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

[mALX]

My interest has been perked by the focus on Clesa's son Kado. I've always liked Jerric's easy way with children, and to see it extends to the less fortunate as well reveals a lot about his character. Children, dogs and cats - they can usually determine someone's true nature better than adults, lol. Another wonderful addition to an AWESOME character driven story!!! Your ability to develop deep characters is amazing, a huge gift !!! Great Write !!!

[haute ecole rider]

I loved the uncomfortable scene at the breakfast table, between trying to keep what happened the night before secret (and protect Darnand, which turns out to be a misplaced intention) and ogling Abiene without being obvious. Darnand definitely can handle the consequences, as dreadful as they may be, because he's got a pair, all right.

I also enjoyed sharp-eyed Thaurron and suspicious Gilette. And the gossipy Felen! Not like my Felen at all! But I still enjoyed them anyway.

And the scene at the horse stables was wonderful. I'd trust a simple man with my horse before I'd trust a former knacker! Poor Clesa! At least Cato Kado is good for something!

[Acadian]

Thanks for a great southern breakfast!

Your delicate skill with your characters continues be a joy to read.

“What has occurred?” Carahil’s voice was as smooth as glass. Jerric glanced at her. Even at the breakfast table she looked ready for an audience with the Countess. I bet every part of her is polished, he thought. Then he had to hide his smile in his mug. '
Wow! Is this ever Carahil! Oh, and a lovely touch of humor about her polished bits!

'Thaurron’s eyebrow spoke for him. The Bosmer didn’t miss much. '
This would have been so easy to overstate. Perfect example of the delicate touch I mentioned you have. And another reason to like the endearing mer.

'Jerric reached out and steered him around a lamp post.'
The imagery of this brought a big chuckle!

'The chapel was no doubt buzzing with mages confiding their latest story to just one friend. The news would surely reach Valenwood by lunchtime. '
Yup. Just one friend. . . .

Gosh, Jerric, Darnanad, Thaurron, Abiene, Carahil all shine here!

The dialogue you gave Kado was perfect. I enjoyed his enthusiasm and how very Jerric to return simple kindness in kind, and even extend it to Clessa. The scene says much about Jerric - all of it good! Yum, carrots!

This post has been edited by Acadian: May 30 2011, 01:02 AM

[D.Foxy]

Girl, if ever Hemingway met Kathleen Woddiwiss, you would be the product - a writing style that has both the masculine hard hitting style with the delicacy and insightfulness of the feminine touch.

[Grits]

mALX: Thank you so much, mALX! You picked up exactly what I was hoping to show with Kado. And now of course I have a whole bunch of Kado story buzzing in my head, argh! Jerric may never get out of Anvil.

haute ecole rider: I’m glad you enjoyed the breakfast scene. Jerric was definitely in over his head, and it was nice to let Darnand take care of business. I had to give Clesa some help, no way was I going to let Ernest get his hands on Flash! Thank you for your approval of Kado.

Acadian: The lamp post is one of my favorite Jerric and Darnand moments, I’m so glad you pointed it out! Thank you for your remarks about Kado, he had a lot to say in a few words.

D. Foxy: I am astonished and humbled. And also Thank you so much, Foxy!

Where we are: Abiene has arrived at the beach hut to teach Jerric some illusion magic.



Chapter 10: Septims, Part 18

Abiene swept into the hut, pink-cheeked and breathless from the wind. Her cold nose pressed into Jerric’s open collar made him laugh. He lifted her over to stand in front of the fire.

“Business first,” she said resolutely, even though she already had her arms around him.

He decided that meant he should quit grinding against her. He stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m ready when you are.”

Abiene removed her cloak and hung it on the wooden peg by the door. “At the guild hall I would give you a potion first, so that you could feel the spell’s effects before you try to cast it. I’m sorry, I forgot to bring one. Do you know how to make a potion that will light the area around you? I don’t remember. I’m afraid I haven’t spent much time with illusion magic since University.”

“Sure. White seed pods and alkanet flowers. I’ve never used one, but I’ve made plenty. Let me check my bag.” Jerric dumped his gathering sack out onto his small table. “Look, here’s… Well, there’s a lot here. No alkanet. I know I found some dried ones, must have given them to Felen.”

Abiene looked away from the jumbled mess, smoothing her skirt. “I’ll cast the spell then, and you try to read it. Like an enchantment. If Darnand is right, you might be able to do it. Are you ready? Here it goes.”

Abiene raised her hand and whispered a word. Green light spilled out of her open palm and seeped into the space around them. Jerric stretched out his magical sense, reading the spell.

It was in his mind. The sense of wrong forced the breath out of him, and he reached out reflexively to shove Abiene. He stopped himself in time, barely. The green light winked away.

“What is it?” she gasped, taking a step back.

“I’m sorry! It’s just… The light was in my head. It’s a trick! There is no light.” He ran a nervous hand through his hair.

Abiene’s eyes were still wide and startled. “You’ve seen a light spell before, haven’t you? You must have!”

“Yeah, but I didn’t know what it was doing. Are other folk all right with this?”

“Of course.” Abiene stepped toward him again. He let her take his hands. “When I’ve healed you, I’ve sent my magicka throughout all of you. It didn’t seem to upset you at all.”

“You weren’t tricking me. That light spell changed my thoughts. It made me see what isn’t there! How can you do that to someone?”

“Jerric, I…” Abiene looked embarrassed and confused. “Illusion magic is… No one means you harm with a light spell.”

Jerric squeezed her hands, still disturbed by his reaction. “I know you don’t mean me any harm. You can cast light around me any time, I trust you. I just won’t pay attention to it, or something.” He drew her closer and ran his palms up to her shoulders, trying to shake off his uneasy feeling. Somehow her hands got under his shirt.

“We should try again,” she said with determination. “You learned your first alteration spell so quickly. I know I can teach you an illusion spell.”

“All right.” He stepped back. “How about one that only I can see by. ‘Eyes at Night,’ or something.”

“That’s an apprentice spell. Light is the one everyone starts with.” She looked thoughtful for a moment. “A weak charm spell isn’t too difficult. I’ll do it first, like before. Are you ready?”

