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

[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...

[mALX]

“I guess you can’t swing a rat up there without hitting nobility..."

ROFL !!! Love that line !!!

"I ended up beating her father, her brother, and some fellow I think was her cousin.”

Very Jerric statement, ROFL !!! That so fits what you have shown us of his personality !!


The tidbit into the background story between Rhano and Jerric was interesting and really well done. This is like Paul Harvey, I'll be on the edge of my seat waiting for ... the rest of the story ...


Awesome Write !!!!

[Captain Hammer]

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

“Battlemage,” Jerric spit back. “Superstitious Redguard.”

Come on, even Rhano should know the difference between the two. One's a wimpy, tall, stick figure of a guy with no endurance or strength to speak of, and laughably easy to club into submission. Or taken out with an arrow.

The other, particularly your high level Dremora and Marauder Battlemage, is a difficult enemy with freakish skill, unfair stats, and tougher to crack than a walnut encased in a diamond. Bad enough they wear armor, but the jerks know how to use it as well. And they're not slouches in melee, either.

Unless you've successfully managed to achieve game-breaker status with appropriate equipment. Then it's a cruise either way.

But I digress. It's taken me a while to catch up after falling so far behind, so allow me to squeak by with just this: wow!

Jerric's continued evolution as a real man (a man badly in need of extra pants, 'cause every man could use a spare pair of pants) in a real world continues to impress me. He loves, he suffers, he gets himself into the first case of cosmetic surgery on Tamriel, and develops better fighting skills for his continuing mission to close gates. He ties himself to the two organizations that, properly plied, could help slow the Mythic Dawn's progress. He doesn't blunder around aimlessly, and for all his talk of a Breton having all the brains, Jerric has a very keen way of thinking, even if he does overlook the obvious now and again.

[Grits]

SubRosa: I’m glad the training plan made some sense. In the game it’s easy to pick up daedric armor, but in the story that would just be silly. The other option would be fighting someone in conjured armor and trying to not kill them, which as you pointed out wouldn’t be as effective. Plus, I couldn’t see anyone agreeing to do it! I have really enjoyed the aspect that the Atronach birthsign brings to the game, at least before alchemy provides endless magicka. Thank you for your wonderful words about the Rhano story. It’s a small part of this story that I’d like to write a book about!

Acadian: I’ve seen “tailed” used in several places, I wish I had thought of it myself. It would suit Buffy’s sensibilities far better than “beast”! Jerric does tend to charge along a few steps ahead of his brain. I’m sure this won’t be his last face palm!

D. Foxy: Where did Jerric get that hammer?! I’m so glad that Jerric’s reaction to possibly becoming a teen dad worked for you. As you pointed out, it had everything to do with his character. The temperament that he was born with, fostered by his family’s support.

I re-worked the tussle in this section thinking more about footing, balance, and absorbing contact. And what happens when things go wrong with the above. There’s also the ES shield spell element, so it was interesting to think about! Thank you so much for your tactical input!! Soon I will have to tackle bows. There is an archer character impatiently waiting for me to get my act together.

mALX: I knew better than to say “swing a cat” with this crowd!! That day at Sandrine’s house, he sure found his temper! If Jerric and Rhano were women, they’d probably sit down and rehash their entire history in one sitting. These two just won’t do that! They should get some more time to hang out together, though. If they cooperate.

Captain Hammer: Welcome back! I’m so glad you’re still with us. I like the way you described Jerric’s evolution, it means a lot that you can see him growing. Thank you for pointing out his way of thinking. He’s not in the habit of questioning his assumptions, but he has no shortage of ideas. It will be fun to see what happens when the big-brained Breton makes a mistake.

Where we are: Jerric spent the afternoon training with Darnand and Rhano. Now he has a contract to fulfill.



Chapter 10: Septims part 11

Norbert Lelles opened the rear entrance of his shop and stepped back inside, allowing room for Jerric to duck his head and enter. “Good luck!” Norbert said cheerfully. “I’m going to wait at The Flowing Bowl until this mess is settled. I know I can trust you to keep the place safe. ‘Bye!” He pulled the door shut behind him as he left, and Jerric heard the lock click.

“Wait!” Jerric called. “You should go out the front in case they’re watching!” So much for further instructions, he thought. He tried the door just in case.

“Dammit,” he muttered. The front entrance proved to be locked, too.

The fire in the fireplace had burned low, but Jerric didn’t want to light any candles. Better that the shop look like it usually did after Lelles had gone to bed, he thought. A long sales counter divided the main floor’s single open space from the front wall inside the doorway almost all of the way to the back. The space was laid out for shoppers, not fighting. Jerric saw the stairs tucked behind the counter and headed up to look around. The windowless ground floor already seemed short of air. He had a fleeting impulse to execute his exit strategy as soon as he made it.

