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

[mALX]

Holy Crap !!! This chapter had me riveted from beginning to end !!! I didn't take a breath till Jerric's last line !!! Jerric's inner thoughts ruled this chapter and led it through one of the most powerful battles scenes I've ever read !!!


This was AWESOME :

Redeemer whispered into Jerric’s hand. He thought about the centuries to come that this mer should see after he had gone to dust. I’m taking all of that away, he thought, all of the evil she might do as well as any reparation. Tension coiled in his legs. He wanted to kick her sword within her reach.

Why am I hesitating, Jerric wondered. I won’t trade this mer’s life for my friends.’

It’s not just her life that I’m ending, he finally realized. It’s the hope that I might become what Martin already thinks of me. This strike makes me a murderer. I told Jauffre I don’t have any honor, and now I’m going to make it true.

Jerric stepped around the fire, careful not to let his shadow fall across the sleeping mer. One stroke ended her life. Magicka flooded in through his sword arm in a welcome rush. He thought that shame would follow, but instead he felt its curious absence.

The end, the realization that Jerric had been hit by a command spell and turned on his own friends in there - HUGE !!! I am speechless, gobbling like a turkey ... and humbly bow down to the master Grits !!!!!!!!!!!!!! AWESOME WRITE !!!!!

[Acadian]

And down to business in Fort Strand!

'Ring on, ring off, ring on again. This could get annoying.'
Ask Lildereth. I'm sure she'll tell Jerric that you get used to it when seeing those pink glows keeps you alive.

'Lildereth oiled the hinges when they came to a rusty gate.'
This is a beautiful tiny touch that shows the author has clearly walked the details of the scene carefully through in her agile mind.

Jerric's hesitation at killing the sleeping mer speaks volumes to his nature. He is used to declaring himself then smiting his foes honorably. Again, Lildereth could tell him much about the requirement for less sturdy fighters to make hard, preemptive choices. Well done!

'More stones than sense, Jerric thought, watching him die. Charging in like I would have done when he should have sounded the alarm.'
Must be ex-Fighters Guild with those stones! I love how Jerric pokes fun at himself here.

'Keep one sight potion in case you have to run. He couldn’t picture doing that last part.'
Again, Jerric shows the heroic stuff that makes him Jerric.

The concept of Jerric being turned by a command spell was brilliant. For what it is worth, it did not click for me at all until Jerric and Darnand spelled it all out at the end. That is, as it was happening, I was lost, wondering if you had made a mistake about a 'Breton'. I stopped and recounted the races you listed initially, then scratched my head in confusion until it became clear. Then I went back and reread it and it made sense. I guess I'm saying that it went over my simple head on the first read. The clues you gave were simply too subtle for me. I don't know if that is just me or not - I readily admit that I am a simple reader and require Mrs Acadian to tell me who did it even after a murder mystery show is complete. Let me repeat though, that the concept of our hero being turned by a command spell is absolutely inspired - both in its cleverness and terror. Wow!

[haute ecole rider]

Whoa! For a moment I thought Jerric had PTSD! Flashback time, ya know? For all I know, maybe that's exactly what a command spell does! In that case, how would it affect someone who's never fought for his/her life in the past? Scary stuff, that. I admit I had the same moment of confusion as Acadian - Breton? What Breton? Where in Oblivion did he come from?? It really added to the impact of the command spell, especially once Lildereth and Darnand explained it to Jerric (and me).

[SubRosa]

Ring on, ring off, ring on again. This could get annoying.
So it does! This is why I rarely use detect life in the game. Plus I like the surprise of walking around a corner and finding myself face to face with a troll.

I loved Jerric's dilemna concerning the sleeping elf. I hate the idea of attacking a sleeping person too, even when I know they are just going to attack me when they get up. He did the only thing he could do of course, but that does not make it easy. Now I wonder if he will be receiving a visit from a man in black the next time he sleeps?

A wonderful description of the Command spell taking over Jerric. It is nice to see this, as it never happens to the player in the game, most writers never think to have it used against their protagonist. Just like antagonists using detect life when people turn invisible in front of their eyes, or a dispel magic on their friend when they suddenly turn on them and attack.

Oh skitt,
This was an inventive way to circumvent the board's swear filter!

Darnand rode him down to the floor.
Hubba hubba! I guess if we cannot have Valdemar/Alain slash, we can make due with Darnand/Bjalfi!

“Well,” Jerric said after a moment, “at least they’re not sitting around talking about us.”
This was a perfect ending to an exciting fight. It looked pretty one-sided at first, but things really changed after Jerric switched teams. Nicely done.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Jul 19 2011, 05:05 PM

[treydog]

And my reading (and spamming) continues apace!

Chapter 7, Part 1

This is another one where I would have to simply copy and quote the whole post to highlight the “good parts.”

Even so- I will pull two paragraphs that define so much of what I love about this story:

[quote]One hand met the sword hilt. His fingers closed around it, and he clutched it like a drowning man holds on to a rope. He wiped the sweat from his face and told himself that if the daedra could breathe his air, then he could breathe theirs. He opened his eyes and focused them on the sword. A long, straight steel blade, double edged and stained with blood. The edges were squared off near the crossguard. He recognized the design on the hilt as Batul’s work. This sword had belonged to someone from Kvatch.[/quote]

[quote]Jerric pushed himself to his feet and deliberately slowed his breathing. The sword’s grip fit comfortably in his right hand, and its heft and balance felt familiar. There was plenty of room for his left when he cupped the rounded pommel in his palm and made an experimental thrust. When he got his arms moving, he began to calm down. He stood by the Gate and looked around him, and the sword’s weight in his hand held him together. If he could not close the Gate here, he would have to go into the Deadlands and look for a way. The Gate is behind me, he thought. Home is behind me. I need to go forward.[/quote]

Chapter 7, Part 2

[quote]The narrow, sloping hallway beyond appeared to be empty, so he jogged up in the near darkness to the door at the top. It opened from the center with a sound like tearing cartilage.[/quote]

Now THAT is a simile! Perfect description for the awful, organic feel of those towers in the Deadlands.

[quote]Disgust drove away his wonder. He had discovered a fountain, but it did not contain water. He spit and gagged for a moment until he brought himself back under control. Somehow this blood fountain had healing properties, he could feel it. He told himself that squeamishness and curiosity were luxuries he must put aside. He just needed to stay alive. He drank from the fountain and pretended it was something else to keep it down.[/quote]

Yes. Again, you show Jerric’s humanity- and his determination.

[quote]Jerric closed his eyes and reached in his mind for anything that would keep him on his feet. He thought of his sister's children even now trapped in the burning city. He imagined Fjirsten with her naughty gap-toothed smile, Hrolgar's small hand in his, the three of them walking in his Ma's sunny garden. Right now he should be with them. Grief surged through him, and rage followed it. He had failed them, but he was still alive. Anger gave him new strength. As long as he lived, he would keep going.[/quote]

I said that I would return to the statement that I would like to write like that if I ever grew up. This is another passage that reinforces that feeling.

[quote]Jerric’s joy splintered into new grief. He couldn’t bring himself to leave this man, not after he had lost all hope and then found him. Every moment that he delayed closing the Gate allowed more daedra to attack his city. He thought of Captain Matius and the Kvatch Guard. They held the barricade, barely. How many of them would fall while he stood here, paralyzed with indecision? What had his family suffered while he was wandering lost in the dim tower? Menien's courage was a balm to Jerric, but it was also an arrow through his heart.[/quote]

Wow. Just… wow. And of course Jerric gives Menien the dagger.

Chapter 7, Part 3

[quote]Jerric was astonished. He looked around at the tense, attentive faces, too embarrassed to speak. Many of these men had hauled him off to the drunk tank more than once. Public intoxication and brawling weren’t serious crimes, but he knew his arrest record took up a significant amount of parchment at the prison. To be recognized on sight by most of the law enforcement in Cyrodiil’s second largest city was something of an accomplishment.[/quote]

These moments that reveal Jerric’s history make him so real to us. And the contrast between the carefree brawler and prankster is even more stark as the story goes on.

I am going to skip ahead a bit, even though it is too late to avoid spamming your thread…

The retaking of the castle is one of the hardest “quests” in the game- not because of fear of dying- or not JUST that. I hate to lose companions- I feel that I have failed if any of the Guards or Legion troops get killed. You describe the chaos and the vain hope turning to despair as brilliantly as I have come to expect.

