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

[Acadian]

Opening scene- *sigh* - Poor Darnand.

'The Riptide looked the same as The Flowing Bowl inside. Dark and smoky, with every surface showing hard use. It smelled the same, too, Darnand decided. The music of wood elf voices was absent here, replaced by a sullen mutter. Darnand followed his friend to the bar. He guessed that Jerric’s Bruma porter must come from one of the barrels against the wall. That meant they would drink from tavern crockery. Darnand braced himself for an unsanitary experience.'
What a masterfully scene-setting description. I luvs those musical wood elven voices!

A fun episode - admittedly not so for Jerric nor Darnand. I really enjoyed the 'classy' arrest treatment that Darnand received.

[King Coin]

Chapter 10.4
It sounds like Abiene doesn’t mind it a little rough

I like the description of Jerric’s healing. It certainly fits him though. Gets what needs to be done not through finesse, but brute strength and determination.

She’s interested in both Jerric and Darnand eh? Which is she going to choose… because I don’t think she’ll be with both unless this turn into one of those books.

Wait did I just totally misread her interest in him? I’m like a child, hoping for approval from Papa, she realized

@ the Woodelf. I always imagined them as those ‘cursed morning people.’

Chapter 10.5
Morvayn’s Peacemakers feels as much like an island for Jerric almost as much as the MG and FG does amongst the world.

None of my characters got any special treatment for being a hero! No repairs under the promise of payment!

“Shall I paralyze you now, or would you like a head start?”
Great line!

What will be better? Glad I don’t have to wait to find out. An advantage of being horribly behind you see. I bet you enjoyed dangling that in front of everyone.

Chapter 10.6
Ah crap.

[Grits]

Folks, since I decided to go ahead and keep the whole story in one thread, I added a table of contents to the very first post with links to the beginning of each chapter. There are also a few screenshots of the Fort Strand adventure posted in King Coin's excellent video thread.


SubRosa: Abiene’s habits never changed to most of her guild mates. She lost a lot of sleep, but restoration magic helps with that. I expect she slept the whole way to Chorrol! I doubt Jerric is reliable counting past eleven. He might not remember to take off his boots.

mALX: You’re right, Jerric would only need to worry if Bog Trawler recognized her, since he’s been so generous with his affection. And now that Darnand has Abiene on that pedestal, she would be his last guess. Thank you, mALX!! I’m glad you enjoyed the Breton’s-eye view of the fight.

Acadian: I thought you might enjoy Darnand noticing the elf voices. Thaurron and Lildereth have had an influence on him. Thank you for mentioning Constable Illio’s manner. I think Countess Umbranox would encourage courtesy as part of maintaining order. Courtesy backed up with a sharp sword.

King Coin: You read her interest right, she has all kinds of tingly feelings for both of them. She also wants Darnand to see how clever she is, like when she would bring home school work to show off her good grades. Darnand does remind her of her father, but not in icky ways. Yikes, you did stop at an “oh crap” moment.

Where we are: Darnand goes to jail.



Chapter 12: Return to Kvatch, Part 2

Darnand and Constable Illio passed down stone stairs and through corridors until they reached a square chamber lined with cupboards. A grizzled Imperial in a guard’s uniform stood beside a desk with his arms crossed over his barrel chest, a ring of keys clenched in his fist. An assortment of shackles and chains hung on the wall behind him. Illio placed Jerric’s dagger on the desk next to a ledger, parchment, and writing implements. Jerric’s voice reached them from the chamber beyond as Darnand stared at his jailer, but Darnand did not hear what he was saying.

The Imperial frowned at him. “Name,” he grunted.

“Darnand Penoit of Anvil, Associate of the Mages Guild.”

“Have you been informed of the charges against you?” The jailer sounded irritated.

Darnand cleared his throat. “Yes.”

“You’ll be booked when the complaint is filed, or released in due time if no one comes forward. Fill in the parchment. Anything on him I need to know about?” Darnand realized that the question was directed at his captor.

“He’s clean,” said Illio. Darnand signed his name under Jerric’s scrawled signature and Bog Trawler’s mark. He noted that the other Nord had not supplied a given name.

“Let’s go, lawbreaker,” said the guard. “Your suite is ready. Stay in front of me, hands out where I can see them.”

Darnand preceded him into the dungeon. Torchlight showed him a long, windowless chamber with barred openings on either side. Straw was stacked in bales and loosely piled in a cart against the far wall. The smells of everything a body could expel assaulted his nose. As he walked down the center holding his hands carefully out from his sides, his fellow prisoners jeered at him in tones from bored to deranged. Then through the bars of one cell, there was Jerric.

The cell door shut behind Darnand with a clang that made him flinch. A quick glance over his friend showed only a purple mark under one eye and a scrape on his forehead. After a second look, Darnand decided that there was really no way to determine if his nose had been broken again, short of asking.

Jerric reached out and squeezed Darnand’s shoulders. “Sorry about this,” he said. “I should have kept you out of it.”

Darnand swallowed until he felt his voice wouldn’t crack. Then he realized he didn’t have anything to say.

“Don’t worry,” Jerric told him. “I’ve been in and out of here so often I’m surprised they even locked the door. And they didn’t even make us change into their prison clothes. Maybe we’ll just be here overnight.” He moved over and leaned against the bars. “When you’re bare and bent over with the law investigating your person, that’s when you know you’ve done wrong. I’d swear that of any folk of all races, prison guards have the thickest thumbs.” Jerric winked. “At least I hope that’s what they use.”

“By the Nine! For what purpose is that done? Do you suppose he will return?” Darnand looked frantically out through the bars. Then he worried that he might have drawn the guard’s attention.