Both upstairs bedchambers had windows he could open, but he doubted he could make it through them in a hurry. He decided that either one would work if he had the time to angle and squeeze, so he thumped back down the stairs to make his plan.

He doubted that a mage was “conjuring” the thieves inside. They were most likely using one of the doors. That meant unlocking it, either with a key or a spell. Probably leaving it unlocked while they burgled the place, he decided. That door would be his first choice of exit. Still, locked inside a wooden building was no place to use a fireball. He reminded himself to definitely not summon his scamp.

He would use frost, if it was necessary. He drew his katana and ran through some drills, testing the space. There was room on the sales floor for one person to get behind him while he fought another. Then again, he might use that space to get around an attacker and out the open door, whichever door they came in.

He had plenty of time to doubt his decision. If he stood on the narrower merchant’s side of the counter he could stay concealed until the burglar entered, then step behind him and block the unlocked door. At that point he could declare himself and make the arrest, or otherwise. Of course it would only work if they came in through the back door.

He stepped behind the counter and looked around from this vantage point. His view to the rear door was unobstructed. You might as well try to hide a brown bear behind a lavender bush, he thought. He took a position on the wider side of the counter.

He guessed he had at least a couple of hours before Norbert’s midnight bedtime. He looked longingly at the shelves filled with books. Not enough light to read by, and he had already decided not to use a candle. Should have asked Darnand about that light spell, he thought. Or maybe Abiene can teach me. If I can keep my hands off of her long enough.

Years of standing watch on the caravan trail had trained him to stay awake and limber. He kept his eyes away from the fire’s embers and waited.

The sound of a key in the back door brought him back to full attention. They have to come in before I can catch them, Jerric thought. He called forth his Woad and ducked down behind the counter.

Shuffling noises and the smell of cabbage cooked with onions reached him. He heard a torch flare to life, and the light cast a shadow over the counter. Jerric waited until he heard the door close before he stood to declare himself.

“Stop right there, criminal scum!” Jerric’s mild amusement evaporated when he saw his opponents. Two mer and a Nord stood arrayed by height inside the back door, looking surprised. The Bosmer in front looked the way he expected a thief to look. A Dunmer stood behind him holding a torch, and a Nord was visible behind the Dunmer. From what he could see of the last two, they looked like fighters. The Dunmer tossed his torch into the fireplace, his teeth gleaming in his dusky face.

Jerric didn’t have time to finish his arresting officer speech. Instead he let his katana’s voice join the song of blades being drawn. Even the Bosmer thief produced a dagger.

The Nord at the back of the group was the first to speak. “Looks like we got a live one.”

The Bosmer in front silently raised his dagger, pale eyes wide in the gloom. Jerric quickly reached out and flicked the tip of his katana through his throat. The mer staggered sideways against the end of the counter, gurgling. His dagger hit the floorboards with a clatter. It took an instant for Jerric to realize what he had done. Maybe the Bosmer wasn’t even attacking, he thought belatedly.

The Dunmer started to step past the falling Bosmer, holding his claymore vertically to get past the counter. Jerric’s blast of frost knocked him back a step. The Nord moved to the side, and Jerric brought his shield back up.

“Lay down your arms or join your friend,” Jerric said. The Bosmer punctuated his statement by slumping the rest of the way to the floor.

The Nord answered by casting a spell that shimmered over Jerric like a shroud. His contact with his magicka was severed as neatly as his sense of smell was when he dove under water. Dread tightened Jerric’s gut, and his mind seemed to freeze.

The Dunmer straightened and smiled, his bloody teeth as red as his eyes. Frost glittered on his cheek in the torchlight. The Nord lumbered down the merchant’s side of the counter and began climbing over it. His face also bore a predatory grin. Then he muttered a word and disappeared from sight.

I’m fetched, thought Jerric.

He ran back to the alcove that led to the front door. At least there they couldn’t get behind him. When he turned, the Dunmer was on him.

Leather armor like the Nord, Jerric noted. Probably reinforced with metal underneath. He heard the Nord’s feet hit the floor behind the Dunmer. This is going to be quick, he thought.

Jerric knew he had just enough room to work in the alcove’s entrance, if he kept his feet. He turned his shield to the Dunmer, leaving his middle open. He took the chance that the Dunmer would fall for it. He slid his foot back, balancing for a lunge.

