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

[Grits]

haute ecole rider: Thank you!! It makes more sense to me that the Captain would be in charge, not some random Nord who just ran up and jumped into the Gate. I’ve also changed a few small details in the next part. The section after this one, who knows. I’ve just dumped it again.

SubRosa: Mixed martial arts, what Foxy said. Although ‘Manly Men Around’ does explain my interest. I’m glad the sword decision made sense, I’ve been studying!! Thank you, SubRosa!

D. Foxy: I have been reading it, and reading it, and reading it!! Thank you, Foxy!! (I hope Ichiban Kantsei is something good!)

Acadian: Thank you for pointing out Matius/Menien mix-up, that was a big oops. I fixed it. Sadly, Menien remains in the Deadlands. The Jerric/Matius contrast was important to me, I’m so glad it came across. I think Buffy’s right about the Atronach folks. They definitely have a different way of looking at things! Thank you, Acadian!

mALX: Thank you, mALX!! The next section gives us a little break between the action. Whew.

A note: Back in the very first chapter a Breton mage named Arnand Penoit introduced us to Jerric. Then I discovered that he shares his first name with a character in Destri Melarg’s magnificent Interregnum. *Grits’ head meets desk* So Arnand Penoit gets a slight tweak and becomes Darnand Penoit. He also gets a mention in Abiene’s Saturalia story, I’ve changed it there, too.



Chapter 7: Kvatch, Part 4

Abiene put down her quill and listened to the commotion coming in through the library window. Something was definitely wrong. She went over and leaned out, straining to see over the Mages Guild hall’s portico. An agitated crowd milled around the courtyard in front of Anvil’s Main Gate. One woman screamed and fell into her companion’s arms as she watched. Several people turned away and started running.

Her uneasy feeling bloomed into worry. She latched the window with a click and walked briskly down the stairs. Raised voices drew her to the dining room, and she found the other mages gathered in a knot under one of the stone arches. Everyone was speaking at once, and she couldn’t understand what they were saying. “What?” she demanded, pulling at the blue velvet shoulder in front of her. “What about Kvatch?”

Felen turned around, his narrow face tight with excitement. “It’s overrun with daedra. A Gate to Oblivion has opened on the plateau, and the city is destroyed! A few escaped, but everyone else is dead! An Altmer brought the news. We don’t know what’s happened to the chapter there. We’re waiting for Carahil, perhaps she has more information.”

Images from her one visit to Kvatch flashed through Abiene’s mind. Shopping in the bustling market square on Loredas. Laughing with the other associates at the kahve shops outside the arena. The elegant Guild Court shaded by ancient trees. Flowers planted everywhere, and fountains. It couldn’t all be destroyed.

Her next breath caught in her throat. Jerric lives in Kvatch, she thought. Jerric. Abiene reeled in shock, and she felt a hand under her elbow. “Sit down and wait.” It was Darnand. “We don’t know yet.”

She realized that Darnand’s attention was focused only on her, and for once his face held no evidence of distraction. Any other time she would have delighted in it, but now she felt as if ice had filled her veins. She shook her head at him. “I’m not going to wait.” The Running Wolf company had an office at the harbor. They will know something, she thought. She lifted her skirts and bolted for the door, running all the way down through Chapelgate to the warehouses Harborside.

She burst into the Running Wolf office and leaned against the door, panting and holding the stitch in her side. Her shins ached and her face felt uncomfortably hot and sweaty. The Redguard woman behind the long counter stared at her in startled dismay. Her eyes were swollen as if she had been crying. The Nord who ran the office stepped into the doorway behind her wearing a similar expression. Abiene recognized him, but she couldn’t think of his name. “Young lady, what on Nirn… Here, come in and sit down,” he said. “Shasana, please get her some water. Calm yourself, and tell us what’s wrong.”

The Nord guided her through the door into a small office. “Kvatch,” Abiene gasped, still out of breath. “Where are your caravans?”

The Nord shook his head. “I’ve just been checking the schedules. I’m sorry my dear, it’s very bad news. The caravans were in Kvatch when it happened. The city is destroyed, we fear that all of them are lost. It’s a family birthday, they planned it so they could be home together. Such a terrible shame.”

Abiene fell into a chair and covered her face with her hands, fighting her tears. She could still remember the taste of his skin, and the scent of him. The thought that she wouldn’t see him again seemed impossibly wrong. Grief overwhelmed her self-control, and sobs shook her frame. She gasped out the answers to the Nord’s questions.

“Did you have something on one of our caravans?” he asked. “It will take some time to… You knew someone? Did you say Jerric? Of course, you must have known him from the Mages Guild.” He handed her a handkerchief, and she pressed it to her burning eyes, trying to untangle her emotions.

“Maybe he got out,” she choked. “Maybe he survived.” The sorrow on the Nord’s face told her he didn’t believe it. She shook her head and clenched the handkerchief in her hands. “He’s a battlemage, he can fight!” Her breath came in hiccups. The Nord looked extremely uncomfortable.

“Oh, miss,” he said. “Let me walk you back to the guild.”

Shasana came in and silently handed Abiene a mug of water. She rested her hand on Abiene’s shoulder while she sipped it. The Nord took a seat behind his cluttered desk, and Shasana went to stand beside him. While Abiene struggled to stop crying, fresh tears rolled unchecked down Shasana’s cheeks.

The Nord spoke again. His deep voice was heavy with sorrow, but kind. “We’ve all lost folk in Kvatch, miss. We heard the news from an Altmer named Hirtel only an hour ago at the Flowing Bowl. He was there that night. He said a few survived, very few. I could take you to see him, or when you’re ready I’ll take you home. Folk should stay together at times like these.”