“They search you on the way in if you’ve really misbehaved,” Jerric explained. They might have been in the dining hall at the mages guild, for all the concern he showed. “Lockpicks, smuggled goods, you’d be surprised what folk carry around. I once saw an Imperial with a whole sheep’s bladder full of moon sugar, and I don’t mean in his pocket. He was not happy, I can tell you. Neither was the guard, actually. Ugh, what a job! No wonder they’re usually in a foul temper.”

A shudder rippled through Darnand’s frame. “That just does not make sense to me. How could someone manage it?”

Jerric gave him an evaluating look. “Something tells me this is not the time to explain. Anyway, relax. That didn’t happen.” He dropped to the floor and started doing rapid pushups.

Erratic behavior from one’s cellmate was not comforting, Darnand decided. He looked around the cell, rubbing his hands up his arms. A rough pallet and a bucket in the corner were the only furnishings. The floor was strewn with straw and unidentifiable oddments. And occupied by a Nord of exceptional cheer and vigor. “What are you doing?” Darnand finally asked.

“Check-in procedure,” Jerric grunted without pausing. “I’ll stay calmer if I’m tired.”

“Well you are not helping me to relax.” At least the straw is fairly fresh, Darnand noticed. He did not want to think about the bucket.

“Join me down here. Could be a life-altering decision.”

“No, but thank you.” Darnand shivered again.

Jerric popped up and grinned at him. “You live all day inside your mind, but this meat has to carry you around.” He dug a hard finger into Darnand’s arm. “What will you do when you’re too weak and spindly to pick up a book? What if you have to pull me out of a ruin? I’d like to think you could at least help me home if I exhaust myself in a brothel.”

“A mage can enhance his strength and abilities. I could cast a feather spell and drag you with two fingers.” Darnand thought that the cell had become a little smaller.

“That’s going to be impressive when you’re with a lady. ‘Just a moment, love, I must enhance my strength and abilities. I shall cast a spell to make you less of a heavy burden.’ Women love to hear stuff like that. Hey, maybe you could wear an enchanted—”

“All right, I take your point,” said Darnand. There is nothing else to do, he thought. “Show me.”

Darnand did his best to imitate Jerric. Eventually he decided that he must be doing well, as his chills had turned to sweat. He had time to regret it when Jerric said they were through. Darnand’s muscles burned in ways he hadn’t experienced, and cold and clammy was worse than just cold. “No spells,” Jerric told him, leaning against the wall with his legs stretched across the cell. “If you use magic, we’ll both get the irons.”

Darnand scooted back against the wall next to him. His mouth felt dry, and his stomach rumbled despite the stench. Another chill shook him.

“I wish I still had my Ring of the North,” Jerric said. “It had an enchantment to keep you warm. I didn’t really need it, but sometimes it came in handy when I was with a woman. You know, outside. Too bad I lost it, you could use it tonight.”

Darnand stared at him, deciding which question to ask first. “You lost an enchanted ring?”

“I didn’t misplace it, I lost it dicing. Then I learned to throw better, but the fetcher I lost it to never wagered it again.”

“You mean you learned to cheat.”

“No,” Jerric explained patiently. “I practiced until I knew how to win. I don’t cheat.” He gave Darnand a look that a six year old might try when caught with his hand in the sweet jar. “You don’t have any dice on you, by some chance?”

“We do not require dice to wager.” Darnand began breaking up an abandoned crust of bread. “For example, do you see that spider, descending from the beam? Which way will she turn when she reaches the floor, left or right?”

Jerric stared intently at the spider. Darnand pushed half of the bread cubes over to him and leaned forward to scribe a line in the debris directly under the spider. “Left,” said Jerric. He brushed aside the straw and slapped one of his bread cubes on the stones between them. “A bet while we wait for the spider. Which of those Imperials will be the first to spew?”

Darnand looked over at the cell across from them. Three young men in fine but disheveled clothing sat against the far wall in various states of distress. “The one in the red doublet.” He met Jerric’s spider bet and placed a second bread cube to the side.

By the time Darnand had won all of the scraps of bread, he was hungry enough to consider eating them. He rarely thought about meals, but then he always knew that the next one would be available. Jerric’s persistent hunger seemed more reasonable now. Darnand decided that rather than dwell on his situation, he would to try to sleep.

Jerric must have had the same idea. “You take the bed,” Jerric told him, lifting his chin at the pallet. “Don’t worry, anything that bites you will likely scamper off before you can jump. Anyway, I doubt you’ll be much of a haven for fleas. I’ve slept with women who are hairier than you.” Jerric started unbuckling as he headed to the bucket.

There were so many things in Jerric’s remarks that Darnand found disquieting, he decided to just let the whole thing go. He curled on the pallet in a way that he might touch as little as possible. It reeked of mold and unwashed folk. Darnand said a brief prayer that he might temporarily lose his sense of smell. Then he prayed to lose his hearing as Jerric endlessly filled the bucket, humming a jaunty tune.

Jerric stretched out on the stones with such a contented sigh, Darnand almost looked to see if he had conjured a feather bed. He closed his eyes against the torchlight, surprised to realize how close sleep had already come. He found his mind turning away from the comfort of his bed at the guild hall, instead wondering at the camps and inns to come. This night is only the first of weeks of discomfort, he realized. But at least I know the company will be entertaining.

___

Darnand woke on the floor, mysteriously and crushingly warm. Sweet Mother Mara, I’m in prison, he remembered. As his senses returned, he realized that he had joined the long and doubtlessly colorful parade of people who had been spooned by Jerric. He crawled away with a cry and staggered against the wall as his sleeping legs failed to support him.

