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

[Acadian]

A delightful interlude!

Darnand took great care of Jerric. His actions and gestures speak volumes about his character, and all of it good. Nice that you revealed how Darnand learned to understand what he felt Jerric might be going through.

And Abiene. You captured her caring and healing wonderfully. Nice touch to relay her 'real estate' research to Darnand by note at dinner - and the perfect opportunity to again emphasize her indecision about the two men.


Nit:
'Jerric followed him again, and he found himself in the finest suite he had ever had ever seen.'
An unintentional repeat of 'had ever' near the end of this.

[SubRosa]

Jerric stood in the middle of the space feeling like a wild creature that had found its way indoors.
This one sentence really sums up Jerric's return to Anvil, and civilization.

Jerric is lucky to have two friends like Darnit Darnand and Abiene. As the healer observed at the end of the story, our intrepid Nord has been lost in a fog these last few episodes, and would be in even direr straits without them to lean on.

[Grits]

haute ecole rider: I’m glad those three came across for you, thank you very much for letting me know. You’re right, Abiene is even more confused. Getting him back damaged was not something she had thought through, and Darnand hasn’t given her much to work with.

mALX: What a tremendous compliment, mALX! Everything I’ve written is right here on this forum. Well, not the equipment specs, sales proposals, and the like, but all of the fiction. That’s why I can’t emphasis enough how much the support and guidance here means to me! I have rough ideas about what’s going to happen with the characters, and of course the main quest plot, but the feedback you provide has a big impact on what I’m writing. I can’t thank you enough for it!!!

Acadian: This is perfect!!! Jerric's Story illustrated. Thank you for your kind words about Darnand and Abiene. Jerric and Darnand are like a dog and a cat, even Jerric wondered why he was helping. Thank you for spotting that nit so I could fix it.

SubRosa: You’re absolutely right, he is no loner. Anvil is a long walk from CRT, I doubt if he would have made it without the vague hope of a soft landing at the end. Thank you for pointing out that quote, it is sort of a one-sentence summary.



Chapter 9: Anvil, Part 3

Jerric and Darnand walked out of Anvil’s Dock Gate and turned toward the harbor. The castle made a distant hump in the mid-morning glare. Jerric’s feet caught in his robe, and he staggered again. “Drunk already?” Darnand inquired. “I thought you said you missed breakfast. Pick up the front, if you must.”

Jerric lifted his hem, then he realized that he was mincing along in a fashion that might be described as womanish. He glanced over at Darnand. The Breton strode forward with his head up and eyes forward, cloak billowing out behind him. He would look like some High Rock prince, if not for the smirk barely evident on his face. Aha, thought Jerric. He imitated the way Darnand kicked his robe out as he walked. An arresting scent interrupted his Breton impression.

“Redguard food!” he exclaimed. “Look, a dumpling stand. Come on, loan me a Septim.” They made the exchange with a smiling, round-cheeked lass. While Darnand secured his coin purse, Jerric quietly rolled his eyes over the first savory mouthful. He neatly rewrapped the fried triangle and held it out to Darnand as they walked. “Here, you must be hungry.”

“I suppose, but I don’t think about it.”

“How can you not think about it?”

“I think with my mind, not my…” he gestured at Jerric, “general belt area.”

“Well try it, and let me know how it is.” Darnand bit off a corner and handed it back to Jerric, nodding his appreciation. “Ugh,” said Jerric. “Was there already a bite taken out of that?”

Minced meat, dough, onions, and spices flew in a swath onto the cobbles and two approaching Nords. Jerric couldn’t make out their objections over his own wheezing laughter. He leaned against a lamp post, wiping the tears from his eyes. Darnand was busy trying to swab his tongue while apologizing to the dock workers. Eventually they went on their way, each with another of Darnand’s coins in his hands. Darnand glared at Jerric. “Now that’s three you owe me.”

“Add it to my tab.” Jerric thumped him on the shoulder. “I took the bite. I guess you don’t mind my spit.” He unwrapped the dumpling and bit off another mouthful, then offered it back to Darnand.

“You saw a healer last night. I doubt you have had time to catch the pox since then, although it is possible.” Darnand took a huge bite. “You will be lucky if I give this back,” he said around the food. “You are right, this is delicious.”

Jerric and Darnand proceeded down the harbor. Low, chinked log buildings lined edge of the boardwalk, with warehouses looming along the city wall behind. The shops and taverns were open for business, but foot traffic was still fairly light. It was easy to spot the Redguard woman swaggering toward them. Her tall, heeled boots were folded over in a wide cuff. She wore low slung, tight leather pants and little else. Her hair was a mass of beaded braids, and they swung and clacked around her shoulders as she walked. Both men slowed their pace. “Whoa, would you look at —”

“Indeed,” Darnand agreed. “I have seen undergarments that cover more than that top. She must be freezing.”

“Well, she’s at least a little cold. Look at the muscles on her. I bet she could ride to Sentinel and back.”

“I doubt either of us will receive such an invitation.”

“There is no place on that woman that I wouldn’t put my– Morning,” Jerric said to her as she walked between them. She laughed, and it was not a friendly sound. They turned to watch her saunter up the boardwalk. “Did you see that cutlass? I’d love to get my hands on that,” he continued.

“She must have come from one of those ships. I expect she is a sailor.”

“How does she even get into those pants?” Jerric looked over at Darnand as they started walking again. “So, brothel?”

Darnand snorted. “Not for me, and you lack the coin.”

“What’s the situation? Do you have a girlfriend somewhere?”

“No. I just happen to think it should mean something, with someone special.”

“I couldn’t agree more, Darnand. Good thing I think all women are special.” Jerric saw that they were approaching Lelles’ store. “Look, I think you should negotiate the rent. You can say it’s not safe to live out on the beach. I don’t think he’d accept that argument from me.”

Darnand eyed him. “Indeed, you look quite capable of mayhem in that fur trimmed velvet robe. You should have worn your hero armor. He might have given you the first month for free.”

“Morvayn has it until tomorrow, maybe longer. I can’t wait for that, Wilbur wants me out of his inn.”

Darnand scowled. “What has occurred? I thought he agreed to let you stay as long as I paid.”

“Doesn’t like the noise, or something. Guests are upset. He said they thought someone was being murdered last night. I woke up, but I didn’t hear a thing. Don’t know what he’s talking about.” Jerric finished the dumpling. “Maybe you can charm Lelles. I mean a spell, not your natural charm.” He smiled at his own joke.

“I agree, I will talk to Lelles for you. I have seen you negotiate, it best resembles a puppy rolling over to have its belly rubbed. I am certain you could bargain my entire savings away.”

“What are you saving for?”

“A place where I can work in peace, free of curious Nords and other children.”

“All right then, don’t tell me. I know an Altmer near Aleswell you should meet. He turned himself invisible so he could avoid people. You two could have a hating contest.”

Darnand looked over with interest. “Was this a sustained invisibility?”

Jerric snorted. They had reached the shop.

“Wait outside,” Darnand told him. “I don’t want you to interrupt me with a sudden need for Lelles to like you.”

Jerric stood in the cool sun, enjoying the relative peace of the harbor. Gulls cried in the cloudless sky, diving and fighting for scraps from the fishing boats. Longshoremen shifted cargo with minimal shouting, but with a great deal of crashing. Some children were crabbing at the edge of the boardwalk. They dangled baited lines into the water. Jerric ambled over to view their catch. “Do you want to buy some crabs, sir?” asked a deeply tanned Imperial boy.

“No thanks.” He watched the Redguard sailor strut past again. A tattoo covered most of her back, but he couldn’t tell what it was. The sun caught a ridged scar over her hip. She turned down one of the docks, heading for a galleon. “What’s that ship, there?”

“She’s the Serpent’s Wake, sir. Just back from the Summerset Isles.”

