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

[SubRosa]

Jerric's claustrophobia at going into the tunnel was a good touch, as it makes him a down-to-nirn person with vulnerabilities.

Jerric looked for the familiar entrance to the castle dungeons
This brought a faint smile to my lips!

A very exciting, fast-paced battle in the courtyard. Jerric's being able to save one soldier at the cost of another's life was outstanding writing! You continued the pace through the castle, to its tragic conclusion. Very hot and desperate!

The was of course perfect. Jerric's soul being crushed under the weight of knowing that it was all for nothing, searching through the bodies and ashes for the remains of his family. Powerful stuff.



nits:
I was a little confused about where Rilian was shot. Eventually I figured out it was in the throat, but that was only a few sentences later. Perhaps you might add something into one of the first two sentences in that paragraph telling us the arrow was in his throat?

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Feb 15 2011, 05:54 PM

[Grits]

haute ecole rider: You can imagine it was upsetting to write. What you described is what I was hoping very much to convey. It means a lot that it came through for you. I appreciate your support through this chapter so much, thank you h.e.r.!!

mALX: The tunnel is such a nothing event in the game, but when I thought about it I realized how scary it would be. Thanks, mALX!! I’m glad Jerric’s emotional state came through, it seemed important.

Acadian: Thank you, Acadian! Jerric was definitely walking a fine line throughout. This chapter has me seriously considering switching from the PS3, if only to make Kvatch pretty again.

Captain Hammer: Thank you, I really appreciate your comments. I knew it was going to be tough when I made Kvatch his hometown, but whew!

SubRosa: I couldn’t bring Jerric back to the castle without having him remember his many walks of shame. Thank you so much for your support. This chapter has been quite a journey! Is the Rilian arrow any clearer? I moved a sentence around a little.




Chapter 7: Kvatch Part 7


Abiene opened the door to the guild hall, fanning herself. She stepped out of the Anvil sun and into the welcome cool. A grumble from her stomach made her wonder if she had missed lunch. Marc Gulitte and Darnand stood in front of Carahil’s counter in conversation with Baeralorn, the mage from the castle. Carahil was absent from her usual position. Abiene realized it was later in the day than she had thought if Baeralorn was already here for his customary afternoon visit. She took in the sight of Marc’s chubby cheeks and Baeralorn’s outlandish stripes of hair next to Darnand’s lean elegance. He looks like a stag standing between a skunk and a tree rat, she thought with amusement. Then his words struck the whimsy out of her head.

“They’re talking of a blonde Nord who ran through the Oblivion Gate and closed it,” Darnand was saying to them. “He went into Kvatch with the City Guard when they took back the city. He fought against the fire atronachs and dremora mages, and their spells couldn’t touch him. They’re calling him the Kvatch Lion.”

Abiene’s heart leaped in her chest, and her stomach filled with butterflies. She hurried down the steps and stood next to Marc to listen, holding her breath. Baeralorn spoke next. “What is his name? Do you suppose it could be Jerric?”

“No one knows his name. They say he fought with a blue sword and frost spells,” replied Darnand. “I think it was him.” Darnand’s eyes met Abiene’s. “Good afternoon,” he said to her politely.

“Most Nords are blonde, it could have been anyone,” said Marc. Abiene wanted to put her hands around his throat. She gave Darnand a nervous smile.

Darnand’s voice sounded calm, but Abiene had spent enough time watching him to see the tension in his posture. “A Nord battlemage from Kvatch with amber eyes and those scars on his face? Jerric was born under the Atronach, that would explain how he absorbed the spells. He would jump into Oblivion to save his family, don’t you remember how he talked about them? It’s enough to give me hope.”

Marc nodded. “That’s true. He couldn’t open his mouth without saying something about his Ma. What a pity.”

Darnand ignored him and looked back at Abiene. “As soon as Felen is ready, we’re leaving with supplies. Glafeviel is coming with us, she plans to stay with anyone who is left from the guild. The Mages Guild will still have a Kvatch chapter. The people there will need us.”

Marc spoke in a querulous tone. “Why lion? The Kvatch Guard wears the black wolf.”

Darnand shot him an irritated look, and his voice further betrayed his annoyance. “Because he fought alone, perhaps. He’s not one of the City Guard. Maybe the yellow eyes, Jerric does have a leonine appearance. He’s certainly larger than the average city guardsman. Why do you think, Gulitte?”

Baeralorn glanced between the two Bretons, looking mildly entertained. “I didn’t know you and Jerric were such good friends, Darnand,” he observed. “I might have named him the Kvatch Jester. I seem to recall he got the best of you on more than one occasion.”

Darnand turned on Baeralorn just as Marc opened his mouth to speak again. Abiene found her voice and interrupted them. “Does Jerric have a blue sword?” she asked.

She watched Darnand compose himself. The firm resolve in his face gave her something to hold on to. “I have no idea, but when I see him I’m going to ask,” he said. “He survived the battle. The Kvatch Lion is still alive.” Darnand took her arm and led her a few steps into the small receiving room. She heard Marc and Baeralorn continue talking in the hall. “I know you share my optimism, Abiene. Do you have a message for Jerric? I could take it for you.” His eyes seemed to search her face.

Abiene’s emotions swirled her thoughts into a confused mess. The breathless hope that Jerric might still live mixed with the thrill that Darnand was showing an interest in her. She warmed to Darnand’s hand on her sleeve, but then the memory of Jerric’s heat raced over her skin. She took a shaky breath, and then another so that she was sure her voice would sound firm. Darnand stood waiting. “I’m sure he has a great deal on his mind other than his restoration trainer,” she said primly. “If you think of it, just tell him I hope he returns to Anvil soon.” Please bring him back to me, she thought. I need to see him again.

___

Sigrid smoothed her hair and stepped out of her new tent. Legion Riders had brought them yesterday along with bedrolls, cots, and cooking supplies. For the first time in nearly a week she felt refreshed. She shook out the folds of her blue gown, now clean. I suppose I should be thankful I was up late that night, she thought. At least I’m not still wearing a nightdress.

She walked the few paces to Oleta’s tent and peeked in. Oleta looked up from where she knelt folding bandages. “He’s up,” Oleta said. “He checked on his horse, then I sent him to the creek to wash. Try Tavia’s cookfire.”

Sigrid nodded briskly. “How is he?”

“Healed. Rested. Still not talking.” Oleta sighed and looked down at her hands. “Maybe I shouldn’t have kept him asleep for so long.”

“He wasn’t himself. You did the right thing, Oleta. We need to give him some time to adjust,” Sigrid replied. “Remember, for him this all just happened.”

“At least now we have canvas over our heads and something to feed him. See if you can get him to eat. It’s been days.”

Sigrid walked through the camp until she spotted Jerric on a log bench beside Tavia's cookfire. He sat with his forearms braced against his thighs, back hunched and head down. He wore the clothes that she had washed for him. His wet hair looked clean. It's a start, she thought.

She moved to the fire and sat down near him, but he didn’t seem to notice her. “I’m pleased to see you, Jerric,” she said softly. He didn’t respond, so she decided just to talk to him. "It looks like Tavia found something for her pot. And I smell kahve.” Sigrid searched his bleak face. His wide eyes stared at nothing, utterly empty. "The fires have burned out in the city. There's already talk of rebuilding." She wondered if he even knew she was speaking. “Supplies are starting to come in.” She reached out and touched his arm. "We have lost all we had, but we’re starting again. I could use another mage. You have a future here, Jerric."

He held an empty cup in his hands. Sigrid gently took it from him and filled it with kahve from the pot hanging over the edge of the coals. She gave it back to him, pressing his fingers around the cup until he gripped it. Steam rose. Sigrid sat and waited.

Finally he met her eyes, and she saw that he was back behind them. His face wore all of the guilt and sorrow she was feeling. “I should have been here, Sigrid. I slept not half a day’s walk from here while they burned.”