When Jerric flopped over onto his back, Darnand decided that three of the pallets still wouldn’t contain him. His friend spoke in a sleepy voice, eyes still closed. “Don’t flatter yourself, we haven’t been in here that long. You were cold.”

Darnand brushed straw and a crawling sensation off of his chest and arms. “Where in the sixteen realms is your shirt?” He could not imagine why the Nord couldn’t keep his clothes on.

Jerric reached under his head and produced it. “No pillow.” He opened his eyes. “You’re a heavy sleeper. You’re lucky it’s me you’re locked in with, pretty boy.” His wiggling eyebrows looked so ludicrous, Darnand couldn’t help but snort.

He smoothed his hair and began to shake his robe into order. His body was a chorus of complaints, but he ignored it. “I do not suppose that the guards will break our fast with a fresh pot of kahve.”

“Let’s hope they don’t break our anything. I might not know the next fellow who comes in here. We’ve had a pleasant stay so far, but you never know when one of them is going to share his bad day.” Jerric climbed to his feet, pulling his shirt on over his head.

Jangling keys and grumbling preceded a guard into the dungeon. Darnand grew both hopeful and concerned when he walked straight to their cell.

“Pack your bags, it’s time to drag your stinking carcass out of my jail,” the guard growled.

Jerric lounged against the bars, straw in his hair and an insolent grin on his face. “So soon? I haven’t had a chance to dine on the county’s drake. I’ll have some strawberry jam on my toast, and make sure my eggs aren’t runny.”

“Ha! Fellow from the Riptide dropped the charges last night when he came by to pick up his shackles. I guess he heard you drink more than you break. Bog Trawler’s been out for hours. You ladies looked so cozy, I didn’t want to wake you.” He began to work his key in the lock.

“What are you still doing here?” Jerric asked. “Are you fellows pulling double shifts?” Darnand realized that it must be the same man who locked them in last night.

“Double and then some. The Watch has new patrols, with news of daedra roaming about. More training with the county militia, and some of them still on the teat. Half the guards that had prison duty are back up on the walls.”

The jailer returned Jerric’s daggers at the desk. Their fines left them with only a few coins between them. Darnand suspected that their gold would go straight into the man’s pocket, and the record of their arrest would meet a flame. He decided not to mention his theory to Jerric. His friend might drag him to the Steward’s office to ensure justice was done on them. Jerric had a unique sense of duty for a repeat offender.

They stopped when they reached the castle bridge to raise their faces to the sun. “Mid-morning,” Jerric sighed. “It’s a good day to buy a horse.” He looked at Darnand. “I suppose you won’t be right until you’ve had a bath. Let’s find something to eat and some kahve first. I don’t think you’ve blinked since I handed you my dagger. We’re out now, you can go ahead and breathe.”

Darnand decided that he wouldn’t argue. Jerric bought some kind of food from a Harborside cart, and Darnand devoured it without questions. He chugged his kahve under the amused glances of Jerric and the kahve vendor. “One night inside, and you’re eating like an inmate,” Jerric laughed at him. They walked into the Chapelgate District in companionable silence. There were plenty of folk out on the street. Darnand wondered if he looked like a criminal.

“Dammit,” said Jerric, halting in his tracks in front of the chapel. “I went the wrong way.”

Darnand stopped too. “Will you meet me at the guild hall later? I will negotiate your purchase with Clesa, if you wish.”

“Yeah, I definitely wish.” Jerric began to walk backward toward the Castle Gate. “Do your exercise,” he said, pointing at Darnand.

“If I think of it,” Darnand replied, smiling to himself. He turned and started toward the guild hall again.

“Keep doing it, every day,” Jerric said earnestly, raising his voice as the distance increased.

“Perhaps I will forget how,” Darnand called over his shoulder. He relished the rare opportunity to tease Jerric.

“Darnand!” he heard Jerric shout behind him a moment later. He turned and looked at him down the busy street. “Just keep doing it like I showed you in prison!” Jerric made a motion that indicated pushups. From the looks on the faces around him, Darnand suspected that the gesture was being widely misinterpreted.

Jerric gave Darnand a cheery grin and a Nord-sized wave. Every head in the street swiveled around to look back at Darnand. As he made his way through the interested crowd, Darnand tried to console himself with the thought that at least today was not a market day.

[haute ecole rider]

If I ever get thrown into prison, Jerric's the cell mate I want! Even if I'm male!

Poor Darnand. At least they put him in with Jerric, and not Bog Trawler!

“When you’re bare and bent over with the law investigating your person, that’s when you know you’ve done wrong. I’d swear that of any folk of all races, prison guards have the thickest thumbs.” Jerric winked. “At least I hope that’s what they use.”

Just surprised to see that kind of talk here, that's all. But very, very appropriate, given the situation (both in the story and the fact that it's on a PG-13 forum!).

Erratic behavior from one’s cellmate was not comforting, Darnand decided

Hey, at least it's Jerric!

“A mage can enhance his strength and abilities. I could cast a feather spell and drag you with two fingers.” Darnand thought that the cell had become a little smaller.

“That’s going to be impressive when you’re with a lady. ‘Just a moment, love, I must enhance my strength and abilities. I shall cast a spell to make you less of a heavy burden.’ Women love to hear stuff like that. Hey, maybe you could wear an enchanted—”

"Give me a moment hon. Got to whip out the pump." What?? I'm leaving!

The betting game was funny, as was Darnand's thoughts about the reason for Jerric's bottomless appetite.

