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

[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.

[Grits]

mALX: The entrance into The Flowing Bowl was a little tribute to all of those cowboy-walks-into-bar scenes in movies, glad you enjoyed it! Thank you for pointing out the ending.

Acadian: Now the purpose of my Silence question comes to light. Since that discussion, various Markynaz have been giving us lessons on how not to use Dispel. For example, right after you’ve fortified your magicka and summoned an ally. D’oh! I’m still not entirely sure how things went wrong the last time, field-testing theories in the Deadlands can get frantic.

haute ecole rider: I agree about this quest, it’s mostly wait, wait wait. Snore. Or when I tried it with my first character fresh out of the Imperial Prison: wait, wait, die. I’m glad you enjoyed Jerric’s spin on it. Triple facepalm, nice!!

SubRosa: Thank you for noticing Jerric’s growing professionalism. He’s seldom had to make a plan on his own. Couldn’t resist giving him that criminal scum line, even though it put him at risk of arresting himself!

Where we are: Jerric had a late night busting thieves for Lelles. Also: if you wonder what Jerric’s beach hut looks like, it’s the Imperial City Waterfront shack plus a couple of windows. We’re pretending it’s in Anvil.



Chapter 10: Septims, Part 12


Jerric lay with Abiene in his arms, feeling exceptionally pleased with himself. He looked down at her flushed face, watching her breathing return to normal. She reached up and placed a languid hand against his cheek. He held it there with his own.

“That was…” she whispered.

“Mmm hmm,” he said, smiling. “That’s what happens when you come to see me in the morning.” When he kissed her palm, her shoulders twitched in response. Too soon to touch her again, he decided. “Who’s Vidkun?” he asked without thinking.

Her cheeks flamed from pink to crimson, and she hurriedly pulled herself out from under him. “I--”

“Whoa, no, don’t be upset! I’m not. You didn’t exactly have your wits about you when you said it. I just wondered is all.”

Abiene scooted up and curled against the headboard. She hid her face behind her knees. “Jerric--”

“Forget I mentioned it. Stendarr’s stones, I’m an idiot.” He sat up and cradled her against his side, leaning back against the wall. “I can’t believe what comes out of my mouth sometimes,” he said apologetically.

“I can’t believe it, either,” Abiene mumbled. She stayed curled into a ball with his arm wrapped around her.

Jerric decided that if the roles were reversed, he would be embarrassed too. Still, he couldn’t leave it alone. “It’s just… Well, it sounds like a Nord’s name.”

“It is.” Abiene turned toward him until her forehead rested against his chest. Her words tickled when she spoke. “I’ll tell you in a moment. I’m still trying to die of shame.”

“There’s no shame here.” His restless fingers lifted the sweaty tendrils of hair off her face. “Unless you tell me it’s what you named your kitten.” She jerked her head back with a gasp, staring up at him in shock. “No! Not your kitten. I mean a real cat. Because I thought I was being pretty impressive when you said it. And I wouldn’t want you to be thinking about a pet cat at that particular moment.” He shook his head. “Never mind. I’m shutting up now.”

“Thank the gods.” Abiene moved around a little more. “All right, I’m ready to tell you.”

“Do you want some kahve first?”

“Please.”

Jerric reached for the mug on the chest at the end of the bed. The kahve had gone cold, but Abiene wanted it anyway. She took a long drink, then he took a sip before he put it back. He waited while she composed herself.

“Vidkun is a boy from Leyawiin,” she explained. “A man, now. We went to school together, until he left to go to work. My first real love. We were together until I went away to the Arcane University, and I still saw him whenever I went home to visit. He wouldn’t leave Leyawiin, and I wouldn’t stay. Of course we kept it a secret, my parents didn’t approve.”

“I guess they wouldn’t like me, then.”

“My father would like you, in his own way.” She brushed her palm absently across his chest. “I haven’t seen Vidkun since last Saturalia. When I went back home for the holidays.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe it’s been a year.”

“Is that why… when we first met?” She looked up, questioning. “Well, I said pleased to meet you, and you said let’s work upstairs in my chamber. I said it’s warm in here, can I open a window. Next thing I knew, you had your nails in my back and I was the luckiest man in Cyrodiil.” He watched her blush again, and this time she smiled. “I mean, I know I’m not that special.”

“Don’t say that.” She sounded troubled. “It’s true, the first time you reminded me of Vidkun. I was feeling lonely, and I had a difficult patient that morning. That always makes me feel… empty, I suppose, and vulnerable. And there you were, so full of life. You don’t even look that much like him. I mean, you’re both Nords. But it was your smile, or the way you looked at me. And I liked the way you smelled. It was a hot day, and you smelled like outdoors and sunshine.”

“I’m sure I smelled like armpit. Sun’s Height on the Gold Coast is hard on a Nord, no matter how much time you spend with soap.”

Abiene smiled again. “Anyway, I liked it. And you made me laugh. You were so… You remember how it was. After that time, I just wanted you.” She reached for the kahve, and he handed it to her. “Did you ever do that? Say the wrong name?”

“Not that I know of. And I’m sure I would have been told. But I don’t always catch the name, so I guess I’ve learned not to say one.” Abiene turned shocked eyes on him. “Well, I don’t have a love story to tell you,” he laughed. “I have to admit to being easy.” Jerric’s stomach rumbled. He took the kahve back and sipped it sheepishly. “I guess I slept through breakfast.”

“I should have brought something for you, I knew you’d be sleeping in. Darnand said he talked to you last night when you put your things away in the basement. He said it was around two of the morning watch.”

“It was. I had a job that ran kind of late. I meant to come straight back here, but I headed off in the wrong direction. Too tired to think. I guess Darnand didn’t sleep in, if you talked to him this morning. Or maybe he just stayed up all night.”

“I don’t think he gives himself much rest. Or perhaps sometimes he just puts his head down and sleeps at his work table.”

