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

[ghastley]

How many levels of detour are we on now? Every time they get on a path to somewhere, something comes up to deflect them. I'm going to need reminders of where they're ultimately trying to go.

At least Jerric can tell one guar from another. Otherwise they'd be back-tracking to swap guars, on top of the detours.

[SubRosa]

A nice walk in the twilight otherworld turns nasty when Cliff Racers appear! I really wish someone would do something about those things. I would say that would be worth making them a saint...

Renlys might not be a saint, but at least some fire magic did the trick with those Cliff Racers.

The unexpected side quest to recover the lost guar brings us to a welcome interlude. It is nice to meet some of the people who live here in Moonshadow, and see how they live in this otherworld. It is nice to meet someone in a Daedric Realm that is not trying to kill you. That is assuming they really are friendly, and are not lulling Jerric and company into a false sense of security before attempting to murder them all.

[Acadian]

The opening of this episode felt quite epic as the travelers began their trek across the grassy plains bathed in perpetual twilight.

Cloudskimmers! Good thing someone knows a fire spell and someone else knows how to put out grass fires.

Uh-oh, the pack guars took off. I figure Jerric is probably right that the cliffracers followed the guar to grab whatever the guar flushed out of the grass.

What an exotic and charming place you created here with this banyon tree vine village! SubRosa is right – nice to meet a friendly village instead of strangers who want to kill them.

As far as diversions from their path, I'm all about the journey over the destination. Divert away!

I do wonder how the other (Neelo chasing) half of the little band is fairing. They have the elegant grace of that winged twilight and her lightning while this Freckles group has the power and majesty of big Nord who knows how to hit hard and break stuff.

[Kane]

..I didn’t write at all for several years...

I feel that. Not for the same reason (hope you're doing better!) but after Call of the Wind in 2018 I couldn't write anything for almost 7 years. Everything I tried fizzled out, and it was on my fourth attempt at Seeking Solace that it all finally clicked again!

Chapter six, pt3. Annette was my grandmother's name. It was nice to see it again, and in such a nice tale of celebration.

[Grits]

Previously: After a cloudskimmer-fueled scuttler stampede startled their guar, Jerric, Kjestrid, Shamir-do, and Nereli tracked Freckles to the house-banyan village Droathra. They have been invited up for a sleepover.

Rider: I’m sure Freckles would title this part “Freckles Has Adventure All By Herself.” We’ll see this update why she kept going. It has been fun to imagine how Moonshadow might be. Thank you, Rider!

ghastley: No kidding, they started off in Bruma on a walk toward Cloud Ruler Temple. Then there was a Gate, then they came back through another Gate. This shortcut started in Blacklight, but they had to walk to get there and then walk again to get to the portal. Gjaever was onto something when he decided to just traipse across Skyrim instead. He may beat them back to Bruma.

SubRosa: I think it would be hard to relax in any daedric realm, even one of the “good” ones. Unless you’d already given them your soul. Saint Renlys! Our young acolyte definitely wanted to impress with his fire show. Thank you, SubRosa!

Acadian: Thank you, Acadian! It has been fun to dream up some Moonshadow landscapes. That village of friendly Argonians in ESO’s Coldharbour made me think about hospitality in Moonshadow. I’m glad you’re enjoying the journey. More Moonshadow adventures ahead!

Kane: Annette, the lovely teenager from Weye! I almost forgot that Jerric has the Jewel of the Rumare. I’m glad that your writing has clicked for you. I’m looking forward to catching up with your Children of Kyne series. Thank you, Kane!

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Chapter 19: Moonshadow, Part Three

Declining the guar-milking opportunity, Jerric followed Kjestrid up the vines. After about twenty feet they were able to slip inside the cylindrical lattice of the banyan tower. Within, a ramp spiraled upward. Platforms had been constructed across the open middle to create large, round dwellings. The rooms held every type of object one would find in a Cyrodilic cottage. As they climbed past, a few people greeted them with nods or waves. The ramp passed in and out of the lattice tower walls at intervals, depending on the type of dwelling that had been constructed. There were few partitions and even fewer hanging tapestries to screen the spaces. Though the barracks method of simply not looking would have supplied privacy, Jerric couldn't resist.

By the time they reached a height that made Jerric debate sending a stream through the vines rather than jogging back down to the privy, Aman-enle stepped onto one of the platforms, beckoning for them to follow.

"Here I dwell with my mate," they said, smiling at a slim, Bosmer-height elf with markings like Aman-enle's on their face. "Dearest, I bring outsiders! Please meet Nereli, Shamir-do, Kjestrid, and Jerric." Aman-enle turned back to them. "My beloved, Joman-enle."

"Pleased to meet you," said Jerric. He quit trying to figure out gender, race, and Moonshadow naming conventions and focused on the important. Joman-enle had laid a meal out on a low table.

"Welcome!" said Joman-enle. Their voice was low-pitched and pleasant. "Come, take your ease with us! Aman..?"

"Yes, yes, I will invite them. The glowstones, my love." Aman-enle turned at the doorway and beamed a smile at the group. "I shall return in a moment."

By the time they had shed and stowed their armor, more folk had arrived bearing food and drink. Joman-enle supplied them with pottery plates and tall drinking vessels made of shell or horn. The babble of voices made it difficult to tell who was talking to whom. Or perhaps that was the effect of whatever dried thing Joman-enle had smoldering in a small brazier.

Jerric looked into his cup. What was this drink? He took another sip. It tasted like beef broth and ale.

Kjestrid was talking to a Bosmer woman on Jerric's left. "We make it from the silvergrass seeds," the Bosmer was saying. She pointed to something else on Kjestrid's plate. "And that's a type of shelf mushroom, and this here is made from elder-cep stems. These are wild onions we gather out on the plain. And of course this is just sliced steak."

