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

[SubRosa]

That you’re chasing daedra so you can eat their hearts, gain their power.
No, that is Buffy who eats their hearts! I did love these rumors flying around about Jerric Lionheart. I see Varel may not have a lion's heart, but he does indeed have a heart, seeing that he is willing to do the work on Jerric's gear for whatever he might have in his pockets.

“I shall take him to the procedure room.”
When a hot Altmer woman says this, well, it does bring up some interesting images!

Ahh, so that is the procedure? A clever idea, both showing that inexpert healing can lead to less than optimal restoration of the body, and how that can be fixed through surgery. I am with h.e.r. in that I imagine anesthetic spells would probably be common (and probably a good way to incapacitate people in combat!) Both as a local and as a general form (a simple Drain Fatigue would do that, so long as the effect was big enough). Likewise, do not forget the plethora of drugs which can do the same. IRL, people have been using poppies and the like for thousands of years as anesthetic for surgeries.

[Acadian]

I enjoyed the description and thoughts on repairing equipment and how it interfaced with the game. Nicely done!

Jerric wondered how he could hear them over his ringing hammer. Maybe Bosmer ears were big for a reason, he thought.
Ahem, Bosmer don't have big ears. They simply have small heads and bodies.

Darnand stared at him. “Lunch? It is just past ten bells.”
Well, Jerric (two fisted apple eater that he is) knows that the most important meal of the day is the next one!

The whole surgery scene was neat, and your descriptions rendered it very easy to clearly see the facility. And what better place than the MG at Anvil?

“What will be better?” asked Jerric.
Jerric, you took the words out of my mouth.

[mALX]

Of course, after these ominous words I was expecting anything:

Abiene has plans for him when he next passes through the mages guild hall. And she wants Darnand to watch.

GAAAAH !!! Abiene can't be planning on breaking the news to Darnand right in front of Jerric after he just went through surgery!

... (edited out several ridiculous and inane jokes regarding that scenario) ...

Jerric may have bluffed off a brave front to the others, but noticing every scent, sound, etc. in the room - that is nerves, and a touch of fear maybe.

Great Chapter, and Awesome Write (as always !!!)

[Grits]

haute ecole rider: All is revealed next! I’m glad you liked my treatment of Varel and Enilroth. After I enjoyed your winsome Enilroth (banging away with his wide grin), I found that mine was suddenly younger! And yay, sribbling!!

SubRosa: And I think it was Julian who calmly sliced up a daedra heart like a bell pepper! Varel will be looking for the rest of his payment, thus the admonition for Jerric to stay alive. But it was awfully nice of him to give Jerric his gear back in the meantime. When I wrote Carahil’s line, I did have a brief flash of her in long, black gloves holding various implements of discipline. Maybe she’s trying to tell us something!

Acadian: Jerric apologizes for possibly implying by extension that Buffy’s ears might be anything other than perfectly sized. I’m glad you liked the repair hammer explanation, it took a long time for that idea to bubble up to the surface!

mALX: You’re right, sitting still while someone cuts him is not one of Jerric’s practiced skills. Anyone but Abiene would probably not have gotten such cooperation from him. Thank you, mALX!!

Where we are: Abiene did a little slicing on Jerric, earning her ticket to Chorrol from Carahil. Now she is ready to enact the rest of her plan, with Darnand’s interested assistance. They’re still exactly where we left them.



Chapter 10: Septims, Part 6

Abiene continued to address Darnand. “Yanerion will be a powerful healer when he matures. In a short time by an Altmer’s way of thinking, he will be a candidate to study with Master Selvilo. Some mer would reserve the position for an Altmer over a Breton without even considering it. This past year that I’ve worked and waited for my chance has been the blink of an eye to Carahil. And after all, the time it takes to train us is the same. Yet the mer will still be practicing centuries after I am gone.”

Darnand’s voice came from behind Jerric. “That does not make it right.”

“No. And I do not accept it.”

“Carahil thinks highly of your skills as a trainer,” Darnand pointed out.

“That does not work in my favor. My students advance quickly.” She glanced down at Jerric. “Usually. The empathy that gives me an advantage in training will be a liability in surgery, in Carahil’s eyes. That’s why I had to show her I could cause some pain without hesitating. She thinks I won’t be able to practice this kind of healing, that training me will be a waste of time.”

“It would be better if you did not have to inflict pain,” Darnand remarked. “Surely there is a spell… Perhaps paralysis, reversed somehow. The patient would be able to move, but feel no pain. Combined with…” Darnand’s voice trailed away.

“I imagine that there is.” Abiene’s hands gently stroked Jerric’s shoulder. He had to bend his neck to see her face. Her eyes still looked over his head, and he doubted she realized what she was doing. “The healers at the temples use medicines as well as potions. There is much for me to learn there. I’ve never even cut into a person’s skin before today. I knew I could do it, but she’s right, it was hard.”

Jerric cleared his throat, still looking up at Abiene. “What will be better?” he repeated.

Abiene looked down and met Jerric’s gaze with a small smile. She took his face in her hands, smoothing the hair back from his forehead. Darnand stepped around to look over her shoulder. “This deep scar, here.” She ran her thumb along the crease that extended from his brow to his hairline. “I would like to try to improve it. There is no guarantee, and I might only make it worse.”

Jerric snorted. “How could you make it worse? Go ahead, get some practice.”

“Come this way.” She guided him up onto the high bed under the glowing stones. “Lie down, and tip your chin back. There, like that.” Now she was all business again. She positioned Darnand’s hands against his face while Jerric looked up at the ceiling. Jerric could feel that Darnand held some kind of cloth. To catch the blood, he realized. “This will take longer, I’m afraid,” Abiene told him. She took a nervous breath and glanced up at Darnand. Jerric couldn’t see what he did, but it made Abiene smile. She looked back at Jerric. “Close your eyes,” she told him softly. He felt more cloth against his eyelids and brow.

This time it burned for so long that his sweat beaded up and trickled down his sides. The cloth in Darnand’s hands got wet enough to feel cold against his skin. Abiene and Darnand murmured to each other until Jerric heard the knife clink down. Now Abiene’s hands on his face didn’t soothe the pain away. Instead it felt as if hot needles were piercing the open edges of the wound. He felt his knees drawing up against his will, and he clamped his hands over the edges of the bed to keep himself still. He heard Darnand’s quick intake of breath as the burning grew more intense. Jerric wondered what Darnand was seeing.

Finally the pain lessened abruptly. Abiene let out a breath, and drew a long, ragged breath in. The cloth was taken away, then wiped back over his skin. Jerric opened his eyes.

Abiene sagged against the table, and Darnand moved quickly around to catch her. Jerric sat up and swung his legs over the edge as Darnand eased her into the chair. Now Jerric could see the bloody knife lying on a metal tray at the head of the bed-table, surrounded by blood-soaked cloths. His eyes passed quickly over them on their way to Abiene.

She slumped in the chair, pale with exhaustion. Her face held triumph and oddly, defiance. Darnand stood before her, gripping her hands. Jerric could see them both in profile. Darnand stared down at her with respect in his face, and something else. They both look like they just won something, Jerric decided. He began to feel a little left out.

“Tell me,” Darnand said to her. There was a note in his voice that Jerric had never heard before.

Abiene’s dark eyes blazed up at Darnand. “You saw.”

“I want you to say it,” Darnand insisted. Jerric felt completely puzzled by their intensity.

Instead Abiene looked over at Jerric, and her face softened into a tired smile. “How do you feel?” she asked him.

“Fine,” Jerric told her. He reached up and rubbed his forehead. The skin felt smooth and pliable, as if there had never been a scar. He wiggled his eyebrows experimentally. “Better than fine. That wasn’t just a healing. What did you do?”

“That was a restoration,” she said. “I wasn’t sure that I could do it. I removed the damaged tissue, then I helped you grow new skin.”

“You did what?” Jerric didn’t understand.