They shared a smile over that image. Jerric gathered her close in his arms, so that her head tucked under his chin. “Let’s do something together today,” he said impulsively. “I mean out of bed. It’s Loredas. I can take you to lunch, or we can go to the market and look at all of the people. Don’t get me wrong when I say this, Abiene. I love that you come out here to see me. But we don’t really talk until we’ve humped each other senseless, and by then we’re too tired. Spend the day with me. It doesn’t have to be a date, people know we’re friends.”

“I don’t mean to treat you that way. I’m sorry, Jerric.” She reached up and held his face in her hands. “I know you like to take your time, and I always push you. I have to go back and treat my patients, but after that we can spend the rest of the day together.”

This is how I’ll remember her, Jerric decided. With her cheeks still pink and this tender look on her face. I won’t think of yesterday.

“Come and pick me up at the guild hall,” she continued. “I’ll be ready by eleven bells. We’ll go get some kahve and walk around the market, listen to the bards and the minstrels. I want to see the view from the top of the lighthouse, will you to show it to me? And there’s a new Breton restaurant in Westgate, let’s go there for dinner.” She slid her fingers into his hair and kissed him slowly, the way he liked the best. He marveled at the gentle way she melted in his arms. Then she shifted on his lap and froze, eyes wide. “You mean you didn’t…”

He grinned at her. “Not yet,” he said proudly. “I wanted to watch you first.” He started to say something more, but she stopped him.

“Hush,” she whispered, her face alight with mischief. “No more talk until we’ve humped each other senseless.”

This post has been edited by Grits: May 13 2011, 11:22 AM

[SubRosa]

I thought Jerric's beach hut looked like this.

So Vidkun's ugly, drowned head finally bobbed to the surface of the well! Abiene's embarrassment was expected. Jerric otoh, handled it awfully well. Most men have trouble hearing about the other sausages that their girlfriends have dined upon. Granted, he was foolish enough to actually ask her about it. That rarely ends well.

Even without the awkward moment, the fact that Abiene is calling out Vidkun's name does not spell good things for her relationship with Jerric. By his own admission, their relationship is based solely upon sex, given how that is all we see them do together, and how quickly they tumbled into bed together in the first place. If she is unconsciously thinking of Vidkun during sex, then Jerric himself is just a stand-in. I'd say he has good reason to start looking for a new girlfriend, before she finds another stand-in.

I’m sure I smelled like armpit.
I laughed at this. I am sure he smelled like that too! How straight girls find man-stink hot is one of those things that always eludes me.

Or perhaps sometimes he just puts his head down and sleeps at his work table.
Now that does sound like Darnand indeed.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: May 13 2011, 07:32 PM

[Acadian]

While prying into one's lover's past is generally a bad idea, Jerric was actually wise in this case since he was so assaulted by the name of another during their lovemaking. To ignore it would have led to resentment and mistrust on his part for sure. He did indeed handle things well. And honestly, I believe Abiene handled her passionate booboo well also. Shed some light, offer some reassurance and move on. . . or rather, hump each other senseless some more.

“Not that I know of. And I’m sure I would have been told. But I don’t always catch the name, so I guess I’ve learned not to say one.”
Jerric is brilliant in his country bumpkin kind of way. Wise and practical, that man.

[ghastley]

Do you understand that nobody's going to able to use the word "senseless" without extreme care from here on?

[mALX]

Abiene needs to use one nickname to call all her lovers, that way when she calls it out in the midst of passion they will all think she is calling their name, ROFL !!!!

This chapter effectively told Jerric where he stands with Abiene, just in case he didn't get it by how quickly their first encounter (and every one since) turned to passion. He may say he knew he wasn't that big a draw, but I doubt it was a great thing to hear anyway.

For some reason my mind boggles at the man I have envisioned as Jerric being compared unfavorably to the (cough) man I have seen as Vidkun in the game, ROFL !!!

Awesome Write!!!

[Grits]

SubRosa: I like your beach hut much better!! Jerric is simply applying the same standards to Abiene that he has for himself. Neither of them expects that they are the other’s first anything. Man-sweat is mysterious to this straight girl, even though I’m susceptible to it! How can some men just plain stink, but others stink like something you want to [Grits rejects all verbs that come to mind as inappropriate for the forum]? It’s some kind of unfair advantage! Yet there it is. The days-old workout shorts on the bottom of the laundry pile are the exception, of course!

Acadian: Thank you for endorsing their handling of a subject neither really wanted to discuss. Abiene sure knows how to change the subject!

ghastley: And here I thought it was “kitten” that could become dangerous.

mALX: I suppose that’s why “oh my god” is so popular. It’s non-specific, and could be considered flattering.

Where we are: Jerric and Abiene have agreed to spend Loredas together, fully clothed and upright. Also, I just noticed that somewhere in the last two posts we passed the 100,000 word mark. I am so very grateful to everyone who helped us get this far!!! Thank you for sticking with us!



Chapter 10: Septims, Part 13

Exercise and errands filled the rest of Jerric’s morning. When he reached the guild hall, the chapel bells were ringing the eleventh hour of the morning watch.

He found Abiene in the reception room waiting for him. Her hair curled unrestrained around her face and down her shoulders. She wore a soft-looking white blouse with a quilted bodice over it in her usual shade of brown. Her gathered tan skirt fell to her ankles. Jerric decided that her shoes looked appropriate for a day walking on cobbles. He wondered what she was wearing under her skirt. His eyes lingered over her waist and torso on their way back up to her face. He found her eyebrows raised in amusement, and returned her smile. “Do I pass inspection?” she asked.

A grin was as close as he could come to the reply that came to his mind. “I’ll be right back. I need to go down and put away these parcels.”

“Been shopping already?”

“Picking up some things I ordered.”

He watched Abiene’s hands reach out for him before she stopped the gesture. She pressed them together instead. “Your new doublet suits you.”

“Thanks. Tulia’s Threads. I just said ‘something presentable,’ and she did the rest. There’s a chill today. You’ll want your cloak.”