Jerric forked up another bite of the chewy blue stuff. He checked under the flatbread and moved the scoop of mushy green goop. No steak. But the blue stuff was excellent.

When he looked up from his second plate of food, he saw that Nereli was deeply engaged in a conversation with some not-quite-Dunmer. Shamir-do was talking to a human with an Altmer's golden complexion. Those who seemed to have finished their meals were passing a pipe around.

"Fill your cup?" It was the Bosmer who had been talking to Kjestrid.

Jerric held it out. "Thanks. I'm Jerric."

"I know. My name is Raywen." She had blue eyes, dark hair, and dimples.

"Pleased to meet you."

Raywen sat on the floor across from him and placed her pitcher on the low table. She tilted her head in an expectant manner.

"Uh, everyone's asking for news from, uh, home," said Jerric. "Anything you want to know?"

"I don't live there anymore, and we have our own concerns. It's nice just to speak some Tamrielic." She slid a bare foot along Jerric's calf. "And get to know some new people."

A burst of laughter came from Shamir-do's direction. The big cat rose without bracing himself for balance. Two of his companions stood up with him.

"Go ahead," Kjestrid told Shamir-do, grinning. "I'll watch him tonight."

"Watch me do what?" Jerric said to Kjestrid. "I won't be milking any guars, if that's what you're hoping."

"Well you don't need my permission if you do," said Kjestrid. "But let's at least stay in the same tower."

Some time after Shamir-do's departure, folk began saying their farewells.

Nereli came over and sat down on the floor, leaning against Kjestrid. "I told them how our homeland fares," she said. "They like me now."

"Did you meet any of your ancestors?" asked Jerric. He was a little serious.

"Not that I know of, but some of them did complain to me about their descendants. I think I'm starting to figure things out here."

Raywen drew Jerric's attention back to her. "Is there anything you'd like to ask me?"

He looked at her for a long moment. There were a lot of things he'd like to ask, starting with if she would please take off her dress. But if he was ever going to sleep with a Bosmer, it wasn't going to be tonight.

"Where are all the kids?" he said. "If it's not rude to ask, you're still a mortal, right? And so are some of these others. This is our second village, and we've not seen any youngsters."

"It is rude, but you're an outsider so I'm not bothered." She pushed herself to her feet. "Actually I'm not in the mood to explain it. But if you'd like to not talk any more, come find me." She waved to Joman-enle, picked up her cup and pitcher, and strolled out the doorway.

Their plates were gone along with the dining clutter. Aman-enle moved about, tidying up. "The necessary is on the ground level," they said. "You'll find a wash house near the well. If you don't mind, bring up a bucket of water on your way back. There's a stack by the door."

"Will do," said Jerric.

"You could be humping Raywen right now," Nereli told him. "She sure wanted to get her legs around you."

"Not me in particular, just somebody she hasn't taken for a ride before."

Kjestrid tilted her head, listening. "She won't be disappointed. Sounds like she found Shamir-do. Can you two hold your piss for a while? I don't want us to go down to the ground without him. We've had enough trouble on this shortcut. Let's not split up any more than we already are."

"We have another set of buckets," Aman-enle volunteered. "The night buckets. Just don't get them confused with the water ones."

"Ha!" said Jerric. "See, there is a night." Rather than unpack his bedroll, Jerric folded up his cloak for a pillow. He placed weapons at hand in his usual manner, though he did not feel any kind of threat from these bunny-hunting mushroom farmers. A breeze trickled in through the openings in the walls, carrying that sweet scent that was almost like honeysuckle.

"What do you do when it rains?" he called to Aman-enle. Their hosts had retired behind a tapestry.

"Usually nothing. Never before have the rains bothered us, but lately we must hang our rugs to dry."

Joman-enle spoke. "Never before have we seen shadowcats on the plain, either, but we have now. And the winged twilights report figment sightings. The unrest from Mundus affects even Our Lady's realm."

"Does anyone else feel like their brain is baked?" said Nereli. Her head was near Jerric's shoulder.

"Yeah," said Kjestrid. "Between the smoke and the drink, I'll have plenty of dreams tonight."

"If we're lucky, I won't dream," said Jerric. He turned to Nereli. "Are you going to charge them for their cat ride?"

Nereli snorted. "I don't even know what they use for currency."

"What about you, Nereli?" said Jerric. "Still time to find some local and knock the dust off your kitten."

"Not interested."

"You may meet some of these folk when you come back after, you know. Dead."

"I know, I mean I just don't feel that way about people. I'll do it if I have to. To get along. But it's just…" she shrugged. "Messy. Awkward. I don't see the point."

"I think you've been doing it wrong," Jerric said.

Kjestrid kicked the side of his leg. "It is messy. And you shouldn't have to if you don't want to."

"You don't want to have little elflets?" asked Jerric.

"No," said Nereli. She held up a hand. "And before you start, I don't want your advice and I don't need you to fix me. I'm fine."

"I will never try to convince someone to have children," Jerric said. "They change everything. Your heart leaves your body and walks around outside for the rest of your life. You should want it more than anything, or forget about it and do something else."

"You have children?" Kjestrid asked.

"No. I thought I did once, but it wasn't mine after all. I've seen all that up close, though. Maybe I'll get lucky someday."

Kjestrid had been watching him with a neutral expression. "You mean with your little Breton boss?"

"He's not my boss. And it's not like you've been told." Jerric rubbed the bridge of his nose. "And he's the right size for a Breton. I'm the one who gets to call him little."

Kjestrid said, "For a man with your principles, you do a lot of lying."

"I know, and it doesn't sit well with me. But there are truths that are not mine to tell. And the lie you're thinking of was not my idea, I can assure you."

Kjestrid looked skeptical.