Abiene felt an irrational anger toward the man. “I won’t give up hope,” she insisted. “Not yet. I’ll go back to the guild. Carahil will know what to do, and if there’s any news, she’ll hear it.” Her words ended on a squeak as she took a ragged breath. Part of her wanted to deny what she was feeling.

“You’re right about that, miss. She’s a credit to the guild, and Anvil is lucky to have her.”

“Abiene. My name is Abiene.” Find your composure, she told herself firmly. A few weeks of dalliance hardly make a love affair. The truth is you barely know him.

“Of course, Abiene. I’m Ongve. You healed my shoulder last Rains Hand with a student, and I’m sorry I forgot your name.”

Abiene sniffed and blew her streaming nose. With a city lost, I’m not going to fall apart over one man, she thought, trying to make it true. She focused her attention on Ongve. “How is your shoulder now?” She wiped her tears away and tried to smooth her windblown curls.

“Still just as good as new, thanks for asking. I’m careful now when I lift, like you showed me. You were too kind to say, but I ought to let the young lads shift the heavier loads.”

She looked straight at Ongve, but her mind was filled with images of Jerric. He must still be alive, she thought. Somehow. “I’ll send word if I hear anything,” she told Ongve. “When we hear from him.” I wonder if he got my letter, she thought. Maybe he already sent one back to me.

Now Shasana’s hand rested on Ongve’s shoulder, and he reached up and covered it with his own. “Thank you, Abiene,” he said. “We’ll do the same.”

___

When the chapel door opened, Jerric was the last to step inside. Thunder rolled as he pulled it shut behind him. Cool, dry air and dim quiet closed around him like a curtain. But for the tired, frightened faces he would never have known that fire and destruction reigned outside.

His eyes passed quickly over all of the people inside the chapel. Brother Martin and the priestess Oleta stood with no more than a dozen others behind two uniformed Kvatch guards. Jerric recognized one of the guards as Berich Inian. He had worn the Kvatch Wolf as long as Jerric could remember. Panic began to rise in Jerric’s chest when he saw who wasn’t there. “Are there any others?” he demanded, then he realized that Captain Matius was talking.

“Tierra, report,” Matius had said to the other guard. Jerric couldn’t wait for them to finish.

He looked down and met Oleta’s gaze. Her wrinkled face looked drawn with fatigue, but her gentle brown eyes were clear. “Is this all of you?” he asked quietly, and she nodded. “You know my family, were they here?” He felt as though he was balanced on the edge of an axe.

“No, I haven’t seen them,” she told him sadly.

Jerric felt the foundations of his world fall out from under him. He collapsed into a pew and braced his hands against the back of the one in front. For the first time he started to believe that his family could be lost. Wild grief began to pull the heart out of him.

No, he told himself again, and he desperately clung to the thought. They could still be in the castle. I’m going to find them.

Jerric dragged himself up and approached the altar, trembling with emotion and exhaustion. He knelt down and rested his forehead on the cool stone. My strength is spent, he thought, but I’m not finished. He had no words for what he was asking.

The blessing swirled around him and joined his magicka as he absorbed it, but there was something more this time. He thought he might have stepped away from himself and then returned, but he couldn’t remember. It was like awakening from a quickly fading dream. A sense of clarity washed through him, and he opened his eyes. He felt as refreshed as if he had spent a long night under the stars wrapped in a warm blanket. He stood and looked around. Brother Martin was alive, and he knew he should go speak to him.

Captain Matius was talking to the folk who had found refuge in the chapel. “Pack up everything you can carry. You’ll need food, clothing, healing supplies, and blankets at the camp. Oleta and Brother Martin, I would ask you to remain on the plateau with Sigrid until we have taken back the castle. We will need your healing skills. Oleta, do you have any potions we could bring into battle?”

“Yes, we had few injuries to treat here. I fear the wounded couldn’t… Brother Martin and I can heal your afflictions now, and of course all of you should seek a blessing before you go.” Jerric saw that she was looking at him. “Our water is still pure, the pump is in the kitchen beyond the chapel hall.”

“We’ve heard daedra in the undercroft,” said Tierra. “I’ll go with you.”

One of the guards held his hand out to Jerric. He realized the man was offering to fill his canteen. “Thanks,” Jerric said, and he handed it over.

“Rilian,” said the guard.

He looks younger than me, Jerric thought. “Thanks, Rilian.”

Brother Martin and Oleta began to move among the soldiers, and flashes of white magicka lit up the chapel. Jerric saw Matius talking with Berich Inian. They appeared to be in disagreement. Inian’s voice sounded low and urgent. “Savlian, it’s my place to go with you. Even now I should be at Count Goldwine’s side.”

Matius gripped the older man’s shoulders. Jerric saw the other guards looking away, and he did the same. They could pretend to give them privacy, at least. Vonius caught Jerric’s eye. “Castle Guard,” he said quietly, nodding toward Inian. Oleta put her hands out to heal Vonius.

Matius’ voice was firm and compassionate. “Berich, my friend. I need you to hold the chapel. If I fall, you must lead the Guard again. You taught me everything I know. My decision can’t surprise you.”

Inian’s voice sounded strained. “Make sure you don’t. I haven’t finished teaching you everything I know.” Jerric heard a snort that could be laughter, and then Inian spoke again. “I’ll wait for your orders, Captain.”