When he returned, Jerric found that Marc Gulitte had joined Abiene in the front hall. When she looked up at Jerric, he saw Marc’s eyes quickly travel the same path that his had recently taken. He felt a surge of irritation. Recognizing his own hypocrisy didn’t make it easier to bear. The Breton looked like he was viewing his lunch.

Jerric took Abiene’s cloak and held it for her as she stepped under it. “Gulitte,” he gritted through his teeth.

“Jerric. Abiene. Enjoy the market.”

They stepped out into Anvil’s main plaza, inside the Main Gate. On Loredas the space served as a market square. Every manner of stall, stand, and cart had been set up around the evergreen oak and pond. Folk flew colorful flags and banners advertizing their wares. This market served as a venue for local farmers and artisans to sell directly to their customers. Jerric looked over the scene with delight. Every Loredas could be a treasure hunt, for those with coin and leisure time.

Abiene took his arm and smiled up at him. “Where should we begin?”

“Kahve,” said Jerric. “The dreck I made this morning was both scorched and cold.” He glanced around quickly before he continued. “Though the time spent while it cooled was sweet.”

“Perhaps if you hadn’t started the fire with such a large ball of flame. I never knew one could burn a liquid.”

“I was in a hurry. You were cold.”

“You mean I was unclothed.” Her gaze drifted back over the market, and a secret smile played on her lips. “We should at least step out from under the guild portico before our resolve weakens. If you will recall, it was you who suggested that we get out of bed.”

“I’m a little sore,” he admitted.

“You were showing off.”

He grinned at her. “Yeah.”

Jerric led them directly to his favorite kahve stand. Three Redguard sisters operated it only on market and festival days. He had no idea what they did with the rest of their time. They were a blur of motion, filling orders, taking coins, and washing mugs.

Two Imperial women took the place in line behind them. Their conversation quickly became intrusive.

“Did you hear about Balbus and Honoria?” One woman was saying. “Word is they moved in together.” She made a disapproving sound. “No talk of the chapel for those two.”

“I know! It’s shameful! Her poor mother would turn in her grave, if they had ever found a body to bury.”

“They’ve been running around for months, right under the town’s noses!”

“I heard they were seen dining at the Count’s Arms, then who knows what else they did there.”

“I have a fairly good idea. You’ve seen the way she walks. Like she just can’t wait for it.”

Jerric felt Abiene squeeze his arm, and he glanced down at her. She appeared to be studying the shoulders of the Dunmer in front of her.

“Who moved in with whom?” the second women asked.

“He with she. It’s what I would expect. She has that cottage in Westgate, and I doubt he has a pot to piss in.”

“Well I see what he gets out of it, then. She’s a fool to lower herself.” Jerric heard a dismissive sniff. “Folk won’t want to buy their bread from a tramp who carries on like that.”

Jerric reached over and pressed Abiene’s hand with his own. “In Dibella’s own city, you wouldn’t think we’d have to listen to such dreck,” he remarked.

“What can I get for you?” one of the kahve women called to them. Her smile broadened when she recognized Jerric. “I’m asking the lady, I know how you like it.”

The woman at the coin box glanced up. “Black and bitter, like his heart.” She giggled with her sisters as she handed a cup to the Dunmer she was serving.

“Very hot, with milk and just a little foam, please,” Abiene said. “No sweetener.”

Jerric handed over the coins and took their cups. “It’s good to see you again,” the Redguard woman told him. Her smile at Abiene was just as warm. “Ma’am.”

They wandered toward the edge of the crowd, sipping their drinks. “You are outrageous,” Abiene said. “Is there anyone you don’t flirt with?”

“I have to compensate. Folk don’t tend to like me right away.”

Abiene looked at him over her cup. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah. I mean, folk look at you and think, ‘Here’s a nice woman. Sweet face and the hands of a healer. Dibella must love her.’ They look at me and think, ‘There goes a man on his way to a killing. Maybe he’ll stop and do some raping first.’ So I start off with a smile.”

“I don’t think so, Jerric. At least not lately.”

Recent events were a subject Jerric didn’t want to think about. “Let’s go look at the goods.”

The season meant mostly game and winter greens in the food stalls. They made their way through to the craftsmen’s area. Arrangements of dried flowers seemed to be popular with women of a certain age. Jerric thought that the wreaths and bundles looked useful for starting a fire.

An elderly Breton couple stopped them and began discussing various conditions of their skin and feet with Abiene. Jerric decided that was his cue to return their cups to the kahve vendor.

“Toys!” Abiene exclaimed when he rejoined her. “Saturalia is coming. Let’s find the woodcarvers.”

The toy vendors were clustered together, offering wares that folk had spent their leisure time all the past year making. Abiene passed up the dolls to look at plush animals, some of them made from fur. She held a toy kitten up to her face and looked over at Jerric, smiling wickedly. He coughed to cover his outburst of laughter.

Jerric picked up a tiny wooden teacup and held it on his palm. The floral decoration was so delicate, he couldn’t believe someone could paint it. “You must use a brush made of eyelashes,” he said in wonder.

“Almost,” the Nord behind the stand replied. “Perfect for the little miss in your life. Just the right thing for her dolls’ tea party.”

Fjirsten would love this, he thought. Yellow is her favorite color.

He had left himself completely unguarded. The black pit he carried inside simply reached up and swallowed him. Grief took his sight. Eventually he realized that Abiene must have led him away. The handkerchief he held pressed against his face smelled of her skin.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered when he finally met her eyes. “I didn’t think.”

“I didn’t, either.” His voice was not ready to speak, he decided. She kept one hand on his elbow and the other against his waist until he could give her a shaky smile.

“Saturalia,” he said determinedly. “Are you going home for the holidays again this year?”

“No. Anvil is my home now. I don’t expect you to understand, but I’m more myself when I’m not with my family. I love them, and I miss them. I’m sure I’ll get to Leyawiin before another year passes. This year I just don’t want to take the time away.”

