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

[SubRosa]

So I take it the last chapter was part of the 5 Year Plan?

The Plan makes me think of this Harry Potter quote "when have any of our plans ever actually worked? We plan, we get there, all hell breaks loose."

Bugs for breakfast. Ugh. Even the super-mutants in the fallout games rank bugs as the worst food. Worse than ghouls.

Well, at least Kjestrid is in no danger of losing her figure while in Morrowind...

Looks like Nireli will be sticking around the story for a while longer. I wonder if she will be joining the Scooby Gang? She no longer has anything to tie her down, or to live for really.

Brilliant of Lil to use the local wildlife to disguise her passage!

It appears the news of Lil's death was greatly exaggerated...

Hah! The game is afoot! Time to meet up with Baurus and go hunt some Mythic Dawnies!

[haute ecole rider]

I've finally caught up!

Your description of the last Gate, and the FG's encounter with Nereli left echoes of "Huzzah!" echoing in my mind. Whew! Just a memory . . .

Then back to CRT and ah ha! Captain Stefan! The most underrated NPC in the whole game. I see that you put your own twist to him, and yet he shares the same heritage as my Stefan Arngrimsson . . .

Five years to write a chapter . . . Hmmm, I have a story waiting fifteen years for its finale . . .

So glad to see you continuing this, I'm still enjoying everything you put down to text!

[Grits]

Previously: With Jerric delayed in Blacklight, Darnand and Lildereth decided to follow the Path of Dawn.


ghastley: She’ll need at least five more to figure that one out. Better make them elf years. Thank you, ghastley!

Acadian: Thank you, Acadian! Poor Darnand. He has to share way too much with Jerric.

SubRosa: Lildereth had an elk mount in her online game (until I gave away my PS4). I had to work that in somehow. Just as I was thinking that Kjestrid might be getting a little too badass in the Gate, she surprised me by being a big baby about her food. She might have trouble maintaining her corn fed stature on an elf diet. Thank you, SubRosa!

haute ecole rider: Maybe it’s because you meet him in the snow, but I could only think of Steffan as a Nord for the longest time. In my mind he looks like a RL acquaintance who has Columbian and Scandinavian heritage. Dark hair, brown skin, and crystal clear blue-grey eyes. He is so beautiful it’s hard to concentrate when he’s talking. Also he is a dentist, so his teeth can blind you. Thank you, haute!


Next: Let’s find a fancy Bosmer.

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Chapter 18: The Path of Dawn, Part Two

Darnand let the door slam shut behind him. Mid-day sun glared off the Market District’s white stone buildings. He stomped around the corner to the Merchants Inn.

Lildereth stepped outside just as he reached for the door. She had changed into a gown and left her bow with their packs. Her hair fell loose over her shoulders.

“We have missed him by a half day,” Darnand said before she could ask. “Gwinas already bought the third volume. Godsdammit!”

“What did Phintias say?” Lildereth linked her arm through his and drew him a few steps down the street.

“He offered a number of insults, then confessed that the book was out of his hands. I got a description. Gwinas is a blond Bosmer with his hair in what Phintias described as an elf-knot. He is wearing red silk robes trimmed with gold. I suspect that wherever he is, he is studying his latest acquisition.”

“We might catch him,” said Lildereth. “If he’s come from Valenwood he may have more business in the city, and as you say, a collector will want to gloat over his prize. He’s probably rich. You check the Tiber Septim Hotel, and I’ll check the Elven Gardens inns.” She pressed the Ring of Khajiiti into his palm. “This will make you faster and less likely to attract attention while you’re running. Cut straight across to get to Talos Plaza. Look, use the tower as a guide. Check the Arboretum if he’s not at the hotel. A Bosmer may like to read under the trees, no matter what Imperial getup he’s wearing. I’ll meet you in our room in a few hours.”

“What about—”

“I will chase him all the way to Valenwood if I must, but for now let’s just each look for him. I doubt his gold-trimmed robes are for traveling. ‘Husband.’” Lildereth’s kiss on his mouth reminded him that they had roles to play. Then she gave him a little shove, her pointy fingers hidden in a fold of his cloak.

This time of day glancing up at the White-Gold Tower meant looking nearly straight into the sun. After a few dignified strides in case unfriendly eyes were watching, Darnand took off at a run. The Ring of Khajiiti felt heavy on his finger.

Since it was still an appropriate time for the midday meal, Darnand checked the hotel first. A red-robed Bosmer sat alone at a dining table in the center of the Tiber Septim Hotel’s lobby, swinging his feet and sipping from a silver goblet. The plate in front of him held the remains of a meal. He clutched a loosely wrapped book-shaped package to his chest with one arm. Gwinas.

Darnand moved to a pillar and simply stood there, counting on the Ring of Khajiiti to make him look as if he belonged. He did not want a scene in front of witnesses. When Gwinas rose and walked out the main door, Darnand followed.

As Lildereth predicted, the Bosmer entered the Arboretum and started toward an empty bench. Darnand began to close the distance, intending to sit beside him.

Gwinas turned on his heel and frowned at Darnand. “Have you been following me?”

“Pardon me,” Darnand said, leaving a polite space between them. “I could not help but notice your book.”

“Leave me alone!” Gwinas cried. He twisted his body to the side, protecting his prize. “This book is mine!”

That escalated quickly. Darnand made a placating gesture. “So I see. Perhaps you mistake my intention. I want to buy it from you.”

“It isn’t for sale. You’ll have to find a copy somewhere else.”

“No. I have waited too long for this one. I must insist.”

“I won’t be bullied!” Gwinas shrilled. “I’m not some pathetic bookworm you can just push around! I have friends, you know!”

Bullied? Perhaps that would be more effective than reason. Darnand made his best judgmental scowl. “Friends… In the Mythic Dawn?”

“I never said anything about the Mythic Dawn.” Gwinas put his small chin in the air, looking down his nose at approximately Darnand’s mid-chest. “In fact, I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“Do not play the fool with me,” Darnand growled, leaning in.

“V-very well.” Gwinas gulped. He raised up on his toes and continued. “I can see you’re familiar with Mankar Camoran’s Commentaries. I know that daedric cults are not quite the thing socially, but that’s just foolish prejudice and superstition. For the adventurous, open-minded thinker daedric worship holds many rewards.”

“You are out of your depth, Gwinas.” Curse it. That sounded like a height reference.

“I beg your pardon?” Gwinas sputtered. “I’ll have you know that I’ve visited the Shrine of Sheogorath during the Festival of the Mad! I’ve spoken with Hermaeus Mora beneath the full moons! I’ve—”

“‘I have sipped brandy at Sanguine’s pleasure pavilions,’” Darnand sing-songed in the elf’s higher pitch. “‘I have sprinkled glow dust upon the Shrine of Azura!’” He thrust his hand out in a fist. “Do you recognize this?”

“The Ring of Khajiiti,” Gwinas breathed.

“Then you know that I have personally petitioned a Daedric Prince and received Her favor.”

Gwinas’s eyes were round as a human’s. He reached out a tentative finger. “May I… touch it?”

Darnand extended the ring, then snatched it back at the last moment, earning a gasp from the quivering elf. “I should not risk my Lady’s wrath,” he intoned.

Gwinas tucked his hands into the sleeves of his robe, arms still wrapped around the book.