A creaking door drew Jerric’s attention back to the shops. He turned to find Darnand stepping out of Lelles’ store. “If I find it is a pile of dreck, I shall have words with you,” he snapped at the merchant.

“It’s the only roof left for rent in Anvil. I’ve thrown in a cleaning, what more do you want?” Lelles called after him. He spotted Jerric and nodded to him. “Good day to you.”

Jerric opened his mouth to answer, but Darnand yanked him by the arm. “Let us remove ourselves while he still thinks he has bested me.” Darnand stomped up the harbor for a few paces, then he relaxed and turned to Jerric. “Here is your key. It is the hut on the end. There is a well behind the dunes next to the privy, which sounds ill-advised. If I were you I should carry my water from town.”

“Thanks, Darnand. My own place, hard to believe.”

“Your own as long as you pay him. Speaking of which, what is your plan?”

“First I need to buy some clothes. My laundry isn’t ready yet, and I’m not joining the Fighters Guild wearing a velvet dress.” Darnand was giving him a patient stare. “Oh, you mean for money. Well, I’ve been thinking. Running Wolf would pay my bills, but I need more than that. Fighters Guild might have something, but they might not pay well to start. I’ll ask around about some high-risk jobs.” He glanced over to make sure Darnand was still listening. “You said you were saving, too. More risk means more reward. I think we can help each other out.”

Darnand did look interested. “You also spoke about training.”

“Yeah. That’s why I need coin, to train and buy better gear. And spells. For when I go back into the Deadlands. The Sigil Towers are more heavily guarded now than the one at Kvatch. I guess they were surprised that I closed that one. I’ve seen daedroths in the wastelands, too. I can’t kill those on my own, I need to be able to summon stronger allies. I’d be dead many times over if I didn’t have that little pearl ring to show me the big fetchers. I need more experience against armored dremora. It takes me too long to finish them with a blade, and sometimes they have company. And the last Gate I closed had a storm atronach guarding the sigil stone. I had to grab the stone and jump, I didn’t even know how to fight it. I need a strong shock spell I can use. A touch spell, it’s too hard to aim while I’m moving in that terrain. I have sigil stones that carry powerful enchantments, but not weapons I want to use them on. I need coin to recharge Redeemer, too. Also I’ve used up all of my potions. I wouldn’t last five minutes in the Deadlands right now. I’ve been lucky, Darnand. I hope you can help me get ready to go back.”

Darnand looked thoughtful for several minutes while they walked. “I can summon dremora for you to fight. I can summon a daedroth as well, but I hesitate to do so inside the city. I have been doing some reading that might help you, I shall take another look before we speak again.” He thought for another moment. “Athragar in Chorrol has the summons spells you need. I will not try to teach you the ones I know, that would be far too dangerous. If you are an expert in destruction we can go to Adrienne Berene. Otherwise, Vigge the Cautious will have the shock spell.”

“Vigge. We’ll go to Kvatch then.” He looked at Darnand to make sure he meant both of them. “You can get your recommendation while we’re there.”

Darnand nodded. “Now, you need to be able to trap soul energy in a gem, so you can recharge your own weapons. That means you need to reach apprentice level in mysticism. You can start by learning how to detect the energy in living things, and then practicing. I am certain I can teach you that, but let us keep that knowledge between ourselves. It is the same energy you capture when you cast a spell to trap a soul.”

“Like my ring shows me, it looks kind of pink. I have a sigil stone that carries an enchantment to trap energy, but I’m not going to steal any souls. There has to be another way.”

Darnand grabbed his arm as they walked, his face alight with excitement. “One of your sigil stones? That would be ideal, it would save so much time! You could start right away, and sell filled gems back to Gulitte. Now just listen. You know the energy in soul gems?”

“That’s souls?” Jerric asked, aghast. He had never connected the name with anything.

“We are talking about the energy that is released when a soul leaves the body, not the soul itself. The life energy of a living creature, not plants. Even a mudcrab has it.”

“But the souls might need it. For their journey. Maybe that’s where ghosts come from.” He scratched his hand through his hair in agitation.

“Let us consider it. Have you ever heard of a ghost mudcrab? A rat haunting? It is just energy, Jerric. You call it magicka when it is in your sword. You can make a chair out of a piece of wood, or a bow, or put it on the fire. It is still wood. Giving it a different name and use does not make the thing different. Besides, you need black soul gems to capture human souls. Which is wrong,” he added quickly.

Jerric thought for a few moments before he could accept Darnand’s explanation. “It sounds like we have a plan. Earn some coin, go to Kvatch, then on to Chorrol.” He sighed. “I hate to say it, but I think we’re going to have to go underground. Fort ruins, bandit lairs, places that fall between the Legion and the Anvil Guard’s jurisdictions. I know an Altmer who will pay for some old wine, maybe we can find some of that. She said it’s rare, though, so I guess we’ll just have to get started and see what we find.”

They stopped, and Jerric looked at Darnand curiously. Darnand gestured to the building beside them. “Clothing. You said you need some. This is a clothier’s shop.” He handed his coin purse to Jerric. “Just add it to what you owe me, I think you can handle buying your own breeches.”

“Thanks, Darnand.” Darnand raised his hand as he walked away. Jerric took a deep breath and entered the shop. Every kind of trim and fabric in all colors of the rainbow assaulted his eyes. There wasn’t an inch of space in the room that wasn’t stacked or packed with clothing.

“Greetings, Nord,” said the shopkeeper. An Imperial woman, about his age and softly pretty. Her sweet brown eyes made him think of Abiene.

“Greetings. I need some clothes.”

“Well, you’re in the right place,” she said pleasantly. Her hands were filled with some frilly thing. “I’ll be with you in a moment. You can go ahead and get started. Step behind the screen and remove your robe, if you please.”

Jerric walked over to the corner where a curtain screened off an area of the shop. He ducked behind it and pulled the robe off over his head. I guess she’s going to bring me some things, he thought. “Is this your shop?” he asked her. His boots thumped when he dropped them on the wooden floor.

“It is. I am the Tulia of Tulia’s Threads.”

“I’m Jerric. Pleased to meet you.” He heard Tulia walk briskly over to the alcove. He jumped when she whipped the curtain back. Both of them stood frozen for a moment. “I, uh, also need to buy some drawers,” said Jerric. “As you can see.”

“If you need drawers, why on Nirn did you take off your clothes?” He couldn’t tell if she was more amused or astonished.

“Well, you told me to!” Jerric was beginning to feel uncomfortable. “Why do you need me to be naked?”

“I don’t! I just want to get accurate measurements.” She lifted the end of the tape measure she wore draped over her shoulders.

“You want to measure it?”

Tulia’s eyes flew back up to his face. “No! Well, yes. Your waist. And inseam. And your – I’ll likely have to make what you want, you’ll order it from me. My goodness, how old are you? How is it possible you don’t know how to buy clothing?”

“My Ma used to buy them for me.” Tulia looked skeptical. “Really.” Jerric noticed that Tulia was standing very close to him, and she smelled nice. He decided that her gown was quite flattering, especially at the top. He crossed his hands in front of himself. “Look, in a moment this is going to get embarrassing.”

“I’ll find some undergarments for you. Normal people wear them in these situations. I didn’t think I would ever be surprised again, but you’ve managed it.”

“All right, now I know. I mean, if I had them, I wouldn’t need to be here.”

“Then let’s just forget about this and start over.” The twinkle in her eyes told him she had no intention of forgetting. She closed the curtain, and he heard her light steps moving about the shop. A moment later a pair of linen shorts with a drawstring waist appeared over the curtain. “These should fit. And I’m sure I have some simple trousers that you can wear, and perhaps a knit shirt. But I’ll need to measure you for whatever else you’ll want.”

Jerric pulled on his new drawers. He smiled and shook his head. “Ready,” he said.

This post has been edited by Grits: Mar 18 2011, 05:02 PM

[haute ecole rider]

“You want to measure it?”