Then he prayed to lose his hearing as Jerric endlessly filled the bucket, humming a jaunty tune.

You mean Darnand doesn't have a spell for that? At least it's the bucket, not the corner!

As his senses returned, he realized that he had joined the long and doubtlessly colorful parade of people who had been spooned by Jerric. He crawled away with a cry and staggered against the wall as his sleeping legs failed to support him.

Perfect timing! My mouth just happened to be empty of tea as I read this!

“Darnand!” he heard Jerric shout behind him a moment later. He turned and looked at him down the busy street. “Just keep doing it like I showed you in prison!” Jerric made a motion that indicated pushups. From the looks on the faces around him, Darnand suspected that the gesture was being widely misinterpreted.

Jerric gave Darnand a cheery grin and a Nord-sized wave. Every head in the street swiveled around to look back at Darnand. As he made his way through the interested crowd, Darnand tried to console himself with the thought that at least today was not a market day.

A perfect ending to a bawdy, rollicking and funny tale!

[D.Foxy]

Grits, if you keep on getting bawdier than me, I really think I must sue you for copyright infringement.




...AND inflicting greivous injury on LCD screens through induced beverage expectoration...

[King Coin]

Chapter 10.7
Looks like Jerric’s initial plan of going to the waterfront is coming around anyways. Not sure about the fighting though. That might be out of town.

So funny that Maelona is warning Jerric to be on his guard in a place he frequents.

I didn’t see that one coming! Jerric recognized the guard! Hilarious!

He pulling in Darnand?

[SubRosa]

Abiene's habits never changed? So who was she sneaking off to boff on the beach before Jerric arrived? Keeping your romantic liaisons secret from the people you live with is not very easy, especially not for a long time. They see you coming and going all the time and notice when you are not there. Not to mention most people who are in a positive romantic relationship tend to behave in a much happier manner all around. While the people in the bad ones do the opposite. Add the fact that they went on several public dates, and well, it is really hard to miss. Although I do not really see why either would go to the effort of keeping it a secret? So far as I can tell Abiene has nothing to lose, and Jerric does not seem like someone who normally shows discretion with any of the women he is with (although granted, most of them seem to be prostitutes).

I’ve been in and out of here so often I’m surprised they even locked the door.


Well, Darnand's night in prison was not so bad. Well, not counting the Nord spooning part.

It was good to see a mention of Daedra. I was wondering when they would begin to show their ugly heads again.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Aug 18 2011, 02:29 AM

[Acadian]

What a fun romp through the Anvil jail!

You certainly do a masterful job of portraying the stark differences here betwen two of your leading men. Bravo, Grits.

'Jerric popped up and grinned at him. “You live all day inside your mind, but this meat has to carry you around.” He dug a hard finger into Darnand’s arm. “What will you do when you’re too weak and spindly to pick up a book? What if you have to pull me out of a ruin? I’d like to think you could at least help me home if I exhaust myself in a brothel.”
As a lifetime devotee of physical fitness, I can think of no more eloquent way of stating the case.

[King Coin]

Chapter 10.8
I never thought of magic having a particular smell… except conjuration. Do shock spells smell like ozone?

Be careful, I don’t want to put it on and experience fire damage
Understatement.
I actually was wondering if it was possible to constantly fuel an Atronach (or anyone really) with 100% magic absorption and an enchantment with magic damage on self. I haven’t tried it yet.

I really like the effect the Sigil Stones are having on them when they use them. They look like evil. I had one in a display case and the constant humming from the thing drove me crazy.

Meridia… One of the Deadra I like. Anyone who has necromancers killed is good in my book.

@ Darnand’s reaction to the job.

LOL! Going to get another lunch at the other guild!

Chapter 10.9
Talking about all the food and I missed DINNER. I was doing fine until now.

[mALX]

GAAAAK !!! URK !!! "Why is this lockpick so ... brown? ... er ... What's that smell?"

Poor Darnand! He is not suited for this kind of place ... and I'll bet Carahill will take Jerric's head off for causing his incarceration !!

This line had me rolling:

Jerric had a unique sense of duty for a repeat offender.

Awesome Write !!

[King Coin]

Chapter 10.10
Beer and a brawl sounds great, but training is definitely a better use of your time. I’m glad that it is at least occurring to him to train now rather than the whole train of thought ending with “I want beer.”

The “sparring” is a really good idea. I know I’ve trained with summons before.

Oh Jeez. Foolish redguards. Does make the story interesting however.

[King Coin]

Chapter 10.11
“Stop right there, criminal scum!”
you HAD to use that line! I even heard the Imperial Legion in my mind!

Never been silenced before Jerric?

Whoa! Down and empty handed! Just when I thought he was victorious too!

LOL! @ walking into the Flowing Bowl

Well some lessons learned. He won’t overlook those items again.

[Grits]

Folks, no story update this time. I just want to answer your very much appreciated comments.


haute ecole rider: I don’t think Jerric could imagine a higher compliment than an offer to share his cell. I’m so glad you enjoyed Darnand’s little walk in Jerric’s boots. I think Jerric did manage to make it less horrific for his friend. Apart from the cuddling.

D. Foxy: Oh dear Foxy, you know you should keep a towel handy!! I hope the damage was reparable.

King Coin: I thought Maelona’s line was funny too. He is the one she’s warning him about! Oh, Darnand is in for some new experiences. I was thinking that fire spells would make a smell, but I now think shock would, too. I haven’t tried that damage to self/100% absorption thing. Would it run out of juice because it’s an attack? Funnily enough, Darnand has a similar idea for a scroll/spell. Eventually we’ll see if it works out.