“Gwinas,” Darnand said, “It is true that I was following you. These cultists are no dilettantes dabbling in titillation and welcoming tourists to their shrine. This is a cult of Mehrunes Dagon, committed to bringing about the end of our way of life. They are the ones who murdered our Lord Uriel and all of his heirs. Even now they search for every last innocent who bears a drop of Septim blood. And you would claim them as friends? Once you call upon their evil, do you suppose they will allow you to go on your way?”

“What?! The Mythic Dawn were the ones..? You have to believe me. I truly had no idea. I mean, I knew they were a daedric cult. Mankar Camoran’s views on Mehrunes Dagon are fascinating, revolutionary even. But to murder the Emperor… Mara preserve us!” Gwinas had turned pale as a Nord.

“You had better give me that book.”

“Yes. Of course! I don’t want anyone to think I had anything to do with their insane plots! Here. Volume Three is yours. Take the cursed thing. What you do with it is your business. Auri-El and Stendarr, I wish I’d never heard of this book!” He thrust it at Darnand.

Darnand did not remark upon the elf’s sudden faith in the Divines. “I need the fourth volume as well.”

“You can only get Volume Four directly from a member of the Mythic Dawn. I had set up a meeting with the Sponsor, as he called himself.” Gwinas fumbled in his robe until he produced a folded page. “Here, take the note they gave me. It tells you where to go. I don’t want anything else to do with the Mythic Dawn. Please, won’t you go in my stead? You have… experience in these matters. They don’t ever need to know my face. I mean, you could say you were me.”

“I shall. You are right to fear, Gwinas.” Darnand tucked the note into the book and the book into his shoulder bag. “Will you stay in the city, my friend?”

Gwinas shook his head, eyes bugging out again.

Now he supposes I will not survive it. Perhaps I frightened him too much. “At the least provide a way for me to contact you,” Darnand said. In the event that this turns into a dead end. “As you are something of an expert, I should like to consult you with my findings. Surely your own curiosity—”

“All right!” Gwinas yelped. “I shall remain for one night and no longer. If you do not come to my hotel I’ll assume you are dead!”

“You may feel more comfortable if you change hotels,” Darnand suggested.

“More comfortable than the Tiber Septim? Psht. Oh! You mean I should worry less about being murdered in my sleep. Gaah! I shall never sleep again!”

“Perhaps the All-Saints in the Temple District? It is located near the Talos Plaza Gate. You will not have to move far, and it is close to the Temple of the One.”

“Indeed. As you say.” Gwinas rubbed his palms together then brushed them up and down his arms. He blinked up at Darnand, clicked his heels together, and gave a little bow. “I thank you, my nameless friend. No! I do not wish to know your name. Go with care, and with the blessings of, er, with the blessings of the Nine! And of Your Lady of Infinite Energies! And… and all of the good ones!”

Darnand inclined his head, solemn as one of the park’s marble guardians. As the Bosmer scampered off, he allowed himself to smile.

.

This post has been edited by Grits: Apr 16 2019, 03:59 PM

[Acadian]

What a fun episode – Gwinas was adorable!

‘A red-robed Bosmer sat alone at a dining table in the center of the Tiber Septim Hotel’s lobby, swinging his feet and sipping from a silver goblet.’
‘Gwinas put his small chin in the air, looking down his nose at approximately Darnand’s mid-chest.’
- - I see Gwinas suffers from common Bosmeri complaints of chairs that are too high and Bretons that are too tall!

Brilliantly deft of Darnand to try intimidation when his first effort failed, then to invoke the Daedric ring to emphasize his point. Darnand’s verbal acumen here really contrasts that of his large Nordic friend who would have doubtless tried, “Uh, gimme the book, elf.”

[ghastley]

That was a nice mixture of Beth's dialogue and your own, and the Ring of Khajiiti part was genius!

Now you've got me wondering why Darnand wants to keep Gwinas around, after getting the book. Maybe just in case it's not the book he expects?

[SubRosa]

Lil in a gown, now that is a sight worth seeing!

I can imagine that whatever Phintias said started with his usual sarcastically satirical venemous "Good Day!"

"Its mine, its my precious!" is what I half expected Gwinas to say!

Looks like Darny had no trouble playing bad cop. I loved his big-stuffing with the Ring of the Khajiti!

[Grits]

Previously: Darnand acquired Volume Three from Gwinas. Also, he had a note.


Acadian: Thank you, Acadian! You’re so right, Jerric does not have much variety on his Speechcraft wheel. I have been looking forward to the Gwinas part. He is a favorite.

ghastley: Darnand wants Gwinas in town in case the meeting doesn't work out. Then he could try to find out how he made contact with the Sponsor and set up his own meeting, or turn the information over to the Blades. He is feeling the pressure to get results with Jerric out of the picture. Thank you, ghastley!

SubRosa: Lil in a gown always makes me smile. Phintias is lucky Darnand didn’t leave a scamp in his shop when he stomped out. Good thing he has too much love for all those innocent books. Thank you, SubRosa!


Next: Let’s find out what the Nords are up to in Morrowind.

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Chapter 18: The Path of Dawn, Part Three

Jerric gazed idly at the towering shelves. They ran the full width of the building in rows too deep for him to see the back from this angle. Each one was packed to the ceiling with books and scrolls. “This library looks like a harpy’s nest,” he said. “How do you find anything?”

“Keep your voice down,” hissed Nereli. “You don’t find anything. You have to ask to look at a book.”

“I don’t want to look at a book,” Kjestrid murmured.

“You need information,” said Nereli. She gestured toward the desk at the front of their line. “That’s where you get it.”

Gjaever appeared to be asleep on his feet. He still wore the shirt he had been given in Mattapi. It still failed to close over any part of his torso.

“We look like a bunch of scholars,” said Jerric. He cut his eyes at Shamir-do.

The Khajiit responded with the squint that denoted amusement.

“I don’t fit in here, either,” Nereli said.

Jerric looked at the other library patrons, then back at Nereli. Her grey cheeks and nose were freckled by the sun, hair cut straight and plain at chin level like Kjestrid’s. She had probably made that faded tunic herself. Their neighbors in line wore robes in a rainbow of jewel tones, all trimmed in metallic braid. Stiffened shoulder pieces in imitation of the Redoran peaked pauldrons seemed to be the fashion. Most of the Dunmer had black hair and red eyes, like Nereli. However the city elves wore their hair sculpted in styles that must need paste to hold them together.

“Nah, you don’t,” said Jerric. “You look like one of us.”

Nereli shot him a look of pure gratitude.

When the group in front of them shuffled off, Kjestrid and Nereli stepped up to do the talking. Jerric assumed his guard posture behind them. Gjaever did the same at his side. Shamir-do stood in the middle. He seemed most comfortable when surrounded by the Nords.

The clerk behind the desk wore dark gloves and protective sleeves over his robe. He flicked his fingers impatiently as Nereli handed over her credentials.

“We need to find the best way to County Bruma, in Cyrodiil,” she told him.

The clerk said something in Dunmeris.

“That’s what we’re asking,” said Nereli. “We need to find the fastest way that we can afford.”

The clerk spoke to a slim youth in a trim-fitting tunic. The lad darted off between the stacks without comment.

“He’s getting something,” Nereli explained over her shoulder.

Jerric kept his eyes on the clerk. There would be time later to jest about these stuffy elves.