Tulia’s eyes flew back up to his face. “No! Well, yes.

This is absolutely delightful!

“No. I just happen to think it should mean something, with someone special.”

“I couldn’t agree more, Darnand. Good thing I think all women are special.”

Somehow I'm not surprised he said that! That's some big-hearted man!

So now Darn and Jerry are gonna go adventuring together? Do I sense a budding bromance coming up? I always did enjoy a bit of male bonding, you know!

[mALX]

Your ability to set mood with dialogue is amazing !! The two quotes I would make as my faves (if I was on a working PC, that is) - Jerric realizing he was mincing in the dress, and of course the clothing shop !!!

I have a sneaking suspicion Darnand would like to see Jerric's interest go in the direction of Tulia rather than risk Jerric enticing Abiene away from him with that natural charm of his.

As always, AWESOME WRITE !!!!

[SubRosa]

So Jerric and Darnand are swapping spit now? What a cute couple they make. I guess Abiene is going to have to look elsewhere for romance!

Good thing I think all women are special
Yep, typical male.

Sounds like Jerric snores too, given Wilbur's complaints!

You show a wonderful contrast between Jerric and Darnand. Like you said before, a cat and a dog indeed. Darnand's discussion on soul trapping was enlightening, and Jerric's laundry list of what he needs to learn was truly daunting!

I know an Altmer who will pay for some old wine,
And she cuts hair too!

“If you need drawers, why on Nirn did you take off your clothes?”
This is the kind of situation only Jerric can get himself into!




nits:
Sommerset Isles.
Normally that is Summerset, unless you are changing it.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Mar 18 2011, 05:03 PM

[Acadian]

An enjoyable walk along the Anvil boardwalk, with plenty of local flavor!

Seems like Jerric is planning some time to significantly upgrade his capabilities, and his wardrobe. Sounds like a prudent plan, and it is nice that he has some help.

[TheOtherRick]

Here is yet another story that I am just now getting around to reading. I started it this morning and so far I am thoroughly enjoying it. I picture Jerric as looking like Bill Fagerbakke (from Coach and The Stand), but with a touch more intelligence than Fagerbakke's characters. He seems carefree, clumsy, and oafish, until he is armed and fighting. The overnight antics, first with Velwyn at Brinna's Cross and then Jerric waking up in 'chew your arm off' mode, are hilarious.

Great writing and I'm looking forward to reading more.

[Grits]

haute ecole rider: Jerric gave Tulia a blonde moment of her own. You’re right about the adventuring, but first a little more business.

mALX: Thank you mALX, it was nice to have a little fun. Darnand should definitely be paying closer attention.

SubRosa: My germaphobe friend inspired the spit swapping. One time we accidentally switched wine glasses, and I thought he might throw up on my shoes. Instead he said, “Oh, well I don’t mind your spit.” That was real acceptance! Thank you for the nit, I fixed it.

Acadian: It’s good to have friends. Sadly no one has explained the concept of matching shoes to Jerric, so he still won’t need a magical bag to carry his wardrobe.

TheOtherRick: I’m so glad you’re enjoying the story so far! Yes, Jerric is definitely the big blonde in the room. I really like Bill Fagerbakke, but let’s imagine a different voice for him -- now I keep hearing Patrick Star!! I’m glad you’re reading, and I hope we can keep your interest.

Recap: It’s Jerric’s first full day back in Anvil. This morning he rented a house and did some shopping with a little help from friends.


Chapter 9: Anvil, Part 4 Moving In

Jerric walked along the beach in the afternoon sun. Surf crashed along his left, sending cold spray into the breeze. A row of small, wooden huts backed against the dunes on his right. Smoke trickled out of a few chimneys, but he didn’t see any of his neighbors. He walked to the hut on the end and looked in through the open door.

A middle aged Imperial woman stood there with a brush in one hand and a dust pan in the other. She possessed a round little figure, lively gray eyes, and tidy hair in an unlikely shade of red. When she tipped her head to the side she made Jerric think of a busy little sparrow. He quickly decided not to voice the comparison. She eyed him speculatively.

“I’m Jerric,” he said.

“Vania. I’m the cleaner. I suppose you’re the new tenant.”

“Yes, I am. Pleased to meet you.”

“We’re not finished, it’ll be a few more hours. The girls are on their way back with your new mattress. I’m not even going to tell you what was on the old one.”

“All right then, probably for the best. Is there anything I can do?”

She looked him up and down. “I don’t know. Is there?”

“Well, I can shift anything in there. And I guess I can sweep.”

She gave him a brisk nod, and he thought he saw a dimple. “In that case, get that lot outside so I can scrub the floor. I don’t think it’s been done since the day they laid it.”

Jerric dropped his packs and packages on the dune grass and got to work. There weren’t many pieces of furniture in his hut, and all of them were plain, solid wood. He supposed that’s how they had reached their current advanced age. He carried two small chests of drawers, a cupboard, a trunk, a tall set of shelves, one sturdy chair, and a small table outside into the sun. When he dragged the bed frame out he decided that while it looked long enough for a Nord, it could stand to be a little wider. He stripped off his shirt and swabbed his face with it, then stuffed it into the back of his waistband so he’d know where to find it. Somehow the room looked smaller without the furniture.

Vania eyed his bare torso. “It’s Evening Star.”

Jerric shrugged. “I’m hot.”

“Grab a broom,” said Vania. “We’ll sweep, then I’ll scrub.” Jerric started in one corner, Vania in the other. He had raised a decent cloud of dirt when Vania started shouting. “Nord, what are you doing?!”

Jerric looked up, perplexed. “Sweeping.”

“And where do you think all the dirt is going?”

He looked around. “Away.”

“It’s going up, then it will come back down in here again. It needs to go out. Make a pile and sweep toward the door.” She watched him sternly, and he smiled to think how this small woman was suddenly the boss of him. Imperials, he thought.

“How’s that?” he asked her.

“Better. In my opinion, you should stick to your heroics and leave the cleaning to professionals. Lion of Kvatch.” Jerric saw that she was smiling at him. “Everyone in these parts owes you a debt of gratitude. I know I’ll never forget it.”

“Uh…” Jerric was saved from his discomfort by a shriek from the dunes. He and Vania stepped through the wide doorway and looked around behind the hut. Two teenage girls walked along the path carrying a rolled mattress between them. Their shouts and laughter floated down on the breeze. Jerric glanced over at Vania.

“Two of my daughters,” she said. She gave him another stern look. “Fifteen and seventeen. Hero or not, don’t even think about it.”

“Right.” Jerric decided this was a good time to put on his shirt.

“Over there, girls. Now go fetch the water. All of this needs a good scrubbing. You two wash down the furniture, I’m doing the floor.” She looked at Jerric. “You might as well go off for a while, I don’t know what will happen if I turn you loose on some soap and water. Go get yourself a new cook pot, it seems the last tenant couldn’t be bothered to walk to the privy.”

“All right, Vania. I guess I’ll go for a run and maybe a swim. It’s been a talking kind of day.”

“Do you want me to come back and clean for you, or are you going to do it yourself?”

It took Jerric a moment to figure out her meaning. He had always thought that things just stayed clean. “All right,” he said uncertainly.

Vania nodded. “I’ll come once a week for ten drakes, or every two weeks for fifteen. I’ll charge you more if you turn out to be a slob. Sweep, dust, wash the floor, dishes, change the sheets. That means you’ll need two sets, I can’t do your wash out here. Do you want me to do your laundry?”

“Sure, but I don’t have a week’s worth of clothes. Uh, I don’t have sheets yet, either.” Jerric realized that he’d never given much thought to his domestic arrangements.

Vania shook her head. “Bachelors. You’re my bread and butter, but most of you still need your mothers.” A sudden look of horror crossed her face. “Apologies, Jerric.”

