leather armor. I’ll still wear my mail and plate, he decided. No telling where the path to the Temple will take me.

Jerric took enough fried potatoes to stick with him through any weather. He passed over the sliced ham in favor of thick-cut bacon. Bugshat had made rolls filled with cheese and sausage. Later they would be welcome additions to the Guild’s usual travel rations, so Jerric made a foundation of scrambled eggs on the other side of his plate and stacked a few on top. Then he reached back across Kjestrid and added a slice of ham after all, and then another. It took some fumbling at the end of the sideboard, but he managed to fill up a kahve mug for her. She gave him a crinkle-eyed smile when he handed it to her.

Gjaever and Shamir-do had nearly finished their meals by the time Jerric sat with Kjestrid at their table. He tucked the rolls into his pockets and devoted himself wholly to the appreciation of Bugshat’s efforts. Jerric doubted that his trail rations would include crisp bacon, but he held out hope for another mutton sandwich. Kjellingsson of Anvil. Scorned by smiths, beloved of cooks, he chuckled to himself.

After breakfast Jerric returned to the basement workshop where his gear waited on an arming stand. Jaan sat at a bench repairing a mail shirt. A teenaged Orsimer lass and a tall Imperial man labored nearby.

A sheathed sword lay on a bench next to Jerric’s armor. Redeemer.

“I put an edge on it last night,” Jaan said to Jerric without looking over. “Could of done it yourself, if blades were your craft. I see you know how to use a mender’s hammer.”

Jerric ignored the bait. “Wearing down the edge is my craft.” He checked Jaan’s work while Jaan pretended not to watch. “Would you have let me leave here without it if you didn’t get your chance to drop me in the snow this morning?”

Jaan didn’t respond.

“Batul gra-Sharob’s make,” Jerric said, placing it back on the bench. “Of Kvatch. She lives.”

“Aye,” said Jaan. “I know her mark.” He met Jerric’s eyes for a moment. “Good hunting.”

Jerric made a final stop at the pumps to fill his waterskins before he reported to the staging area. Kjestrid pointed him toward a small pile of gear. Jerric stowed the rations in his pack and put the Guild surcoat on over his armor. Then he spent a moment considering the snowshoes.

Shamir-do’s and Gjaever’s were lashed to their packs. Jerric lifted his pack to the table and did the same. If his technique betrayed that he had never touched a snowshoe in his life, no one mentioned it.

Gjaever led the way out the door and through the streets. The other pedestrians made plenty of room for the group from the Fighters Guild. Outside the North Gate Shamir-do took the lead and Gjaever fell to the rear.

“We might meet Honmund on the road,” Kjestrid said to Jerric.

“Who the hells is Honmund?”

“Alga’s man.”

“Who the hells is… Oh, that blonde.” Jerric sighed. “Thanks for the… warning?”

“He rides a bay paint.”

Jerric simply nodded, unsure whether to encourage her. As pleasant as it was to hear Kjestrid speak, he’d rather not have to think so hard about what she was saying.

They took the road straight across the snowy fields north of the city until it curved west along the edge of the hill country. Jerric stopped with the others and dropped his pack when they did.

“Ever worn snowshoes before?” Kjestrid asked him.

“No.”

“I’ll show you.”

By the time Jerric got his boots bound to the shoes and his pack back on, Shamir-do had disappeared off the road into the trees.

“Just walk normally, heel to toe,” Kjestrid said. “Keep your stance a little wider, that’s all.”

“Got it.” Jerric demonstrated that he did get it by taking a few strides without tripping.

Gjaever muttered something that made Kjestrid laugh. “Yeah,” she said back. “Almost like he’s a Nord.”

Kjestrid took the lead. Jerric followed her through the open woodland, keeping to the track she made. He had seen blaze marks on trees in the Jerall foothills when he had wandered there in the summer. Now they seemed lower as they walked over the snow. Whether they marked a trail or warned of buried hazards, he couldn’t tell.

“Look there,” Kjestrid pointed at a rock arrangement. “That’s what we’re checking. The militia covers far more ground than we can. They’ll make the signal if there’s trouble.”