When the runner returned, Kjestrid and Nereli put their heads together over the scrolls he had retrieved. The clerk smoothed them out on his work surface and spoke, still in Dunmeris. Nereli’s replies were too soft for Jerric to hear.

After a time, Shamir-do whispered, “Azura.” His cat ears apparently had no problem with Nereli’s reserved tone. When Gjaever grunted agreement, Jerric recalled that the big Nord could understand the clerk’s gibberish.

“Hey!” said Jerric, loud enough to make the runner flinch.

The clerk switched to Tamrielic without apology. “If you use the Gate at the shrine on Azura’s coast to reach the one in Cyrodiil, you will have to travel farther than you would if you simply walked across Tamriel.”

“Where—” Kjestrid started.

“I am not going to discuss the particulars with you,” the Dunmer interrupted.

Nereli spoke up. “Then where do you suggest we go in Morrowind in order to exit through the Gate at the Shrine of Azura outside Cheydinhal?”

“How can it be farther?” Jerric asked over their shoulders. “Is Moonshadow that big?”

The clerk glared at a point above Jerric’s head. “First you travel to Azura’s Coast. Then you travel across Moonshadow.”

Jerric’s hands wanted to measure the clerk’s neck. He scratched his groin to distract them. “So it is that big. You could just say so.”

“I did say so,” the Dunmer snapped. “That is exactly what I said!”

“Where should we go?” Kjestrid asked.

The clerk answered by speaking to Nereli. “There is a small shrine in the hills about a half-day’s walk south of the city, here. They have no stable Gate to Moonshadow, but the priestess may open a portal for you. However first you must gain permission from Azura.”

“Permission to travel,” Kjestrid said as if confirming her understanding.

“Permission to ask,” sniffed the clerk.

“Are you serious?” Jerric said. “Gods blood!”

“How do we summon her?” asked Kjestrid.

“You expose your ignorance, outlander. You cannot summon the Mother of the Rose as if she was some winged twilight for your amusement. The priestess will submit on your behalf during her usual rituals. Then, if your petition is acceptable, the priestess will relay The Lady’s terms. Only upon agreement will she open the portal for you.”

“All right,” said Kjestrid. “How often does she do her rituals?”

The clerk made a dismissive gesture. “We do not keep her schedule here. Next!”

Kjestrid drew the group away before anyone could give in to violence. “Sounds like you were right, Shamir-do. Azura is sheltering her devoted in response to the Oblivion war. This kind of travel is outside the scope of our contract. What do you all think?”

“I will take the Dunmeth Pass to Windhelm and then walk across Skyrim,” said Gjaever. “I would rather shave my beard than step through another cursed portal.” He placed a heavy hand on Jerric’s shoulder. “Good journey, my friend. It was an honor.”

“For me too,” said Jerric. “But no farewells yet. Won’t we see you again as we all prepare for our trips?”

“If he has to speak, he likes to get it all out at once,” Kjestrid said.

“This one will travel with Jerric. Khajiit wants to see what trouble he will cause in Moonshadow.”

“Didn’t have to tell me that, cat,” Jerric grinned. “Besides, how would we get Azura to even talk to us without your sugar-whiskers on our side?”

Shamir-do smoothed his whiskers. “Moon sugar is a ritual and a right. Not a condiment.”

“I for one hope we meet as few daedra as possible.” Kjestrid turned to Gjaever. “We haven’t replaced all of your gear yet. Stay with us a while longer. I’ll see about getting the Redorans to cover our bills. Plus as much extra as I can squeeze out of these bone-wearing knife-ears.” She glanced at Nereli. “That is, out of our noble hosts. Thank you for coming along today, Nereli. That stuffed robe wouldn’t have spoken to us without you.”

Nereli shrugged. “What else do I have to do? Besides, I have a debt to all of you. I wish I was more help at the hearing.”

Jerric gave Kjestrid an encouraging punch on the shoulder. “If anyone can get us paid, it’s you. See you afterward at the Guild Hall. In the meantime I’m going to get a drink and catch up with my Breton.”

“Does he have some gold?” Kjestrid asked as Jerric walked away. “Hey! We’re in a bind for money here! Where did you get the gold?”

Jerric waved a hand as if returning a farewell. Whether by fight or by favor, it should not be difficult to get a drink in any city.

Outside he picked a random direction and strode into the crowd. After a block he noticed Nereli had joined him, trotting the occasional few steps to keep up. As usual she looked like someone had just pissed in her saltrice.

Jerric didn’t slow his pace. “What do you want, Nereli? A fight or an angry hump? I don’t have any tales to amuse you and we already trained this morning.”

Nereli ignored his rudeness. “A drink sounds good. I don’t have any gold either.”

Jerric didn’t speak for another half block. “You pick us a corner club. We’ll figure something out.”

.

This post has been edited by Grits: Mar 26 2019, 08:26 PM

[Acadian]

Snooty Dunmer are perfect for keeping Jerric in good form. And that library certainly had some!

So it looks like most of the crew is going with Jerric to try sweet talking Azura into a lift back to Cyrodiil.

Funny at the end. Jerric and Nereli seem to get on pretty well – broke and needa drink.

[SubRosa]

I liked the contrast between the regular city elf library patrons and Jerric et al. Quite a difference!

Jerric’s hands wanted to measure the clerk’s neck.
This is wonderfully descriptive

she looked like someone had just pissed in her saltrice
this is another great description

I am liking Nereli. She is wonderfully down to Nirn. Such a great contrast to the other city Dunmer.

To the cornerclub we go! Sounds like Loria's way of hiring mercenaries...

I am looking forward to seeing Moonshadow, if indeed it is a trans-dimensional romp in the future. Visiting a Daedric Realm that is not entirely hostile will be a pleasant change.

[ghastley]

If this is true: "If you use the Gate at the shrine on Azura’s coast to reach the one in Cyrodiil, you will have to travel farther than you would if you simply walked across Tamriel.” then why are they considering it?

I seemed like a good idea at the time?

Gjaever is taking the shortcut, apparently.

[Renee]

My favorite quote from the latest chapter...

“All right,” said Kjestrid. “How often does she do her rituals?”

The clerk made a dismissive gesture. “We do not keep her schedule here. Next!”

I hope they don't encounter too many daedra either.

[Grits]

Previously: The Morrowind crew decided to petition Azura for passage through Moonshadow. Gjaever is going to walk home across Skyrim instead.


Acadian: Nereli’s situation is too close to Jerric’s recent losses for comfort, but he can’t turn down a fellow traveler who needs a drink. Thank you, Acadian!

SubRosa: Jerric’s “Main Quest, Mostly” adventure has rather grown in scope. Nereli has been fun to write alongside Jerric. She does not expect kindness or sympathy or for things to work out in her favor. When her life falls apart, she just packs her bag and goes on living. Thank you, SubRosa!

ghastley: I am sorry about the confusion! There were two routes through Moonshadow under consideration. One is through a stable Gate that in this story Azura’s followers have opened at her shrine on Azura’s Coast. This is the shrine you find in the Morrowind game. They are told that would be the long way since the trek through Moonshadow from the Azura’s Coast Gate to another stable Gate that Azura’s followers have opened at her Cheydinhal shrine is longer than they expected. They didn’t know this until the grumpy librarian looked it up for them. (Darnand is going to be upset that they didn’t copy his Moonshadow map.) The way they are pursuing now is through a temporary portal that they hope the local priestess will open for them at a nearby hill Shrine to Azura that is not in any game. Theoretically she could place them closer in Moonshadow to their planned exit through the Cheydinhal Gate with Azura’s cooperation. Jerric feels the time pressure to take a shortcut, and Kjestrid feels the responsibility to finish delivering him to Cloud Ruler Temple (or nearby) as she was tasked in their original Echo Cave patrol. Gjaever is done with this daedric nonsense. Shamir-do wouldn’t mind half-seeing Moonshadow. I hope that clears things up, and I’m sorry about the confusion! Thank you, ghastley!