“No, Vania, you’re right. I was about to ask you how many pairs of drawers I should buy.” He smiled at her, and some of the discomfort left her face. “Once a week then, plus laundry. How do we do it, I take it to your house?”

“I’ll pick it up when I clean, then I’ll send my girls out to drop it off when it’s ready. It’ll take longer if it’s raining. Where should they leave it?” The two of them looked around the small covered porch.

“I tell you what, I think I’ll just leave the door unlocked. I’ll latch it from the inside when I’m home, so you don’t have to worry that they’ll open the door and get any surprises. I don’t have anything worth stealing out here. The salt air is bad for metal, so most of my gear is up at the guild hall.”

“That sounds good, Jerric.” She looked up at him and smiled, and this time he definitely saw dimples.

___

Jerric made a small fire more for its crackling company than for its heat. He looked around his new home. He had what he needed here, but it didn’t give him any comfort. The peace he had found in the day’s activities had evaporated. He tried to pace, but there wasn’t room. He considered going for another run, but the moons weren’t up yet. Shadows already crept up in his mind. Tonight could be a bad one. He realized that he missed his horse.

A light knock on the door brought his attention back to the room. He knew Abiene would be there before he opened it. She stood with the darkness at her back, her face lit by his small fire. She held a small satchel in her hands. “Moving in?” he joked, but he couldn’t quite manage a smile.

“I want to take another look at the scar on your shoulder. It bothers you, doesn’t it?” She gave him a little shove to get in through the door.

“It itches. It’s not the end of the world, though.” Jerric winced at his choice of words. He took Abiene’s cloak, watching her warily. He had avoided her at the guild hall, worried how he might react to her.

“Come on,” she instructed. She pushed him into the chair and pulled his shirt over his head. “Cooperate.” She moved behind him, and he felt her smooth hands running over his skin again. The scar did pull and itch. “It’s adhered,” she told him. “I’d like to work on it some more.”

“All right.”

“Not here. I’ll need to cut you a little. I want Carahil to observe.” She ran her hands over his shoulders and down his chest. He felt her face against the top of his head, then against his neck.

“Abiene, what are you doing?”

“Trying to get close to you. You’re making it difficult.” She moved to the table and opened the satchel. “I’ve brought you kahve beans, bread, cheese, and apples for the morning. Would you like some ale?”

“Not now, but thank you. Look, we had some fun this summer, but I’m not the same.” Jerric stood up and offered her the chair, but she shook her head. There was nowhere else for him to be, so he sat back down. “There’s work I need to do, to get ready for what’s coming. I’m already behind.” He wanted to reach for her, but fear stopped his hands.

“You’re right, I see the change in you. There’s a part of you now that I can’t reach. But the rest is still you, Jerric. Torn apart inside, and hurting. Please let me help you.”

“Is that why you’re here? To fix me? Don’t.”

Abiene’s face was solemn, and her eyes looked almost black in the firelight. “I’m far more selfish than you think. You don’t want to be alone, I know it. You came back here where people care for you. But you have to let me, Jerric.”

“Today I felt almost like myself again, but I know I could just crack. Remember the Count’s Arms? What if it happens again? I need to get my head right, not go backward.” He scrubbed his hands through his hair, then pressed them on his knees to still them.

“I’m not afraid, no matter what happens. Let tonight just be tonight. I’ve missed you. If you don’t want me here, you can show me the door.”

Jerric could see the strain in her face, and his own tension coiled inside him. “You should know, I’m not staying. But you’re right, I don’t want to be alone.” The moment he decided to trust her, he saw that she could tell.

“I knew you would leave before. I don’t want any promises, and I’m not offering any. That hasn’t changed.” She moved over and sat sideways on his lap with her legs between his knees. Her arm felt like it belonged there when she slipped it around his neck.

“How long ago did we say goodbye?” He took her hand and brought it to his lips. “I guess I should be glad you didn’t know I’d be back so soon. You might not have been so generous that morning.” You're not going to lose her, he told himself.

“That’s nothing compared to how I feel right now. And out here we don’t need to be quiet.” Her first kiss felt as soft as a whisper.

Jerric breathed in the light fragrance she wore in her hair, and under it the warm scent that was just Abiene. “I don’t even have sheets yet. I’ve aired out my bedroll, but it’s still pretty ripe.”

“I don’t care about that. Anyway, this chair would do just fine.” Her smile was also a challenge. “Besides, it’s your first night in a new place. Starting off right is important. For luck.”

“I’ve never had my own place before, so it’s probably even more important.” When he smiled back he saw the joy leap up in her eyes. “I guess we better do what you say. Wouldn’t want to risk it.” She hiked up her skirt and shifted around to face him. He wanted to touch her everywhere at once.

They wound up on the bed eventually. Jerric looked around his fire lit hut with new affection as they rested together. That’s my favorite chair, he thought sleepily. Abiene may be a child of Stendarr, but Dibella has blessed her far more than this Nord deserves.

“Jerric,” Abiene murmured.

“Hmm.”

“Don’t fall asleep.”

“I’m trying not to. I don’t want you to walk back to the harbor alone.” He lifted his head and smiled down at her. She looked flushed and happy. He wouldn’t have believed she could make him feel this way again. “Stay tonight, Abiene.”

“No, I don’t want the gossip. But that’s not what I meant. I’ll be fine walking back on my own.”

He closed his eyes. “I won’t hear of it. Get me up if you have to. Don’t go alone, promise.”

“What’s going to get me, a mudcrab? I’m sure I can outrun it if I see one. Anyway, wake up.”

“I’m awake.” His next breath was undeniably a snore. He forced his eyes open. “See?”

Abiene laughed, and it tickled his chest. “I want to ask you something. It’s serious.”

Jerric picked up his head and tucked his arm behind it. “All right, I’m listening.”

“I was wondering if you thought in a little while, maybe we could go again.” She had her chin braced on his chest now, and the look in her eye was pure mischief.

“What’s this maybe? I’m Jerric, have we met?” Her laugh turned into a squeak when he scooped her up and rolled her under him. “You’re going to have to wait a little, though.” Now it was his turn to get comfortable on her chest. He made sure he wasn’t crushing her on the narrow bed. “Tell me a story,” he said.

This post has been edited by Grits: Mar 21 2011, 06:57 PM

[SubRosa]

I loved Jerric's comparison of Vania to a sparrow. Especially after the excellent description you gave of her.

I’m not even going to tell you what was on the old one
Ewwww!

She looked him up and down. “I don’t know. Is there?”
Score one for Sergeant Apone! I was half-expecting Jerric to get in a load lifter afterward. Or fight an Alien Queen!

Jerric shrugged. “I’m hot.”
So Abiene says, or was that Darnand?

Go get yourself a new cook pot, it seems the last tenant couldn’t be bothered to walk to the privy
You certainly know how to paint a disgusting picture!

[Acadian]

'He had always thought that things just stayed clean.'


A pair of delightful scenes with a pair of delightful ladies in Jerric's new home.

I enjoyed meeting the little sparrow, Vania. You really brought her to life!

And a visit from Abiene that was welcome, sweet and touching. And touching again after a short break.

[haute ecole rider]

What a wonderful way to begin recovery from shell shock! First a little hut on the beach complete with its own dimpled leading lady. Then a sweet visit from Abiene! Could this get any better? I can't wait to see!

[mALX]

A wonderful chapter from beginning to end, would have to quote the whole thing to pull out any part that struck me especially. I see big trouble ahead for Darnand and Jerric's friendship, though. Awesome story - I have been hooked from the start on it, but each new chapter adds a new draw !! Awesome Write !!

[Grits]

SubRosa: A cheap beach house, welcome to the low rent district!

Acadian: I didn’t mind leaving Jerric where he was for awhile, he seemed pretty comfortable.

haute ecole rider: I’m sure at some point he’ll wish he could return to the last chapter!

mALX: You’re right, there could be trouble!

