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

[Renee]

I have a fear of heights, too, but it’s only bad when there’s nothing around like a railing to grab onto. So I would be crawling up the middle of that staircase, if I had to climb the Dawning Tower.

I've done that! Even in shopping mall escalators with handhold belts to hold onto, I'll sometimes keep my feet rooted in the middle of the steps, irrationally terrified of "falling" as the staircase climbs.

I also had a thought about the Twilight Queen's area, which I believe was described as lacking in decorations. Which makes sense because If their entire world can be mostly explored and viewed while flying, pictures and objets d' art and landscape paintings and such just aren't needed.

Am up to MOONSHADOW PART 7, pretty sure. Seems they are getting closer to Drozara. Eesh see, they're climbing into a cave or something. Already read this part, pretty sure! Darned stroke. -- Sorry.

Okay, they're in an underground conjunction area. What are Prowler's potions? I'm guessing night eye. Isn't Dozara a winged twilight? I agree this cave would be way awkward for her, terrrifying, even.

I wonder why they didn't send their monkey creatures in here."

Who or what are "they"? Sorry.

YIkes, they're getting bitten! -- Must be the figments or whatever. Ah I see, snakes! 🐍 How are they going up and down these underground shafts? Are they rappelling/using ropes?

Yeesh, lots of snakes, with wings, what the heck? Are these figments? UESP haasn't got any pictures or description of "figments". Yea, seems so, and Dozara has already been taken by them Oh gosh, figment queen!!!!

Okay, sounds like they've been bitten by some form of bats. Or "figments" seems the proper term. Jeez this is creepy!

Ah, here's the queen. Creepy [censored]. How are Jerric + friends getting out of this one???

Dang yep, I read & commented twice! - Sorry. I'm so useless these days!

Well good news is for sure my bookmark now goes here

[Grits]

Previously: Jerric found Abiene’s ex-boyfriend Vidkun drowned in the Mages Guild well. He decided to give her the news in person before returning to Cloud Ruler Temple. Jerric contacted Darnand through their summoning spell. The two agreed that Falcar’s murderous shenanigans boded ill for the Mages Guild.

SubRosa: Burz seems to be exactly that kind of asshole. It’s not surprising that the Cheydinhal FG only has two members in the game, and Burz openly speaks badly of them. Deetsan is super happy to be in the Mages Guild according to town gossip, but she sounds like a nut when you first talk to her. I’ve always felt that Cheydinhal was pretty but a nice place to leave. I really liked Vidkun. I was tempted to give him some Cyrodiil CPR. Thank you, SubRosa!

Acadian: It’s funny to go from the empty Fighters Guild next door to the Mages Guild and find it packed with chatting mages. I’m sure they will do better under Deetsan’s leadership. It was fun to give Jerric and Vidkun their brief time together. I think they would have been friends given different circumstances. Thank you, Acadian!

Burnt Sierra: Gosh, you have highlighted everything that I hoped to bring out with the Vidkun/Jerric situation. Even the social commentary. This part has been a milestone in my head since the very beginning of the story. It feels a little strange to have it out on the page at last. Jerric has some things to work through on the way to his conversation with Abiene, and thinking things through is possibly his least favorite activity. Finally I can let Vidkun rest! Thank you, Burnt!

Kane: Yes, Falcar leaving the Mages Guild during the Cheydinhal recommendation quest is part of the Mages Guild questline. His dialog is pretty much straight from the game. After getting recommendations from all of the guild halls except Kvatch, the first quest from Raminus Polus at the Arcane University kicks off the questline plot. If you don’t do the Cheydinhal recommendation quest, Falcar just keeps hanging around the guild hall acting like a jerk. Thank you, Kane!

ghastley: Kothet, the Dremora in Skyrim! He started out dead in Prizna’s story, then spent the time between Oblivion and Skyrim being killed and reborn back into Tamriel! I remember him. I enjoyed his tower and Dremora housecarl mod. Thinking of the Hearthfire mods makes me want to play Skyrim. Thank you, ghastley!