Renee: These three Nords are a little out of place in a Dunmeri library. Thank you, Renee!


Next: Darnand and Lildereth have taken Jerric’s place following the Path of Dawn in Imperial City. Darnand has acquired Volume Three of the Mythic Dawn Commentaries.

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Chapter 18: The Path of Dawn, Part Four

The chamber door opened and then closed, admitting a surge of tavern noise from downstairs. Darnand stacked the books and moved his notes to make space.

Lildereth slid their plates onto the table. “Have you figured it out yet?” She placed a bottle of wine next to the water pitcher.

“‘Green Emperor Way where Tower touches.’ I have known the code since I read the first volume. The final book will complete the clue. I should think it will be a celestial reference. ‘Mage’s Hand,’ or the like. No, it will be an event that occurs daily and varies little with the seasons. Perhaps the midday sun.” Darnand poured the wine. “Before I go into the sewers, we should meet with Baurus.”

“You should meet with him,” Lildereth said. “I’m not trusted, remember? We don’t know what the Blades have told him about me. I don’t want to get skewered by a twitchy Redguard if he has some wrong idea.”

Darnand nodded. “I will seek him out at Luther Broad’s Boarding House, though it is likely that he has accommodations elsewhere. That location was compromised.”

“If you show yourself there, then you may be compromised. I can look for the Sponsor in the sewers and try to get that book away from them, but I don’t like my chances sitting out in the open for the meeting.”

“I will not send you down there alone. I suspect that they have precautions in place against just such an infiltration.”

Lildereth pressed a knuckle into her lip. “Instead of openly asking about Baurus, I could give Luther a message for him. Saying that he should look for you somewhere else.”

“I may have been seen with Gwinas, and you are here as my wife. We might both be in danger.” Darnand waved his fork around. “Even now the spiders could be watching us.”

Lildereth laughed. “Now that’s the right level of paranoid. In another minute we’ll have talked ourselves into skipping out on the whole caper.”

“In all seriousness, you may be overheard at Luther Broad’s.”

“I’ll be careful. When I say, ‘Mister Broad, please tell your friend who is in hiding to meet my friend who has the very important thing he needs so they can make their secret plan,’ I’ll whisper.”

Darnand regarded her for a moment.

“I’m jesting. Luther won’t even know he has a message until he checks his pockets. And he doesn’t smell like a man who uses a laundry, so eventually he will find it.”

“Then he will have to reach Baurus. That could take some time.”

“What else can we do now but wait? You’re not going to the meeting without telling him.” Lildereth took his forearm and slid her hands down until she held his between her palms. “Darnand, I can see what you’re thinking. Don’t risk it.”

When Darnand squeezed her hand, she let go. “I will not go alone yet. I shall wait until the day after tomorrow. That gives him two nights and a day to reach me. He may be dead, Lildereth. If he is living, he will come.”

“You said he knows Tar-Meena. Wait there, at the Arcane University. If he doesn’t show then we’ll go to the sewers together.” She opened his bag. “Here, let’s write the note.”

Darnand took the bag from her, giving her a sideways frown. He shoved his plate aside to make room for his pen case, portable ink well, and after a moment of shuffling, a palm-sized scrap of paper.

“Breton, if the note is that small, he’ll never find it.”

Darnand retrieved a blank half-sheet and placed it on the table. He readied his pen. “Will you compose the note, or shall I write it and then discard this page for the note you then dictate to me?”

Lildereth pressed close as was her way and looked over his shoulder. “I’ll save you the paper and tell you what to write.” She assumed a nasal tone, Darnand imagined meant to sound like him. “‘Dear Auntie, I am a mage come in place of your nephew. I await your...’ Hey! All right, I guess that will work. ‘Our friend will know where to find me.’”

Darnand’s pen paused. “You suppose he will know?”

“I suppose he’d better figure it out. I hope that Tar-Meena hasn’t gone on vacation. They say the Hist is calling its folk back to defend the Marsh.”

“Perhaps we should first verify Tar-Meena’s presence at the University.”

Lildereth’s chin poked into his shoulder. “Go ahead and write it. If you find out Tar-Meena isn’t there, we’ll come up with a different plan.”

Darnand finished writing and placed the paper to the side to dry. He cleaned his pen and replaced the items in his bag. “Where will you stay while we wait?” he asked, keeping his eyes on his task. Lildereth would sometimes answer with more detail when she wasn’t being observed.

“I’m sick of this hotel room,” she sighed. “But so far it’s been safe.”

Darnand recalled Brother Venco’s reasoning at their meeting in Weynon Priory. “If somehow we are mistaken and you are already under surveillance, an attack on your person would betray the extent of the enemy’s knowledge.”

Lildereth shot him a green look. “Perhaps I should arrange for an attack on your person.”

“Forgive me,” Darnand said. “I—”

‘DARNAND.’ Jerric’s mental shout made him flinch.

‘I am here. You need not push harder to compensate for the physical distance.’

‘Oh. What’s happening in Cyrodiil?’

‘Lildereth is with me. We have obtained the third book and have means to acquire the final volume. As Luther Broad’s is known to the enemy, we are writing a note so that—’

‘Sounds like the elf’s plan. Forget it, Baurus wants to catch these scamp humpers. Unless he’s in a shallow grave somewhere, he’ll be sitting at the bar with his stick out and a katana on his hip.’

‘You have saved us a needless delay, my friend. If he is there, how do you propose I approach him?’

‘Walk up, sit down, and tell him you have the book. Then do as he says slowly so that he doesn’t cut you. Bring Volume Three to show him.’

‘He has been out of contact for some time, according to Jauffre.’ Darnand said. ‘What if he does not come to Luther Broad’s?’

‘Use Tar-Meena as a contact and do what I would do. How do you get the last book?’

‘Directly from a cult member.’

‘Dammit, I wish I was there. Be careful. I don’t want to find your corpse in the Deadlands.’

‘I shall. What did you wish to tell me?’

‘Oh, right. I’m cutting through Moonshadow to the Azura shrine in County Cheydinhal, if the plan works. But first I have some puckered grey backsides to kiss. Every shortcut causes a delay with these bug munchers.’

“Say hello for me,” said Lildereth.

‘Lildereth says hello.’

‘Hello back at her. How’s my dog?’

Darnand turned to face Lildereth. ‘Can you see her?’

There was a moment of silence, but Jerric’s presence stayed in Darnand’s mind like heat through a shuttered window. ‘No, I can only see the elf. Hey! I can sort of see the elf!’

‘Excellent,’ said Darnand.

‘Ha! Now I’m going to—’

‘Spare yourself the trouble. I have already seen it.’

Lildereth laughed. “You look pained. It’s just like he’s here.”

‘What are you eating?’ Jerric asked. ‘I can tell you’re at a table.’

“Mutton,” Darnand said, both to Jerric and aloud.

