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

[haute ecole rider]

Yaaay for the pep talk! Martin certainly needed a kick in the tush to get him out of his blue funk. I noticed it worked on Jerric too, though how Jerric could kick himself in the tush is beyond me.

Loved the encounter with the bear and the spriggan. Those things are almost as bad as the will o'wisps! I never know if that damned bear charging me is a real one, or just one of those beeyoches' summons. Sometimes I hear that annoying giggle, other times the first thing I hear is the whoosh of the spell. Sometimes nothing at all, just that black mountain of fur coming at me!

And I loved the discussion of the Doom Stones. It felt pretty true to what little we have about them in the Lore. Though most of it are just hearsay, and not really contemporaneous accounts, but still . . .

S'more!

[SubRosa]

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.
This was a wonderful metaphor.

Poor Jerric! I know what it feels like to dislocate a knee. I did it myself years ago, and had to pop it back in place myself. The pain was indescribable. My leg has never been the same since.

A rousing battle with the spriggan and her black bear! I see not everyone has the luck of Teresa, who would have petted one and probably watered the other!

They say curiosity killed the Khajiit, but I’m a Nord so we don’t have to worry.
But satisfaction brought the Khajiit back! Nords are not quite so fortunate however...

Finally, I loved Jerric's reaction to the doomstone. The ones that are surrounded by flowers and other plants all look nice and inviting. The ones that are all blasted and burned dirt always give me the heebie jeebies too!


nits:
Why is he telling me this, Jerric wondered. “Why are you telling me this?” he asked.
It seems redundant for Jerric to think it, then say it immediately. I think you can just drop the part about him thinking it.

I wonder if you would be able to activate a Doom Stone’s magic.
I think you probably want a question mark at the end, rather than a paragraph.

[ghastley]

Hey, I want some healing like that! Broken femur one minute, running at a Spriggan the next! But that's exactly what the healing magic in the game allows, so that's just the way to write it.

I'll second Haute's comment about the summoned and real bears, except that I usually kill the Spriggan and then it's panic when the bear with her doesn't disappear, because it wasn't hers.

Nice frozen rat piece. Balances the intensity of the Spriggan encounter perfectly.

[Acadian]

It's memories of wood elves!!!
'the way a tongue can’t help testing a sore tooth.'
This conjures images of the stringy redhead sticking that tongue into the spot where Vols knocked out a molar.
'I hope I know what I’m doing'
This, on the other hand could apply to quite a few of the decisions made by another wood elf - a scrawny blonde.

Ok, sorry. Couldn't resist. ^

The pep talk and bear/sprig encounter were magnificent. Martin got the pep talk that he understandably needed. He also got a chance to show his grit. More charge in and kill 'em by Jerric. I'm glad you paused their trek to bring us this scene. It blended heart pounding action with rich character development. Fabulous touch with the iced rat cube.

[mALX]

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.

I am in awe of how you come up with these perfect injections !! You have made an amazing character in Jerric; everything we know about these quests becomes secondary, a backdrop to your story !! Your ability is extraordinary !!!

[Jacki Dice]

the way a tongue can’t help testing a sore tooth

Oh my this is so true! ...stupid wisdom tooth....

“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?”

His anger is so true. Its so natural to want to pin it on someone, whether its fair or not

They say curiosity killed the Khajiit, but I’m a Nord so we don’t have to worry.

This made me laugh! A certain other Nord felt the same way, and now look at his mess!

[Grits]

haute ecole rider: He’s very flexible. The doomstone part was a little tricky, because Martin had to get it a little wrong with the renown points. Reading the lore and then figuring out what an undereducated Nord would know has been fun. Especially since he has eclectic reading habits. Glad you liked it!!

SubRosa: Dislocated knee, yikes! Yeah, that’s the kind of pain that removes all other immediate concerns. I had a hip situation occur, but I didn’t have to see it go back in. Just heard it. No yoga for me. But hey, now we know when a storm is coming. If Jerric ‘watered’ the spriggan, it would sure keep the deer away from her! Thank you for the nits, I changed them. Glad you liked the doomstone part. I had never seen a scary one until the Jone stone.

ghastly: That’s exactly how it was for Jerric. Gaaaaaah oh I’m all right now. The superfast healing was a touch of Martin Septim badassery, Jerric couldn’t have pulled it off. Yep, the dead spriggan victory dance cut short by a real bear. Bears are scary, especially when they roar in surround sound right behind my ear. Glad you liked the frozen rat.

