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

[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...

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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.

.

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

[SubRosa]

“Mara’s heart!”
This makes me think of an old comic - I think Neil Gaiman's Sandman - where someone swore "By the Iron D**K of Thor!"


The Fighter's Guild reminds me of the smell of Gym Class.

Rats! Why is it always rats?

For a moment when Jerric said that Nireli was a bookmaker, I thought it meant she actually made books... Doh!

Don't they know the first rule of Fight Club!!

So Nireli is an Ashlander. That explains the cool reception she has gotten from other Dunmeri.

The lack of Dunmeri greeting one another reminds me of something I saw recently about things in American culture that perplex Non-Americans. They don't understand why we all smile at one another and say hi, start up conversations, and otherwise make nice with total strangers.

Well, let's hope Azura's shrine is not decorated with butchered mortals...

[Acadian]

Nereli did a great job relaying the boisterously profitable adventures of herself and the naughty Nord. Sounds like they make a good team. . . and Nereli seems to think so as well since she is now part of the Cyrodiil-bound crew.

Nicely described approach to Azura’s shrine. I’m looking forward to seeing the Mistress of Twilight!

[Grits]

Previously: The Morrowind crew made enough money to start their journeys. Gjaever headed off to the Dunmeth Pass. Jerric, Kjestrid, Shamir-do, and Nereli walked to the Azura shrine in the nearby hills.


SubRosa: This trip has a lot to do with cultural differences for Jerric, since he spent nearly his whole life in just two Cyrodiil counties. I would like to put Nereli in a game and see what she does. It would probably start with a rat quest! Thank you, SubRosa!

Acadian: Whew, I’m glad Nereli made some sense out of their story. Her and Jerric’s intoxicated ramblings had me scratching my head for a bit. Thank you, Acadian!


Next: The Shrine to Azura.

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Chapter 18: The Path of Dawn, Part Seven

The entry chamber held tall vases filled with blooming branches and smelled like sweet incense. Kjestrid was directed to an alcove on the right side, Jerric to the left. Racks and benches held Shamir-do’s and Nereli’s armor, packs, boots, and clothing. Pink robes hung in a neat row with soft-soled slippers lined up along the floor underneath. Some of the robes were cut to accommodate tails.

Kjestrid began to undress. “Keep your drawers on,” she mouthed at Jerric. She pointed at her undergarments and shook her head to illustrate.

The robes ranged in size from Altmer to Ohmes. Jerric found a decent fit and a likely pair of slippers. His last clean drawers had been a casualty of the corner club incident. There was nothing to be done about that now.

The shrine lad produced a basin of water with flower petals floating in it. Jerric looked to Kjestrid for another directive, but she was still tucking and tying in her alcove. “How much of me is supposed to fit in that?” he asked the Dunmer.

“Just your hands, sera.” He tilted his head at the towel hanging over his arm.

Jerric dipped, wiped, and shuffled over to make room for Kjestrid.

A pleasant gong noise announced the inner doors opening. A grey-furred Khajiiti woman in a purple robe appeared and ushered them through. Here tinted glass lanterns produced a rose-colored light. Their guide led them down a curving corridor lined with doorways and various objects that Jerric guessed must be art. They passed a female figure as tall as an Argonian, her skin pale lavender with patches of purple scales. She held her bat-like wings folded across a heavily muscled chest. Either makeup or tattoos decorated her hairline and brow. Jerric tried not to stare.

When they stopped at an ornate doorway, their guide spoke in a low tone. “You enter now into the presence of our Lady Azura, Prince of the Crimson Gate, Mother of the Rose, and Queen of Twilight.” Her voice carried the typical Khajiiti burr, but the accent sounded Dunmeri.

This room must be the Sanctum. The only Azura Jerric could see was a white stone statue of a voluptuous woman surrounded by more of the flowering branches. Incense smoke curled in lazy tendrils past her outstretched arms. She held a sun-like curved star in her right hand and a crescent moon in her left. The statue’s carved eyes were blank and her hair only a smooth shape at the top of her head, but her bare torso was modeled in enough detail to make Jerric check his robe.

On the floor at the statue’s feet reclined another Khajiiti woman, this one older and plumper than their guide. She wore her hair in thin braids wrapped around a spiky gold headdress. Pillows made a sort of throne for her. Shamir-do sat cross-legged on a cushion at her side. Nereli knelt beside him, her palms flat on her thighs.

With a formal gesture their guide indicated that they too should sit. She sank into a kneeling position like Nereli. Jerric decided to emulate Shamir-do and sat cross-legged, managing not to wobble as he lowered himself to the floor.

“You have the honor of speaking to our Reverend Mother Ra’tayah, high priestess of the Order of the Evening Sun,” said their guide.

Jerric cleared his throat.

“How should we address her?” Kjestrid asked. She had settled between Jerric and their guide, completing the circle.

“Reverend Mother or Your Excellency. You may speak directly to Her Excellency.”

Jerric decided to let Kjestrid do the talking.

“Your Excellency, thank you for meeting with us,” Kjestrid said.

The Reverend Mother inclined her head. “Shamir-do has informed me that you are not counted among our Lady’s devoted. What brings you to our humble shrine?”

“We became stranded here after traveling through the Deadlands,” Kjestrid began.

A hiss and the rattle of talons sounded out in the corridor. The winged twilight. Skin crawled along Jerric’s neck.

Kjestrid quickly continued. “We entered through a Gate that had opened in County Bruma with the intent to close it. We are a patrol from the Fighters Guild. It was our good fortune that we have in our company Jerric Lionheart: Gate-Closer, Ice-Bringer, and Hero of Kvatch.”