Abiene began to look nervous. Darnand stepped over and picked up the tray. There was a strip of bloody flesh on it about the length and width of Jerric’s finger. “She removed the scar,” he explained. “There, that was it. Then she restored your skin. Not just with healing, but with true restoration.” Darnand put the tray down and retrieved Jerric’s shirt. “Look, this tear could be a cut that would be easily healed,” he explained excitedly. “Just place the edges together. But here the cloth is worn away, the fabric is gone. What Abiene did is re-weave the cloth, as if the threads had grown out new again from the edges. In your case, the difference is subtle, as the wound was only skin.” Darnand looked over at Abiene with what could only be pride. She gave him a quick nod of approval. Jerric realized that Darnand had not known what she was going to do, either. Darnand gave his attention back to Jerric. “It looked like it hurt.”

“Yeah, it hurt.” He pointed at the tray. “So that bit of meat there, that’s a piece of me?” He felt a little sick to his stomach. Darnand covered it again with a piece of reddened cloth.

Abiene stood and joined them. “Are you angry? I should have brought a mirror. The scar is gone, Jerric. It’s all new skin.” She glanced at Darnand and back at him, placing her palms lightly on his knees. “Imagine the possibilities. So many times I’ve had to heal over someone’s eye, because part of it was lost. Now I know I can restore it.” Her own eyes held a light that he found disquieting. He must have shown it, because her face filled with distress. “It’s not wrong, Jerric. Every part of your body knows how it’s supposed to be, complete. I didn’t impose my ideas on you, or change you. I used my power to make you whole again.”

“After you cut off a piece. I’m not angry. Well, a little. Yeah, I guess I’m angry. I just wish you would have told me first.” She started to turn away, blinking back tears. “No, it’s all right. I’ll get over it,” he told her quickly, reaching out to take her hands. He felt hurt in a way that he wanted to deny. “I trusted you, but you didn’t trust me,” he explained. The new distance between them was worse than the betrayal, he decided. He wanted to draw her into his arms, but her glance over at Darnand stopped him.

“We are both trusting you with this knowledge,” Darnand said solemnly. “This magic is far outside the bounds of the guild school of Restoration. It has more in common with necromancy than the way the Mages Guild teaches healing. This kind of power in the wrong hands could be devastating, but it is wrong to fear it. Only respect it, and use it correctly.”

Darnand’s words only made Jerric more uncomfortable. “How did you know about black soul gems?” he asked Darnand. “Gulitte had never heard of them.”

Now Darnand looked worried. “Black soul gems are used in necromancy, they are not widely known. I hope you will not mention them to anyone else. I stumbled across a reference in my research. I still have not learned how they are made.”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t say who told me about them.”

Abiene’s eyes were wide, fixed on Darnand. “Why are you studying necromancy?” she asked tightly.

“Please do not think I am seeking that kind of power. I believe there is a war coming that has nothing to do with daedra. Half of the Council of Mages resigned when Traven became Arch-Mage. Many others left with them. They did not just go join the Bakers Guild.”

“Great,” Jerric said, disgusted. “Dagon isn’t enough, now we have to worry about our own fetching mages?”

“Perhaps not,” said Darnand. “I would like to proceed with our plan. Necromancers have been driven to the shadows, but the daedric threat is upon us. I would not have chosen to bring this matter to your attention now, however it seemed preferable to letting you assume I have commenced a career in necromancy.”

Jerric looked down at Abiene’s hands in his, trying to get back to the present issue. She had wiped her fingers dry, but they were still reddened with his blood. “So if what you’re telling me is right, could you take this piece you cut off of me and grow another Jerric?” he asked.

Abiene gasped, obliviously sickened by the thought. Darnand nodded gravely. “In theory, though it would require unimaginable power,” Darnand replied. “And the creature would be akin to a flesh atronach, with no spirit of its own. You begin to see why this knowledge must have been concealed. Abiene has not created a new magic, she has rediscovered an old one.”

“Why did you try this on me?” Jerric asked quietly. He held on to Abiene’s hands, though she tried to pull away.

“Because she wanted to help you,” Darnand stated firmly.

Abiene stopped pulling, and Jerric saw the guilt in her eyes. “Because I knew you would forgive me,” she whispered.

Jerric quickly ducked his head, sliding off the high bed. If she wanted him to keep their secrets, he would have to leave the room immediately. There was no way Darnand would miss the hurt he knew must be written across his face, and no way either of them could explain it away. “I’ll catch up with you later, Darnand,” he said into his shirt, pulling it over his head. “I’ve got to see about a job this morning.” He didn’t look back at Abiene as he walked out the door.

This post has been edited by Grits: Apr 21 2011, 03:18 AM

[haute ecole rider]

Wow. Just wow. You had a lot going on in this chapter.

Not only the re-discovery (yes, I think it should be rediscovered an old one) of tissue restoration (a hot topic in RL medical research for the past ten years, I might add) is highlighted here. There is also a shifting in the relationships between the three.

Abiene chose Jerric to try her idea on not only because she felt safe with his trust, but also to challenge her own ability to deal with her empathy. Performing this kind of procedure without any kind of pain relief is hard, not just on the patient, but also on the empathic healer (which is why we veterinarians love our drugs - for the pets, not for us!). Yet she was afraid to trust him with her intentions, simply because her idea was so radical she thought his trust would fail.

Jerric was hurt that she didn't trust him with her intentions. Understandably so. Trust is based on communications that pass in both directions, not just in a single direction from one to another. Trust built upon one-way communication is plagued and shaken by doubt. That is the root of conflict between friends, and something that drives many of the best dramas. You made it very clear that her lack of faith in him hurt more than her ministrations did.

Darnand is beginning to see Abiene in a new light. Yes, he always cared about her, but I always got the sense it was as an older brother cares for his younger sister. But now, he is seeing her as a person, not just another short-lived human.

There's more, but I'll stop right here so others have something to comment on!

[mALX]

Abiene hasn't heard about getting the patient's permission before performing procedures on them, obviously. Then to drag in his best friend to watch and glory in HER discovery (or re-discovery) - oh yeah. And to top it all off, Jerric may have just realized where Abiene has been spending her nights in his absence.

Abiene may have just gotten her last late night rendezvous with Jerric. He may be able to forgive, but will he forget? That remains to be seen.

This chapter was powerful in description both physically and emotionally. AWESOME WRITE !!!

[SubRosa]

Abiene makes a good point about the real-world effects that beings with vastly different life-spans living side by side. This is something that Bethesda ignores completely, and most other games, and even fantasy authors. Consider enlistment terms in the army. Twenty years is nothing for an Altmer, but a huge chunk of a human's life. Every Altmer could serve in the legion, retire at forty and receive a pension (and possibly land) for the next four hundred years of their life. Or the flip-side. What age would Altmer be expected to start school in Summerset Isles? Twenty or thirty? And finish at eighty or ninety? A human would die before ever becoming an adult, by Altmer law.

I would like to try to improve it.
Yikes, that does not sound good!

I used my power to make you whole again
That concisely sums up what Restoration should be. I honestly never pictured it as anything else. Although now that you have me thinking about it, perhaps novice level spells like the heal minor wounds could not create new tissue, only do little things like close up old wounds? It is an interesting thought, and would mean a major reworking of how ES healing works. But it might make the setting feel richer, as one could not simply cast Heal Minor Wounds a hundred times and regrow their lost arm.

It looks like you might be planning on using Darnand in a future fic, dealing with the necromancers perhaps? Maybe Abiene as well? I have to say, this episode has been a relief simply because Abiene is doing something of substance. Until now she has simply been the stock girlfriend character that nearly every male action hero has. In Jerric's Story at least. It is nice to see her growing into a role beyond simply that, as she had in Abiene's Saturalia.



nits:
There was a strip of bloody flesh on the tray about the length and width of Jerric’s finger.
You should probably put this in the paragraph above it, where Darnand says “There, that was it." . So the reader knows what he is referring to.

Not exactly a nit, but rather than use the term "golem', perhaps Flesh Atronach might be better, as they are already a feature of the ES universe?

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Apr 21 2011, 02:42 AM

[Acadian]

I also enjoyed Abiene's take on the Altmer mage's advantage over the Breton mage based purely on lifespan.