[quote]“I’m back!” announced Rilian, dropping down between them with a grin. “We’re on the edge of the Arena. I looked at the curbs. My father used to make me wait while he watched the games.” Rilian sounded breathless and exhilarated. Jerric thought that perhaps they had all gone a little crazy.[/quote]

That part I have to highlight, because it shows the depth you bring to your story and your characters.

[quote]Jerric turned and walked back into the city. His feet found a path through the wreckage, and his eyes followed the line of the city wall until he stood where his home had been. Small fires still burned under the rubble. They showed him that there was nothing left but tumbled stones and ash. Savlian had pointed to where the great siege crawler had come over the wall. His family would have been beneath it. He knew they had died here, crushed and burning. Still he had to look for them.[/quote]

[quote]He started searching the dead faces in the street, moving stones and people as he went. His hands turned every broken body until Inian found him at dawn. He took Jerric’s arm and led him away to the encampment like a child.[/quote]

Nothing I can say will adequately convey the power, beauty, and sadness those paragraphs invoke.

The conversations at the Anvil Guild, running the gamut from mundane to heartfelt, show your ear for the truth of human interactions. Even in the midst of a crisis, we are often petty and silly and obtuse.

[quote]Finally he met her eyes, and she saw that he was back behind them. His face wore all of the guilt and sorrow she was feeling. “I should have been here, Sigrid. I slept not half a day’s walk from here while they burned.”

Sigrid steeled herself for what she knew she had to say. This was no time for gentle words, only the truth. She hoped he was ready to face it. “You would have died with them, Jerric. I used my spells to get through the fire, but you would have fought until your last breath and then died along with the rest. Do you see any other Nords out here, or any children? No one escaped who was slowed by little ones. The only difference you would have made is more blood on the ground and your ashes in the wind. Don’t tell yourself you could have saved them.”[/quote]

That renders me speechless with admiration.

[quote]“I’m too old to stand here and try to convince a post that it’s made of wood.” Inian got his arm around Jerric, cuirass, shield, and all. He thumped him on the back. “Akatosh guide you, Jerric. Whether you know it or not.”[/quote]

So well written that I can see and hear Inian clearly.

[quote]Jerric decided there was just no polite way to explain his distraction during their alchemy lessons.[/quote]

Yes, well Sigrid does have a—“distraction”- or two about her.

[quote]He saw Faustino’s face fall, and he realized that they needed to believe in a hero. This isn’t about you, he told himself. He looked around at the other folk who were crowding him.[/quote]

You weave those changes in Jerric so skillfully that they surprise us….

[quote]Puppy dog eyes won’t work on this one, he thought. She probably eats puppies.[/quote]

Only the ones that get in her way or interrupt her “studies” or annoy her with their barking, or….

Love your description of Jerric “reading” Chillrend and the soul gems.

[quote]“Good. You said you’d left the priest behind, but you need to leave the rest of it, too. These are your last days as just Martin. You need to do what it takes so you’ll be ready for what’s coming. When the people look to you, they’ll want to see an emperor.” Jerric watched Martin as they walked. I hope I know what I’m doing, he thought. He was surprised to feel his annoyance receding.[/quote]

Perhaps we are best able to teach the lessons we ourselves need to learn.

[quote]A large rat lay curled on its side, frozen solid. “That’s one powerful frost spell,” Jerric remarked. He dropped the rat in front of Martin. It bounced a little when it hit the ground. “Here’s your kill. Dragonborn.”

Martin viewed his prize. “At least we can eat mine,” he replied. The grim sovereign was gone from his face, and a smile played around his eyes.

Jerric nudged the rat with his boot. “I guess. If we had a few days to thaw it.” He eyed Martin. “You’re not going to ask me to carry it along, are you?”

Martin gave him an arch look. “I’m not going to order you to bring it, no.” Then he laughed. “I suppose we could burn your kill and cook mine on its fire.[/quote]

Here, you bring Martin wonderfully to life- and also show that Jerric is beginning to be more like his old self, as well.

[quote]“Maybe we’ll run afoul of a murderous deer.”

“A rogue sheep would also be welcome.”

They walked in the sun for several minutes. “Martin,” Jerric said.

Martin looked across at him. “Yes, Jerric?”

“They say you have dragon blood in your veins. Do you think it’s true?”

“I think it’s true that the Septims had the dragon blood. I’ll be certain what flows through my veins when I hold the Amulet of Kings.”

“Well, I think I got a look at the dragon back there. If you’re killed before we get to the priory, do you think Jauffre will give me the Amulet of Kings? I’d light the Dragonfires for you.”

Martin looked disconcerted. “Well, Jerric, I don’t think it works that way.”

“Oh,” Jerric replied. “So the next time we’re attacked, how about if you stay behind me?” Jerric made an attempt to look stern.[/quote]

That whole passage had me laughing.

[quote]“When she went back out the door, the sun shone through and lit you up like a torch. Look at this boy, I thought. Unspoiled, and full of promise. See how the sun loves him.” Brother Martin looked at him intently.[/quote]

And then there are moments like that one- that just take my breath away.

[quote]“Is that a potion?” asked Martin. “Jerric Juice?”

“Jerric’s Juice,” Jerric corrected him. “Yes. It restores my magicka. Sign of the Atronach. I’m out of bottles, I should have grabbed some in Skingrad.”

“Oh,” Martin said. He sounded genuinely interested. “Is it supposed to be so… lumpy?”

“Are you an alchemist?”

“Not at all,” said Martin.

“Then yes, it’s supposed to be very lumpy.”[/quote]

And with perfect timing, you bring us back from the seriousness of the situation.

[quote]How is this place a secret? We followed a cobbled road to get here, and you found it in a snowstorm.”

“This fortress was built by Reman Cyrodiil’s Akavari Dragonguard at the founding of the Second Empire. The enchantments that conceal this place were laid down with the very stones. When you leave, you will not be able to find your way back unless you are one of us. Even those few who are born within these walls cannot find their way home unassisted, unless they are inducted into the Blades.”[/quote]

An excellent explanation for a rather major hole in the main quest as it is given.

[quote]Jerric felt that he must be standing near the top of the world. Grey granite ridges poked out of the drifted snow in the hollows far below him. The sun rose through a pink haze without warmth, but he realized that he didn’t need its heat. He wandered along the battlements, looking down the road they had climbed in the snowfall. Dark fir and spruce trees dotted the high mountainside and filled the lower slopes with their groves. Wide, open meadows looked like pale blankets, brightening to coral where the dawn light touched them. Bruma’s dark mass was visible to the south in the distance, but beyond that the land dropped away into a blue mist. His heart lifted in a way that felt like home.[/quote]

“Lyrical” does not begin to do justice to that description- especially the final sentence.

[quote]Jauffre extended the sword balanced across his open palms. The simple gesture spoke louder than pomp or ceremony. Jerric took it from him with the sense of a door closing behind him.[/quote]

I want to quote a lot more than just that part- but it does so much that it will stand.

Chapter 9, Part 2

[quote]Now that he could see Anvil’s walls, he felt reluctant to close himself within them.[/quote]

You have such an economy of expression- a few words carry a world of feeling.

[quote]“He’s getting that center room in the front. I don’t care if you’re expecting the High Chancellor this weekend, that man is a hero. Unless you wanted an inn full of daedra, you should be thanking him. No, he’ll stay until he’s ready to leave. Don’t bother him. Send someone up with water, and a hot meal with some meat. I don’t care what time it is, he’s not waiting for dinner. Someone from the Mages Guild will probably check on him, you should give them your cooperation.”[/quote]

Hooray for Darnand.

[quote]Jerric was shortly headed back up the inn stairs with a towel around his neck, tripping over a borrowed robe. “I’ve never worn a dress before,” he told Darnand, but he couldn’t quite find a smile to go with the words.

“You’re hilarious. I don’t know anyone whose trousers would fit you. Carahil had this robe.”[/quote]

There is a bit of the prankster still left, even with the sadness.

[quote]Her sadness was too much for him, and his own grief closed over his head like a suffocating wave. He held on to her for a long time, shaking so hard he feared they both might break.[/quote]

Powerful and wonderful and sad.

“[quote]I suppose, but I don’t think about it.”

“How can you not think about it?”

“I think with my mind, not my…” he gestured at Jerric, “general belt area.”[/quote]

And the Darnand and Jerric Show is back in Anvil!

The discussion of the why’s and how’s of soul gems was a treat- and provided a lot of insight.