Jerric saw the survivors gathering at the south door to evacuate. Brother Martin stood among them, carrying a large pack with another across his shoulders. Jerric looked between Captain Matius and Brother Martin, torn.

Matius spoke to Tierra as she opened the south door to leave. Her face also held the strain of following orders that were not to her liking. “This is only the beginning of the battle for Kvatch,” he told her. “We’ll see you at the castle.”

Jerric made his choice. The conversation with Brother Martin would have to wait. Rilian returned as the door closed behind Tierra. When Jerric took his canteen he noticed that the burns on Rilian’s face had faded to pink. They joined the guardsmen gathered around Captain Matius.

“Our goal is the castle gate,” Matius told them. “This door will take us to the north plaza, and the way is clear across Market Street and through Pinder Plaza. Inian?”

The castle guard spoke with calm authority. “Market Street is completely blocked north to the city wall, but the street is open south through Guild Court. The daedra hold at least the castle courtyard, and they closed the castle gates. You will be attacked from the south and under fire from inside the castle courtyard when you reach Pinder Plaza. The mechanism for raising the gates is inside the gatehouse. The only way to get into the gatehouse now is through the passage at the North Guard House. Remember, Market Street is blocked there. When you clear Pinder Plaza, you’ll have to come back through the chapel and out through the undercroft to get to the Guard House.”

Matius spoke again. “Our fall-back position is the chapel. We’ll clear Pinder Plaza and take cover until the castle gates can be opened. You know the drill. In pairs against the dremora. Stick close to your partner and keep your eyes open. Jerric, are you with us?” Jerric nodded, and Matius’ face broke into a fierce grin. “Ha ha, I knew you’d be up to it! Let’s move out. To the castle!”

This post has been edited by Grits: Feb 7 2011, 08:24 PM

[haute ecole rider]

Again you've done a wonderful job with this quest so far. I really liked how you had Oleta give Jerric the status report instead of our hero eavesdropping on Tierra's report to Savlian. It makes great sense considering Jerric is from Kvatch and knows most of the survivors anyway.

Matius's military planning skills are on fine display here, and I'm enjoying it very much. He's a terrific character to write, isn't he?

Do you know how many times I wrote the castle battle before I said enough was enough? Five times! It was one of the stickiest parts of the MQ for me. So it's good to know I'm not alone.

[SubRosa]

Abiene!

An Altmer brought the news.
A nice nod to that terrified Altmer we meet on the road when first coming to Kvatch.

Jerric felt the foundations of his world fall out from under him
This was wonderfully writ!

Another strong piece. Jerric's fears about his family are shown very well here. So is his determination to win through. His experience at the altar was especially good, and intriguing. This is beginning to take on the overtones of a shamanic initiation. Where one dies a literal or figurative death, and then is put back together, but with something special added deep inside. I smell the brimstone of a time dragon in the latter...

[Jacki Dice]

Poor Jerric His feelings about finding his family come out so strongly that i had to fight back a tear or two -sniff-

[Captain Hammer]

And caught up on this one as well.

Jerric: a new role model of mine. Shame about that nose, but hey, Owen Wilson seems to be able to do it, so it can't be that bad. Besides, as long as the ladies keep thinking that he got it doing various valiant, manly things, their experiences with him will be all the more enjoyable.

I enjoyed the idea that Jerric and his family operate out of Kvatch, as one of the best way-stops along the trade-important Gold Road. That, and his history with Captain Matius, is a very nice touch about a hero trying to save his home.

Your depiction of the Kvatch Gate quest made me sigh in remembrance. One of the toughest parts to write, and you handle it very well. Jerric and company keep a mind on tactics that Oblivions A.S. (Artificial Stupidity) system doesn't allow.

[Acadian]

Two distinct and very good scenes. In fact each would have made a fine story alone.

I particularly enjoyed drawing out the fact that the Mages Guild in Kvatch was a full, vibrant guild - until that gate opened. Lovely flashbacks of Kvatch.

Meanwhile, back in Kvatch, lovely interaction inside the Chapel. No surprise that Jerric will be part of the raid force to retake the castle. I very much enjoy that in this scene and, I expect in your next, Jerric is just one participant among many brave members of the City of the Wolf.

[Thomas Kaira]

Emotions ran heavy in this one. You did a great job portraying the effects the fall of Kvatch are having on the people of Tamriel, a whole lot better than this:

NPC 1: Have you heard about Kvatch? They say that Daedra came from Oblivion and burned the whole city to the ground!
NPC 2: No!
NPC 1: Without question.

You'd think considering how huge an event the fall of Kvatch was for the game, the populace would recognize that. Thankfully, in your story, they did, and they did so very well.

Looking forward to the next big fight.

This post has been edited by Thomas Kaira: Feb 8 2011, 05:17 AM

[mALX]

You have done more than bring to life the tragedy of the events in Kvatch; these chapters have immersed us in the events as realistically as if we had experienced them ourselves. AWESOME WRITE !!!!

[Grits]

haute ecole rider: Thank you for the encouragement!! Having Jerric live in Kvatch has put a different spin on this whole quest, which has been interesting.

SubRosa: I’m glad you detected that whiff of brimstone. I’m still not sure where it will take him.

Jacki Dice: I think the guy deserves a nice vacation after this!!

Captain Hammer: I’m glad you’re reading! I’m sure someone will rearrange his nose for him eventually.

Acadian: In retrospect I probably should have posted the two scenes separately. Just the few sentences I wrote about Kvatch made me want to do a story set there before the Gate. Knowing it is doomed somehow captures the imagination.