Jerric nodded, and she cast the spell.

It could have been hours later, or only one. Jerric’s head pounded as if he had tried to drown himself in flin. His neck burned with tension, and his legs needed to run. Abiene looked ready to weep. He still had not learned any illusion magic.

“Once again,” Abiene said hopelessly.

“Never mind, I’ll keep using torches.” Jerric reached over and opened the door for some air, then closed it when he saw her shiver. “It’s getting late. You should stay, and I’ll cook us some dinner. I’ll go kill something. There’s always a crab nearby.” He rolled his shoulders, letting go of his tension.

Abiene took a deep breath and let it out. She looked at his hearth dubiously. “Can you even cook here? There’s no… thing you hang the pots upon.”

“It’s just like cooking on a campfire when you don’t have a crane. The hardest part is hauling the water from town. The well here is foul. Sometimes I just use seawater.”

“Eew! Fish — I’m not drinking seawater!”

“Not to drink.” Jerric laughed, his strain easing. “To boil things and wash with.”

“No, thank you! Seawater is dirty.”

“I’m surprised to hear you say that, considering where you’ll put your… That is to say, what you’re willing…” Abiene’s look did not encourage him to continue. “Never mind,” he concluded.

“That’s different.” She smiled up at him, sliding her hands back under his shirt. “I mean there’s the bedchamber, and then there’s what you’d put in the soup. I don’t mind seawater in the washbasin. I just don’t want to swallow it.”

Jerric decided to let that statement go unremarked upon. “I’ll try to remember to bring more water from town. I just keep forgetting the damn bucket.” He began to lose track of what they had been talking about. “Look, my head is killing me. Let’s open the wine.”

His clay mugs were less than elegant, but the vintage was good. He handed Abiene her cup and watched.

“Tamika’s 415!” She was clearly surprised. “This wine is excellent. You shouldn’t, Jerric. It must have cost you more than anything in this room.”

“Well you don’t like beer or ale, and I’m not going to give you cheap wine. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re too fine for this hut. I mean, whenever I picture you in my mind, you’re always in a nice place. Like your room at the guild.”

“You picture me? When?”

“Whenever you’re not here. Last night, for example.” Jerric grabbed his crotch and grinned at her.

Abiene threw her head back, laughing. “You are so rude!”

“Just how you like me. I love to hear you laugh like that, Abiene. Why aren’t you always this way?”

The smile left her face. “People are always measuring me, checking to see if I’m doing anything wrong. Not everyone, but sometimes it’s too much. When you look at me, I know you just see who I am. I don’t have to guard myself with you, Jerric.”

“You can be yourself with anyone. Who you are is good enough. The rest of them can go hump themselves if they don’t like it.”

“I know that’s how you feel. I suppose I just can’t let go of all the expectations. I’m afraid I’ll disappoint them.”

“Disappoint who?”

“I don’t even know any more.” Abiene looked away, chewing her lip.

Jerric took her cup and set it with his on the cluttered table. “Abiene, I don’t mean to upset you. But this is pretty important, I think. Is that why you don’t want people to know about us? Are you ashamed of me?”

“Jerric, don’t.” She wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“Because I’m a Nord? It’s all right to say, I know I’ll never be smart like Darnand. I’m not angry, Abiene. I just wonder, that’s all.” He tried to turn her face toward him, but she pulled away. “Is it the drinking? I haven’t been on a real bender since I got back.”

“Please stop, Jerric.” Her face crumpled in distress.

“Look, don’t cry. Dammit, I’m sorry.”

“There is nothing I would change about you. Nothing,” she choked.

“All right. Hush, Abiene.” He reached out to draw her to him. “I won’t ask again, promise. I’m not going to start saying no to you.”

“You should say no to me!” She hit him on the stomach. “You should say no, because I won’t, I won’t say it! And you’re going to go, and I won’t be here when you return! And what if you don’t? How will I know what’s happened to you, if you never return?” Her words ended in ragged sobs.

Jerric caught her hands, bewildered by her outburst. Everything she had said was something that they already knew. “We’re both here now,” he said softly, trying to soothe her. “This is borrowed time, we should just enjoy it.” He doubted that reasonable talk would help the situation. Instead he held her close until the storm passed.

Eventually Abiene sniffed deeply in the folds of his shirt. Her voice sounded thick with tears and a stuffy nose. “I don’t want them to know that I lost you,” she said in a muffled tone. “When everyone looks at me, it will remind them that you left. It’s too much to bear.”

Jerric didn’t have an answer for that, but he understood it. A sudden glance of pity could feel like a punch in the throat. He still hadn’t been able to face Rhano’s parents, knowing that he stood for everyone they had lost.

He decided there was nothing to be gained from that kind of talk. Maybe he could tease a smile out of her. “Look, you’re making me upset too,” he said, keeping his tone light. “Come on, let’s get our clothes off. We can go swimming, it’s only a little dark and cold. Unless you have a better idea.” He tried not to grin, but he couldn’t help it.

Abiene started laughing through her tears, her hands still twisted in his shirt and shaking. Jerric thought that was a good beginning.

Later he held her in his bed, watching the fire die down. Her skin warmed the length of his side, but he could feel the cold creeping through the wall. She was so still, he thought she had fallen asleep.

“What did you mean, you’re on borrowed time?” she asked him softly.

Jerric wound his fingers in her hair and tried to look at her face, but she kept it turned toward the fire. He spoke quietly too, as if a normal voice could cause the moment to break. “I don’t belong to myself any more. What I need to do, I won’t live through. I’ve seen it in my dreams. There’s no future with me, Abiene. We should go ahead and say goodbye.”

“It’s what they say about you, isn’t it. Lionheart. You’re going to save us from the daedra when they come.” He saw the firelight gleam on her silent tears.

“Not just me, and I have to try. That’s why I’m still around, my purpose. You saw how I was when I got here. You helped me pull myself together again. I’m so sorry that it hurt you.”

Abiene turned her face toward him now, letting him see the depth of her grief. “Don’t you want to live?”