And one if all is well, Jerric thought. “It’s the same in Anvil.” His eyes kept moving out of habit, checking ground conditions and cover. He looked along the closest ridge running west to east ahead of them. I can follow that ridge to Rielle. Then I’ll find the path up to the Temple.

Shadows slowly shortened as they walked through the morning. Not long after Jerric had eaten his second sausage roll, Kjestrid held up a hand to stop them.

“Shamir-do,” she said.

The Khajiit appeared through the trees, running toward them. “A ring of fire,” he said as they closed. “Guarded by two Nords, and one down. Nords wear the mark of Bruma militia. Khajiit did not speak with them.” He lifted his knees high when he turned around.

Jerric noted the technique in case he needed it later. The cat’s snowshoes were much smaller than his and Gjaever’s, closer in size to Kjestrid’s. He felt part of himself disconnect while his senses seemed to sharpen.

“This is what we train for,” Kjestrid said. She sounded nothing like the cheerful woman from this morning.

Shamir-do led the way in silence across snow marked only by small animal tracks. He must have cut at an angle to find us, thought Jerric.

Within an hour he saw it. Just a glimmer on the ridge, almost lost between the trees. They were too far away to see red sky leaking through or smell the noxious clouds. Where they walked birds still sang of cold spring and Kyne smiled down through quickening branches.

“There,” said Jerric. “That’s a Gate to Oblivion.”

.

This post has been edited by Grits: Apr 22 2015, 03:21 PM

[ghastley]

Hot naked women, lots of food, ... must be a new Jerric story.

Wasn't it a good thing that nobody had any mudcrab scars?

One nit "No telling where the path the Temple will take me." Something got lost in there, maybe "to the Temple"? Through, beyond?

[haute ecole rider]

This isn't the first time I've noticed Jerric's fondness for nude Bosmer women. Guess he'd rather not eat a horse?

Comparing tats and scars! Of course! This is the FG, after all. I wonder if this is just an excuse for ogling each other's nakedness.

[Acadian]

Wonderful to see a new episode here! And thanks for the ‘Previously’ and ‘Next’ little summaries to get us right into things.

’She leaned back with a sigh, as unselfconscious as a wood elf.’ - -

’Jerric found himself at a loss again. “What the hells? You were bitten on the backside by a frost troll? What kind of initiation was that?” - -

’Kjellingsson of Anvil. Scorned by smiths, beloved of cooks,’ - - Yup, that’s our Jerric!

“Batul gra-Sharob’s make,” Jerric said, placing it back on the bench. “Of Kvatch. She lives.”
“Aye,” said Jaan. “I know her mark.” He met Jerric’s eyes for a moment. “Good hunting.”
- - This was a simple but wonderful exchange. As you know, Kvatch holds a special place in my heart, and your treatment of and references to it have always been beautiful.

’As pleasant as it was to hear Kjestrid speak, he’d rather not have to think so hard about what she was saying.’ - - Another ‘Yup, that’s our Jerric!’ passage!

The steam room and attending naked talk of scars and such was a great backdrop for the fun conversations there.

Thanks for the magnificent feed - I know that breakfast is one of Jerric's three favorite meals of the day. Not counting snacks of course.

I think snowshoes were a great idea for the trek north that followed.

Oh noes! An Oblivion Gate!

[Darkness Eternal]

I am happy you brought out another tale. As an active(or almost active) fellow forumite who hangs by this section, it is good to see Jerric continue his story. I can honestly say having him in the roleplays allowed a nice, soft spot for him and Darnand in my heart. And you're a great writer, too.

I have to say I absolutely loved the steam room. In lore, saunas and steam rooms are popular among the Nords and it was a custom that came and went in Cyrodiil. You present it nicely here.

The mouth isn't the only thing that tells stories, I see. Scars tell many tales, too, and often great ones . . . such as the troll bite on his backside. Ouch.

They were too far away to see red sky leaking through or smell the noxious clouds.

Vivid imagery here!

You left us with quite the hanger . . . a gate of Oblivion.