Acadian: Oh my gosh you’re right, it’s the wood elf tribute episode!!! As I recall, another Bosmer also recently encountered a bear. And a fourth is presently in Chorrol which is near where… well, that connection is a little thin. I actually did check to make sure I didn’t write ‘what we’re doing.’ The doomstone side trip is due to Buffy’s influence, by the way. I never bothered to figure them out before. Thank you, Acadian!

mALX: I could not write anything for Jerric and Martin until they had that little spat. They ran all over the Imperial Reserve in the game, and nothing. No rapport at all. I was really stumped for awhile! I thought, oh great, my main character hates Martin. Is it too late to abandon the MQ?! I have a bunch of non-quest stuff coming up in a little while. I enjoyed Maxical’s extended stay in the Bloodworks so much, it inspired me to go ahead and make stuff up!! Thank you so much, mALX!!

Jacki Dice: Wisdom teeth, ugh! That quote was the turning point for Jerric and Martin, thanks for pointing it out. It took me forever to figure out what the problem was. I’d better keep Jerric away from Niben Bay! I’m off to save the world… oh look, a door. I really shouldn’t go in there. Oh hey, butterflies.




Chapter 8: Running, Part 3

Abiene stood in the guild hall library, bored nearly senseless. Her student was late, and Marc Gulitte had her cornered. His impromptu lecture on destruction magic held no interest for her. Neither did he. Marc paused to take a breath. A commotion from downstairs reached them, even through the closed door. Abiene bolted for the stairs without excusing herself from Marc’s company. Days of waiting for news from Kvatch had frayed her nerves. Every time the front door opened, it made her jump. She had held on tightly to her hope. Now she was afraid to lose even that.

Darnand and Felen had returned from Kvatch, and the other mages were mobbing them for news. Her eyes searched behind them for Jerric’s broad frame. Now I’ll know, she thought. Her stomach clenched with fear. “Settle,” Carahil said from her office doorway. Her quiet voice commanded attention. “Felen and Darnand, do you need a moment to refresh yourselves? We will gather in the dining room. No, let them pass. We shall all listen to the news together.”

The travelers dropped their packs and went straight to the dining room. Felen began as soon as they had assembled. “Of our guild’s Kvatch chapter, Sigrid alone survived. She will remain in Kvatch.” He held his hand up to silence the burst of chatter. “Vigge the Cautious from Skingrad has joined Sigrid, as has our own Glafeviel. The Kvatch guild hall is a tent, but they are operating. Feather and healing magic are in greatest demand. They can use all of the alchemy supplies we send them.” Felen paused. Abiene felt her heart pounding in her throat. “The Lion of Kvatch is Jerric,” he announced. “We did not see him ourselves. Sigrid spoke to him after the battle. He has left Kvatch, his destination unknown. We made a list of the survivors who are living in the encampment, as well as those who departed but are known to have survived. Here, Carahil.” Felen handed over the parchment.

Chaos broke out again as everyone wanted to see the list, but Carahil’s stern gaze quieted them. “Peace,” she said. “There are too many of us who want to look and too few names on this list. I shall read them out. We have held on to hope, but soon we may be grieving. Please allow me to finish.”

Abiene leaned back against the stone archway, arms wrapped around herself to still her shaking. She had already accepted Kvatch as lost, and Sigrid’s survival seemed almost odd to her. She watched Darnand slip out the dining room door. I’ll give him a little time, she decided. Then she closed her eyes and let the tears come. Jerric is alive, she thought. Somewhere, he’s alive. The depth of her relief showed her just how frightened she had been.

She felt a hand on her arm and opened her eyes again. Thaurron stood before her, face broken with grief. Her heart went out to him, and she held him as he sobbed against her shoulder. When he calms, I’ll look for Darnand, she decided. She watched her own tears fall onto Thaurron’s shoulder.

It was more than an hour later when Abiene found Darnand in the library. He sat gripping a quill pen, hunched over piles of parchment. His damp hair still held the marks of his comb. As she watched, a curl fell over his forehead. I wonder what he’s working on, she thought. Maybe notes from his trip. She stepped over to his table, standing in front of the window’s light. Her fingers wanted to reach out and smooth his hair. After a moment, he glanced up in irritation. Her stomach dropped. Then the polite mask slipped over his expression, like she’d seen when he spoke to other people. It hurt to see it on his face when he looked at her. “Yes?” he asked. His voice sounded neutral, at best.

“Never mind,” she said hastily. “You’re busy, it can wait.”

His eyes were back on his work before she finished speaking. She walked back to the stairs, flushed with embarrassment. She felt a surge of annoyance for giving him this kind of influence over her mood. I guess that’s why it’s called a crush, she told herself ruefully. As she reached for the door handle, Darnand spoke. “Abiene.” She saw he was really looking at her this time. “Apologies. Are you free after dinner this evening? I would like to walk with you. We could speak then.”

She tried to keep her expression cool, but it was hopeless. “Yes, that would be nice,” she said with a smile. “After dinner, I’ll see you then.”