Folks: I’m trying something new this time, writing ahead a little. I like it much better this way, but it means posting will be more erratic. Still haven’t written the whole chapter first, but I’m working toward that! I appreciate your comments and support so much!


Chapter 10: Septims, Part 1

Jerric drank his morning kahve with the sunrise at his back and his feet in the Abecean Sea. The tide was out, and low waves lapped up gently around his ankles. The air was cold enough to make the water feel warm. His breath misted out, blending with the steam rising from his cup. The open water seemed to pull at him, the same way the mountains had made him want to discover what lay beyond them. He decided that the day’s goals would be more modest than that. Join the Fighters Guild. Talk to some mages. Earn a few Septims.

He started at the Fighters Guild hall. The front door opened onto a massive, open room. Racks for weapons lined the walls. Two round targets stood beside an arched doorway, and the middle of the space held a training dummy secured to the floor and a support frame with chains. Long banners hung on the high walls. Looks the same, Jerric thought. He wandered up to the dummy and gave it a casual jab. Chains rattled. They stood alone in the room.

A door opened and closed somewhere up the stairs, and the sound of booted feet preceded their owner. A balding Imperial stepped through the archway with a steaming cup in one hand and a sweet roll in the other. “Help you?” he inquired.

“Uh, yeah. I’m Jerric. I’m here to ask about signing up. I need some work.”

“Fullo Macula, porter. You’ll want to see Azzan about that. Follow me.”

“Pleased to meet you.” Jerric followed the porter through a small storage room and up the stone stairs.

The door opened into another large space, this one a dining room. The crackling fire could barely be heard over laughter from the fighters at the long dining table. “That woman is a bit off kilter,” remarked a Nord. “I don’t even want to know what she’s got in her basement.” More laughter followed his comment. Jerric’s eyes went straight to the only Redguard at the table. Rhano. Recognition flared in Rhano’s face before his expression emptied. He did not return Jerric’s nod of greeting. Jerric followed the porter through the dining room and up another set of stairs.

“Fresh meat,” the porter announced as they entered yet another massive room. This one appeared to be the company office. More banners, display cases, and shelves lined the walls. Azzan sat at a desk angled in the far corner. He waved Jerric in with one hand, the other occupied with his kahve.

The door closed behind the porter as Jerric approached the desk. “Jerric,” Azzan said. “Pull up a chair. Decided to join us?”

Jerric did as he was told. “If you’ll have me.” He noted that Azzan’s face was still unlined, and his close cut black hair was yet untouched by silver.

“We’re always looking for new members.” Azzan’s expression became grave. “We heard about what happened at Kvatch. You have my sympathy for the loss of your family. And my thanks for what followed.”

Jerric nodded. He still hadn’t found the words for this situation. He cleared his throat. “I need to earn, Azzan. And I need to train. I have some ideas for working with the Mages Guild, training against summoned daedra. This thing isn’t over.”

“Well, it sounds like the Fighters Guild has a new Associate. Congratulations. I take it you mean all of us training with the mages. I’ll give some thought to what you’ve suggested. I don’t like it, but in these times it may be necessary.”

Jerric was surprised at Azzan’s decisiveness. “Thanks. Do you have a contract for me? I need coin to get my gear back from Morvayn.”

Azzan’s expression was unreadable. “I think I’ve got something that suits your experience. Arvena Thelas has some problem with rats in her house.”

Jerric raised his eyebrows. Once again he found himself at a loss for words.

“Yes, rats,” Azzan confirmed. He sounded a little impatient. “I’m sure she can explain it to you better than I. She lives here in Anvil. Go and talk to her.”

“All right. Mind if I borrow a blade? I don’t want to represent the Fighters Guild with nothing in my hand but my… Without a weapon.”

Azzan snorted. “There’s an iron long sword in the practice room, help yourself. Go take care of the rats. Then come back and talk to me. Good luck!”

The diners were still at the table when he passed back through. He returned their greetings with a wave, not wanting to linger. Fullo introduced Jerric to Mojo, the resident shepherd dog. Jerric scratched his neck instead of reciprocating the dog’s enthusiastic crotch-sniffing. He grabbed the sword on his way out, then he ducked next door into the Mages Guild.

He found Carahil sitting in her office with a quill in her hand. “Carahil, you wanted to see me. Uh, yesterday.” He tried to keep his eyes from wandering curiously over the bookshelves behind her, but he was only marginally successful.

“Yes, Jerric. Come in and shut the door. Please seat yourself.” Jerric sat down and waited while she arranged her desk clutter. She leaned back and folded her hands. “I would like you to relate the events that occurred on the Gold Road,” she said. “I shall include your remarks in my report to the Council of Mages.”

Jerric took a moment to compose his thoughts. “I was traveling west on the road with my pack horse. It was morning, and the sun was behind me. I heard the sound of a frost attack and shouting, so I asked my horse to wait and ran to the fight. There was an Altmer woman fighting with a Breton man on the road, it was Darnand. He wasn’t using his dagger. She was wearing a blue dress, no armor. I saw the Altmer attack him with a targeted frost spell, and he cast a fire spell at her. She hit him again with her frost. When I got to them, he was down. I was shouting, but she didn’t turn around until I hit her with my own frost spell. She kept throwing fire at me until I got my sword into her chest. I guess she switched because she could see I’m a Nord. By then Darnand was back on his feet, and two Imperial Battlemages were coming at us from the west. I recognized them by the uniforms. Anyway, it looked bad for me until Darnand saw who I was and straightened things out. I’m sure I looked more like a marauder than a mage. It could have been ugly if he hadn’t kept his head. We left them with the body. I called my horse and walked with Darnand back to Anvil.”

“You called your horse… You have learned a command spell?”

“No, I whistled. I still don’t know any illusion magic.”

Carahil smiled, it seemed to herself. “Of course. Thank you, Jerric. I am sending your recommendation to the Council along with Darnand’s. You did not request one, but you have proven yourself to me by your purposeful actions in the field. I hope you will consider seeking your recommendations from the other chapters. You will need them to advance in the guild and be given any sort of responsibility. Once you have reached the rank of Apprentice, you will have access to the Arcane University. There you will be allowed to use the Praxographical Center to make your own spells and the altars of enchanting in the Chironasium. Do you plan to stay in Anvil for a time?”

“A little while. I just joined the Fighters Guild for some training, and I already have a contract for them. I found a place to live out on the beach, I won’t be staying here in the guild hall.”

“I see no conflict with the Fighters Guild until you begin to advance in rank with us, and then it will only be in the demands upon your time. Of course I would like you to take assignments from me as soon as you have been promoted to Apprentice. You need not attach yourself to this chapter to use this hall. You may have whatever space you need in the workroom. I trust you will not abuse your privilege.”

“Thank you, Carahil. I’d like to keep storing my gear here, you could break the lock on my hut with a sneeze. And I’ll need the space for alchemy. Is there anything you’d like me to do for now, as Associate? I need coin.”

“Report to Felen. He can always use extra hands.”

“I’ll check with him. I need a new Journeyman’s seal anyway. Thank you again.”

“May I suggest that you test for Expert? You would need to spend more time refining your potions for sale, of course. However, as an Expert you would earn quite a bit more for yourself, and for the guild.”

“I’ll ask him about it. I’ve been using a mortar and pestle I got off a goblin. I guess I’ve gotten better just by making it work.”

“I expect you have. There is more I would like to discuss with you, Jerric. You seem restless. Would you prefer to meet at another time?”

“I can’t sit still for very long anymore, Carahil. I don’t mean any disrespect. It’s the same when I try to sleep. My head just…”

“I would like to calm your mind for you. Do you trust me?”

Jerric stared at her incredulously. “Who could possibly trust an illusionist?”

“Do you trust that I want to help you? I do not suffer fools in my hall, Jerric. I would not waste my time if I considered you lacking.”