Sigrid steeled herself for what she knew she had to say. This was no time for gentle words, only the truth. She hoped he was ready to face it. “You would have died with them, Jerric. I used my spells to get through the fire, but you would have fought until your last breath and then died along with the rest. Do you see any other Nords out here, or any children? No one escaped who was slowed by little ones. The only difference you would have made is more blood on the ground and your ashes in the wind. Don’t tell yourself you could have saved them.” Sigrid realized that her hands were shaking. She pressed them against her knees to still them.

His expression didn’t change at her words. “I couldn’t find them. They have to be somewhere, but I couldn’t find them.”

“They’re not here, Jerric, they’ve gone on together to the great halls of Sovngarde. Even your smallest cousin had a dragon’s heart. Can you at least take some comfort knowing that?”

“I don’t know what to believe. My Fa’s shadow has already found me in my dreams. How can I avenge him? I don’t even know who to kill.”

“There’s nothing you can do for them. You have to let them go.” Sigrid realized that her words weren’t just for him. “You’re still alive, Jerric. Don’t waste it.”

They sat in silence for awhile, and then he spoke again. “I can’t stay in Kvatch. I wish I was strong enough, but I don’t know how to be here without them." Jerric rose and drank the kahve. "I have a promise to keep," he said, and he handed her his empty cup. "Where is Brother Martin?"

This post has been edited by Grits: Feb 17 2011, 06:10 PM

[haute ecole rider]

It's good to have a quiet chapter after the last couple heart-pounding ones. It's time to sit, think about what happened, grieve. It's not yet time to start thinking about the future. Your writing reflects many of the same things most trauma victims go through. The progression of emotional events are well represented here, with Jerric just coming to terms with events, and Sigrid already a bit further along and starting to think about tomorrow and the day after.

And Abiene is torn between lust for Darnand and her fondness for Jerric? I can relate to that!

[SubRosa]

That is a little better with Rilian's arrow. But it you still have to read several sentences in before you find where the arrow is. I think the most confusing part is the bit about his legs having stilled, which makes one think of the arrow is lower. It is basically a matter of what you think the reader should know first. You might consider something like this:
Jerric scrambled over to Rilian, and for a moment he was blinded by fire as a flare hit his back. When the flames dissipated he saw that the fletchings of an arrow rose from Rilian's throat. The soldier clutched at the missile with both hands, and red bubbles frothed through his fingers. Rilian's eyes were open, locked on his own. No time, Jerric thought. He ripped out the arrow and clapped his hand over Rilian’s.


Now on to the new episode. First off, it is nice to see Darnand again, after so long. I love Abiene's observation about the skunk, tree rat, and stag. Since he is the latter, I am guessing that she might be housing him now? From what I see later on, I guess not. Yet at least. The Kvatch Lion is also a good nickname, given Jerric's blond hair and of course a lion's mane.

“Does Jerric have a blue sword?”
I would think Abiene is more familiar with the color of Jerric's sword than any of the guys. Unless Servilla the Serpent was not an isolated incident...

At least I’m not still wearing a nightdress.
Damn! If only she had went to bed early!

Finally, even fully-dressed as she is, Sigrid gives excellent advice. Both pointing out that Jerric's coulda', woulda' shoulda' been there would just leave him as dead as everyone else, as well as the fact that it is time to take what you have and get down to the work of living.


nits:
Sigrid stepped out of her new tent, smoothing her hair. Legion Riders had brought them yesterday
This makes it sound like the legion riders brought hair, rather than tents. You might consider reversing the smoothing and stepping?

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Feb 17 2011, 06:05 PM

[Acadian]

Delightful seeing Abiene again, albeit under poor circumstances. It is wonderful that the Anvil guild is responding to their guild mates in Kvatch.

The last part of this story, where Sigrid is trying to comfort Jerric (and herself) is quite touching. Sigrid's plight at Kvatch has always tugged at my heart, and Jerric's plight is now poignantly fresh in our minds after the several wonderful chapters that preceeded this one.

[mALX]

She moved to the fire and sat down near him, but he didn’t seem to notice her.

She should remove her top, the headlights would blink his attention to her.

I don’t know what to believe. My Fa’s shadow has already found me in my dreams. How can I avenge him? I don’t even know who to kill.”

This sentence is as powerful as it gets - huge emotions in Jerric here that leaves the reader with the same numbness and feeling of being stunned beyond what the human mind can comprehend. Your ability as a writer has always been obvious to the reader, but never so much as in these Kvatch chapters - Totally Awesome, there could be no other word more deserving of your story !!!

[ghastley]

She moved to the fire and sat down near him, but he didn’t seem to notice her.

She should remove her top, the headlights would blink his attention to her.

But a few lines later:

Finally he met her eyes.

That would have been delayed indefinitely if she'd done as you suggest.

[mALX]

She moved to the fire and sat down near him, but he didn’t seem to notice her.

She should remove her top, the headlights would blink his attention to her.

But a few lines later:

Finally he met her eyes.

That would have been delayed indefinitely if she'd done as you suggest.

You are right about that, here is what he would have seen (covered up, of course) :


http://images.uesp.net//thumb/4/44/OB-npc-...-npc-Sigrid.jpg


*

[Captain Hammer]

The Lion of Kvatch.

Sorry, just had to draw attention to that. The use of the animal motif is only enhanced by Jerric, not only for his physical resemblance (a blond man with a decent beard is nothing if not leonine) but for his heart as well.

Of course, you realize that I'm never going to think of him as anything other than "Jerric the Lionheart" now.

The chapter itself was a great exercise in the emotions that occur after a battle. The way the residents of Anvil's Mages' Guild respond to the reports about the closing of the gate, how Abiene reacts to learning that Jerric may still be alive, and their plans for the Kvatch guildhall are all excellent ingredients that make this story work.

[Grits]

haute ecole rider: I put a lot of thought into what Sigrid would say to him. I’m really glad it made sense. Yep, Abiene is definitely conflicted. She’s had that slow burn for Darnand since before last Saturalia, but then along came Jerric. She is definitely fun to write, I’m so glad she is relatable. Thank you, haute ecole rider!!

SubRosa: Thanks for welcoming Darnand back. He’s certainly giving Abiene some mixed emotions. Glad you liked the animal comparisons, especially the lion. It seems to fit Jerric much better than Hero of Kvatch. I had to laugh about the blue sword. It says a lot about my mental state that I missed it!! Also thanks for pointing out Sigrid’s advice. I wanted to give her more than just a legendary rack. I fixed the sentence that implied the Legion brought Sigrid a wig. D’oh!

Acadian: Thanks for welcoming Abiene back. I’ve missed her! We’ll see more sides of her soon, good as well as stuff she could improve upon. I feel the same way about Sigrid, I’m pleased that she touched your heart. Your kind words are so encouraging, Acadian.

mALX: Sigrid is going to have to flash her headlights in another story! Poor Jerric brought her a bag of scamp skin, then got distracted by events and failed to make a pass at her. Thank you for your kind words, mALX. That you can feel what he’s going through means so much to me!

ghastley: Not sure how many people manage to look Sigrid in the eye. If she took her top off, poor Martin would have a long, lonely walk to the Priory.

Captain Hammer:

Of course, you realize that I'm never going to think of him as anything other than "Jerric the Lionheart" now.

Just what I was hoping for, but I didn’t want to spell it out. Thank you so much, Captain Hammer!! I’m pleased to hear the different sections worked together. I wanted to bring some characters back into the story, but I was concerned that the way I did it might be too choppy.


A note: Although I play around with events from the game, Vonius really died during the game battle, and the sigil stone in this section is the actual one that Jerric got. You should have heard me shout. Thank you for reading!