“[quote]Why do you need me to be naked?”

“I don’t! I just want to get accurate measurements.” She lifted the end of the tape measure she wore draped over her shoulders.

“You want to measure it?”[/quote]

Glad I read that passage at home rather than at work- and that I was carefully observing the “no beverages” rule.
There is so much with Abiene that is wise and sad and romantic and wonderful that I cannot isolate just a few instances. They are all good.

[King Coin]

Chapter 3.3
Obviously he's working for the assassins. He just tackled one, furthering their plot to assassinate the emperor!

Lol! That sounds like something that would happen to Jerric. Healing his nose while it’s busted so he's stuck with it!

Soo I guess passing out is sleeping huh? Good cover. Nobody will see through that one lol.

Going to the ruin eh? I hope he likes killing necromancers.

Chapter 4.1
So much for a friendly sit down at the camp. I really think that there should be more friendly camps in Oblivion. You are pretty safe opening fire on anything not in a town. I think it would be much more interesting if there was some doubt whether someone was a friend or a foe.

Jerric quickly finished off the bandits. I’m glad you reminded us that his armor was MIA.

Lol. Lots of helpful books around and which does he read?

He’s decided to take the amulet to Chorrol. Things are about to get very interesting for him.
Oh and I just remembered he’s an atronach (fantastic choice for a birthsign by the way ) so I’m glad he hit the magic well before setting out.

Chapter 4.2
Aleswell! Invisible people? I hope so!

For some reason I’ve always liked the surly Altmer in the fort.

He was not used to making a favorable first impression

Now that’s a proper party! Jerric won’t be in castoffs for long!

I really enjoyed the addition of this little quest to the journey to Chorrol.

Chapter 5.1
Bah! He should have gone to The Oak and Crosier. The rates are very similar if not the same as that dingy little shack. Lol.

Oh boy it’s Maglir. I wasn’t expecting him in The Grey Mare. I’ve always seen him in Skingrad.

And now the old Imperial. How many side quests is Jerric going to get tangled in before dropping off that amulet? Next he’ll be off to Hackdirt!

The visit to the Guild hall was very nice. It’s nice to read some about just the day to day things.

Chapter 5.2
Jerric is from Kvatch?! Oh no. I wonder if he’ll take the time to clear the goblins before hitting the road. Seems unlikely now.

I wish that the priests were this interesting in the game. My characters usually went without the horse.
I am relieved that Jerric didn’t forget about the goblins.

[Grits]

mALX: Thank you so much, mALX! It took a long time for this quest to click for me. This job was supposed to be well-rehearsed and smooth, but it sure didn’t work out that way! Thank you for pointing out the moment with the sleeping Altmer. He’s growing in some ways that he doesn’t like, but he’s still doing what he has to do.

Acadian: Lildereth is dragging Jerric kicking and yelling into staying alive. I changed the wording just a little when Jerric gets hit with the spell to give a better clue, but I didn’t want to really explain it until the end when Jerric figured out what happened. I was hoping that the confusion would reflect what was happening in the scene with an Aha! moment at the end, but not be confusing enough (or last long enough) to be annoying. Letting me know how it read to you is so helpful, I appreciate it very much. Thank you, Acadian!

haute ecole rider: You describe exactly what Jerric experienced: where did this Breton come from? I decided that the spell would trick a person into thinking someone was a stranger and their enemy, not force them to attack a friend against their conscious will. It seemed more like illusion magic that way. Thank you for letting me know how it was to read, I took a chance with it!

SubRosa: Fort Strand turned out to not be Jerric’s best day ever, what with the murdering and near friend killing. I had to answer my own question to Maeva, why don’t you waltz in there and get your own darn mace? You picked up Jerric’s issue with illusion magic back when Abiene tried to teach him. Now this day’s events might make him try using fireballs for light. Thank you for your comments about the fight. Jerric planned to do some straight-up slaying with mighty thews, but it didn’t work out that way!

treydog: Now we’re two chapters later from where you’re reading, and Jerric is still in Anvil. I have not yet learned how to move the plot forward. But I promise I have a plan! Writing the Kvatch sections was far more emotional than I expected. I think that’s why I’ve lingered in Anvil. He has things to do there, but mostly I think we both needed time to repair some damage and let him become Jerric again. I can’t express how much the time and care you’ve taken with my story means to me. Thank you, thank you, from the bottom of my heart!

King Coin: You can imagine it’s going to get pretty grim for Jerric in the next few chapters. He got a little sidetracked in Chorrol, I think he would have gone to Hackdirt if he stayed one more day! For some reason Jerric really got along with Brother Piner. It’s funny, because the game doesn’t give him much to say. Maybe it was the crumpled up letters he was writing to his mom, I loved them in the game but I couldn’t fit them in the story. I took a chance on the Atronach sign, since I’d never played it before. My other characters would be afraid to leave the house if they were born in Sun’s Dusk, but it has helped shape Jerric into what he is. Thank you, KC, I enjoy your comments so much!

Where we are: Jerric, Darnand, and Lildereth found Rockshatter and killed the Fort Strand marauders, despite the gang’s magical recruitment of Jerric during the final fight. Now they take care of a little business.


Chapter 11 Holidays: Part 12

Hauling salvage out of the ruin took most of the day. Darnand put the dead to rest inside the fort while Jerric cleaned the marauders’ armor. Lildereth ran back to the stable and returned with Flash and two rented pack mules. Darnand’s horse was not trained to a pack saddle.

The three of them walked down the road toward Anvil under a high overcast sky. Jerric swung Rockshatter idly in his hand. In his mind he could see a dozen skeletons lurching toward them with their boney grins. He imagined how the mace would feel as he bashed his way through them. Its shock noise was all too familiar, but he wondered if it would cause more recoil. A glance over the empty hillside told him his scenario was unlikely to occur. He considered summoning Slim so he could try out the mace.

The marauders’ dog trotted along with them, occasionally dashing off into the meadows but always returning to their side. Jerric had a number of troubles on his mind. He started with the easy one. “What are we going to do with the dog?” He raised his voice so that Darnand could hear him at the back of their procession.

“I do not think Carahil will approve of a massive hound in her hall,” Darnand remarked. “She has already made an exception to her standards by allowing Sparky to reside there. Not to mention the occasional Nord.”

“I’ll check with the Anvil Guard to see if anyone’s missing her,” Jerric said. “The Fighters Guild already has a dog. I think she’d like to live at the beach for awhile. Lildereth?”

“What’s her name?” Lildereth asked him.

“Ulfe,” Jerric answered immediately.

“She has fleas and ticks,” Lildereth said. “What are you going to do about that?”

Jerric laughed. “You are talking to a Master Alchemist and the former host of many a pestilence. None currently, of course. Bergamot, lavender, and orange oil for Ulfe. I’ve learned a mild shock spell on oneself kills even the most persistent crotch crabs, but I’d never do that to a dog.”

Ulfe trotted up to Jerric and kept pace beside him, her tail wagging gently as she walked. Her tongue lolled out in what appeared to be an excess of happiness.

“Ulfe seems to agree,” Lildereth said. “She’s no guard dog, Jerric.”

“I know. She’s a Colovian sight hound, and a good companion, I’d wager.” He reached out and scratched the side of Ulfe’s neck. She tossed her head up and rubbed her jaw against him affectionately. He guessed she didn’t mind the blood. “Anyway, I’d like to take her to Kvatch. I’m not a good long-term prospect for any female.”

Darnand, Lildereth, and Ulfe seemed to agree. Flash did not seem interested in Ulfe, and the dog knew her way around the pack animals. Jerric moved on to his next concern.

“They say when you murder someone, the Dark Brotherhood comes to you in your sleep,” he remarked.

“I have also heard this rumor,” Darnand called up to him. “I am told that is how they recruit new members. Whom did you murder, Jerric?”

“That Altmer in the bedroll. She never knew I killed her.”

“I doubt she was an innocent,” Lildereth told him. “If you dream of assassins, you’ll know she was.”

Jerric decided he wouldn’t notice one more bad dream. He turned back to Darnand. “You went after Bjalfi like a veteran brawler. Not bad for a man who can barely cut his own meat. What kind of mage jumps a Nord in steel plate armed with an enchanted mace?”

Darnand did not look amused. “One who has reached his limit.”

“Yeah,” said Jerric. “Sorry about that.”

“Do not apologize, you are not responsible for what you did under that spell.”

“All right. Still… When you said ‘mother-humping battlemages’…”

Darnand shot him a look. “I might have also meant you.”