SubRosa: Thank you very much for bringing up those questions. Those are some fundamental things that I thought I had addressed through the story, but what I hoped to convey has not come across. I trust my characters, and I know I’m telling the right story. I would like to learn how to tell it better. Would you say that the events are not believable, the characters are acting in ways they shouldn’t, both, or something different? It would help me to know which parts I need to communicate better.

Here’s how I see the issues that you mentioned:

Why doesn’t everyone know that Abiene has been sneaking off to boff Jerric? Everyone she lives with sees her coming and going between the guild hall, the healing hall, and errands in town, just like always. No one from the guild sees her going to the beach. We’ve seen her using her spells to prevent that. They’re used to her being somewhere else a lot of the time and keeping healers’ hours. Carahil already knows, and as Abiene’s boss she’s the only one who keeps track of Abiene’s free time. Darnand looks for her in the morning and at meals, and she’s there. Gulitte spies on her when she’s doing yoga, and she’s there. Felen talks to her when she comes in at night if he’s still awake, just like always. It’s actually pretty easy to deceive people who trust you, and Abiene has a lot of practice. She must have slipped up at Jerric’s house at least once for Bog Trawler to have seen her there, but Jerric doesn’t think it’s general knowledge or he wouldn’t have jumped on Bog Trawler to shut him up.

How can anyone miss what’s going on, since they’ve been on several public dates? Well, they haven’t. One of the things they discuss is that they have so little time together, they spend all of it naked. They spent part of one Loredas together in public. Abiene worked at the healing hall that morning, then they visited the market, ran into Thaurron at the garden house, walked through the marsh, Abiene declined to get sweaty on top of the lighthouse, they went out to dinner, then Jerric swapped Abiene for Darnand at the guild hall and went on the Sirens job the same night. All that time Jerric treated her exactly the way Darnand did at the ball. Also the way Felen, Thaurron, and Gulitte treated her. Holding her cloak and offering an arm are just courtesies. Nothing in their behavior would suggest she was dating much less sleeping with any of them. It would also not be unusual for Abiene to spend some leisure time with a guild mate, especially one who needs some emotional support. That’s what she does, we’ve seen several people mention it. If she had spent the afternoon with Rhano, people might look for romantic intentions. Even then, I can’t see anyone assuming that going out to dinner once means that she must be having sex with her date.

Why doesn’t everyone notice that she is extra happy/sad? Jerric is the only one who sees her happy, that’s something we saw them discuss. Mostly their relationship makes her exhausted and conflicted. People have noticed that she is wearing herself out, and they have commented about her working too hard. Given the state of affairs in Cyrodiil, everyone is upset. Her best friend noticed the light in her eyes, as he put it. Otherwise she’s just as stressed out as everyone else.

Why are they bothering to still keep it a secret? This is pretty important to understanding Abiene. She explained her reasons for discretion, and they haven’t changed. Jerric only keeps it quiet because Abiene asked him to. I hope I have shown that he would not betray her trust. Neither of them thinks they have a future together, so they would gain nothing by revealing their past. Abiene would have to admit to some very slutty behavior, her mother would be furious, her sister would be embarrassed, and her friends would be hurt that she had deceived them. Abiene has said that she considers Anvil to be her home. She wants to preserve her Anvil reputation, not damage it. Jerric explained the hopelessness of their situation when he returned to Anvil, before he slept with her again. If they had a chance to someday be together, they would have a reason to date openly and deal with the consequences.

Again, thank you for sharing the holes you see in the situation. If current events sound implausible, then it’s likely that more of the story will also ring false. I would like to know how to communicate my characters better, so that I’m not trying to build part of my story on a broken foundation.

New business: The Anvil Dungeon Jerric Suite comes with a hairy, half-naked Nord blanket. No extra charge. I’m glad you mentioned the daedra. This is a good time for a reminder.

Acadian: If Darnand had to walk to Bruma with a pack on his back, this would be a much longer story. Thank you for drawing attention to Jerric’s fitness evangelism. As I’m sure you know, it’s his way of caring for Darnand.

mALX: You’re right, Carahil’s vision of running a clean hall does not include her mages doing the walk of shame from the dungeons! Thanks, mALX!!

Where we are: Jerric and Darnand have embarked on their road trip. We’ll catch up with them in the next update. A reminder about the timeline: Jerric was in Anvil for a little under a month. According to the way time passes in this story, it has been about a week in the Deadlands since he closed the last Gate.

This post has been edited by Grits: Aug 20 2011, 04:57 PM

[King Coin]

Chapter 10.12


Took me a second read through to figure out where Vidkun came from then I was oh. So that’s what happened.
Chapter 10.13

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


Ah crap. The fact you included the attack of grief is genius though. I really haven’t thought of his family much and this was a perfect reminder.

Question game turns into a serious discussion. I’ve never really found fortify spells very useful. I might give them a go again though. Maybe with Aravi?

She's happy that she can really help Jerric

[King Coin]

Chapter 10.14
I really liked meeting Thaurron. Hearing about the trouble his imp gets into is great!
Haha Jerric wants to run away from the song written about him. I guess I don’t blame him.
that was hilarious meeting the prostitute!
Lovely scene at the lighthouse.

Chapter 10.15
Woohoo! The quest begins.
Good manner is short supply at the Flowing Bowl? Lol.
Things are not going as planned it seems. Typical
A f------ daedroth??? I can only imagine how horrific that scene was.

[Destri Melarg]

Every time I come back to this you’ve added ten pages!! I’ll be back once I’ve caught up.