The Dunmer made his first thrust straight at Jerric’s open middle. Jerric pinned the claymore against the frame of the open doorway with his shield. He brought his sword down across the mer’s extended arms, hoping the Nord couldn’t reach him yet. The Dunmer fell back with a shriek, his claymore hitting the floor with a hollow ring. Jerric stepped back into position, waiting for the Nord.

A board creaked loudly in front of Jerric, audible over the Dunmer’s swearing. Jerric raised his shield and ducked under it, slashing where he hoped the Nord’s legs would be.

He felt a hard jolt in the middle of his chest, and he slammed back against the door. His dazed vision picked out the Nord’s longsword lying on the floor, crossed over the claymore. I can’t believe it, Jerric thought. The recoil from the shield spells, he wasn’t expecting it.

He pushed himself off the door and stepped over the swords. Muttered curses guided him. He dropped his weight lower and charged forward behind his shield until he made solid contact. He didn’t get the chance to bring his sword up. His shield wrenched his arm to the side, then pulled him down to his knees. A deep growl sounded an instant before something struck Jerric hard on the chin. Jerric found himself on his back, his thoughts scattered. Surprise had pushed the breath from his lungs, and now something tight around his throat kept him from getting it back. He vaguely realized that in support of the invisible Nord, the Dunmer beside him on the floor was kicking him. Jerric discovered that his right hand was empty.

He reached down for his dagger and found the Nord’s forearm with it. He dragged it upward along the bone as hot blood soaked his shirt. The Nord howled and let go. Jerric thrashed free of him. He sucked in a painful breath and rolled onto the Dunmer, scrambling to his feet. Something seized his shoulder, and a cloud of cabbage and onion wafted into his face. Magicka surged through his arm and into the unreachable well inside him. Jerric reached up and plunged the dagger into the heart of the cabbage breath. The Nord blinked into sight, then crashed backward with Jerric’s dagger protruding from his mouth.

That fetcher used his Frost on me, Jerric realized. He turned around.

The Dunmer was back on his feet, blood streaming down his dangling hands. The katana wasn’t made for chopping, but Jerric guessed that he must have done some real damage anyway. “If I see a ghost, you’re dead,” Jerric told him. The Dunmer stopped his muttering. “They’ll splint your arms in prison. Or we could just make this your end.”

The Dunmer gave him a single nod. Jerric decided that meant he surrendered. He picked up his katana and slung his Wolf shield over his back, feeling for his magicka.

Still silenced. Never again without a dispel potion, he thought. His regrets increased when he remembered the ring in his pocket. Enchanted to detect the life energy of any creature, including the invisible. Double damn.

A knock on the shop’s front door made them both jump.

“That you, Burrus?” Jerric called, keeping his eyes on the mer. He had informed the night patrol that they might have an arrest to make. “Go around back, this door’s locked.”

Turning the Dunmer over to a member of the Anvil Guard was the easiest part of the night. Jerric stepped into The Flowing Bowl, looking for Norbert.

A blood-drenched Nord with a sword in his hand gets attention even at midnight in a dive bar, Jerric discovered. “Peace,” he said to the room at large. “I want Lelles.” Weapons began to go back into concealment.

Norbert catapulted to the front of the crowd, doubtlessly assisted by the hands of others. Stark terror filled his face for a moment. Then he closed his eyes in relief. “Jerric,” he said. Then he brightened. “Were you able to take care of my problem with break-ins?”

Jerric was momentarily at a loss for words. Eventually he came up with a reply that was not peppered with expletives. “Yeah. Two dead, one in Guard custody. I’ll go back over there with you. I left my dagger in the Nord.”

Back in the shop, Jerric cleaned his blades while Norbert assessed the situation. Burrus had already left with the Dunmer. Norbert examined the remaining two. “You’ve gotten them! Wonderful! But… these men are familiar to me. Both of these men have worked for me! Amazing… I even trusted them to open up the shop in the mornings. I can’t imagine what turned them to a life of crime. Sad. Well, I’ll speak to Azzan in the morning, and make the rest of the payment.”

“Better change the locks again,” Jerric suggested. Breathing through his mouth only made him think he was tasting death instead of smelling it. He decided that unless he was asked, he would leave disposal of the bodies up to Lelles and the Guard.

“Indeed! Perhaps I should supervise the locksmith this time,” Norbert replied. His face lit up with a cheery smile as Jerric opened the door onto the waterfront. “Take care!” Norbert called after him.

Jerric made his way through the staggering sailors, dockworkers, and harlots toward the Anvil Dock Gate. I’ll just head home for now, he decided. Stow my gear at the guild hall tomorrow.