Renee: That’s exactly what I was thinking about the Twilight throne area. The whole point is the view from up there, so they wouldn’t want a bunch of little stuff distracting from it. Prowler’s Potions are for Detect Life plus Nighteye. I remember it has rat meat in it. Don’t trust a potion from Jerric! "I wonder why they didn't send their monkey creatures in here" meant he wondered why the winged twilights (Dozara) didn’t send their scamp servants into the tunnels, since it would have been easier for scamps to climb around than for the twilights to do it. Team Jerric is free climbing and giving each other boosts, since the tunnels are very rough with a lot of hand and foot holds. Figments aren’t in the games, I made them up as creatures from Evergloam who are trying to sneak into Moonshadow. Thank you, Renee!

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Chapter 20: The Well, Part Four

The moons lit his path as Jerric walked back to the Fighters Guild Hall. He stood outside for a time looking over the river and up at the snowy Valus mountains. Vidkun's cold skin and cloudy eyes filled his mind. Drowning was no way for a Nord to die. Would Vidkun get his chance to stand before Shor? There is nothing more you can do for him tonight.

Inside, Grayne sat at the dining table. Nereli sat beside her, petting Clancy. She wore a black and gold medallion on an intricate chain.

"I'm glad to see you," Jerric said to her.

"You don't look glad," said Nereli.

Grayne acknowledged Jerric with a nod. "I'll make my rounds. Clancy, let's go."

Jerric filled a goblet for himself and topped off Nereli's. "Dame Nereli, Knight of the Thorn." They drank the toast. Jerric refilled their goblets.

"What's happened to you?" said Nereli.

"I'm not a vampire, if that's what you're asking." Jerric drained his goblet. "You go first."

She lifted the medallion. "As you guessed, Sir Farwil made it official. And then his father Count Indarys gave me their family staff as a reward for saving his life."

"Well earned."

"Their lodge is pretty much a drinking club."

"Your lodge." Jerric raised his goblet again.

"I suppose. They have plenty of gold to spend on it, but no one's even set up a training area. The basement is a wine cellar." She looked at him for a moment without speaking. "I'm going to try to make this work, I think."

"I believe you can, and I believe you'll know if it turns out not to be worth it. Just don't let that loudmouth get you killed."

Nereli nodded slowly. "Or the rest of us. I talked to Brem for a while today. He says Farwil has a good heart, he's just young and inexperienced. Anyway the knights that are left made me Quartermaster. That's second in command, and our Knight Commander doesn't really do anything but brag. So I think I can make something out of this order. Starting with the kind of new members we recruit. Fewer petty nobles and their lickspittles, and more regular folk who want a chance to step up. The Indarys family is House Hlaalu. I was trained in House Redoran. I didn't mention that, of course."

"I don't know much about the Great Houses."

"It doesn't matter. I just mean that I already know what needs to be done, and Farwil has never had an idea that didn't come from a storybook."