[King Coin]

Chapter 10.16
…go in search of the apple pie that followed. Our Nord failed to join us this evening, so there may be a piece left.” They shared a smile. No mortal ever loved pie more than Jerric.
Couldn’t help but grin at that.

Hearing of the fights at dinner gives the bland NPCs of Oblivion some welcome character.

Thaurron and Sparky are quite the pair. I’m glad you included them.

Aliene, what a mess… and speaking of messes it’s a good thing you didn’t see Darnand. Freaking Daedroth ripping people to shreds. What was really weird was how calm he was. Probably was gibbering on the inside.

Chapter 10.17
Well Jerric messed that up at the breakfast table.
Darnand seems more formal than usual.
Haha funny ending!

[Grits]

King Coin: Fortify spells take some planning, so they’re very new to my game. I’m glad you liked the teacup incident. It’s easy to forget that he’s still broken. Thaurron has become one of my favorite NPCs since I started this story, even though he wasn’t so much in the game. Yep, a daedroth. Darnand could be a loose cannon at this point. You’re right about how he felt in the aftermath. Gibbering on the inside, then sort of retreating back into his formal shell, even with Jerric. Darnand’s tone has gotten more formal overall, that was my oversight in the beginning. First story.

Destri: I am honored and delighted that you’re reading. I hope very much that the story keeps your interest. Posting has slowed down lately, if that helps.

Where we are: Jerric and Darnand have embarked on their road trip. You might notice a departure from game mechanics. Please do not try this in the game.



Chapter 12: Return to Kvatch, Part 3

Jerric knelt in a doorway high in the Sigil Keep, looking in at the pillar of fire. The livid, membranous floor told him he had reached the uppermost chamber. Two staircases with steps like severed claws arched up to meet on the next, open level. Above that, Jerric knew there would be two ramps to the final platform where the Sigil Stone hovered in its frame, powering the Gate.

He watched the pink glows moving above him. Too many life signs. Too many daedra. He had already used Jone’s Shadow to pass invisibly between two deadroth outside the main tower, and his last invisibility potion got him through a gathering of armored dremora in a lower chamber. His gut lurched with fury at the memories. Now he had to avoid another fight while every part of him howled for justice. The potion he had made from pears and wisp stalk caps would give him additional speed, but it would also cause him some pain. Best to take while it would not distract him, he decided. He reached into his daypack for the vial.

His ring showed him the shapes of two daedroth and two dremora on the level above him. The platform at the top was too far for him to detect the signs of any daedra. There’s usually at least one up there, he thought. Maybe more this time.

Jerric drank the potion and tucked the vial back into his pack, gritting his teeth against the stab of pain. It wasn’t bad this time. He guessed that the shriek from his torn back must be drowning out his smaller discomforts.

The pacing daedra finally arranged themselves to his liking. Jerric cast the spell to improve his speed, then brought his scamp to the front of his mind as he crept up the claw stairs, concealed by the next level’s overhanging lip. Exhaustion weighed his limbs despite the spells. The thrumming fire provided cover for the noise he must be making.

A furious voice like grinding metal told Jerric it was time to run. He summoned his scamp as he launched himself up the final steps and into full view. The two daedroth and a dremora mage stood to his left, no closer than a dozen paces. Precious scrambled up facing that direction, already throwing a flare. The shouting dremora charged around from the right, drawing its sword. Jerric would have to pass one way or the other to reach the leathery ramps. He ran toward the warrior.

Lightning cracked behind him over the fire’s roar. Jerric dodged the dremora’s shield bash and kept running around the tower, looking over past the column of flame to see Precious fight. He heard the armored dremora behind him, but he knew he was faster.

Both daedroth had engaged with Precious. One lifted the scamp and simply ripped it in two at the waist, sending it back to the Void. More lightning arced toward Jerric from the mage’s staff. He saw that it would hit the wall behind him as he ran. A glance upward showed him his last enemy.

A storm atronach. The daedra was already making its way down one of the ramps. The large rocks that made up its body came apart, beginning to rotate around its indistinct center. Jerric jumped onto the other ramp, almost skidding off as he reversed his direction. Get the Sigil Stone, he told himself.

Roars and thundering feet from below told him that the daedroth had joined the chase. Shock energy angled past him again, and he heard a furious screech over the fire. He slid to a stop on the platform and reached into the inferno for the humming stone.

Even through his surcoat and mail, the stone’s vibration seemed to seep into his bones. Jerric drew his sword as the storm atronach approached up one ramp. A daedroth’s fanged snout became visible as the monster climbed the other, roaring. Its companion was right on its heels. The Sigil Stone’s frame cracked behind him, and the platform lurched. Jerric felt the stone begin to pull him back into the collapsing pillar of fire. It would draw him down the heatless flame and back out through the Gate, he knew. Or he could stand and make his end.

Jerric stepped toward the daedra. “Come on!” he screamed, raising his sword.

White flame took him in a blinding rush. He became a wisp inside a vortex, without substance but drawn by the racing stone. Motion abruptly ceased with a sound like the world breaking. He opened his eyes to a sun-drenched hillside. Legion soldiers and Kvatch militia stood in a meadow. And there was Darnand.

Jerric found his feet as noise erupted around him. A Legion captain moved up to stand beside Darnand and the Kvatch officer. Their words melted into the cheers, and over it all Jerric thought he could still hear the fire.

Redeemer felt heavy in his hand, so he sheathed it. There were too many faces gathering around him, and he still felt like he should fight. He looked over at the distant trees until it passed. The soldiers begin to move down the hill away from them. Away from the Gate, Jerric remembered. He looked to the side where black spikes jutted out of the cracked soil, like the ribs of some abomination that had somehow grown there.