Jerric placed a hand over his heart, walking backward. “That hurts, Darnand.”

“As does Nordic Frost. Let us say that we are even.”

Jerric grinned at him. “Deal.”

“I would ride a minotaur right now, if I could figure out how to mount it,” Lildereth announced.

Jerric agreed with the spirit of her remark, if not the specifics. “I think I’ve seen enough command spells for today.” He glanced back to check Darnand’s temper. “Try the Breton,” Jerric offered. “He looks like he could use some relief.”

“Watching death pass by does make one feel more alive,” Darnand admitted. “I suppose that is why there is usually a brothel right behind the Fighters Guild.”

“I expect you’d like me to take you both on,” Lildereth said. “Isn’t that what you men are always talking about?”

“By the Nine!” Darnand exclaimed, sounding a little out of breath.

Jerric looked back at Lildereth, curious. His finely honed instincts told him she was not really interested. “You’re pretty confident, tree rat.”

“You’re pretty proud of yourself, mouth breather,” she shot back. “I hate to be disappointed. You think they’ve got a warhammer, and they pull out a spoon.” She shook her head.

Jerric decided to call her bluff and see what point she was trying to make. “Come up here and see for yourself. Fair warning, it’s pretty humid down there.”

Lildereth laughed and kept walking.

“For someone without intentions, you’re pretty reckless with your mouth,” Jerric observed.

Lildereth gave him a green glance. “Now we all know where we stand.”

Fair enough, thought Jerric. I guess sooner or later a lot of men would try to give her a poke. “Where do you think we should sell our haul?” he asked, moving on.

“Morvayn’s or Lelles,’ I’ve traded at both places,” said Lildereth.

“One of us should do the haggling,” Darnand told Lildereth. “We’ll end up paying the merchant if we let Jerric do it.”

Lildereth nodded. “If we can catch Enilroth while Varel is out, I think I can get the best deal from him on the weapons and armor. Lelles will take the other items.”

“We need to eat, and we’re in no shape for the mages guild,” Jerric said. “Let’s drop off the heavy goods with Morvayn, then head over to the Flowing Bowl. Maenlorn always has a hunk of meat on the fire. We can sort through the small salvage up on that rooftop you showed us, Lildereth. We’ll put aside what we want to keep, and you two sell the rest.”

Lildereth nodded. “An expedient plan, Jerric,” said Darnand.

They followed their course of action, lightening their burdens with every stop. Jerric and Ulfe got some hard looks from the guards, but they passed through the city without trouble. Jerric used a belt as a temporary leash for Ulfe, as Countess Umbranox had a strict leash ordinance within city walls. Ulfe cooperated with what Jerric began to believe was an extraordinarily forgiving nature. Their appearance did not get them much attention Harborside as they made their way into The Flowing Bowl.

“Greetings!” called Maenlorn from behind the bar. “Welcome to The Flowing Bowl. Do you know which twin I am?” His face twinkled with enjoyment.

Jerric stared at him. “Again? Maenlorn, we were in here the other day. Last summer you called the Guard on me. You don’t even look like Caenlorn.”

Maenlorn squinted up at him. “Apologies, Jerric. You Nords all look alike.” Lildereth and Darnand moved around beside Jerric. Ulfe rested her chin on the bar, gazing placidly at the publican. “Oh, greetings, Lildereth. I didn’t see you there.” Maenlorn nodded to Darnand and Ulfe.

“You are the twin in brown,” Darnand informed him.

“We want a pitcher of ale, a bucket of water, and a piece of whatever poor creature you’re burning,” said Jerric. He glanced at the other two for confirmation. “Times four on the meal.”

“Shoulder of mutton stuffed with garlic and onion, roasted all afternoon in a very slow fire. A happy sheep who lived peacefully in our golden meadows. In her day she clothed us well and gave us many lambs to feast upon. Her temper was sweet, her fleece was springy, and her meat will nourish you. But not yet, she still needs a little more time on the fire.”

There was a silence as the companions considered his words. “All right then,” said Jerric. “Start a tab, if you please. We’ll be up on your Bosmer balcony as long as the rain holds off.”

Maenlorn filled a pitcher from the ale barrel. “Take some bread while you’re waiting for Flossy.”

Jerric grabbed the pitcher and three mugs in his hand, tossing the bread to Lildereth. Darnand shouldered his back and picked up the water bucket. Lildereth led their parade up the stairs.

Ulfe

This post has been edited by Grits: Jul 21 2011, 09:22 PM

[SubRosa]

“She has already made an exception to her standards by allowing Sparky to reside there. Not to mention the occasional Nord.”
Indeed, the latter shed enough as it is!

I’ve learned a mild shock spell on oneself kills even the most persistent crotch crabs
Ewwww!

A nice homage to the game with the rumor about the Dark Brotherhood (apparently only men are allowed). Also some cute banter between the trio. I guess since they are a team now, they need a name. Maybe the Terrible Trio? The Anvil Three?

And Ulfe is of course terribly adorable.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Jul 21 2011, 09:29 PM

[haute ecole rider]

Colovian Sighthound indeed! Loved the pic of Ulfe. But doesn't Jerric know that if you name 'em, they're yours for life?

Actually these dogs are quite fierce guardians of their families (i.e. the classic story of the Irish Wolfhound who defended the baby from a wolf that broke in, only to be killed for being covered in the wolf's blood when the father arrived home and mistakenly thought the dog had killed the babe). So that makes Ulfe's behavior even more striking.

Loved the banter between the three. Lildereth is now considered one of the 'boys' if they are comfortable enough to descend into trash talk with her. She certainly is comfortable in her own skin! Liking this woman (wo-elf?) more and more!

[Acadian]

A great transition from dungeon to town, complete with fabulously natural and entertaining banter among the three amigos. Ulfe does indeed look exactly how I would picture a 'Colovian sight hound'.

“They say when you murder someone, the Dark Brotherhood comes to you in your sleep,” he remarked.'
This is so rich for a couple reasons. Firstly, it instantly reminds of that Jerric is not at all done thinking about killing that sleeping Altmer. Secondly, it is one of those precious times when, without the slightest bit of force, a line from the game slips perfectly into place. Well done!

Goodness. I hope Lildereth doesn't let a minotaur near her sock drawer. Oh, and perhaps Ulfe should guards hers from Jerric? Well, you know, since Flossie is no longer available. . . .

“You’re pretty confident, tree rat.”
Oh my. I see that SubRosa and I shall have to add this to our growing list of names for our bark biting wood nymphs elves.

'Ulfe rested her chin on the bar, gazing placidly at the publican. “Oh, greetings, Lildereth. I didn’t see you there.” Maenlorn nodded to Darnand and Ulfe.'
I hope so very much I'm not mistaken here. Maenlorn just called Lildereth a dog, and the image had me rolling!

[King Coin]

Chapter 6.1
Heh, it sounds like you’ve received some whacky directions before. Jerric’s thoughts about the directions to the Odiil farm were pretty funny.

Good thing that Jerric warned them of his summons. I always imagined a summon causing an uproar even though the NPCs never batted an eye at a skeleton popping out of nowhere.

Chillrend was one of the coolest blades in the game. It’s just too back that it wasn’t a bit more useful (in game). I’m sure Jerric will put it to good use.

You thinking about doing some plowing, Jerric?

Chapter 6.2
Lol Jerric got to go fishing. That’s one boring quest that I always do. The ring is just too valuable to not get.

Nerussa gets a lot of attention. She’s going to have Jerric tromping around old forts to get some wine.

There was something that he needed, but he hesitated to ask. He looked across the counter at Nerussa.

"I could really use a haircut," he said.

Not what I was expecting him to say at all!

Chapter 6.3
So many parties spring up when a big Nord wanders into town

A puppet show? Hilarious! Too bad Jerric didn’t stay!

Chapter 6.4
I remember the passage about the apple and the horse from some topic on the BethSoft forum.

Nice to know Druja doesn’t think much about anyone. Funny sarcasm though. “Good for you.”

Huh, everyone’s so cheerful. Except Vigge. Keep an eye on him.

Chapter 6.4
Ah yes it’s Falanu, as creepy as ever.

I almost forgot that Sinderion was an Altmer, being pleasant and all.

Haha! Maglir! Someone for Jerric to punch in the face!

Servilla the Serpent.

Oh my…

Chapter 6.6
A highwayman! This one knew what he was doing too for the most part. Why are highwaymen always khajiit? That always irked me about Oblivion.