Jerric understood the last part, but he knew it would only bring sorrow to acknowledge it. “Let’s get some lunch,” he said. “I’m starved.”

They followed the sound of street musicians toward Chapelgate. Most of the market booths would be taken down in the next hour, and Anvil’s social hub would shift toward the Chapel of Dibella with its gardens and arcade. Jerric knew the Westgate shops would also see an increase in traffic, but the food carts he favored could be found toward the Castle Gate.

“Redguard food,” Jerric said as they walked. “I know what I want. Let’s not eat too much, so we’ll be hungry for dinner. We should go kind of early. I have a job with Darnand tonight. Is that all right with you?”

“Of course. My appetite is seldom as urgent as yours.” Her raised eyebrow dared him to deny it. “You should choose where we go for lunch. I don’t know much about Redguard food.”

“How is that possible? You live in Anvil!”

“I dine at the guild hall. Roast meat and potatoes. It’s a Nord’s kitchen.”

“Well this will be something new, then. You try something new, and then I’ll try something new. I don’t know much about Breton food, so it will be fun.”

They stopped at an arrangement of three carts grouped together. Jerric knew that one cart held chilled foods, one was hot, and the middle was loaded with condiments. Fragrant steam wafted into the air. The young man at the hot cart wore a light shirt, despite the day’s chill.

Abiene looked slightly worried. “Nothing too spicy, and not too sour.”

“Do you want to pick it out?”

“Of course,” she laughed. “But that wouldn’t be fair!”

“Do you want something sweet? We could get ran alai. That means small cake of cheese in a slimy white sauce.” The young vendor rolled his eyes, and Jerric tried to look serious.

“That sounds delicious.” Abiene’s face said otherwise.

“Here, how about this, then. It’s called rota chatapay. That means crispy fried vegetable roll.” He made the exchange with the vendor. “This time of year it’s stuffed with sliced cabbage, potatoes, garlic, onion, and spices. Look, you cut a slit along the top and dump the sauce in. Whoa, not too much! Better let me have that one and try again. That stuff will burn you coming and going, if you get my meaning.”

Abiene laughed again. “Please, don’t explain it any more.”

There were no plates to return to the cart. They walked slowly as they munched their chatapay, letting the crumbs fall to the paving stones. The chapel pigeons flew in for cleanup. Their activity attracted the smaller and much faster sparrows. Battle ensued.

One sparrow landed on Jerric’s forearm and fixed its fierce gaze on him. “By the Nine! Quick, finish before you lose a finger. I’ll draw them away.”

Abiene tossed the end of hers to the ground. It disappeared into a cloud of feathers. “The day is saved, mighty warrior.” She handed her handkerchief back to him with a smile. “Still, best brush the crumbs off your beard. I can’t imagine the attention you would attract running through the streets, adorned with birds.”

They joined the parade of folk strolling past Chapelgate’s gracious houses. Most sported planters filled with winter flowers. Some had already begun decorating with evergreen boughs for North Winds Prayer. Jerric’s eyes picked out the wreaths made of holly, his favorite. Which ones does Abiene like best, he wondered. He began to think how little he knew about her.

“What’s your favorite kind of flower?” Jerric asked. He realized belatedly that the question sounded rather abrupt.

Abiene didn’t seem to need an explanation. “Peonies, definitely. I love their fragrance, and they only bloom for about a week. Less if it rains. It only makes them more precious.”

“Peonies! I never would have guessed it. They’re so big and blowsy, and you’re…” he looked her up and down. “Not.”

“Well, I adore them.” She placed a graceful hand on her chest. “Perhaps because they don’t share my shortcomings.”

“I think I’ve shown you my views on that subject. Now whenever I see a peony in bloom, I’ll think of you.” I wonder if I’ll see spring, he suddenly thought.

“What’s your favorite?” Abiene asked.

“Flax flowers, any color.”

“That’s only because of their seeds! You’re supposed to think of your favorite flower.”

“Well as many times as flax seeds have saved my life, I’m sticking with my choice.”

“I already think of you when I see flax flowers. You left a trail of flax seeds everywhere you went last summer.”

“I pick them as soon as they start going to seed. When you pluck the seed heads off, it encourages them to bloom again. You can keep a flax plant in bloom for a long time that way.”

“Well, at least choose a favorite color of flax flower.”

“Blue,” Jerric said without hesitating. “Your turn to ask a question.”

“Why haven’t you asked me to train you?”

“What?” Jerric stopped and looked at her, surprised.

“There’s more to the school of Restoration than healing. You know that.”

He thought about it for a moment while folk walked past them. “I’ve been focused on my offensive skills. What I need for summoning and destruction. Saving up so I can afford the spells.” He looked at Abiene curiously. “What do you suggest?”

She took his arm and started walking again. “First, there is a spell that will temporarily increase the magicka you can hold. In your case it would cost more to cast than it will allow you to increase. However, I am sure you can now make a potion to restore your magicka far beyond what your body can retain. A fortify spell could be useful if you cast it before you drink the potion. It would allow you to use the magicka that would otherwise be wasted.”

Jerric took a moment to consider her words. “I could use it with a potion to fortify my magicka, too. Darnand told me about Xivilai. They can absorb spells like I do, supposedly. I’ll need a lot of magicka if I meet any of them.”

“All right, so that’s one spell I can teach you. There are spells that will temporarily enhance your skills, and even your attributes. What would be the most useful?”

Jerric thought for another moment. “Spells that would make me stronger and faster. Pretty much everything in the Deadlands is stronger than me.”

“That shouldn’t be difficult. You will have to evaluate when to use them in combat. I should think before you fight spell-casters, so that your magicka won’t be depleted when you fight.”

“Right. And when I’m running for my life, then it will be worth the magicka.” He squeezed her hand and smiled at her, but she did not seem to see the humor.

“I’m afraid I don’t know much about daedra.”

“Well, what have you been doing every night since I’ve been back?” he teased. “Don’t tell me I’m interfering with your studies.”