"You don't believe me? You know Carla who works at the brothel next door?"

"Sure," said Kjestrid, then threw her head back laughing. "Of course I don't know Carla who works next door. And I'll wager her name is any other thing than Carla."

"Pretty Breton with dark hair, and she's," Jerric held his hands out to indicate pregnancy, "about out to here when we left."

"Are you jesting?" said Nereli.

"No! How can you not know the people who work in the same block? You must walk past each other a dozen times every week."

"Do you know the people who work on your block?" said Kjestrid.

He could see right away that she regretted asking. "Yeah, I did. But when you misbehave like I do, you learn to gather grace from the neighbors long before you need it."

"That I can believe," said Nereli. She leaned in for gossip. "So, who do you want to get lucky with that's not Raywen?"

"Dozara," Jerric said, grinning. "Do you think I have a chance with her?"

"I wonder how they fly," said Kjestrid. She gave him a speculative look. "I wonder how much they could carry."

"I wonder if they have man twilights," said Jerric, wiggling his brows at her.

Nereli said, "Well she was nice to you, so I'll wager they don't. You know, there are tales of winged twilights who fall in love with mortals and carry them away."

"There are tales about everything that falls in love with mortals and carries them away," said Jerric. "I used to think a sea siren would get me."

"Wishful thinking," said Kjestrid. She was looking at him strangely.

Jerric checked behind him, but no one else was there. "What's on your mind, Kjestrid?"

"Have you ever met a Woad-singer?" she asked.

"No. I thought that was a legend."

"It's not," she said.

They spent a moment looking at each other.

"I'm not great at guessing, but I think I got this one right," said Jerric. "Are you a Woad-singer?"

"Yeah," said Kjestrid. "And it's been bothering me since Bruma. Now I know what to do about it." She gestured around her head. "I think it's whatever was in that pipe."

"Kjestrid, I smoked some too. You're going to have to explain what the hells you mean."

"Do you want me to sing your Woad for you? It will always be there if I do. You won't have to call it any more." She gave herself a little shake. "We'll have to start another time. Tonight I can't feel my hands."

"What's the catch?"

"I have to give you a tattoo, and I'll have to think about you more than I'd like. But I've already done the thinking. Also it takes some time, and it's tiring. And you don't get to pick it."

"That sounds like the stories," Jerric said.

"You might not like it," said Kjestrid. "Some people don't."

"I'll take that chance."

"Good," she said, leaning back. "I already got what I need from Aman-enle."

Shamir-do spoke from the doorway. "Get up, lazy ones. Shamir heard we are to stay together. And this one needs to piss."

[haute ecole rider]

Nereli said, "Well she was nice to you, so I'll wager they don't. You know, there are tales of winged twilights who fall in love with mortals and carry them away."

Shades of Stibbons!

I rather enjoyed this 'evening' among the shroom folk of Moonshadow. Their home reminds me so much of the graht-oaks of Valenwood that I feel like Lili would be at home here. Also magic shrooms! All this talk about shrooms and blue meat is making my mouth water, and I just had breakfast!

And Raywen sort of kind of reminds me of Lili - certainly has a very similar perspective on a certain type of interaction!

I'm still waiting on Freckles, but I trust the little one will make her way back to our intrepid four. Eventually. After she has been There and Back, like the hobbit that started it all. (You can tell I just re-watched Peter Jackson's Tolkien movies [I]again[/I)

[Acadian]

What a mysterious and mystical place and people you have created here! I love the banyon tree house (of course) and its inhabitants are fascinating. Oh, and such tantalizing exotic food and drink!

Buffy’s heard, “I’d rather sleep with my horse than a Bosmer,” but I don’t think she’s heard, “I’d rather sleep with a winged twilight than a Bosmer” before.

Whatever a woad is, looks like Jerric’s going to get his sung, along with a tat not of his choosing. Maybe a pink butterfly on his cheek?

[SubRosa]

Dinner in the tree house is quite the exotic and alien affair that one would expect in a Daedric Realm. At least the kind that does not immediately try to kill you, as we are most familiar with.

It looks like Raywen is looking forward to brush up on an old tongue, and getting to know a new person. Well, looks like Jerric won't be breaking his Bosmer dry spell tonight however.

Definitely don't mix up the night bucket for the water bucket! No one wants to find out they have been drinking Nord lemonade...

Well, the mind-alerting substances have certainly opened up the floodgates of conversation. From kids, to being Ace, to woad singers (whatever that is, but I think we might find out). It sounds intriguing. In the Crowverse fiction I decided that tattooing can be used as a form of rune magic. It allows a rune mage to place a permanent rune on someone in the form of a tattoo, such as to make them invulnerable, or breathe water, or see in the dark, etc... Or place a reusable spell, like to summon an elemental from the tattoo (with the elemental being depicted within the tat of course). I envisioned a Maori superhero who was a rune mage, whose tats were all magical runes like that from which his powers stemmed.

[Kane]

I'm up to chapter 11 but a part of me doesn't want to find out how things go between Jerric and Abiene. You've got me too invested in them being together!

[Renee]

"Jerric wondered if they would reach the city before dark, then shook the notion away. There was no dark."

Was confused about this, but now I get it! I want to drink some star dew, too. Maybe I'd water it down a bit to dull the extreme sweetness! - - Mmm, wait. Moon sugar drink? Mm, maybe not.

Jerric has a pack guar. Joan does too, eventually.

I like how Dozara is visible in the air as they walk, "but not always". This suggests she gets high enough above them, perhaps.

Parasitic vines taking over mushroom trees, yikes. Ah no, Freckles ran away. Not very well disciplined, however maybe the guar remembers there's that lovely patch of vegetation to munch upon, right? Nope. Dang, is Freckles just gone???