The priestess turned her golden gaze on Jerric. “You are the one from Kvatch?”

Jerric stifled the urge to smack Kjestrid. “Yes, Your Excellency. I’m Jerric. Pleased to meet you.”

The priestess closed her eyes. For several moments the only sounds were the asthmatic hiss of the winged twilight’s breathing and the distant slow sweep of a broom.

“You have brought evil to this sacred place,” Ra’tayah said. “I sense it.”

Jerric’s mind was a blank.

“The sigil stone,” Nereli murmured. “I told you you should give it to the Redoran.”

“Oh! Uh, yeah. Yes, ma’am, your Reverend Mother. I have one of Mehrunes Dagon’s sigil stones.”

Ra’tayah opened her eyes to slits. “Why have you retained possession of it?”

“What do you mean? Ma’am?”

“Your Excellency,” Shamir-do hissed at him.

“She called you Gate-Closer,” said Ra’tayah. “I infer that you have closed at least one Gate before the one that brought you to Morrowind. What have you done with the other stones?”

“I’ve used a few. They hold powerful enchantments, better than any I could have made.”

Their guide drew in a shocked breath.

Jerric tried to remember what Darnand had said about them. “I’m no daedric scholar, Reverend Mother. What am I supposed to do with them?”

The priestess spoke in an icy tone. “Those sigil stones hold the power of a thousand captive souls. The ‘enchantments’ to which you refer are their imprints. You have noticed that they differ from one another? Those are the traces of lives lived and knowledge gained, all stolen by the foul minions of Mehrunes Dagon.”

“Oh,” said Jerric.

“Their spirits are now trapped, unable to reach the afterlives. You have used their soul energy to charm your trinkets. They pay the price, forever lost.”

Jerric’s stomach heaved. “I didn’t know. What can I do for them? Is there a way I can fix this?”

Ra’tayah rose to her feet, causing Nereli, Shamir-do, and their guide to quickly stand. “I will not have you bring the cursed thing into the Sanctum. Take me to your belongings.”

Jerric scrambled up and led the way to his pack. The sigil stone hummed against his palm when he withdrew it.

“Come, acolyte,” Ra’tayah said to the grey Khajiit, “And you, bring it. The others remain here.” The priestess strode down a side passage, hair beads clinking against her diadem.

Jerric followed Ra’tayah’s perfume trail into a small, dark chamber. As the acolyte closed the door, Ra’tayah flicked a shower of pink sparks from her palm. They floated up to the ceiling and hung there, lighting the space.

“To release the souls, you must destroy the sigil stone.”

“All right.” Jerric raised it over his head to dash it against the floor.

“No! With your will. You say you have used one to enchant an object. The process is the same. Simply intend its destruction.”

If he thought about it, he would never get it right. Jerric pushed the sigil stone with his mind. It dissolved as the others had, only this time instead of a flash of power through his body, a bluish cloud emerged from the shimmering dust. The cloud expanded outward and dissipated like a puff of breath in winter.

The priestess let out a long sigh, echoed by her acolyte. “It is done.”

“What happens now?” Jerric asked.

“The lost spirits will reclaim their souls, if they are able. Then they will have the strength to move on.”

“To Aetherius?”

“Some will enter the Dreamsleeve and separate, each spirit called to its Aetherial home while the souls are reborn in the Mundus. Others will travel to their Prince’s realm.” The priestess placed fingerclaws against her chest. “When this body dies, my soul will carry me to Moonshadow. There I will remain Ra’tayah. My life will continue in a new vessel of Azura’s making.”

Jerric braced a hand against the wall. “I gotta say, that has some appeal.”

The priestess bowed her head in acknowledgment.

“What about the stones I used for their enchantments?” Jerric choked back some bile. “Are those folk forever lost now because of me?”

“Break the enchantments and release the souls.”

“All right. Can I do it here?”

“You may.”

“Uh. Do you have a hammer?”

Kjestrid still had his brass and pearl Life Detection ring. Soon it lay smashed on the stone tiles along with his splintered soul trapping dagger and the shards of Redeemer. Thankfully Darnand had enchanted his Blades katana using conventional mean, albeit illegally.

"Wait, my dagger's enchantment wasn't fully charged. Did I just kill more souls?"

"I do not have all of the answers, Jerric of Kvatch." When Ra'tayah left the room, her little lights remained on the ceiling.

Kjestrid had brought the ring. She looked paler than usual. "I am sorry for… this," she said to Jerric.

"You didn't do anything. It's a mess of my own making."

"I know." She placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "I'm just sorry about it."

"Damn it all, Darnand's signet ring! He's not going to be happy when I tell him to break it. Gods, and my helm is still in Bruma. He might need some help with that one." Jerric rested his chin on Kjestrid's hand. "I should go ahead and do it."

“Wait until we finish here. Then you’ll have more to say.”

“I might have damned someone I knew. All of them could have been made after Kvatch.” Jerric gathered his broken pieces. “I wonder what Azura uses to make her sigil stones.”

“Probably volunteers.”

Seated back in the Sanctum, Kjestrid picked up the thread of their discussion. “Reverend Mother, we have learned that Azura has offered shelter in Moonshadow to her devoted.” She gave Shamir-do a nod.

“This one has received an invitation to Azura’s realm,” said Shamir-do. “His devotions have been found adequate. However, in this life Khajiit will not abandon his friends. Shamir awaits Azura’s decision.”

“I’m going,” said Nereli.

Kjestrid addressed the priestess. “Your Excellency, we wish to return to County Bruma and take up the fight against Mehrunes Dagon and his cult. It would help us to travel through Moonshadow to Azura’s Shrine Gate in County Cheydinhal from a portal you open here. The Shrine Gate on Azura’s Coast is too far for our needs. We need a shorter journey.”