Now she smiled. “It was my walk back from the beach that gave me the idea about fortify spells, that time you fell asleep. I heard a noise and ran like a deer.” She glanced up sheepishly. “Probably a mudcrab.”

“It could have been anything. I wish you would have wakened me to walk you to the harbor.” He tried to keep his tone light. “There could be a Gate opening at any time. Don’t leave the city walls unless you’re prepared.”

“I’m better prepared than you, in some ways. I can escape onto water, and they’ll drown. I can turn myself invisible and run. I can use chameleon and walk close enough to touch them, then absorb their life energy into mine with a spell.”

Jerric stopped again, gripping her tightly. “Don’t do the last one. Please, Abiene, if something happens, just get to safety.”

“I’m no fighter, and I don’t expect to suddenly be one. I’m just letting you know that I’m not helpless.” She looked up at him, quiet and solemn. “Jerric, you’re hurting me.”

“I’m sorry.” He let go and kept walking while she rubbed her arms. “Tell me more about the spell to absorb life energy. We’re having a problem with storm atronachs. They don’t seem to have any weaknesses.”

Abiene took his arm again. “That’s quite simple. Just give them a weakness.” She glanced up with a smug smile. “You mean your Breton scholar didn’t think of that? I can teach you the spell I mentioned, or you can get it from Marc. But I think you should use a spell to weaken them against magical attacks first, then fight them with your destruction spells.”

Jerric looked at Abiene with new eyes. “You’re full of surprises.”

“I may not know about fighting, but I’ve heard every kind of way that folk get hurt. Of course, that weakness spell is from the Destruction school. I’m sure someone in Skingrad will have it.”

“Or Vigge the Cautious. We’re going to Kvatch first.”

“Will Kvatch still specialize in Alchemy?”

“I guess. They still have Sigrid, and they’ll need plenty of potions with the reconstruction. It’s still a good place for an Alchemy school. The West Weald is rich with ingredients, and most mages could use the exercise of climbing up the road to the plateau. They don’t need a fancy building for an alchemy lab. I guess I’d rather work outside, anyway. Especially with potions that call for something rotten.” Jerric had a thought. “I was going to ask you to train me, but I forgot. Will you teach me a light spell, too?”

“Of course.” Abiene’s face held a look he had never seen before. Pride, he realized. She apologized for treating me like a piece of meat, but I never thought about how I was treating her.

The chapel bells rang out right over their heads. Jerric glanced up at the sky to confirm the time. This has been the quickest afternoon of my life, he thought. “Let’s walk through the Chapel gardens,” he suggested. “The glass house should be open today.”

This post has been edited by Grits: May 16 2011, 09:23 PM

[SubRosa]

So Jerric and Abiene got to spend a quiet day at the market. The gossiping between the two women in line for coffee behind them was excellently done, as was Abiene's reaction to it. That is exactly the same thing she is setting herself up for by shacking up with Jerric. Something her mother warned her about over Saturalia as well. I am sure it will not dissuade her hormones though, it never does! I am a little surprised that Carahil has not warned her about the same thing, to be honest. At this point one would have to be pretty thick not to notice that she and Jerric are an item.

I bring it up because in Abiene's Saturalia and here in Jerric's Story you have established that respectable women do not sleep around. Unlike men, they have to be very discreet and keep their sexual activities secret. (much like up until a few years ago IRL). Abiene is on the verge of being labeled a skank, just like the woman being gossiped about in the kahve line. Given how patriarchal the society you present is, that would doubtlessly cause her serious problems with advancement in the Mages Guild, not to mention make it impossible for her (and probably her sister) to ever marry a respectable man, and disgrace her family.

Seriously though, it was nice to see Jerric and Abiene acting like a bf/gf in public. It shows that maybe they might actually form a relationship that is beyond sex. If he marries her, then at least her reputation would be saved.

‘There goes a man on his way to a killing. Maybe he’ll stop and do some raping first.’
And that is of course exactly why Abiene is shacking up with him, and not Darnand. No straight girl can resist the bad boys.

Fjirsten would love this, he thought. Yellow is her favorite color.
This was perfect, so completely out of the blue.

No. Anvil is my home now.
? What happened to Abiene going to Chorrol to study more restoration?

“Why haven’t you asked me to train you?”
Here is a good question, in which Abiene shows that she has learned something in her years in the mages guild. Her suggestion to use a Weakness to Magicka first was excellent. I always add that in as an effect to my offensive spells, so I don't have to cast it separately. It does not work on the first hit, and you have to make sure the weakness has a long enough duration that it is still active when you hit the second time. But does it make a difference!

I can escape onto water, and they’ll drown.
Abiene did not know that Dremora can be found with Potions of the Sea on them! (seriously, what the heck are they doing with those!)

This post has been edited by SubRosa: May 16 2011, 11:26 PM

[haute ecole rider]

What a delightful day spent in the vertical position in my favorite city! I enjoyed everything, from Jerric's and Marc's assessment of Abiene's outfit to the kahve stall and the two prudish gossips to the Redguard pocket food! And in the end Jerric asking Abiene's advice about useful spells in the restoration school! No wonder she felt validated! It seems to me their relationship is growing beyond mattress sports. Is that a good thing? I hope so, since I really like both characters and want each to find their happiness!

[Acadian]

As Rider said, a delightful day! And what a wonderfully festive atmosphere in the beautiful city of Anvil.

'Jerric thought that the wreaths and bundles looked useful for starting a fire. '
That's our Jerric!

'There were no plates to return to the cart. They walked slowly as they munched their chatapay, letting the crumbs fall to the paving stones. The chapel pigeons flew in for cleanup. Their activity attracted the smaller and much faster sparrows. Battle ensued.'
This is lovely, like so many of the details you wove into this episode.

I loved the exchange between Abiene and Jerric regarding their favorite flowers and the accompanying rationale - so very suiting to both of them!