No she's not, that's a relief. Up to C19, part 3, I am.


This post has been edited by Renee: May 12 2025, 04:56 PM

[Grits]

Previously: Moonshadow’s Silver Plain. Jerric, Kjestrid, Shamir-do, and Nereli found Freckles at the banyan-vine village Droathra. They dined with the locals and spent the rest period up in a vine-house. Kjestrid decided to give Jerric a magical tattoo.

Rider: Have no fear for young Freckles – she’s the one who found the vine village with their guar herd. Mama Neelo is still out there somewhere, but so are Ma’sani, Dozara, and Renlys. Thank you, Rider!

Acadian: Jerric could win a lot of bets with a pink butterfly tattoo on his cheek! He may want one regardless of what Kjestrid marks him with. Thank you, Acadian!

SubRosa: Nord lemonade! Kjestrid’s Woad-song tattooing sounds similar to the Crowverse’s rune tattoos. She will use her own magic along with Jerric’s Nordic Woad. Much better than the game’s once-per-day-forget-you-have-them abilities, even if he (maybe) doesn’t like how it looks. Thank you, Rosa!

Kane: Thank you, Kane! That means a lot!

Renee: Yep, Freckles is fine and hanging out with the village’s guar herd. I suspect that she ran that way because she smelled them. It’s just now occurred to me that she might have been there before, since she is local pack guar for hire. I’m thinking about making a Star Dew cocktail out of prosecco and white grape juice. It would be very sweet, but I’ll leave out the moon sugar. You’re caught up! Thank you, Renee!

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Chapter 19: Moonshadow, Part Four

Morning brought sights that were indistinguishable from the night before. Jerric grabbed an empty water bucket and a full night bucket and made his way down to the facilities. The ladder part would have been tricky but for a pulley system he hadn't noticed before.

Before he climbed back up, he went to check on Freckles at the guar paddock.

"Look who showed up!" one of the guar herders called. "I take it she's yours? Found her outside the fence. Here she is, safe and sound."

It was Neelo, looking unrepentant and drowsy with her head propped on Freckles's back.

"Guars," said Jerric. "How can a walking mouth be so endearing?"

A few trips up and down the vines saw their gear packed and ready. The guar handlers had breakfast skewers on their fire, while Aman-enle and Joman-enle gave them rice-flour pastries filled with chopped nuts and flowers. Both hosts served a cloudy, sour drink with the food. Two breakfasts was a decent start. Jerric felt slightly queasy but very awake.

They had been shown how to keep the banyan village over one shoulder as they looked for the road to Valparai. The trail through the grass was easy enough even for human eyes to follow.

"We're not the first to cut across to the Valparai road," Jerric said. Insects and frogs still sang in the tall grass. It sounded like it had the day before, and all night, or what passed for night. Jerric could not adjust to calling it the rest period.

Nereli walked beside him, leading Freckles. "They said the guar trains follow their road to Strawberry Fields first, but I suppose there are many who go straight to Valparai."

Despite the peaceful walk, Jerric couldn't quiet his mind. What were Lildereth and Darnand doing? Was Abiene safe in Chorrol? Where had new gates opened, and who had gone in to close them? How did Savlian fare in his unofficial rule of Kvatch? What about Ulfe, Flash, and Kip? "This shortcut is taking too long," he said. "Those I care about, back in Cyrodiil. I wonder how they fare."

Kjestrid spoke over her shoulder. "So do we. And I wonder what would have happened if I had just knocked you over the head, dragged you through the snow, and delivered you like a side of beef to those who were expecting you. But I didn't, and here we all are."

They walked for a few moments in silence. "Well I don't blame you for it, Kjestrid," Jerric finally said.

Shamir-do snorted behind them. Kjestrid gave her belly laugh.

Jerric chuckled, glancing over at Nereli.

"No one wonders how I fare," she said. "And I don't wonder about anyone, now that Neelo showed up with my packs." Her tone was matter-of-fact.

"You'll find many who want your help in Cyrodiil," Jerric told her. "If you can stand their company."

"I'm getting used to standing yours."

"You warm my heart, Nereli."

The elf gave an exaggerated shiver. "I'd prefer to warm my bones. Is it just me, or is there a chill this morning?"

"You're asking two Nords and a furball," said Jerric.

It was getting harder to see the path through the waving grass. A look to the rear showed darkening skies, and no line on the horizon. The silver plain simply melted into gray sky. Stars were still visible directly above them.

Shamir-do had wandered off to the side, hunting for springhares with Kjestrid's sling.

"Hey dagger-eyes," Jerric called to him. "Are we on track?"

A gust of wind obscured the Khajiit's reply. He jogged back to them, wrapping the sling around a wrist. Two springhares bounced against his thigh from where they hung at his belt. He took a moment tucking them into a pack.

"This one can see the trail. He would have corrected the Nords if they had strayed." He looked back toward where Droathra must be. "However Khajiit does not like the look of that sky."

"Speed up," said Kjestrid. "No more fooling around with rabbits. Shamir-do, you lead. Nereli, I'll take Freckles."

The big Khajiit set a pace that had the guars loping easily along, wide feet taking their weight with a thump and bounce at each step. It felt good to stretch his legs again, especially with only a day pack to burden him.

As the gray twilight above darkened to a fully overcast sky, the grasslands gave way to sandy soil and rocks interspersed with scrubby pink bushes. If there was a trail here, Jerric couldn't see it.

Nereli was running with a hitch in her stride, but Jerric was not inclined to coddle her. If she needed a rest, she would call for one.

At almost the same moment that Jerric decided it smelled like rain, large cold drops began to fall. The wind picked up, lashing rain into his eyes. Shamir-do slowed and then stopped. He began to pace, looking at the ground.

Kjestrid yelled something The Khajiit yelled back.