Thomas Kaira: I agree, people should be upset! It also makes me mad that Kvatch stays burning. Next big fight, coming right up!

mALX: Thank you, mALX!



Chapter 7: Kvatch, Part 5

Jerric moved out and took his position on the north chapel steps beside Captain Matius. The sky had darkened while they were inside, and the wind drove ash and debris against his face. Vonius stood behind him. Jerric heard his voice under the growing storm. “She’ll be at the castle… she’ll be at the castle…” Vonius repeated to himself. Jerric realized that all of them had someone they still hoped to find, and the strain increased as they got closer to their goal. His eyes moved quickly over the north plaza to Market Street. Flame atronachs were clearly visible in the dusk, and the scamps had already spotted them and begun casting their flares. Matius wasted no time. “Kvatch!” he roared, and they answered him as one voice.

The fireballs were not difficult to dodge at this distance. Jerric saw the guards moving with him as he ran toward the closest flame atronach. He began casting frost spells as he approached. She leaped up and brought her hands down to strike him, and he dodged to the side. He guessed that the dark spots he saw against the flame of her body were her armor. He dodged another graceful leap, then sliced Chillrend across her bright abdomen. Her body jerked from the frost effect, and he gritted his teeth against a sudden jolt of pain. Dammit, he thought. She’s reflecting damage. He danced back on the balls of his feet, sword ready for his next strike. This is going to hurt, he warned himself. When he saw her begin to raise her arms again, he stepped forward and drove Chillrend up under her armor into her chest. Her flames grew dim as she slid off his sword. The dark pieces of armor clanked against the stones when she flickered away into nothingness. Huh, he thought. No blood. He glanced around and saw another target. As he ran toward her it began to rain.

By the time Jerric reached the statue of Antus Pinder, Chillrend’s magicka had run out of charge. The padded doublet under his iron armor was coming apart from the flares he failed to absorb, and he was spitting up blood from the damage the flame atronachs reflected back onto him. The rain had soaked through to his skin. He reached the statue at the same time as Rilian and another guard. Matius was watching the rest of the guards return from the ruins of Guild Court. His blade and white surcoat were dark with blood. He turned and spoke, raising his voice over the rain.

“Rilian, I want you to go get the guard house key from Inian at the chapel. Make your way through the undercroft and around to the North Guard House. Inian will tell you what to do. Jerric, I want you to go with him, will you do it? Good! Keep the daedra off his neck. Looks like you can absorb their spells, that’s an advantage we need. Check your cuirass, Jerric. Those buckles look loose. The rain and dark should give you some cover, tell Inian try not to engage the daedra. We’ll clear the eastern part of the city after we secure the castle. As soon as you raise the gate, join us in the castle courtyard. Our priority is Count Goldwine, then anyone else who made it to the castle. Got it? Fast and quiet, get that gate open!”

Rilian secured his bow on his back and Jerric sheathed Chillrend. They jogged back across Market Street and into the north plaza. Lightning flashes illuminated the sheets of rain that fell across their path and splashed up from the cobbled street. Candlelight from inside the chapel made the tall windows barely visible. Jerric tried to fix his buckles as he went, but he just couldn’t manage it. He tucked his chin against the rain and ran the rest of the way to catch up with Rilian.

They burst into the chapel just as a tremendous crack of thunder sounded simultaneously with its lightning flash. Inian whirled around drawing his sword, then they all jumped toward the south door as it flew open. Three Imperial Legion soldiers dashed in, shaking off the rain. They stopped abruptly at the sight of Jerric and the Kvatch guards with their weapons drawn. “Hold!” one shouted, spreading out his hands. “I’m Paetus. This is Livius, and Masavo is the archer. We saw the flames from the Gold Road while out on patrol. We came to help.”

“Your help is most welcome,” said Inian. He made the introductions, then he turned toward Rilian and Jerric. “Did Captain Matius give the order? Finally, a chance to fight back!” The legionnaires gathered around him with Rilian and Jerric. “We need to open the castle gates,” Inian said to all of them. “I’m afraid we’re in for a tough time, friends. We’ll have to go out through the chapel undercroft, and then through what’s left of the city. Rilian, here’s the guard house key. Rilian’s the fastest guard in Kvatch, and we need to get him through to the tower at the north wall, that’s the North Guard House. There’s a passage there to the castle gatehouse. We’ll go through it and open the castle gates.”

“Captain said fast and quiet, sir,” said Rilian.

Inian nodded. “That’s right, we just need to get you through. The noise from the rain and the dark should give us some cover. The daedra don’t seem to work together, I’ve been watching. The important thing now is to get to the Count. We won’t engage if we can get by them.”

Jerric looked over at the altar while Inian spoke. He wondered what had happened to him there. He didn’t need fear or rage to drive him anymore, he felt a calm purpose like firm ground under his feet. He drained his canteen while Inian was speaking.

“Check your gear,” Inian told them. “Jerric, you have some damage here. Let me see it.”

Rilian took Jerric’s canteen again and headed for the stairs. “Be right back,” he said.

Inian swore under his breath as he moved Jerric’s arm. “There’s no way I can fix it, you caught too many flares. Look here, this buckle is about to give out. I think you’re better off with just the breastplate.”

“All right.” Jerric made the adjustments. “At least I’ll be a little quicker.”

Inian tugged at the cuirass and nodded with satisfaction. “Keep one eye on Rilian, that lad is fast. I don’t want to lose him in the dark. It’ll be hard to tell where we are out there. It’s bad, Jerric.”

