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

[haute ecole rider]

There are so many small touches in this post that I absolutely loved. So I'm going to single one out that has special meaning to me - Pottersville.

Having attempted throwing pottery on a wheel, and having worked with ceramics as a hobby during my high school years (we're talking decades ago!), I remain fascinated by anything to do with clay. Pottersville struck a chord with me since last year, for a story idea I was developing, I researched Choseon pottery (aka celadon pottery) - a method of creating some of the most beautiful ceramic pieces I've ever seen. It was a type of pottery created by old Korean craftsmen during the Choseon (Choson, Joseon) period (600 years!). Those craftsmen took the best of Chinese pottery and brought it to new heights. I have yet to see other types of pottery to rival the celadon pottery of Choseon Korea.

It was so valued in Korea that they had entire villages dedicated to pottery. In fact, one remains - Ichon
It remains a place where pottery is still made in the ancient tradition. Actually, as much as they can replicate it. Much of the technique was lost when the Japanese forced Korean potters to translocate to Japan to jump-start their pottery tradition. They even kidnapped entire villages of potters. When Korea became a Japanese colony (by force, not by will) in 1910, they suffered the loss of much of their cultural traditions. It wasn't until after the Korean conflict in the '50's that they started recovering what they had lost over forty years earlier.

So to see an echo of Ichon, a pottery village I had researched for one of my own stories, really makes this post personal for me. I look forward to Darnand visiting this place!

[Acadian]

I really enjoyed this conversation between the two fellas. Sniff, sniff. . . like SubRosa, do I perhaps smell a game side quest at Shetcombe Farm and even hints of talking to Daedric Shrines?

How the two men chose to identify Jesan speaks volumes that is consistent with the character of both of them.

So, Vigge’s gonna make Jerric into a Nordic Soul Gem? Kewl! Seriously, I like the ideas we see here in the differing stories on what is involved in recharging weaponry. I note with happiness that we all seem to take the approach of harnessing magicka from the dying rather than literally trapping souls.

A delightful read! Oh, and love Darnand’s GPS map!

This post has been edited by Acadian: Sep 21 2011, 05:29 PM

[mALX]

GAAAH! You are right, it was Sulinus Vassinus! I just heard the voice file and thought it was Viggie.

This whole chapter was outstanding, but two things really caught my attention over and above the rest: the conversation about the map, and Jerric's continued guilt over the killing of ghosts/zombies/liches, etc. The knee-jerk reaction when killing undead suddenly takes on a depth of thought I've never seen attributed to in any other Oblivion story - it is creative world building in its highest form (and at the same time shows a side of Jerric that is much deeper than his antics would have one think). That side of Jerric is rarely revealed, solid proof of the trusting friendship between himself and Darnand.

Your ability to develop complex characters and their relationships with others is amazing! (I can't find that "Swami/I'm not worthy" emoticon, or it would go here, lol) Awesome Write!

[ghastley]

Training Jerric to recharge is a neat idea. That's something that's illogically missing in the game. If all those NPC's can do it, why can't the player learn the skill?

The only other mechanism that makes sense is if the rechargers have a private stock of soul gems that they use, but then you'd expect them to buy and sell those. I'll have to ask Timo how he does it!

[King Coin]

Chapter 12.5
I think Darnand might have ruined brothels for Jerric. I’ll see in a bit it looks like.

we have a special that’s named after you.”

Jerric stared at her in horror.



Vigge just doesn’t sound normal. You portrayed him wrong! (kidding)

Oh there we go. That’s the Vigge everyone knows and… well not loves but you get the idea.

Chapter 12.6
Wow. I never considered ghosts. I suppose there were many violent and shocking ends that night.

------- looters! Typical. Just typical.

Awesome chapter. Your portrayal of Savlian is what I’ve imagined. That still didn’t keep Aravi from telling him that his count was lying face down in a pool of blood though. She had lots of adrenaline going through her at the time as you could imagine. He seems to have forgiven her for that.

Chapter 12.7 !!!
Neat explanation of the map we enjoy in game. Lol.

I hoped that Jerric wouldn’t go into the ruins after ghosts. I suspected that they were more than the blobs they are represented by in game. No wonder they ask strangers to go in to clear out the ghosts.

Good chapter as well.


Woohoo! Caught up!