He knew what she was asking. “I can’t hope for us and still do what I need to. I guess a better man could. I’d just keep wanting to take you away somewhere and keep you safe.” He brushed his thumb under her eye, gathering her tears. “There’s a lot for you to live for, Abiene. It’s going to get darker, but there’s still a way through it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean don’t give up, no matter what. It’s not for me to explain.”

She was silent for several minutes. Jerric listened to the embers crackle and the surf outside washing up onto the shore.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t teach you the light spell,” she finally said.

“I couldn’t learn it. There’s a difference.”

“I wish there was more I could do for you.”

“If you think of something, I know you’ll do it.” I wonder when the message will come from Martin, he thought. Each time I hold her could be the last.

Abiene lifted her head to look at him again. “What do you see in your dreams?”

“Fire. Teeth and claws. A daedroth kills me, I think. It’s always the same.” Fresh tears slipped down her cheeks. He felt relieved that they had stopped pretending it would somehow be all right. Better to face this now together than later when she’s alone, he decided. “Don’t worry, I’ll go out fighting.”

“You must go to Leyawiin, Jerric.” Her voice held a desperate note. “You’ll need to for your recommendations anyway. Dagail is the Chapter Head there, she’s a powerful mystic. Dreams can tell you all kinds of things, it might not be what it seems.” She pushed herself up, taking his face in her hands. A burst of pain sent his breath out in a grunt.

“Abiene,” he gasped. “Your knee —”

“I’m sorry!” Her frantic scramble cost him more agony. By the end of it he lay curled around himself, groaning. She sprawled on the floor, rubbing her hip. “I’m so sorry! Let me heal you! Oh, this floor is so sandy…” Her voice trailed into giggles, unsuccessfully smothered.

The pain faded into glittering light, and he rolled onto his back. He found Abiene’s hand still on his side. She held her other hand across her mouth, tears and laughter spilling over it.

Jerric sighed and looked up at the hut’s exposed rafters. “I know this is only temporary. But we could stand a bigger bed.”

This post has been edited by Grits: Jun 1 2011, 03:26 PM

[haute ecole rider]

A bigger bed never hurt anyone. I have a queen size bed, and yet somehow my three-legged cat manages to push me into one little corner of it. How a little thing like him can hog the whole thing is beyond me.

I laughed at the little interaction at the end when Abiene accidentally - uh, kneed Jerric. A little bit of comic relief to balance all the angst that went before.

Poor Jerric - he doesn't understand where the storm is coming from. Typical man - thinks just because they talked about it rationally means that she's fine with their relationship being temporary. Rationally speaking, yes, she's fine with it. But emotionally speaking - uh, no. And it's the emotional part that Jerric is missing out on.

Illusion magic can be quite hard - after all, it's altering another being's state of mind, much as restoration is altering another being's state of - well, being. I always thought it odd that the game treats illusion as being easy to master, while restoration is appropriately difficult. Weird leveling system!

I'm liking Abiene more and more. The reason? Because she loves Jerric just the way he is, and doesn't try to change him. Apparently unlike most women I know, she recognizes that not only is it a futile waste of time, but also if she were to be successful in changing him, she would lose the thing about him that she loves so much in the first place.

[D.Foxy]

“No, thank you! Seawater is dirty.”

“I’m surprised to hear you say that, considering where you’ll put your… That is to say, what you’re willing…” Abiene’s look did not encourage him to continue. “Never mind,” he concluded.

“That’s different.” She smiled up at him, sliding her hands back under his shirt. “I mean there’s the bedchamber, and then there’s what you’d put in the soup. I don’t mind seawater in the washbasin. I just don’t want to swallow it.”

Jerric decided to let that statement go unremarked upon. “I’ll try to remember to bring more water from town. I just keep forgetting the damn bucket.” He began to lose track of what they had been talking about. “Look, my head is killing me. Let’s open the wine.”


This is confusing...

I mean, where is she going to put what? The only thing I can think of connected to seawater is seamen - and it's not possible to swallow seamen, is it?

Huh?

Why is everybody coughing and choking?

Bah! This internet thing is too newfangled for old men like me. And that's why I hate typing on these computas. Why in the old days I would write everything down with pen on paper - and since my pen is quite thick and long, I could write for a long time - and of course the sensation of my pen in my gave me much more pleasure than typing...




Let that be a lesson to you Grits - awaken not the Daedra Dhirtee Innu Endo!!!!!!!

[haute ecole rider]

Bah! This internet thing is too newfangled for old men like me. And that's why I hate typing on these computas. Why in the old days I would write everything down with pen on paper - and since my pen is quite thick and long, I could write for a long time - and of course the sensation of my pen in my gave me much more pleasure than typing...

. . . my pen in my whut?

[mALX]

A burst of pain sent his breath out in a grunt. “Abiene,” he gasped. “Your knee —”

SPEW !!! ROFL !!! Abiene really knows how to kill a mood, ROFL !!! The evening would have been spectacular if she had just allowed Jerric to lead when he was humping her leg. Between her casting (what I am assuming was "Frenzy" on Jerric), crying, then kneeing him in the groin - GAAAAAH !!! She was all out of whack this night !!!

An Awesome write, you really delve into the frailty of Abiene and the inner strength of Jerric in this - huge !!!

[Acadian]

Once again, you display a style that can best be described as silky. I love your ability to show your characters interacting so smoothly and naturally.

“You should say no to me!” She hit him on the stomach. “You should say no, because I won’t, I won’t say it! And you’re going to go, and I won’t be here when you return! And what if you don’t? How will I know what’s happened to you, if you never return?” Her words ended in ragged sobs.'
Perfectly done!

This episode was an absolutely magical blend of serious and sobering thoughts with light humor.

Jerric's nightmares about fire, teeth and claws sent a familiar shiver.

[Ceidwad]

I have to say, I am not 100% up to speed on Jerric's story, but I have been enjoying it so much! I think my favourite bit so far was the prostitution episode in Skingrad - especially when Jerric asks the first guard 'Hello sir, are you a chapel-goer?' before turning to his more worldly comrade and simply stating 'A brothel.' Brilliant! Jerric is very easy to sympathise with - no saint, but very human. You have a great gift for humour, and I look forward to reading more of your story. Well done!