Just a fascinating episode with such interesting ideas of healing on Nirn.

Half of the Council of Mages resigned when Traven became Arch-Mage. Many others left with them. They did not just go join the Bakers Guild.”
This was a perfect touch of levity in the midst of a tense episode.

Abiene stopped pulling, and Jerric saw the guilt in her eyes. “Because I knew you would forgive me,” she whispered.
Very, very powerful moment here. What a wonderful lead up to it you did.

Nit: “It would be better if you did not have to inflict pain.” Darnand remarked.
I recommend a comma instead of a period after pain to introduce the speech tag.

[ghastley]

Looks like Abiene and Jerric are both trying to walk the fine line between withholding information that they think will hurt, and trusting the other. And those topics are always impossible to discuss, and equally impossible not to.

Which all makes for a great story. Especially as you've got this working in multiple directions at once for Abiene, with Jerric, Darnand, and Carahil, on many different levels.

[Grits]

haute ecole rider: You absolutely got my intentions in this segment. The whole time I read your comments, I was saying, “Yes! Exactly! Yes!” It was a challenge to present what Abiene did here through Jerric’s somewhat bewildered eyes. What a thrill to see that it made some sense. Whew! And I changed it to “rediscovered,” thank you.

mALX: Wait, wait, Abiene has not been sleeping with Darnand. That intense moment between the two of them was Darnand getting his first glimpse of that part of her character and liking it, while she realized that Darnand had finally gotten the message that there is more to her. At the same time Jerric was sitting there rubbing his forehead in confusion, as you pointed out. All of the good things about her are still true, but Jerric has some thinking to do! Or not, we’ll have to see. I love your enthusiasm, mALX! Thank you so much!

SubRosa: The way I decided to look at regular healing was that the magicka heals the injury the way the body normally would only much faster, or almost instantly with a powerful enough spell. Jerric’s scars result from him incompletely healing himself to conserve magicka, letting the skin heal the rest of the way on its own. The game does give us Aelwin Merowald’s old injury. If he could have it healed some more, why wouldn’t he sell the Jewel of the Rumare and do it? I had a hard time finding lore about healing, so I went with this way to make the setting richer, as you said.

I would love to keep going after this story, there is a lot more tale to tell! And I sure don’t see Jerric as the Arch-Mage. I’ll have to see how I get along with Darnand. I’ve dumped most of what I’ve written for him, because his thinking is so linear and dry. Abiene is wonderful fun to write, but she is not someone who would go out adventuring. I switched that sentence you pointed out, it makes much more sense the way you put it. And flesh atronach, perfect! I haven’t played the SI yet, so I had to look it up. Thank you!

Acadian: Thank you for spotting that errant punctuation, I fixed it. I think there could be substance behind some of the racial tension in Tamriel, since the differences in things like lifespan would have real repercussions. Thank you for drawing attention to Abiene’s line. It took a long time to get to that moment! Your kind words are so encouraging.

ghastly: You’re right, Jerric and Abiene have reached a point where silences can’t really be comfortable, because they’re too full of what they’re not saying. Thanks for pointing out how complicated Abiene has made things for herself, including trying to conceal her intensions from Carahil.

Where we are: Abiene surprised the boys with her rediscovery of true restoration and some newly revealed facets of her character. Darnand surprised the other two with his theoretical knowledge of necromancy. Jerric ducked out to regain his composure.


Chapter 10: Septims, Part 7

Jerric stood on the street in front of the Mages Guild and Fighters Guild halls, weighing his options. Now that he had his weapons back he could talk to Azzan about his next contract. His grinding teeth and clenched fists told him that his mood was not ideal for his guild mates’ inevitable jesting. He needed to find Maelona and see if she would hire him for something. And he desperately wanted to head straight down to the waterfront and fight until he was exhausted or imprisoned.

The pretty Redguard woman, he decided. I’m unlikely to kill her.

He headed toward Westgate to look for Maelona, joining the stream of quickly moving folk in the middle of the street. Many of them were pages or messengers, or youngsters just starting their apprenticeships. They raced about their masters’ business at a pace that kept Jerric at an easy lope. Stretching out his legs always helped him clear his mind. By the time he reached the evergreen oak near the Dock Gate, he was ready to be civil.

Jerric looked up at the great tree as he approached. He thought that no matter how many times he saw it, his awe would never diminish. Like the other massive evergreen oaks throughout Anvil, this tree had already been large when the city was built around it. The parks and plazas were designed to take advantage of their shade in a hot climate. This old tree’s canopy reached a much greater width than height. Its thick, sinuous branches snaked out in all directions. Stone benches were built in a ring surrounding the raised center of its root mass. The branches hung out past the benches far enough to keep most of them in shade. Jerric immediately spotted a Redguard woman seated alone on one of the benches.

The woman wore her tightly curling hair trimmed close to her head in a style that set off her soft features. Her long green chemise was mostly covered by a felt tunic and overskirt in a becoming russet color. Her dark green cloak hung tucked behind her shoulders, leaving her arms free. Jerric noted that the cloak also served to highlight Maelona’s assets, rather than conceal them. She sat straight and composed on her bench with her hands folded in her lap. She looked up at Jerric’s approach.

“Hello there,” she said pleasantly.

“Hello. I’m Jerric.”

“My name is Maelona,” she told him.

“Pleased to meet you. My friend Rhano said you might need a job done.”

Maelona gave a sharp nod. Her expression became annoyed. “How would you like to get my husband, Gogan, out of hot water?”

“Sure.” She gestured to her side, and Jerric sat down next to her on the bench. “What’s he done?”

“Believe me, he’ll need all the help he can get to worm his way out of this one. To think he’d fall for the gang’s scheme…” She pounded her knees with her fists. “Agh! I could kill him!” Jerric guessed that she would get to the point eventually. “I’m sorry. I’m rambling, and you look confused. Let me explain. There’s a gang of women in Anvil preying on the town’s men. They use their wiles to lure men out to some remote location and rob them blind. It’s been going on for some time now. The city guard hasn’t done very much about it, because frankly, the men who are robbed are so embarrassed, they don’t want to report it. Take for example the good-for-nothing husband of mine, Gogan. He cared more about their charms than my own.”

Jerric decided that Gogan must be some kind of fool, considering the charms that Maelona obviously possessed. The thought was accompanied by the knowledge that it would be unprofessional to remark on that subject. He smiled and inwardly thanked Arvena for her teaching.

Maelona continued her tale. “When Gogan was, uh… with the women, they took something quite valuable from him. No, it’s not what you’re thinking. He was carrying a precious family heirloom with him when he was lured out to their lair. The ring I gave him on our wedding day. The ring belonged to my mother, and it has been in the family for generations. I’m willing to give you all of the money I have to get it back. One hundred gold. Can you help us?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll help.” He bit his tongue to keep from asking what she thought he assumed the valuable thing was. He didn’t have a clue, and his curiosity needled him.

“Thank you,” she said. Her tone sounded relieved. “I’m afraid I can’t offer you much help, but I’ll do what I can. All I can tell you is that the best place to start is at The Flowing Bowl. It’s a tavern located outside the city walls on the waterfront.”

“Yes ma’am, I know the Bowl.”

“The Flowing Bowl attracts the worst Anvil has to offer,” she remarked with disgust. Jerric couldn’t tell if her scathing glance over his person was meant to include him in her judgment. “Gogan may be able to give you more information beyond that.” She placed her hand on Jerric’s leg. “When you go to The Flowing Bowl, always be on your guard,” she warned him earnestly.

“Uh, I will,” Jerric assured her. Now what was I going to ask next, he wondered. She removed her hand from his thigh, and he remembered. “Where can I find Gogan?”

“At home, hiding his face.” Maelona scowled, and Jerric felt included once again in the disgrace of all men. “I’ll take you there.”

Jerric followed Maelona’s cloak as she swept through the crowded street, staying about one long step behind her. He noticed that she moved with an almost feline grace. She did not turn her head or speak to anyone that they passed on the street. Jerric kept his greetings to quick nods at familiar faces.