“Do you remember the first meal we shared?” Lildereth said.

“Did you hear her?” asked Darnand.

‘It was mutton,’ Jerric said, a laugh in his mental voice. ‘From Flossy the venerated sheep of County Anvil.’

“He remembers Flossy,” Darnand said.

“Maenlorn likes to know who his food comes from.” Lildereth smiled into her goblet.

‘I’d murder for a bite of that mutton. Or a slab of good, Colovian beef.’

“He requests beef at our next meal,” Darnand said.

“I could go get us a fruit pie.”

‘I don’t know if she’s cruel or kind.’

Darnand pressed his fingertips against his temples. “Does your head ache?” he said aloud to Jerric.

‘Yeah. But it’s worth it.’

[Acadian]

Lil really shows her cloak and dagger expertise here. I love the mannerisms that you weave into the small elf. It will be interesting to see if Jerric’s approach works better than Lil's coded message. I’m also looking forward to the possibility of perhaps seeing Baurus. And maybe even Tar-Meena.

Jerric and Darnand are refining their communication link but I’m sure it is not very much fun for Darnand!

[SubRosa]

Sounds like Darny figured out the riddle much easier than I did.

“Will you compose the note, or shall I write it and then discard this page for the note you then dictate to me?”
He's learning!

Lots of nice spycraft here. Which of course is all going to be just tossed out the window because Baurus is probably just sitting there with his sword out looking for someone to kill! But still not as bad as a Peresphone plan: Kill everyone in the city until she gets to the one she wants...

[Grits]

Previously: Darnand and Lildereth made a plan to contact Baurus.


Acadian: Thank you, Acadian! Lil is a delight to write. You’re right, Darnand is never going to enjoy having a Nord inside his head. But being Darnand, he wants them to be very good at it!

SubRosa: Yikes, instead of cloak and dagger, Persephone is cloak and greatsword. I still chuckle remembering planning the scene where Darnand cracks the code. I had all these Jerric-style struggles and variations in mind, then Darnand sat down and knew it immediately. He can be so annoying! Thank you, SubRosa!


Next: Baurus, James Baurus.

Chapter 18: The Path of Dawn, Part Five

Darnand stood for a moment in the entry, letting his eyes adjust. Most of the patrons ignored him. The muscular Redguard seated at the short end of the bar met his eyes without any pretense of manners. He wore a katana at his hip. Baurus.

A woman in a worn dress and clean apron swiped her rag across a nearby table. “Care for a meal, sir? Drink?”

“No thank you. I shall take a seat at the bar.”

“Suit yourself.”

Following Jerric’s advice, Darnand walked slowly keeping his hands relaxed and visible. He placed his bag on the bar and sat down diagonally opposite Baurus.

The publican tipped his head back at Darnand in that odd way that some men use to greet one another. “What’ll you have?”

“I should like a glass of your house red, if you please.” Darnand withdrew his coin purse from the bag, leaving it open to expose the three book spines to Baurus. He and the publican exchanged coin for goblet. Then the Imperial walked to the far side of the bar.

Baurus flipped the bag closed.

“I am Darnand Penoit, a friend of Jerric’s. He is detained. I am here in his stead.”

Baurus took a sip from his tankard, letting his gaze drift around the room. “Baurus. What have you found out?”

“The fourth volume can only be obtained from a cult member.” Darnand placed Gwinas’s note beside his bag. “Gwinas had arranged a meeting with a Sponsor. He has decided against taking it.”

Baurus fixed his eyes on Darnand.

A chill went down his neck. “Jerric was surprised that the message came from his Aunt here in the city,” Darnand said. “He expected her letter to originate in the north.”

“Who has him?”

“Forgive me. I meant that he is delayed. To my knowledge he is not in anyone’s custody.” Brother Venco had been adamant that Jerric not be imprisoned and interrogated. Darnand did not want to accidentally cause a death squad to be sent to Morrowind.

Baurus folded the note and placed it back on the bar. “This just might be the break we’ve been looking for. Good work! We need to get that fourth book, then. If Tar-Meena is right, we can use them to locate the hidden shrine. They’ll pay for the murder of the Emperor. Once we know how to find them, it will only be a matter of time.”

“The code we have thus far reads, ‘Green Emperor Way, where Tower touches.’”

If Baurus was impressed, he didn’t show it. “Clever to hold the meeting in the sewers. They run underneath the whole city, with access points in every district. They can use them to move around without attracting attention. That’s what we do.”

“You are familiar with the Sunken Sewers?”

“Yes. Where is Gwinas now? We can question him after we get the fourth volume.”

Though Darnand had the same idea, he hesitated. “If we fail to acquire the final volume—”

“Do you know his whereabouts?” Baurus spoke softly, but his tone made Darnand want to back slowly away.

“Is it correct to address you as Sir Baurus? Jerric told me you were a member of the Emperor’s Dragonguard.”

“That’s correct.”

“Sir Baurus—”

“But I prefer that you don’t call me that.”

Darnand chose his words carefully. “We shall make them pay for what they have done. Jerric would say the same were he here. However it is not yet a crime to be a daedric scholar, nor to be a collector of daedric miscellany. I should not like for Gwinas to suffer more terror at my hands. Once I explained my purpose to him, he was swift to offer his cooperation.”

Baurus gave Darnand a long look. “Let’s go. I know that part of the sewers well.” He walked straight to the tavern’s main door without glancing back.

Darnand collected his belongings and followed, keeping a discreet distance behind Baurus. After only half a block the Blade turned into an alley. Here stacked shipping crates and barrels provided shelter for those inclined to public urination, judging from the smell. The alley opened into a sparsely planted courtyard. A raised, circular grate sat not three strides from a well.

Resolving to never again drink Elven Gardens water, Darnand walked to the sewer grate. He recalled Jerric’s tale of Baurus baiting a cultist into following him to a messy end in Luther Broad’s cellar. If Baurus intended him harm, Darnand would know within the next few moments.

Baurus lifted the metal grate and held it for Darnand. “Stick together,” Baurus muttered. He climbed down after Darnand, lowering the cover back into place.

Baurus did not attempt to murder him. Nor did he produce a torch, so Darnand refrained from casting a light spell. The ubiquitous cave fungi’s ghostly luminescence provided insufficient light for his peace of mind. When the clicking grumble of a mudcrab echoed through one chamber, Darnand cast a short-range life detection spell.

The crab’s purple life sign indicated unusual size and vigor. Baurus went around it without comment. Darnand followed. He supposed that while they did not seem to be sneaking, fighting every creature they encountered would draw as much attention as a light.

Sewer rats were more aggressive than the overgrown mudcrabs. When necessary, Baurus defended himself with his katana. Darnand kept his fire spells neatly contained.

Passing through some sort of water gates soaked them both to the thigh. Darnand ignored the floating matter that bobbed and bumped into him. Instead he thought about the complications one might encounter using sewers as primary travel routes. How did Baurus prevent the stench from following him in a plume? How did the cultists?

When they encountered goblins, Baurus called his targets. “This one’s mine!” Thanks to the Blade’s speed and agility, none managed to injure the two humans.

Eventually Baurus stopped outside a closed door. Stone stairs hugged the wall going up, making a turn at the top.

He spoke in a hushed tone. “All right. The room with the table is just through this door. I always wondered who put it there. I happen to know that if you go up the stairs there, you’ll get a vantage point on the meeting room. I think I’d better be the one to handle the meeting. You’ll be my backup. Keep watch from above in case of trouble.”