Jerric leaned back to grab another bottle. "I want to hear about all of your plans."

~~~

Despite a late night with Nereli, Jerric got up at dawn to take a position by the Fighters Guild door. He passed the time with a plate of cold mutton and a steaming tankard of kahve. When Burz crashed down the stairs, Jerric was there to meet him.

The Orsimer curled his lip. "Speak, snowman, or stop wasting my time."

"I want an escort job to Chorrol, or anywhere on the way."

"Two contracts in two days? You must want to be Guildmaster. Ha!"

"I just want to get paid." Last night an idea had come to him as if spoken aloud by Vidkun. It would take most of his gold.

"Escort contracts pay when you get them there alive."

"Yeah. My Chorrol wages will fund the trip home."

"I don't need your life story, meat. Get the details from Mercer." He slammed out the door.

The porter let out a long sigh. "Let's look at the book. And I have a packet you can deliver to the Chorrol chapter if you want a little extra gold."

"If it's ready to go, then yes."

Twenty minutes later, Jerric stepped into the Cheydinhal Bridge Inn. The noise level suggested it was at capacity. At the desk an Imperial woman with thick brows and a brutal haircut looked him over.

"I'm Jerric. Of the Fighters Guild."

"Marianna Ancharis, proprietor. We've no beds for Nords, but I'll let you sleep on the floor in the storeroom for a good price."

"I don't need one, I'm here for— What do you mean, no beds for Nords?"

"I can sell two spots in a bed for the space you'll take. Why shouldn't I?"

"Why shouldn't I give you a beating?" Jerric straightened his Fighters Guild tabard. "Ma'am?"

"You are welcome to try."

"Not today, I'm on a contract. I'm here to see Cevin Geles."

"He's probably in there. Help yourself."

"What does he look like?"

"Skinny lad. Brown hair." She flicked a hand as if shooing an insect. "You know, a Breton."

Jerric walked into the lounge. The seats were filled with folk eating breakfast. Children played on the floor, most quietly. There were enough Dunmer in the mix to make him think he was back in Blacklight.

"I'm Jerric," he announced to the room. "From the Fighters Guild."

In the far corner a teenager stood up. He gave a small wave.

Jerric made his way to him, stepping over kids and baggage.

The lad wiped his palms on his robe as Jerric approached. He had light blue eyes and a complexion that spoke of store-bought soap and libraries. "I'm Cevin Geles," he said, extending a hand. "Thank you for meeting me."

Jerric gave the hand a careful shake. "Pleased to meet you. Do you want to talk here, or..?"

"Let's step outside." Cevin hiked a pack onto his back, slung a bag across one shoulder, and picked up two satchels. He looked like a field mouse bringing home an ogre's breakfast.

"Want me to take some of that?" Jerric asked.

"No thank you, I can manage."

They strolled to a spot under willow trees by the chapel bridge. Cevin put down his burdens.

"I'm told you want to get to Chorrol," said Jerric.

"Yes. I live there." Cevin chewed the edge of his lip.

"Look, I'm not some marauder. You're young, you're alone, and I look like something your ma warned you about. But I'm a member of the Fighters Guild and of the Mages Guild, and I mean you no harm. If you need help against something dangerous, you have to find something else that's dangerous. It doesn't have to be me."

Cevin's shoulders lifted when he took a breath. "You're right. I've never been this alone. I traveled with a caravan from Mournhold, but there was an ambush as we crossed the border."

"I'm sorry you had to see that."

"You want to know how I survived. That's what everyone asks me."

"Well, yeah. That did cross my mind."

"I don't want to talk about it," said Cevin.

"Fair enough. I guess you're not going to murder me in my sleep out on the road. You're not a vampire, are you?"

"No. Are you?"

"Ha!" said Jerric. "Do you have a horse?"

"No. But I have gold. Not on my person! I'll have to stop at the bank."

"Why haven't you joined another caravan? It would be easier than riding and cheaper than hiring your own guard."

Cevin looked like he might vomit. He shook his head.

"All right," said Jerric. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yes. I've already paid Mistress Ancharia for tonight, but it would be beyond pointless to attempt a refund from that grasping mediocrist. I am ready."

Jerric picked up his bags.

"Wait," said Cevin. "Actually I need to use the privy first."

The Black Waterside Stable was difficult to reach, as guarded picket lines still stretched out on all sides but one. They picked their way through a jumble of haphazardly parked carriages.

Jerric approached the ostler, mentally rehearsing his lines. "Morning, Tovas. Remember me? I'm here to settle my bill."

The Dunmer stepped into the office, gesturing for Jerric to follow.

Belatedly Jerric realized he had not explained the plan to Cevin. "Wait out here," he told the lad, dropping his packs.

Tovas ran a finger down the ledger. "Uh…"

"Vidkun."

"Right."

"Of Leyawiin."

"Got it." Tovas wrote down a figure then slid the book around, pointing to it. Jerric handed over the coins, and Tovas marked his page. "Go out to the corral. Mivryna will have him saddled and ready for you."