Maelona led him into a modest house a short distance away on the main street. “Gogan!” she called up the stairs as Jerric pushed the front door shut behind him. She indicated the doorway to the right of the entry hall. Jerric stepped into the room to await Gogan.

Jerric could see that this room served as the home’s only living space. Low armchairs upholstered in some swirling dark red pattern flanked the hearth. A small wood fire warmed the room. A round table with two chairs stood to one side of the doorway, and a line of cupboards and storage furniture filled the wall to the left. He guessed that this arrangement must be fairly typical of these small Westgate houses. He had never been inside one. Footsteps on the stairs made Jerric turn back toward the door where Maelona stood watching him.

A Redguard man walked into the room, frowning. His burgundy linen clothing placed him in the middle class, but told nothing of his occupation. “What do you want?” he asked abruptly.

“I’m told you might be able to give me some information about a scam some women are running in town,” Jerric said. “I’m Jerric,” he added.

Gogan’s frown darkened to a scowl. “I see my wife couldn’t keep her big mouth shut,” he spat. “Yes, it’s true. I lost the family ring to those sirens. I’m ashamed about the whole incident, but not ashamed enough to ask for your help.”

“Well, your wife has hired me,” Jerric told him calmly. “I’d like you to tell me what happened, so I guess I’m asking for your help.”

Gogan glared at Jerric for another moment, then he seemed come to a decision. He continued in a friendlier tone. “I was sitting in The Flowing Bowl when the most alluring Nord woman you’ve ever seen walked in with an equally attractive Imperial woman following. After we exchanged words, I followed them out to a farmhouse. It was the old Gweden farm, up on the ridge southeast of town. Inside, they asked me to remove my clothes, get comfortable. Well… I did… and then suddenly they brandished weapons and robbed me! They sent me away with barely a stitch of clothing! Harlots! Just please, help me get my ring back. I want to save what’s left of my marriage.”

Jerric took a closer look at Gogan. Something about the man’s smooth voice and proud bearing made Jerric suspect that they were not strangers. “Do I know you from somewhere?” Jerric asked. “You look familiar.”

“How should I know?” Gogan demanded irritably. “I don’t keep track of who you’ve met. You just look like a Nord to me.”

Jerric tried to imagine Gogan with a bloody nose and one eye swollen shut, but that didn’t help. Next he tried to picture him in an Anvil Guard’s uniform. He grinned with sudden and complete recognition. “You’re with the City Guard!” he exclaimed. “I knew I’d met you somewhere.”

“You’ve got the wrong fellow!” Gogan insisted.

“Oh hey, sweet lady of Wayrest,” Jerric belted out. “Oh hey, sweet lady of mine! Remember that? I sang it all the way to prison that night. Had it stuck in my head. Damned pirates!”

Maelona stood in the doorway, rolling her eyes. “For the love of Dibella, he must know you!” she cried. “Now please, no more singing!”

Gogan had the grace to look abashed. “I didn’t think you’d remember, you were a few sheets in the wind. And most people don’t see past the uniform,” he explained.

“I never forget an arresting officer,” Jerric told him. “It’s either a good experience or a bad one, not in between.”

Gogan’s face relaxed. “It’s the same when you’re on my side of the law. It’s a good arrest that doesn’t end in blood. Of course, you were bloody when I got there, but not enough to cost me extra ink and parchment.”

“Is he some kind of criminal?” Maelona asked Gogan.

“Just a drunk and a brawler,” Gogan assured her. “Nothing serious.” He turned his attention back to Jerric. “I’m working undercover now, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention to anyone that I’m with the Guard.”

Jerric chuckled and looked down at his boots. He decided that now even Arvena’s training would not help him make a favorable impression on this employer. Then he realized what wasn’t making sense to him. “Wait, if you’re in the City Guard, why don’t you just go over to the Bowl and arrest those women?” he asked.

“None of the victims will come forward,” Gogan explained. “They’re all married and too embarrassed or just too embarrassed.”

Jerric was getting more confused. “Why didn’t you just arrest them when they told you where to go? You must have guessed who they were when they told you to go all the way out to Gweden Farm.”

“I don’t expect you to understand the subtleties of law enforcement, Jerric,” Gogan snapped. “We’ll do it our way. You go to The Flowing Bowl to meet the women, then go out to Gweden Farm like they’ll say. We’ll follow you and arrest them. Will you help us, or not?”

Jerric saw Gogan and Maelona exchange a look, and some silent communication seemed to pass between them. Suspicion bloomed in his head. Maelona was clearly annoyed, but she did not seem like a wife who had been betrayed. Any woman in Jerric’s family would have been too busy killing her husband to care about the ring, he realized. “Are you two even married?” he demanded.

Maelona rolled her eyes again. “No, we’re partners,” Gogan admitted. “We’re both working undercover for the Anvil Guard. But you can still help us with the operation.”

Maelona turned to her partner and hooked a thumb at Jerric. “He’s not as dumb as he looks, you might as well tell him.”

Gogan grimaced. “All right, here’s what happened. The story I told you is true. I thought they were interested in me, and I fell for their scam. They got my wedding ring, or at least the ring we’re pretending with. It’s made of brass, not worth much. Night after night I’m stuck in here with this one.” He thrust his hand out to indicate Maelona. “Thin little nightdresses! Some kind of skin cream that smells so nice! I’m merely a man, with a man’s weakness. That Signy is the most attractive Nord I’ve ever seen. When those women tempted me, how could I resist? What a mess I’ve gotten myself into.”

Jerric decided that now was not the time to take exception to the remark about men’s weakness. He glanced at Maelona. She had her arms crossed over her lovely chest and an extremely irritated look on her face. “I know Signy,” Jerric said to Gogan. “If she’s the most attractive Nord woman you’ve ever seen, I don’t think you’ve seen enough Nord women. You need to get to a brothel, and quit picking up tramps in taverns. I don’t want to lecture you, but the guild is there for a reason. It’s safer for you and it’s better for them. But I guess you know that now.”

Gogan glared at Jerric again. “Let’s get back to the point. Word is getting out about the gang, and the town’s men aren’t fooled as easily. Now these women are demanding more from those of us they’ve already tricked, to keep what happened quiet. Blackmail. They got a valuable family heirloom from Heinrich Oaken-Hull, and I heard some poor fetcher crying in his beer that he had to give them one of his wedding gifts. Astia Inventius just reported her jade necklace stolen, and I’m sure Pinarus took it to keep those sirens quiet. Who knows what else they’ve gotten. It looks bad for the Guard when we can’t solve these ‘crimes.’ It has to stop, and I’m not letting it get out that they tricked me. The rest of the Guard would never let me hear the end of it. We’ll have to set them up.” He gave Jerric an assessing look, and his expression was not pleased. “You’ll have to do. They’re getting desperate, it might work. Do you have any jewelry, or at least a decent shirt?”

Jerric shook his head. “Signy saw me lose a bet at The Flowing Bowl last summer. She won’t think they can embarrass me to keep me quiet. She knows I don’t have any shame.”

“What did you do?” Maelona asked.

“What you don’t know won’t get me arrested. Let’s just say that… well, let’s not say anything. Anyway, I know someone else who would be perfect. Darnand Penoit. He’s a Breton mage, and he looks like money. They’ll be on him like slime on a mudcrab. I might need a day to convince him, though. Let’s do it tomorrow night.”

“We’ll meet you at Gweden Farm for the arrest,” Gogan agreed. “Tomorrow night.”

This post has been edited by Grits: Apr 24 2011, 01:56 AM

[haute ecole rider]

Well, looks like you punched way more holes in that swiss cheese plot than I did!

I liked that the two of them are 'just' partners. I had to laugh when Gogan was complaining about pretending to be married to one as fetching as Maelona.

And you're right, Signy is nothing next to Sigrid!

Oh, and it's intentions, not intensions.

This post has been edited by haute ecole rider: Apr 23 2011, 04:55 PM

[SubRosa]

A lovely description of the evergreen oak near the dock gate. What a perfect choice of tree for the hot Anvil climate.