[mALX]

I was surprised they chose to walk around talking instead of finding some fun, sporty-type activity while they adjusted to standing up - like darts/croquet/polo/a picnic, etc. It felt a little awkward at first between them, but seemed to be more comfortable toward the end of the chapter.

"Fjirsten would love this, he thought. Yellow is her favorite color." - loved this part. I don't think Abiene realized how her choosing not to go home to her family may feel to Jerric who has no choice in the matter because they are gone. His reaction here brought it home.

Awesome Write !!

[D.Foxy]

Grits, regarding scents - here again is Professor Foxy to the rescue!

BEGIN LECTURE

Human scent created from sweat is a cocktail of literally hundreds of chemicals, and one of the major incredients in the sweat of a human is his or her Major Histocompatability Complex molecules (we'll call them MHC from now on). Mixed with that are oils, salt, and a hundred and one other molecules, including our usual sexual suspects, testosterone and oestrogen.

Now apparently the MHCs of each human are unique, almost as unique as the DNA. They determine the immune system of the human, and if you have a lot of them you are almost bulletproof as far as diseases and infections are concerned.

Therefore evolution has apparently bred us to prefer mates who have different MHCs from our own - and we can find this out through the scent of their sweat. Since women have a keener sense of smell than men, they are more susceptible to falling in love through their noses...men, being more olfactorily challenged, have to use their eyes to fall in love.

Note that when women are either pregnant or on the pill, their scent selection may be reversed - they may prefer the scent of similar, rather than dissimilar, MHC.

Gay women have an automatic averse reaction to testosterone, so they are not turned on by the sweat of any man: to them we all stink the same - which is to say, to high heaven.

Gay men, however, gather around testosterone like flies around honey. Which is why there are statistically more gay army and military doctors than in the general male population.

You might want to look up the Wiki article "Major Histocompatability Complex", in particular the chapter "MHC and sexual selection."

[haute ecole rider]

Foxy's lecture is spot-on. The natural preference for (male) mates with an MHC complex different from our (women) own has an evolutionary advantage in that it maintains genetic diversity, which is vital from a species standpoint. Less chance of hereditary predisposition to devastating disease, resistance to hostile bugs, and so forth means increased chance of survival to reproduction.

Interesting stuff, isn't it?

[Grits]

SubRosa: As the daughter of social climbers, Abiene definitely comes from the part of Imperial-dominated society who insists on discretion. I got that from the in-game gossip about people hooking up. As you pointed out, Abiene is trying to keep up appearances for her family. Jerric doesn’t come from that world, and neither does Carahil. Even with the Nine there can be wildly different standards of behavior. Dibella’s priests are referred to as orgiasts who offer erotic instruction, yet Alga is sick of being hounded about “Mara Mother Mild” and getting married in the chapel. One of the things that makes the ES world so interesting to play in for me is the variety that all of the cultures allows.

Abiene is going to Chorrol for awhile. She’s saying that when she thinks of home, it’s Anvil, not Leyawiin. There’s a little more on home and family in this section. Thank you so much for your comments, they are both thoughtful and thought-provoking!

haute ecole rider: You’re right, there’s more going on now than fun in the sack. I don’t think it’s a spoiler to say that things will get hectic before long. I’m so glad you like them both. It was nice to give them a relaxing day.

Acadian: To hear that their choices seemed right made me smile. I so enjoyed writing the lovely Loredas in Anvil. The second half of the day is next.

mALX: Abiene chose the activities, otherwise it would probably be “Let’s go out to the meadow and you can watch me play ball.” I love that you picked up on the opposing family situations, and the awkwardness that brings. They touch on it again in this section.

D. Foxy: Thank you, Professor Foxy!! Very interesting indeed, and extremely complicated. I never thought of fish having immune systems, but of course they do. You explained it perfectly. Then I went and read the article and had to go back and read your explanation again to clear my head.

And it’s great news. I am sometimes asked how Mr. Grits gets away with certain outrageous behavior, like going out with the guys on a weeknight. In the past I have said things like, “He’s a grown man. I don’t have him on a leash, except by special request like on his birthday.” Now I can say, “It’s the MHC. He let me sniff his chest.” Much more dignified.

Where we are: Loredas. Jerric and Abiene had some lunch and enjoyed each other’s company. Here is the rest of their day.




Chapter 10: Septims, Part 14

Jerric stepped into the glass garden house and held the door for Abiene. Humid air closed around them like a blanket. He quickly removed his doublet and took her cloak. The ceiling was high enough to accommodate palm trees and great hanging vines, and the building stretched the length of the chapel. The atmosphere was heavy with exotic scents.

Small, tropical finches streaked through the branches, adding their splashes of color to the high greenery. Giant blue and violet tree frogs were visible crouched on limbs over the paths. Colorful mushrooms carpeted the shady areas, and the sunny spots were bright with flowers. Jerric and Abiene strolled along the walkways, keeping pace with the other Anvilites who were out enjoying the afternoon.

“Look at that couple, there,” Abiene said, indicating a Bosmer and an older-looking Imperial man. The Bosmer wore a gown of sapphire velvet, accented with panels of paler blue silk. Her auburn hair was swept to the top of her head and ornamented with an arrangement of gold and blue ribbons. Platform heels gave her inches of extra height. Her companion wore a russet velvet doublet and short, puffy breeches, with hose of the same color. His shoes were also made of velvet. Jerric hoped for the man’s sake that the afternoon would remain free of rain. Jerric leaned down to catch Abiene’s soft words. “What do you suppose is their story?” she asked.

“I don’t know them.”

“I don’t either, that’s perfect. We can make something up.”

“They met when they both were young,” Jerric suggested after a moment. “She could be his age, it wouldn’t show on her. They’re here in Anvil for the holidays, maybe visiting the pack of kids they had over the years. Maybe grandkids, so they got out of the house for the afternoon to save their sanity. They’re going out tonight. Probably some event at the castle, I doubt she plans to walk far in those shoes.” He glanced over at Abiene to see how he did.