___

Jerric and Martin stood looking down at the dead boar. The struggle had left the grass trampled and bloody, but he had killed the boar without burning or freezing it. Martin put out his hand and slapped Jerric’s arm. “This is much better than the last thing you killed,” Martin told him.

“You didn’t want charred troll for dinner? It might have been better than the wolf we ate last night.” Jerric heaved the boar onto a slanted rock so that Martin could hold it up. The rock supported most of the weight.

“The wolf was tough and dry, that is true. Your cooking skills were not at fault,” Martin added quickly. “I confess, I would be reluctant to dine upon something that goes about on two legs.” Martin held the boar’s hind feet while Jerric gutted it. He turned his face away, Jerric guessed from the smell.

“Two legs and two fists, I’d say. Anyway, troll fat is bad for you. I doubt troll meat is any better.” Jerric moved the carcass to the ground, away from the slippery pile of guts. He knelt and began turning the body into meat with his knife. “Cook it here, or wait? We might not find a safe campsite.”

Martin broke off some ferns to wrap the meat. “Let’s cook some here and eat it, then look for a safe site tonight. Perhaps we shall have two meals today.”

“All right.” Jerric leaned his head back to get some clean air. “Let’s do the rest of the potatoes while we’re at it. If you watch the pot, I’ll go gather us some greens. And maybe some mushrooms. We can let Flash graze while he waits.” Jerric smiled down at the carcass. “I’m sure glad this fellow tried to kill us.”

By nightfall Jerric had found a sheltered place to camp, and they decided to risk a small fire. Even if someone smelled the smoke, they wouldn't be able to easily see it. They had dined on fatty meat cut from the boar’s belly and fried in Jerric’s pan. Now Martin cleaned the skillet with dry grass while Jerric mixed up some potions. They sat companionably on opposite sides of the fire. The pines sighed above them in the light wind. Jerric thought how easy it was to pretend they were just out camping. The sounds of the fire and his pestle grinding flax seeds and mushroom caps could take him to almost any night in the last decade or so.

A piece of wood snapped in the fire, sending up a glittering veil of sparks. Martin spoke. "Do you remember the day I met you, when your mother first brought you to the chapel for lessons? You were at that gangly age, all legs and feet.”

Jerric looked across at Martin. His hands didn’t need his attention to finish their work. “I was eleven.” Tonight he didn’t mind thinking about home as it used to be. “She made me learn to heal myself before she let me go out with the caravan. Then I helped the cook for years while I trained before they let me carry a blade.”

“I had just come to Kvatch when we met. That was a dark time for me, Jerric. The deeds you asked me about.” Martin tossed the grass into the fire and pulled up a clean bundle. “When she went back out the door, the sun shone through and lit you up like a torch. Look at this boy, I thought. Unspoiled, and full of promise. See how the sun loves him.” Brother Martin looked at him intently. “Jerric, this might sound strange.”

Jerric made his hands still and gave Martin his attention. “All right. I’m listening.”

“When you came to speak to me at the fire in the encampment, of course I knew who you were. But more than that, when you walked up I remembered that moment. I had tended you as you slept after the battle, and I helped Oleta with your healing. But I didn’t remember that day until you came to speak to me.”

The hairs stood up on Jerric’s neck. “Go on,” he said.

“I am afraid my words will be disquieting. You told me you know we are both part of a plan. Perhaps you wonder why it was so easy to convince me. I believe that day in the chapel you were pointed out to me. Singled out for what was to come.”

Chills ran over Jerric’s skin. He thought for a moment. “Maybe you can help me understand something your father said to me. The Emperor. He said ‘In your face I behold the sun’s companion. The dawn of Akatosh’s bright glory may banish the coming darkness.’ That was right before he died. The Dragonfires are out, right? So the darkness he spoke of is now. We’re in the darkness.” Jerric scratched his hands through his hair. “He said the dawn of Akatosh’s glory. The sun brings dawn. Did he mean Akatosh is the sun? And now you tell me the sun pointed to me the first time my feet hit the floor inside Akatosh’s chapel. You’re right. I feel like a puppet.”

Martin rubbed his chin, the grass in his hands apparently forgotten. “The Emperor saw you as the sun’s companion. What do you think that means?”

Jerric picked up his mortar and pestle again. “Well right now I’m your companion. I guess you have some work to do if you’re supposed to be the sun.” He ground the seeds some more. Almost ready for the water, he noticed. “What do the Dragonfires do, exactly?”

“They keep a magical barrier between Mundus and the planes of Oblivion.”

“So the Oblivion Gate couldn’t be opened until the Dragonfires were out. That’s why they came for you, it has to be. So they could keep the Dragonfires from being lit again. Kvatch wasn’t the whole plan. We may be in the darkness, but there’s more coming.” Jerric was surprised that the idea didn’t carry fear with it. Only a sense of knowing. “I’d better not wear the Kvatch Wolf until you’re safe. At least not the surcoat.” He dipped a fingertip into the mush to test it. “What did you say I was, unspoiled? Ha! How long did you hold on to that idea?”