How perfect for Jerric to have recognized Gogan as a city guardsman! And one who hauled him off to the drunk tank no less! That was the thing that never made sense to me about them being undercover. The only way for it to really work would be if they were complete strangers in the city, which neither he or Maelona are.

Any woman in Jerric’s family would have been too busy killing her husband to care about the ring
Not just his family!

I loved Jerric's point about the prostitute's guild. They must be putting a real crimp in the lifestyles of tavern tramps everywhere!

I get the feeling that Jerric is quite familiar with the Flowing Bowl. It seems like the just the sort of place a person who ran a skeleton arena would frequent! Given the untold story about him and Signy, I see my guess was right!


nits:
Jerric followed Maelona’s cloak as she swept through the crowded street, staying about one long step behind her. He noticed that she moved with an almost feline grace. She did not turn her head or speak to anyone that they passed on the street. Jerric kept his greetings to quick nods at familiar faces.
Maelona led him into a modest house a short distance away on the main street. “Gogan!” she called up the stairs as Jerric pushed the front door shut behind him. She indicated the doorway to the right of the entry hall. Jerric stepped into the room to await Gogan.
The hungry forum at the space between your paragraphs.

One thing you might want to reconsider in your plotting is that it might seem more plausible if Gogan had never been tempted by the sirens at all. Perhaps he tried to act as bait with Maelona waiting in the wings to swoop down and arrest the sirens. But they recognized him as a guardsman, and backed off without doing anything. So now Gogan and Maelona need to come up with another way to catch the sirens in the act. Hence using a sap hero like Jerric.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Apr 24 2011, 02:01 AM

[Acadian]

It's so fun to work a familiar quest into the story now and again! I'm looking forward to how Jerric does. I love his reasoned idea of tagging Darnand to be the 'mark'. That was a delightful twist!

Like SubRosa, I quite liked the detail you lavished on the oak, with its canopy of shade above and inviting benches below.

“Uh, I will,” Jerric assured her. Now what was I going to ask next, he wondered. She removed her hand from his thigh, and he remembered. “Where can I find Gogan?”
Perfect! Your intent here is crystal clear, but you deliver it without overstating.

Nit? It was the old Gwenden farm, up on the ridge southeast of town.
Although you can certainly change names if desired, the farm in the game is Gweden and I suspect that changing the name to Gwenden was unintentional. Subsequent to this passage, I noted three more mentions of Gwenden.

[mALX]

*

That intense moment between the two of them was Darnand getting his first glimpse of that part of her character and liking it

WOO HOO! Caught an eyeful of it, huh? ROFL !!!!! (JUST KIDDING!)


Nice twist on the Siren quest!!! And for Jerric to lecture Gogan about the "cathouses" rather than tramps in taverns in front of his "wife," ROFL !!!

They’ll be on him like slime on a mudcrab

ROFL !!! Great line !!!

Loved this chapter and how you have reshaped that quest, especially Jerric's helpful role in it !!! Awesome Write !!!!

*

[Grits]

haute ecole rider: This quest has never made sense to me! I’m still not sure from the game if they’re really married!

SubRosa: My first take on the quest was exactly that, Gogan never picked up a siren, so he needs new bait. Then there is the line from Faustina where she says, “I should have known after I fenced that stupid ring and discovered it was a fake. Worthless! All part of the guard’s plan I suppose.” And there are also the bizarre items in the basement to deal with. I don’t think the men would have brought their wedding gift urns and sliver vases along to hook up with some strange women. So I had Gogan fall for it to explain how they got his ring, then added blackmail for the presence of mysterious objects. Yeah, this quest doesn’t make a lot of sense!

Acadian: As many times as I have read that name, I would have bet my life that it was ‘Gwenden’! Thank you, I changed it. It will perhaps not be a shock that Jerric gets his difficulty with the printed word from me. I very much appreciate the help with nits, because they are often things I just don’t see. I like Anvil so much I decided to upgrade their trees. Otherwise you could probably bake bread on those benches in the summer!

mALX: I had to laugh at the lecture, too, coming from the biggest tavern tramp of them all. Thankfully he did not decide to back up his advice by sharing any personal experiences.

Where we are: Jerric made a plan with Gogan and Maelona to catch the sirens.


Chapter 10: Septims, Part 8

Jerric entered the mages guild hall kitchen through the back door. He caught Bertille’s eye, and she smiled at him. “You again!” called out Hjordhild. The burly Nord cook had surprisingly little sympathy for the metabolic needs of one of her own. “There’s three meals set out each day, sit yourself down for them. I can’t have my cooks running around stoking your dragon’s belly. Mid-day meal will be out at one of the afternoon watch. You can wait for it!”

“That’s nearly an hour away!” Jerric objected. Bertille wordlessly handed him a napkin-wrapped package. From the size and heft he guessed it contained at least two sandwiches. He winked his thanks at Bertille and grinned over at Hjordhild. “If I knew someone was offering to stroke my belly, I’d be here more often,” he declared.

Hjordhild coughed her wheezing laugh. “Out!” She waved her hand towel at Jerric. “See, if you feed them from the kitchen, they’ll just keep begging,” she told Bertille.

Bertille had gone back to cutting a pale yellow cheese into cubes. She tossed two at Jerric in rapid succession as he backed away, bumping against the corner of the long central counter. He caught them in his teeth and saluted the kitchen at large with his sandwiches, ducking through the door into the dining room. He got past Thaurron without conversing by pointing to his mouth, obviously chewing.

A few more steps and he had reached the basement stairs. He sighed inwardly as the familiar scents reached him. Alchemy, destruction magic, and conjuration all left their signatures in the air. It’s no wonder that some mages seek deserted towers and caves for their work, he decided. Smelling one’s own stench does not make the aroma of others any more agreeable. He grimaced as he swallowed a hint of fireball and zombie along with his bite of cheese.

He found Darnand seated on a tall stool at his work bench at the far end of the basement’s main room. Candles in sconces lined the walls, and tall candle holders stood ready at the sides of the tables. Jerric walked down the shadowy center aisle past mostly empty work spaces to the pool of light around Darnand’s area.

He dragged another stool over and sat across from Darnand, holding out a sandwich. “You ready to take a break?” Jerric asked. “You can skip going upstairs if you want, and help me enchant some things instead.”

Darnand brushed off his hands and reached for the sandwich. “An excellent notion.” He nodded at the clay pitcher standing next to his mortar and pestle. “The water in this pitcher is still just water.” Jerric picked it up and chased a bite of ham and bread with a swallow of water. “I am using that to rehydrate columbine root pulp,” Darnand remarked. “Please do not add too much of your lunch to my potions.”

“What are you making?”

“Guess.” Darnand took a bite of sandwich, watching him.

Jerric glanced around the table. When he saw the bowl of small seeds, he snorted. “That’s a waste of good lotus seeds. Folk should put on sweater if they’re cold, instead of drinking a potion.”

Darnand nodded. “Agreed, but Felen has an order from the castle. I expect it is drafty this time of year, and I am not going to tell the Countess that she is wearing inadequate stockings.”

“Sigrid would tell her. They need feather potions more than we need warm nobles. I guess I could walk up the coast some morning and see if I can find some more lotus plants. The seed pods are always full until they pop open in the spring, nothing eats them.” Jerric folded his sandwich in half as he stood, earning a raised eyebrow from Darnand. “I’ll fetch my gear. Be right back.”

He finished the last bite by the time he reached his storage cupboard. Darnand had cleared the table when he returned. Jerric put the larger pack down on the floor with a clank, and he set his daypack carefully on the table. “Let’s get the sigil stones out one at a time,” Jerric suggested. “I don’t know what will happen if we let them all roll around together.” He watched Darnand brush the crumbs off his hands and stand up, reaching gingerly into the pack. “Tell me what you think we should do. I know what I think, but you might have a better idea.”

Jerric watched Darnand he took his time reading the stones. Astonishment played across his face, then excitement, followed eventually by a grim intensity. Jerric relaxed, knowing that Darnand understood the stakes that they faced. This kind of power was not easily won, and the responsibility of wielding it to their best advantage weighed on Jerric. He felt relieved to have Darnand to advise him.

