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

[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

[SubRosa]

Darnand's reading material? Does he have a subscription to PlayElf as well?

Well we had the oligatory awkward moment between Abiene and Jerric. But not too bad really.

even to their choice of grey sweatband
Ewww, that always makes me think of a vulcan trying to disguise themselves.

“Then I expect you’ll give us a full report,” Azzan remarked.
Score one for Azzan! I am dying to find out what "the swamp" is now!

Was that pierogi I tasted for dinner? I just made kielbasa and kapusta myself!

“Lelles Quality Merc-andise,”
I always loved that little touch with the misspelled sign. Did Sten make the sign? After meeting Norbert, I do not think so. That guy clearly did not inherit the brains in his family!

[mALX]

Another great chapter showing the comeraderie around the Fighters Guild dining table !! I love what you have done to that room in the guild, and everytime I see it in the story (know I am in for a great treat) !!!


Here is my fave line, Jerric fighting to keep from bursting out laughing in front of Norbert and barely making it, lol. I had trouble myself, Norbert was hilarious in this episode !!! :

“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.

The awkwardness in meeting Abiene again was expected and understood - you did a first rate job portraying it !!!

Awesome Write and chapter, I loved this one !!!

[haute ecole rider]

Another delightful Jerric episode! I'm with SubRosa about the obligatory awkward moment, and no, it wasn't too bad at all. Jerric's got more class than his exterior and manners let on.

Enjoyed the conversation around the Fighters Guild table! And I'm dying to know about the 'swamp,' too! Does it have two guys, one named Hawkeye and the other named Trapper John, sitting around an illegal still?

And Norbert was just too funny! And I just about jumped out of my chair when you described Jerric's trick of keeping a straight face. About ten years ago I wrote a character who did just exactly that when he needed to keep a straight face himself! And he got teased for it by his best friend! And that character remains one of my favorites that I've written!

Please enlighten us as to what the 'swamp' is!

[Grits]

The swamp is the small bedroom off of the barracks on the first floor, the one with only one bed and a door. In the story, it is reserved for higher ranking guild members to use when they travel through, instead of giving them a bunk in the barracks. However, the resident Anvil guild members use it on an informal rotating basis for privacy. As Llensi put it (in Chapter 10.3), “you can imagine it is much in demand.” I’m afraid I’ve let my memories of rugby players past creep into the Anvil FG, the yuck factor is rising!!

This post has been edited by Grits: May 2 2011, 11:12 PM

[ghastley]

I had to search back, but it was explained in an earlier episode what "the swamp" is. Just not why it's called that. Consider that a request for enlightenment.

Norbert is perfect. As is Jerric's reaction.

[Grits]

After a small room has been used for physical activity, it tends to take on the elevated temperature, high humidity, and fecund odor one would find in a swamp.



They must use it for Bikram yoga, or maybe spinning class.

[mALX]

After a small room has been used for physical activity, it tends to take on the elevated temperature, high humidity, and fecund odor one would find in a swamp.



They must use it for Bikram yoga, or maybe spinning class.

ROFL !!!

[Acadian]

The thought of her still brought a surge of confusion, so he wanted to keep the lid closed on that mental chest for awhile.
We call it compartmentalizing. It is a very useful skill that seems to be primarily the domain of men. How wonderfully appropriate that Jerric would display it.

A poignant scene with Abiene. Nicely done!

Thanks for the great chow! Azzan puts on a good feed.

The swamp sounds great! Bring your own sock drawer.

Wonderfully rich details, from Jerric grabbing a handful of Mojo, to his observations on how Huurwen's haircut interfaced with her ears.

[Thomas Kaira]

Chapter 9 Part 3-

What a way to be welcomed back to Anvil! Redguard dumplings and clothing-in-the-buff! Such an exciting day!

Jerric is continuing to dwell on the Deadlands, it seems. I know, the loss of his family at Kvatch was a bitter blow, but he really needs to let his hair down. He was once so good at it, after all.

Quite a dramatic change in character he’s had, in all. An excellent way to nail home the point of how Kvatch was such a travesty for the Empire.

Chapter 9 Part 4-

Very relaxing, this one, and quite a nice, tender moment at the end.

Good to see Jerric gave Abiene a chance. Pushing away those who are close to you is a terrible mistake to make when you are in such a state as Jerric. I really didn’t want to see him make it.

Chapter 10 Part 1-

You’ve done it again! Another heart-warming segment here, and an excellent time to tell us a little more about Carahil!

She really does know her stuff. If only it were possible to perform silent casts in-game, that would have been an immense boon to the stealthy adventurer. Alas, we can only hint at such feats now, but you did a wonderful job with Carahil’s application here. Bravo!

Oh, and remind me not to make any more jokes about Slim Jim, either.

Erm… wait….

Chapter 10 Part 2-

Rats? Initiation? Naw…. Good way to ruin a perfectly good squeaker. I love me my squeakers!

At least she didn’t seem to mind the pillows!

Chapter 10 Part 3-

A most enjoyable dinner, and a great job telling the rest of the story in an interesting way.

I see you have reinvented the wheel of Speechcraft, too! Who needs that useless thing when we have NORDliness! Where are my three-foot platform shoes and pin-on ZZ-Top beard? I need some practice. Wear those; sneak up on someone in the dark, scream out “OOGLIE BOOGLIE SMOOGLEDAGOOGILIE!!!” and watch them jump higher than I am tall. Good times.

Chapter 10 Part 4-

Healers have a very interesting life in your tale. I would hazard a guess that Abiene gave into her temptations with Jerric one time, which if true, that would be an awkward, but rather touching start for their relationship.

Hope that Argonian gets well soon. Not like them to get ill, after all.

Chapter 10 Part 5-

Too bad about the Wolf cuirass, better hope it doesn’t cost too much to repair that.

Soooo… Jerric getting ready for a shot at Mehrune’s Razor? Were those hearts still beating and pumping blood? Or perhaps he was taking the idea of Nords liking their meat rare a bit too far?

Anyways, I wonder what’s going to happen now that Abiene has proved herself to Carahil, and the prying eyes are no longer prying?

----

I'm still working my way through, since I was a bit further behind than I would have liked, but I'm getting there.