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

[mALX]

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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 !!!!

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[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]

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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 !!!

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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.

[Grits]

SubRosa: Perogis and kapusta, I am so giving that food to the Nords! I was thinking samosas, I had the best Indian food that day for lunch. Somehow they made sour and spicy okra that is not slimy. And there was a dish of corn and mushrooms that was unbelievable. Anyway, for a long time I have thought that Hammerfell cuisine could be like really good Indian food.

mALX: I’m so glad you liked Norbert’s bit of nonsense, so sincerely delivered! He just took on a life of his own. I guess you can tell I like the Anvil FG, probably because they have a dog!

haute ecole rider: I used to work with a bunch of engineers. Our boss was a relentless tease, and he would have a joke going on and on before some of the guys got it. I always had to sit at the head of the conference table (Where everyone could see me, the only female. I am just now realizing this. Grr!) so I spent about nine years of meetings biting the inside of my cheek! Like your character probably does, I envy those who have a poker face!

ghastley: Thanks, ghastley!

Acadian: Compartmentalizing, exactly! And all of the leaky feelings somehow stay in. It’s a mystery. Huurwen is one wood elf who is not shy about her ears.
Bring your own sock drawer.

Thomas Kaira :Welcome back! The Nord persuasion wheel only has one wedge, coercion. I appreciate your comments very much. You have picked out some subtleties in Abiene’s behavior and made some interesting guesses/questions. Whether it’s OK to let his hair down will continue to be an issue for Jerric. After all, he practically had beer instead of blood.

Where we are: Jerric has gotten his assignment from Norbert Lelles. Now he has the afternoon and evening to fill.


Chapter 10: Septims, Part 10

Jerric stepped out of Norbert’s shop and looked along the bustling waterfront. He had some time to fill before he returned at nine bells of the evening watch. Men, mer, and tailed folk of all ages made a colorful river before him. The sounds from a tavern called to him from only a few paces away. The Flowing Bowl. He knew the drink would be as cheap as the women, and he could smell that something either broiled or bubbled over a fire. He rolled his shoulders and shook out his arms in anticipation. Beer and a brawl, that’s what he wanted. To lose himself for a few hours.

His palm found Redeemer’s hilt in the gesture that now served to ground him. Knight Brother of the Blades, he told himself. Go train, fool.

He collected Rhano, a sandwich, his gear, and Darnand. The two men eyed each other warily when he made the introductions. They made their way through the mages guild hall basement and down a dark passage to the summoning chamber.

They entered the dark room by the light of Darnand’s spell. Jerric closed the door and locked it behind him while Darnand walked around the walls, lighting the candles in their sconces. This room hadn’t been used since the summer’s skeleton games, Felen had told them. Jerric watched Darnand for a moment, admiring his control with the flame. Jerric would have spent most of each candle in lighting it. Then he glanced at Rhano. The Redguard looked increasingly uncomfortable.

“All stone,” Jerric said to him. “Nothing to burn if a fireball goes astray, and no wooden posts to shatter and bring the ceiling down. If things get out of hand. We’re not even under the guild hall anymore.”

The vaulted ceiling was high enough to allow headroom for something taller than a frost atronach, and the room was wide enough for eight men to stand across with arms outstretched, fingertip to fingertip. Still, Jerric could see that Rhano was uneasy.

“Maybe we should do this in a meadow,” Rhano said. “Or on the beach.”

Jerric handed Rhano his mages guild key. “Hold on to this for me, will you? It opens the door.” The flickering candlelight now reached across the square room as Darnand approached them. “I don’t like it down here either, but I have to fight these fetchers inside towers. I’ll walk off a space I should stay within.” He gave Rhano a bland look. “Of course, you can quit now, if you wish.”

Darnand reached them, cutting off whatever reply Rhano would have made. “I shall summon a dremora Caitiff,” Darnand said briskly. “He should be armed with a mace and shield, and he will use lightning against you. He cannot summon any lesser daedra.”

“The ones that still give me trouble carry swords, and wear helmets,” said Jerric. “Some can even summon atronachs to fight with them.”

“They would be Kynval, at the least. There is a spell that summons Markynaz, the Dremora Lords. It is a master-level summoning. I cannot do it.” Darnand rubbed his hand over his mouth. “I shall attempt to force my Caitiff to bring a sword. Their armor and weapons are all bound daedra, I might be able influence his choice.”

“Where do these things come from?” Rhano asked.

“The Void,” said Darnand. “We bring them back from the banishment that is their temporary death. We need not fear that they will somehow betray our intentions.”