“I see,” said the priestess. “I will go into seclusion. Azura welcomes mortals to her realm, but there is always a price.”

Kjestrid got to her feet. “Yes, Reverend Mother. There always is.”

The acolyte led them back down the central corridor and into a side chamber. Low, round tables surrounded by floor cushions filled the middle of the space. Ornate screens stood around the edges. The acolyte moved through the room lighting incense and fluffing pillows.

When the winged twilight stalked in, the acolyte folded her hands in a formal manner. “This is Dozara. Please stay here with her until you are summoned. Khajiit will send Renlys to see to your comfort.”

“What’s your name?” Jerric asked.

The acolyte paused at the door. “This one is called Ma’sani.”

“Thanks, Ma’sani. Pleased to meet you.”

Dozara’s eyes were an opaque red-violet. She wore her hair in a high ponytail that fell to her shoulder. It was purple. With feet like those, Jerric doubted that she needed weapons.

“I’m Jerric.”

Dozara’s voice sounded perfectly normal. “So I have heard.”

“Pleased to meet you. Are you from Moonshadow? I mean originally.”

Kjestrid kneed the side of his leg.

“What?” said Jerric.

Renlys turned out to be the orange-robed Dunmeri lad. He came in with a tray, knelt beside a table, unloaded a bunch of plates and bowls, then left.

This was a welcome distraction. Jerric, Shamir-do, and Nereli sat around the table. After a moment Kjestrid joined them.

Renlys returned almost immediately with a coral-colored wine. The goblets looked like they had been made from seashells. The four made a silent toast.

“Tastes like apricots,” Jerric said. His stomach settled.

“It is made from loquats,” Renlys told him.

“What’s a loquat?”

“It is a fruit that tastes like apricots.”

Shamir-do reached into the middle of the table and helped himself to the food.

Jerric took that as an invitation and followed suit. The first thing he picked up looked like a thumb-sized roach carcass stripped of antennae and legs, green nuts pressed into the white mush oozing out of its middle. He popped it into his mouth whole and chewed. “Hmm. It’s sweet.”

“Is it a bug?” asked Kjestrid.

“Nope. It’s a date stuffed with whipped cheese and some kind of nuts.”

Kjestrid filled her hand with them. “What kind of cheese?”

Nereli started to answer, but Jerric interrupted. “The sweet kind.” He shot a look at Renlys.

The Dunmer kept his mouth straight, but his cheeks lifted with a hint of amusement.

While he sucked bits of date out of his teeth, Jerric looked over the rest of the food. Most of it was unidentifiable. All of it was bite-sized to a Bosmer with no obvious rinds or bones protruding, so he dug in. The meatballs were spiced with cloves and nutmeg. Saltrice patties had been rolled in some kind of tiny eggs that stuck to his fingers. He decided that while he could do without chairs, plates, and utensils, it would take some practice before he didn’t need a napkin.

There was still some food left when Ma’sani appeared in the doorway. She dipped at the knees and moved an arm in the now familiar gesture. “Follow Ma’sani, if you please. The Reverend Mother will relay to you Azura’s decision.”

.

This post has been edited by Grits: Mar 17 2025, 09:49 PM

[Acadian]

Well, that got off to a poor start – sigil stones. . . who knew? It is good that Jerric was able to undo the damage the Reverand Mother told him about and that they were still able to receive an audience to ask for help.

A price? No surprise there and am looking forward to hearing of it.

Loved your descriptions, including the winged twilights. A fun episode, replete with good eats!

[ghastley]

This kind of meshes with a view of "soul trapping" that would make any enchantment distasteful to the Reverend Mother. A Sigil stone is just a multi-occupant soul gem, the way it's described here. So does Jerric now have to start releasing the individuals from any other items at Grand level?

And I didn't understand why Jerric is trying to destroy the physical items he enchanted, rather than just disenchanting them in the way you do in Skyrim - except that he doesn't have the apparatus for that, either.

Liked the way Jerric avoided giving Kjestrid any idea what she was eating. The old Jerric would have suggested it was bugs, and asked her if he could have hers, if she wasn't going to eat it.

[SubRosa]

The flowered bowl and the rose colored light were nice touches for the Mistress of Twilight's hangout.

Their guide led them down a curving corridor lined with doorways and various objects that Jerric guessed must be art.
I sometimes have this problem too!

I liked the Winged Twilight in the corridor.

The sigil stones work just like soul gems then. I always thought Bethesda's way of enchanting by devouring/destroying souls are rather vile, to say the least. I guess it says something about Todd Howard...

That was a wonderful description of the Azurite feast, it brought me into the same room with them. Definitely a step up from the hot dogs I had for lunch.

[Renee]

Their guide led them down a curving corridor lined with doorways and various objects that Jerric guessed must be art.

That had me giggling, "guessed must be art."

Jerric decides he'll just let Kjestred do the talking. Cute. What is Kjestrid, by the way? Nord? Breton? ... Khajiit?

It was our good fortune that we have in our company Jerric Lionheart: Gate-Closer, Ice-Bringer, and Hero of Kvatch.”

The priestess turned her golden gaze on Jerric. “You are the one from Kvatch?”

Jerric stifled the urge to smack Kjestrid.

Hee hee awesome.

What am I supposed to do with them?”

The priestess spoke in an icy tone. “Those sigil stones hold the power of a thousand captive souls. The ‘enchantments’ to which you refer are their imprints. You have noticed that they differ from one another? Those are the traces of lives lived and knowledge gained, all stolen by the foul minions of Mehrunes Dagon.”

“Oh,” said Jerric.