A meadow lark’s song was the first sound that made sense. Then Jerric realized that the Legion captain was speaking to them. “We’ll keep a guard on this site until we’re told otherwise. You men will be safe if you camp here tonight.” The captain looked like he wanted to say more, but he just extended his arm.

Jerric clasped the captain’s forearm, then the Kvatch officer’s. He hoped he wouldn’t need to know what the men had been saying.

The captain turned to Darnand as he stepped back. Respect and gratitude remained on the captain’s face. “Magister.” The men exchanged a nod before the officers strode away.

Darnand took the humming stone and handed Jerric a water skin. After a few moments, Jerric followed him down the rise away from the Gate. Green stickle bushes stood out against the winter-brown grass. They passed legionaries piling brush against a stack of skinned corpses. Jerric realized that they must have been scamps.

“Looks like you had a fight after I went in,” Jerric said.

Darnand pointed further down the hill, toward the Gold Road. Dremora lay in a row, stripped of their armor. Their chests had been opened. “The fire atronachs don’t leave much behind,” he said. “Just some residue on their armor. We thought the whole hill would burn at one point. Then it rained.”

Now Jerric noticed the darkened swathes. The ground under their feet was dry. They were following a path trampled into the grass. “How long was I in?”

“Three days.”

“I count less than a day my time. But it’s hard to tell.”

Jerric remembered climbing this hill from the road, up toward the blazing Gate. Three days ago, he told himself, trying to make it real. He drained the last drops from the water skin.

When they neared the Legion encampment, Darnand veered off toward some trees. “Our camp is over here,” he said. Jerric could hear the weariness in his voice. “Though I haven’t spent much time in it.”

Jerric dropped his gear and knelt near the bedrolls. “Help me.” He gestured to his back, stripping off his gauntlets.

Belts and buckles came off, and Darnand lifted the surcoat away. He hissed behind Jerric as he pulled at the mail. “Daedroth?”

“Daedric longsword. Some kind of enchantment. Felt like it sliced right across.” Now that his eyes were closed, they felt too heavy to open. Darnand pulled the armor and then the padded tunic over Jerric’s head. The stiffened cloth scraped his neck.

“You made a mess when you healed your back,” Darnand told him. “Lie down. Gods blood, Abiene is going to kill you.”

You know you’re tired when you’re glad to smell your own bedroll, Jerric thought. Then exhaustion took him.

Jerric woke some time later to mist and the aroma of kahve. The light told him it was either dusk or a new day. He raised his head and looked around.

“Morning,” said Darnand. The Breton held their wooden mugs. Steam rose into the chilly air.

Jerric struggled to a seated position. Sharp pains and deep aches told him he was not finished with his healing. He spotted his boots and greaves near the fire. “Thanks,” he said, nodding at them. “I guess I don’t remember that part.”

“You were not fully awake for it.” Darnand handed him a mug. “Legion brewed. They are breaking camp. The militia has already disbursed. Their cook expressed his admiration by packing some meals for us.” Darnand sat across from Jerric, placing a large bundle between them.

“Whatever we pull out first, we’re calling it breakfast. Where are the horses?” Jerric took a sip of kahve before he opened the bundle.

“They await us down by the road with the Legion riders.’ The Gate site will be watched. The further intricacies of their explanation slipped away from me as soon as they were voiced.”

“I’d wager those fellows have a standard procedure for shaking off their sticks. Can’t argue with their results, though.” He took another sip of kahve while Darnand dug for their meal. “Did you find the hearts in my pack?”

“No. I moved your things, but I left them arranged the way you dropped them.” Darnand held out two biscuits. “Cheese or sausage?”

Jerric took both biscuits. “We should make some healing potions while we’re comfortable here. I guess we’ve gone through our supply, some of those soldiers looked like they were in rough shape. Anyway, Flash doesn’t like daedra hearts in his pack. This way when we hit Kvatch, we can just do your task for the guild.” Jerric watched Darnand for a moment while he chewed. He wondered where his friend had stashed the Sigil Stone. As anxious as he was to ask about it, he thought Darnand might be more impatient to tell him.

Darnand balanced his biscuit on his knee and took a sip of kahve. A small smile crossed his face as he looked up. “An enchantment to fortify your very life’s energy. Or one that can pull the life from your enemy, and use it to heal your wounds as you strike.” His knuckles whitened on the mug, and he leaned forward a little. “Any enemy, Jerric. Regardless of its immunity to the elements. It will even absorb the energy that animates the undead.”

Jerric grinned at his friend. “You sound like you’re ready to take up the sword.”

“Or the spear, mace, or hammer. We could even enchant your axe.”

Jerric sucked in a breath. “Your staff! It’s just a stick now, but we could enchant it for you! Darnand, you might actually survive if we enchant your staff!”

Darnand placed his mug on the ground and stood, taking a bite of biscuit. He retrieved his staff and handed it to Jerric.

“I retract my remarks,” Jerric said with respect. The staff was chipped and darkened in places. Deep gouges had been scraped out of the wood.

“Scamps,” Darnand said, sitting back down. “I survived.”

Jerric placed the staff aside and returned to his breakfast. “So we’ll argue about it later.”

“I shall reserve some time this afternoon.”