“Boring,” she sighed. “He was a young noble living in Valenwood. One day his hunting party was set upon by bandits, and she happened by and saved his life. No one else survived. She nursed him back to health in the forest. They fell in love, of course. When he had healed enough to return to his home, he discovered that in his absence, his enemies had sullied his good name with lies! She helped him seek justice. They left a swath of bloody vengeance in their wake. When finally his honor was satisfied, they took the gold of their vanquished foes and set out to see the world. Every day they wear silk and jewels, and in their ship they sleep on a bed of the softest feathers.” She gave him a triumphant glance. “Oh, and they’re here in Anvil for the chatapay.”

Jerric laughed. “Close, but you made one mistake. The Bosmer is an assassin, sent to kill the noble long ago. She hired the bandits that attacked his hunting party. During the battle she was so impressed by his swordsmanship that she instantly fell for him. She’s waiting to complete her contract until he lies dying anyway. Then at the last moment she’ll take his life, fulfilling her honor.”

Abiene looked thoughtful. “Then how do you explain her shoes? She must be ready at any moment to defend him, in case someone else picked up his contract.”

Jerric shrugged. “Women look good in heels.”

“Jerric! My dear Abiene!” They looked over to find Thaurron approaching. “A fine day, is it not?” Abiene bent when the Bosmer reached them, and he kissed her cheeks in greeting. “I missed you at the market. No packages?” He raised his own parcel. “I was fortunate to find what I needed. Sparky has been naughty again, and I have a few things of Carahil’s to replace.”

“Where is the little fellow?” asked Jerric. “We could have used him earlier for aerial defense.”

“Oh, I dare not bring him in here. Too many blossoms to rip and toss about. And he has only recently stopped flying into windows; walls made entirely of glass might prove difficult to explain. Besides, the guards only tolerate him because they think he’s a summoning. He’s quite popular Harborside, however. Some of his ruder mannerisms are considered quaint by the sailors.”

“We’re headed to the harbor later,” Abiene said. “Jerric is going to show me the view from the lighthouse. Will you join us?”

“No, my dear, but I thank you for the kind invitation.” He glanced around and sighed. Jerric realized that his face did not hold its customary sparkle. “This garden house was a favorite spot of Donrehdil’s,” Thaurron said to Jerric. He decided that Carahil was not the only mer who seemed to read his mind. “I come here every Loredas when the light is good to remember her. She loved the soft air in here, and the smell of damp soil. It reminded her of our home in Silvenar.”

“We’ll leave you to it, then,” said Jerric. He felt he was at risk of sweating through his shirt.

“Who’s Donrehdil?” Jerric asked when they had reached cool air again. He held Abiene’s cloak for her.

“His late wife. I don’t know much about it, and I don’t want to pry. He’s mourned her for years. Sometimes he’s just sad for awhile.” Abiene’s face looked thoughtful. “I can’t say why it comes over him, it just does.”

“He’s a friend to you.” Jerric wanted to ask without making it a question.

Abiene looked up with a gentle smile. “Yes. I suppose he’s part of the family I’ve made for myself here. Carahil, too, though I’m not as close to her. And Felen. He’s so deep in his studies most of the time, but he’s quick to take action when it’s required. I know I can count on him, if I should need him.”

“What about Darnand? He’s lived here almost as long as you have.”

“I care a great deal for Darnand,” she said quietly. “In some ways he reminds me of my Papa. He’s brilliant, and I have tremendous respect for him.” Her expression became pensive again. “I’m glad he’s going with you on your travels. It’s absurd that the guild requires him to collect recommendations. I doubt he would have taken the time from his work without you to drag him away. He should make spells for you at the University, Jerric. Combinations of weakness and elemental destruction. Summoning with invisibility, so that you will not be the target. A spell that will trap the soul’s energy as it kills.”

Jerric found himself impressed again. “You rank higher than either of us. You could make those spells for me.”

Abiene shook her head. “My knowledge is deep, but narrow. Darnand is a true Mage.”

“I don’t know how far we’ll get with the recommendations, but you’ve given me good reason to take the time. I couldn’t make those spells you thought up, even if they’d let me. But you’re right, Darnand could.” He shrugged back into his doublet. “Come on, we’ll go out the Castle Gate and walk along the waterfront. We have plenty of time to get to the top of the lighthouse before the sun sets.”

As they walked through the chapel garden to the street, Jerric glanced back over at Abiene. How did this woman end up on my arm, he wondered. I wish that I could keep her there.

A band of minstrels had assembled on the street while they were in the glass house. They began their song with a flourish as Jerric and Abiene reached them.

“Oh, no,” Jerric groaned when he recognized the music.

“It’s the Ballad of Kvatch! We have to stay and listen, they’re playing it for you.”

“I thought folk would stop recognizing me when you cut that scar off.”

Abiene glanced up at him. “That wasn’t your most recognizable feature.”

“It’s a long song,” Jerric complained. “And they should leave storytelling to the bards.”

“It’s a compliment. Be nice.”

It seemed a lifetime later when they stepped out the Castle Gate. Jerric saw that the tide was in. “Let’s look at the marsh first,” he suggested.

They walked down the footpath to their left, away from the harbor. Low tide on a Loredas would bring industrious children with their buckets and clamming rakes, but for now the mud flats were a hunting ground for birds. Two great green herons stepped slowly along the water’s edge, hiding their shadows in the tall marsh grass. Jerric watched one stop with a leg lifted. Its long bill shot into the water and came up with a silvery fish. A flip into the air and a single gulp later, and only the spreading ripples told of what had happened.

Sedge wrens filled the air with their liquid song. Their orange and brown plumage blended in with the yellow grass. Jerric turned his mind away from the harbor’s clamor and listened to the marsh. Soft chuckles told him that snow geese were nearby, but hidden. Water gurgled as it lapped up into crab burrows in the mud. He followed a sound like rocks clicking together until he spotted clapper rails wading out on a sandbar. His eyes lifted farther and found a skiff manned by teenagers checking their crab pots. Their splashing and distant exclamations carried over the water.