Jerric the Doll? Lol!

Chapter 7.1
I was going to quit at the end of chapter 6, but I want to read some more!

Great description of the city and what Jerric was feeling. The Deadlands are a terrifying place and Jerric reacted as you would expect. I’m glad he pulled himself together quickly. He better get used to going to hell and back though.

I always sent the guard out of the gate too. I always do my best to keep the guards alive.

[mALX]

Remind me not to have a mouth full of anything when Jerric begins discussing his crotch crickets ... urgh!

I loved the discussion about the Dark Brotherhood - Jerric is obviously worried about hs actions earlier !! Awesome interjection of the game wording there !! Ulfe is beautiful !!! Awesome Chapter !!

[Grits]

SubRosa: I’m sure a lot of Nords could stand a spell treatment from Aela! After the TMI about his history of external parasites, I expect Jerric will find he has a little more elbow room wherever he goes.

haute ecole rider: Thank you for the story about the Irish Wolfhound. I have the same fierce loyalty in mind for the Colovian dogs that resemble them, as well as their intelligence and independence. I wanted to give the sense that Ulfe was not always the marauders’ dog, they likely stole her like they stole everything else. Chained to the column outside, she didn’t really have a family any more. If she had been a local dog, she probably would have run home. I’m glad you like Lildereth. When she gets talking, she does have quite a mouth.

Acadian: Well, Ulfe is a leggy blonde. Maenlorn’s slip is a product of clumsy editing, but now it’s unintentionally hilarious! Especially with the squinting. Oh my goodness!! I’m leaving it as it is, I was rolling too when I read it again. And it seems that Jerric finally took Flossy to dinner.

King Coin: The Grits trifecta of country directions is a reference to an animal, a tree, and a landmark that no longer exists. Bonus for some kind of warning. Here’s how I used to tell people to get to my house when I lived out near nowhere: Turn right at the place where the Junk Man used to live. Go past the cedar trees, and watch out for the chickens. Turn right again at the road with no sign. Go past the yard with the collies. When you see the red mailbox, you’re there. You kept reading after you thought you would stop, that makes me so happy.

mALX: Former crotch crickets, Jerric hastens to point out! You’re right, that Altmer is going to be hard for him to let go of.

Where we are: The Fort Strand business is concluded, and Jerric has been awarded temporary custody of the dog. We find our friends a few days later.



Chapter 11 Holidays: Part 13

Jerric slammed through the basement door and stalked into the mages guild dining hall. Darnand, Abiene, and Thaurron sat around one of the tables, a pitcher and goblets between them. Dammit, we missed lunch, Jerric thought.

The mages stared silently at him, their faces three versions of surprise. Sparky crouched frozen at Thaurron’s elbow.

Darnand cleared his throat. “How goes the poison training?” he asked.

Lildereth slipped into the room behind Jerric. “I’d sooner teach a boar to sew,” she spat.

Jerric didn’t look at her. “Nothing but rules, this one,” he told the table. “‘Don’t cut yourself! Don’t pull the cork with your teeth! Don’t spill the poison! Don’t touch your face! Quit wiping your fingers on your shirt!’” He realized that the crunching sound was coming from his knuckles.

Darnand spoke after a moment. “Did you do all of those things?”

“Of course not!” Jerric kicked a bench, sending Sparky squeaking into the air. “I never cut myself.”

“You used as many cure potions as you did vials of poison!” Lildereth flared.

“I told you not to give them to me! It would have worn off.”

“You made the poison too strong, you kept turning blue! I’m not going to watch you suffocate by your own hand, even if you deserve it!”

“You were using real poison?” gasped Abiene.

“Poisons of paralysis,” Jerric explained. “She said it would make me pay attention.”

“It didn’t,” Lildereth snapped.

“You never quit talking,” Jerric shot back at her. “How am I supposed to do it and pay attention?”

“Excuse me for assuming your mind is as quick as your temper!”

“I don’t have a temper!” Jerric thundered. Glass chimed on the shelves behind him.

Green fog swirled around Lildereth’s clawed fingers, matching the venom in her slanted eyes.

“My friends,” Thaurron began.

Abiene was already on her feet, sliding between them. Jerric eyed her, suspecting she might hit him with a calming spell. She arrested her hand before it reached his arm, soft eyes on his face. “Business takes me away from the guild hall this afternoon, but I will return in time for our Saturalia Eve festivities.” Her voice was balm on his frayed nerves. As she looked back and forth between Jerric and Lildereth, Jerric’s mind began to ease despite himself. “Will you join your guild mates at the Countess’ ball this evening?”

Lildereth composed her face. “I have not received an invitation.”

“None is needed,” Abiene assured her. “The Countess extends her invitation to all guild members who are resident at the hall. We have Carahil’s position in Anvil to thank for that courtesy.”

“I don’t know…” Lildereth began.

“Oh, please join us!” Abiene urged her warmly. “I have never attended either, I’ve always spent Saturalia with my family in Leyawiin.” Abiene reached out and drew a lock of Lildereth’s hair through her fingers. “We could help each other get ready, say at five or six bells of the afternoon?”

Jerric watched Lildereth relax before his eyes. “I would like that very much, Abiene,” she said quietly. “Thank you.”

“I’ll be grateful for the companionship,” Abiene told her. “Today I find myself missing my sister’s company.” Abiene’s eyes went to Jerric.

“Oh,” he said. “Uh… I’m not going to the castle party. Rhano’s folks want me to join them tonight.” Abiene’s face still held a question. “I’m going back to the beach for awhile. Run, swim, restore my temper.” He said the last with a grimace aimed at Lildereth.

“Thank the Nine, or perhaps we should thank the influence of Bretons,” said Lildereth.

Abiene blushed, and Jerric realized that she had calmed both of them. Only Lildereth had noticed.

“Well, I’ll save my Saturalia wishes for tomorrow,” Jerric said. “I expect I’ll head this way in the morning, or in the afternoon if we go a little too deep in the ale tonight.”

“Until tomorrow, Jerric.” Her back to the others, Abiene’s smile told him something altogether different.

Jerric went for his run under a heavy sky. Feeling ridiculous, he completed his sidestepping agility drills before he swam. Cold rain fell in sheets as he made his way up to his hut. He stood for a moment beside the lowest step, letting the cascade from the roof wash over him. I’ll give Abiene her gift today, he decided. Tomorrow we might not get any privacy.

Ulfe lay stretched out under the table on her new blankets, lending the scent of freshly washed dog to the hut. She raised her head and yawned her greeting. Jerric had discovered that while the hound seemed tireless outdoors, under a roof she became almost immobile.

Jerric still stood dripping onto the hearth when Abiene burst through the door. He took her heavy cloak while she gasped and chattered about the rain. She dried her face and hands by the fire while he opened the wine.

“I have something for you,” Jerric told her, trading her cloth for a mug of Tamika’s.

“So I see,” she smiled, running her eyes over him.

“Really, I have something for you. A Saturalia present.” He handed her the velvet bag and stepped back to watch, giving himself a few swipes with the towel.

Abiene drew in a sharp breath when the earrings tumbled into her palm. “Oh Jerric, they’re beautiful! Brown topaz, and so dark!”

She put them on and turned to show him, holding back her hair. The gems glittered in the firelight, outshone by her delighted smile.

“I wish I had a mirror so you could see,” he said. “They’re the perfect color, like your eyes.” He felt his face flush. “I mean, I don’t know about jewelry, but...”

“Oh thank you!” She reached up to kiss him, her body light against his. In a heartbeat he felt her fingers tighten on his shoulders as his own tangled into her hair. “Wait, wait!” She drew back and pushed him so he would sit on the bed. “I brought some shoes I want to show you.” She fiddled with her bag and held them so he could see.

“Shoes?” Jerric discovered he was more than willing to humor her. “Oh, they’re nice I guess. They’re brown, too, see I know you wear a lot of that color. How are you going to walk in those heels?” Abiene placed them on the floor. In one smooth motion her dress went over her head and across the back of the chair. “Whoa, that’s a nice surprise. I guess you can’t get sand in your undergarments if you don’t wear any.”

Something delightful happened to her posture when she stepped into the shoes. Hand on her hip, Abiene smiled at him over her shoulder. Jerric found that he had lost the power of speech.

“What do you think of my shoes?” she asked pertly.

Jerric cleared his throat. “I don’t know, I wasn’t paying attention. Better twirl around again. Slow.”