"What?" shouted Kjestrid.

"This one said he cannot hear you!"

They formed a huddle, including the guars.

"This one has lost the trail," Shamir-do confessed. "There are too many rocks."

"Can you see the banyans?" Kjestrid asked him. "Are we headed in the right direction?"

Shamir-do shook his head, rain dripping off his whiskers. "Shamir cannot tell."

"We need to find shelter!" said Nereli.

Jerric knew nothing about desert weather, but he knew enough to listen to an Ashlander. "Yeah," he said.

"That way!" Shamir-do pointed. "We will walk."

They trudged through the rocks and brush after Shamir-do, splashing through growing rivulets. As they moved toward lower ground, Jerric saw that what had appeared to be more bushes were actually spiky trees, similar to the magenta ones they had seen in Morrowind.

"We must have reached the Smoketree Desert," Kjestrid called. "They told me about it last night."

"If this is the desert, I'd hate to see their stormlands," said Jerric.

Shamir-do walked bent over, picking out a path through the rocks. "Watch out for springhare burrows!"

Nereli did not comment. Jerric looked over to find her chin down and eyes nearly closed against the wind.

Neelo plodded forward, completely unbothered. She lifted her great head to the sky. Rain poured into her cavernous mouth. Then she clapped her jaws shut, sending ropes of spitty water out between her teeth. Her nostrils were clamped shut, and her eyes protected by a nictitating membrane.

"Guar weather," muttered Jerric. It began to hail.

Shamir-do halted them with a shout. He stood upright, arms stretched out to the sides in warning.

"A drop!" he called over his shoulder.

"We can take shelter under the edge!" said Kjestrid. "We have to get out of this hail!"

The stream bed was Nord-deep and ten guar strides wide. Water flowed down the middle, with rocks poking through the surface.

"Bad idea," said Nereli. "There could be a flash flood."

Jerric regretted leaving his Blades helm in Bruma. He sheltered his face with an arm, keeping a firm grip on Neelo's lead with the other hand. "Shamir-do! Where are we going?"

The big cat shrugged.

"Well, pick a direction! What does your gut say?"

"We cross."

Jerric had no time to wonder how the guars would handle the bank. Nereli grabbed Neelo's halter for support and her lip to get her attention. They clambered down into the stream bed.

The water was half-way to his knees and rising fast. Jerric held on to Neelo's lead and balanced himself against her shoulder. Hail bounced off of her and into his face. A new sound made him look upstream.

"Nereli!" he howled.

The elf leaped at Jerric's outstretched arm. When he pulled her in she gripped him with her knees.

The water hit in a wall, thigh high and muddy. Sticks and unidentifiable things swirled in the roiling current. Rocks rolled over his feet and banged his shins.

Nereli scrambled over his back and onto Neelo, clinging to the packs. "Go!" she yelled.

Kjestrid and Shamir-do were downstream, holding on to Freckles. When Jerric lifted a foot, the water shoved him hard against Neelo. One step at a time they made it past the half-way point.

Nereli made a panicked shout.

Something big was floating down the stream. Jerric didn't look again, he just smacked Neelo's flank and lunged for the far bank. The thing clipped his leg as Neelo hauled him up. He found himself at the top face-down in the mud, having been dragged over the edge on his belly.

Kjestrid stood over him, yelling. Bright light flashed across the sky, followed by a bone-shaking rumble.

Thunder? What was next? A Gate to the Deadlands?

Nereli was at his side now, pulling on an arm.

"Need a minute," Jerric hollered. Pain claimed his full attention. His knee buckled when he tried to stand. "Got to sort this damned leg out!"

The boot wasn't damaged and there were no bones poking out. That must just be water soaking his sock. He took his time healing it, mindful of the walk ahead. A poorly healed joint could be as bad as the original injury.

Shamir-do appeared, gesturing wildly. He had found a place to shelter.

It wasn't a cave, but some boulders overhung enough to keep most of the rain and hail off. They coaxed Freckles and Neelo to stand with their heads under the ledge.

Nereli's hair stuck to her face like ribbons going straight across. She peeled them off with a spitting noise. "I'll never say guar-hugger as an insult again."

"I'm thirsty," said Jerric. "Do you think we'll find any water?"

Shamir-do raised an arm and bumped it against Jerric's.

"In all seriousness," said Kjestrid, "Now I really need to pee."

Despite the hail, it never got cold enough to be more than mildly uncomfortable. The storm passed as suddenly as it had begun. As they stood to shake out their cloaks, stars appeared in the pinkening sky.

"We need to dry off and there's no sun," Kjestrid said. "Everything here is too wet to burn."

Jerric was already unloading Neelo's packs. "Rain won't hurt a guar's hide, but I want to check the harnesses. Might be grit or some such pushed under there. Ha! We didn't lose a thing! This Nord knows how to secure a load."

"Khajiit will scout."

By the time they were ready to move on, Shamir-do had returned.

"A village," he said. "This one did not approach."

"Let's assume they won't try to kill us," said Nereli.

"You're sounding downright cheerful," Jerric told her. "I guess it's because you finally got your legs around me."

"If they do kill us," she said, "at least my soul won't have to go far."

Jerric ruffled her wet hair. She actually smiled back at him.

"How long?" Kjestrid asked.

"Thirty minutes. There is a bridge over every gorge, and a road that way. Had we not crossed, we would have missed it."

"Lucky," said Jerric.

"We're in a daedric realm," Kjestrid reminded him. "There's no such thing as luck."

They walked to the road and then on across the bridges, a light breeze barely stirring their soaked hair. The desert plants here grew almost in thickets, as if cultivated. Low walls of stacked stone appeared around individual gardens of the size that would support a household.