The vibrating stones began to set Jerric’s teeth on edge. He suspected that Darnand might be inclined to spend too much time studying them. Jerric wanted to get this part over with, before the few mages who were working here today returned from their lunch. “I have an idea,” Jerric started. “We have two of these stones bearing the same enchantment. Fire damage or resistance to fire. What if we enchanted something and sold it? I think we could make enough to get all the way to Chorrol and back, maybe farther. I have to admit, it’s hard to wait for the new spells. I feel like time is running out.”

Darnand’s expression was unreadable. “Take another look, Jerric.”

“What do you mean?”

“Read this one again. I know it is unpleasant, but trust me.”

Jerric placed his hand on the humming stone that Darnand retrieved for him. He sent his magicka cautiously into its swirling power. He could reach out almost naturally now, like listening for something. The fire damage enchantment came to his mind immediately, identical to another stone’s. He kept his hand in place, waiting. The other possibility rose up slowly in his mind. “Fire shield,” he breathed. “A powerful one.” He drew his hand back and stared at Darnand. “I would have missed it.”

“That shield enchantment will change everything. I was worried about how you will survive strikes from daedroth when your magicka is low from casting shock spells. This is it.” Darnand looked at him more closely. “Is there something in your eye?”

“What? No!” Jerric rubbed his fingers under his eyes. “Fire shield.” He couldn’t continue.

“I am afraid I do not know enough about armor to evaluate it further.”

“It’s nearly as strong as my Woad, and it will last. It would make my mail stronger than steel plate. That was my biggest problem. How am I going to run and dodge in heavy armor, if I can ever afford to buy it. With this I could… I’ll be able to take a blow and keep going in light armor, or none at all. I’ll still get broken bones, but not so many. And the dremora with swords probably can’t take off a limb with this enchantment. That’s always been a danger. Darnand, this could work.”

“I fail to grasp your meaning.”

“Our whole plan is nuts. Run up to a daedroth and touch it to death? It’s suicide. I might actually survive for a while with this.” Jerric shook his head. “And fire really hurts. Those fire towers are everywhere, and sometimes I have to stand in front of them and let myself get hit, hoping to get some magicka back. I’m good at healing myself, but it still hurts. Every time. Getting burned so much takes a lot out of me in the Deadlands. I mean, it wears on me. It’s just one more thing I have to push down and get through.” He smiled, and Darnand looked a little alarmed. “I’m going to get to kill a lot more of them now.”

Darnand cleared his throat. “What do you want to enchant with it?”

Jerric reached down and retrieved his helmet, placing it on the table with a clunk. “This helmet. It can go longer without repair than my shield. What else?”

“I found the one that will allow you to trap soul energy. I estimate the effect will last no more than twenty seconds.”

“Twenty seconds is plenty. Any longer sounds too much like a fair fight. I’m not in the honor business, just killing.”

“You will use it primarily against animals, and lesser daedra.”

“Well, twenty seconds is what I’ll have to work with, then. The animals that run away I’d rather not kill, and daedra will keep attacking.”

“You should not use this enchantment on your primary weapon. This is how you will recharge all of your equipment, so you cannot let it run out unless you have a soul gem already filled to recharge it. A bow would be ideal.”

Jerric shook his head. “I’m useless with a bow. A dagger, I’ll slash and then drop it, pick it up after the fight. I got one at Morvayn’s today, so we can go ahead and use this stone.”

“A dagger, are you sure? You will have to get in very close.” Jerric just looked at him. “All right, do you want to do it, or shall I?”

“Here you go,” Jerric told him, handing him the dagger. “I know you want to. Do you know what to do?”

“Hold them in my hands,” Darnand guessed. He closed his eyes, and Jerric watched a shudder run through his frame. The sigil stone moaned into dust, sifting away in a glittering rain. Magicka shimmered over the dagger. Darnand opened his eyes and handed it back. Jerric thought he looked a little pale.

Jerric unsheathed the dagger and showed it to Darnand. “Take a look at that. Don’t touch the blade.”

“I would rather touch a cobra.” Darnand took a look. “What does it say on the blade…? Your Soul Is Mine.” Darnand stared at Jerric, eyes wide in what looked like disbelief.

“Enilroth did it for me, for free. He said he’s glad he can go run around in the meadows again, now that the Gates are closed. Look at the script. That lad does beautiful work. So I hope you didn’t mess up, that’s a pretty bold statement if the enchantment doesn’t work.”

“I did not mess up. Shall I enchant your helm?”

Jerric handed him the helmet and nodded at the sigil stone. “Be careful, I don’t want to put it on and experience fire damage.”

Darnand held the two items in his hands and closed his eyes in concentration, swaying slightly as the sigil stone disintegrated. He handed Jerric the newly enchanted helmet while the magicka still glistened on it. “I do not know much about armor, but I believe I have seen this type of headwear on the Emperor’s own guards. Where did you acquire a Blade’s helm, Jerric?”

Jerric took the helmet back, cursing inwardly. He sincerely hoped that most folk did not have Darnand’s memory for detail. “I’ll thank you to keep that observation to yourself,” he said. “Now it’s a Nord’s helm. It’s the Helm of the Nord.” He looked closer at Darnand’s face in the dim light. “Are you all right?”

“I feel a bit…”

“I know. Try not to think about it. Anyway, you told me they aren’t really souls.”

“In a sigil stone, they might be. The more I read about daedric magic, the more I need to learn. That brings me to a subject we should discuss. Would you like to join me at a tavern?” Darnand gave Jerric wide, innocent eyes.

Jerric returned a narrow look. “After you tell me. I have a feeling I’m not going to like it.”

Darnand sighed and leaned against the table. “I have been reading about the daedric princes, and their worshippers here in Cyrodiil. This could take some time. Are you sure you would not like an ale?”

“Out with it. Sit down if your thin little mage legs can’t hold you. I can’t wait to hear how you stumbled across information on daedra worship while you were accidentally studying necromancy.”

Darnand glanced around cautiously before he continued. “The daedric cults have shrines throughout Cyrodiil. They are not illegal, but they are difficult to find. I have discovered the possible locations of several. I propose that we travel there and speak to the cultists. Learn how to summon their prince, and try it. I have read that they sometimes demand that tasks be undertaken on their behalf, but they have been known to grant powerful artifacts to mortals who earn their favor. I doubt I could attract one’s attention, but you…” Darnand gestured at Jerric, as if he needn’t explain further.

“I know, why don’t we start with Mehrunes Dagon. I have some business with him.”

“I am serious, Jerric. Besides, I have been unable to find any information about a possible Dagon shrine. And I am certain that I am not the only one looking.”

“Daedric cults. I don’t like it, but I think you’re right. I read a book while I was at… while I was away. Modern Heretics. I don’t want any part of most of the daedric princes, but there might be a few who will help us. Azura, maybe. Though I don’t know how we’ll find the time to go play around up in the Jeralls.”

“They will not help us. We might be able to earn their favor, that is the best we can hope for.”

“Their favor being some trinket we can use against Dagon. I get it. And if we find any more Gates, we can close them.”

Darnand did not look excited at that prospect. He leaned in, and his face became intense again. “I believe we could locate the shrine of Meridia somewhere west of Skingrad. The person I spoke with said she did not travel more than half of a day from the Gold Road to find it.”

“I don’t know, Darnand. I can walk a long way in half of a day.”

“Imagine that you are an elderly Imperial woman. Now how far can you walk?”

“That narrows it down,” Jerric agreed. He smiled in anticipation. “I have a friend who told me about a daedric shrine.” He grinned as amazement swept over Darnand’s features. “The shrine of Sanguine, up north of Skingrad. If the weather is clear, I bet I could find it.”

“You astonish me,” Darnand admitted.

“There’s more. Doomstones. What do you know about them?”

“Little. Please, enlighten me before your attempts to contain yourself cause you to rupture something.”