Chapter 7: Kvatch Part 8

Jerric walked toward Brother Martin where he sat idly by the fire. Martin saw him and rose as he approached. Jerric had missed the resemblance to Emperor Septim before, but now it was clear in Martin’s pale eyes and solemn face. “I heard about how you helped the Guard drive the daedra back,” Martin said. “Well done.” Jerric recognized the same resonance in Martin’s voice.

“Brother Martin, I need to speak with you privately.” Martin didn’t reply, but he followed Jerric away from the fire. “Do you know who I am?” Jerric asked him.

“Of course. You’re Kjelling and Sonstra’s youngest. We met when you were just a lad, but it’s been years since I’ve seen you in the chapel. I’m well acquainted with your mother. She spoke of you often.” Martin stopped and turned toward Jerric. “Do you need a priest? I don’t think I’ll be much help to you. I’m having trouble understanding the gods right now. If all this is part of a divine plan, I’m not sure I want anything to do with it.”

“There is a plan, Brother Martin. It gives me no comfort to tell you, but we’re part of it.”

“What are you talking about?” Martin’s voice took on a bitter edge. “I prayed to Akatosh all through that terrible night, but no help came. Only more daedra. What can you possibly know that would help me make sense of this?”

Jerric didn’t know how to speak any way but plainly. “Brother Martin, you are Uriel Septim’s son.”

“Emperor Uriel Septim? You think the emperor is my father? No, you must have the wrong man. My father was a farmer.” Jerric saw anger and denial in Martin’s face. A part of him already believes me, he realized.

“You know the man who raised you isn’t your father. I was there when the emperor was murdered. He told me I must find his last son and close shut the jaws of Oblivion. His last words were of you, Martin. The daedra came here for you.”

“An entire city destroyed to get at me?” Martin demanded, aghast. “Why? Because I’m the emperor’s son?” Horror flooded into Martin’s face.

“I don’t understand what they want,” Jerric said quickly. “There’s something about the Dragonfires being out and Oblivion. I only know that they’ve killed the emperor and all of his heirs, and now they’ve come for you. They destroyed Kvatch, and then they left. Why would they leave if they wanted the city? If you really knew my Ma, then you know it’s not in me to lie. Do you want to wait here and find out that I’m right? You’ll know it when they come back for you.” Jerric had tried to keep the frustration out of his voice, but he could hear it himself. He willed Martin to believe him.

Martin looked away toward the trees, and conflicting emotions battled in his face. “I don’t know,” he finally said. “It’s strange, I think you might actually be telling the truth.” Martin’s expression changed to wariness, and he looked back at Jerric sternly. “What does this mean? What do you want from me?”

“Come with me to Weynon Priory,” Jerric urged. “Brother Jauffre is the Grandmaster of the Blades, I’ll take you to him. He’ll tell you what you must do for the Empire.”

Now Martin appeared calm and resigned. “You destroyed the Oblivion Gate, they say. You gave them hope. You helped them drive the daedra back. Yes. I’ll come with you to Weynon Priory and see what Jauffre has to say. Lead on, when you’re ready.”

Jerric felt relief, followed by the pressing need to get away from Kvatch immediately. “Brother Martin, please gather what you’ll need for a week’s journey through the wilderness. We can stop to pick up more food, but you’ll need blankets. Also I suggest you put aside your priest’s robes as soon as we are out of sight. The assassins who killed the emperor were mer and men. We should assume they will be looking for you.” Jerric rubbed his hands through his hair, trying to think. Beyond convincing Martin to go with him, he didn’t have much of a plan. “I’ll meet you at the foot of the Kvatch Road as soon as I can. You shouldn’t tell anyone where you’re going. I need to speak to Captain Matius before I go.”

“Berich Inian is the Captain of the Guard now. We made Savlian the Steward of Kvatch until the Council decides what to do.”

“I need to speak with Steward Matius, then.”

Martin gave him a brisk nod and headed toward the city gate. The city must be secure, Jerric thought. Get yourself moving. He walked to the tent where he had seen Matius earlier. The former Guard Captain seemed smaller in his civilian clothes. He stood outside at a desk made from a door placed over standing logs. Sheets of parchment were spread across the surface, held down with stones against the breeze. Matius looked up and began to speak as soon as Jerric reached him.

“Good, you’re on your feet,” he said. “Here’s what you missed. We’ve started salvaging from the city. Some supplies have arrived from Anvil, and more are on the way. Count Hassildor has promised aid. Legion Riders have brought more every day. I’ve made Berich Inian the Captain of the Kvatch Guard again. You and I have had our differences in the past, Jerric, but the Guard could use you. Kvatch was rebuilt from ruins before, and she’ll do it again.” Matius’ voice rang with pride and determination. In his mind Jerric put up another statue next to the one of Antus Pinder.

“I’m leaving, Steward Matius. I don’t know if I’ll return.” He returned Matius’ gaze without shame. “I have always respected you, however foolish my actions. I believe that Kvatch will rise. But not for me.”

Matius nodded. He turned and retrieved some things from the tent, and he held them out to Jerric. “I hoped you would stay, but I want you to take this, regardless of your decision. I’m through with fighting. It may serve you well in the days to come. Batul made the adjustments while you were recovering.” Jerric looked at the Kvatch Wolf embroidered on the surcoat in his hands, speechless. Matius’ cuirass, he realized with awe. “I thank you for risking your life to help us,” Matius was saying. “I can ask nothing more of you, Jerric. Go your own way, and may Akatosh guide you.”

Jerric didn’t trust his voice. Steward Matius gripped his arm, and then Jerric just walked away. A few steps took him to the City Guards’ tent. Inian stood outside with Merandil. The Altmer nodded at something Inian told him and left as Jerric approached. “Captain Inian,” Jerric said. Then he couldn’t find the words.

Inian gave him a long look. “I guessed you might be going,” he said. “I had hoped you would stay with us.” Jerric was relieved to find no judgment in Inian’s expression.

“How could I?” Jerric managed a small smile. “You don’t have a prison cell for me.”

“Any of these tents would hold you.” Inian smiled back at him. “No dungeon has ever seen a more pleasant inmate. You know, old Brocchus never bothered to check for mail unless he came to work and heard you in the drunk tank singing. He told me you were just as reliable as the flags that they hung outside the caravan office, and much easier for him to see.”

Jerric looked at his feet and nodded. “Old Brocchus. He could sure spin a tale. And he never minded starting over when I passed out in the middle.” He looked back at Inian. “I’ve got to go,” he said simply.

“Hold on another moment, Jerric. I have something for you.” Inian ducked into his tent.

“I can’t take anything from you, Captain. I should be giving you what I have, but I can’t.”

“I don’t want to hear it. Your fines probably outfitted half of the City Guard.” Inian emerged from the tent with a Kvatch Wolf shield in his hands. “They told me you carried this in the Deadlands. Vonich would want you to have it. He went through the Gate to try to save his bride. Vonich was a good man, one of the best. You’ve earned it, Jerric.”

“He saved us all, Captain Inian. He and Menien. They told me what I needed to do in the Deadlands.”

“We’ll keep his name alive along with all of those who were left there. Kvatch has a new generation of heroes, and some of them are living.”

Jerric knew what Inian meant, and it made him uncomfortable. “As soon as I can, I plan to tell the tale of Savlian Matius, Hero of Kvatch. You’ll be in it too, Captain Inian. It won’t do any good to talk about me after I’ve left. The real heroes are the ones who stay and pick up the pieces.”

“I’m too old to stand here and try to convince a post that it’s made of wood.” Inian got his arm around Jerric, cuirass, shield, and all. He thumped him on the back. “Akatosh guide you, Jerric. Whether you know it or not.”

Jerric walked to Batul’s tent, following the sound of her hammer. She saw him approaching and got his greaves ready. “Here,” she said. “Get that cuirass on too, I want to check the fit. You were kicking like a wild thing the last time I saw you.”