A larger wall greeted them as they entered the village. It looked merely decorative, with the stones arranged in pleasing patterns. They passed half-dome structures that must be houses. Colorful murals adorned them, and bits of bright glass had been pressed into the adobe walls to make swirling patterns.

A handful of folk were visible, hurrying toward what must be the middle of town. Voices were raised there, but not quite shouting.

Jerric looked between Nereli and Shamir-do. "Let's go meet your new neighbors."

[SubRosa]

Jerric asks the age old question. How can a mouth with feet look so cute and adorable?

Strawberry Fields? I believe some fellas named John, Paul, George, and Ringo had something to say about that place.

A sudden rainstorm? A need to take shelter? Oh boy, so many horror (and comedy) stories start this way. Will they find an undying cannibal? A trapdoor that drops them down to Goblin-Town? A transsexual from Transylvania? A Satanic mechanic? I can't wait to see.

I second the warning about a flash flood. One odd bit of trivia I still remember is that the leading cause of death in the Sahara is drowning. It is because people take shelter from the sun in wadis (dried up riverbeds). But when it does occasionally rain, the water swells the wadis and turns them into regular rivers. It happens very quickly, in the form of flash floods. If you are caught in a wadi when it happens, there is no escape.

And Kjestrid reminds us that when you gotta go, you gotta go...

Well, nothing untoward happened in the shelter. But we do have a new village with unknown dangers (or perhaps musical numbers) to navigate.

[haute ecole rider]

Welp, this caught my eye:

A poorly healed joint could be as bad as the original injury.

A certain Redguard will wholedheartedly agree!

Whoo, flash flood in the desert! My first thought upon encountering that wadi was "DO NOT CROSS!" for the exact same reason SubRosa just quoted, and as our intrepid team just found out. Thank the Daedra for the walking mouths - they were exactly what the others needed to get out of that flash flood!

And now another village, and the age old question - friendly? hostile? neutral?

[Acadian]

’Morning brought sights that were indistinguishable from the night before.’
- - Nice nod to the nature of Azura’s Moonshadow.

I chuckled over an elf asking two Nords and a furball if it was cold.

It has been a long trip and I’m not surprised Jerric finds his mind wandering to how those he cares about are faring.

'The stream bed was Nord-deep and ten guar strides wide.'
- - A perfect description of the stream bed’s size!

Yikes, a storm! Replete with thunder and hail. And flash flooding! Whew, survived that one and even found a somewhat safe place to shelter under a rock overhang.

Another village. Let’s hope this one is as friendly as the banyon clan.

[Renee]

Prosecco, what's prosecco? A ha, white wine + white grape juice = Star Dew cocktail. I'm down for that.

A "walking mouth!" True.

Okay, so he's concerned about the gates, Jerric is. So there are three different directions right now: Jerric in the realm of Moonshadow, Darnand and Lildereth probably in the midst of travel, and Abiene in Chorrol. That's a moment -- "This shortcut is taking too long." Jerric getting anxious.

"Nereli, I'll take Freckles." Yes, good idea. Won't want the walking mouth running off into these tall grasses as the storm commences.

Nictitating, whoa. New word for me. nictitating: Adjective winking, blinking
--- Yeesh, no. Not a good time to cross a body of water! Alright, it's over, phew!

What I liked about this chapter most was the way they all stuck together as one. Didn't get too distracted from each other, even as they mildly disagreed at times. But yeah, let's see if Jerric can get back to Cyrodiil with haste.

This post has been edited by Renee: May 15 2025, 05:04 PM

[ghastley]

Have we just found the road they were looking for? I suppose they aren't sure yet, either.

I like the "hold on while I heal my broken leg. Just a moment" that means that we still are in TES.

Hopefully, if it is the right road, they joined in the right direction.

[Grits]

Previously: Moonshadow. Jerric, Kjestrid, Shamir-do, Nereli, Freckles, and Neelo set off to find the road to Valparai and the open Gate to County Cheydinhal. After losing their way in a storm, Shamir-do found a village.

SubRosa: Interesting fact about deaths in the Sahara, I would not have guessed that. I’m guilty of once sheltering under the edge of a stream bed during a hailstorm, but there was no flash flood. It was a meltwater stream bed and we were there in August. Still, bad idea!

Rider: I thought of Julian often last week when my knees were acting up. Especially when she walked up that one big staircase. The guars in ESO have been inspiring me. They look so sturdy.

Acadian: Thank you for mentioning Jerric’s growing concern. Worrying about people is a fairly new experience for him. He doesn’t know what to do about it, other than walk faster and take extra good care of the guars.

Renee: We’ll see another nictitating membrane in the next chapter. I think they are neat. I was delighted to read about Joan of Arkay’s pack guar when I got to that part! Thank you for mentioning that the group is sticking together. I think their training helps a lot with that. No one wants to be the first to complain.

ghastley: They also wonder if they found the right road and which way to go on it. In Cyrodiil Jerric has an excellent sense of direction, Darnand has a magical map, and Lildereth seems to know every path and game trail. It took a daedric realm to get him lost!

.

Chapter 19: Moonshadow, Part Five

The streets were wide enough to lead the guars side by side toward the commotion. Jerric glanced around as they walked. The adobe huts looked big enough for multiple families, but with their domed roofs seemed unlikely to have upper floors. Bantam guar scratched for bugs in the gardens. Some dwellings had hand carts and wagons pulled up beside them. He saw no obvious defensive structures.

A woman walked down a side street leading what looked like a big crab on spider legs. Another woman jogged past on the way to the argument, a cricket-looking creature scampering at her heels. Jerric watched it hop away, missing his dog.

They reached an open area that had to be the village gathering place. Two figures stood toe-to-toe in the center of the space. One looked like a Dunmer with gray skin and hair dressed in a high braid. The other was a medium sized Khajiit with brown fur and dark stripes. More Dunmer and Khajiit were arrayed behind them. All were dressed in similarly styled working clothes. None seemed to be carrying weapons.