She did, this time lifting her curls off her neck. When he tried to speak it came out as a growl. “Oops,” Abiene laughed, “I think the strap is twisted. I’ll just fix it.”

Jerric appreciated his small house, because it took less than a step to lift her to the bed. “Oh, I’ll keep them on, shall I?” she laughed again. Then she seemed too breathless for conversation.

The afternoon passed in the most pleasant way Jerric could imagine. Eventually he woke alone. The fire had died down to embers, and he could hear that the rain had stopped. The pillow still held Abiene’s scent when he pressed it to his face. She would leave for Chorrol before New Life Festival, she had told him. In a way it will be easier, he thought. I could lose myself again, this time in the comfort of a woman.

Ulfe slipped out the door behind him as he left for Rhano’s parents’ house. She galloped off down the beach, intent on her own business. Jerric checked the cloth he had tied over the door latch. Ulfe would be able to let herself in when she returned.

Jerric took the Dock Gate into Anvil’s Westgate district. Within minutes he found himself standing on the familiar porch, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He felt like a child for a moment, running out the back door and around to the front, playing Troll in the Cave. He blinked, and he was a disgraced teenager seeking refuge once again.

I should have come before, he thought, tension making his hands shake. It seemed strange to knock. Before he could bolt, the door opened, revealing a trim Redguard woman somewhere past her middle age. She stood on the step looking down at him, and her round face crumpled into sadness. The dark place inside him yawned open, his grief rising up to meet hers. Now she all but disappeared into his arms, but Jerric remembered how it felt to be enfolded in her soft embrace.

“Oh, my dear boy,” Shasana said.

“Mother,” Jerric whispered.

She drew him into the entry hall, holding him at her arms’ length to look at him. Her face told him how he must have changed. “Still forgetting your cloak and hood, I see.” Her chin trembled despite her gentle teasing.

“I can run between the raindrops if it starts again.” How old was I when I first told her that, Jerric wondered, glad he had remembered to brush the sand from his boots. He handed her the wine.

“Rhano is in the dining hall, Jerric. You may take your parcels in with you.” She smiled through her tears as she smoothed his doublet. “I cannot express what it will mean to have you both at our table again.”

Jerric felt shadows crowding the hall. He and his nieces and nephews had filled this house with chaos when they visited. He remembered his Ma’s dismay at their noise, and Shasana saying that she had never been happier. She only smiled at their constant laughter and shouting. Nord music, Shasana called it.

Jerric’s honorary mother bustled off to finish her preparations in the kitchen. The sound of a fire greeting new wood drew him into the dining hall. Rhano straightened at the hearth, brushing his hands together. Jerric’s eyes wandered over the elegant table, reluctant to meet Rhano’s. Candlelight glimmered on polished silver and glazed porcelain. Crystal goblets would hold their water and Shasana’s wine. Gleaming tankards stood ready for the men’s ale. The tight feeling grew in his chest when he recognized the cloth on the table. Damask from Kvatch. Jerric set down the gifts he had brought before he finally looked at Rhano.

His friend’s face could have been made of stone. He lost them all too, Jerric thought. It’s worse when we’re here. He wants to run from me as much as I want to get away. But this is something we can do for Ongve and Shasana.

Rhano stepped over and offered his arm. Jerric took it without speaking.

“Let’s get through dinner, then I have some of your Nordic rotgut,” Rhano said.

“Your rotgut,” Jerric told him. “You have more of a head for whiskey than I do.”

“You’re always the one crying in the morning,” Rhano agreed. He stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest. “I hear you’ve been seen with a long-haired blonde around town.”

“Yeah. Ulfe. Found her up at Fort Strand. She’s back at the beach, I fixed the door so she can open it. She’s not so good about closing it, though.”

“She should be careful,” Rhano remarked. “You could give her fleas. Or worse.”

“Puppies?”

Rhano’s laugh turned into a cough. Jerric turned to find Ongve behind him. “Jerric.”

“Thank you for having me here, sir.”

Ongve passed the ale pitcher to Rhano and pulled Jerric into an awkward embrace. “You’ll always have a home with us, lad,” Ongve said quietly. Dammit, thought Jerric, blinking to clear his eyes again.

Shasana’s voice floated in from the kitchen, calling for her boys’ helping hands. This is what we are now, Jerric thought. I can’t let them know how soon this too will end. He followed Rhano down the corridor to offer assistance.

This post has been edited by Grits: Jul 23 2011, 02:36 PM

[haute ecole rider]

What a bittersweet reunion!

Loved the sparring between Jerric and Lildereth in the beginning! I know exactly how she feels! I've had so-called assistants just like that not that long ago.

“I don’t have a temper!” Jerric thundered. Glass chimed on the shelves behind him.

I just about fell out of my chair laughing! As developed as your characters are, it probably wasn't difficult writing this scene - just let 'em have at it. The hardest part for you probably was typing fast enough to keep up with them!

And Ulfe didn't mind Abiene's - errh - visit with Jerric? Heh, she probably rolled her eyes and sighed loudly, not that they'd hear!

The reunion at the family's home was very sad, but very loving at the same time. All the memories come crowding back, and it's difficult to enjoy the moment when folks are burdened by survivor's guilt. I hope that Rhano and Jerric are able to move past the sadness and enjoy the moment, and that Rhano's parents are able to do the same.

[mALX]

Jerric isn't the only one blinking to clear his eyes again. As much as I loved the temper flare-up between Jerric and Lildereth at the start of the chapter, and all the other wonderful diverse scenes this chapter is full of - all paled into the mist at the end, leaving only the reunion with Shasana and Ongve. Awesome Write !!!

[Acadian]

Fabulous! A great scene among the mages, complete with fireworks and delightfully sharp banter. Then a cold rain on a warm beach cottage and finally a touching reunion.

'Green fog swirled around Lildereth’s clawed fingers, matching the venom in her slanted eyes.'
I instantly knew what this was. And why. I wonder why I can identify with Lildereth so easily? And oh my, what a wonderful description!

“None is needed,” Abiene assured her. “The Countess extends her invitation to all guild members who are resident at the hall. We have Carahil’s position in Anvil to thank for that courtesy.”
Wonderful, and how very natural it seems that Carahil would hold a position of note when it came to matters involving the castle. She's a fine magister.

'The sound of a fire greeting new wood drew him into the dining hall. Rhano straightened at the hearth, brushing his hands together. Jerric’s eyes wandered over the elegant table, reluctant to meet Rhano’s. Candlelight glimmered on polished silver and glazed porcelain. Crystal goblets would hold their water and Shasana’s wine. Gleaming tankards stood ready for the men’s ale. The tight feeling grew in his chest when he recognized the cloth on the table. Damask from Kvatch.'
How beautifully you retain the emotion of the moment while delicately painting the surroundings - what a wonderful touch you have with description! If you are anything like me, this seemingly simple paragraph required countless edits to float so effortlessly from the page.

[D.Foxy]

Jerric reminds me of many a 'gentle giant' I have known in real life, with just a touch of depth and off-beat subtlety to leaven the 'fight, fuk and fart' stereotype of male behaviour. However...if he is vulnerable to command spells (and BTW, your description of one was masterly!) wouldn't that put a great hole in the trust of his companions? Time to brew up a resist illusion magic potion methinks...

[King Coin]

Chapter 7.2
Great description of the column of flame. I never imagined it shaking the floor though!

Holy ****! I’m so glad that Jerric killed that daedra. I can’t imagine worse than being captured by one of those.

No no no! That is NOT running water!

I always hated leaving the man in the cage to die at the hands of the daedra. I even tried to kill him once and I couldn’t even do that.

Chapter 7.3
Days? Was he really in there that long, or does time travel differently in Oblivion?

I never thought of it, but these men know Jerric. They’ve always been strangers to my characters. I never thought what it would be like to actually know them.

Chapter 7.4
For a second I thought that this chapter opened as Kvatch was being attack from the perspective of a mage in the guild hall there. It’s actually Anvil right?

The part with the blessing was nicely worked in.

This was a very strong chapter in my opinion. The reactions of the people to Kvatch’s fate was well done.

I’m afraid for Jerric though. It always seemed like he was so care free and now to see him like this and knowing that it will not turn out well is just sad.

Chapter 7.5
I forgot about the legion that joins from patrol! They always died with me. Suicidal idiots. I wonder how they fare here.

Lol those crazy atronachsigns, running into harmful spells!