[Grits]

haute ecole rider: You’re right, he thought that since they both knew it, they didn’t have to talk about it. Um, nope. Thankfully his uncertainty let him do what she needed him to do, just shut up and hold on. I should have apologized in advance to all of the fellows for the accidental knee. It sure ended that conversation. You’re completely right about Abiene, changing Jerric is not in her playbook.

Foxy: What, did you say your pen is giving you much more pleasure than your computas? Maybe there is a way to use them both!

mALX: Abiene was definitely out of sorts. She was overdue for a meltdown. Poor Jerric got the knee, but at least it wasn’t another crying jag. I can see him writing a note on his arm for next time: Hump first, then learn spell.

Acadian: I remember Buffy’s dreams of a clannfear, yikes. She overcame her fear so beautifully when she became a Daedra Slayer. Hopefully Jerric will also get to the source of his worries. The elegant solutions provided by illusion magic seem to be out of his reach. For now he’s a still single serving of Nord in a can for a daedroth. Thank you for your kind words. Once folk start laughing and crying, it’s hard to get them to stop.

Ceidwad: Thank you, Ceidwad, I’m so glad you’re reading! There are some dark times coming from where you are in the story, but it’s not all gloom.

Where we are: In Anvil, training and earning some gold. Also, we may have intermittent short breaks brought to you by RL and summer, but we hope to be able to continue posting regularly.




Chapter 11 Holidays: Part 1


Jerric and Darnand passed through the tidy farmyard, scattering chickens as they went. A gaggle of grey geese raised their heads behind them, honking their remarks into the chilly air. Jerric turned and closed the gate behind them. He raised his hand in farewell to the Nord woman standing in the open doorway of her cottage. Rhano had been right. The years had not been kind to Maeva.

The two men headed back down the dirt track away from Whitmond. All of the farmhouses in the small community had been built clustered together, with their fields and pastures spreading around them. It made for a pleasant walk through cultivated land.

“What do you think?” asked Jerric.

“I think tackling a band of marauders by ourselves sounds reckless.”

“No, about Maeva.” Jerric knew his friend wasn’t ready to decide if he would do the job. He wanted to give him a little more time to think.

“You don’t see many dark-haired Nords.”

“Darnand, are you telling me you spent that whole time looking at her hair?”

“Well, I saw why they call her Maeva the Buxom.”

“Plus she has a set of hips that a man could hang on to," Jerric remarked. "She works that farm alone. She must be as strong as a horse.”

“It appears that she perspires like a horse. She is not overly pretty.”

“If you put a Nord on the Gold Coast, there’s bound to be some sweating, even in Evening Star. Anyway, she’s lonely, and I think she likes us. She likes me, at least. I guess that makes her pretty enough.” Jerric realized he had just summed up his general approach with women.

“She is married," Darnand pointed out. "Remember Bjalfi the Contemptible?”

“She’s married now. I don’t think this Bjalfi is going to hand over the mace and trot along home. ‘The Contemptible’ is no joke, leaving his woman is the worst kind of betrayal. Bjalfi is a disgrace.”

Darnand halted and stared at Jerric. “You would kill a man to get under his wife’s skirt?”

“Of course not! That’s a fine thing to say to me.” Jerric unclenched his fists as they continued down the path. “I’m just saying I can see how it might work out that way.” They passed a small flock of sheep headed slowly up the hill, tended by an old man and a young dog. The shepherd gave them a gap-toothed grin as they passed.

“The reward she could give us is nothing compared to what we could loot from the gang,” Jerric continued. “I mean salvage. They might even have some enchanted gear. I can’t do it alone; it would be foolish to try. I’ll need at least one other mage with me, and it would be best if we could find some sneaky archer.” Darnand already seemed to think of them as a team, but Jerric didn’t want to make assumptions.

“Penetrating a marauders’ fortress will require a different mindset than simply reacting to an attack on one’s person.”

“Yeah.”

“Is Fort Strand not within the Legion’s jurisdiction?”

“No, it’s County Anvil’s problem. The Legion won’t do anything without the right parchment from the castle, and no one who knows what’s going on up at the fort is alive to fill out the reports. Anvil Militia is busy patrolling for daedra and tending their winter crops, they’re not going to go looking for trouble in a ruin. And it’s way too far for the City Guard. It’s actually a pretty good spot to hole up, if you’re outside the law.” Dammit, Jerric thought. That was probably a little too much truth.

They made the turn onto the Gold Road and headed down toward the Anvil Main Gate. The sun had dropped low enough to shine in their eyes. Jerric’s thoughts turned to dinner. The Mages Guild always laid a good table. He gave himself an experimental sniff. Not good enough, he decided. Perhaps the Fighters Guild. He was in a mood for an evening of beer and storytelling. There was also The Flowing Bowl, of course. If he dined there he would only have a short stagger down the beach between his last ale and his pillow. Then Abiene quietly filled his mind. He imagined her with hunger in her eyes and the firelight golden on her skin. It was easy to stay silent and let Darnand think.

“I think we should recruit some help,” Darnand finally said. “There’s a Bosmer staying at the guild hall who is in need of coin. A hunter. She might be willing to come along.”

“A hunter in the Mages Guild?”

“I did not inquire as to what, or whom, she hunts. She is an archer and an illusionist, among other things.”

“That sounds perfect.”

Now that they had agreed to do the job, Jerric let his mind move on to other matters. He estimated the time it would take to walk the rest of the way to town, weighing it against the list of questions he had for Darnand.

Darnand spoke before he had chosen one. “I know that look. What is it that you would like to discuss?”

Jerric decided he should just stop wondering how Darnand guessed these things. “Well, I was just trying to pick a question.”

“Perhaps I can render assistance. What is the general subject?”

“Necromancy.”

“Ah. My understanding is still quite limited.” Darnand gave Jerric his thoughtful look. “Hmm… How do skeletons work, or How do you make a zombie?”

Jerric laughed out loud. He recognized his own inflection in Darnand’s phrasing. “How do skeletons work?”