“I hear you.” Jerric swung his arms and picked up his gear. “Ready.”

Inian opened the door to the undercroft, and the stench of scamps hit them like a wall. Jerric and the legionnaires moved through with Rilian and Inian behind them. The evenly spaced columns helped keep Jerric from veering into the way of his allies. “For the Empire!” bellowed one of the legionnaires, but Jerric ignored him. He reveled in the simplicity of this fight. The only thing on his mind was each enemy that stepped in front of him. The scamps’ flares lit up the dark undercroft along with Inian and Rilian’s torches. He felt his confidence surge with each fireball he absorbed, and the ones that hit him were forgotten as soon as he healed the burns. The last scamp’s body flailed onto him, blood jetting out of its neck stump. Jerric kicked it away and spit to get the foul taste off of his lips. He wiped his mouth on his exposed doublet, then he wiped Chillrend and turned to examine the blade in the torchlight. He glanced up and caught Rilian’s wide-eyed stare.

“Did you see that?” said Jerric. “Look, its head is still rolling.”

Inian spoke. “We’ll move from cover to cover. Jerric, you go first, then Paetus and Livius. You three engage any daedra that spot us. Rilian, you’ll run through and do not stop to fight. Masavo, you’re with Rilian. I’ll bring up the rear. Wait for me to give the signal before you go again. The city is in ruins, we might have to backtrack to find a way through. We don’t have time to get lost out there. Ready? No shouting, Livius. Keep it quiet. Now let’s get out of this stink.”

They filed out of the undercroft and back into the rain. Jerric saw the distant glow from two flame atronachs, and when lightning flashed he strained to see the dark shapes of any dremora. Inian grabbed his shoulder to get his attention. He pointed to two-story building some distance away. Fires burned around it, but the first floor lay in shadow. Jerric nodded. Inian thumped his shoulder again, and Jerric moved out into the dark street.

___

Jerric pulled Chillrend out of the dead scamp and dropped to his knee. His left arm burned, he couldn’t tell if it was from the scamp’s claws or from its flare. He closed his eyes and focused his healing spell. Great, he thought. It’s broken again. He slipped the shield off to make sure he healed it straight, then he sent the white light into the injuries. He guessed they had been making their way through the city for at least an hour. Their attempt at stealth was not working. Each fiery skirmish drew more daedra, and Jerric doubted that they had left many alive behind them. He flexed his arm with satisfaction and shook some rain out of his eyes.

A flash of lightning showed him a huge shape rapidly approaching. “Die, churl!” growled the dremora. Jerric reached for Chillrend on the ground, but his hand met only wet cobblestone. He scrambled back and readied a shock spell. Dreck, he thought. Dreck, dreck, dreck. He sent his shock at the dremora’s armored chest when it raised its mace, then he rolled to the side to avoid its strike. He heard the mace hit stone. The dremora howled as Jerric got his feet under him. When he lunged away and readied his next shock spell, another scream cut through the rain. This one sounded distinctly Imperial. Jerric turned to find the dremora on one knee, then it toppled to the ground. Rilian stood behind it. Jerric noticed that he had lost his helmet. Rilian pulled his sword out of the dremora’s neck and looked at Jerric. “Just like you told us,” he said. His words were followed by rumbling thunder.

Jerric picked up his gear and followed Rilian’s pale shape to the rally point. He guessed that the storm was moving away from them. Inian and the legionnaires crouched in the shadows, waiting. Inian spoke when they knelt down. “I thought we’d be at the Arena by now,” he said. “But I don’t think we’ve reached Market Square.”

Jerric looked into the building beside them. There was enough fire to see inside, but the furnishings were jumbled and burned. “I can’t tell if that’s a sales counter, or just someone’s kitchen,” he said.

Masavo spoke up. “I saw a bed in the street back there. It was upside down, but I could tell it was a bed.”

“The shops had dwellings over them,” said Inian. “Let me think.”

“I know!” cried Rilian. He darted out into the darkness.

“Dammit! Rilian!”

“Want me to go after him?” asked Jerric. He doubted he could catch up, even if somehow he headed in the right direction.

“No. Maybe they won’t notice him,” Inian sighed. “Canteens. Take a drink if you have one.”

Paetus didn’t, so Jerric passed his over. “How’s the knee?” he asked Paetus.

“Not good. If I had the time, I’d wrap it.”

“Want me to take a look?” Paetus stretched his leg out, and Jerric sent his magicka through it.

“Just wrenched. I can heal it if you want,” said Jerric. “You’ll have to let me have the next mage, though.”

“All right,” Paetus agreed. Jerric healed the knee. His magicka was getting dangerously low.

“Born under the Atronach,” explained Inian.

“Oh. So that’s his excuse,” said Livius. “Crazy son of a…”

“I’m back!” announced Rilian, dropping down between them with a grin. “We’re on the edge of the Arena. I looked at the curbs. My father used to make me wait while he watched the games.” Rilian sounded breathless and exhilarated. Jerric thought that perhaps they had all gone a little crazy.

“Good work!” said Inian. “But don’t run off again, you have the key. That means we’re almost there. We’ll go around through that spot, see where it’s clear? Masavo, you’re out of arrows. You get to go first this time. Then Jerric and Livius, then Paetus with Rilian. Remember, Jerric wants the mages.”

“And the flame atronachs,” said Jerric.

“You can have them,” Masavo said fervently. His cuirass was blackened with soot. Masavo took off running across the littered street.

This post has been edited by Grits: Feb 10 2011, 06:55 PM

[SubRosa]

He guessed that the dark spots he saw against the flame of her body were her armor.
Either that or sunspots...