[Kazaera]

Heeey it's more Jerric this is fantastic I am delighted!

I have to say, watching Jerric attempt to be anything remotely resembling a covert operative is rather terrifying. The mind boggles that the Blades actually thought this would work. (Speaking of, I adore the fact that the Blades, in your story, really feel like this shadowy mysterious organisation of spies that Jerric has managed to blunder into and that he is often at loggerheads with). Thank everyone for Darnand thinking relatively quickly on his feet and the FG having an arrangement with the Blades and hence not asking questions, hmm...

Also, I really like what you're doing with Jerric as the Nord from Cyrodiil proper vs the Bruma Nords who are far closer to Skyrim customs - it's an interesting bit of tension you don't see very often and does ring quite true to my own experience of being an immigrant. I should note at this point that I haven't forgotten the hinted mystery re: Jerric's mother's family and something about their origin in Skyrim and am an expecting an eventual pay-off!

In general, I'm deeply curious to see where things go from here - particularly about how Jerric will do at Cloud Ruler Temple and, of course, what will happen with the Oblivion gate. And specifically re this update I have to say: naked sauna tattoo- and scar-sharing time! Only Nords.

This post has been edited by Kazaera: Apr 25 2015, 08:03 AM

[SubRosa]

I was laughing at the part about squealing like an Imperial! They were milk-drinkers even back in the 3rd Era!

Hogball? Is that played with a hog as the ball? Or with a ball from a hog?

Rats? Why is it always rats with the Fighters Guild!

Well that was a pleasant morning with the Fighters Guild, and the gravity-resistant Kjestrid. Right up until that ring of fire. Uh oh, we know what that is!

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Apr 25 2015, 05:54 PM

[Destri Melarg]

Ah, A new Jerric chapter that I don't have to come to months after the fact!

The morning run and steam would serve as the perfect introduction to Jerric and his world for anyone joining the story with this chapter. The comparing of scars and tatoos reminded me of the classic scene from Jaws, and is just as effective. Like SubRosa I loved the excellent 'squealing like an imperial' line.

Just one small nit:

Jerric decided he could get away with one more look. Now that’s a bush, he thought. Thank you, Mother Kyne.

This is a perfect invocation!

Where they walked birds still sang of cold spring and Kyne smiled down through quickening branches.

This one doesn't work quite as well. The sentence structure is fantastic, and the imagery is downright poetic. But the 'quickening branches' just don't give us enough evidence of Kyne smiling. It occurs to me that if you were denoting Kyne's smile as the play of cold spring wind through those branches then the passage does work... albeit subtly (which, I admit, may have been the point). However, the 'smile' of nature makes me think you were referring more to Magnus tyhan Kyne. Just a thought.

[mALX]

Gaaaah, you put up a chapter that I missed seeing! I still can't read, but seeing the screenshots of Jerric married and all the new characters tells me I am missing a lot in the lives of Jerric and Darnand! I can still remember his beginning chapters; and the first time an enemy used Frenzy on him in a dungeon and he attacked Darnand and Lildereth !!!! I love your characters and your writing, really miss it (and them) a lot.

My husband and son won't read Fics to me; and the voice software I use on my computer is really hard to understand and robotic sounding - trying to use it for reading a story is impossible. But I wanted you to know I'll always be a fan of Jerric's story, and I am really loving seeing him in Tamriel (ESO).

[McBadgere]

Gaaaah, you put up a chapter that I missed seeing! I still can't read, but seeing the screenshots of Jerric married and all the new characters tells me I am missing a lot in the lives of Jerric and Darnand! I can still remember his beginning chapters; and the first time an enemy used Frenzy on him in a dungeon and he attacked Darnand and Lildereth !!!! I love your characters and your writing, really miss it (and them) a lot.

My husband and son won't read Fics to me; and the voice software I use on my computer is really hard to understand and robotic sounding - trying to use it for reading a story is impossible. But I wanted you to know I'll always be a fan of Jerric's story, and I am really loving seeing him in Tamriel (ESO).

You've improved a lot then, given how much you manage to read and write for the ESO section... ...