“An excellent question. Please remember that my response only reflects my current understanding.”

“All right. Consider me advised.”

“The undead skeleton is a construct, made from mortal remains. During the enchantment ritual, the necromancer converts magicka into the life energy the skeleton requires to operate. He also imbues the skeleton with his own will to direct it. Part of the skeleton’s energy is used to maintain its structural integrity, while the rest allows the skeleton to carry out its function. The skeleton can be recharged with magicka like a weapon. Physically damaging it causes it to use up its energy repairing itself, eventually breaking the enchantment. Of course destroying it utterly suits the same purpose, it will deplete itself in an instant trying to repair catastrophic damage.”

“Do you think you could make one?” Jerric felt his stomach twist at the thought.

“I can imagine why you might think it possible.” Darnand’s expression looked more intense than usual. “That path has opened to me, but I will not take it. You must understand that even this knowledge could make me suspect, in the Guild’s current political climate. I would not have you admit what I have told you and by extension implicate yourself.”

Implicate myself in what, Jerric wondered. He decided to stick to the subject of skeletons. “That explains a lot. How they can lurch about for a century, then fall to pieces when you smack them with a hammer. And why they’re still hanging around places, even after their masters are gone.” Jerric glanced over at Darnand. His moment of concern seemed to have passed.

“We discussed trapping soul energy before. Do you suppose it is possible to trap a skeleton’s soul energy?”

Jerric thought for a moment. “Yeah, because it’s magicka from a necromancer being used instead of life energy. Wait, no, because it’s an animated construct that needs to be recharged.” He felt an unfamiliar sensation. It was his brow furrowing.

“An animated construct that can…” Darnand encouraged him.

“Cut your head off? No, wait! Repair itself! Like Abiene’s new restoration! So yes, you can trap the soul energy of a skeleton.” He looked over triumphantly.

Darnand gave him a small smile. “Indeed. Although I confess I have never done so.”

Jerric slowed his steps to buy more time. “What about the skeleton’s spirit?” he asked. “What does that do?”

“The mortal’s spirit would be gone long before the necromancer began to work with the remains. A zombie is a similar process, with a fresher body. The nature of the remains helps determine its use for the necromancer. And of course the enchantments used in their creation differ. I expect that something in the difference allows skeletons to wield weapons, while zombies rely upon unarmed attacks.”

Jerric looked down the road at the Main Gate. If he wanted more, he would have to be quick. “So the spirit could become a ghost?”

“The ethereal undead are spirits, the physical, constructs. That is of course an oversimplification. Some spirits are cursed by others to stay with their physical remains, or wherever the necromancer places them. Other spirits linger in this realm on their own. There is far more that I do not yet understand. Perhaps for now you have more questions regarding skeletons.”

“Yeah. My skeleton, Slim. When I summon him, I’m bringing the real him here from wherever he is, right?”

“Yes.”

“And the first time I used the spell to find him and make the connection, that time was different.”

“Yes. I expect you used a ritual to identify him. You will remember it was much more difficult.”

“Yeah.”

“It is of great interest to me that you found it so. For most, the difficulty of bringing the summons pales in comparison to their first struggle to control it.”

“Uh...”

“An academic side note. Please, continue.”

“So some day in some ruin, I could fight the real Slim.”

“It is unlikely, but possible.”

“Why doesn’t…” Jerric stopped to think about it first. “The energy he uses while he’s with me comes from me, from my magicka. Then he goes back to his original condition.” Jerric got the sick feeling back in his stomach. “Summoning is… Well, we couldn’t do that kind without necromancers.”

“Indeed. That is why summoning is considered a dark art. Why some stand against it.”

“Like Carahil.”

“Daedric summoning is considered no better by some. However, I would not wish to summon something that I held with affection to suffer and die on my behalf.”

“What about animals? Are they real bears from somewhere that spriggans summon?”

Darnand stopped in the road. “I am afraid this discussion requires far more time than the afternoon allows. I suggest we postpone it. For now, I have business with my horse.”

Jerric blinked, surprised by Darnand’s candor. Then he realized they were standing outside Horse Whisperer Stables. “You have a horse?”

Darnand raised an eyebrow. “Indeed.”

“Why didn’t we ride to Whitmond?”

Astonishment flooded Darnand’s face. “You invited me to walk to Whitmond with you.”

Jerric laughed. “And you’re supposed to be the smart one. Well, at least it’s a nice day. And the climb up the hill probably did you good.”

“I am certain that it stimulated your appetite. Shall I meet you at the guild hall, or would you like me to introduce you to my horse?” Jerric could see the smile in Darnand’s eyes.

“I’ll stay with you. One more thing.” Jerric felt a little like a child with his questions, but he was too curious to give up easily.

Darnand sighed. His eyebrows appeared to be engaged in some kind of struggle.

“Slim’s axe,” Jerric said quickly. “I’ve thought about giving him a better weapon. But then he might kill someone with it wherever he is.”

“Such actions are not without consequences. Though those who would seek out a necromancer’s lair should be prepared for the possibility of meeting a skeleton that has been armed and trained by a Nord Battlemage. So some day in some ruin, you might find a necromancer thanking you for your efforts.”

Jerric felt an instant of horror, then he laughed. “Now you’re messing with me.”

“Indeed. Let us go to the horses.”

This post has been edited by Grits: Jun 5 2011, 02:03 AM

[haute ecole rider]

Ai yi yi! I always thought summons were a piece of the spellcaster's magicka - an extension of their energy so to speak. But the way you describe it feels like it might be more effective. Hmmm, food for thought.

And Darnand has a horse?

My plan with Fort Strand always involved using the shadows and sneaking around, lots of camouflage and detect life spells.

[Acadian]

What delightful banter between Jerric and Darnand! So they are considering a task in Fort Strand. And a Bosmeri huntress at the guild who is an illusionist? That sounds excitingly familiar, since you don't see too many mystic archers.

It was great fun to hear Darnand's thoughts on soul gem filling and summons. Very interesting and well-thought out.

As ever, just a real pleasure to read!