The two stepped back outside. "We also need to rent a horse," Jerric said. "We'll return it at North Country Stable."

"We're not taking assignments in that direction right now."

"Are you jesting?" said Jerric. "You have three picket lines and a paddock full of horses!"

"Most of them are boarding, and I'm not letting any of mine out on rent. We've had too many losses what with daedra about. Even some of those lasses from the Black Horse Courier have died along with their mounts."

"Then I shall purchase one," said Cevin. "Show me what you have available."

Jerric's brows went up. Well, the lad said he had gold in the bank.

"You won't be sorry," said Tovas. "The black horses of Cheydinhal are the fastest, toughest, most reliable horses in Cyrodiil."

Within the hour Cevin's new black mare was saddled and ready next to Vidkun's tall dapple gray. The two mounted up and moved out to the road.

"What's her name?" Jerric asked.

"Sable," said Cevin, wide-eyed. "What is yours called?"

Jerric's mind was a blank. "Smoke, uh, Smokey. Smoke."

They rode for a time in silence. The surge of traffic following the Gate's closure had dissipated. This morning they passed few other riders and fewer on foot.

"I hope you have provisions," said Cevin. "I had to empty my account."

Jerric decided not to jest about cooking the expensive new horse. "We can camp, I can fish, and you don't look like you eat much. Should be fine."

They were for the most part fine through the days and nights down the Blue Road, cutting across to the Red Ring Road, around to the Black Road, and most of the way through the Great Forest. Jerric kept his head down as they passed Weynon Village with its Priory. He did not want another meeting with Brother Venco.

It wasn't until the outskirts of Chorrol that they saw one. Black clouds boiled in a lightning-slashed sky, while a tooth-aching whine pierced their eardrums. A pane of fire stood vertically on a circle of blasted earth. They had found a Gate to Oblivion.

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This post has been edited by Grits: Aug 12 2025, 03:43 PM

[ghastley]

I thought for a moment that you'd re-opened a closed gate, but the earlier one was the other side of the Odill farm.
However, this must be the outside the city that you can see from the gate, so have you changed the timing in Jerric's world so it opens later?

The mention of a caravan being ambushed is suggesting an extra connection will be revealed soon, too. And is Cevin an Imperial or a Breton?

[SubRosa]

Looks like Nereli is going to make the most of the opportunity before her. Good! She can turn the Knights of the Thorn into a real force, and might even help Farwil grow up.

People really don't like Nords around here. I do like (as in appreciate, not think it is wonderful) that you are displaying the Nords as suffering the brunt of prejudice that is usually assigned to other groups. It is a nice change, and as always it helps illustrate what living under that prejudice feels like.

So Jerric is going to escort Kevin Bacon to Chorrol.

I love his plan to become Vidkun, in order to use his horse. No point letting a good mount go to waste. And he can always count on no one being able to tell one Nord from another.

Well, for once Jerric had a nice quiet journey somewhere. Wait, what am I saying! Of course he could not make it all the way to his destination without some sort of trouble plaguing him. I swear, he is at bad at traveling as Tom Hanks (don't ever get on a plane or boat with that guy, because it's going to crash, or be hijacked, or something...)

[Acadian]

Well, by Julianos’ little teapot! Nereli is going to try and make something of that prissy knight club. And I bet she’ll succeed!

Urgh, Burz continues to impress – not!

’He had light blue eyes and a complexion that spoke of store-bought soap and libraries.’
- - A wonderfully creative and evocative description! Then it just gets better as you liken him to a field mouse bringing home an ogre’s breakfast.

A great idea to exploit the ‘all Nords look alike to Dunmer’ phenomenon and claim Vidkun’s horse.

Ahhh, Cevin reminds me of Buffy as he forked over every bit of his gold to the Cheydinhal stable for a precious black mare.

If Jerric decides to close that gate (and I bet he will), Cevin should be placed safely on horse-watching duty well away from the gate.

[Burnt Sierra]

"What's her name?" Jerric asked.

"Sable," said Cevin, wide-eyed. "What is yours called?"

Jerric's mind was a blank. "Smoke, uh, Smokey. Smoke."

I'm getting an image in my mind of a rather unimpressed horse giving Jerric a side eyed look here. Though whether that's for the new name, or the very eloquent way of naming, who can say?

Hm, Cevin is a touch on the nervous side.

"No. But I have gold. Not on my person! I'll have to stop at the bank."

Might be due to the big, scary Nord, but these two parts jumped out at me, waving their arms and screaming at me to take notice:

I traveled with a caravan from Mournhold, but there was an ambush as we crossed the border."

"I'm sorry you had to see that."

"You want to know how I survived. That's what everyone asks me."

"Well, yeah. That did cross my mind."

"I don't want to talk about it," said Cevin.