“I guess I was dreaming.” Now there’s an understatement, thought Jerric. He shrugged into his gear and stood for inspection. He felt magicka strengthening him even as it glinted across his vision. This cuirass is enchanted, he realized with amazement.

She checked him over and appeared to be satisfied. “I’m good,” she observed. Jerric thought that was another understatement. Batul picked up a long sword in its scabbard and handed it to him. “Do you recognize this? You brought it back from the Deadlands. It belonged to a good friend of mine. I made it for him.”

“I recognized your work, Batul. It got me through a bad time in the Deadlands, I can tell you. It’s a lot like the sword my Fa had you make for me.”

“I know it is. You should have it.”

“Batul, thank you.” He thought how inadequate the words seemed. “You made a new scabbard. How did you have time for all this?”

“I haven’t slept much. None of us have. What am I going to do at night, go sit in a burned out tavern? Work keeps my mind from dwelling on what I’ve lost. Take a look at the blade, Jerric.”

He drew the steel blade and whistled at the white magicka that shimmered over it. “You enchanted it! How?”

“Sigrid did, with the stone you brought back from inside that Gate. Look at the scabbard and figure it out.” She turned it in his hands.

“Atronach’s Redeemer. What, does this sword absorb magicka?” he asked, astonished.

The smith clapped him on the shoulder, and he staggered half a step. “You’re not as dumb as you look. She told me what to write.”

“Batul, I could kiss you. I can’t pay you for all of this.”

She barked a short laugh, probably the first heard in the encampment. “Go kiss Sigrid, you know you want to. Lion of Kvatch.” He gave her a quizzical look. “That’s what they’re calling you. On account of your crazy heroics. Or because you don’t know how to use a comb, one or the other.” She stepped back and looked him over again. Appraising her work, he decided. “You closed the Gate, and I got my tools back. Let’s call this one even. I’ll charge you next time, though, you can count on it.”

“Thank you, Batul.” This time the smile came more easily. “I mean for not eating my horse.” Jerric headed down the road toward Flash.

“Ha!” she called after him. “You’re just lucky we didn’t have any onions.”

When Jerric reached Flash, he found Sigrid there waiting for him. He dropped his burdens next to the pile of packs and tack and ran his hands down Flash’s neck. “Remember me, fellow? I’m afraid I’ve been pretty rude lately.” Flash turned his head and snorted some breath against Jerric’s chest.

“I’ve packed you some food,” Sigrid said. “Oleta won’t give me any peace if you don’t take it.”

“I’ll take it,” Jerric replied. He rummaged through his packs on the ground. “Here, it’s scamp skin. I was bringing it to give you.”

They traded packages. “For my Mage’s Bane poison. Thank you, Jerric.” Sigrid stood in the shade of a twisted pine tree. For the first time Jerric noticed how young she looked, and how lost.

“I wish I could give you more, but I’m afraid I’ll need it,” he told her. He started balancing the packs and preparing to leave. “Batul told me you enchanted my sword. How did you do it, Evoker?”

Sigrid straightened her posture, and her characteristic strength and pride sounded in her voice again. “The stone you retrieved is a Sigil Stone. It carried both the enchantment itself and the power to imbue an object with it. The process is very similar to alchemy. You already have the ability to read the enchantment, you just need to hold the stone and an object and use your will to combine them. The way you read the potential in ingredients and then will their fusion in your mortar. I doubt you even realize what you’re doing; alchemy seems to come naturally to you. You were one of my easiest students. Your skills developed quickly despite your casual technique and obvious distraction. I’ve read about sigil stones, but I was still surprised that I could actually use it. I hope you’re pleased with your sword, I should have asked you first.”

Jerric decided there was just no polite way to explain his distraction during their alchemy lessons. “I’m more than pleased. I just dropped the cursed thing on the ground and walked away from it. I’ll thank you every time I use this sword.” He secured the last buckle and stood beside Flash. I don’t want to leave, but I don’t want to stay, he thought. Calm purpose rose up inside him, and he realized it didn’t matter what he wanted. Surprisingly, the thought was a comfort.

Sigrid stepped forward and put out her hand. “I’ll have more to trade than sandwiches the next time we meet, Associate.”

Jerric took her hand and squeezed it for a moment. “Until then.” He clucked his tongue to Flash, and the two of them started down the road to meet Martin.

[haute ecole rider]

In his mind Jerric put up another statue next to the one of Antus Pinder.

What, you're not waiting until dear Savlian Matius is dead first? May he live a long and useful life!

Jerric decided there was just no polite way to explain his distraction during their alchemy lessons

Ya think?

I rather enjoyed this chapter, from Jerric telling Martin about his ancestry to speaking with Steward Matius and Captain Inian to saying farewell to Batul and Sigrid.

[SubRosa]

So I see Jerric is taking the Bosmer path, through the wilderness. A good idea, since it is likely that more assassins might by lying in wait on the obvious routes to Weynon. Likewise, his idea that Martin should get out of his robes and wear something normal is again, good thinking.

So Matius is now the Steward? That makes good sense, as well as promoting Inian to his old job. His decision to give Jerric his cuirass makes much more sense now, as he is now formally giving up the military life and becoming a civilian leader.

I loved the little bit about Bocchus and Jerric in the drunk tank! Little things like that really make a character and setting come alive.

Atronach’s Redeemer is a wonderful name for a sword, and with a perfect enchantment behind it!

Or because you don’t know how to use a comb


I loved Sigrd's explanation of how alchemy and sigil stone enchanting work. It seems Teresa is not the only natural alchemist around.

[Acadian]

A great prelude to leaving Kvatch.

“I’m too old to stand here and try to convince a post that it’s made of wood.”
I loved this!

You consistently and effectively wove just the right touches throughout this story that displayed that Jerric and these people all knew each other and were all residents of Kvatch.

In the scene with Batul, you really struck that magical blend of truth, poignancy and humor. Well done!

'Calm purpose rose up inside him, and he realized it didn’t matter what he wanted. Surprisingly, the thought was a comfort.'
This is a brilliant passage. Despite what could almost seem contradictory, it makes absolute perfect sense.

[Grits]

haute ecole rider: I’m glad you enjoyed it! It was mostly taking care of business, but the characters made me want to linger.

SubRosa: You got it, and now Jerric has a reason to thank Maglir. I’m glad you approve of Savlian’s new job. The game’s treatment seemed abrupt and unsatisfying to me. Darnand disagrees with Sigrid on the subject of Jerric’s alchemy, and Felen will weigh in on the subject soon. Darnand would point out that if Jerric was a natural alchemist like Teresa, surely he would find a way to make himself smell better. Apricots and vanilla, aaaaah! Thank you, SubRosa!

Acadian: Thank you for your kind words, Acadian! Batul struck me as a no-nonsense survivor, and someone Jerric would have known well. To my surprise, she was ready with a joke. The passage you pointed out is important to understanding Jerric’s mindset throughout this chapter. Starting over has been postponed for him, and grieving has been interrupted. Thank you so much for drawing attention to it!



Chapter 8: Running, Part 1

When Jerric and Flash reached the rocks at the base of the Kvatch Road, Martin stepped out from his cover. He wore plain clothing under a dark grey cloak. His sturdy shoes looked well-worn, and Jerric guessed they were his own. A dagger hung from Martin’s belt. He carried rolled blankets and a small pack in his hands. Jerric took the bedroll and added it to Flash’s load. “Do you want to put that on Flash, or carry it?” Jerric asked him, nodding to the pack.

“Carry it.” Martin shrugged it over his shoulders. “Lead on.”

They started walking down the Gold Road. Meadowlarks trilled their joy from the thickets on both sides of the road. Flash playfully nudged Jerric’s back as they walked, snorting wetly on his neck. The sun shone warm in the cloudless sky. Jerric had a troubling feeling of disconnection. He had to look down at his stained surcoat to remember what was real. He realized that he needed to make a plan.