Aaaamywho...



GRITSEH!!!... ...

Very very much enjoyed this chapter...

The whole comparing battle scars thing was pretty cool...I also loved the way that getting nekkid with relative strangers was no problem, but the talking about stuff got increasingly uncomfortable for Jerric... ...

I had to go get me own breakfast after reading that list of food...We're on our way out for a trip today and I was tempted to write out that list for McWife to pack for me too... ...

Wonderfully done that!...

Properly loved this whole chapter, and it's nice to be back and delving (to as much a degree as ma brain can handle anyways) into the fan-fics again...

Awesome!!!...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

[Grits]

Previously: Bruma. Jerric left on the Fighters Guild Echo Cave patrol with Kjestrid, Gjaever, and Shamir-do intending to leave the group near Rielle and go to his meeting at Cloud Ruler Temple. On the way they found a Gate to Oblivion.


ghastley: Maybe Kjestrid’s butt scar was a mudcrab bite and she came up with a better story. Thanks for spotting that nit, I fixed it.

haute ecole rider: Jerric is a big fan of nude Bosmeri women. And he says that he’s the horse!

Acadian: The breakfast was for you as much as for the FG – it’s been too long since the last meal! Thank you for drawing attention to that moment between Jerric and Jaan. That was the highpoint of the episode for me, even with naked Nords everywhere. I got to learn a little about snowshoes for this one. Like Jerric, I’ve never worn a pair. Thank you, Acadian!

Darkness Eternal: Thank you for the welcome back, DE! It’s been too long since I focused on this story. I still enjoy reading back through those roleplays. I made sure I read up on Cyrodiil steam rooms before I wrote this, because I was sure you would know about them!

Kazaera: My writing project last November was the first part of Jerric’s family’s Skyrim origin story. I have to wrap up Jerric’s colossal Oblivion story first, but his parents’ (much shorter) story is on the way. I’m glad that the culture clash between Jerric and the northern Nords rings true for you. Jerric notices a lot but ponders very little, so I always wonder if things are coming across. Thank you, Kazaera!

SubRosa: Hogs’ balls, yikes! It is indeed always rats with the Fighters Guild. I couldn’t resist carrying that tradition into Kjestrid’s first FG job. Maybe Kjestrid knows a feather charm for her chest. Time will tell. Thank you, SubRosa!

Destri: That Jaws scene is one of my favorite bonding scenes ever, especially the moment when Brody decides not to show off his appendix scar. I agree about not invoking Kyne in the second passage. I meant that the pleasant early spring breeze and clear skies indicated Kyne’s enjoyment of the season’s new life. Jerric thinks of Kyne as dwelling in the sky more than being the sky and the weather as her mood. He is no theologian, but his concept of Magnus is sort of beyond while Kyne is in his mind very connected to his everyday existence. But I think it’s too soon after the first mention for someone who is not very religious, even though being in Bruma reminds him of his Nord-ness. I’m still pondering a different way to put it. Thank you, Destri!

mALX: Jerric is still single, so you may not have missed as much as you thought. Was it Valdi’s Skyrim wedding pictures that you saw? She is fifteen in this story, half Jerric’s age. In her Skyrim game she’s married to Erik the Slayer. Thanks, mALX!

McBadgere: I’m glad you picked up on Jerric’s Nordic ease with nudity at the same time he struggled with keeping up his deception. Jerric has a blended cultural background, but some of his attitudes are pure Nord. He’s usually only surrounded by Nords when he’s with family. Being around more Nords than usual makes Jerric feel more like who he is at the same time he has to remember to pretend to be who he’s not. Bruma is bringing up mixed emotions. Thank you, McB!


Next: The Gate.

[Grits]

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Chapter 17: Bruma, Part Ten

As the sunlight failed, the noise increased. Grey clouds made a ceiling not far above the trees, lit from below by the howling Gate and from within by flashes of lightning. Jerric felt his chest compress. That smell… His eyes burned with memory. This time the fume held a thin note of pine. Jagged stumps stuck out of the snow near the Gate, and splintered timbers poked out of the drifts all around. He stepped carefully.