He took some time reviewing his performance. First he forgot about the enchanted ring. That was just thick-headed. He never had it when he stood guard before, and that made him overlook it. He had already kicked himself over not carrying a potion to dispel a curse against his magicka. That was a lesson he almost didn’t live to learn. He had chopped with his katana instead of slashing at the Dunmer’s leg or middle, clearly he needed more time with his newest blade. Even without magicka to fuel its enchantment, he would have been better off with Redeemer. Finally, he had forgotten that with Jone’s gift, he could have turned himself invisible.

Most distressing, he had killed the Bosmer without even thinking. He was not one who counted his kills, either to brag or to later regret them. But he had treated a startled thief like some murderous bandit or daedra.

It’s done, he told himself. Think no more about it. He stopped and glanced up, finally realizing where his feet had taken him.

The mages guild hall. Dammit. He was still no closer to his bed.

Perhaps someone would still be awake. He reached for his keys, exhaustion giving way to hope.

[mALX]

Holy Cow, what a fight !!

A blood-drenched Nord with a sword in his hand gets attention even at midnight in a dive bar, Jerric discovered. "Peace," he said to the room at large. "I want Lelles." Weapons began to go back into concealment.

ROFL !! You could have been writing about ETN !!! Loved that line !!

Most distressing, he had killed the Bosmer without even thinking. He was not one who counted his kills, either to brag or to later regret them. But he had treated a startled thief like some murderous bandit or daedra.

It's done, he told himself. Think no more about it. He stopped and glanced up, finally realizing where his feet had taken him.

The mages guild hall. Dammit. He was still no closer to his bed.

Perhaps someone would still be awake. He reached for his keys, exhaustion giving way to hope.

Powerful ending!! AWESOME WRITE !!!

[Acadian]

What a great presentation of this quest!

'Norbert Lelles opened the rear entrance of his shop and stepped back inside, allowing room for Jerric to duck his head and enter.'
Such an unobtrusive yet effectively welcome reminder of Jerric's size.

Fabulous how you shared Jerric's thinking with us as he planned for a confrontation.

'The Nord answered by casting a spell that shimmered over Jerric like a shroud. His contact with his magicka was severed as neatly as his sense of smell was when he dove under water.'
And a beautiful description of Jerric falling under the effects of having his magic silenced disabled by his foe.

'“Indeed! Perhaps I should supervise the locksmith this time,” Norbert replied.'
Doh! So that's why even though Norbert has had the locks changed several times, those pesky thieves still got in. The locksmith was in on it!

'He took some time reviewing his performance. First he forgot about the enchanted ring. That was just thick-headed. He never had it when he stood guard before, and that made him overlook it. He had already kicked himself over not carrying a potion to dispel a curse against his magicka. That was a lesson he almost didn’t live to learn. He had chopped with his katana instead of slashing at the Dunmer’s leg or middle, clearly he needed more time with his newest blade. Even without magicka to fuel its enchantment, he would have been better off with Redeemer. Finally, he had forgotten that with Jone’s gift, he could have turned himself invisible.'
Just as Jerric planned before the fight, he evaluated his own performance after. I'm so glad he noted the value of his ring and carrying dispel potions!

[haute ecole rider]

Except for Norbert, I always considered this quest as boring. Booooring. But you made it fun, exciting and interesting!

In addition to what has already been noted, may I add this:

He had a fleeting impulse to execute his exit strategy as soon as he made it.

Still, locked inside a wooden building was no place to use a fireball. He reminded himself to definitely not summon his scamp.

Now that's some smart thinkin' I suppose Jerric is the exception to the rule about blonds!

Or maybe Abiene can teach me. If I can keep my hands off of her long enough.

Like that's gonna happen!

I’m fetched, thought Jerric.

What a wonderful TES-friendly use of a common expletive!

And I can not tell you how many times I've forgotten about a particular potion, spell scroll, enchanted gear, or spell that could've been useful in a given situation until after the dust settled! Then it's facepalm time!

[SubRosa]

Jerric's thoughts of strategy, and even taking the time to practice a little with his sword to see just how much room he had to fight in, were good touches. It shows what a professional he has become. At least when it comes to fighting.

You might as well try to hide a brown bear behind a lavender bush
This was a wonderful little saying.

“Stop right there, criminal scum!”
I suppose Jerric has heard that so many times from the City Guard and Legion that it has become ingrained upon him!

A quick and dirty fight, as most RL sword battles were. Jerric turning over a criminal to the Guard, now that had a to be a surprise of for both of them! (as usually Jerric is the one being hauled away to the drunk tank!).

Never again without a dispel potion
Yep, the age-old lesson. That, and Jerric's other musings after the fight show that same growing professionalism I mentioned before.