Sorry I keep quoting, but I'm laughing during this episode for some reason! Jerric is a hoot. I mean, it's a serious moment for sure, they're talking about souls trapped and how to release them. Jerric cracks me up though.

He really ate a roach? Yuck.

This post has been edited by Renee: May 3 2019, 06:08 PM

[mALX]

.

Chapter 17: Bruma, Part Twelve

They left the blowing salj behind and climbed through the pass to a high plain of grey ice.

The word you put in Italics here = I couldn't find a definition for it anywhere. Can you give me one so I can picture what you are saying here?

I think my favorite part of this chapter is Jerric trying to explain how to bring the gate down to his group! This was pure gold!

Second favorite part:

“Frost or frost magic?” Kjestrid asked.

Jerric blinked at her. “You make a good point. I don’t know.”

“It is said that the Hero of Kvatch ate the hearts of his enemies to give him power,” said Shamir-do.

Jerric pointed his apple at the Khajiit. “Savlian Matius does not eat people.”

Kjestrid snorted. “We all know who they’re talking about.”

“You’ll get to hear your own names whispered when we get back,” Jerric said. “I hope you don’t have to eat any hearts before this is over.” He tucked the apple core into his pack, reluctant to leave anything of home in this realm.

LOVE how Jerric thought of Matias as the Hero of Kvatch; and that whole discussion about eating the Daedric hearts and drinking the blood! Also, how Jerric pointed out that people would be referring to all of them as heroes when they emerged from this gate.

And = as painful as that was = I remember one lesson that Jerric taught here:

"There is nothing we can do for anyone here except close the Gate so they don’t get company.”

Excellent that you added that! That was a superb addition = really showing us what Jerric went through and faced in those gates that made him return to Anvil a shell of his former self!

I finally was able to get another trial reader to use; so am trying to catch up!







This post has been edited by mALX: May 3 2019, 09:01 PM

[Grits]

Previously: Jerric, Kjestrid, Shamir-do, and Nereli met with the Reverend Mother Ra’tayah at a shrine to Azura near Blacklight. In the Imperial City, Darnand and Baurus acquired Volume 4 of Commentaries on the Mysterium Xarxes.


Acadian: Whoever has to wash Jerric’s robe will regret giving him finger food. The stuffed dates were courtesy of my favorite Lebanese restaurant. I’ve had them twice since I posted this section. Thank you, Acadian!

ghastley: Back in Chapter 10 Morvayn told Jerric that his Kvatch Cuirass was so damaged that the enchantment had broken, so Ra’tayah’s instruction made sense to him. I wonder if a Skyrim enchanting altar would work on an Oblivion sigil stone-enchanted object? I think you need a mod to disenchant Daedric artifacts in Skyrim. Probably to prevent the re-use of unique enchantments. Thank you for pointing out Jerric’s evolving view of Kjestrid.

SubRosa: Jerric’s world has differing views of what souls are for and what they do, but he’s learning that using any of them for his own purpose is questionable at best. A large part of him would prefer to go back to the days when he tired himself out defending regular folks and their luggage, had a bit of fun before passing out, and didn’t think about yesterday. Too bad! Thank you, SubRosa!

Renee: Kjestrid is a Nord. She’s from County Bruma but still steeped in Skyrim culture, unlike Jerric. That’s part of why he’s often a bit confused by her. He ate a stuffed date that looked like a roach. It was inspired by the dessert case at a local counter-service restaurant. I was waiting in line one day and thought, wow, those dates are huge and look just like disemboweled insects. Heh heh, I know who would eat one… Thank you, Renee!

mALX: Salj is a made-up word that means granular snow. Sorry, now I realize I haven’t updated the Darnandex. Thank you for pointing out those things about how the Gate brought Jerric back to his core purpose. He loves to distract himself. I’m glad you found a way to read again! Thank you, mALX!


Next: Where Tower Touches Midday Sun.

.

Chapter 18: The Path of Dawn, Part Eight

Morning mist lingered over Lake Rumare as Darnand crossed the bridge to the Arcane University. The entry court with its sunken garden was guarded but otherwise empty of mages. He had not considered that the hour which suited his plans might not suit Tar-Meena’s. The University’s message system did not extend to private quarters.

The Arch-Mage’s Lobby was dimly lit and quiet. One mage drowsed behind the reception counter, while another hunched over a notebook. To his surprise, Lildereth sat on a bench beside an Argonian woman. The elf had already left their room by the time he had awakened. He had expected her to find him at the White-Gold Tower. As she had changed their plan, he would have to trust her to guide him.

“Here he is,” Lildereth sang out. “Tar-Meena, please meet Darnand.”

Once Darnand and Tar-Meena had exchanged pleasantries, he retrieved the Commentaries from his shoulder bag.

“Ah!” Tar-Meena took the books without touching them with her claws. “The third volume!”

“As promised,” said Darnand.

Tar-Meena’s eyes held the glint of a guar-trader. “Not quite. Jerric promised me all four volumes. I took a grave risk giving the library’s Volume Two into his care. And I note that this is not the book that I lent to him.”

“Our associate and I retrieved these copies directly from a cult hideout,” Darnand said. “I thought you would relish the opportunity to examine them and observe any differences.”

“I do. However, a side-by-side comparison—”

“We still need them, my friend,” Lildereth said to Tar-Meena. “When the Nord is finished they will all be yours, including the final volume. He is a human of his word.”

“Which associate invaded the hideout with you?” Tar-Meena asked Darnand, bouncing up on her toes. “Jerric or Baurus?”

While Lildereth let out a silent laugh, Darnand fought to keep from palming his face.