Abiene took his arm again, her face alight with wonder. “It’s beautiful,” she breathed. “I never knew.”

They stayed in the marsh for some time, walking the dry path along the high ground. Jerric told tales of his childhood, exploring with Rhano and his cousins. Abiene simply listened. Her dark eyes seemed to hold the quiet his heart was seeking.

Dagon would turn this all to blood and fire, he thought. There is no price too high to stop him.

When the sun had dropped into the west, Jerric led them back to the harbor. A different crowd of folk paraded there, far louder and more varied than Chapelgate’s genteel pedestrians.

Jerric noticed an Imperial woman in gaudy attire approaching them, underdressed for the weather. Her thin blouse appeared to be unfastened in the front, secured only by the brief vest she wore over it. Her skirt fluttered open as she walked, exposing most of her legs as they emerged in turn with her swaggering walk. Rolling your hips that much without dislocating one must take some practice, Jerric thought. “Hey there, Nord,” she called out. She stopped when she reached them. “Remember me?”

Jerric froze. This type of situation never became comfortable, no matter how many times it repeated itself. He tried to picture the woman from several different angles, but he still didn’t recognize her. “Let me guess. Was there drink involved? Sometimes that makes me, uh, friendly.”

The woman smiled and looked Abiene up and down. She placed a hand on her hip, swaying on her feet. “Is this your lady?”

“Uh…” Jerric wasn’t sure how much Abiene would allow him to admit. He struggled to decide what answer would be to her advantage. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember you.”

“Oh, you don’t have anything to be sorry for,” she gushed. “Here, this might bring it back.” Without further discussion, she lifted her skirt. The woman didn’t seem to favor undergarments below her waist, either. Abiene gasped at the spectacle, and Jerric knew immediately who the woman was. The name that came to his mind was unlikely to be what she called herself, however.

“Yeah, I remember you. That’s an unusual place to wear jewelry. You know, I pissed glass for a week after I met you. I hope you got yourself to a chapel.” He glanced over at Abiene. She tore her gaze away from the woman’s sparkling embellishments and leveled a glare at him. Several emotions seemed to battle for control of her face, none of them good. “Say, when was that again? Had to be a couple of years ago. You might have been at the University, Abiene.”

“Well I may not remember when, but I sure remember you,” the woman declared. “Hung like an ogre and twice as—”

“All right, put your skirt back together,” Jerric interrupted. “There’s a lady present. We have to go.”

“What a shame, I have a new piercing I’d like to show you.”

His mind ground to a halt, curiosity threatening to overcome his last shred of sense. Abiene yanked his arm and got him moving.

“Let’s walk along the waterfront,” she said in an acid tone as they walked, imitating him. “Great idea, Jerric.”

“Well if you ever have to heal one of those, now you won’t be surprised. That just can’t be good for you.” He glanced cautiously at her face, hoping that the humor of the situation would soon present itself to her. “I think she was drunk. And who knows anything about an ogre’s package? They wear those ogre drawers.” Abiene’s lips seemed to twitch. He tried to sound affronted. “I mean, a minotaur, sure. That would have been a real compliment. Those fellows just swing in the breeze, everyone—”

“All right, you can stop,” Abiene laughed. “I suppose it was the pox that she gave you.”

“Yeah,” he admitted.

“I should teach you to cure your own diseases. For my own benefit, at least.”

“Well, you can’t catch by it breathing the same air, so I think we’re safe this time. That would be a good spell to know, though. Let’s add it to my list.”

“There’s no need to go out and catch another dose for practice,” Abiene pointed out.

“Thanks. I’ll remember that.”

They hiked up the long, shallow steps to the lighthouse, then climbed the spiraling staircase within. Jerric paused before the final ladder to let Abiene catch her breath, but she wasn’t winded. “Are you afraid of heights?” she asked.

“No. Are you?”

“Not at all.” She started up the ladder. “Just a little worried about falling.”

The sky glowed nearly every color but green as the sun went down. Wind gusted through the lighthouse’s open top. The fire wasn’t yet lit, so they kept back a few steps from the railing. Jerric knew the landmarks they could see, but the moment didn’t seem right for a lecture. He stood with Abiene at his side, her hand clasped in his. Her hair lifted in the breeze, and her cloak wrapped around his legs.

Abiene turned to face him. “No, keep watching the sunset,” she said. “Don’t pay attention to me. I just want to look at you.” She took his chin in her hand and lifted it back toward the sky.

“All right.” He smiled, knowing she could see it. “But you’re making me think of bedchamber things now.”

“Let’s enjoy the peace, such as it is.” She pulled his arm around her shoulders and wrapped hers around his waist. He could hear gulls crying, and ships’ bells in the harbor. Music floated up from the taverns, along with distant voices raised in shouts. The calm sea reflected all the warm colors of sunset, until the horizon was only visible as the brightest layer of blazing light.

“I have an idea,” he whispered into Abiene’s hair. “But we only have a moment before the sun is down.”

“No,” Abiene murmured back. “I’m taking you to dinner next, so keep your trousers buttoned. The restaurant I told you about. It’s called A Taste of Camlorn.”

“Breton food.”

“Yes. Goose guts and snails the size of your fist. I can’t wait to see you try something new.”

“At the top of the lighthouse would be something new.”

“With the lighthouse keeper watching? He’ll be here any moment to light the fire. I can see that headline in The Black Horse Courier. ‘Anvil Healer Cited for Public Acts of Extreme Lewdness. Local Nord Receives Accolades for Same.’” She reached up and ran her fingertips along his jaw. “We should come back another time when he’s busy. And it’s a little warmer.”

He caught her fingers and kissed them. “All right, if you’re sure. I want to know what you had in mind. I was only thinking of one act of moderate lewdness.” His stomach gurgled loudly. “Goose guts. I can’t wait.”

This post has been edited by Grits: May 20 2011, 12:17 AM