Martin smiled absently. Jerric guessed that he was one who could talk and think at the same time. “At least a few moments. I've always wondered what kind of trouble you might have caused with that frost spell I wasn’t supposed to teach you."

"That frost is still my favorite spell, I can throw it harder and faster than anything else. Back then I tried to freeze my nephew's bath water, but it didn't work. We're almost the same age. There are always pranks in the making with my family. Where’s your family, are they safe?"

“My parents were older when I came to them, and they have both been gone for many years. We lived on a farm near Chorrol until I was grown. I was told that my natural mother died in childbed.” Martin stirred the fire. “I don’t tell you this as a priest, but as a son myself. Your mother often spoke to Akatosh on your behalf.”

"I was a terror," Jerric admitted. "I'm sure I used up all the grace she might have gained for me. My family was my life. I’m sorry you’ve gone so long without yours, Martin.”

Martin was silent for a moment, then he spoke again. "What are you going to do after this? Do you have any place to go after Weynon Priory?"

"I haven't thought much about it. I have friends in Anvil. Mages Guild. Or my Fa's partner, he'll give me work. I don't know."

"Have you ever thought of attending the Arcane University?"

Jerric snorted. “School didn’t work for me, I left when I was twelve. My penmanship was awful, and my writing worse. I remember an essay we had to write about a trip we took to Trumbe, do you know that place? I was thinking how the arches rose up like the mountains, and the low buildings must have spread out like the sea. Looking up at the heights from the solid ground reminded me that we can’t change the lot we have been given, but we can hope to rise above it. I wondered if the beings who could think up such a place had the cruelty it must have taken to build it. Maybe they had slaves who were willing to do the dirty work for them, against their own kind. Then when I tried to write, all that came out was ‘White stones are old,’ and I forgot if ‘stones’ has an E in it, and four words filled up half of the parchment. It was humiliating.” Jerric was surprised at how bitter the memory still tasted. “Besides, there’s far too much sitting still.”

"You have half a dozen books in your pack. Your books probably weigh more than our food supply. Are they for trade?"

"No, they're mine," said Jerric. "I just haven't felt like reading since... Anyway, they’re just for fun."

"What do you mean?" asked Martin.

"It's reading what I want to know, not some assignment." Jerric searched for an explanation. "It's like pleasing yourself with a book." Martin's eyebrows went up, and Jerric felt his cheeks burn. "No, that’s not what I meant. Apologies, Martin."

"I wasn't born a priest, Jerric," Martin remarked.

Jerric poured some water into the mortar and swirled it around. The last of the water went down his throat, then he held the empty water bag and looked at it. “This one has Jerric’s Juice,” he said to himself, out loud. “Remember.” He started slowly pouring the gloppy liquid into the water bag’s mouth.

“Is that a potion?” asked Martin. “Jerric Juice?”

“Jerric’s Juice,” Jerric corrected him. “Yes. It restores my magicka. Sign of the Atronach. I’m out of bottles, I should have grabbed some in Skingrad.”

“Oh,” Martin said. He sounded genuinely interested. “Is it supposed to be so… lumpy?”

“Are you an alchemist?”

“Not at all,” said Martin.

“Then yes, it’s supposed to be very lumpy.” Jerric tipped up the mortar and drank the last of the gritty solution. The magicka that bloomed inside him brought a familiar comfort. “Where did you learn that frost, Martin? I don’t suppose they teach that at priest school.”

“I began my study with the Mages Guild.” Martin stared into the fire. “I left the guild when I was an apprentice.”

Jerric could tell that subject was closed. He finished putting away his equipment. “I think I’m ready for sleep,” he said.

“You have given me some things to ponder,” Martin replied. “I will stay awake a little longer. If you dream, do you want me to wake you?”

“No. I might get a little more this time, if I dream.” He rolled himself into his blanket. “Maybe if I don’t wake up, it will stop. It’s the same every time. I don’t think it’s just remembering.” He closed his eyes. “Sorry if I disturb you, Martin.”

This post has been edited by Grits: Mar 1 2011, 05:20 PM

[SubRosa]

Home for lunch, and just in time for a bowl of Grits!

Poor Abiene, trapped by Marc Gillette and one of his lectures on shaving!

So Vigge has gone to Kvatch? I wonder what the sleeping arrangements are like there? One thing is for certain, everyone visiting the Skingrad chapter will be breathing a sigh of relief!

And Abiene cannot decide who she wants, Darnand or Jerric? Well, she could not have picked two more polar opposites that is for certain! What about Vidkun though? She seems to have completely forgotten about him.