Tar-Meena’s eyes opened wide in exaggerated comprehension. She placed a raised finger over the front of her snout.

Conscious of time passing, Darnand folded his hands in a respectful gesture. “Thank you, Master-Wizard. May we continue to count on your support?”

“Oh yes! I am most curious about the location of the hidden shrine. Do let me know when you find the Mythic Dawn!” Tar-Meena gave them a finger wave and turned toward the inner doors, tail conveying her excitement over an obscure text to devour.

Darnand bent to murmur into Lildereth’s ear. “The town criers, the Black Horse Courier, and Tar-Meena.”

“Isn’t she marvelous?” Lildereth giggled. “It’s too serious to be funny, but I can’t help it. How in all the worlds did she gain that Redguard’s confidence?”

“Utter guilelessness, I should think.” Darnand opened the outer door and bowed Lildereth through. He maintained his deferential posture as a lower-ranking mage while they remained within sight of the University. As they walked he watched for her cue to resume their guise as a married couple. Eventually she took his arm.

“I was surprised to see you at the University,” Darnand ventured.

“I used you as an excuse to be there. I knew you’d need to send a message and then wait for Tar-Meena, so I went and got her for you.”

“I see. What was your true purpose?”

Lildereth patted her satchel. “Getting my stones back.”

“Your stones… You cannot mean the Welkynd stones? Did you not trade them to Master Floria as payment for Master Illusion training? Do you mean to suggest that you are carrying them all on your person? You must have been born under the Warrior.”

“I can, I did, I do, and I wasn’t.”

They walked a full block without her explaining further.

“Lildereth. Please enlighten me.”

She shot him an unfathomable look. “This is one of those things that I should have told you about. And now you’re going to be annoyed.”

“You posses a burglar’s bag!”

“By the Green! Why don’t you speak up so that all of the guards can hear you? I was right not to mention it.”

Darnand made an effort to keep his voice even. “When I recall the number of occasions on which we left items behind due to their size and weight—”

“Oh, you’re entitled to pack your stuff in my bags?”

“That is not my meaning. It is a matter of trust. In this I now learn that we are unequal. I follow your lead without recrimination when you change the plan. I have placed my life in your hands, even coupled with you, yet you have so little confidence in me that you conceal the enchantments upon your luggage?”

Lildereth halted, one hand on hip and the other pointed at his face. “First, that was only once—”

“Twice.”

“It was one occasion, and second, I knew you’d suspect all kind of negative things about me if you knew I had it, and I was right because it’s called a load lightener not a burglar’s bag, and—”

“Does it not presently hold at least ten stolen Welkynd stones?”

“That’s irrelevant.”

“How does it work?”

“Like a burglar’s bag.” Lildereth seemed to wilt. “Well, now you know.” She took his arm and resumed their stroll.

“My friend, what has occurred?”

“You asked me not to bring it up again which I wouldn’t have done anyway, and then you did and not in a nice way.”

“No, I meant— I am sorry. It is my failing that I should compound the awkwardness between us.”

“I thought we were through with the awkwardness. Unless you’re in the grip of some new disappointment.” She gave him a narrow look. “Did you expect to sleep with me while we were here alone?”

“No. Please put that from your mind. It was wrong of me to raise the subject, and doubly so in such a churlish manner. Perhaps my ineptitude in emotionally charged moments has not escaped your notice.”

“I can’t do the Master level spells,” she said, ending that discussion.

“Oh. Lildereth, I am sorry.”

They walked in silence for a time.

“You cannot learn them, or you cannot cast them?” Darnand asked.

“Can’t cast. I know my people’s magic the way my heart knows to keep beating, but I’ve had to work hard for the rest. Harder than you, and harder than any Nord born under the Atronach, I’d wager. My stars didn’t make me a mage. Study and practice did. But that’s not enough.”

“I cannot cast Volanaro’s Mischievous Concealment spell, despite being blessed by the Apprentice,” Darnand offered.

“Blessed and cursed. He really should come up with a better name.”

“Indeed.” Darnand decided to risk a personal question. “What stars marked your birth?"

“The Steed,” Lildereth murmured.

“That resolves many mysteries. I simply assumed that you were fast.”

Lildereth gave him a crooked smile. “I am fast.”

“Regarding your Master spells, have you considered a strong potion and an enchanted—”

‘Darnand.’

He placed his hand over Lildereth’s. “Hold a moment. It is Jerric.”

“I’ll keep you from stumbling, if you trust me.”

There was no acceptable reply but to keep walking. ‘I hear you. Lildereth and I have given three volumes to Tar-Meena, as you promised. We have embarked upon our midday stroll in Green Emperor Way.’

‘Good idea to bring the elf with you. She’ll make you look normal.’

‘What news from Morrowind?’

‘We’re going through Moonshadow. Azura has a task for us in County Cheydinhal. She wants to meet us in person first. Any advice?’

‘I only heard the voice of Meridia in the course of our exchanges. I confess I am quite out of my depth in this matter. Do your best not to stare, no matter what form Azura presents to you.’

‘That’ll be hard if she looks like her statue. Listen, you’re not going to like this. You have to break the enchantment I put on your signet ring. And go get my Blades helm and break its enchantment.’

‘Please explain.’

‘It’s the souls that were in the sigil stones. You have to release them. I’ll tell you all she said when I see you. Darnand, I’m sorry. You have to do it.’

‘Who—’

‘Dammit, I have to go. There’s a whole bunch of folk here waiting to go through.’

‘What sort of portal… Nord?’ He was gone.

“We’re here,” said Lildereth. She tugged on his robe as if straightening it across his chest.

“Thank you, my dear ‘wife.’ It is pleasant to perambulate among the,” Darnand glanced around, “tombs, is it not?”