“I think we should take the road as far as Skingrad,” he decided. “I know a place to stop for food, and I need to get my sword recharged. We can cut north from there across the Imperial Reserve and hope we’re not seen leaving the road. What do you think, Brother Martin?”

“Just Martin now, I must leave the priest behind.” They walked a few more paces. “You will be recognized in your Kvatch cuirass. Young Rilian told your tale to everyone who came through the camp while he was recovering. That lad could be a bard.”

Jerric considered. “I suppose it won’t hurt to be seen going east. We could be heading almost anywhere in Cyrodiil. I’d like to push hard until we get to Skingrad. Only stop after sunset until moonrise, then keep going as soon as we have enough light. We can rest when we get away from people. Can you do it? Good. I’ll go into the Mages Guild, you and Flash should be safe hiding out around the Grateful Pass Stable. Shout if there’s trouble, you should get Tilmo from the stable and a Skingrad guard.” He dug into his daypack and pulled out Sigrid’s package. “Flatbread around some kind of meat. Here you go. Eat and then we’ll save our breath for walking.”

They passed a lot of folk on the road, and Jerric’s cuirass did attract attention. They kept moving each time someone hailed them, calling out their greetings and waving off the questions that followed. Jerric set a pace that had Martin trotting every few steps to keep up. The number of small caravans headed toward Kvatch made Jerric hopeful. Soon Sigrid will have some salt to put on her mystery sandwiches, he thought.

They got most of the way into Gnoll’s Meeting Camp before the residents had them surrounded, peppering them with questions. One lad’s piercing treble rang out over the other voices. “Jerric, aren’t you the Hero of Kvatch? The one who closed the gate and saved the city?” Jerric recognized the freckled face and solemn, dark brown eyes. Carmia’s boy, Faustino.

“The city was destroyed, no one saved it,” Jerric told him. He saw Faustino’s face fall, and he realized that they needed to believe in a hero. This isn’t about you, he told himself. He looked around at the other folk who were crowding him. “Savlian Matius is the Hero of Kvatch. Almost everyone that’s left alive, he got out of the city. He discovered that the Gate could be closed, and he led the fight that drove out the daedra. Savlian Matius serves the people now as Steward of the city.” Jerric took a breath. “Berich Inian is the Hero of Kvatch. He leads the City Guard now as Captain. Menien Goneld. Ilend Vonius. Many brave folk went in to close that Gate, and most of them were lost in the Deadlands. Those are the names of your heroes. They kept the daedra from your homes. Now there’s work to be done in Kvatch, and opportunity for those with the strong backs and stomachs to do it.” Martin stood beside Flash while Jerric made his speech, and Jerric could not read his expression. “They need food and supplies,” he continued. “In these times you don’t need to wield a sword to be a hero.”

Jerric saw questions on many faces, but he turned away from them. He caught Carmia’s eye. “A moment, Carmia.” She walked with him the few steps to the cookfire. The others talked amongst themselves now, comparing their versions of what he had just said. What rumors did I just start, he wondered. He turned his attention to Carmia. “I need food for a journey. I can’t explain, and I can’t pay you. There’s trouble.”

Carmia gave him a piercing look. “You’ve never asked anyone here for a favor, and I don’t expect you will again. And don’t let it out that I did one for you.” Carmia began filling a small sack with vegetables and apples. “I trust your trouble won’t follow you here.”

That was the risk he had not wanted to take. “If anyone asks about me, don’t try to lie. You can’t hide that I was here, but you don’t know where I’m going.” He kept his voice low. “I want to you consider moving to Kvatch this winter. Faustino’s already a hunter; he’ll thrive wherever you put him. It’s Lavina I’m thinking about. How old is she now, eight? She’s grown up wild out here, and free. But there’s a cost to that, too. I know why you made the choices you did, but now it doesn’t have to be that way. In Kvatch you can live inside city walls, and no one will care who you used to be. We lost all of our children, Carmia. Every one of them. Lavina would have a chance to be anyone she can be. Out here she won’t have many options, and you have to split the coins you get too many ways. You turned away from your old life, how are you going to feel when Lavina finds out the easiest way to earn is on her back? Matilene was hardly more than a kid when she tried to stick her hand down my drawers. And I guess you know the next fellow didn’t turn her down.”

“You’re one to judge Matilene. She’s taken plenty of drakes from you over the years.” Carmia shoved the filled sack against his middle hard enough to make him wince.

“Only after we were both old enough. I’m the last one to judge her, but you know most of her earnings go to drink. How much of that is so she can stand to smell the next stranger? I’m asking you if that’s what you want for your daughter.” Jerric made a show of handing something back to Carmia. She took the imaginary coins from his empty hand.

“City walls are a cage, Jerric. Lavina’s not yours, stay out of it.”

“I know she’s not, Carmia. Just like I know some day I’ll walk down here and see her looking at me with those hard eyes, just like the others. I’ve said more than you wanted to hear, but I’m not sorry.” He raised the sack of food. “Thank you for this, I won’t forget it.” He started up the path toward the road.

“Jerric!” Carmia called after him. He turned around at looked at her. “You’re not wrong,” she said. “I’ll think about it.”

Jerric nodded. He collected Flash and Martin, and they left the camp.

___

The chapel bells rang four of the morning watch as Jerric jogged toward the Skingrad Mages Guild. Julianos, he thought. I’m sure I’m a stranger to you. He slipped quietly through the silent hall to the second floor living quarters. The central lounge was empty, but still lit by candles. Vigge’s door stood open, as did Erthor’s. Not a good sign, Jerric thought. He listened at Sulinus’ door and heard snoring. He listened at Adrienne’s door and heard nothing. Vigge’s most likely to be in there with Adrienne, he decided. Or maybe not, as he remembered the bathing room incident. He knocked softly on Adrienne’s door, then again louder. He opened it a crack. The room appeared to be dark. He opened the door wider and called out. “Apologies. It’s Jerric.” He pushed the door all the way open, and light from the lounge fell across the floor.

Adrienne slid down from the bed and strode to the door. Her blonde hair lay over her shoulder in a neat braid, and her bare feet made no sound on the thick rug. Bretons, Jerric thought. Put her in a nightgown, and even this frightening harpy looks sweetly pretty. “I trust you have a good reason for waking me?” she demanded.

Adrienne’s tone matched her expression in its severity. So much for appearances, thought Jerric. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Guild Master,” he said respectfully. “I’m looking for Vigge.”

“Vigge has gone to Kvatch,” she snapped. “Are you a member of the Guard now, Associate? I trust you didn’t steal that.” She indicated the wolf on his chest.

“No. It belonged to Captain Matius, he gave it to me. Steward Matius.” How did we miss Vigge on the road, Jerric wondered. Must have passed while we were at Gnoll’s Meeting. Get to the point. “Look, I need my sword recharged, and I can’t wait. I don’t even have enough coin to cover what it will cost. I know it’s not your problem. I’m asking you to help me.” Puppy dog eyes won’t work on this one, he thought. She probably eats puppies.

“I’m sure you don’t expect me to perform this task for you. You’ll find soul gems in the cabinet in Vigge’s workroom.” Jerric stood stunned while she glared up at him. “Well?”

“Nothing. Thank you.” Jerric retreated before she changed her mind or remembered she hadn’t mentioned payment.

Vigge’s cabinet contained baskets spilling over with soul gems, unmarked and disorganized. He glanced over at the door that he guessed Druja slept behind. No, he decided. I can figure this out myself. He held Chillrend in one hand and picked up a soul gem in the other. Like alchemy, he thought. Probably. He gingerly sent his magicka into the gem and discovered that it hummed with energy. Startled, he almost dropped it. He gave the gem a nudge with his will, and the energy buzzed through him on the way into Chillrend. He felt the gem crumble in his hand. The dust sifted away to nothing before it hit the floor. Huh, he thought. That felt kind of nice.