Another grueling battle in the streets, and once more Captain Matius shows us why he is the captain. Likewise with Inian.

I looked at the curbs. My father used to make me wait while he watched the games.
This was a nice touch.


nits:
In the game, Reflect Damage only works against melee attacks. So Jerric's frost spells would not have been reflected. That would have taken Reflect Magic. If you are purposely changing it for the JF, no worries.

Three Imperial Legion soldiers dashed in{,} shaking off the rain.
You missed a comma where I inserted it above.

He heard the mace hit stone at the same time the dremora howled and he got his feet under him.
This sentence is rather long, with a lot happening in it, and no commas to break up each thing. You might consider going to back and rewording it some, and adding some commas.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Feb 10 2011, 09:35 PM

[Grits]

SubRosa: Thank you!! I addressed the issues. The reflect damage was an oops!

Sunspots!!

[haute ecole rider]

Let me begin by saying that SubRosa caught the nits I noticed.

Now let me say this: Rousing! Rawr!

Be still my beating heart, there's still the castle to go.

Well done, again!

[mALX]

Holy Cow! I was holding my breath through this whole chapter! Powerful imagery of the whole scene, and I agree with SubRosa, that moment of recognizing the curb he used to sit on was HUGE! Awesome Write!

[Acadian]

Wonderful again, Grits! You not only captured the frenzy and fog of the fight, but tied in several suggestions at the personal tragedies of memories and loved ones. 'She'll be at the castle.' Jerric looking at the curb.

Very effective pacing here; I'm sure anyone reading is breathing a little harder and their pulse is a bit faster.

All of the characters in this episode are very well presented under pressure here. You do justice to each of them and their efforts.

[Captain Hammer]

Wow. Talk about the Adrenaline rush. No, not the Regaurd racial power, why do they always think it's that...

You do a great job with the small squad operating against a lot of enemies. Especially with how they just can't seem to catch a break and avoid any of the enemies out there. Shame how the that never works

Particularly liked how the others responded to learning that Jerric was born under the Atronach, as well as his request to handle the magic users. Good stuff.

This post has been edited by Captain Hammer: Feb 11 2011, 04:03 AM

[Jacki Dice]

Jerric thought that perhaps they had all gone a little crazy.

Couldn't blame them for it :/ Poor men. All this makes Wrothken's crazy look like a walk in the park!

[Ahrenil]

I love the little humane twists on the Legionaires and guards, it takes a little bit of the curb off the situation, but you always bring back the weight of the situation with the little details. Like the bed in the street, the rooms above the shops. It makes the whole situation a lot more personal and human than it ever felt in the game. It's a superb read!

[Grits]

SubRosa: I’m glad Inian is coming across, too. When I saw that he is a castle guard I decided to give him a little more work to do. Thank you again for pointing out those issues so I could fix them, and for your encouraging words.

haute ecole rider: It’s the last push to the castle, whew! Thank you so much for your support!

mALX: The curb was my favorite detail. Thank you mALX!!

Acadian: Thank you, Acadian! I was hoping that the characters would come across in these action-y sections without slowing things down too much.

Captain Hammer: Yeah, if they avoided all the enemies it might have been a little bit boring. Thank you for the encouragement! I’m glad you enjoyed the legionnaires’ comments.

Jacki Dice: This would be a bad time for Jerric to wander into a felldew situation!

Ahrenil: Thank you for pointing out those details, Ahrenil. I’m glad you’re reading!!



Chapter 7: Kvatch, Part 6

Jerric stood inside the North Guard House looking at the round trapdoor set into the floor. Inian dropped a lit torch down. Its yellow light revealed that thick smoke filled the dark passage. “Looks like the daedra came through from the courtyard and got stopped here at the hatch,” said Inian.

“What could still be burning down there?” Jerric asked. There’s no air, he thought. Terror made his wet skin feel coated with ice. He would rather face a dozen clannfears than go into that tunnel.

“Some crates, maybe. Furnishings that were in storage. There shouldn’t be anything else down there to burn,” Inian replied. He looked up at the five of them. “Here’s what we’ll find. It’s a climb down these metal rungs, then stairs down to a straight passage all the way to the end. You’ll find another set of stairs and rungs there going up with a hatch at the top like this one. No turns, no other way out. Watch out for steps up and down throughout the passage. My concern is that the daedra might have blocked the trap door in the courtyard after they set these fires.”

“Is there any other way?” Jerric asked quietly. He tried to calm himself. The thought of suffocating underground had already made him feel short of breath.

“This is it.”

“Let me see if there’s air in the passage, sir,” Rilian suggested. The young guard looked tense and eager. Jerric caught Livius’s eyes and saw his own fear in them.

“All right,” said Inian. “Be quiet getting the other trapdoor up. It’s not easily visible from the courtyard, but be careful. I don’t want a fight in the passage.”

“Yes, sir,” said Rilian. He dropped his legs through the hatch and disappeared into the smoke. A moment later they heard him coughing. “It’s not so bad near the floor!” he called. “I’m going!” The yellow light disappeared with his fading footsteps.

“Masavo, light another torch,” said Inian. He looked up at Jerric. “I’m sending you next.”

“Funny,” said Jerric. “They’ve set everything on fire except the torches.”