Lildereth snorted. “If someone’s listening, we’re already sunk. Just try to look like a tourist and don’t do anything memorable. What’s happening with the Nord?”

Darnand filled her in as they strolled. Once Magnus reached the tip of the White-Gold Tower, they followed the foreshortened shadow. Lildereth’s knuckles were ivory against her brown hand on his arm. He recalled that she did not like unfamiliar magics.

No words from him would sooth her. He stepped off the main path’s paving stones and onto the grass.

Here most of the graves were contained inside mausoleums. Darnand led Lildereth slowly between the structures, keeping his eyes moving for the sign. Despite the ease with which he had cracked the Mythic Dawn’s code, a nervous flutter troubled his stomach. Perhaps he had missed something.

“Do you think you missed something?” Lildereth whispered.

“In only a few moments more, we will know.”

Red light flared from the shadowed side of a nearby tomb. As he stepped eagerly toward it, Lildereth yanked on his arm.

“Ah, come to see the Midday Miracle?” a woman’s voice sounded behind them.

This post has been edited by Grits: Mar 17 2025, 09:51 PM

[ghastley]

Do your best not to stare, no matter what form Azura presents to you.’

Clark is offering lessons

[Acadian]

“I can, I did, I do, and I wasn’t.”

Yikes, Darnand! Bringing up your intimate session with Lil during an argument was a really bad idea. Oh, I see Lil didn’t waste much time informing you of that.

Interesting conversation about birthsign/race and magic aptitude.

Ahah, another telephone telepath call from Jerric.

As the noon’s sun begins to do its thing, you leave us with the sudden salutation of a mystery woman – can’t wait to find out who she is!

[treydog]

Hooray for more Jerric and Co.! Let's get right to the good stuff! Well- that would be all of it, but... some selected morsels....

I completely agree that the player character should have reason to be afraid of Baurus. “You say you were there when the Emperor was assassinated? Tell me more.”

Oh my, Nereli is a treasure, although I imagine Jerric doesn't think so.

Kjestrid began to undress. “Keep your drawers on,” she mouthed at Jerric. She pointed at her undergarments and shook her head to illustrate.

Ah- good to know he has started wearing those....

Absolutely enthralled by the description of the shrine (and furiously taking notes).

And the fact that the sigil stones are- an abomination- makes absolute sense, especially when you think about the spires and Dagon and etc.

The sacrifice of the enchanted items- and the fact that he does it so quickly- tells us just how great a soul Jerric possesses. He is a hero in truth.

Have to laugh at Kjestrid being concerned that Jerric might be... chatting up... Dozara. Of course, with Jerric, it pays to be cautious....

“Tastes like apricots,” Jerric said. His stomach settled.

“It is made from loquats,” Renlys told him.

“What’s a loquat?”

“It is a fruit that tastes like apricots.”

That exchange caused me to spray my tea onto the keyboard.

You posses a burglar’s bag!”

“By the Green! Why don’t you speak up so that all of the guards can hear you? I was right not to mention it.”

“It was one occasion, and second, I knew you’d suspect all kind of negative things about me if you knew I had it, and I was right because it’s called a load lightener not a burglar’s bag, and—”

“Does it not presently hold at least ten stolen Welkynd stones?”

“That’s irrelevant.”

“How does it work?”

“Like a burglar’s bag.” Lildereth seemed to wilt.

Just perfect!

Perhaps he had missed something.

“Do you think you missed something?” Lildereth whispered.

They do the "married couple" so well....

[SubRosa]

Trust Lil to get a jump on things.

It was a nice touch how you included Tar-Meena's excitement being shown by her tail. Still, methinks she might not be secret agent material...

I always knew Lil had stones...

And Darnand takes a page from Tar-Meena's book of keeping secrets by announcing that Lil has a bag of holding.

It is definitely hard not to stare at Azura's statue.

Of course Darnand did not miss anything! Time for the midday miracle!

[haute ecole rider]

It is definitely hard not to stare at Azura's statue.

No matter what game you're playing

As others have already said, i really enjoyed the bickering between Dar and Lil - the dialogue really captures their relationship in a way that exceeds mere description.

[Grits]

Previously: Darnand and Lildereth found Where Tower Touches Midday Sun. So did someone else.


ghastley: Jerric would never leave Moonshadow! Thank you, ghastley!

Acadian: Darnand may have just tied with Jerric for the Foot-In-Mouth prize! I think Abiene is still in the lead, though. I like how the birthsigns give people another reason to resent other people for something they can’t control. Deep doen the guys probably resent Lil because The Steed doesn’t carry a curse like their birthsigns do. Thank you, Acadian!

treydog: The shrine gave me fits writing it. I’m glad those light moments made you chuckle. Jerric hitting on Dozara happened out of the blue as I was writing it. I laughed out loud in Panera! (Fortunately I was with some friends who also laugh, curse, and cry at their laptops.) It’s funny, Lildereth’s and Darnand’s POV sections are much more difficult for me to write, but I enjoy their scenes just as much. Thank you, treydog!

SubRosa: It’s no surprise I find Tar-Meena utterly charming. I was going to skip the book drop but I couldn’t resist seeing her again! I looked at all of the Azura statue pictures I could find before this chapter, and they all had two striking features in common. Maybe if he’s half-blind he’ll only half-stare. Thank you, SubRosa!

haute ecole rider: Thank you, haute! It’s hard for me to keep up with those two. At least when Jerric’s in the scene I can slow down when they have to explain something to him.


Next: “Ah, come to see the Midday Miracle?”

.

.