Two Nords in furs stood guard within a circle of trampled snow. A third figure lay dead, arms crossed over her chest. A shattered shield rested on her belly. Two clannfears and a dremora sprawled in dark stains nearby.

Kjestrid called to Jerric, “Stay back.” She moved forward with Shamir-do at her side. The Khajiit’s nocked arrow pointed at the ground.

Gjaever stepped up to Jerric’s right.

“Those kids aren’t the enemy,” Jerric said. He shrugged off his pack and began to sort his gear.

Kjestrid beckoned the two back to Gjaever and Jerric. The Gate’s whine nearly drowned out her words. “Thursten Long-Eye,” she said to the shorter one. “Report.”

Jerric estimated Thursten was yet in his teens. The lad’s eyes were red and running, but his raised voice sounded firm. “We found it this morning. Hard to say how long ago. The sun was well up over the ridge. We snuck up and shot those two beasts, but the man thing wouldn’t go down. It killed Jytte when she got too close. Marsten broke its knee. When we were done Jytte was already gone.”

“Where’s Marsten now?”

Thursten hawked out a wad of phlegm. “Went to put the marker out and warn the village.”

Jerric had heard enough. “Give me all of your water. Don’t let anyone else in after I go through. It may take three or four days on this side, but I’m going to close this Gate. Anyone who goes in after me will get stuck in there when it closes.” Probably.

“We don’t have the skins to carry four days’ worth of water,” Kjestrid told him.

“Time is different there,” Jerric said. “Won’t feel like more than a day or so to me on the other side. Come on, hand them over. I’ll take your food, too. Everything I won’t have to cook.”

“Will the other side be guarded?” Kjestrid asked.

“Maybe. Sometimes.” Jerric took the opportunity to empty his bladder. Gjaever did the same.

“Go back and report,” Kjestrid told Shamir-do. The Khajiit executed a neat turn and started back the way they had come.

“Wait,” Jerric said.

“Wait!” Kjestrid called to Shamir-do. She glanced at Gjaever and then back at Jerric. “Go ahead.”

Jerric sorted out his words while he finished buckling.

“I can reach Darnand. With my mind. With magic. What’s your message?”

Kjestrid looked like she was arguing with herself.

Jerric snorted. “If you don’t trust my friend, send your cat. It’s the same to me.”

“Tell him to find Asgerd,” Kjestrid said. “She’ll coordinate our support. Make sure he doesn’t fetch it up.” She turned to the villagers. “You two move the bodies out of sight and take cover. If something comes out that you can’t kill, then don’t die trying. Thursten, you track it. Svaknar, you keep watch. Like he said, no one else goes through after us.”

“There’s no support for this,” Jerric told Kjestrid. “I go in and I might come out, that’s it. There’s no us. If you charge in there like you’re the Legion, you get noticed and die. I’ve seen it.”

Thursten and Svaknar began carrying out their orders. Shamir-do filled his canteen from one handed to him by the militia members.

“Thanks,” Jerric said to him, reaching to take the water.

“Khajiit will fill this one’s skins next,” Shamir-do said. He hung his own from the loop on his pack.

“No way,” said Jerric. “You’ll make too much noise. I’m not taking you in there with me.”

“Hah!” said Kjestrid. “We all hunt. You’re the one who sounds like a tin peddler.”

Jerric noted that even the mountainous Gjaever wore the type of fur and leather protection approved of by Lildereth. He was the only one in plate and mail.

“You should help them hold this side,” Jerric said. “And if you can’t hold it, make sure that Bruma is warned.”

Kjestrid was busy with her gear. She spoke without looking up. “There’s no discussion.”

I don’t want to see these people die. He tried another approach. “If you fall in there, that’s where you’ll stay. I won’t drag you out. I don’t know what’ll happen to your soul. I don’t even know if that’s Dagon’s realm. It could be anywhere.”