“They know who you are, Baurus. I will meet the Sponsor.”

“No, it should be me. I have a blood debt to repay these Mythic Dawn assassins. Besides, I’ve trained for this kind of thing my whole life.”

“We must exercise caution. Remember why you assigned this task to Jerric. If you are recognized, they may simply vanish. I understand your desire to spill their blood. Take heart. Should our plan go awry, I shall rely upon your training to keep me alive.”

“Very well, we’ll do it your way. Be careful, and remember, we can’t leave here without that book. It’s our best chance of getting the Amulet back.”

“I am ready.”

“Okay, let’s do this.”

Darnand dispelled his life detection, concerned that the Sponsor might perceive it and become suspicious. He watched Baurus silently climb the stairs then turn into the doorway and out of his sight.

His door’s hinges made a metallic squeal when he pushed it open. On the other side he found a high-ceilinged chamber, dry apart from a trickle through drainage troughs in the floor. Above his head a walkway stretched across the room. Baurus must be hiding there, having entered through the doorway on the right.

A small table with a single chair stood near an iron-gated doorway. Candles provided enough light to see to the chamber’s corners. Sweat prickling his chest and armpits, Darnand walked over and took a seat. He placed the three volumes of Commentaries on the Mysterium Xarxes on the table. His bag’s shoulder strap hooked over the chair back as if he was in some library or kahve shop.

Almost immediately an Altmer wearing a blood-colored robe entered through the iron gate. He appeared unarmed. A ring gleamed on one black-gloved hand. He strode to the table and loomed over Darnand, his back to the walkway.

“You are not the Bosmer Gwinas,” he intoned.

Darnand had not prepared for the fury that surged through him. He spoke slowly in the hope that his voice would not betray him. “Gwinas was not worthy of having his name cut into our Lord’s book. I took his red-drink and offered it to the Garden of Dawn. Will you act as my Sponsor?”

The Altmer bowed his head as if accepting an honor. “I am Raven Camoran.”

“Darnand Penoit.”

Raven began to pace in the way of the pompous and arrogant. “So. You want to become one of the Chosen of Mehrunes Dagon. The Path of Dawn is difficult, but the rewards are great. I have the book you seek. With it and the Master’s three other books, you will possess the key to enlightenment. But do you have the wit and strength to use the key you have been given? If so, I will see you next at Dagon’s Shrine. Yes, I think you may...”

A dim light appeared in the doorway at the walkway’s far end, opposite the one which Baurus must have entered. Torchlight.

Camoran might be carrying the fourth volume on his person. The books were certainly charmed against wear, but Darnand did not wish to test the enchantment with fire. He brought a shock spell to the front of his mind. “I do not think that I will see you there.”

A shout and the sound of daedric summoning came from the upper left doorway. An instant later, two armored figures charged onto the walkway, their attention directed at Baurus’s end. One held a torch.

“You were instructed to come alone!” Camoran cried. “Brothers, kill them! The Dawn is Breaking!”

“For Uriel Septim!” Baurus howled.

As Raven raised a hand into the air, Darnand pushed back from the table, knocking it over. The candles snuffed out on the floor. Lightning bolts shot from his outstretched palms and met the shield that Camoran cast on himself.

The Altmer staggered but kept his feet. He whipped a hand forward. As Darnand dived behind the table, Camoran’s shock spell sent it flying.

Every spell that came to mind ended in fire. Cursing his lack of preparation, Darnand heaved the chair at Camoran. Baurus leaped from the stairs, landing in a deep crouch. As the Altmer regained his balance, Darnand’s shock spell knocked him backward. A bloody blade appeared protruding from his abdomen. Baurus pushed Camoran off of his katana, twisting the blade as the Altmer dropped to his knees. His scream ended when Baurus sliced off his head. Blood spattered in an arc which included Darnand.

“That’s three more that won’t be reporting back to their Master,” said Baurus.

Darnand wiped a sleeve across his face. “You preening, flap-tongued canker,” he growled at the blood pooling between Camoran’s head and body. “Your pestilent cult took everything from him. He loved his family more than his own life, and you took them all.” Darnand slowed and deepened his breathing to help his heart rate return to normal. This anger was not going to simply fade away.

Baurus cleaned his blade. “That could have gone smoother. Can’t say I minded killing a few more of these bastards, though. Get the book and let’s get out of here.”

Darnand patted Raven’s corpse, avoiding the spreading evidence of death. As expected, the Sponsor had a copy of the fourth book tucked into his robe. Darnand also helped himself to what turned out to be an enchanted ring. A fire shield. This will be useful in your Lord’s Deadlands. You cursed, soulless—

“That’s the book we need?” asked Baurus.

The volume’s weight in his hands brought Darnand back to himself. He turned his attention to the text. “‘Green Emperor way, where Tower touches midday sun’.” He snapped it closed. “As I suspected. The books mention bringing four keys. Jerric is adamant that we give copies to Tar-Meena, but I believe we will need all four volumes to gain entry to the shrine.”

Baurus jerked his chin at the walkway above. “Let’s check back there. They must dwell here if they’re ready to pop out every time a potential cultist comes calling. I’ll wager they keep a supply somewhere.”

The cultists indeed kept a supply in their nearby living quarters. Baurus handed copies of the first three volumes out of a trunk. “Today’s your lucky day. Take these to Tar-Meena. If you catch her in the morning, you can get to Green Emperor Way in time to figure out the tower business.”

“It will be the White Gold Tower,” Darnand said. “Once I know the shrine’s location, where should we meet?”

“At The Foaming Flask in the Talos Plaza district. Tell your elf that I won’t be followed. I look forward to meeting her.”

“Her name is Lildereth.”

Baurus reached his arm out and clasped Darnand’s. “Take care, Penoit. I’m glad to have you on our side.”

.

This post has been edited by Grits: Apr 16 2019, 08:47 PM

[ghastley]

I assume Darnand's anger at Raven Camoran relates to Kvatch, but maybe that part needs a more direct reminder? It reads like it's a personal grudge against Raven himself.

Otherwise a nice adjustment of the vanilla to the non-standard personnel. Was most of Raven's dialogue straight from the game? I'm looking forward to finding out what devious stuff Lil's getting up to in parallel to this.

Nit: Cameron, Camoran, and there could have been other spellings I didn't notice.

[Acadian]

Wonderfully done! As ever, it is fun traveling with Darnand and enjoying his very different storytelling, ways of speech and mannerisms (compared to The Nord).

I loved the very hard edge you put on Baurus that rendered him into quite the imposing character.

The brief fight scene was perfect, with wonderful descriptions of magic vs magic vs blade.


Nit: ’Sweat prickling his chest chest and armpits, Darnand walked over and took a seat.’ - - Looks like an extra leftover ‘chest’.

[SubRosa]

Ewwww, public urination crates!

Crabs of unusual size? I don't think they exist...

What a gross trip through the sewers. I hope Darnand knows a Cleanse spell to get it all off of him afterward.

Looks like Baurus went to the Persephone school of spycraft: We go in and kill everyone!

Nice play by Darnand with the explanation of why he is not Gwinas. He's pretty good at playing the evil wizard. Maybe a little too good?

Baurus definitely went to the Persephone school of spycraft!