So the hobbits are cooking dinner in the wilderness. I half-expected Jerric to pull out his box of spices from the Shire to season the boar!

A piece of wood snapped in the fire, sending up a glittering veil of sparks.
This was a wonderful line of description, that really sets the scene.

I guess you have some work to do if you’re supposed to be the sun.
Unless he is the son, as Julian has pondered in an alternate reality.

"It's like pleasing yourself with a book."
It seems The Lusty Argonian Maid is at the top of Jerric's reading list!

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Mar 1 2011, 10:26 PM

[haute ecole rider]

This was a wonderful male bonding moment. I really enjoyed the reminiscing that the two men shared - it made them more real and less cardboard.

I wonder how Vigge and Sigrid are getting along? Somehow I don't see our Sigrid letting dear old Vigge getting away with the antics he pulled in Skingrad!

The scene in the Anvil Mages Guild when Carahil read off the names of the survivors really brought home the devastation that was Kvatch. It makes me think of the people crowding around the telegraph offices after every Civil War battle, searching for names of loved ones on the list of dead and wounded.

[ghastley]

“Are you an alchemist?”

“Not at all,” said Martin.

“Then yes, it’s supposed to be very lumpy.”

Loved this bit.

[mALX]

“Vigge the Cautious from Skingrad has joined Sigrid,

SPEW!!! OMG, ROFL !!!! Poor Sigrid, I foresee deflated breasties when next we spot her.

She had already accepted Kvatch as lost, and Sigrid’s survival seemed almost odd to her.

Sigrid will always float to the surface !!!

When she went back out the door, the sun shone through and lit you up like a torch ... See how the sun loves him.”

“When you came to speak to me at the fire in the encampment, ... I remembered that moment. I had tended you ... But I didn’t remember that day until you came to speak to me.”

The hairs stood up on Jerric’s neck.

You told me you know we are both part of a plan ... why it was so easy to convince me...that day in the chapel you were pointed out to me. Singled out for what was to come.”

Chills ran over Jerric’s skin. ‘In your face I behold the sun’s companion. The dawn of Akatosh’s bright glory may banish the coming darkness.’ That was right before he died. The Dragonfires are out, right? So the darkness he spoke of is now. We’re in the darkness.”

“The Emperor saw you as the sun’s companion.

"Well right now I’m your companion.

they came for you, ... So they could keep the Dragonfires from being lit again. Kvatch wasn’t the whole plan. We may be in the darkness, but there’s more coming.”

the idea didn’t carry fear with it. Only a sense of knowing

Powerful, POWERFUL !!! I got chill bumps reading this whole section !!!

It's like pleasing yourself with a book."

ROFL !!! You must have set that line in there specifically for Foxy and me to stumble across and spew - I was laughing before I even saw the end of that line and Martin's reaction below, lol.

Martin's eyebrows went up,

- AHA !!!! So Martin and Foxy think alike !!!! Uh oh, I do see trouble now !!!

“This one has Jerric’s Juice,”


“Is that a potion?”... “Is it supposed to be so… lumpy?”

“Are you an alchemist?”

“Not at all,” said Martin.

“Then yes, it’s supposed to be very lumpy.”

ROFL !!!! What great characters you create !!!!


*

This post has been edited by mALX: Mar 1 2011, 08:44 PM

[Acadian]

I enjoyed seeing how you reflected the devastation to the Kvatch guild via the Anvil guild. I'm glad Sigrid has some company (and I hope Vigge causes no trouble). Wonderful that the Kvatch chapter is still operating, albeit from a tent.

Nice hunting/dinner scene with Martin and Jerric.

'Jerric looked across at Martin. His hands didn’t need his attention to finish their work.'
I really liked this phrasing!

[D.Foxy]

Poor Sigrid, I foresee deflated breasties when next we spot her.


... You mean....he was a bottle fed baby, too???

[Thomas Kaira]

Oh noes! I'm lost!

I've been away so long I think I've lost my place. Argh! I really need to get myself back to reading this, I'm missing out on quite a well-written tale here.

[Grits]

SubRosa: There’s a hobbit-inspired bag of salt in the story, but it won’t show up for a while yet. Abiene is definitely conflicted. Poor Vidkun, the old boyfriend left behind in Leyawiin. Unless of course he decides to take her advice and join the Mages Guild.
The thing Jerric’s really upset about losing in Kvatch is his collection of Dunmeri erotica.

haute ecole rider: I think you’re 100% right about Sigrid! Maybe we’ll have to check in on them later. Carahil’s list was inspired by such events. It is a relief to start thinking about Kvatch rebuilding.

ghastly: That was my favorite part!

mALX: Sigrid, I need your help, my ring is on the bottom of that pond. Oh, never mind. The sun’s companion thing is hard for me to figure out. What the heck was Uriel talking about?! And Martin thinking hmm, did he bring along a copy of Nord Girls Gone Wild? Thanks, mALX!!