He picked up another gem and tested it. This one felt less powerful. Then he had an idea. He sent his magicka into Chillrend this time, and he was shocked at how much he learned. He had an instant sense of the sword’s power, the nature of its enchantment, and how much energy was left inside it. He even felt the void that could still be filled with magicka. He picked through the soul gems until he found one that closely matched Chillrend’s emptiness. Another nudge, and power thrilled through him again. Vigge has an excellent job, Jerric decided. He pocketed a handful of gems and headed for the door.

He spun around on the threshold and strode back to the kitchen before he could start feeling guilty. It’s for the Empire, he told himself. Cook will forgive me. He filled a bag and left, crunching on an apple.

[mALX]

I tried not to spam your thread with quotes, but could not help it on these two chapters.


All the interchanges between Jerric and the Kvatch residents were so natural, absolutley perfect blend of the comfortableness of people who have known each other all their lives - and the trauma and loss they just endured. All of them could have been quoted for examples - but this one was my favorite:

“Sigrid did, with the stone you brought back from inside that Gate. Look at the scabbard and figure it out.” She turned it in his hands.

“Atronach’s Redeemer. What, does this sword absorb magicka?” he asked, astonished.

The smith clapped him on the shoulder, and he staggered half a step. “You’re not as dumb as you look. She told me what to write.”

“Batul, I could kiss you. I can’t pay you for all of this.”

She barked a short laugh, probably the first heard in the encampment. “Go kiss Sigrid, you know you want to. Lion of Kvatch.” He gave her a quizzical look. “That’s what they’re calling you. On account of your crazy heroics. Or because you don’t know how to use a comb, one or the other.” She stepped back and looked him over again. Appraising her work, he decided. “You closed the Gate, and I got my tools back. Let’s call this one even. I’ll charge you next time, though, you can count on it.”

“Thank you, Batul.” This time the smile came more easily. “I mean for not eating my horse.” Jerric headed down the road toward Flash.

“Ha!” she called after him. “You’re just lucky we didn’t have any onions.”

This scene was a perfect ending to the Kvatch crisis:

Jerric took her hand and squeezed it for a moment. “Until then.” He clucked his tongue to Flash, and the two of them started down the road to meet Martin.

Sort of like the lone wanderer and dogmeat leaving the wasteland at the end of Fallout 3, lol. AWESOME !!!


***

I love this (snipped) - what a perfect line !! :

Young Rilian told your tale to everyone ...That lad could be a bard.”

This has to be the best answer I've seen yet anywhere to answer the question, "Hey, aren't you the one they call the 'Hero of Kvatch'?" :

The city was destroyed, no one saved it,” Jerric told him. He saw Faustino’s face fall, and he realized that they needed to believe in a hero. This isn’t about you, he told himself. He looked around at the other folk who were crowding him. “Savlian Matius is the Hero of Kvatch. Almost everyone that’s left alive, he got out of the city. He discovered that the Gate could be closed, and he led the fight that drove out the daedra. Savlian Matius serves the people now as Steward of the city.” Jerric took a breath. “Berich Inian is the Hero of Kvatch. He leads the City Guard now as Captain. Menien Goneld. Ilend Vonius. Many brave folk went in to close that Gate, and most of them were lost in the Deadlands. Those are the names of your heroes. They kept the daedra from your homes. Now there’s work to be done in Kvatch, and opportunity for those with the strong backs and stomachs to do it.” Martin stood beside Flash while Jerric made his speech, and Jerric could not read his expression. “They need food and supplies,” he continued. “In these times you don’t need to wield a sword to be a hero.”

AWESOME !!!


This had me stunned breathless and speechless :

“I want to you consider moving to Kvatch this winter. Faustino’s already a hunter; he’ll thrive wherever you put him. It’s Lavina I’m thinking about. How old is she now, eight? She’s grown up wild out here, and free. But there’s a cost to that, too. I know why you made the choices you did, but now it doesn’t have to be that way. In Kvatch you can live inside city walls, and no one will care who you used to be. We lost all of our children, Carmia. Every one of them. Lavina would have a chance to be anyone she can be. Out here she won’t have many options, and you have to split the coins you get too many ways. You turned away from your old life, how are you going to feel when Lavina finds out the easiest way to earn is on her back? Matilene was hardly more than a kid when she tried to stick her hand down my drawers. And I guess you know the next fellow didn’t turn her down.”

“You’re one to judge Matilene. She’s taken plenty of drakes from you over the years.” Carmia shoved the filled sack against his middle hard enough to make him wince.

“Only after we were both old enough. I’m the last one to judge her, but you know most of her earnings go to drink. How much of that is so she can stand to smell the next stranger? I’m asking you if that’s what you want for your daughter.” Jerric made a show of handing something back to Carmia. She took the imaginary coins from his empty hand.

*****

Puppy dog eyes won’t work on this one, he thought. She probably eats puppies.

BWAAAHAAA !!!!


*****

The whole end of the chapter where Jerric learns how to recharge his weapons was incredible !!!


You have made Jerric feel like a living, breathing person we may know personally. Everytime I read your story I am struck by what a tremendously creative imagination you have; a huge ability to weave characters that are believable and memorable...and the skill and talent to form words that paint mental images in the readers mind.

AWESOME WRITE !!!! (as always !!!)

[SubRosa]

Ahh, time for a big bowl of grits for lunch!

Flatbread around some kind of meat.
Since Flash is still alive, we can guess that it is not horse. Still, there was a lot of two-legged meat that got cooked recently in Kvatch...

The city was destroyed, no one saved it,
This is something I always think when someone calls me the Hero of Kvatch in the game.

Now we see the payoff for your introduction of Gnoll's Meeting Camp. Not only a friendly stop for Jerric to gather supplies, but perhaps a jumping-off point for some people to help rebuild Kvatch? Jerric's speech was wonderful, pointing out all the heroes that helped mitigate the disaster at Kvatch, and who are still needed to put things right again.

Even better is his conversation with Carmia about her daughter. All truth there, and ugly truth at that.

Finally, a wonderful description of using soul gems to charge Chillrend.

Forgot to mention:
Darnand would point out that if Jerric was a natural alchemist like Teresa, surely he would find a way to make himself smell better.
It is not that he is not capable of it. Jerric is a man, so he has no desire to smell better. Or comb his hair, etc...

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Feb 24 2011, 01:45 AM

[Acadian]

'Jerric set a pace that had Martin trotting every few steps to keep up. '
What a delightful little nod to the game and exactly how followers tag along.

'Savlian Matius is the Hero of Kvatch.'
I have said, ever since meeting him at Kvatch, that when it comes to a noble selfless hero, he is the gritty real deal.

The whole scene with Carmia was powerful, poignant and very well-written.

Adrienne is one scary puppy-eating Breton! Wow. What a neat job you did with her.

And finally, Jerric discovers Vigge's whole little basket of sex toys soul gems and how nice they can make one feel.

[Zalphon]

I'm inclined to agree with Acadian about Salvian

[Captain Hammer]

So a quick stop in Skingrad, and we learn so much.

Others have commented on Jerric's attitude when he meets people following Kvatch.

What I found really interesting was Jerric's actions at the Skingrad Guildhall. His process of charging Chillrend and loading up on soulgems, his thoughts about taking an apple from the kitchen, and his dialogue with Adrienne (not to mention his thoughts about the sleeping arrangements) make it a great installment.

[Grits]

mALX: I appreciate your comments so much!! It helps me to learn which parts stand out for you. You are so encouraging!!! Jerric definitely went on a few little rants at Gnoll’s Meeting. Since he has been such an enthusiastic patron of brothels, I thought he should speak up about the darker aspects of the profession. Your kind words made my day, mALX!!