Oh my. I do have one sort of writing nit. It is a small one and quite subjective. To make matters worse, it takes a moment or two to explain. I see a tendency for you to minimize use of speech tags - to the point that it causes the reader to work a little bit to keep track of who is speaking. At least for me, that is slightly distracting. Here is an example where I would recommend a few more speech tags. Again, it is certainly possible to sort out who is speaking but additional speech tags would let it flow without having to think about it. ---

“Well, I saw why they call her Maeva the Buxom.”
“Plus she has a set of hips that a man could hang on to. She works that farm alone. She must be as strong as a horse.”
“It appears that she perspires like a horse. She is not overly pretty.”
“If you put a Nord on the Gold Coast, there’s bound to be some sweating, even in Evening Star. Anyway, she’s lonely, and I think she likes us. She likes me, at least. I guess that makes her pretty enough.”
“She is married. Remember Bjalfi the Contemptible?”
“She’s married now. I don’t think this Bjalfi is going to hand over the mace and trot along home. ‘The Contemptible’ is no joke, leaving his woman is the worst kind of betrayal. Bjalfi is a disgrace.”

Now, please remember that I pride myself on being a very simple writer. One of the casualties of that is that I read the same way. So. . . you can certainly ignore this and not hurt my feelings.

This post has been edited by Acadian: Jun 5 2011, 12:33 AM

[Zalphon]

I like that discussion on summoning

[Ceidwad]

I've caught up now. I love the fine detail you weave into your story and of course the witheringly hilarious humour. Your characters are marvellously alive on every page of your story and every page makes me laugh.

Some of my favourites from the last few pages:

[Abiene] rested her hand on Darnand’s shoulder and lifted her skirt to step over the bench. Jerric looked, hoping to catch a glimpse of thigh. Then he quickly looked away, hoping he hadn’t been caught.

Surely he got a good enough look before? Classic Jerric.

“What happened?” Gulitte asked Darnand eagerly. Darnand’s knuckles were still white on his kahve mug. Jerric considered kicking Gulitte, but he couldn’t get an angle.

Cursed geometry! Brilliant touch of detail there.

It could have been hours later, or only one. Jerric’s head pounded as if he had tried to drown himself in flin. His neck burned with tension, and his legs needed to run. Abiene looked ready to weep. He still had not learned any illusion magic.

“Once again,” Abiene said hopelessly.

“Never mind, I’ll keep using torches.”

The subtlety of illusion eludes Jerric? I guess that's the price he pays for being a jack of all trades rather than a full-time mage. But hey, as long as those trusty torches are around, who needs magicka? Love Abiene's feeling of exasperation here.

“You don’t see many dark-haired Nords.”

“Darnand, are you telling me you spent that whole time looking at her hair?”

“Well, I saw why they call her Maeva the Buxom.”

“Plus she has a set of hips that a man could hang on to," Jerric remarked. "She works that farm alone. She must be as strong as a horse.”

“It appears that she perspires like a horse. She is not overly pretty.”

Lovely rapport, as ever, between Jerric and Darnand. I wonder how Jerric would have Maeva exploit her horse-strength? Then again, probably shouldn't go there.....

And then I also enjoyed the discussion of necromancy and summoning. Very logical and well-thought through.

[mALX]

“Plus she has a set of hips that a man could hang on to," Jerric remarked. "She works that farm alone. She must be as strong as a horse.”

“It appears that she perspires like a horse. She is not overly pretty.”

“If you put a Nord on the Gold Coast, there’s bound to be some sweating, even in Evening Star. Anyway, she’s lonely, and I think she likes us. She likes me, at least. I guess that makes her pretty enough.”

ROFL !!! Jerric is as natural as they come, and for once Darnand is the hilarious one, ROFL !!!

He felt an unfamiliar sensation. It was his brow furrowing.

Loved that line! Jerric is used to thinking split-second on his feet, not pondering weighty matters, lol.

Darnand revealed a subtle humor in this chapter that rounded him out a bit!

Awesome Write !!!

[SubRosa]

Caught back up again. I am not surprised that Jerric reacted badly to his first taste of illusion magic. He is a man of direct action, the kind who does things with his own two hands. I can see why the idea of something that subtly alters his perceptions would unsettle him.

Also a nice bit of world-building with the summoning of undead. Isn't it interesting that you can only summon monstrous things in this game? I think the devs just did not want to go to the time and effort to create a 'good' class of summons, so they just recycled the daedra and undead instead.

So now Jerric and Darnand (and Buffy?) are an adventuring team? A nice bit of realism with the understanding that one person cannot hope to tackle a marauder fortress by themself. In the game of course, all your enemies are kind enough to spread themselves out, never use lookouts to warn of dangers, organize a defense against incursions, or pay any attention to the guy dying from arrow-fire right beside them. How refreshing to see a bit of reality instead!

[Grits]

haute ecole rider: I’m out on a limb a little with summoning, I’m glad it seems to work. Now that Jerric has someone who will answer his questions, he’s thinking more about magely matters. Sneak and snipe is how I always handle Fort Strand, too, as well as the Azura quest. Then along came Jerric with his heavy feet and shiny suit. He needs a different plan.

Acadian: You’re so right about that section you pointed out, I removed too many speech tags while I was editing. I always hope to make reading as free of distractions as possible, thank you so much for bringing that to my attention! I added a few speech tags to smooth that part out.

The Bosmer invasion continues! Jerric was lucky to find her, I hear that Bravil is the place for an archer to be this season. I’ve finally made her into a game character so that I would have a better idea how to write her, and we have been having so much fun. She is pretty much the opposite of Jerric! Darnand is finally enjoying Jerric’s company, I’m glad it showed.

Zalphon: I’m glad you liked it! I thought I should get the basics down before I start adding things.

Ceidwad: I think Jerric could always stand to see a little more. Thank you for your kind words, I’m so glad you’re enjoying the story! It’s fun to write Jerric and Darnand out in the world together, where Darnand is less likely to get annoyed by Jerric. I’m glad the necromancy/summoning worked for you, there are some fun things to add if I ever get to it.

mALX: It was fun to show Darnand loosening up a little. You are so right about how Jerric thinks! Thank you, mALX!