You do so well describing the skirmishes. The soldiers seem to be making progress with minimal casualties.

[SubRosa]

“Poisons of paralysis,” Jerric explained. “She said it would make me pay attention.”

“It didn’t,” Lildereth snapped.
The whole exchange about poison training was priceless. Seriously though, it is good to see another example of the limitations you are placing on your protagonist. There is a tendency in not only fan fiction, but also professional fiction, to make the central character a master of everything. Having a character who is not all-around perfect is refreshing to see.

Also nice save by Abiene, calming the explosive situation. I thought the Fighters Guild would be the place to expect fights at the lunch table, not the Mages Guild! I see she is not going to Leyawiin for Saturalia this year. Hmmm, that is going to send a message to her parents, especially her mother I think.

“I’m going back to the beach for awhile. Run, swim, restore my temper.”
And get naked and boff? Since Abiene already told everyone that she was going to be busy in the afternoon... I wonder how long they are going to keep trying to keep up the pretense of not being a couple?

Finally, the Saturalia feast with Rhano and the rest of Jerric's foster family was very touching.

[Grits]

haute ecole rider: Luckily Ulfe stayed under the table, or she might have found herself standing in the rain with a Breton-sized footprint on her rear. You’re so right, by the time Jerric and Lildereth got to their shouting/seething match, they knew exactly what they were going to say. Now they’re comfortable enough with each other to let it fly! You describe the reunion just as I hoped, thank you haute!

mALX: You made me smile! Thank you, mALX. As I’m sure you know, the last part was pretty important to me. Now I’m working on a very short Jerric and Rhano story, I know it’s Shasana’s doing!

Acadian: I think Carahil would be an interesting character to explore. Her history with the Benirus situation has her in Anvil for a long time, and folks seem to respect her. Yet her friendship with the castle mage/necromancer Baeralorn provides a nice contradiction. You’re so right about the editing. That paragraph even got one more tweak as I was posting, and I try not to do that! Thank you for your kind and encouraging words, Acadian.

D. Foxy: You’re right, Darnand’s trust would be especially shaken, as would Jerric’s trust in himself. There was a lot that went unspoken while they sat there recovering from the fight. All of them would have been aware of the possibility, though. It’s the reason Jerric can’t bring himself to use illusion magic. I’m sure Darnand’s wheels are turning to come up with a solution, now that he’s actually experienced Jerric yanking him by the throat. Priorities. Thank you Foxy, I’m so glad you’re back!

King Coin: Time passes much slower in the Deadlands in this story. Jerric has to tell time there by how long it takes him to run out of water. Yes, Chapter 7.4 starts with the people in Anvil learning about Kvatch, then jumps to Jerric in the Kvatch chapel. It’s another time difference thing, they had days for news of the attack to travel while Jerric was in the Gate for less time. Since I wrote that, I’ve learned to avoid changing POV in the middle of a post. I thought you’d enjoy that Atronach remark! Your concern for Jerric warms my heart. You’re right, it’s not going to be a smooth road for him. Thank you, King Coin!

SubRosa: Traven might have to tighten the standards again, after the near throw down at the Anvil MG. You’re right about Abiene’s staying in Anvil for Saturalia. That should be a huge step in her allowing herself to break away from her family’s expectations and stop living under their fears. Then she could put on her big girl panties and deal with everyone knowing her business. Or she could move to another city and just not deal with it. She could use some of Aela’s courage! And possibly some advice on how to cope with stress without her daily Nord ride. Thank you, SubRosa. It’s good to know if I’m finding a balance for Jerric.

Where we are: It’s the Eve of Saturalia. Jerric has made his way to Ongve and Shasana’s for the evening. Now we go back a little earlier that same afternoon to pick up with Abiene. We’ll spend the next two episodes in her company. Estrogen overload warning.


Chapter 11 Holidays: Part 14

Abiene lay on her side in Jerric’s bed, watching him breathe life back into the fire. Shadows rolled along his back and side. Candlelight played over his scars. Magnificent, she thought. How did this skinny Breton get into that man’s bed?

She hugged her knees, cradling his seed inside her. It was folly, her precautions had already been taken. No child would spring from their loving. Still, part of her held a voiceless wish.

Winter rain drummed against the roof of his hut, loud with no ceiling above them. The room was dark enough to make Abiene think it was already night, but Jerric’s stomach would have complained if the afternoon had completely passed. She hoped that the sound of rain on boards and a crackling fire would always bring her back to this feeling.

I need to go soon, she thought. Lildereth is expecting me, and I’ll need to bathe before we dress for the ball. I shouldn’t let him build the fire too high, he’s only doing it for me. She tried to still her mind, and stay just in the moment.

Jerric turned his head to look at her. The new shadow in his eyes was her doing, she knew it. The message had come from Chorrol, and she would leave before New Life Festival. She had told him in the sweaty glow after their energy was spent, hoping that closeness would ease the sting. Now she felt their separation looming over them. Then he smiled, and her stomach trembled.

“Think it’s going to rain?” he asked, teasing. When he rose, his sudden grace stopped her breath. She supposed that’s why he kept his furniture pushed against the walls. At the guild hall he often moved like a horse surprised to find itself at a tea party.

He climbed over her and put his back to the wall, drawing her against him. Heat and strength enveloped her. Bittersweet, she thought. Now I know what that means.

“Are you going to sleep?” she asked. His breathing was already slow and heavy.

“Mmm hmm. I’ll wake up before it’s time to go to Rhano’s. Can you stay awhile?” He draped a leg over hers, hot and crushing.

“Until you drift off. I have to get back soon.”

“Right,” Jerric rumbled softly against her neck. “The ball.”

That must be what it’s like to hear a lion purr, thought Abiene. “I’m going to wear my new earrings.”

Jerric made an unintelligible mutter.

“The shoes?” Abiene guessed. “No, my love. I need to be able to dance in them, and it’s raining.”

Jerric’s snore told her the conversation was over. She waited for his muscles to stop twitching, when he would slump easily to his back without waking. After she extracted herself from the bed, it took some time for feeling to return to her toes.

Ulfe still lounged mostly under the table. She gazed up with her shaggy brows at a supplicating angle. Abiene knelt to give her a long scratch and whispered farewell. Moments later she was out in the rain, her spells speeding her steps and concealing her passage.

At the guild hall, Carahil stood behind her counter in the entry. Abiene saw her check the hourglass as she hung up her cloak. “Good afternoon, Abiene.” Her tone was as neutral as her expression.

“Good afternoon, Carahil.” The Altmer wore a black velvet gown with a heavily embroidered panel running down the bodice. Her belt was made of jewel encrusted gold medallions. Black gems set in an ornate necklace sparkled against her golden skin. Abiene concluded that Carahil was ready for the ball.

“Lildereth has been looking for you.” Now her magister’s smile told Abiene that they spoke as friends. “We will depart in two hours. It has been a slow afternoon here. Most of us have already made our preparations for the evening.”

“You look lovely,” Abiene said. “Is that a new gown?”

“This gown is older than you are, my dear. However…” Carahil stepped to the side of her counter and raised the hem.

“New gold slippers! They’re perfect! Where did you get them? Not from Tulia. Oh, Carahil, they’ll be ruined in the rain!”

Carahil’s smile broadened. “I know a shoemaker in Cheydinhal. I nearly despaired that these would arrive in time for the ball.” She held out a slender wrist adorned with a simple gold bracelet. “I will tell you a secret. The rain does not bother me while I wear this.”

No wonder her hair stays smooth when mine puffs up like a startled cat, thought Abiene. “That’s a useful enchantment. Is there a spell that keeps off the rain?”

“I do not know one, but surely one exists. Perhaps one of our own ambitious mages might make one, if he can tear himself away from his studies long enough to gain access to the Praxographical Center.”

“Darnand is joining us tonight, isn’t he?”

“You might remind him of his promise before you join Lildereth,” Carahil suggested. “He may have already forgotten today’s date.”

Abiene gave in to the excitement of getting ready for a party. Her skipping feet carried her quickly through her preparations until she met Lildereth in the bathing chamber. The Bosmer perched on the edge of the center tub in a dressing robe, trailing her fingertips through the water. The far tub was also filled. “I hung my gown in your chamber,” Lildereth told her.

“I saw!” replied Abiene. “That one suits you so well. It brings out the color of your eyes.”

Lildereth smiled with a twist of her lips. “I’m glad, since that one is the only one. You’ll see it again tomorrow, unless tonight brings some dress-rending mishap.”