Jerric looked around for a moment before he caught someone's attention. It was a tall man with short, silver hair and light eyes.

"Good day. I'm Jerric."

"Filip," said the man.

"Pleased to meet you. What's going on here?"

Filip lifted his chin at the two who were arguing. "Different day, same story. You folk look the worse for wear."

"We got caught in a storm. Did it rain here?"

Kjestrid gave Jerric a look, but he ignored her. Small talk sometimes led to large talk, and they needed to know some things.

The Dunmer in the middle was speaking in a voice that was meant to carry. "We have been more than patient with you. It has been too long with too little progress--"

"We exhaust ourselves in your cane fields!" the Khajjit interrupted. "Growing moonsugar is not like growing saltrice. You have made a mess of the fields, and we are left to improve them! We have no time to build new houses, and the ones you have given us are beyond repair."

"We have grown crops in those fields since the founding of this village," the Dunmer declared.

"Probably moon rice," said Nereli.

"Nereli!" said Jerric. "You made a joke!"

Filip snorted. "They grew akka zizania. That means moon rice. What brings you folks to New Ascadia?"

"We got turned around in the storm," said Jerric.

"We got lost," Nereli amended.

"This one was not lost," Shamir-do put in. "It is as the Nord says. 'Turned around.'"

"Lost," Kjestrid mouthed at Shamir-do.

"You look like you could use a rest," Filip said. "We have a corner club, but the whole staff is over there."

"We could stand a meal," said Jerric. "After we dry out our gear and tend to the guars."

"We're looking for a Dunmeri lad and a Khajiiti woman," said Nereli. "Have you seen them?"

"Are you jesting?" said Filip. "You just described most of the village."

"They might be with a winged twilight," said Kjestrid.

"Ah," said Filip.

"Her name is Dozara," said Jerric. "Do you know her?"

Filip opened his mouth and then closed it again. "As it happens, I do know Dozara. I haven't seen her in some time, though."

The Khajiit had been speaking, and now the Dunmer raised his voice again. "The fields you work belong to all of us, your people included. You are equals in this realm, despite your complaints to the contrary. It is time you learned the grace to show gratitude, not this childish resentment over what you once were."

Now everyone in the center was talking, some attempting to shout over the others.

Shamir-do's ears had gone flat.

"Well, that ends any chance of a productive discussion," said Filip.

"What's their story?" Jerric asked.

Filip nodded toward the Khajiit. "Most of that lot are new. They were killed in an uprising back in Morrowind. To be fair, they haven't had an easy time here. But it can be difficult to assimilate when you've so many reminders of your old life." He addressed Shamir-do. "There won't be violence. It would displease Our Lady."

Shamir-do acknowledged him with a slight nod, eyes still on the center of town.

The Khajiiti speaker had been pulled into the group by his friends. The Dunmer turned his back as if to walk away.

"Hold," Kjestrid called out, striding into the middle of them. She stopped and turned in a circle until all eyes were on her. "We are outsiders and have no side to take in your quarrel. Here we have two neutral parties." She gave Shamir-do and Nereli a come-here gesture. "This is Nereli, beloved of your Mother of the Rose. She will go with your Khajiiti New Ascadians and learn of their plight. Here is Shamir-do, favored by the Queen of Twilight. He will go with you who dwelt here before and hear your complaints. When you each are satisfied that your representative understands and can speak for you, the two will come together and formulate a plan for your village so that you may go forward in harmony and prosperity to the glory of your Mother of the Twilight Sky."

There was widespread muttering, but Kjestrid continued. "In this way we will fulfill our obligation to you for the hospitality you provide us. We ask only what food you can spare for our rest and to start us back on our journey."

"They should arm-wrestle," Jerric muttered to Filip.

Filip lifted the corner of his mouth in appreciation.

Kjestrid walked back toward Jerric and the guars.

"I don't suppose it's a meal time?" Jerric asked Filip.

"They keep the ovens hot at The Jumping Perch."

"Will I find a guar barn there?"

"There's a stable next door." Filip nodded to Kjestrid and began to walk off.

"Where?" Kjestrid asked, taking Freckles's lead.

Filip turned as he walked and hooked a thumb across the town circle.

As they walked to The Jumping Perch, Jerric's mind turned to Cyrodiil. He had allowed himself to get distracted by the Oblivion Gate, and now he had been away from Martin and his friends for so long he couldn't guess how much time had passed in Tamriel. Lildereth and Darnand would have gone to the Dagon Shrine by now. Darnand was a formidable mage and Lildereth was the best scout he had ever known, but they were taking risks that he should be taking with them. It could cost them their lives or worse. He hadn't been there with his family in their most desperate hour. Now he was not there for the friends he had come to hold in his heart as closely as kin. And this was his own doing.

He would tend to Freckles and Neelo, get some dry socks on and a meal in his belly, then strike out for Valparai. He could leave the pack animals and Ma'sani's parcels here in New Ascadia for her to collect along with the extra gear they had picked up in Morrowind. He had promised Azura that he would go kill her vampires, not that he would lead a pack train across the plains and a desert and then who knew how far still lay ahead.

He looked over at Kjestrid. She was a muddy, soaked mess, but she had still commanded the attention of an entire village. He would have to be careful when he told her the plan. Otherwise he might find himself trotting at her heels over some more hills and mountains.

"There it is," Kjestrid said, a sigh in her voice. "My thighs are chafed to sixteen hells. Or I suppose to fifteen. May the Moon Mother bless this corner club."