SubRosa: Two-legged meat !! Your comment inspired a remark that you will find in the section after this one!! You’re right about Gnoll’s Meeting. Who better to rebuild than those who have already scratched something out of nothing. Blurting out that the city was destroyed and then making his speech to change what he said was an important moment for Jerric, I’m glad you pointed it out. As was what he said to Carmia, he needed to acknowledge that it’s not all fun and games for the working girl. Thank you for your insightful comments, SubRosa!

Acadian: We’ve had a lot of where is Martin moments in the West Weald. Most memorably they passed too near Shardrock and got mixed up with the bears. Jerric killed one and got away, then he couldn’t find Martin. Kept getting the message that he’s unconscious. Eventually he had to go to the nearby shrine and keep fast travelling there until he caught Martin in a brief moment of consciousness. That episode didn’t quite make it into the story!!

The Carmia scene meant a lot to me, I’m glad to hear it came across well. I’m so glad you enjoyed Adrienne. I figure anyone who can lose one quarter of her employees is either very distracted or has a screw loose. Maybe both. And if Vigge has to play with little buzzing stones all day, who can blame him for… no, that’s still no excuse for his behavior. Thank you, Acadian!

Zalphon: Me too, Zalphon!

Captain Hammer: The late night visit to the Skingrad Mages Guild was a little like riding along in Jerric’s mind, and I was worried that I put too much Jerric-thought in it. You’ve eased my mind. He really started waking up when he got to Skingrad, and I wanted to show it. Thank you, Captain Hammer!



Chapter 8: Running, Part 2

Jerric, Martin, and Flash walked north through a rocky meadow valley. Sparse woodland lay behind and to the west, and denser forest rose up to the east. Flash snatched mouthfuls of grass as they went. The land had started to rise and fall in small hills under them. Their pace had slowed to accommodate the terrain. Tall trees blocked their view of the distant highlands, but Jerric had complete confidence in his sense of direction outdoors. As many times as they cut left or right to avoid the steepest hollows, he easily got them going straight again. No matter where they came out on the Black Road, he thought Weynon Priory should be easy to find.

Ferns and calf-high grasses swished against Jerric’s legs. A high breeze sifted through the treetops in the adjacent woods. They sounded as if they could speak to one another. The afternoon light made jewels of the late summer flowers peeking through the golden meadow grass. Jerric knew he should be drinking in the peace, but he wasn’t. Lack of sleep or decent food had worn down his nerves. He had to keep his mind from drifting back to Kvatch, and it wanted to go there the way a tongue can’t help testing a sore tooth. He needed to feel that clear sense of purpose again. Instead he felt irritable. He looked over at the source of his annoyance.

Martin looked down at his feet as they walked. His shoulders slumped, and he moved as if his pack was filled with stones. This sad little man is my emperor, thought Jerric. He has to lead us into war. Enough of this. “Tired?” Jerric asked him. “Hungry? What’s the problem, Martin?” He let anger give his voice a hard edge.

Martin shook his head. “Kvatch,” he said morosely. His voice sounded heavy with regret. “I wish I had never gone there. I brought destruction down on them.” He sighed. “I blame myself.”

“I blame you, too,” Jerric shot back. Martin looked over at him, startled. Jerric returned his stare until he saw an answering anger in Martin. “That’s right. It’s unfair. This has nothing to do with who you are. It’s what you are. So you can try to hide from it, or do what you need to do. Are you going to keep hiding?”

Martin drew himself up. He looked extremely affronted. “Of course not.”

“Good. You said you’d left the priest behind, but you need to leave the rest of it, too. These are your last days as just Martin. You need to do what it takes so you’ll be ready for what’s coming. When the people look to you, they’ll want to see an emperor.” Jerric watched Martin as they walked. I hope I know what I’m doing, he thought. He was surprised to feel his annoyance receding.

“You’re right,” Martin said, finally. He lifted his head and looked out over the meadow. “Dwelling on the past will not advance our cause. I must view it as self-indulgence, for it serves no other purpose. It is time I looked to the future.”

Flash snorted and stopped in his tracks. Unease tickled the back of Jerric’s neck. “Or maybe the right now,” he said. He gestured for Flash to wait, but the horse was not moving forward. “There’s something…” Jerric loosened Chillrend and slipped his shield over his arm. He moved forward cautiously, looking to the right into the woods. They were on the edge of a darker, denser part of the forest. Jerric had hoped to escape the predators from both the meadows and the forest by staying along the border, but now he thought he might have exposed them to both kinds. Jerric heard brush cracking to pieces in the woods. The ground began to shake with the thunder of something heavy galloping at them. “Martin, run!” Chillrend rang joyously in his hand, but his gut clenched with alarm. He saw the dark shape, and a grunting roar confirmed it. “Bear!” he shouted.

He stumbled over the uneven ground as he ran toward the menace. The ferns concealed fallen logs that tripped his feet. He held his shield arm out for balance and brought Chillrend up. The bear looked like a black mountain bearing down on him, and its open maw was a fanged cave. I should try to scare it, Jerric thought. He called up his fire spell and cast it at the charging beast. The flare hissed against the fur along its side. The bear lowered its head away from the flames, but it didn’t slow down. Jerric stepped and slashed at its burned shoulder as it stormed past him. Pale fat peeled open over raw muscle under his newly sharpened blade. He was impressed for a fleeting instant until his heels hit something hard. The bear thundered to a halt and turned around, bawling out its pain and fury. Jerric saw treetops and sky as he toppled over onto his back. His elbows slipped on the crushed ferns, but his feet found the log that had tripped him. Pushing against it got him nowhere. The bear reared up over the log, spittle frothing out in ropes. Blue light flashed, and Jerric sent his fire spell crackling over the bear again. The bear let its breath out in a deafening roar. Jerric rolled frantically to the side as it bulk crashed down onto him. He heard a dry snap like wood breaking. Pain blocked out the rest of the world for a moment, until he realized the bear was on him. The stench of burned hair filled Jerric’s mouth and nose. His mind screamed with panic over its labored grunting. Then the bear flashed blue and was gone. Martin stood in its place.

Jerric looked down and saw that his knee was somehow facing the wrong way. He realized that he was shouting. “Aaaah, my mother fetching leg, you skiit-sniffing coochka!” he howled. Martin had begun to reach for him, but he drew back, his face full of alarm. “Not you, the bear! Dammit, pull it straight!” Jerric heard a rippling laugh, and his stomach lurched with more than pain. “Spriggan! Pull it, Martin!” Martin did. While Jerric screamed again, Martin healed him. Jerric stared at him for an instant in shock. Then he scrambled to his knees, searching for Chillrend. “Run, Martin!”

The spriggan’s balletic leaps made her seem to float over the ground as she approached. Jerric’s hand found Chillrend, then his legs launched him at the spriggan. The pain’s sudden disappearance left adrenaline surging through him. The spriggan scribed graceful arcs in the air with her arms, giggling. Before she could finish her spell, Jerric had reached her. He dropped his weight behind his wolf shield and bashed her to the ground. Her legs felt hard under his, even through his armor. He raised Chillrend and chopped at her torso and neck. Chips of bark and wood flew through the air. She struggled under him, but not for long.

Jerric pushed himself to his feet, shaking. Bile rose in his throat, and he swallowed it down. He turned to look at Martin walking toward him up the small rise, through some small shrubs. He saw Flash grazing down in the meadow beyond, unperturbed. His stomach heaved up some more bitter liquid, and this time Jerric leaned to spit it out. Martin opened his mouth to speak.

A splintering crack sounded from the shrubbery behind Jerric. He saw Martin’s face change in an instant. Blue frost filled his hands, and his battle cry rang through the air. “For Akatosh!” he called with majestic fury. The air froze along Jerric’s side as the frost hurtled past him. For a moment Jerric didn’t know whether to turn and attack or kneel at Martin’s feet. He heard the shrub’s leaves softly crackling as they curled up from the frost, and he turned to look. There was no other sound or motion. Whatever it was, he thought that Martin must have killed it.