Jerric snorted. “Well I believe that. All right, go ahead and mess with my mind. You might not like what you find in there.”

Carahil stretched her hands over the desk. “Illusion magic does not allow me to see into your mind, only to place suggestions there. Give me your hands.”

“I guess that was supposed to be comforting. Can’t you just toss some confusion at me?”

She gave him a cool smile. “Of course, but this is not an attack. I would rather proceed gently.” She waited.

Jerric put his hands on the desk, and Carahil took them. He looked at her slender fingers and thought that she could be made of gold and he of rough stone. He opened her hand on his and examined her perfect oval nails. They were short as he would expect from someone who worked with alchemy, but they looked as carefully tended as a lady’s. Her right palm was ridged with calluses. Hard, but smooth when he ran his thumb over them. He noticed that her fingers were longer than his, but his hand was almost twice the width of hers. He realized that his mind was empty and he was holding hands with the Anvil chapter head like they were a pair of adolescents. He flushed and let go of her.

Carahil’s smile reached her eyes this time. “There, is that not an improvement?”

“Thank you,” he said, and he meant it. “I didn’t even know you did anything.”

“An important part of mastering illusion magic is concealing its use. Jerric, I would like to offer you counsel.”

“All right.”

“Which would you say is your strongest school of magic?”

“That’s easy, destruction. Wait, maybe alchemy.”

“You are more skilled in destruction spells, that is true. But I believe you have a gift for conjuration.”

“Really. That’s… Carahil, you don’t approve of summoning.”

“I advocate practicing magic that is free from the dark arts. Summoning may put a mage on the path that leads to necromancy. However, in these times we must employ all of the weapons we have at our disposal. In your case, I cannot believe that you would become corrupted by that kind of power.”

“Well, I think you’re right about that. Conjuring a skeleton hasn’t made me want to kill someone to get at their bones.”

“Consider the gladiator games you ran this summer. No, I do not bring it up to chastise you, of course I knew about it. Did you think you could open a Skeleton Arena in my basement without my notice? Some of the wagers Thaurron placed were on my behalf.”

“You’re kidding! That little… please, Carahil, continue.”

“Your ‘Slim’ consistently vanquished opponents summoned by far more advanced conjurers. You were able to direct his attacks, and your observation of his tactics allowed you to form effective strategies for him. Yes, I was there. If you took the time to learn a little mysticism, you would have known.”

“I could use some illusion, too,” he admitted.

“I suggest starting with a simple light spell. He is not a guild trainer, but I believe Darnand has had some success teaching you.” She watched him under a raised brow, and he wondered what she had surmised about the time he had spent with his paid instructor, Abiene. He felt a flush creep up his neck. “There is no need to read your thoughts when they are written on your face,” she observed.

“Do you think anyone else figured it out? She wanted to keep it quiet, you know how mages gossip.”

“If anyone had guessed it would be all over Anvil. I wondered how the most promising restoration trainer I have seen in over a century was unable to help you advance in your studies. I see you did not consider the effect your failure would have on her professional reputation. You have an undisciplined mind. Not all of your power comes from the stars, Jerric. That others underestimate you should not allow you to underestimate yourself.”

“Uh, right.” Jerric appreciated that Carahil did not coddle him, but her direct manner was getting uncomfortable. He decided to change the tone of the conversation. “Learning a new spell from an unsanctioned trainer,” he commented. “Smacks of hedge-wizardry, Carahil.” He watched her response carefully. Teasing one’s chapter head was reckless, even for him.

Carahil smiled in amusement. “You should not get into trouble with a light spell,” she replied evenly. “If I hear he has taught you a new summons, there will be consequences. I will not have rogue daedra rampaging through my hall. You will have to travel to Chorrol for that.”

Jerric grinned back, imagining a clannfear tossing Gulitte over its back. “Thanks, I’ll work on my summoning. It’s funny you should mention it. I’m heading to Chorrol as soon as I have the coin. I guess I’ll take the time to pick up some recommendations, too. Don’t know when I’ll get down to Bravil, but I sure would like to use the university. I have an idea for a spell. A couple of ideas.”

“I believe that the trip would be worth your time. I have another suggestion for you. Felen could mix a potion to help you sleep.”

“I don’t think so. I don’t want to drink yet, either. I guess most drunks don’t start out to be that way.”

“I’ll leave it to you to ask, then. That will be all for today, Jerric. I hope that we will see you here tomorrow.”

“You will. I’ll be in and out every day with my gear here, so I’ll be easy to find if you think of a job for me. And I’ll bring that robe back as soon as it’s cleaned. Whose is it? It’s so fine, I’ve only seen that style in paintings.”

Carahil sat silently for so long he began to wish he hadn’t asked. Finally she spoke. “That robe belonged to a battlemage. I knew him long ago. It was my honor to fight by his side, and my lasting regret that his life ended under my leadership. He was a Nord, and he too was born under the Atronach.” Carahil looked up and met his eyes. He saw a sorrow in her that touched his own. “The lives of men are so fleeting, many of my kind cannot be bothered to know you. However, I find that the briefest fires burn the brightest.”

Jerric didn’t know what to say to that. “You’re a spellsword?” he guessed.

“Yes. Does that surprise you?”

“No, it actually explains a lot. I remember last summer when you spoke to all of us students. How did you put it? ‘Practical application is often the best educator in the many uses of restoration, even in life and death situations.’ In other words, don’t be a baby if you get your head cut off, just think of the great practice you’ll get putting it back on again. It wasn’t hard to see which of us hadn’t healed anything worse than a scraped knee.”

Carahil laughed, and the sound was surprisingly youthful. “I see you divined my intent as well as my meaning. It would please me to learn that I had underestimated you.” Carahil rose and gestured to the door. “Until tomorrow, Jerric.”

“All right, Carahil. See you tomorrow.”

This post has been edited by Grits: Apr 5 2011, 01:58 PM

[haute ecole rider]

A wonderful introduction to the Fighters Guild and the bundle of hotness that is Azzan (though Rhano isn't that far behind!).

And an engrossing discussion with Carahil about Jerric's place in the Mages Guild. Yes, I can see how eventually he'll have to make a choice sometime down the line.

[SubRosa]

Given his reactions it seems like Jerric has been to the Anvil FG before, and definitely has crossed paths with Rhano as well.

“I don’t even want to know what she’s got in her basement.”
I wonder if that is a reference to my favorite Rat Lady! (and one of my favorite characters in the game)

And I see it is Arvena Thelas indeed.

Jerric scratched his neck instead of reciprocating the dog’s enthusiastic crotch-sniffing.
Jerric might get kicked out of the man-club for that!

“No, I whistled. I still don’t know any illusion magic.”
This was so perfect!

Jerric ran a skeleton arena in the Mages Guild basement!

A wonderful scene with Carahil. She is one of my favorite Guild Heads, no thanks to fan fics like yours and Haute's, that really put her in the spotlight like this.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Mar 30 2011, 08:37 PM

[Acadian]

“The lives of men are so fleeting, many of my kind cannot be bothered to know you. However, I find that the briefest fires burn the brightest.”

And there you have the paradox of an elf who measures her time in centuries, loving a human who measures his time in decades.
Looking back. . . I could have missed the pain, but then I would have had to miss the dance.
The advice I give my elf? If you get the chance to sit it out or dance, I hope you dance.

[Destri Melarg]

Wow. I have read this story twice now. You should add ‘writer’ to your list of accomplishments, Grits. I don’t really know what I was expecting, but this has been a revelation. When I last left Jerric he was an engaging Nord who spent most of his time in pursuit of his next forgotten evening. Now he is Jerric Lionheart, Hero of Kvatch and Knight Brother of the Blades. The wonder of this story is that all of this has occurred in the most natural and organic of ways. Jerric’s character has been revealed one complex layer at a time over the course of this story, and there appears to be un-mined depths that are still there waiting to be discovered. What you have accomplished here takes most writers years to learn (if they learn it at all).