“Aye,” Kjestrid shot back. “It could be the Hunting Grounds or Moonshadow, or maybe just some wizard’s tower. There’s a portal in Niben Bay they say leads to the realm of Madness, but who knows? I can tell you this, though. I know my orders. We’ll be getting you out alive, ‘Kjellingsson of Anvil.’ Are you ready yet, or do you want to run your mouth some more?”

Kjestrid’s brows were drawn down and her jaw stuck out. Jerric suspected she was trying to keep her teeth from chattering.

“All right,” said Jerric. “But dump your extra gear. We won’t need snowshoes on bare rock and sand, and we’ll surely need to run.”

“We’ll take them,” Kjestrid said. “Unless there’s a general goods outfit on the other side there’s no such thing as extra. Carry your weight, Anvil.”

Jerric thought of the times he could have used a splint or a spare set of laces. He finished securing his gear by lashing the snowshoes to his pack. “I’m going to tell Darnand what’s going on. What should I say about, uh, our location?”

“We’re two miles east of the Maiden Spring trail, right below the first ridge. They’ll find it. Tell him to say ‘ragged’ to Asgerd. Otherwise they won’t take him seriously.”

“Mage,” Shamir-do explained.

“Make sure he informs the Fighters Guild first,” Kjestrid said. “They know what to do.”

No one knows what to do, thought Jerric. That’s why you’re listening to me.

It took several moments to get Darnand’s attention. Jerric broke off the contact as soon as the Breton repeated his message. This was no time to think about what he could lose.

“I’ll go in first,” he told them. “Just walk into the portal and you’ll come out the other side in the Deadlands. It looks like fire but it doesn’t burn. Duck your chin and look at your feet or you won’t be able to see for a few moments. Move to the side and get low once you’re through. Unless you see me killing something. Ha. Uh, and there might be a drop, so be ready for it.” He took a swig of Jerric’s Juice and stepped forward. Anticipation prickled over his skin.

Gjaever yanked him back as if he weighed no more than Darnand.

Jerric gave him a shove as soon as he could pull loose. “Put your hands on me again, snowback!”

“Save it,” Kjestrid said. “Shamir-do will go first. Then Anvil and me, then Gjaever. Can we return the same way we entered?” The last was directed at Jerric.

“That’s how it worked before.” Jerric pushed his anger back into its place. Keep your skitt together.

Kjestrid nodded to Shamir-do. The Khajiit drew his blades before he vanished into the portal.

The Gate’s whine made Jerric’s teeth ache. He dropped a knee to the ground and closed his eyes, reaching for that place inside that was calm because it was already over. Akatosh, lend me your strength. Shor, call me home.

“How long should we wait?” Kjestrid asked.

“We go now,” said Jerric.

Kjestrid blew out a breath. “Three days for one, right? We wait.”

When Shamir-do returned his ears were flat and his tail bushed like bottle brush. “Cold,” he called out.

The Khajiit looked unharmed. Jerric didn’t wait for Kjestrid’s command. He strode past Shamir-do and into the blinding Gate.

Cold air stung his face and lungs. Jerric coughed out his first breath in surprise. Grey clouds circled here, too. The light was wrong. So was the footing. What the hells is this?

“This one is pleased to have snowshoes,” Shamir-do said, his voice raised over the Gate’s noise. The others had joined him.

Jerric kicked at the ground. Pale grey powder gusted around his ankles, blown by a fitful wind. It wasn’t quite snow, but it wasn’t ash either. The land sloped away from the Gate on their side, but rocky hills rose above it at the rear. Dust clouded the near distance. Or was it fog? Even the smell here was different. Jerric moved down the hill away from the Gate until the shriek and glare didn’t overwhelm his senses.

“All right,” Kjestrid said. “Cold, not hot. What are we looking for?”

“A tower,” said Jerric. “With a column of fire running through the center. The sigil stone that holds the Gate open will be at the top of the tower. When we take it the column will collapse. We’ll ride the fire back out to county Bruma.”

Even Gjaever looked unhappy with that news.

“This one does not see a tower,” Shamir-do said. The Khajiit crouched down where he could watch the front. Gjaever moved around to the rear.

“Well?” Kjestrid asked.