[Kazaera]

I haven't been commenting much because it's all been so perfect and so moving that I've had trouble figuring out anything to say... er. >> I do like the magicka explanation, and I *love* Jerric's lateral thinking - if a map can pinpoint your position, can someone use it to locate you, and what does this mean for the security of the Blades?! Not something I ever thought of but it does make sense as a worry! And the ghosts. *weeps*

Also, the pottery village! It struck a chord with me too, but for a very different reason - there is actually a historic pottery village near my hometown (Fredelsloh) where the primary industry still seems to be pottery. I've been there a lot because there's a good day's cycling route that goes there, our favourite pottery shop doubles as a cafe and we get a lot of our cups, plates, teapots, and other ceramic goods from there. I am not a historian, but the way it was explained to me is that pottery villages arise because the ground near the village contains usable clay, meaning that it makes sense for the crafts that need it to cluster. So it made me smile to see one in Cyrodiil!

This post has been edited by Kazaera: Sep 22 2011, 02:42 PM

[Grits]

Folks: This pause in the story was brought to you by a pinched nerve. Argh! Getting better now.

SubRosa: Did you see the quest marker pop up when Darnand said “Shetcombe Farm”? I could swear I did when I wrote it. This quest has a big “what-the-heck” factor for me in the game.

haute ecole rider: I’m delighted that Pottersville struck such a chord. Hopefully you won’t be too disappointed that it’s Darnand who will be travelling through there. Jerric would probably spend two days chatting with everyone in town, but we’re with the tunnel-vision Breton this time. My inspiration was a somewhat local town where trade secrets are passed down through families. There are several glazes that are so distinctive, you know the potter’s surname immediately when you see it.

Acadian: Indeed, the road to Skingrad will be a rambling one! Thank you for pointing out how differently the two fellows described Jesan. I’m glad you enjoyed their conversation. I’m sure Darnand’s GPS will come in handy. Hopefully he won’t keep his eyes on the map and accidentally ride off the road!

mALX: Thank you for drawing attention to Jerric’s concerns about the ghosts, and the resulting conversation. This episode turned out to be one of my favorites, even though nothing new really happened. It’s because of what you pointed out, the friendship. There’s a look under the goofing off at one of the things that troubles both of them, and there’s no neatly tied up answer.

ghastley: I have a spell in mind that Adrienne Berene might use to fill magicka gems by capturing the release of another kind of energy, which would also explain some of the antics at the Skingrad guild. I think Timo would approve! I’m using soul gems as well, and I agree that the rechargers should sell them. Filling empty gems for the guild is a source of income you’ll see in the next update. I had it in before, but I’m pretty sure it got dumped in the edit.

King Coin: Woo hoo, you’re caught up!! I had one game character who mouthed off to Savlian. His reply really humbled her. I’m glad you liked the map, I had to give it to Darnand. He’s not Mr. Wilderness. Now Jerric knows he should stay away from the ghosts, but do you think he will?

Kazaera: I’m glad you liked Pottersville. The local clay deposits are exactly why a whole village is dedicated to one trade. Wholesalers would be drawn to the town more than to isolated potteries, and shared resources would help with start-ups. I am so thrilled that you mentioned Jerric’s lateral thinking with the map.

Where we are: Kvatch. Jerric has a list of spells to learn from Vigge the Cautious. While he’s busy, we’ll follow Darnand on his assignment from chapter head Sigrid to learn what’s going on with the Mages Guild supplier at Shetcombe Farm. I should mention that the note in this episode is borrowed directly from the game, but I did change one verb tense that bugged me.



Chapter 12: Return to Kvatch Part 8

Morning mist still lay in the hollows as Darnand and Banner turned away from the rising sun. The road around the base of the Kvatch plateau was wide and even with a dirt track on either side. They made good time past the carts and early foot traffic.

They slowed to a walk as they passed into a small community. The cliffs loomed up on the left. Tidy cottages lined both sides of the road. A few little dirt lanes wound between them, giving access to more homes behind, clustered thick as mushrooms. The smells of manure, compost, and a whiff of privies lay under a pall of wood smoke. Pottersville, Darnand decided.

They passed a bustling alley off to the right and then turned onto the parallel main street. Jerric had been correct. There was no way to mistake this town.

No building stood over a single story, and Darnand could make little sense of the hive of sheds, shops, and shelters he saw stretching all the way back to the alleys behind each street-front establishment. It was clear to him what he would find in the showrooms, however. Each shop displayed racks of finished wares on its covered porch, while the rooms stayed shuttered against the chill. Some seemed to specialize in specific ceramic items, while others offered a variety of goods in all the same glaze. One shop displayed kahve and tea pots in shapes from the mundane to the fantastic. For a moment Darnand thought that another purveyed only dinner plates for giants, until he realized that the samples must be made larger to show the intricately painted designs from the street.