I won’t single out every moment that I liked in this story because that would probably require a thread of its own. But I would like to talk about a few moments that really stood out:

The first was Jerric’s initial foray into the Deadlands. Panic drove him through that gate in search of a way to reach his family. I thought that allowing him to find courage in the hilt of a discarded sword was perfect! His fight with the dremora and his subsequent dousing in the blood fountain were handled with just the right blend of rage and horror. I was particularly touched by the unspoken conversation between Jerric and Menian in which the former offered his dagger to the latter through the bars of the cage. The power of that moment was undeniable!

The rousing battle to reclaim Castle Kvatch was another high point in this story, but to me it pales in the brilliant light cast by Jerric and Martin’s journey to Weynon Priory. We see the change in Jerric when he chastises the new Emperor and sets Martin’s mind to thoughts of an uncertain future. I loved how, amid this torrent of sadness that threatens to overwhelm him, Jerric is able to maintain his sense of humor enough to ask Martin if Jauffre will let him have the Amulet in the event of Martin’s death, just to prove his point that the Emperor of Tamriel is too important to lose chasing spriggans.

The love triangle that you have developed between Abiene, Jerric, and (D)arnand adds yet another dimension to this story. Abiene’s confusion and the depth of her feeling for Jerric could be chalked up to the tragedy that has befallen him, but somehow I doubt it. I get that she has a crush on (D)arnand, but it never really seems to move her with the urgency that matches her feelings toward Jerric. I think that her heart has already made up its mind, it’s just that her brain refuses to accept it.

Which brings me to the one thing that I feel the need to call you on: I appreciate and respect your desire to leave toes un-trodden, but I have no copyright protection on the name 'Arnand.' It is a common enough Breton name that it doesn’t strain credulity that two individuals born five centuries apart would share it. If I had been here when you made the change I would have advised you in the strongest words that the forum filters allow not to do it. Now I guess I will just have to get used to calling him Darnand (dammit). In the future please don’t concern yourself with such things. You imbue your characters with so much detail that their individuality is never a question. Your Matius, Maglir, Nerussa, and Carahil are the same character that everyone else gets to play with, but they are all unique as presented in Jerric’s story. I have no doubt that your Arnand and mine would share nothing save a name, a nationality, and (hopefully) three dimensions.

I have enjoyed every moment spent catching up on this story (twice). I salute you on a story well told, and I eagerly await the next update.

[mALX]

“The lives of men are so fleeting, many of my kind cannot be bothered to know you. However, I find that the briefest fires burn the brightest.”

My favorite line in the chapter. Jerric stills seems a bit disoriented, but is pulling himself back from the brink of madness and exhaustion that the deadlands took him to. Awesome Write (as always !!!)

[Grits]

haute ecole rider: I kept trying to get Jerric to thoroughly check out the Anvil FG’s double threat of Redguard hotness, but he would not cooperate! On their lowest levels I’m treating the guilds as kind of an employment office, I’m glad Jerric’s double membership works.

SubRosa: Yes, Jerric has some history with the FG and Rhano. His job took him back and forth between Kvatch and Anvil for years. The Rhano history that you spotted will come out in time, I'm glad you pointed it out. Carahil seemed so straight-laced in the game until her bitter rant about forgetting the little people. It’s been fun trying to figure her out. I’m glad you liked the skeleton arena idea. Pre-Dagon Jerric was a fun guy! More Arvena coming up next.

Acadian: We are in complete agreement here. (emoticon for shedding a tear for someone else’s bowgirl?)

Destri Melarg: I am amazed, honored, and skipping in circles over your comments. You read it twice! Even while you were away, you were the invisible reader that made me want to get it right. Thank you so much, Destri!

That moment with Menien in the Deadlands was one of the reasons I wanted to tell the whole story in the first place. I couldn’t just walk away from that.

I love that you pointed out the Amulet joke on Martin and Jerric’s off-road trip. The connection they made kept Jerric from just wandering away after they got to the priory, and finding his humor is what reminded him that there still is a Jerric. Of course he did wander off for awhile, but it’s a process. It almost hurts to write about their friendship, knowing that there is a big stone statue down the road. The ‘escort Martin’ bit can be handled in the game with a fast-travel, but for me it’s one of the most important parts of the story. That you described it as a brilliant light will stay with me.

You’re right on the mark with Abiene and Darnand, and Abiene and Jerric. The first relationship I think is a weak spot in my storytelling. She says she likes him, but I haven’t given her the chance to show it. I’m still looking for an opening in the story, it hasn’t felt right to work it in yet. Her confusion stems from heart vs. brain, you’re exactly right. Then she gave her lady parts a vote, and we’ve seen where that led! For the three of them, the story has really just started.

Thank you for the reassurance on the (D)arnand matter. That’s my insecurity coming out. Some things are so clear in my mind, I think I must have read them somewhere else. Then to find that I might have, yikes!!

mALX: For men and mer I think it must be a tiny bit like it is for humans and dogs, in terms of lifespan. We know they’re going to break our hearts, but we let ourselves fall in love anyway. I guess this analogy only makes sense to dog lovers!! You’re right about Jerric’s mental state. He’s still having unreal moments, sleep issues, but at the point where he can sometimes seem better, even to himself. It’s a little bit two steps forward and one step back.

What just happened: Jerric joined the Fighters Guild and picked up a contract. He stopped by the Mages Guild hall to talk to Carahil while he was in the neighborhood. He’s still there.


Chapter 10: Septims, Part 2

Jerric found Felen reading in his day room off the front hall. He paused to take in the sight of the nattily dressed Dunmer. Felen’s sculpted tower of charcoal hair gave him over a foot of additional height. All that blue velvet and gold braid, and never a drop or a crumb spilled on it, Jerric marveled. “Well met, Felen,” he said warmly.

Felen put down his book and stood, smiling up at him. “Jerric, it pleases me to see you. Observe, I have closed my book and placed it out of my reach. You have secured my full attention.”

Jerric smiled back. “Thanks. I lost my Journeyman seal. Carahil said I should ask you to evaluate me before I get a new one.”

“Easily done. Follow me.” Felen led him the three steps to his alchemy counter. He retrieved a jar and opened it, handing it over to Jerric with a flourish. “What do you make of this?”

Jerric looked in. A fine, gritty substance half filled the jar. It looked like sand that was made of translucent grey glass. “Never seen this stuff before, what is it?”

Felen raised his eyebrows and gestured eagerly with the lid. “You tell me.”

“Oh, a test.” Jerric stirred the sand with his fingertip. He sent his magicka cautiously into it, now aware of what he was doing. Its properties came to his mind the way taste and smell told him what spices were in a slice of pumpkin bread. “Well, I could use it to make a potion for resisting fire damage, or for an elemental frost shield. Or I could make a poison that would silence, or cause some frost damage. Don’t know what it’s called though.” He handed the jar back to Felen. “I guess Journeyman will still pay the rent.”

“It is salt from a frost atronach. Collection is quite risky, it is very rare.” Felen replaced the jar and retrieved an ornately carved wooden box. He opened it with a flutter of magicka and grey-green fingers. Jerric watched him select an enchanted seal and inscribe his name onto the blank end. He would use that end to mark the potions he made, and the emblem on the other end to show his rank when he made them. Felen handed the new seal to Jerric. “Congratulations, Associate. You now number among the experts in alchemy.” His expression looked slightly pained.

Jerric turned the seal in his hand, delighted. “Expert! What’s the problem, Felen? Sigrid thinks I’m a natural at alchemy.”