Jerric hustled through his chores and made his way clean into The Jumping Perch. Kjestrid sat at a table with an array of platters and bowls around her. Their packs were arranged on another table. Kjestrid's wet things hung on racks next to the fire pit.

Jerric added his linens to the display and pulled a chair up across from Kjestrid. He would lay out his plan after they ate. Hopefully Shamir-do and Nereli would hurry up.

Kjestrid filled a tankard while Jerric scooped food onto a plate. He was gnawing grilled meat off a bone before he took a better look at his meal. Flat bread brushed with oil and dressed with herbs and pepper sat in a stack ready to hand. Wild rice spiked with nuts and small, yellow fruit that looked like cherries made a fragrant pile next to a braised mushroom the size of his palm. Cubes of some pink and orange thing mashed easily under his fork. He poked what looked like a snail still in its shell.

"It's a snail," Kjestrid said. She picked one up, sucked the meat out, and tossed the shell into a bowl without breaking eye contact. Either she was very hungry or she had decided to expand her dining horizons. "There's a paste to put on the bread."

By the time Jerric and Kjestrid had filled the bowl with snail shells, Shamir-do strolled in. He looked perfectly groomed and wore a linen robe that barely made it around him.

"This one knows the way to Valparai," he announced.

Jerric poured his ale while the Khajiit hung his clothes to dry.

"Good," said Kjestrid. "We can finish here and get going. Where's Nereli?"

"She is coming." Shamir-do began filling a plate. "The elders agreed to our plan."

Jerric gave him a go-ahead gesture, mouth full of mushroom and rice.

"This one wants to eat," Shamir-do objected.

Nereli breezed in with a spring in her stride. She was wearing clean clothes and had beads braided into her hair.

"Nereli will tell you our idea," said Shamir-do. He took a big bite of flatbread.

Nereli stood so her back was to the fire pit. "They had the Khajiit separated in some huts on the field side of town. I won't go over the details, but it wasn't a good situation."

"The Dunmer gave them work that they thought would be familiar," Shamir-do put in. "They are snobs, but they did put themselves out to welcome the new villagers."

"Most of the Khajiit knew each other in life," Nereli continued. "They died violently, and it was a shock to be treated in a way they saw as unfair once they reached Moonshadow."

"How did they get here if they were dead?" Jerric asked. "Did they all grow new bodies at the same time?"

Nereli nodded. "New Ascadia is a good place for them. The folk here just did a poor job getting them settled in."

Jerric looked around to see if there were platters on any of the other tables. These yellow cherry things would make a good pie.

"So how did you get them to agree on anything?" Kjestrid asked.

"We made it fair," said Nereli. "Every dwelling will house both Khajiit and Dunmer, and of course the few others who are already considered neutral. They will work together in the fields and also rebuilding the houses. The newcomers don't have all of the skills they need yet, but they will learn. Everyone has one week to organize themselves into houses."

"Then they should have a party," Jerric suggested.

"They will," said Nereli. "And competitions and celebrations for all kinds of things. That was my idea. I asked myself what you would do."

Jerric had to check and make sure it was him that she was talking about.

"After you had boned half of the village, of course," she continued.

"Not this time," said Jerric. "I'm in a drought." He tossed a snail shell at her.

"Are those apple snails?" Nereli gasped. She reached for the bowl.

Jerric put down his fork. His plan to leave everyone behind and make a run for the city seemed less appealing now that they were all seated around the table. Those he loved were strong, skilled, and highly motivated to survive. And they were out of his reach. Still, his chest felt tight at the thought of them.

"Oh!" said Nereli. "I know where Dozara probably is."

"Is it the opposite direction from Valparai?" asked Kjestrid.

"It's sort of in the same direction. There's a canyon, so we have to go close to it anyway. We should see it from a fair distance. Or that is you will, Shamir-do."

"Unless we get another storm," said Kjestrid.

"Can we get there before we'll have to rest?" asked Jerric.

"Yes," said Nereli. "And with Dozara leading us, we won't get lost again."

Jerric and Shamir-do exchanged a glance.

"Back to guar wrangling," said Jerric. "Let's use the rest of this bread to make some sandwiches. In case Dozara's folk have run out of snails."

[ghastley]

Is Jerric eating again?

This isn't a story any more, it's a menu!

Good to see the rest of the party is getting on with business.

[Acadian]

New Ascadia. Dunmer and Khajiit thrust together and trying to get along. What could possibly go wrong? Turns out that Kjestrid had a sound plan that worked better and quicker than probably Jerric had expected.

No matter how many snails he eats, Jerric will still be torn between his task at hand and his friends in Cyrodiil. I’m glad he’s staying with his plan however, as that will probably lead him to Cyodiil with better results. It looks like New Ascadia won’t slow them down much at all and if Nereli is right, their path to Valparai should take them close to the rest of their group.

Well fed, they should be able to continue their trek soon! As long as Jerric doesn’t delay to bone half the village of course.

[SubRosa]

It looks like the Khajiit newcomers are not happy with paradise. It seems even the afterlife runs on the principle that there must an underclass to exploit. Perhaps I am being too pessimistic. But to be honest, as exotic as Moonshadow appears to be, it also seems as mundane as Mundus. People still have to work the fields and tend to their livestock and eat and drink and do all the things they did in life. I don't see the point in wanting this over reincarnation back on Tamriel. At least being reborn there as another person in another place brings a change in scenery and circumstances. Imagine tilling the same field for eternity in Moonshadow?

There talk of being lost reminds me of a quote by Brian Keith in The Mountain Men: "Hmm... been fearsome confused for a month or two, but I ain't never been lost!”

Jerric of course finds this entire side quest through Azura's realm to be frustrating. I don't blame him. He signed on the save the world, not tramp across a Daedric Princess' back yard, and see all of its banal, dirty laundry on display.

I think Steve Martin described the snails best...