The center of town boasted two taverns, a general store, and an inn at the crossroads. The side streets were lined with low buildings backing up to the potteries. Darnand knew it was the center of town, for he could see the end. He stopped to make a mark on his map. Further embellishment could wait for proper tools and a writing surface. Moments later he rode through another cluster of tiny houses and out of Pottersville.

Darnand glanced at his map to confirm his turn east along the farm lane. Some modest farm houses fronted the lane with their holdings behind them, while others lay in the distance at the end of their own rutted tracks. Darnand saw fallow fields, brown pastures, and few animals other than sheep. He rode until he spotted someone within hailing distance.

“Shetcombe Farm?” he called to a woman as she crossed her barnyard.

She carried a bucket in each hand, so she jerked her chin in the direction he was travelling.

Eventually he found a goose girl who was willing to chat.

“Old mer Seringi’s place,” she confirmed, smiling up at him. Her geese snapped at the grass along the lane’s edge. “He’s an odd one. I hope you have time to listen to his rantings. Man’s lies and deceit and reaping what we sow are all he wants to talk about. That’s funny, because he sows flax seeds. What else does he think he’s going to reap? You’ll find Shetcombe Farm at the end of a lane off that way to your right. It backs up to the old clay pits with the plateau up in the distance behind. There’s no marker, but the lane is as wide as this one and paved in stone for the ox carts. They don’t use those pits any more, but the road is still there. You can’t miss it.”

The girl smiled up at him some more, all blue eyes and freckles. She wore her blonde braids caught up into loops under her ears and tied with red ribbons. An Imperial, Darnand decided, with more than one Nord in her family. She carried a white painted shepherd’s staff decorated with more ribbons, and her bright blue cloak was embroidered with flowers a foot deep at the hem.

“I thank you,” said Darnand. He nudged Banner back into motion.

When they reached the empty road, he let Banner stretch his legs a little along the wide shoulder. Darnand was always at risk of riding past his destination, lost in his thoughts. The exhilarating pace kept him on task.

The small farmhouse beside the road had to be the Seringi place, Darnand decided. Dead leaves had drifted against the front door. Dry flower stalks stood unharvested in the fields. Darnand made Banner safe and comfortable in the empty corral before he approached the cottage.

The lock opened easily for his spell. The smells of stale food and recent mice greeted him as he stepped inside. “Hail the house,” he said, looking around the cottage’s single room.

Empty. Slythe Seringi clearly lived alone, had little interest in the decorative arts, and had not been home in some time. Darnand drifted automatically to the bookshelf.

Some time later he remembered his assignment. There was only one place in here that a man could sit and write.

“Oh good,” said Darnand, standing at the table. “A note.”

___

As midnight approaches, I still watch the fires burn. The great city of man, Kvatch, lies in ruins. They didn't heed my words. They didn't listen to my voice. Now, they are all paying the cost of ignorance. The Sunken One strikes swift and hard. He swats those who oppose Him as if they did not exist at all. The excuses of man fall upon deaf ears. The Sunken One has no pity; He has no mercy, He only sits below and passes sentence. And now, with a mighty stroke, He's toppled one of man's pitiful blights on His land. And yet, He still hungers. His appetite is voracious. Kvatch will not be the last city to fall by His hand. The world of man grows more and more corrupt, and it angers Him. Man's lies and deceit will be his undoing as The Sunken One grows impatient and no longer waits for or accepts the proper offering.

The burden is mine to shoulder. I am the last who knows of He Who Shakes The Ground. If I do not bring him the Offering, who knows what city may fall prey to his whim? Anvil? Chorrol? Or perhaps He will turn his eyes on the greatest boil of all, the great Imperial City itself. No, I must not let that happen. I must get the Offering to him like my father did before me. Man may be fallen in His eyes, but they must have time to learn The Sunken One's teachings. Destroying man now would be a waste, when I am certain that given the chance, they will come to see His ways. Yes, I will do this thing. I will brave the depths of Sandstone Cavern to see Him. My weapons will be my will and my word. The Sunken One will watch over me and guide me. I must depart soon, before it is too late. If anyone finds this page, let them know that I, Slythe Seringi, do this for the good of all man.

___

Darnand doubted that the mer’s deity was responsible for the destruction of Kvatch, or that Mehrunes Dagon had found harbor under a clay pit. Seringi’s absence indicated that his will and word must have been insufficient for his task. Perhaps he should have armed himself with wits, thought Darnand. He wondered if He Who Shakes the Ground had been the end of Seringi, or if the nature of the mer’s offering had proven fatal. Even if he had simply met an accident, it looked as if he had been gone too long to survive the wait for rescue.