Abiene approached the tub, raising her hands. “I would wager on your gown’s safety. The most dangerous event of the evening is about to occur. I shall attempt to heat my bathwater without burning down the building.” She took a deep breath, cautiously preparing to draw fire into her hands.

“Wait!” said Lildereth. “This one is for you, Abiene. I prefer mine cooler.” The wood elf smiled up at her.

Abiene stared at the steam rising from the center tub. Lildereth has been heating it this whole time, she realized. “But it doesn’t smell like fire in here at all!”

“For me it’s a matter of exchanging cold for heat in the water,” Lildereth explained. “Fire has nothing to do with it.”

“Oh, I’d love to learn that! Thank you!” Abiene moved to the shelves, rummaging for her bath supplies.

When she drizzled her scented oil into the water, Lildereth raised one hand slightly. The water began to gently circle in the tub.

“Valenwood must be a wondrous place,” breathed Abiene.

“Indeed,” Lildereth told her. She seemed to be on the edge of saying more, but stopped herself.

Abiene bustled around, gathering their towels and moving the screens for privacy. “I know you’re not shy, but Marc will be in here any moment. He always smirks at me like he thinks he knows something.”

“You should give him a good look,” Lildereth suggested. “Then he might leave you alone.”

Abiene hoped that Lildereth hadn’t meant that the way it sounded. She glanced at the wood elf as she hung up her dressing gown. She has the strength I admire and the curves I envy, thought Abiene. Is she reminding me that she’s prettier? Yet Lildereth’s face showed only friendship. I’m looking for barbs where they don’t exist, Abiene decided. Not every woman stings like my sister.

A duet of sighs rose with the steam as the women eased into their tubs. Abiene lay back for a moment before she went about the business of washing. Her eyes popped open with a revelation. “Oh, darn it! I forgot the wine.”

Thaurron strode briskly in as if summoned, bearing a silver tray. “I believe this is yours, my dear! How will you begin your debauchery, if not with wine?”

“How indeed,” Abiene laughed, flicking water at him. Sparky landed on the edge of her tub, scolding. “Only two glasses! Won’t you join us?”

Thaurron handed them each a chilled goblet. “I shall accompany you to the castle this year, so I must postpone my revelry just a bit longer. Felen will outshine me with his raiment, but with my wits about me I might yet find a way to surpass him.” Thaurron winked at Lildereth. “To no end, of course. A simple rivalry between friends.”

“I’m so pleased, Thaurron,” said Abiene. She leaned back and sipped her wine. “To think I have missed this in years past.”

“Your presence is what spurs me to celebration,” Thaurron told her merrily. “You must see me take a turn about the floor with Carahil. It is the dance of the chaffinch and the crane.” Thaurron spun around as he departed, elaborately bowing himself out the door.

“He cares for you,” Lildereth remarked, still laughing.

“More than I deserve. I feel I would do anything for the ones I love, except stay with them.” Tears rushed up behind Abiene’s eyes, infuriating her.

“Tonight is for enjoyment, as is tomorrow,” Lildereth said gently. “Let your concerns keep themselves for one day.”

Abiene ducked under the water to rinse away her sorrow. She came back up determinedly smiling. “Thank you, Lildereth. I wish we had more time together. Somehow I know we would be friends.”

Lildereth’s eyes twinkled the way only a Bosmer’s could. “I feel that we are friends already. Do not say farewell so soon. Our paths may cross again.”

“Do you have plans?”

“I thought I might go to Kvatch for a time. I’m a market hunter, and the guild needs venison for feather potions.”

“Oh, you should travel with Darnand and Jerric!” Abiene sat up in the tub, excited. “Darnand speaks so highly of you, and Jerric would never bother shouting at someone he didn’t care about.”

“Perhaps I’ll find them there. They plan to ride, and I don’t have a horse. Besides, I prefer to travel off the roads.”

“I do hope so. It would ease my mind to know they had someone sensible with them.”

Abiene and Lildereth finished the wine in Abiene’s chamber. Lildereth amazed Abiene by using gentle streams of warm air to dry their hair. The wood elf took her time playing with Abiene’s curls, eventually drawing them into a loose twist at the back of her head. She tugged a few free and tweaked them with her fingers until they framed Abiene’s face to her apparent satisfaction.

Abiene smiled at her as they switched places in front of the mirror. “Your turn.” She picked up Lildereth’s brush.

Another thing to envy, Abiene sighed to herself. Lildereth’s hair was as glossy and smooth as the Niben on a moonlit night. Abiene watched the Bosmer’s eyes close with pleasure under her touch. “My mother used to do this,” Lildereth murmured. “Long ago.”

Abiene looked at the wood elf’s delicate features more carefully. Slight shadows darkened her eyelids, and she looked sallow under her tan. Abiene stilled her hands. “Do you feel all right, Lildereth?” She saw her own cheeks flush in the mirror. “I’m sorry, that was a little blunt.”

Lildereth’s eyes opened, pale green and almost luminous. “I suppose I’ve been tired lately.” She looked at Abiene in the mirror. “How should we style it? You decide.”

Abiene chose braids running down from a center part, tucked into a roll at the neck. For a moment she was stymied by Lildereth’s ears. They have their own fragile beauty, she mused, smoothing the hair behind them. When she carelessly brushed one with her knuckles, Lildereth jumped in her seat. That answers that question, thought Abiene. She made her movements more cautious.

Lildereth’s green dress bared her shoulders and a flattering amount of cleavage. The sleeves and skirt fell loosely around her, but the close-fitting bodice showed off her shape. Abiene tightened the laces until Lildereth gasped. Her bosom surged above the neckline. “Your dance card will be full this evening,” Abiene giggled. She blamed the wine.

“I’ll be breathless the entire night!” laughed Lildereth. “Give me room to breathe, or they will all think I’m panting with desire!”

Abiene showed some mercy with the laces. “Is there anyone in particular you have your eye on?”

Lildereth sighed. “Not for some time. Such matters have not held my interest lately.”

Abiene chose her sleeveless gown made of deep burgundy silk. The neckline rose high in the front, showing only her collarbones. The back dipped low, open halfway to her waist. Tiny, evenly spaced beads glittered across the fabric. Abiene pulled the material snug over her hips so Lildereth could close the hooks along the side. This is not the dress to wear with Jerric, Abiene thought with a smile. She shook out the full skirt when Lildereth stepped back, checking herself in the mirror.

“A healer’s robe does not do you justice, Abiene,” said Lildereth. “What jewelry are you wearing?”

“Just earrings.” Abiene smiled her thanks as she fastened Jerric’s gift onto her ears.

Lildereth took her hands, holding them out to the sides as she looked her over critically. “I have a bracelet you can borrow. I’ll be right back.”

Their final primping complete, Lildereth and Abiene moved swiftly through the guild hall, following the mages’ chatter from the entry. Abiene smiled at the sight of her guild mates’ muffled figures gathered there. Most had their heads together in jovial conversation, but Darnand and Marc seemed to be engaged in one of their interminable staring competitions. Darnand has my cloak, Abiene realized with surprise.

“At last!” Thaurron exclaimed. “Ladies, we are graced by your presence. We are also delayed by its long absence. Make haste, friends! To the castle!”

The door let in a rush of wet air, but the rain seemed to have ended. “Felen, is this your doing?” Carahil demanded as she stepped through.

“Ayleid weather magic?” The Dunmer replied. Abiene lost the end of his remark as they passed into the street.

Darnand’s eyes were on her, admiring. Abiene stopped for a moment in the hall to look back at him. His haughty expression had faded, and now his lean features held an almost boyish smile. He held her cloak in his hands, ready for her. “Will you permit me?” he asked softly.

Abiene stepped in front of him, bending her neck as he secured it around her shoulders. Her stomach surprised her with a nervous flutter. Thaurron’s words returned to her. Surely tonight will pass without any awkward declarations, Abiene thought.

Once on the portico, they found their guild mates already processing down the street under a halo of glittering light. Carahil and Felen led the group, the Altmer’s long strides keeping the trailing wood elves at a trot. She sent up another swirl of sparks as they watched. Darnand caught Abiene’s eye, and they shared an indulgent smile. “Illusionists,” said Abiene. “Such theatrics!”

Darnand offered his arm, and Abiene gave it a squeeze when she took it. I’m going to miss him, she thought. They walked out under a clearing sky, the wet cobbles just beginning to reflect the starlight.