Rhano nodded thoughtfully. Jerric realized he hadn’t thought of that.

“Is their armor the same?” Rhano asked.

“Yeah. I’m going to go in with my dagger. That way I’ll know I can use destruction spells on touch, and the summoning will last longer. I’ll still go for the weak spots, though. It’ll be like sparring. Only it will be trying to kill me.”

“You’ll never use a sword against them?”

“Well, yeah. Especially when I need more magicka.”

“Then we’ll train with your sword. Train how you’re going to fight, Jerric.”

“But—”

“I know how an enchanted weapon works. If it needs recharging before we’re through, tough. When you see a dremora, your hand will reach for the blade you’ve trained with. You can be killed in the time it takes to think it through. Are you done moaning? Then let’s get some practice.” Rhano gave Darnand a hard look. “I’ll stand in front of you, mage, in case it attacks us. Stay to the rear on my left. Send the thing back to the Void if I signal.”

Jerric watched Darnand’s reaction carefully. This was no time for a pissing contest. “I would advise you not to draw your sword unless I lose control of it,” Darnand said to Rhano evenly. “It will help me confine its attacks to Jerric. How will I know your signal?”

“You’ll know.”

Darnand took his position and watched for Jerric’s nod. The distinctive sound of a daedric summoning sent a shiver down Jerric’s neck. Red mist dissipated, revealing a dremora Caitiff towering between Darnand and Jerric. Its breath made a sound like a bear’s. Darnand cursed softly in the moment of silence that followed. When it raised its mace, candlelight glittered over its armor.

Jerric waited to see what it would do. His blood roared for him to charge in, but experience let him stay back.

The Caitiff stepped forward and swung his mace downward at Jerric’s shoulder. Jerric slid to his right, dodging the mace. Redeemer reached out and pricked the Caitiff’s knee. Magicka flowed up his sword arm, and Jerric sent a spark of lightning from his shield hand as he danced back. The dremora countered with a crackling bolt of shock energy. It drove Jerric back two steps, staggered with the pain.

He recovered his footing quickly, keeping his knees slightly bent. The mace came down at his head this time. He stepped to the side, slipping around behind the Caitiff’s mace. Redeemer flicked through the back of the other knee, and the magicka let Jerric cast a healing spell as he circled. This time the Caitiff’s shock spell sank into his chest. Its enraged howl made him smile. His first rush of fury gone, Jerric settled in for the fight.

The Caitiff continued its lumbering attacks, swinging the heavy mace from the shoulder or whipping it across from the elbow. Jerric kept avoiding them, countering with stabs at the weak points in its armor. The Caitiff landed a few glancing blows on Jerric’s Wolf shield and armored thighs, but each time he recovered. Finally it pointed its mace at him and roared as the spell sent him back to the Void. Jerric stood panting in the sudden silence.

Rhano stood grim-faced beside Darnand. “What do you think?” Jerric asked Rhano.

Rhano took a moment to answer. “I don’t see any bad habits.”

“I guess that’s why I’m not dead yet.”

“Master Daron trained you?”

“Yeah, after he left the guild.” They stood for a moment in silence, remembering Kvatch’s cantankerous old blade trainer.

“You’re quicker to recover your balance, not so sloppy,” Rhano said.

“I’ve had some practice. In the last… what, eleven years?”

“I have some drills in mind, but I’m confident that you have the advantage over this foe.”

“I have to be able to fight two at once,” Jerric said. “Sometimes three.”

Rhano’s expression didn’t change. “We have some work to do.”

Jerric stepped back into place. At his nod, Darnand brought back the Caitiff.

He lost track of how many times he sent the Caitiff back to Oblivion, and how many times it fought until the spell lifted. He only knew that healing himself was costing him all of his magicka. Redeemer needed recharging. And after the first time he absorbed the Caitiff’s shock spell, it stopped using them.

The Caitiff howled its frustration as the spell carried him away again. Jerric sheathed his sword and turned to Darnand, catching his breath.

“All right, I’m out of magicka. I just need enough for an emergency. Hit me with some frost.” Jerric spread his arms and braced himself.

“What are you talking about?” asked Darnand. They both ignored Rhano’s incredulous stare.

“A frost spell. Go ahead and toss one at me, frost hurts less when I don’t absorb it.” Jerric shifted his feet. “Ready.”

“Have you any potions?”

“Would I ask you to attack me if I did? I have a job tonight, I might need them.”

Darnand gave Jerric his patient look. “Then I might suggest a healing spell. In the event that you do not absorb it, you might benefit from the healing.”