SubRosa: You have identified Jerric’s issue with illusion magic perfectly. Just about the worst thing he can imagine himself doing is acting on a lie, which is what illusion could do to him. I had to postpone the discussion of summoning animals until I figure out how to do it in the story, I think conjuration could provide all sorts of interesting spells. Hopefully this hunter can help shed some light. I love Teresa’s mountain lion in your videos! I agree, the game could have done a lot more with summoning.

Where we are: Planning an assault on the Fort Strand marauders.



Chapter 11 Holidays: Part 2


Jerric stood alone in the mages guild dining hall, waiting for Darnand to find the hunter. The tables had already been laid for the evening meal. Not for you, he reminded himself. You smell too much like work. Darnand strode into the room and stopped at Jerric’s side without speaking. A small figure followed him on silent feet.

Jerric quickly looked her over. She wore her dark hair pulled off her face into a high braid that hung down her back, he couldn’t see how far. Her skin looked browned by the sun, her eyes the light green of new leaves. Her delicate ears swooped up majestically, framing her heart-shaped face. Her fine features wore a calculating look. He thought that if he reached out and tweaked her adorable little nose the way he would like to, he would probably draw back a stump. Her erect carriage and springy stride reminded him of an acrobat. She looked trim and strong in her simple green dress. He guessed that under it, her shoulders and back would be tightly packed with muscle. Her front was nicely round, he noticed. There was much to admire in her diminutive frame. He decided that a better time to study it would be later.

“I’m Jerric,” he said.

“Lildereth.” Her voice made him think of clear water. She was examining him critically under a sharply angled brow.

“Pleased to meet you.”

“Couldn’t you find anyone bigger?” she asked Darnand. “A dead man could hear his footsteps.”

“You’ll be able to stand behind me and shoot between my knees,” Jerric told her.

“I’m sure you don’t even use your sword,” she retorted. “You just whip out your meat and beat them to death with it.”

Jerric’s eyebrows went up. “The mouth on you,” he breathed in admiration. Felen glanced over at them as he passed with his stack of books.

Darnand looked as if he was experiencing a pain. “Perhaps we might retire to a place where we can talk. I suggest the Count’s Arms.”

“How about The Flowing Bowl,” said Jerric. “Wilbur doesn’t like me. Plus the sun will be going down soon, and the best place to see it is the harbor.” The other two were giving him looks. “What?”

“Nothing,” said Darnand. “The Flowing Bowl, then. Let us proceed.”

“I want to check your gear,” Lildereth said to Jerric. “You keep everything here?”

“Yeah, in the basement.”

“Let’s go there first.”

Lildereth examined Jerric’s gear without comment. Jerric decided she was saving up her remarks for a venue less crowded with curious Associates. The basement workroom was buzzing with tense students trying to finish their tasks before dinner.

Soon she stepped back from Jerric’s cupboard and gave him a nod. He took that to mean she was satisfied, or at least finished looking. “You don’t need to show me yours,” he said to her with a grin. A sideways glance told him she was amused. “Let’s get over to the Bowl. I’m afraid you might not make it back here in time for dinner.”

She shrugged her reply. Jerric knew that Darnand was never concerned about his next meal. The three of them made their way Harborside to The Flowing Bowl.

The tables inside were crowded, and the air full of muttering. They found Caenlorn behind the bar, looking hassled. He slammed three bottles onto the planks without taking their order. “Beer!” he announced. “Take it or leave it! Meat’s not ready yet!”

Darnand put the coins down, and Jerric scooped up the bottles. “Do you have anything left from lunch?” Jerric asked Caenlorn.

Caenlorn’s eyes began to slightly protrude. His mouth worked violently, but no sounds made their way out. Jerric decided to flee before the mer got his tongue organized.

Lildereth led them upstairs and out a narrow door Jerric had never noticed. He followed her up a ladder to the Bowl’s flat roof. The spare furnishings told him that a select few regularly enjoyed the harbor’s sights from this semi-private perch. Lildereth quickly pulled three chairs together. She seated herself with a smile, indicating the vivid sky with the sweep of one hand.

“Sunset,” Jerric said, grinning. He handed her a bottle. Darnand took one and seated himself gingerly in the Bosmer-sized chair. Jerric simply sat down on the boards. He thought Caenlorn might have a fatal fit of temper if he broke something. The evening was too fine to ask for that kind of weight on his conscience.

Jerric could see ships’ masts and rigging, Anvil Castle, and the top of the lighthouse from his position on the roof. The railing around the street side appeared to be solid, but the fading light shone through at regular intervals through vertical slits. Jerric knew that from the street, the roof appeared to be peaked. This spot would make an excellent lookout over the harbor. He marveled that Lildereth had shown it to them.

Darnand sat back with his bottle in his hands, watching him. Jerric decided that meant he should do the talking. She hasn’t agreed yet, he reminded himself.

“There’s a Nord woman in Whitmond, name of Maeva the Buxom,” Jerric began. “She married a man named Bjalfi the Contemptible, if you can believe it. Her Fa gave them a family heirloom on their wedding day. Rockshatter, a mace. It’s enchanted with shock and weakness to shock, so you can guess it’s valuable. Also I wouldn’t want to get hit with it, at least not more than once. Anyway, this Bjalfi grabbed up the mace and ran off to Fort Strand to find his fortune with the marauders there. We’re assuming he’s alive and working with them. Maeva wants her mace back. She was unspecific as to what we should do with Bjalfi.”

Lildereth’s expression was hard for Jerric to read. She looks thoughtful, he decided.

“Are you hiring me, or would we be partners?” she asked.

Jerric glanced at Darnand. “Partners,” Darnand said. “Even split.”

“So I won’t get paid if we decide it’s a bad job.”

“No,” Darnand answered her. Jerric realized there was a lot he hadn’t considered.

“What do you know about the marauders?” she asked.

“Nothing yet,” said Darnand. “I expect we should watch the fort for at least a day to get an idea of their numbers. Jerric will ask around at the Fighters Guild to see if he can get an idea how the ruin is laid out underground. He trusts that no one there would be in contact with the gang. The reward from Maeva will be minimal. We anticipate selling what we find in the fort.”