Jerric looked down over the meadow as he drank his kahve. The mist had sunk to the road, and he knew that soon the sun would burn it away. Ash pits showed where the Legion had burned refuse from the battle. Jerric could see the remains of the Gate high on the hill. A breeze shook the bare branches above them. Their position provided shelter and a view. He knew they couldn’t be more than a ten minute walk away from water. “Let’s camp here again tonight,” he suggested. “I need to clean my gear and make some potions. You could probably stand to wash your socks. If you work on my back some more, I’ll let you try to hit me with your staff. We can crack our teeth on Legion biscuits for dinner and start for Kvatch before dawn. We’re less than half a day away.”

Darnand gave him a knowing look. “And if the Gate should open again, you will be here to close it.”

“Yeah,” said Jerric, standing. “Plus I need to get my head straight before… Say, look in my pack and get out my mortar and pestle. Felen gave them to me for Saturalia. You know, since I made Master of Alchemy.” Jerric couldn’t resist the little dig. “I’m going to take a piss and check on the horses. Try to get over being jealous before I get back. Give me your mug, I’ll see if they have any more kahve.”

By the time Jerric returned with the kahve, Darnand had filled the water bucket and gotten the fire going again. He sat with Jerric’s mortar and pestle resting in his lap. The white stone glowed faintly, even in daylight.

Jerric handed over the mugs and went about gathering his supplies. When he settled by the fire, Darnand’s hands were still idle.

“Stone from an Ayleid ruin,” Jerric told him. He began to work on Atronach’s Redeemer. “Try it. I have some aloe vera pulp you can use with the hearts.” He wondered how his friend would adapt to working on the ground beside a campfire instead of on a table at the guild hall.

Darnand held the pestle in his palm. “I can feel the magicka in this stone. I wonder what the original enchantment was.”

“Maybe something to keep it from weathering away for thousands of years. Do you think the stone helps make the potions stronger?”

“I believe it does. It seems to enhance the alchemist’s ability to draw the mystical properties from the ingredients. Someday I believe that enchanted apparatus will do the mystical work, and alchemy will simply become a skill accessible to all, such as baking. I wish I could live to see such advances.”

“I know,” said Jerric. “You could turn yourself into a lich. Not an evil one mind you, a nice one that doesn’t have to take time to eat or sleep and gets to read all of the books that folk will ever write.” Jerric watched Darnand carefully as he ran his fingers over the sword hilt, feeling for wear and damage.

Darnand’s voice was mild, but his face showed irritation. “All of my life I have been told I do not adequately express myself, I do not ‘communicate.’ Now you greet my most idle thought with suspicion.”

“Who told you that?”

“Women.” Darnand’s annoyance darkened into a scowl.

“You should get to a brothel, Darnand. A prostitute will never say that sort of thing to you. One word at a time is usually all they need to hear. Well, sometimes two.” Jerric looked down the blade, checking for nicks.

“Of course that is what I should want,” Darnand snapped. “A dead-eyed woman whose skin is a map of abuse to which she has agreed, perfumed to cover the smell of other men’s leavings. A prostitute would fill every empty corner of my soul.”

Jerric felt genuinely revolted. “I guess I never looked at it that way.”

“No doubt your whores are different.”

“No. I won’t bug you about it again, in jest or otherwise.” Jerric decided that Batul was likely to swear at him when he handed over the sword. Perhaps he should show her the shredded mail first, in a bid for sympathy.

Darnand was silent for a few moments. “I might have been overly judgmental.” He passed a hand over his forehead. “I am afraid that my sleep was not restful.”

“You were honest, and you don’t have to apologize for that. You can tell me anything. I can’t say I won’t tease you about it, but I’ll quit checking to see if you’re wearing a necromancer’s robe under your gown.” Jerric thought that restful sleep was likely part of the past, at least for awhile.

Darnand snorted. Jerric decided that for this morning, not frowning was as good as a smile.

This post has been edited by Grits: Aug 26 2011, 12:09 AM

[Acadian]

’Jerric knelt in a doorway high in the Sigil Keep, looking in at the pillar of fire. The livid, membranous floor told him he had reached the uppermost chamber. Two staircases with steps like severed claws arched up to meet on the next, open level. Above that, Jerric knew there would be two ramps to the final platform where the Sigil Stone hovered in its frame, powering the Gate.’
What a well-crafted opening! Like a superb appetizer. You provide plenty of answers while instilling a hunger to read more.

Well described deadly encounters up in the Sigil Keep.

’Darnand took the humming stone and handed Jerric a water skin.’
This struck me as what Jerric would consider a fair trade. Those Deadlands are so hot that I must agree.

I then promptly forgot about the Sigil stone and focused on the wonderful interactions outside the dead gate at the campsite. It took me rereading the passage where Darnand is describing the Sigil Stone a couple times to sort out what Darnand was talking about. At first, I thought he was trying to tell Jerric about some new fangled magic. Once I figured out he was talking about the Sigil Stone, I thought the description of its twin/alternate effects was extremely well put. The lead up, where Darnand is anxious to tell Jerric something, was just a tiny bit too subtle for this old paladin to clue on. For me, when Darnand was balancing his coffee and buiscuit would have been the time to perhaps having him turning the Sigil Stone in his hand instead so we would know what subject was coming. More likely my simple reading skills rather than your fine writing.

I loved the banter between Darnand and Jerric, especially in the latter parts of this episode.

This post has been edited by Acadian: Aug 25 2011, 01:54 AM

[Grits]

Acadian: Oops! I changed it to this:

Jerric watched Darnand for a moment while he chewed. He wondered where his friend had stashed the Sigil Stone. As anxious as he was to ask about it, he thought Darnand might be more impatient to tell him.

That was not supposed to be a mystery. I was so focused on explaining the enchantment, I forgot to mention the stone. Thank you so much for pointing that out!!