“Give me a moment,” said Jerric.

Kjestrid spoke immediately. “We’ll stay within sight of the Gate. If we don’t see a tower at the limit, we’re going back through.”

“Deal,” Jerric said. You can go back through.

Kjestrid had managed to get uphill. She looked Jerric straight in the eyes. “It’s not a deal. That’s what we’re doing.” She made a gesture that meant look around first. Jerric walked back up the hill to the Gate’s far side and climbed to the top of the rocks. Gjaever stayed with him.

The ground dropped away here as well, covered in the same loose powder. Down below it seemed that fog filled the hollows, but it could be blowing grit. Jerric yanked off a gauntlet and sifted some across his fingers. It was dry and very cold. “I think this is snow.”

Gjaever’s shoulders heaved, but the Gate drowned out whatever noise he might have made.

“Salij,” Kjestrid agreed. “It’s so cold it’s like sand. We don’t get this in Bruma.”

“Nor in Corinthe,” said Shamir-do. “Khajiit sees no tower. Khajiit sees only salij.”

Jerric scraped the snow until he uncovered hard ground. “Not the same,” he muttered. “No fire in the ground. No lava, no… Not the same. How..?”

“Which way?” asked Kjestrid. “If we’re not going back we get moving.”

Jerric looked across the low hills, watching for movement. The Gate did not seem to be guarded. That didn’t mean it wasn’t.

“That way,” he said, picking a direction. He started down the hill, sliding his brass and pearl life detection ring onto his finger.

Pink glows flared to life at ground level all around them. Jerric halted, arms spread out at his sides. “Oh, skitt.”

“What is it?” Kjestrid called. She drew her long blade.

“I have no fetching idea. It’s…” He made a gesture. “A sea of life signs. Or maybe just one. Big. Everywhere. Look.” He handed Kjestrid his ring.

Shamir-do had his sword in hand. He probed the ground with its point.

Gjaever made a yelp from the rear.

“Dammit!” cried Kjestrid. “Pick your feet up!”

Jerric moved one foot, but then the other seemed frozen to the ground. He yanked it up with a crack and then the first one was stuck again. He started quick-stepping back and forth in place.

“Back through the Gate!” Kjestrid called. “Move it!”

Jerric took off running in the direction he had chosen. Shoot me if you like. The surface of the snow began to shift as he ran. At first he thought it was a reaction from his footsteps. Then he realized a vibration was coming from the ground.

He could hear the others yelling at his back, but he didn’t turn to determine their intentions. He felt as if he was rising and falling, too quickly to be progress over crests and valleys of the hills. A familiar feeling became an internal wail.

Waves. Hump me sideways, the ground is making waves.

The waves rose higher and sank less with each undulation. Snow slid back and forth, but mostly toward him and then past. It deepened quickly to knee height, and then to his thighs, tugging his legs as he waded forward.

Kjestrid gave a wordless shout. Jerric turned to see her wave toward a rocky outcrop to their left. Gjaever appeared slogging through the powder at Jerric’s right, almost within his reach.

A dry, crunching sound came from the rear, followed by a cascade of sharp pops. They reached the rocks and clambered to the top as the popping became a roar. Jerric turned to see a chasm open at the foot of their ridge. Snow rushed into the gap while powder rose in a cloud. Jerric realized that he had seized Kjestrid and Shamir-do’s arms in a protective reflex. Gjaever had Jerric’s shoulder in his grip. This time Jerric did not object.

It took only moments for the groundshake to stop. The avalanche became a trickle as the last of the loose surface material rained into the new canyon.

“Shor’s bones,” said Kjestrid.

Shamir-do removed his arm from Jerric’s fist. He gestured toward the Gate. “We could go around to that—”

The Gate let out a deafening shriek. Orange light flared outward and then drew back into itself until with a mighty whoosh, it went out.

Jerric stared at the black, empty arms reaching like mandibles toward the grey sky.

Gjaever’s growl broke the sudden silence. “Fikken Orkey,” he said.

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This post has been edited by Grits: Nov 28 2015, 04:06 PM