Lildereth looked thoughtful some more. “I know what you can do,” she said to Darnand. Then her eyes went to Jerric. “And I’ve heard of you. What else should I know?”

Jerric’s mind went to the lava tunnels he had passed through in the Deadlands. “I’m not so great underground,” he admitted. He hoped he didn’t look as uncomfortable as he felt. “I get lost sometimes. I can find my way back once I come across something I’ve killed, though. I just need landmarks.”

Lildereth’s expression didn’t change. “I suppose you’re not much of a liar,” she remarked. “We need to go through some caves first for practice. There are plenty along the coast. I’d like to see how you move before I agree to this job.” She looked over at Darnand. “You too, I don’t want a fireball in my back if you get jumpy.”

“Fair enough,” said Jerric. Darnand nodded.

“Do you have questions for me?” she asked.

Darnand answered first. “Felen vouched for you. Should concerns arise, I will surely ask you to address them.”

“I’ll know what I think when I see you shoot,” Jerric told her. He knew Lildereth would not take that as an insult. “I guess a cave trip is a good idea, even if we don’t run up against anything more fearsome than a mudcrab.”

Lildereth made a decisive nod. “About your gear, Nord. Whatever we plan, we will rely on stealth. I’m not taking you into the shadows in plate armor and mail. You make enough noise just breathing.” She looked him straight in the eye. “I’m not asking about your helm, but I could tell it’s enchanted.”

Jerric had been expecting this complaint. Her expression had said a lot when she examined his armor. “I’ll talk to Morvayn about some leather. You’re right about my helm, that could make up the difference. What else?”

“Can either of you cast a spell of silence?” she asked them.

“You mean curse someone’s magicka?” said Jerric.

“No, a spell to magically dampen the sounds that you make.”

Jerric glanced at Darnand. He looked as surprised as Jerric felt. Darnand gave his head a small shake. “Uh, no,” said Jerric. “Sounds like illusion magic.”

“It is.” A shadow passed over Lildereth’s face, and then it was gone. She ran a scathing glance over Jerric. “It would be useful for someone like you.”

Jerric shook his head. “It would have to come from a scroll or a potion. My head’s not made for illusion.”

“Such a spell would be of interest to me,” Darnand told her. “Perhaps we can discuss it at a later time.”

Lildereth gave Darnand another brisk nod. “Let’s talk about potions,” she said to Jerric. “I have all the poisons I’ll need. In addition to the usual restoratives, I would suggest you bring some to provide a chameleon effect, to help keep you hidden. If we get in a real scrape, you’ll be the one out there trading steel. They won’t be able to find me, if I’m doing my job. I suppose you’re familiar with shield magic.” She looked over at Darnand. “Mage?”

“If it comes to fighting, I shall conjure a daedra to increase our number, then fall back with fire spells. Perhaps a fire atronach. You might absorb any stray attacks, Jerric, and her fire will make it harder for the enemy to distinguish her attacks from mine.”

When Darnand finished speaking, Lildereth looked back over at Jerric.

“I could spin a fancy tale, but what I’ll likely do is summon Slim and go in swinging,” Jerric said. “Maybe I should summon Precious, though, if we’re using fire to confuse them.”

Lildereth’s eyebrows went up, and her lush little mouth began to form a question.

“Slim is a skeleton. Precious is his scamp,” Darnand said to Lildereth. “Are you able to summon an ally?”

“A skeleton,” she said ruefully. “But I can’t always control her. She might attack either one of you.”

“She?” Darnand and Jerric both asked. They shared a skeptical glance.

“Yes, she. Why not? Must you humans assume that all dangerous creatures are male? Besides, I can tell from her pelvis that she was once a woman.”

“Oh,” said Darnand. His expression said the rest.

“Ugh,” Jerric agreed. He decided he didn’t want to know any more about that subject.

“We should discuss security issues,” said Darnand. “Specifically, how we will examine the contents of locked containers. I have some alteration magic, but my spells are unreliable.” Both men looked at Lildereth.

“I don’t suppose you’re a locksmith,” she remarked to Jerric.

He laughed. “I hope I don’t insult you by assuming that you are.”

Lildereth gave a small smile. For an instant she looked hauntingly beautiful, then her business expression slid back into place. “How will you two see in the dark? Their living quarters will doubtlessly be well-lit, but getting there unseen will be critical.” She paused, looking straight at Jerric. “What I mean is, no torches.”

“I have the appropriate spell,” Darnand said.

Jerric sighed and shook his head. “So far I’m not bringing much to this party.”

Lildereth gave him another candid look. She spoke with crisp precision. “If I am able to work as I plan, you will be needed only to carry home the salvage. If I am not, you are the most likely to see your blood on the floor. That is the nature of our respective roles.”

“Uh, right.” Jerric saw that Lildereth was still watching him expectantly. “Oh, I have a ring that will let me see life energy. I can follow your life signs, and use a potion if I need to watch my footing. I guess I’ll be keeping my calcinator hot while you take your turn watching the fort. Any idea what I would need to make a potion of silencing like that spell you mentioned?”

“No,” Lildereth replied quietly. “I learned the spell in Valenwood, from a Khajiit. Perhaps an alchemist from Elsweyr would have a better idea.”

Her expression brought more questions to his mind, but Jerric knew they would have to wait. He looked a little harder at Lildereth. She didn’t appear any older than he was, but he knew that meant next to nothing. This isn’t your Running Wolf team, he reminded himself. Working together doesn’t make you friends. After the job, you may never see this elf again. Forget about what might make her look sad.

“A cave, then,” Darnand spoke up. His eyes were on the Bosmer. “Do you have a suggestion?”

Lildereth smiled wider this time. “I know just the one.”

This post has been edited by Grits: Jun 7 2011, 06:36 PM

[mALX]

Jerric's huge appetite keeps me rolling, you pop it in at the funniest times! Lildereth is certainly an interesting addition, I like this trio, it is bringing out the best in Darnand and Jerric both - I love seeing the two of them back working side by side again, they play so well off each other. Awesome Chapter, and intriguing !!