Jerric motioned for Martin to stay back. Sword at the ready, he moved behind the shrub to investigate. Then he shook his head and laughed in relief. A large rat lay curled on its side, frozen solid. “That’s one powerful frost spell,” Jerric remarked. He dropped the rat in front of Martin. It bounced a little when it hit the ground. “Here’s your kill. Dragonborn.”

Martin viewed his prize. “At least we can eat mine,” he replied. The grim sovereign was gone from his face, and a smile played around his eyes.

Jerric nudged the rat with his boot. “I guess. If we had a few days to thaw it.” He eyed Martin. “You’re not going to ask me to carry it along, are you?”

Martin gave him an arch look. “I’m not going to order you to bring it, no.” Then he laughed. “I suppose we could burn your kill and cook mine on its fire.”

They walked back down to the meadow. Jerric’s tension eased as his heart rate returned to normal. “I’m no hunter,” he admitted. “I guess it’s raw carrots and dry bread again, until something else attacks us.” He clucked his tongue to Flash and started walking. “Maybe we’ll run afoul of a murderous deer.”

“A rogue sheep would also be welcome.”

They walked in the sun for several minutes. “Martin,” Jerric said.

Martin looked across at him. “Yes, Jerric?”

“They say you have dragon blood in your veins. Do you think it’s true?”

“I think it’s true that the Septims had the dragon blood. I’ll be certain what flows through my veins when I hold the Amulet of Kings.”

“Well, I think I got a look at the dragon back there. If you’re killed before we get to the priory, do you think Jauffre will give me the Amulet of Kings? I’d light the Dragonfires for you.”

Martin looked disconcerted. “Well, Jerric, I don’t think it works that way.”

“Oh,” Jerric replied. “So the next time we’re attacked, how about if you stay behind me?” Jerric made an attempt to look stern.

“Oh, of course.” Martin looked mildly embarrassed. “I suppose I should have run when you shouted.”

“I suppose,” Jerric replied. “But thanks for killing the bear.” He dug into his daypack and passed bread and carrots to Martin. Flash nudged his back again, so he bit off chunks of carrot and handed them to Flash as they walked. Jerric decided that their argument and the following fight with the forest creatures had lightened the mood considerably.

“What do you know of the Doom Stones, Jerric?” Martin asked. His easy tone confirmed Jerric’s thoughts.

“Nothing. I don’t even know what you’re talking about. What are Doom Stones? Even if it’s a long story, I have the time to hear it.”

“Magical standing stones, they can be found throughout Cyrodiil. They are covered with runes that glow at night. Doom Stones stand in stone circles. They are named for the stars and heavenly features.”

“What do they do?”

“Nothing any more, most believe. Some think their magics are still at work, just unknown to us.”

“All right. Why are you telling me this?”

“You know how the gods watch us, and guide us with their unseen hands.”

“I’ve heard of it,” Jerric replied wryly.

“It is my theory that the Doom Stones only respond to those the gods deem worthy. I have sought out several of these stones, and had no success unraveling their mysteries.”

“Unraveling their… What did you do, exactly?”

“I went to the stones and sat within the rings. I fasted, prayed, and cast spells upon the stones. I made… offerings. Both during daylight hours and at night. Nothing.”

“But clearly you’re not unknown to the Divines.”

“I did not always follow the Nine. My deeds of renown would not cause them to smile upon me. My life since I converted and became a priest of Akatosh has been a quiet one of study and reflection. You, however, have certainly gained the attention of the gods. I wonder if you would be able to activate a Doom Stone’s magic?”

“What do you think would happen? This isn’t a good time to get struck by lightning. And you need to tell me more about these evil deeds of yours. Should I sleep with one eye open?”

“You have nothing to fear from me. Pride and hunger for power moved me in the past, and I suffered for it. People died. My friends died. But that is past.”

“So, back to the stones.”

“Yes. Some of them are named for the birthsigns, and some for the heavens. The reason is lost in the mists of time, but I believe that they were named with a purpose. Perhaps they impart powers to the supplicant, powers similar to the ones granted by the stars at our birth.”

“That’s interesting. I could use some extra powers. All right, Martin, you bring this up now because…?”

“I believe I am familiar with this area. We’re near the shrine of Sanguine. We will pass within a short distance of one of the Heaven Stones.” Martin looked over at Jerric. “The Jone Stone,” he intoned.

Jerric kept walking. “All right, let’s go see.” Martin’s eyebrows went up. “You thought it would be hard to convince me? They say curiosity killed the Khajiit, but I’m a Nord so we don’t have to worry. Lead the way. We’re going to have to limit the offerings, though. We don’t have much to give, and I’d like my blood to stay inside me.”

“I think we should reach it by nightfall.”

“So,” Jerric said a few moments later. “The shrine of Sanguine?”

“A story for another time,” replied Martin.

By the time Jerric had begun to doubt that Martin knew where he was going, he stopped them at the top of a wooded hill. Dusk shrouded the rocks and fallen logs, but a ring of tall stones below them stood out from their surroundings. These stones were a light tan color, unlike the grey outcrops that sprinkled the forest and adjacent meadows. As they drew near, Jerric saw that the area between the outer ring of stones and the central monolith was empty, blackened ground. He began to get an uneasy feeling. He gave Flash the signal to wait. Martin led him to the front of the monolith. It stood easily three times Jerric’s height. Red runes flared to life as they watched, glowing with an angry light. “Uh, Martin…” said Jerric.

He felt Martin’s hand on his back. “Step into the ring. The stars shine upon the stone, we have arrived in time to witness it.” Martin’s hand pressed against him. “Go ahead.” Jerric stepped gingerly onto the black dirt and faced the glowing stone. “Try kneeling,” Martin suggested.

“No way,” Jerric said nervously. “Any gods who’re watching would know it was a lie. I’m about to piss myself and run, not kneel. Do you think there’s going to be fire?” Martin didn’t answer. He shifted his feet and held his hands out to the stone. “All right, here I go.” The stone shuddered silently to life under his hands, but he didn’t flinch. He sent his will gently into it, the way he had with the soul gems. To his relief there was no flash of fire. Instead he had the sense that he was somehow being filled, or becoming denser. He stood for a long moment against the stone. Then he stepped back to Martin.

“Well, it was worth a try,” Martin sighed. “I thank you for your indulgence.”

Jerric stared at him. “You mean you didn’t notice anything? Something happened, Martin. I got Jone’s gift, or something. Here, I’ll try it.” Jerric held his hands out slightly to the side and felt for the new something. “It’s not a spell,” he said. “It’s a whole new part of me. I think it’s like my Woad. It’s not connected to my magicka. Stand back and watch. I’ll try it.” Jerric reached for his new power, and it slipped over and through him like it had always been there. “I feel… I have no idea. What do you think it did? Hit me, maybe it’s a shield.”

“Well,” said Martin, “You’re invisible.”

Jerric held out his hands. “Ha ha! Look at that. Invisible! And I don’t even know any illusion spells. Martin, this is outstanding! You have to try it.”

“Oh no, I don’t think I should seek anything from the gods right now, if they are even the source of this power. It is enough that you have brought me new understanding. I thank you for it.”

Martin’s reluctance made Jerric remember his unease. He hoped the new power didn’t come with a price he didn’t know about. “Well I guess we should camp near here,” he said. “No fire tonight. Let’s find a spot out on the edge of the meadow. Flash can graze, and there will be more moonlight.” He started walking away, then he remembered Martin couldn’t see him. “Invisible!” he called out. “There’s something more, too. I guess I’ll have to study on it.”

This post has been edited by Grits: Feb 27 2011, 03:43 AM