“A healing spell! All these years, and I’ve never thought of it. I’m so glad you have that Breton brain. Yeah, a healing spell!” he grinned at Darnand, feeling giddy. “Any time, my friend.” He thumped his chest. “A healing spell. Ha ha!”

Darnand’s face held the smallest smile. “I shall cast the spell at you from a distance, rather than using contact. The effect if you do not absorb it will be the same as a potion, undirected healing. It costs more magicka to cast this way, which means more for you to absorb.”

“All right. I don’t have anything that needs to be stitched up or moved back where it should go.” He smiled as he watched Darnand go through his motions. White light swirled over him, and he felt the soothing rush of healing. Darnand sighed, and Rhano looked up at the ceiling. “Sorry,” Jerric said. Darnand tried again.

This time it worked, and Jerric felt enough magicka to fuel at least two of his lightning spells. Darnand’s lips twisted in a wry smile. “Now we must wait. I must allow my own magicka to replenish.”

“Are you out?”

“No, but I wish to have a larger reserve, in the event of something unexpected.” Darnand glanced over at Rhano. “May I offer you anything? Food or drink?”

Jerric silently applauded Darnand’s instincts. If Rhano felt like a guest, he would be far more tractable. Jerric knew it, but it took Darnand’s remark to remind him.

“No, thank you,” Rhano replied. He put down his shield and stood at ease. Jerric did the same. Darnand walked over to the pile of gear at the door and returned with Jerric’s water skin. Jerric took a long drink.

“How did you two meet?” Darnand asked Rhano.

“Our fathers were partners, the story goes all the way back to Skyrim,” Rhano told him. “They set up shop at either end of their first freight route, Anvil to Kvatch. Growing up, we rode the caravans to visit during holidays and school breaks, at least until Jerric quit school. They sent me up to Kvatch some summers. Jerric and his cousins came here for others.”

“We were a sight,” Jerric said. “One brown Redguard in the middle of a pack of sunburned Nords.” He nodded at Rhano. “You were the thorn in the flower garden.”

“I was the wolf in the dog pile,” said Rhano.

Jerric laughed. “You were the—”

“Regardless,” Rhano interrupted, “That all ended when we were fifteen. Jerric met an older girl in Kvatch.”

“Sandrine,” Jerric said wistfully.

“Breton,” Rhano remarked. “Jerric’s always had a thing for Breton women.”

“It’s because they’re won’t laugh at Little Jerric,” Jerric explained with a grin. “Not like Nord women.”

Darnand ignored him. “You were saying?” he asked Rhano.

“Sandrine,” Rhano continued. “I never met her. To hear Jerric talk she was Dibella incarnate. She gave him his first tumble, then she told him he knocked her up.”

Jerric saw that he had Darnand’s sudden and complete attention. “What did you do?” Darnand asked.

“Asked her to marry me, of course. I wouldn’t have planned it that way, but children are a blessing whenever they might come to you.”

“You were ready to become a father at the age of fifteen?” Darnand was clearly astonished.

“Ready? No. But I wasn’t afraid. There were kids underfoot my whole life, I knew my family would just pull up a few more chairs at the table. There were plenty of parents around to show us what to do.”

“Too bad it didn’t work out that way,” said Rhano.

“Yeah,” Jerric agreed. He took another pull from his water skin.

“What happened?” Darnand asked.

“Turns out her family had some kind of High Rock pretensions,” Jerric told him. “I guess you can’t swing a rat up there without hitting nobility. Anyway, they weren’t happy. Her brother said some things that couldn’t be ignored, and I beat him pretty bad. Sandrine got mad, started screaming at me. Said the kid wasn’t mine, she only lay with me because I was dumb enough to fall for it.”

“Which was true,” Rhano pointed out. “And you were dumb enough to want to take care of her.”

“It was true, but it didn’t exactly calm me down. Or her father, and he took a swing at her. I ended up beating her father, her brother, and some fellow I think was her cousin.” Jerric shook his head. “I’d have half killed the milkman if he’d have shown up at that moment. I was a kid myself, didn’t really think what I was doing. Anyway, when I got out of prison, I just walked straight down to Anvil.”

Rhano picked up the story. “Mother and Fa took him in. Mother always called him her Nord son anyway.”

“I called her Mother,” Jerric told Darnand. “You only get one Ma.”

“What did you call Rhano’s father?” asked Darnand.

Jerric and Rhano shared a look. “Sir.”