"Why haven't you joined another caravan? It would be easier than riding and cheaper than hiring your own guard."

Cevin looked like he might vomit. He shook his head.

I've learned to pay attention to the way you foreshadow things, and whilst this hasn't (yet) been made clear, I'm thinking there might be a little bit more to this story. Is it the shock and fear of what Cevin saw? Or is it more the shock of what he found himself capable of doing in order to survive? His obvious trepidation about being alone with Jerric not overriding his intense desire to not be a part of another caravan. The looking like he wanted to vomit, not shaking, or replaying a visual scene in his head, but a visceral physical reaction suggests to me more of an inner turmoil. I may be reading too much into that, but when you repeat something twice, yet still leave it unsaid, makes me wonder...

Looking forward to finding out more! Oblivion Gate time!

[Grits]

Previously: Jerric and Nereli put a dent in the FG’s wine supply with their late-night chat. Nereli shared her plans to improve the Knights of the Thorn as their Quartermaster. Jerric avoided talking about what was bothering him. In the morning Jerric picked up an escort contract from Burz, collected the lad who needed escorting, and then liberated Vidkun’s horse from the stable by being a Nord and paying the bill. Cevin bought a Cheydinhal Black, one of the fastest, toughest, most reliable horses in Cyrodiil. When they reached the outskirts of Chorrol, they found a Gate to Oblivion. Sorry this update is later than usual. I spent last week walking around Philadelphia, sweating like a Nord at noon on a Sentinel rooftop. Got home last night and I’m still running behind in most departments (including hydration).

ghastley: This Oblivion Gate is near Chorrol’s Statue Gate on the south side of the city. The Gates in Jerric’s world probably won’t line up exactly with the game’s placement and timing. Cevin is a Breton. I had him as both Cevin Geles and Cevin Surilie in my notes. Hopefully only Geles made it into the story. Thank you, ghastley!

SubRosa: I hoped that you would enjoy Nereli seizing the opportunity and changing her own fortunes. That Farwil, though. D’oh! For a career caravan guy, Jerric can’t seem to get from A to B without drama. They are never going to let him back on the roster at Running Wolf Post and Freight! Thank you, Rosa!

Acadian: I thought so much of Buffy and Superian as Cevin emptied his account to buy that glorious horse! If he wasn’t horse-crazy before, he will be now! Jerric completely agrees about the Gate. There is no way he’s going to drag a nervous lad who is under his care into one, but it will be nice to have someone holding the horses. And your bet is good that he’s going in to close it. Thank you, Acadian!

Burnt Sierra: You’re exactly right about the horse side-eye, I was picturing “Smoke-y Smoke” as entirely unimpressed! At least the horse can tell that Jerric is not Vidkun! I cut about half of Cevin and Jerric’s first meeting, so I am delighted to hear that what I hoped to convey came through. Cevin will eventually talk about the events that led him to choose a scary-Nord escort over a much-worse caravan. It will still be spring in the story, but probably late autumn for us when we get to that part. Thank you, Burnt!


For our next chapter we're not only switching to Abiene's point of view, but she's telling it in first person. I hope you'll forgive me for not arguing with her. Before we begin, here's a page from her journal.

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Abiene's Interlude Two, or is it Three?

429 of the Third Era, 14 Second Seed

"Come in, Marcellus. Abiene, prepare yourself."

The proctor stood aside as Marcellus entered the examination chamber. The door clicked shut behind them.

My bony rear rested on a bench along the wall of an arched passage deep underneath the Arcane University. I slid down to the end position. The line of fellow students behind me scooted one by one to fill the space. We were silent, hoping and hoping not to hear sounds from the testing chamber.

I was about to stand for my final examination in my primary field: Restoration magic. I had passed all of my other tests, demonstrating at least proficiency in every school of magic that the Mages Guild taught. Inside the chamber I would find a long table, housing a representative from every school. We students did not know who would be present for any particular exam. I composed a brief prayer to Lady Dibella that Curciel, newly promoted Master in my school of Restoration, would not have a seat at the table today.

Curciel possessed what I found to be a typical Altmer's view of humans as uppity pretenders whose short lifespans suit us to subservient lives. She reserved her sharpest disdain for those who dared question her. Though she far outranked me, I had done so at every opportunity. Then Curciel received her Mastery. Pride, ever my companion, was not my friend.

My Lady Dibella would scarcely concern herself with scholarly matters or anything to do with luck. Whoever was going to be at the table was already seated. Praying for someone else was tantamount to wishing for something to befall them. Before that caravan of thought went any further, the door opened. Marcellus emerged, stone-faced.