Chapter 18: The Path of Dawn, Part Nine

Darnand brought a Shield spell to mind in case she attacked, confident that if necessary Lildereth would discreetly disable her.

The woman wore an Imperial Guard’s armor. Because most likely she is a guard, he chastised himself. Her presence here does not make her a cultist, though she may suspect us.

“Oh, yes!” Lildereth bubbled. “Do you know where it is? We have been looking, but…”

“Right behind you!” The guard strode past and held out an arm in the manner of a tour guide. “Here, on the Tomb of Prince Camarril.”

“Oooooh!” Lildereth exclaimed. She leaned forward to look, but her hand remained clenched in Darnand’s sleeve. “Why does it do that?”

While the guard began her explanation, Darnand inspected the tomb. In a decorative panel on one wall a map of Cyrodiil glowed red under a rising sun. A large symbol appeared in the northeast corner.

“Where do you suppose that is?” Darnand asked, interrupting the guard.

She continued in the same cheerful tone. “As I was saying to your lady… wife? You’re his wife? As I was saying to your lady wife, I figure it’s near Lake Arrius. That’s in County Cheydinhal, about a half-day’s ride north of the city.”

“What do you suppose is there?” Lildereth breathed.

“I think it’s a secret family vault! Those hills could be peppered with ruins. Why not, everywhere else is! There could be a lair filled with traps and undead beasts, and you’d have to navigate through to get to the treasure.”

Darnand began to think that this guard was not on the scent of the Mythic Dawn after all.

Lildereth pointed a trembling finger at the glowing map. “With all of the rumors, how is it still a secret?” she stage-whispered.

“The map only glows at midday when a member of the Prince Camarril’s bloodline is near.” With slow drama the guard pointed a thumb at her own chest.

Darnand schooled his expression. Lildereth had this handled.

“You?” gasped the elf. “Perhaps there is a… a blood lock that only someone like you could open! Then the treasure must be intact! Oh, but you are in terrible danger! What if someone,” Lildereth glanced around, “nefarious saw this and had designs on your family’s secret?”

“That’s why I patrol here whenever I can. I’ve chased away more than a few sly-looking individuals.” The guard gave them a stern look. “What do you know about my family’s map?”

Darnand picked up Lildereth’s cue. “We heard the rumor and hired a guide. She promised to reveal to us secrets of the Imperial City. In fact, her tour is entitled ‘Secrets of the Imperial City.’” He made a show of looking around. “We are to meet her here by the Talos Plaza gate at midday. She will arrive any moment.”

Lildereth tilted her head toward Darnand. “I don’t think she’s coming, dear. She had a shifty look.”

“You say that about all Dunmeri. She will arrive as she promised.” He frowned up at the sun as if Magnus was to blame for the imaginary guide’s tardiness.

“We shouldn’t have paid her in advance,” Lildereth chided.

“Paid her in advance!” exclaimed the guard. “I am sorry to say, you have been duped. This happens to tourists all of the time, though a surprising number find this spot anyway. You won’t see your gold nor your guide again.”

Darnand harrumphed and kept up his pretense of looking. “How do you know that you are of Prince Camarril’s bloodline?”

She made a grandiose gesture at the map. “I discovered the connection when the Prince’s tomb came alive at my approach. I have named it the Midday Miracle and determined that one of our blood should always keep watch over our legacy.”

“Correlation does not imply causation.”

“Come along, dearest,” Lildereth coaxed him. “Our tour is canceled. If we leave now we can visit the herbalist and still have time to soak your piles before dinner.” She rubbed his abdomen in a patronizing manner.

“You are wise, my darling,” Darnand gritted, squeezing her fingers harder than necessary. “While I bathe you shall have time to lance a few of your boils. And perhaps even make inroads against the fungal growth beneath your toenails.” He made a head-bow at the guard. “Good day, and thank you.”

“Protect and serve. It’s what we do.”