Jerric reached for the power Jone’s Stone had granted him. He was gratified to see the amazement renewed on Darnand’s face. “See? Or I guess you don’t. And I don’t even know one illusion spell. Look them up, I want to find some more if we can. Free power with no training. At least I think it’s free, I haven’t noticed anything bad happen to me.” He cringed at his careless remark. “Well, nothing lately.”

Darnand nodded. “I have a few sources already in mind. I infer that I need only locate the stones, as you have demonstrated familiarity with their use.”

Jerric picked up his helmet and watched his hands shimmer back into view. “Well, I got one to work, if that’s what you mean. The Jone Stone. I guess we’ll find out if I can use any others, or if you can.” As he turned the helm in his hands, the rest of his purpose in visiting Darnand returned to his mind. “Oh, I almost forgot. I got a job for us tomorrow night. Your part is easy. All you have to do is pick up a couple of sluts in a tavern and go back to their place. I’ll do the rest.”

He could not look more shocked if I just slapped him with a slaughterfish, Jerric thought. It took him a moment to decipher the cause.

“Ha!” Jerric laughed. “I’m not prostituting you, Darnand. It’s an undercover job for the Anvil Guard. I’ll tell you the rest tomorrow. Really, all you have to do is try to be friendly and agreeable.”

“I suppose I ought to trust you,” Darnand said. He did not look convinced.

“I suppose you ought,” Jerric imitated his haughty tone. “Or you could find us some work. Stendarr’s stick, I thought you’d be happy.”

Darnand gave Jerric a dour look. “This is happy,” he replied in a somber tone. Then a smile broke over his face like the dawn. He whacked Jerric on the shoulder with his open hand. “It is difficult to trick you, my friend. I have finally achieved it!” Darnand shook his fingers as if they stung. “I am pleased that we are about to embark upon our journey. It begins tomorrow night.”

Jerric laughed with Darnand. “Say, you should wear your jewelry, if I forget to tell you. That ring you always wear, let me take a look at it.”

Darnand pulled the ring from his finger and handed it to Jerric. “My signet ring,” he explained.

Jerric held the ring on his palm, reaching into the pack with his other hand. “You always wear it?”

“Always,” Darnand confirmed. “It is from my mother’s– What are you doing?”

Jerric’s stomach clenched as the power flowed through him. He handed the ring back to Darnand. “Now the next Altmer wench won’t take you down so easily.” He picked up his pack from the floor, shoving his helmet inside. Darnand stood looking stunned, holding his ring. “I need you alive, Darnand. Good thing you already had a nice ring. Now I wish I had something hideous to enchant for you. A big feathered hat, and you’d always have to wear it.”

Darnand’s face still held complete shock. “This will help me… an enchantment… resist magical…”

Jerric laughed and headed back down the aisle. “Well you’re acting like it’s cursed with paralysis. Take your time with those stones. I’ll catch up with you later,” he called back to his friend. “I have to get going, or I’ll miss my chance for another lunch at the Fighters Guild.”

This post has been edited by Grits: Apr 26 2011, 11:59 PM

[SubRosa]

Nice little touches that bring the Mages Guild alive. The kitchen, with it grumpy cook and helpful one, the dark study area, stinky magic in the air, and Jerric's observations on lotus seeds.

And fire really hurts.
As ever nothing escapes Jerric!

So first necromancy, now daedric cults. Darnand is certainly working hard to get his degree at evil magic school!

Your part is easy. All you have to do is pick up a couple of sluts in a tavern and go back to their place
Sign me up!

So Jerric is moving along with more of his preparations for the war against the Mythic Dawn and Dagon. I see Darnand has become the Microchip to his Punisher, being the go-to academic and mage there to figure things out and make gear for him. This is actually the sort of thing you might consider Abiene doing as well. It is what I meant about taking on a role of more significance, and doing things that can directly influence events, even if in a small way. I do not see her running around the woods smiting things with an absorb health spell (although it would be quite effective!), but she is a competent magician nonetheless, and could be doing background magic stuff.

[haute ecole rider]

What a delightful episode!

After a rash of chick flicks on this forum, it's so great to see male bonding here. It's my favorite part of testosterone fiction (my term for action flicks and war stories) since it allows me to see a side of men that women so seldom get to see. And it only happens with another guy that is trusted deeply by the protagonist.

I really enjoyed seeing Darnit Darnand and Jerric bonding over sigil stones. It makes me feel like a fly on the wall, sure, but I don't mind!

This is the sort of things that keep me hooked on testosterone fiction (as opposed to chick flicks) because that kind of sharing is so rare between men or from men in general - period. We women tend to be quick to share our insecurities with someone we trust, but it seems more difficult for a man to do the same thing. So when he does it with his closest buddy, or another man he trusts at the moment, I really enjoy eavesdropping on this sort of exchange because it's so precious.

And as Sage Rose pointed out, there are so many little things that make me smile, as the grumpy cook (is she really grumpy? Riiiight) and Jerric impatient to grab another lunch at the Fighter's Guild after just finishing the illicit one he charmed off of Bertille.

Your story remains as delightful as ever!

[mALX]

*


These three quoted lines show your awesome ability to set a scene visually:

The burly Nord cook had surprisingly little sympathy for the metabolic needs of one of her own. “There’s three meals set out each day, sit yourself down for them. I can’t have my cooks running around stoking your dragon’s belly. Mid-day meal will be out at one of the afternoon watch. You can wait for it!”

“That’s nearly an hour away!” Jerric objected.

He winked his thanks at Bertille and grinned over at Hjordhild. “If I knew someone was offering to stroke my belly, I’d be here more often,” he declared.

Hjordhild coughed her wheezing laugh. “Out!” She waved her hand towel at Jerric. “See, if you feed them from the kitchen, they’ll just keep begging,” she told Bertille.

First two quotes: With your talent for writing perfect dialogue that comes across as totally natural and believable - while moving the story forward with what appears to be ease. Your ability with dialogue borders on genius!!

see if I can find some more lotus plants. The seed pods are always full until they pop open in the spring, nothing eats them.”

Third quote: Your use of small details slipped into a scene add realism and immersion into your story - these little touches pop up throughout your story. They are a powerful tool that you are expert at using!

AWESOME WRITE !!! (As Always !!!)

“Oh, I almost forgot. I got a job for us tomorrow night. Your part is easy. All you have to do is pick up a couple of sluts in a tavern and go back to their place. I’ll do the rest.”

SPEW !!!

*

This post has been edited by mALX: Apr 27 2011, 06:02 PM

[Acadian]

I agree that this was great fun. Really well-written, full of nice little touches that bring things to life. Great job with the sigil stones. They make your teeth hurt! Nice helmet and handy dagger that the fellows made for Jerric.

sometimes I have to stand in front of them and let myself get hit, hoping to get some magicka back
I maintain that only crazy folk are cursed to born under the atronach. Jerric so delightfully fits this bill!

We may be in for some daedric shrine quests it seems. Keep looking for that marooned dragon shrine.

'Oh yeah, by the way, I need you to snag us a couple sluts tomorrow night. No worries, its sanctioned by the guard and I'll tell you everything you need to know.'

Delightful throughout!

[Grits]

SubRosa: Darnand was the go-to academic for Abiene, too. Now that she has achieved her personal goal of getting a ticket to Chorrol, we’ll have to see what she decides to do about Jerric. It would be interesting to see what would get her to run through the woods, smiting things! I appreciate your comments very much, as they make me re-examine how I think about things. It would be very easy to write Abiene as simply a recipient of Jerric’s affection. Thank you for standing up for her! Hopefully no one is keeping track of Darnand’s reading material. I don’t think Carahil would like it!

haute ecole rider: They all say that “Carahil runs a clean hall,” so it has been fun to write about it. It must be a good place to work and live. I’m with you about the buddy stuff, and so delighted that you pointed out their growing friendship. I thought that getting them out on the road would be fun, but getting them to the point where they’re ready has been even more rewarding. Thank you for your very encouraging words, haute!

mALX: Thank you so much, mALX! The kitchen scene was fun to write. The “couple of sluts” line popped up right when I thought I had finished that section, it was me who almost forgot!!