“Stay focused,” Inian told him sharply. Smoke began to drift up out of the hatch. “I think he’s opened it! Damn, that boy is fast! Fetch it, we’re all going.” Inian grinned at Jerric and dropped Masavo’s torch down. “You first, Nord. Then Livius.” Fear stiffened Jerric’s limbs. He didn’t let himself think, he just swung his legs over and climbed down into the darkness. He felt some relief when his muscles didn’t hesitate. Smoke started to burn his eyes before he even picked up the torch. He heard Livius hit the floor behind him as he started down the passage, coughing. Good idea to get the frightened rabbits down the hole first, he thought. Now Inian can kick our dreck-dribbling haunches the rest of the way if he has to.

Jerric loped through the long tunnel with the torch in his hand, stumbling over the stairs that Inian had warned them about. It took all of his concentration not to take off running in a panic. He fell into a rhythm counting steps and keeping his breaths shallow until he reached Rilian at the top of the final staircase. The air at the base of the round tower was clearer. Jerric dropped the torch and got ready for the climb up.

The others joined them in the tower. “There’s no cover in the courtyard,” Inian warned them. “It’s designed that way. We’ll be under fire from the top of the walls. Jerric, straight across between the gates and up the stairs to the gate lever. It’s a wheel, turn it to the left to raise them. See if you can get them up as fast as Rilian got the hatch open. Let’s go!”

Jerric needed no encouragement to climb out of the tunnel back into the rain. He dashed between the gates and up the stairs, coughing the smoke out of his lungs. Even though it was wet, the gate wheel turned easily in his hands. He heard shouts from across the moat and screeches from within the courtyard as the gates went up. By the time he leaped down the steps and swung around the corner into the courtyard, the battle had begun.

Scamps, clannfears, and flame atronachs filled the air with their cries and the light from their fire spells. The three legionnaires had taken a position in the middle of the courtyard. They looked like a solid fortress against a swirl of fire. Jerric heard Matius shouting, and the Kvatch Guards filled in on both sides of them. Jerric stood beside the Altmer archer, throwing his spells over their heads at the dremora on the wall above. First he would send a flare to show him his target, then he would follow quickly with a more powerful shock spell. He saw the first dremora fall and glanced to his right where something had caught his attention.

Vonius lay on his side cursing in a rapidly widening pool of blood. His hands pressed around a dremora arrow that had pierced the mail over his upper thigh. A scamp had almost reached him. Jerric jumped over Vonius and slashed through the scamp’s belly, heedless of the claws raking down his arm. He lowered his shield and aimed a second slash through its throat. The scamp slumped forward, and Jerric threw his shoulder into its slippery chest to shove the body away from Vonius as it fell. He dropped to the ground beside Vonius, kneeling in the blood and water. No cover, Jerric thought. He pressed against the injured leg with one hand and got the other ready to pull out the arrow.

Rilian crashed to the stones near them with an arrow protruding from his throat. He lay thrashing on the wet cobbles. “The kid!” Vonius gritted out. “Rilian!”

Jerric scrambled over to Rilian, and for a moment he was blinded by fire as a flare hit his back. When the flames dissipated he saw that Rilian’s eyes were open, locked on his. His legs had stilled, and red bubbles frothed through Rilian’s fingers. No time, Jerric thought. He ripped out the arrow and clapped his hand over Rilian’s on the torn throat. White light swirled around them as Jerric sent his healing spell into the wound over and over, as fast as he could. Rilian began kicking again and coughed out blood. Jerric pulled him upright by his surcoat. Rilian stared back at him with wild eyes, clutching his healed throat. “Stendarr’s balls,” Jerric breathed in amazement. Rilian bent over onto his knees, spitting up blood. Jerric lunged back over to Vonius. He lay flat on his back now with another arrow in his chest. The rain made puddles in his open eyes.

A sick feeling churned inside Jerric’s guts, and he felt the grief and horror flooding back in. Thoughts swarmed around his head like bees, but he pushed them away. He let go of Vonius and rose to stand beside Rilian. The fight in the courtyard was over. We’re almost there, he told himself. He closed his eyes and listened to the rain on the courtyard stones, and in a moment his mind was clear again. He picked up his shield and joined Matius at the castle door.

Blood soaked the Captain’s headband and surcoat. Jerric saw the Altmer archer standing grim-faced beside Matius, holding a dremora mace in his hand. Jerric guessed he must have eliminated the rest of the dremora archers. “This area’s clear,” said Matius. “You legionnaires are a welcome sight. We’ve got to get inside and find the Count before it’s too late. Inian, we’re under your command. No one knows the castle better than you.”

Inian stepped forward. He spoke to the Altmer first. “Merandil, take Jerric with you and go straight through to the Count’s quarters, you know the way.” He nodded to the legionnaires. “You three go with them to rescue the Count. Get through the living quarters main hall to the corridor at the end. It leads to the Count’s private quarters. Find the Count and defend him until we meet you. There’s a corner in the final hallway you can use to your advantage. I’ll clear the Great Hall with Captain Matius and the rest of the guard. We’ll come for you and the Count when the castle is secure.” He spoke to the rest of the Kvatch Guard. “You on the left, you on the right. You two straight down the middle, let Merandil’s group through. Move out!”

Jerric followed Merandil into the Great Hall. The interior was a shocking wreck of piled, smoldering furniture. Books and silver tableware littered the floor. Smoke obscured the high ceiling. Jerric looked for the familiar entrance to the castle dungeons, but rubble filled the opening. He saw the guards closing with flame atronachs and scamps. This is it, he thought. He reached inside himself for his Nordic Woad and felt it settle like a second skin around him. “The Count!” cried Merandil.