Acadian: Kvatch is kind of taking on a life of its own, it’s been interesting. I wouldn’t worry about Sigrid, I’d guess she’s an expert in deflecting unwanted attention. I never really thought about the Kvatch to WP road trip from Martin’s perspective before this story. I guess it would be a pretty big transition for him. Thank you for noticing the Accidental Alchemist at work.

D. Foxy: Hi, Foxy!! Always nice to hear from you. I’m so glad you’re reading!

Thomas Kaira: Don’t worry, it will be here whenever you get to it! I’m glad you’re still reading.



Chapter 8: Running, Part 4

Jerric had lost track of the days, but he guessed nearly a week had passed while they walked through the wilderness. He thought it might have been a month since he headed south from the Odiils’ Farm. The trees had changed from shades of green to all the colors of fire. High on the mountainsides he could see the dark shapes of evergreen groves. Snow capped the peaks and reached pale fingers down into the shaded hollows.

The men climbed up through a bright meadow. Exertion kept them warm now, instead of heat from the sun. Jerric believed that he had steered them too far west. His thoughts were confirmed when he saw the tops of Chorrol’s crenellated city walls. “Look, Martin!” he said. “We’re almost at the road. Tonight we’ll sleep at Weynon Priory!”

Martin gave him a tired smile. “The Priory at last. I haven’t had a good night’s sleep since that terrible night.” Jerric let the comment skim over the surface of his mind and away. He had learned to keep the days for moving forward and let his grief have the nights.

Foot traffic was light on the Black Road, and they were able to pass slower travelers. When they turned onto the path to Weynon Priory, they found it empty. The massive oaks lining the road wore autumn cloaks of brilliant crimson. Acorns crunched on the stones under their feet. Tree rats filled the air with busy chatter as they raced about gathering them. “Big trees from such little things,” Jerric remarked. “There are a lot. No wonder we didn’t have any trouble from the real bears.” Martin looked at him as if he was speaking Argonian. “Acorns,” Jerric explained. “They’re not hungry. The bears.” Jerric decided that emperors might not spend much time thinking about such matters. He cleared his throat. “Priory’s just ahead,” he said.

Distant shouts and an agonized cry jolted Jerric into action. “Stay back,” he said to Martin. He started down the road at a run.

A Dunmer was dashing toward them, shouting. “Help! You must help! They’re killing everyone at Weynon Priory!”

Jerric’s gut tightened at the sight of the panicked mer. He glanced up at the sky for signs of red clouds as he ran. “What’s happening?” he called to him.

“I don’t know!” Eronor had nearly reached him. “I think they’re right behind me! Prior Maborel is dead!”

Eronor was correct, they were right behind him. Two armored figures pelted up the road, maces in their hands. They wore the same armor that the assassins under the Imperial Prison had conjured. Jerric’s mind filled with cold fury. Redeemer hissed into his hand, and he realized he had left his shield on Flash. Again. His Woad shimmered over him as he closed with the first assassin. Man or mer, he didn’t care what he faced. He wanted to smell their blood.

When the first assassin reached Jerric, his companion still lagged several steps behind. Jerric noted wild eyes and a small frame. Redeemer’s tip pierced the assassin’s face before he could finish his strike. A surge of magicka and black joy sent Jerric toward his next opponent. This one was taller, but the reach advantage still belonged to him. He saw the assassin begin a weak swing from the wrist. Already unbalanced from his strike, the man couldn’t dodge when Redeemer sought his throat.

Jerric looked down the path through the red mist of their dissipating armor. A brown-robed figure danced around another assassin in the Weynon House courtyard, his blade glittering in the sun. Brother Piner. Another enemy approached him from the rear. Frost hurtled past Jerric and boomed against the advancing figure as Jerric ran toward them. Piner’s blade darted faster than Jerric’s eyes could follow. By the time he reached the courtyard, Brother Piner stood alone. “God’s blood!” he gasped. “They came out of nowhere! Have you seen Grandmaster Jauffre?”

“Eronor said he was in the chapel,” Martin said from behind Jerric. Jerric whirled around and stared at him.

“Quick!” cried Brother Piner. “He may need our help!”

They heard shouting as they entered the small chapel. Piner led the way, blocking the path through the pews. “You’re just in time,” Jerric heard Jauffre remark to Piner. By the time Jerric got around his flashing blade, the air was full of red mist. Three bodies lay on the floor. Jauffre stood uninjured with a long katana in his hands. Jerric looked at the small Breton, impressed. Grandmaster, he reminded himself.

“You’re back,” Jauffre said to Jerric. “Thank Talos!” He glanced at Martin, and Jerric saw recognition flare in his eyes. “They attacked without warning. I was praying here in the Chapel when I heard Prior Maborel shout. I had just time to arm myself.”