[Renee]

Yah! Congrads on getting that Mysterium tome. Hopefully Baurus won't double-cross somehow in the future. It's been that long since I've done the Main Quest, that I don't remember what exactly happens anymore during most of it.

I am referring mostly to the part when Darnand is looking at Baurus, glad he hasn't gotten murdered! Yikes.

[Grits]

Previously: Darnand and Baurus acquired the fourth volume of Mankar Camoran’s Commentaries, killing Raven CamOrAn in the process. (After all these years you’d think I’d get the names right!)


ghastley: Raven’s dialog was almost entirely from the game. You are correct in thinking that Lildereth is not sitting quietly in their inn room during all of this. I changed Darnand’s outburst a bit to hopefully make it clearer. He was very much surprised and confused by his emotion, but it wasn’t supposed to confuse the reader. Thank you, ghastley!

Acadian: Whoops, Darnand’s chest is not so imposing that it needs to be named twice. I’m glad you enjoyed this Darnand’s-eye view of Baurus. I always thought he must be much scarier than the Hero of Kvatch gets to see in the game. Thank you, Acadian!

SubRosa: MCOUSes! Glad you spotted that little tribute. Baurus finally got to spill some blood! He has been waiting for that all these months by himself in the IC. I imagine he might have gone on more of a Persephone-style rampage if they kept him waiting a few millennia. Evil wizard dialog does roll off Darnand’s tongue with alarming ease. Thank you, SubRosa!

Renee: A while ago in the story in an incident that doesn’t happen in the game, Darnand was snatched up and questioned by the new guy in charge at Weynon Priory, Brother Venco (also not in the game) and then released with Jerric. Darnand is still jumpy around the Blades. Thank you, Renee!


Next: Meanwhile, in Morrowind...

.

Chapter 18: The Path of Dawn, Part Six

Jerric pushed the door open, lifting his elbow for Nereli to duck underneath. Incense didn’t cover the smells of leather balm, solvents, and sweat. A Fighters Guild hall must smell pretty much the same in any province.

The large entrance chamber was empty apart from a uniformed guild porter. They exchanged nods, then made their way down a side passage to the common quarters lounge. There Kjestrid sat with Shamir-do at a low, round table. Kjestrid held a bracer on her knee, working at a buckle. Shamir-do was occupied with his arrows. None of the local Fighters Guild members seated around the room looked up or greeted them when they entered.

Jerric sat down at Kjestrid’s table. “Did you get a contract?” he asked.

“An extermination job. Some lady had rats in her basement.”

“Ha! You must have been the most overqualified rat catchers in Fighters Guild history.”

“Maybe so,” she said. “Any help from your mind-talking Breton?”

“I didn’t ask him for money, but we made some gold, too.” Jerric nudged Nereli, who still stood beside him.

“Doing what?” asked Kjestrid. “Drinking competition?”

“Show her.”

Nereli withdrew their earnings from her pocket with dramatic flair. Her presentation met trouble when she got the pouch tangled up in her tunic. Eventually she thumped it onto the table with a satisfying jingle.

“Mara’s heart!” Kjestrid exclaimed. “How did you get all this?”

Jerric gave Nereli a proud shove, making her stagger sideways. “This one’s a born bookmaker. She’s wasted on the Fighters Guild.”

“He did the work,” Nereli said, pointing unnecessarily at Jerric. “Rutting, dicing, and fighting. I just collected the coins.”

Kjestrid’s brows climbed high as an Altmer’s. “Do I want to hear this story?”

“Please,” purred Shamir-do, “this one must hear it.”

“There will be time on our way through Moonshadow,” said Jerric. Or we can all forget about it. “Where’s Gjaever?” He got up and began to walk toward their assigned chamber, affecting a tuneless whistle.

“Splitting wood and hauling water,” said Kjestrid. “Come on, elf, pull up a chair and favor us with some company.”

Nereli sounded like she’d remembered how to smile. “The first fight was with this big Cyrod,” she started.

Jerric turned back to make sure she told it right. “The s’wit picked a fight with me. Over the way I looked at his lady.”

“Ah,” said Shamir-do, “The Nord learns to speak as a local.”

“Jerric let the fetcher knock him down,” Nereli continued. “It was after he won us some gold cheating at dice.”

“The troll-humper tapped my nuts,” said Jerric. “I just took a little rest on the floor. I don’t throw fights, and I don’t cheat at dice. I play to win.”

“He means the Cyrod’s lady looked like a troll,” Nereli explained, her tone completely earnest. “That’s why he was looking at her.”

Jerric shook his head and mimed a large bosom.

Nereli ignored him. “They left and this orc started talking tough, so I used our dice winnings to make a wager. By then the Nord was back on his feet. She caught him under the chin and laid him out flat.”

“The orc laid Jerric flat,” Kjestrid said to clarify.

“I didn’t know there was a wager,” Jerric said. “Or that I was in another fight. And my eyes were still wet from the Imperial stone cracking.”

“I kept taking bets while she gave him a pounding. It looked bad for us, but I had a plan to slip out the side door if we lost. Then Jerric rose from the dead and got her around the neck.” Nereli demonstrated the choke with her own arm and throat.

“After that a couple of Dunmers thought they could take me,” said Jerric. “One of them got me with his heel. As pretty a hook kick as I’ve ever failed to duck. Once they stopped bleeding and everyone paid up, Nereli helped me put my teeth back in straight.”

Kjestrid squinted at him. “Straight compared to what?”

“Khajiit thinks there is more to this tale.”

Jerric gave his teeth an experimental rub. “Yeah, I had to pay for some elf furniture. And I think there’s some that I haven’t heard yet. Nereli can tell me later. Who wants a drink?”

Nereli had other plans. “After the fights Jerric boned some people in the alley. He doesn’t know I made them pay.”

Kjestrid’s expression made Jerric want to explain even more than he wanted to strangle Nereli. “It was only two people, one at a time like civilized folk. I needed to be sure my,” he gave his crotch a brief hoist, “didn’t, uh, receive lasting damage from the Imperial. The money part is news to me. Must have happened while I was outside.”

Nereli slowly shook her head, in thrall to the memory. “I never had any luck turning tricks in Mattapi. I should have been selling Nord rides instead.”

Shamir-do made a choking noise.

“Fur ball?” asked Jerric. He took the opportunity to wallop the Khajiit between his shoulders.

“Now I know you’re jesting,” said Kjestrid.

“A fight makes some folk randy,” Jerric said. “I merely helped out a new acquaintance or two. It wasn’t some kind of Dunmeri cluster hump.” He stifled a sigh.

Kjestrid said, “I mean I’m having a hard time seeing how you’re not the one who paid.”

Jerric placed a hand over his heart in a mock-wounded gesture.

Nereli had more to tell. “After we put his teeth back in we had a drink with some of the folk who didn’t lose money on the fights. When he went to the alley with just the one, her friends were jealous. I saw another earning opportunity. I told them for a price I would put in a good word. Also that he’s free-born and favored by Sanguine. Course, I thought I was lying about that last part.”

Kjestrid had abandoned her mending. “I guess you have Sanguine’s attention now. Is this going to cause trouble for us? With Azura?”

“I’m not any kind of daedra worshiper,” Jerric told her. “I have an agreement with Sanguine, nothing more. Though there’s no shame in that kind of work.” Saying so didn’t make it true. He had been acting like a self-indulgent idler, not a Knight Brother of the Blades. “Anyway now we have some money and I feel a lot more relaxed, if anyone wonders. How much did you get from the Redoran?”