Darnand considered his options. ‘He is not there’ would fulfill his commitment, but it sounded inadequate. Returning with help might be excessive if the mer had simply tripped and bumped his head. It seemed likely from his writing that he had bumped it at least once before. Darnand returned to the bookshelf. The hand-illustrated History of Pottersville, Tannertown, and the Hamlet of Trine penned by Seringi himself contained a discourse on local geology, he had already discovered. He found it on the shelf next to Seringi’s other work, Drains, Wells, and Cisterns: the Mysterious Waterways of the Kvatch Plateau.

“Right,” said Darnand, opening the book to a map. “Sandstone Cavern.”

This post has been edited by Grits: Sep 29 2011, 12:33 AM

[SubRosa]

So we are off to Harry Pottersville. Here is the obligatory song to listen to while visiting the place.

You paint a vivid picture of the little pottery settlement, and its freckled inhabitants. I could not help but to think of Little Bo Peep when you described her!

Darnand drifted automatically to the bookshelf.
Some time later he remembered his assignment.
This is our Breton alright! Jerric might stop to chat up everyone in Pottersville, but Darnand will stop to read every book!

So now Darnand is off to Sandstone Cavern. His motivations are solid. As he ruminated, just going back and saying "sorry, he wasn't home." would really be weak. Of course at this point, Darn really does not know what he is getting himself into.



nits:
The world of man grows more and more corrupt
Usually people capitalize Man when they mean to refer to the human race. Or at least all the males, since obviously the existence of us women is not worth acknowledging. Sorry, don't mean to get preachy with you. ES is full of of Man, not to mention the Real World, so it is completely appropriate. It is just one of my pet peeves.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Oct 2 2011, 10:27 PM

[haute ecole rider]

Ooh, I loved the ride out to Pottersville! And it really is as I imagined it would be. (Here we go again with more proof that great minds think alike.) I'm surprised that Darnand was able to notice so much of our local friendly goose girl!

As for the usage of Man in Slythe's note, well, he is a mer, and not a politically correct one at that, either. So I just let the "Man" in his note slide as the ranting of an addled bigot. Darnand may be more right than he knows in his thinking that Slythe had bumped his head before. Probably when he was reaping what he sowed?

I remember the first time I played this quest - I honestly had no idea what I was getting into. That first imp made me jump! Then the whole dungeon was just creeeeepy as 'blivion. Brrgh!

SGM!

[Acadian]

What a beautiful picture of Potterstown you paint. Oh, and the goose girl was a delight that I’m glad you lingered to detail us with.

’Darnand was always at risk of riding past his destination, lost in his thoughts.’
How very Darnand! And, . . . I can identify with the sentiment.

’Seringi’s absence indicated that his will and word must have been insufficient for his task.’
Another fabulous observation that fully incorporates Darnand’s style of thinking.

I loved the creativity you put into the books quilled by the cabin’s owner.

Just a delightful episode!

[ghastley]

...the samples must be made larger to show the intricately painted designs from the street.

Now that's got me searching the internet for where I've seen them IRL. Great detail!

Methinks Darnand's Daedroth might not be enough for what he's about to face. (Has he named it yet?)

[mALX]

Grits, I'm not up to reading right now. (spent mostly all of yesterday in the hospital ER). "I'll be back" (said in an "Arnold" voice) to read this when I feel good enough to appreciate your work. (sorry).

[King Coin]

Pottersville sounds like an interesting place. I kind of want to go there now. You say it’s outside of Kvatch? Too bad Aravi’s too busy to go look for it. Lol.

Zoning out on the road just sounds like a bad idea, especially with the number of bandits around. I’m glad Darnand was able to stay on task.

I’ve forgotten what lies below Sandstone Cave. Rather than looking at the wiki, I’ll let it be a surprise.

I found Darnand’s casual dismissal of Seringi pretty funny. Sounds like what I would think.

Good chapter!

[mALX]

I love your lead-in to one of my favorite side quests. My character usually does it early and uses the house till she can afford one of her own, lol. Awesome Write !!

[Grits]

SubRosa: Yay, Counting Crows! I was thinking of Rosie Cotton dancing with ribbons in her hair. The note comes straight from the game, I forgot to acknowledge it. (Oops.) I took Slythe’s capitalizations as an effort to show that his Offering and his Sunken One were holy, and capitalizing man there would cloud the issue. I also took man in Slythe’s context to mean the gender-inclusive humanity or mankind, as opposed to all mortals or just elfkind. I see your point, though. If it were my note, I would have written it differently.

haute ecole rider: Darnand has the tendency to hyper-focus that makes people so fun to prank. I doubt if he would have noticed her at all if he wasn’t looking for someone to ask directions. Of course his reaction to the cute, friendly girl was see-ya-bye! Thank you for the SGM, I’m honored!