“Prior Maborel is dead,” Brother Piner said heavily.

Jerric spoke over him. “How did they know…?” He looked over at Martin.

“The Amulet of Kings!” Jauffre started toward the door. “I fear that was the target of this attack. I keep it in a secret room in Weynon House. We need to go see if it is safe.”

Brother Piner dashed after Jauffre, but Jerric held on to Martin’s arm. “It could be a trap,” he said. “I don’t know who to trust. We’ll follow in a moment.”

Martin looked aghast. “The monk was fighting for his life! You don’t think—"

“I don’t know enough to think,” said Jerric. And this anger isn’t helping, he realized. “All right, let’s go. This time, stay behind me.”

They crossed the courtyard, stepping around the dead. Jerric saw Eronor walking toward them, leading Flash. Prior Maborel’s black-robed corpse sprawled beside the Weynon House front door. Jerric almost hoped to meet opposition. His muscles twitched with energy he wanted to spend in blood.

They found Jauffre upstairs pacing in a room that had been concealed by shelving when Jerric had been there before. “They’ve taken it!” he told them. “The Amulet of Kings is gone!”

Jerric pulled Martin into the small room. “Grandmaster Jauffre.” He kept his voice low. “I have brought Martin Septim.”

Jauffre composed himself and turned to them. “Then it has not all gone against us. Thank Talos for that!” He looked Martin over, but his face did not betray his assessment. “Martin cannot stay here. We have driven them off, but they will be back once they learn of Martin’s survival. Which they will.”

“Where will he be safe?” Jerric asked. He realized he still had a grip on Martin’s arm, and he let go.

“We must take him to Cloud Ruler Temple. The hidden fortress of the Blades, in the mountains near Bruma. We should leave at once.” Jauffre turned his piercing gaze on Jerric. Jerric nodded his answer, and Jauffre turned to Martin. “We must postpone formalities until you are safe,” Jauffre said to him. He indicated the second loft area. “Over there, the trunks. Get yourselves some woolen clothing. Blankets too, we’ll be sleeping rough. There will be snow on the ground where we’re going.” Jerric found some Nord-sized clothing, and Martin had a significantly larger pile to choose from. Jauffre joined them with a leather cuirass for Martin. “Piner is packing the food. Get it from him, Jerric. We’ll meet you at the stable. Watch the road. I don’t know how quickly they will decide to send someone back here.”

“Does Brother Piner know where we’re going?” asked Jerric.

Jauffre gave him a sharp look. “He has not betrayed us.”

“No, that’s not my meaning. If they come back here looking for Martin, won’t they take whoever’s here? For information?”

“You can trust that I have taken such things into consideration,” Jauffre replied crisply.

Jerric knew it was time to shut up and move on. He headed downstairs. Piner gathered the packed food and followed him. Eronor took the blankets from Jerric when they got to the stable. He watched the road while Eronor and Piner readied the horses. Flash was wearing a saddle now, as were the bay and chestnut. “I’m sorry about the Prior,” Jerric said to the men.

Brother Piner didn’t spare him a glance. “We’ll put him to rest as soon as you are gone,” he said. “And the others.” For the first time Jerric realized that some of the forms on the ground could be residents of the Priory. These attackers hadn’t worn red robes. Piner led Flash out onto the road and gestured to Jerric. “Come on.” As Jerric walked after him, he saw Piner glance back at Eronor. “We heard about Kvatch,” Piner said. “Jauffre told us it was your home. I’m sorry, Jerric.”

“Kvatch will rebuild,” Jerric told him quietly. He felt the shadows rising again, and he pushed them back. “Will you be all right here, Brother Piner?”

“I will serve Talos, whatever comes. I hope there will be a day when you may visit us here in peace.” Jerric gripped his arm in farewell.

Jauffre and Martin joined them. While they made their final preparations, Jerric addressed Flash. “This may be the end of our friendship, fellow,”’ he said. “I hope we can agree that I should stay on.”

As they rode away from the Priory, Jerric heard the sounds of grieving. Jauffre set a brisk pace up the Black Road, and the Orange Road proved winding and steep. Gaps in the trees provided breathtaking views down across Lake Rumare. The White Tower showed them the colors of sunset, then faded to grey in the twilight. Jerric concentrated on keeping his seat.

As night fell, Jauffre slowed the horses. The road was empty and wide enough for them to ride abreast. They talked as they rode through the dusk. “Those assassins weren’t trained fighters,” Jerric said. “One of them didn’t even know how to use his mace. Still, I can’t help but worry about the folks back at the Priory.”