The proctor consulted her clipboard. "Come in, Abiene. Othos, prepare yourself." She held the door open.

I was too nervous to do more than nod at her. These examinations were pass or fail. While it would seem that I should be assured a pass, some examiners took a student with advanced skills or particular talents as a challenge to their sovereignty. I was both highly skilled and naturally gifted. The school of Restoration was broad, and my knowledge was deepest in the areas of healing. I was not confident of a ready pass.

Inside the room I saw Dominus, the Dean of Destruction, Juliana from the Illusion school, Dro'Mari from Alteration, my dear friend Gantos representing Mysticism, Walks-In-Shadow of Conjuration, Dran the Necromancer… then my eyes were drawn over the rest to the center of the table. Of course she had taken the seat in the middle.

Curciel. She sat easily in the large chair, chin propped on the back of one hand.

Raminus Polus, our Dean of Undergraduate Studies, spoke. "Please state your name."

"Abiene Metonne, standing for my practical exam in Restoration."

"Abiene," said Curciel. "You may take your position. Goodness, isn't this your last exam? You must know where you can go by now."

I stepped onto the spot that should be stained with the sweat of a thousand shaking mages, but that was as neatly swept and scrubbed as the rest of the floor's paving stones.

Don't let her get to you. You can perform any spell that she requires. I willed my hands, my chin, and my voice not to shake. "I am ready, Master Curciel."

Curciel gestured with her narrow, golden hand. The proctor opened a door at the side of the chamber.

Two Imperials emerged, wearing the University's shortened battle robes. Between them they dragged a bound, struggling goblin. Its face was swollen on one side, its shirt torn and bloodied.

The violence of the situation sent sick tendrils through my gut. Who had beaten this goblin? A classmate? Did they mean for me to heal it?

Once the guards withdrew, Curciel flicked her fingers at me. "Kill it."

The Novice level of the spell was simply called Absorb Health. Advanced versions had more sinister appellations. I had used it in class on summoned creatures, but I had never killed any living thing. Numb, I cast the spell.

In a blink the goblin was obscured by a red haze. Its life energy rushed into mine through my outstretched hands. Hot joy churned in my chest, mixed with a keening horror. I heard my victim's groan along with a shriek. The cry had come from my throat.

I broke the spell. The goblin lay on its side, face turned away from me. Its arms still twitched against the bindings. I knelt and reached for the pitiful creature, my hands filled with healing light.

A bolt of lightning sent its body spinning into the wall.

"Failed," said Master Curciel. Shock energy still danced across her palm.

I felt frozen in place, unable to draw a breath. The magical light in my hands turned from golden to livid red.

Raminus Polus made a small sound, drawing everyone's attention. He finished his notations with a flourish, then tapped his stylus against the quartz tablet. A copy of his writing would appear on a linked page in his office. An assistant may already have the document in their hands, ready to place it in the stack on top of Marcellus's exam record.

"She passes," Raminus said. "Tamriel needs more healers."

[Kane]

Hah! Shove it, Curciel!

[SubRosa]

Curciel? The name alone sounds excruciating.

Dominus, the Dean of Destruction. I hate to say it, but this sounds like the ring name of a professional wrestler!

Well, that was disgusting. So apparently being willing to commit murder without question is a requirement for becoming a Mage? Well apparently not everyone there felt so, since Raminus passed Abiene. Granted, if it was a test to see if she would not kill the goblin, then I would have more respect for them. But given that no one blinked an eye at Cruciel killing the goblin, that is clearly not the case.

And yes, goblins are monsters. But that does not make their torture and outright murder ethical. In fact, reducing others to the status of being monsters is how all genocides take place. It looks like Cruciel wants to see only fascists in the guild, who will not hesitate to murder whomever is conveniently labeled as a monster next.

[Acadian]

Wonderful job of portraying Abienne’s nervous concerns and their rationale.

Curciel clearly had a good idea of Abienne’s ‘weakness’ by asking her to kill a helpless and pre-bloodied goblin, when a simple summoned scamp or skeleton would have readily tested her ability to cast the desired absorb health spell. As a true healer, Abienne balked at the request.

I’m glad Raminus has the wisdom to understand the mentality of a healer and pass Abienne. His next order of business should be to fire Curciel – or at least remove her from anything to do with the school of restoration!

I enjoyed the subtle additions you made to what the game provides – more practical robes for battlemages and having the school of necromancy represented at the table. It was many years ago that Abienne reshaped Buffy’s thinking about necromancy and the positive role it can play in healing. Specifically, in restoring dead tissue.