They strolled away under the guard’s vigilant gaze.

~~~

As far as Darnand could tell, no one followed them through the Talos Plaza District to The Foaming Flask. They found the tavern lightly populated, the staff still clearing up from the lunch rush. Baurus occupied a round table in the darkest corner, a crumb-speckled plate in front of him.

“You are certain this is safe?” Darnand asked Baurus, holding a chair for Lildereth. “No one will overhear us?”

“We’re never safe.”

Lildereth dropped her satchel on the chair. “I’ll get us some food.”

“Will we not have a waitress?” Darnand asked.

“Bar service only here.”

While Lildereth was occupied, Darnand filled Baurus in on his conversation with Jerric. He unrolled his map and pointed to the shrine’s approximate location without a verbal explanation.

Lildereth returned with a plate in one hand and two tankards in the other. She placed the plate between them.

Baurus spoke. “That was a good piece of work, getting the last book and cracking the code. Breton, you handled yourself well back there in the sewers. Our next move is to infiltrate the cult. That means we’ll go to the shrine, as directed.” He glanced between the two of them. When neither spoke up, Baurus continued. “Obviously I’m known to them. There’s no disguise we can count on to get me in. Breton, you’re known to them now, too, especially since you gave them your name. We killed them all, but that means at least some of them who know you are in contact with their leadership in whatever hell pit they’re calling their Garden of Dawn.”

“He mentions that he has remade his daughter,” said Lildereth. “He will certainly remake his son.”

“In the third volume he names the ‘hell pit’ where they await the Dawn,” said Darnand. “He calls it Paradise. One of us must pose as the Novitiate. You will recall in the first volume, the Master instructs one to come slowly, with humility, and bearing the four keys. Mantled in starlight, though I suppose that may refer to the initiation ritual.”

Lildereth gave him raised brows.

“That means unclothed. I have not adequately studied the fourth volume, but my reading suggests a blood ritual. Fairly common to mimic the mortal birth in such a way.”

The elf’s expression did not invite further details.

Baurus continued. “We have to assume that there are other copies of Volume Four out there, and other idiots in the process of decoding the message and making their way to the shrine.”

“There was a guard patrolling near the Tomb of Prince Camarril,” Darnand said. “She indicated that there had been others looking for ‘The Midday Miracle,’ as she termed it. It is possible that her attention frightened them away.”

“Her name and rank?”

“I did not enquire. She is a guard.”

“She will have seen every aspiring cultist,” Baurus said. A grim smile drifted over his face.

“I guess I’ll see them when I get inside the shrine,” said Lildereth. The elf sat higher so she could lean toward the Redguard. “That’s what you were coming to, right? All that time your lot had someone trying to capture me in the mountains, and now you want to send me right into the middle of it. I guess you trust me now.”

Baurus spent no time celebrating. “I’m sending you both to find it. Travel to County Cheydinhal as you would have if Jerric was with you. I’m counting on your woodscraft not to be seen together at the shrine by whatever they’ve got watching their approach. Breton, I want you nearby for communication and backup. The Nord could pop out of Moonshadow any day. When he does, he’ll contact you. Tell him everything you’ve learned in case you two both die. Bosmer, get in there and scout. Find the ways in and out that aren’t the front door.”

“If they’re doing their initiations there, it has to be some sort of compound,” Lildereth said. “That means they’re feeding people and taking out the trash. I’ll leave my gear with you, Darnand. If I turn up with the books and no weapons they’ll likely use me as some sort of cleaner or cook. I’ll see what I can see and then get out before they initiate me.”

“What do you need?” asked Baurus.

“I just need myself,” said Lildereth. “I’ll pick up some second-hand things that will help with my disguise.”

“What are you offering?” Darnand asked Baurus.

“What gold I have for travel. I won’t use inns. I’ll go straight home and inform them of your actions. I trust no other way to bring this news.”

“Will you bring them to the shrine?” asked Lildereth.

“That’s not up to me.” A cracking noise came from Baurus’s closed fists. “Discover what you can and then get out. Jerric may contact you before you’ve even reached it. Azura’s Shrine isn’t far north of the lake.”

“He indicated that he would have some task to perform upon arrival,” Darnand reminded him.

“Whatever promise the Nord has made, we’ll lose time if you all die fulfilling it,” Baurus said. “Breton, once the elf has scouted I want you to bring the information home. From there you can communicate with Jerric in the field. Be wary. No letters, no messages, no charmed trinkets for talking. Trust no one.”

“Once I tell him where the shrine is, he’s going to go kill them,” Lildereth said. “I won’t try to stop him.” Her hands were motionless on the table, fingers laced tightly together.

“Lildereth…”

“I know. He won’t be alone, Darnand.” She pushed the plate toward him. “It’s pointless to plan any further.”

.

This post has been edited by Grits: Jul 25 2019, 04:26 PM

[Acadian]

What a wonderfully written encounter between the odd couple and the guard. Plenty of info gleaned while Lil & Darn played the married couple to the hilt – including the ‘TMI’ personal hygiene digs they exchanged.

Also, a well done encounter with Baurus as the trio discuss their next steps. I chuckled at Lil’s understanding that whatever they come up with for plans, Jerric is likely to barge into with spells ablazing.


A few tiny nits -
’While the guard began began her explanation,…’ - - an extra began, it seems.
’She rubbed his abdomen in patronizing manner.’ - - in a patronizing manner, perhaps?
“You are wise, my daring,” - - darling, of course.
’Lildereth gave him raise brows.’ - - raised, I think.

[treydog]

Even if the L and D show is harder to write, you do it wonderfully well. In their own way, they are even funnier than Lil and Jerric- which takes some doing. But she has such an excellent- “not going to take any crap off of anyone, just because I'm a Bosmer” attitude. And she has the wit (and the other skills) to back up that attitude. She is a delight- as long as one is not the target of her barbs....

“You are certain this is safe?” Darnand asked Baurus, holding a chair for Lildereth. “No one will overhear us?”

“We’re never safe.”

Besides all of your original characters, you do an amazing job of showing how driven Baurus is by the failure of the Blades to protect the Emperor.

“What do you need?” asked Baurus.

“I just need myself,” said Lildereth. “I’ll pick up some second-hand things that will help with my disguise.”

Another perfect Lildereth moment.

[SubRosa]

It sounds like the guardswoman might be thinking of going to look for Forrest Fenn's treasure. I wonder if it really does respond to the Camarril blood, or if someone merely convinced herself that it does. I kind of suspect the latter. Ah, I see Darnand does as well. He obviously had the same college profs I did, as that is where I learned that correlation does not imply causation. (My Psych Prof regaled us with the tale of how as a young lad he once wrote a paper where he showed the correlation between traffic in Chicago and street deaths in India).

Oh, Darnit and Lil play off one each other wonderfully with the 'tour guide'

Ewww, better get those piles and boils and fungus taken care of!

“We’re never safe.”
I just love Baurus' optimism!

Some solid planning all around by Baurus. And thought observations by Lildreth, in that there will probably be a servants entrance, and a trash dump. Those are the kind of things game designers never think of.

Since Jerric et al. will be arriving at Azura's Shrine, I can guess what task they will be charged with upon arrival. I do like how everything is finally coming back together at Lake Arrius.




Nit? More of a consideration?
I’ve chased away more than a few sketchy-looking gawkers.

You might want to reconsider using 'sketchy'. It is modern slang, and feels odd given the setting. Sort of like Aragorn seeing Gandalf and saying "What up Holmes?"