“The attack was a distraction while their agents searched for the Amulet,” Jauffre explained. “I believe that retrieving it was their only purpose today. The enemy will learn of Martin’s survival. Our hope lies not in secret, but in speed. We must reach Cloud Ruler Temple before they realize that Martin lives. A few men can hold it against an army. There is no place that Martin will be safer.” They rode for a few moments in silence. The evening air held a chilly bite. Jerric wondered if they had come far enough north for snow. Stars glittered in the darkening sky where he could see it between the trees. He guessed he wouldn't find out tonight. Jauffre spoke again, as if Martin was not riding right between them. “The enemy has defeated us at every turn. We gained Uriel’s heir, but lost the Amulet of Kings. Nowhere is truly safe against the power arrayed against us. But we must play for time, at least.” Jauffre’s voice sounded grim, with a disturbing edge of hopelessness.

Jerric looked over at Martin, then past him at Jauffre. He couldn’t read their expressions in the dusk. “Have you ever played stickball?” he asked them. Neither of them replied. “Well, you’ve seen it played. You know what you do when you drop a pass. Go get the ball. Make the next play.”

To Jerric’s surprise, it was Martin who spoke. His rich voice filled the cool evening. “Once we have reached Cloud Ruler Temple, you must advise me of our resources, Grandmaster Jauffre. Then we shall locate and retrieve the Amulet of Kings.”

This post has been edited by Grits: Mar 4 2011, 06:40 PM

[haute ecole rider]

Quite the homecoming. It was hard to lose Prior Maborel in the game, especially after he was so nice to loan you his horse.

And the end of the road turns out to be the start of another, much harder road. Poor Martin. He is still coming to terms with being the Emperor, but I see in your fiction he is already ahead of the game.

Jerric believed that he had steered them too far north. His thoughts were confirmed when he saw the tops of Chorrol’s crenellated city walls.

This was confusing for me. Didn't they want to go north anyway? Did you mean too far west of their ultimate destination? Or did you mean north instead of northwest in the sense of the direction of their travel? When Chorrol and WP lay on an east-west line like they do, I would think that if you ended up at Chorrol, you steered too far west in relation to your ultimate goal. In either case, both are north-northwest of where you started from. (I'm assuming you left the Gold Road at the same point I typically do when going cross country - at the bridge east of Ra'Sava Camp.)

Already unbalance from the strike, the man couldn’t dodge when Redeemer sought his throat.

The 'd' in unbalanced got scared and bolted from the fight.

Get yourselves some wool.

This triggered another brief moment of confusion for me. To me, wool means the rough fiber you get from the sheep/goats/yaks etc. And blankets are often made of wool as well, especially those in northern climates, so using wool and blankets as two separate things in the same sentence gave me pause. Did you mean woolen clothing perhaps?

Overall, still a great job and an intense read. I quite enjoyed myself here.

[Thomas Kaira]

Okay, I've finished Chapter 7 now, so I'm going to comment on that. Very powerful stuff you have going there, Grits. You handled the Battle for Kvatch very well, and Jerric's sorrow when he discovered his family was truly lost was quite moving.

Now it's time for the legendary "Escort Martin" quest. I've actually found a mod that adds a small road through the forest north of Skingrad, and I can give it to you if you are interested. I feel that that would defeat the purpose of your foray into the Reserve, though, so I will not comment further on that.

I look forward to what hi jinks the two of them might have together!

[Acadian]

You continue to do a wonderful job here! Your descriptions, dialogue and action are a pleasure to read.

'He had learned to keep the days for moving forward and let his grief have the nights.'
This is lovely.

Very powerful moment at the end, seeming to say that Martin is truly beginning to realize the nature and responsibility of the position he has been thrust into.

[SubRosa]

Tree rats
A great name for squirrels. Plus an excellent observation on Jerric's part about the acorns keeping the bears well-fed.

An exciting battle. Jerric is certainly getting good at this sort of thing.

“You can trust that I have taken such things into consideration,”
This was an excellent conclusion on the part of the author as well. Of course the Mythic Dawn would scoop up whoever was left behind and torture them. It makes me wonder if Piner has been lead to believe that they are going somewhere else, and is being sacrificed to buy time? Cold, but brilliant.

[mALX]

“You can trust that I have taken such things into consideration,” Jauffre replied crisply.

It kills me that Jauffre didn't carry the amulet on his person since he was armed and still alive at the end of the battle ... he puts it in an unlocked cupboard made of wood (smashable if it was locked) - in a room with a door (how secret is that?) - and then leaves it alone to go pray in the chapel ?????

- and then gets haughty when Jerric is thinking of strategic tactics !!!


Jauffre is the Grandmaster of the Blades whose only job is to guard the Emperor and that amulet - he loses one personally, the other is lost by men he trained - Er ... would you buy a used car from this man ???? ROFL !!!!


Great Chapter !!!!

This post has been edited by mALX: Mar 5 2011, 03:24 AM