Felen shook his head and made a sound of disapproval. “I am afraid you will find my assessment less flattering. I suggest that you are a battlefield alchemist. Long hours of toil have made you an expert. Labor you undertook primarily to relieve your stunted magicka, I imagine. I see you do not disagree. A natural alchemist possesses a passion for detail, like a baker. All variables are considered, then precisely adjusted for the best result. You fling ingredients together with a casual disregard for technique. ‘Some’ is not an accepted unit of measurement. You are a cook, not a baker.” Felen patted him absently on the forearm. “I mean my counterpart in Kvatch no disrespect. Sigrid lacks only a few decades or so of my experience, but she is a fine instructor and alchemist in her own right.”

“Well,” Jerric replied archly, “Expert nonetheless.” He raised his new seal with a grin. “Now, can I help you cook up some potions?”

Felen chortled with amusement. “I can always use your delightfully titled ‘Tame the Volcano’ potion. You will find that you are now able to add dragon’s tongue for a stronger effect. There is a large supply down in the workroom. Happily, that potion is expected to be foul tasting and cloudy.”

“As long as the symbol appears on the vial, it’s a sellable potion,” Jerric pointed out amiably. “The rest is just aesthetics.”

“Indeed.” Felen’s expression looked slightly pained again. “Since these are intended for sale, I must remind you to refine the mixture until each potion fits into only one vial. We cannot expect our customers to drink from the alchemy apparatus, as your hapless patients undoubtedly have.”

“Battlefield alchemist. You said it yourself. I’ve never had someone complain about my technique while their life is bleeding out on the ground.”

Felen’s expression grew serious. “Apologies, Jerric. It seems more important to strive for perfection in the safety and comfort of one’s guild hall.”

“Don’t worry about it, Felen. Do you know I’ve been drinking my magicka potions out of an old water skin? Ha! Thought you’d like that. You’re right about everything you’ve said. I’ll be back later to make those fire shields. Right now the Fighters Guild has me on a critical rat killing mission.”

“Will you want the coin or credit?”

“Coin, please. I have bills to pay. Say, do you know where Arvena Thelas lives?”

“The Rat Lady, I certainly do. Oh my, Jerric, you cannot mean you are to kill Arvena’s pet rats! She does go on about them.”

“Pet rats? I don’t know, I’ll make sure I ask her. Who keeps rats for pets? Is she part goblin?”

Felen chortled again. “No indeed. Any explanation I might make will pale beside the experience of meeting the lady herself. Follow me to the door, I shall send you off in the correct direction.”

Jerric made his way through the morning crowds without turning any heads. He realized that without his Kvatch Wolf to identify him, he was just another Nord in a busy port town. The anonymity gave him some comfort.

Jerric’s knock was answered by a slim, well-dressed Dunmer woman. Her white hair was streaked with glistening strands of silver, and her bright red eyes gleamed in her narrow, turquoise face. Jerric thought she looked like some sort of living jewel. Although certainly a somewhat wrinkled jewel.

“Ahhh… You must be from the Fighters Guild,” she cooed. “Good. I have a problem. It has to do with the rats in my basement.”

“Yes ma’am. I’m Jerric.” He guessed that this must be the right place.

“That’s right. Rats, in my basement.” Her voice reached a higher pitch. “And something has been killing them! It’s horrible. My poor babies! You must do something! I don’t know what I’d do without them. Their little pink noses, their scaly little tails. Please, get to the basement and find out what’s happening!”

Jerric felt seized by Arvena’s sudden urgency. He pushed past her and headed around into the ground level room, guessing that the basement lay behind the only door there. He was right.

“Please, save my little rats!” Arvena’s anguished cry followed him down the stairs. An enraged snarl rose up to meet him. Agitated squeaks sounded a note only slightly higher than Arvena’s wail. Jerric briefly imagined Azzan holding his sides with laughter. Then he turned a corner, and his humor fled. The image of Azzan was replaced by one of Arvena with her throat torn out. She did indeed have rats scurrying about her basement, and she also had a mountain lion. The lion lunged back and forth between the terrified rats, seemingly unable to choose which one to eat.

Jerric didn’t think, he just drew his borrowed sword and went for the lion. “Shut the door!” he shouted up to Arvena. Her answering shriek was drowned out by a yowl from the big cat. When it turned, Jerric drove his blade in behind its shoulder, angling his body so he could take its fangs on his shield.

The lion dropped to the floor like a stone, leaving Jerric stunned at his own foolishness. His shield was at Morvayn’s, along with his armor and the rest of his gear. He had taken on a mountain lion without even the protection of his Woad. What was the expression, he tried to remember, it’s better to be lucky than good? He knelt and ran his hands regretfully over the dying lion. It looked sickly and weak, but still capable of mauling an elderly Dunmer lady. He wondered what could have brought it in out of the sunlight to die here underground.

Jerric cleaned the iron blade, then he took a look around the basement. Four rats appeared to be in comfortable residence there. He found their silver water bowls and food dishes near a large nest of rugs and chewed up cushions. He knelt down and held out a piece of cheese, hoping to coax the rats to him. They’re pets, just like Mojo, he told himself. And if they give me a disease… well, they won’t be the first.

The rats appeared to be unhurt, so he looked for the mountain lion entrance. He found it around a corner at the back of the basement, next to the rat privy. A large hole in the foundation had once been repaired with loose blocks, which were now moved aside. An area outside the foundation had been excavated and covered from above with loose boards. Daylight slanted down between the gaps. It appeared that someone had been using the opening to shovel rat droppings up into the yard behind Arvena’s house. Jerric could see that the lion had simply pushed through the boards to gain access to the basement. He headed back upstairs to report to Arvena.

The Rat Lady greeted him with wringing hands and a tragic expression. “Well, what have you found? Did you take care of my babies? What was going on down there?”

“Ma’am, do you have four pet rats?” Arvena nodded eagerly, and Jerric breathed a sigh of relief. The lion had looked hungry enough to have swallowed one whole. “Well, I found a mountain lion attack- uh, chasing them. Don’t worry, I killed it. The rats look fine.”

“A mountain lion?” Arvena’s voice began to climb the scales again. “In my basement? But… How? That’s not possible. But, it happened! What if there are more? What if it wasn’t alone? Where there’s one there will be more. Find Pinarus Inventius. He’s a hunter, and knows this area inside and out. He’ll know what to do.”

Jerric made sure she was finished answering her own questions before he spoke. “I think you should let me block up that opening, or get someone else to do it right away. Do you have someone who comes to clean? They might need to find another way to get the rat ski- that is to say, rat droppings outside.”

Arvena did not appear to have heard him. “Please, go find Pinarus, and those mountain lions!” She was wringing her hands so hard, he thought she might hurt herself.

“All right. I’m going to tell the Anvil Guard, too. In fact I’ll show them the lion. I bet they’ll wonder how it got inside the city.”

The city guardsmen Jerric passed in the street were able to direct him to the Inventius house, but none was willing to take responsibility for the animal Jerric had slung over his shoulders. He discovered that if anything garnered more attention on the streets of Anvil than his Kvatch Wolf, it was a dead mountain lion.

A sleepy-eyed, heavy-jowled Imperial answered Jerric’s knock at the Inventius house. “Yes?” the man asked with a remarkable lack of interest.

Jerric shifted his burden. “Uh, I’m a… I’m from the Fighters Guild. I went to kill some rats, but she had a mountain lion. In her basement. She said to talk to you.” The Imperial continued to stand there. “I’m Jerric,” he added.

“Pinarus Inventius,” the Imperial finally responded. “Hunter. Funny, it's always 'rats' for the new associates. Is it some initiation test or something?” Before Jerric could answer, the man waved him to the side. “Put that around back, I’ll deal with it. I have a contract with the city for such things. Although mountain lions… that’s odd. But if they’re around, I can find them.” Jerric walked to the rear of the Inventius house and eased the lion carcass to the ground. He looked around to discover that Pinarus had followed him. “Come with me,” the Imperial offered. “A hunt will do us good, and maybe make that old nut feel better.”

Jerric sighed and glanced down at himself. His Ma had been right about him, he decided. He never could make it through a full day without ruining a new shirt.