Acadian: Jerric has been the architect of many forehead-slapping moments, and admitting to getting hit by a fire tower on purpose must rank right at the top for nuttiness. I’m glad you enjoyed it! Darnand is learning that Jerric can be a tiring associate. Thank you for your kind words, Acadian!

Where we are: Jerric and Darnand used some sigil stones and made some plans over sandwiches in the Mages Guild basement.


Chapter 10: Septims, Part 9

Jerric moved past the dining room doorway as lightly as he could, hoping not to attract attention. He could hear Thaurron’s animated voice speaking over Gulitte’s low drone. He guessed that they were already at the table, and one of them must be talking to Abiene. The thought of her still brought a surge of confusion, so he wanted to keep the lid closed on that mental chest for awhile.

As he walked into the entry hall adjusting his sword belt, he glanced up to find her standing in the opposite doorway. She wore a brown dress now instead of her healer’s garb. Her face looked pale and worried. For an instant he thought how fragile she seemed, like a delicate shell. Her spirit always filled her the way light fills a room, spilling over into the darkness outside. Now she seemed impossibly remote.

He tried to keep his tone neutral. “Abiene.”

She stepped out into the hall, keeping her eyes on him and her hands pressed together. “I was wrong. I’m sorry.”

“No, you were right,” he told her. “I’ve already forgiven you.” He looked down and fussed with his belt some more, unnecessarily.

She reached out and placed her hand on his arm, stilling him. “You know what I mean, Jerric. Please don’t pretend otherwise.”

He looked down at her hand for a moment. “Yeah.”

“I broke something between us,” she continued softly. “I don’t know how to make it right.”

“You can’t. And I know you’re not good at doing nothing.” Jerric took her hand in his own. “Give me a little time, Abiene. I’m not going to toss you aside over one mistake. At least try to trust that.” His anger had gone, but there was still plenty of hurt. He knew it showed when he saw it reflected in her face. “Don’t miss lunch,” he said to change the subject. “You Bretons don’t carry enough meat on your bones.”

She gave him a little smile and reached up, sweeping crumbs from his shirt. “I see you didn’t miss it.”

He caught that hand too and brushed her knuckles quickly across his lips. Hope flared instantly in her eyes. “Just a little time,” he told her.

She gave his fingers a quick squeeze and turned away, not looking back as she passed through the receiving room and out of his sight.

Jerric trotted next door to the Fighters Guild hall. He paused in the dining room to give Mojo’s soft ears a thorough scratch. Mojo’s eyelids drooped with appreciation, and his panting warmed Jerric’s hands. The gods love a dog with sweet breath, thought Jerric.

His guild mates’ voices filled the large room from where they had gathered around the long table. Azzan sat at the head, Rufrius at the foot. Sten the Ugly, Vigdis, and Llensi Llaram sat along the far side of the table. He recognized Huurwen across from them from her short, armored back and her Bosmer ears, prominently visible over her cropped hair. It seemed that Rufrius and Huurwen still favored the same hair style, even to their choice of grey sweatband.

Jerric’s nose told him that the meal had been served, and he hadn’t missed it. With a final pat for Mojo, he ambled over and took the chair opposite Rhano. The mages guild benches aren’t made for folk wearing swords, he realized. The fighters guild hall was one of the few places where it was not impolite to dine while armed to the teeth.

The current topic of conversation was Rufrius. “What was going on in the swamp last night?” Sten asked him. “Sounded like you were wrestling with hogs in there.”

Rufrius leaned over and grabbed the water pitcher. “There was some grappling,” he admitted. “And a sow wouldn’t be too far off the mark, if you put her in a red dress. But I must remind you, a gentleman never tells.” Rufrius filled his cup and reached for Jerric’s, filling it without comment.

“Then I expect you’ll give us a full report,” Azzan remarked.

There’s definitely a Redguard in the kitchen, Jerric decided. Two platters of triangular fried dumplings were making their way along the far side of the table. He could tell by the garnishes that one kind contained spiced cabbage, the other a mixture of potatoes and minced meat. Rice and mushrooms rolled neatly in flatbread made rows on another platter. Rufrius handed him a bowl bristling with skewers of venison cubes and onion, fragrant with more spices. Jerric filled his plate and passed the bowl along, content for now to feast and listen.

At a pause in the conversation, Jerric glanced up and found Azzan’s eye on him. “You’ve been to Morvayn’s,” Azzan observed. “Are you ready for that contract?”

“Yeah.” Jerric took another blissful bite of juicy venison.

“Go talk to Norbert Lelles,” Azzan told him. “You know his shop down on the waterfront?”

“I know it.”

“Lelles Quality Merc-andise,” Vigdis remarked, cutting her eyes at Sten.

“How would you spell it?” Sten asked her.

“He’s been having problems with break-ins,” Azzan continued. “He’s hired us to put a stop to it.”

“Maybe it’s those thieving wolves,” Rhano smirked.

Rufrius reached over and gripped Jerric’s forearm. His swarthy, patrician features showed only deep concern. “If you suspect mountain lions, you must consult with Pinarus Inventius,” he said solemnly. “We could all learn a great deal from a man who hunts in heavy armor.”

“All right,” Jerric laughed ruefully. He decided that he should expect a ration of dreck to go along with his meals at this table. He glanced up at Rhano. “Do you have time for some training?”

“Say the word,” Rhano replied evenly. “Azzan tells me you have a scheme to spar with some daedra.”

“Yeah,” Jerric said, looking at his plate. He noticed that the table had fallen silent. “Darnand Penoit can summon what I need, and you can teach me how to do a better job killing it. I think we should use the summoning chamber at the mages guild, there will likely be some fire.”

Jerric glanced back at Rhano, then followed his gaze over to Azzan. “Do it,” Azzan said. “Rhano and the mage can work out the details of what’s owed.” He looked around the table at his fighters. “This may be something we implement for the rest of us. We could all use the experience. In case this crisis isn’t over.”

Nods and grim looks passed around the table. Jerric took the opportunity to shift a few more dumplings to his plate.

Llensi cleared her throat. “Vigdis, you’re in the swamp tonight. Rufrius raised the bar again. We’re expecting some entertainment.”

The conversation only deteriorated from that point, and Jerric finished his meal without further comment. He grabbed a couple of leftover dumplings for his daypack and filled his water skin before he departed.

Foot traffic was heavy along the waterfront. Jerric kept his elbows in and went with the flow until he reached Norbert Lelles’ store.

When he stepped inside, the proprietor himself greeted him. Jerric always thought that the Breton’s close-set eyes and slight upward squint gave him a somewhat addled look. He supposed that the spelling mistake on Norbert’s sign did not detract from his reputation as an affable idiot. “Greetings, Jerric! Welcome to Lelles Quality Merchandise. We have a wide range of goods to suit your needs. Oh, or perhaps you have something to report about your beach hut. So, what can I do for you?”

“Greetings,” Jerric replied. “No problem with the hut.” He lowered his voice for privacy, as there were several others crowding the store. “I’m here for the Fighters Guild. Azzan tells me you have been having some trouble with break-ins.”

Norbert did not seem to require discretion. “I’ve lost a great deal of merchandise over the last few months,” he announced to the room. “I keep replacing it, but they keep stealing it, new locks on the doors be damned! They always come at night, after I’ve gone to bed. Maybe a mage transports them inside! You can just stay in the shop overnight. See what’s happening. Arrest the thieves, or… You know.”

“Kill them?”

Norbert looked flustered. “Not in here, if you can help it. The mess, you know.”

“Right,” said Jerric. “What time do you go to bed?”

“Always before midnight,” Norbert told him firmly. “Early to bed, early to rise, good for bread, and baking pies.”

Jerric bit the inside of his cheek until he trusted his voice again. “I’ll come by around nine of the evening watch, after you’ve closed up. We’ll talk some more then.”

Norbert placed his finger beside his nose and gave an exaggerated wink. Jerric simply turned and fled.

This post has been edited by Grits: May 2 2011, 08:00 PM