Now Rhano shook his head, remembering. “That was a hell of a thing Sandrine did. Most lads would have been relieved, but this one mourned like he’d lost his best friend.”

“Like I’d lost a child,” Jerric said. “It felt like I’d lost one.”

“Why did you leave Kvatch? Was your family angry with you?” Darnand asked.

“Yeah, but they stood by me anyway. It was easier for it all to blow over with me away for a while. I still worked the caravans, just from this end for a couple of years. I saw them often, but the neighbors didn’t have to see much of me.” Jerric grinned at Rhano. “We had some good times.”

Darnand looked between the two of them. “What happened?”

Jerric saw Rhano’s expression darken. “If you want to know, you should ask the mage,” Rhano growled.

“Battlemage,” Jerric spit back. “Superstitious Redguard.” He felt the tension and old resentment fill the silence between them.

Rhano was the one who broke it. “We were going to take on the world,” he said quietly. The lad was still there under the hard planes of his face.

“What do you think we’re doing?” Jerric dropped his water skin by the door. He picked up his shield and walked back to the middle of the chamber. “Come on,” he said to Rhano. “While we’re waiting.”

“Let’s see what you can do with that katana.” Rhano stalked out to join him, drawing his sword.

This post has been edited by Grits: May 6 2011, 10:17 PM

[SubRosa]

Beer and a brawl, that’s what he wanted.
Jerric the bad boy. No wonder Abiene wants him rather than Darnand!

Rhino Rhano makes another appearance as well I see. A little claustrophobic it seems. Not to mention the inbred Redguard distrust and distaste for magic.

I was glad to see Rhano's point about training with his sword, rather than the knife. Absolutely true. The whole point behind training is so that the repetition builds muscle memory. Then in time your body will just do it without you having to consciously think it through.

The other dimension to this is that Jerric is training against something that he does not have to worry about killing. That he in fact wants to kill, just like when it's for real. One thing that always makes me roll my eyes are movies where you see training scenes where people use real weapons against one another. What they are training themselves to do is hold back, and not kill their opponents when it is real. Unless of course someone dies every sparring session...

Granted, Jerric could just spar with someone else using wooden/blunted weapons... But in this case, I can see the point of doing it against a summoned Daedra. He wants to practice against not only a swordsman, but against an actual Daedra as well.

And we see the madness that the Atronach birthsign inspires. Hit me with a spell so I can recharge some magicka! I have to confess, I did exactly that with my one atronach character.

“Jerric’s always had a thing for Breton women.”
I think we have seen that already...

So now we finally get the full story between Rhano and Jerric. I must say, that was not only very rich, but quite inspired. Yet there is still more waiting to be coaxed out I see. Good! It is better to reveal such things a little at a time, rather than all at once. It builds anticipation as we wonder what happened.


nits:
We need not fear that they will somehow betray our intensions.”
That is intentions.

[Acadian]

Men, mer, and tailed folk of all ages made a colorful river before him.
I love this way of referring to Argonians and Khajiit! So much more elegant than beast folk. I hope you don't mind if I borrow the phrase!

He knew the drink would be as cheap as the women,
Living near Las Vegas, I see many such taverns. They often bear a sign outside proclaiming 'Hot Slots and Cold Beer!' Of course, I've never been inside, but I imagine maybe it refers to gambling devices?

Darnand gave Jerric his patient look. “Then I might suggest a healing spell. In the event that you do not absorb it, you might benefit from the healing.”
Talk about a face palm moment! No wonder those Bretons are so smart!

And some wonderful training with a touch of history regarding Rhano and Jerric!

This post has been edited by Acadian: May 7 2011, 01:37 AM

[D.Foxy]

Now, I've just seen "Thor". Why do I keep thinking "Jerric" whever Chris Hemsworth's face flashes before my eyes?



Interesting characterization of Jerric - but one which I have found to be true IRL. Nearly all men who are 'dads' are born that way, and they do not run screaming from the responsibility of a child if they are fifteen or fifty. Men who are NOT born 'dads' (Examples are easy: 7 out of 10 Hollywood Hunks ) will never parent well no matter how old they get.

Good work on the movement. One thing you and other writers may want to think about, though, is the concept of the "shock absorber". You want your body to bend with the shock of contact so that the shock is spread out over several milliseconds, but you don't want it to be too supple so that your body will swing out of balance, or even so supple that it will be flung away until bone and tendon bring it to a jarring stop (which is what happens to the head when a knockout is made). I know this defensive tactic is not easy to write, but perhaps you might try?

But y'all keep up the good work, mah Grits! You and Trey are mah type of peeps...