Kjestrid was already counting coins. “With this and our rodent slayer earnings, enough to start Gjaever on his journey, pay our bills here, and buy a few days’ trail rations. It will be easier to transfer funds once we’re in Cyrodiil, so I’m not as concerned about the trip from Cheydinhal to Bruma. Shamir-do says that if we strike a bargain with Azura, her followers will take us through Moonshadow without charging for every little thing. Whatever Azura wants will be our price. If we don’t strike a bargain it will be a long walk or however long it takes us to save up the fares. We’ll have to pay with our swords either way. Or some of us with their wizard’s staff.” She snorted at her own jest.

“Let’s hope we strike a bargain,” Jerric said. “I need to get home to my friends.” Home. It wasn’t a place any more.

“I’m going to Moonshadow,” Nereli announced.

Shamir-do’s ears only flattened for an instant this time. He must be getting used to her.

“I’m not Gjaever, but I can help with whatever we need to do,” she continued. “I’m no more welcome here than I was in Mattapi. Redoran or no, they look at me like they can smell the ash. I only got so many wagers on the fights because the whole corner club wanted to see me lose.”

Jerric was torn between curiosity and the responsibility that knowing might bring.

Kjestrid saved him the decision. “What in the hells are you talking about?” she asked Nereli.

“I’m an Ashlander,” Nereli said, using the patient tone that made Jerric want to punch her. “I wasn’t born in the mountains or this city. I forget that you outlanders can’t tell one accent from another.”

“That’s because you all sound the same,” Jerric said.

“When we speak Tamrielic. I learned from the Redoran after I left home. My clan kept the old ways. I’ll be welcome in Moonshadow. You’ll see.”

“The next thing I’d like to see is an alchemist,” said Jerric. “Both of those lasses wanted to check me for crotch crawlers, as if any could find refuge on an elf. There’s no telling what sort of poles they’re used to climbing. I need to make a Cure Disease potion.”

Kjestrid pushed some coins across the table. “I suppose I can’t complain. You earned them.”

“You should go to a bathhouse, too,” said Nereli. “The wash basins here won’t splash that rind off you. You’re going to pollute the bed.”

“A good stable takes care of its horses,” Jerric said to Nereli before forgetting his point. He took the coins and rose to leave, tripping over a chair.

“Someone go with him,” Kjestrid said. “Or I’ll have to.”

“I’m drunk as a Nord,” said Nereli.

Shamir-do leaped to Jerric’s side. He linked their arms at the elbows in the way of Khajiiti friends. “Tell this one more about the boon Jerric has received from Sanguine.”

“Lies,” Jerric declared, letting Shamir-do steer. He thumbed his chest. “This is all Kyne’s handiwork.”

~~~

Dawn found the Bruma Fighters Guild members and their new recruit striding through the city. Blacklight’s laborers were already at work sweeping, scrubbing, and pushing hand carts. Jerric kept an eye out for Cyrodilic food or kahve stands, but saw none.

Gjaever walked in front beside Kjestrid. He wore a newly fitted netch hide jerkin, a second-hand pack, and a sort of cloak made from sleeping furs and a ground cloth. If he met any wolves or bears on his way through Skyrim, Jerric expected that they would take one look and choose to go a different way. The big Nord and the rest of the group parted ways at the city gate. Gjaever had already said his farewells. When the moment came he simply dipped his head in their direction and kept going.

Jerric, Kjestrid, Shamir-do, and Nereli stopped to watch him walk away. Then Kjestrid, who had the map, put their boots on the day’s road.

With Gjaever’s departure their number seemed diminished by more than one. Jerric kept an eye on Nereli to see what the Dunmer did when they passed fellow travelers. It seemed that no greeting was the preferred custom. Even casual eye contact was met with frowns. Perhaps they were considered lower status based on the Nords and Khajiit in their group.

The road was made of black crushed stone that made a grinding sound underfoot. A deep ditch ran along each side. He supposed that as in Cyrodiil, spring snow melt would bring seasonal flooding. Jerric was no stranger to trench-digging. The work that had gone into this road must have been considerable. He recalled a comment that Nereli had made on their walk down from Mattapi. ‘Nords don’t make the best slaves. They don’t last like Bretons.’ Looking at this road, he could guess which humans the masters had used on their building crews and which were more likely to be put to work indoors. No wonder his kind didn’t live very long. He began to understand Shamir-do’s persistent discomfort and anger.

Habit kept him scanning the roadsides for threats. The hills here were covered in low, clumpy grasses. Spiky plants as high as his waist stood among the rocks, their sword-shaped leaves edged in spines. The only trees at this elevation were single-trunked oddities whose twisting branches housed clusters of dagger-like leaves as long as his arm. The air felt crisp and dry despite the snow on the mountainsides. He found his waterskin nearly empty before he realized he had been drinking from it.

The trail to the hillside shrine was easy to find. Foliage had recently been cut away from the edges and dragged off rather than left in place. Probably to fuel the fires of pilgrims seeking refuge. Even before Kjestrid halted the group, a small sign bearing a moon and star confirmed his guess.

Kjestrid broke their long silence. “Nereli, you can go in alone, if it will improve your chances. We’ll give you time to get ahead of us.”

“I’ll stay with you,” said Nereli. “I told you the truth before. They’ll give me a place in Moonshadow, and I might help make your bargain favorable.”

The smell reached them at the same time they began to hear voices. A turn in the trail brought them within sight of a disorganized encampment. Shelters leaned against the rocks and scrubby trees. Elves squatted around fitful, smoky fires while their children stood in clusters, watching the newcomers with solemn eyes. Jerric recalled the joyful chaos at Meridia’s shrine in County Skingrad. That was a festival, he reminded himself. These folk are here because they have run away.

“Where..?” Kjestrid spoke in a hushed tone.

“This one will find out. Wait here.” Shamir-do shrugged out of his packs and strode off, his bearing as proud as a king’s.

Nereli had to scramble to catch up.

“I guess he’s more devoted than he let on,” said Jerric.

Kjestrid picked up Nereli’s packs. “Let’s find a spot and look like we belong here before someone comes along and gives us some chores.”

“Or a bill for the air we’re breathing.” Jerric shouldered the Khajiit’s belongings.

They hardly had time to chew up their mystery meat trail rations before a soft-faced Dunmeri lad in a pale orange robe found them. He bowed and made a graceful gesture. “If you please, come with me to the Sanctum.”

The farther they got from the camp, the cleaner and brighter became people’s clothing. These must be the attendants. About a third of them were Khajiit, half Dunmer, and the remaining few an assortment of mer and human. They wore all the colors of a coastal sunrise. If this was a small shrine, Jerric wondered what the big ones looked like.

The lad brought them past a series of outdoor altars to a round door in the side of a hill. Stone blocks made two wide steps up to a half-circle landing. Carved and painted tiles surrounded the door frame and arched lintel. Incense burned in bowls set on both sides of the top step.

Jerric noted that the door would swing inward. Nerves made him look above for traps. It was a small comfort to discover Kjestrid doing the same.

The Dunmer pushed the door open and stood aside, holding it for them.

Azura is one of the good ones. Her shrine won’t be decorated with butchered mortals. Jerric took a breath and stepped inside.

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This post has been edited by Grits: Apr 23 2019, 01:52 AM