There was plenty of room to dodge daedra as they ran through the Great Hall. One clannfear’s charge caught Jerric’s side, but its bony head frill glanced off his hip with a white flash of magicka. He stumbled into a shattered column, then he pushed himself up and continued without injury. They followed Merandil up the curved set of stairs behind the throne. They had reached a part of the castle that Jerric had never seen before.

The doorway to the castle living quarters was open, its doors shattered. Ruined furnishings cluttered the floor, leaving little room to move. Twisted bodies lay strewn across the carpet here. The smell of smoke thickened the air, and under it Jerric could smell something much worse.

Scamps and flame atronachs emerged from the doorways along the sides of the hall and began throwing their flares. Jerric stayed between Masavo and Merandil as they worked their way through the room. The uncertain footing made it difficult to dodge the fireballs. The legionnaires easily caught them on their shields. Jerric absorbed most of them, but the increasing pain from his burns made a constant howl in his mind. Merandil began to stagger. He carried no shield, only the dremora mace.

A clannfear stepped out of a side passageway and turned into the room. Jerric heard Livius and Paetus on his left swearing at a flame atronach. On his right Merandil struggled grimly with a scamp, and Masavo was somewhere behind him. The clannfear lowered its head and trumpeted. It charged straight at Jerric. Dammit, he thought, there’s no room. He was able to move a half step to the side, but the clannfear caught him full on his shield. He heard the splintering crack of impact as it tossed him into a burning table. Hot agony seared his hands as he scrambled and rolled sideways out of the fire. He heard Masavo shouting, but he couldn’t listen. The sight of his hands blackened and red where the skin split open filled him with horror. Panic sent his healing spell carelessly over all of himself. He stared down at his healed arms, shaking. Jerric looked up to see Masavo pulling his sword out of the clannfear. Masavo looked over at Merandil and Jerric. “We’ve got this!” he cried. “Go to the Count!”

Merandil caught Jerric’s eye and jerked his head toward the back of the hall. Jerric could see two broad steps leading up to an open, arched doorway there. He pulled his ruined shield from his arm and dropped it as he picked his way through the debris. The floor at the back of the hall was thick with bodies dressed in the castle guards’ white surcoats. Jerric realized that this was where they had made their stand. The hopelessness and despair they must have felt also filled him, and this time he was powerless to stop it.

His family had never been here, now he knew it in his bones. The last thought that he might find anyone left alive slipped away. He tried to bring them into the front of his mind. They stood together in his imagination, and he found he couldn’t see their faces. They seemed so far away from him. The knowledge that he could never bring them any closer sank through him like a black fog. He felt cold inside, alone and empty.

His legs still carried him forward. Jerric knew the hollow look of folk who had gone on living long after their hearts had left them. Now he knew the feeling. He rounded the corner in the hallway, following Merandil. They stepped over at least a dozen torn bodies. Jerric realized that after the guards were killed, the daedra had simply slaughtered these people where they stood.

When Jerric and Merandil entered Count Goldwine’s quarters, a scamp looked up from where it rummaged through the wreckage. These doors had also been splintered open. The smell told Jerric that the Count had been dead for some time. Jerric's eyes found him on the floor in a dark, sticky pool. Merandil pounded the scamp with his mace until it fell, and then for awhile after. A ragged sob pulled Jerric’s attention to the door. Inian stepped into the room, his face utterly defeated. Tears stood in his eyes.

Jerric pulled the woven coverlet from the bed and spread it out next to the Count’s body. Inian turned him until the black wolf on the coverlet centered over his chest. They wrapped the Count’s body and carefully lifted him onto the bed. When Captain Matius found them standing there, Inian silently handed him the Count's signet ring.

The victors made their way back out of the city, but there was no rejoicing. Jerric understood that they had all held onto the hope of finding loved ones alive at the castle. The only folk who weren’t grieving were the ones who lay dead. Even the three legionnaires were somber. He noticed that Masavo and Paetus supported Livius between them. As they walked across the bridge over the castle moat, the rain faded into a drizzle. Smoke and steam still rose from the ruins, but the air was already clearing. By the time they reached the city gate, Masser and Secunda were visible in the sky. Jerric stood on the plateau and looked up at the familiar stars. The smells were horribly wrong, but the damp wind that washed over him felt the same as it had for all of his life. He heard Sigrid speaking to the guards, but their words made no sense in his ears.

Jerric turned and walked back into the city. His feet found a path through the wreckage, and his eyes followed the line of the city wall until he stood where his home had been. Small fires still burned under the rubble. They showed him that there was nothing left but tumbled stones and ash. Savlian had pointed to where the great siege crawler had come over the wall. His family would have been beneath it. He knew they had died here, crushed and burning. Still he had to look for them.

He started searching the dead faces in the street, moving stones and people as he went. His hands turned every broken body until Inian found him at dawn. He took Jerric’s arm and led him away to the encampment like a child.

This post has been edited by Grits: Feb 17 2011, 01:26 PM

[haute ecole rider]

This. Is. Heartbreaking.

You've captured the harrowing experience of Kvatch as told from the view point of a Kvatch resident. Entwined with that is the crazy chaos that is combat, with comrades dropping left and right too fast to count. Friends are standing next to you one second, and in the next they're gone. And the aftermath is just astounding.

[mALX]

WHEW!!! This battle scene was breathtaking in detail - choking on the smoke in that tunnel was a huge descriptive way of showing what that tunnel was like. Jerric's emotions could be felt through this whole set of chapters - AWESOME WRITE !!!!!

GAAAAAH!!!! Poor Jerric, that last paragraph brings tears!!!