Acadian: I’m glad you liked the goose girl. I wanted to show that even in the shadow of Kvatch, some girls still tie ribbons in their hair. Thank you for noticing that Darnand-flavored thought. It is not easy for me to set Jerric aside (he’s loud!) and hear things the way Darnand thinks them. Slythe just had to have some of his own literary offerings on his shelf. He was such a dedicated journal writer, even as he lay dying.

ghastley: No name for Darnand’s daedroth. He might call it “Nightmare-Creature-of-Awesome-Power-That-is-Mine-All-Mine-To-Control-Mwa-Ha-Ha,” but not in front of other people. I can’t place those big plates in the real world, either, but I know I must have seen them somewhere!

mALX: I’m the same way, I’m sure at least one of my characters still has a pile of stuff on the floor at Shetcombe Farm. I think this was the first side quest I ever did. I was confused throughout!

King Coin: Maybe there will be a Pottersville in Skyrim. If you ever hear about a guy riding his horse off a cliff, it might be Darnand. Yep, he knows too much about the daedric invasion to think that some flax farmer could have been the key to saving the world. (Instead it’s some priest of Akatosh? Good thing Jauffre didn’t have to convince Darnand to go fetch the heir for him.)

Where we are: Darnand is unraveling the mystery of the missing flax seeds at Shetcombe Farm. Slythe’s second note is lifted from the game, but I have taken some liberties with the third one. (Which appears in the episode after this one.)



Chapter 12: Return to Kvatch Part 9

Darnand walked through the dry grass toward the rocky outcrop that should conceal the entrance to Sandstone Cavern. He glanced over his shoulder at the Kvatch plateau to check his course. Seringi watched the city burn from here, he realized. The screams would not have carried this far. He turned his thoughts away quickly, but a chill already crept through his belly.

He ran his preparations through his mind, touching each piece of equipment to reassure himself. The walking stick rode across his back, strapped over his chest and fastened with the knot Jerric had shown him. One tug would loosen it, and he could have the stick in a defensive position with a single practiced motion. The walking stick itself had been the smallest part of Jerric’s Saturalia gift. Training sessions with Huurwen of the Fighters Guild had begun on the day after Saturalia. She taught him to block with the staff as well as one striking technique to use on Jerric as a prank. The surprise worked. Darnand split Jerric’s lip open the next time they practiced his blocking. Darnand was horrified, but Jerric roared with laughter. It was difficult for Darnand to tell if his friend had retaliated, since the Nord's version of light contact already left Darnand decorated with welts and bruises. Jerric told him that the pain made him stronger, so he was reluctant to heal it away. Of course, that could easily be another one of Jerric’s jests.

A satchel rested on his hip, also slung across a shoulder. Darnand slipped a hand under the flap to check the contents. Empty soul gems, a few healing and dispel potions, waxed parchment and empty pouches for alchemy ingredients, a water skin, and one of the sandwiches that Jerric had tucked into his saddlebag this morning. His fingers found the map, scrolls, charcoal pencil, ink stick, brush, and cheap paper in the writing compartment. No books today. He felt vaguely unsettled without even one.

Lastly, Darnand checked the blanket he wore folded at his back, tucked under his belt. If he found remains, Seringi could travel back to the farm wrapped in his own blanket.

The ground dropped away in front of the outcrop, forming a wide, low cavern. The ruins of a wooden wall with a broken door were visible at the back. Someone had sealed it off once. Darnand moved his walking stick to his hand as he began to descend the slope. It would be foolish to tumble down the hill with it still on his back. But not unprecedented, he had to admit.

He stopped beside a bush and crouched down to observe the area, as Lildereth had taught him. A light wind ruffled the dry grass and hissed through the widely spaced fir trees. Birds chirped in the shrubbery to his rear, informing him that no enemy crept up behind him. Darnand began to feel silly, huddled down in the grass on a fine winter morning.

Motion caught his eye at the front of the cavern. A gray creature winged out of the shadows to land on the rocky ground. Something chittered, and the creature replied with a high, squeaky trill.

Imps. Now Darnand could see that some of the rocks were imps, warming themselves in the morning sun. His life detection spell showed him more still roosting near the cavern’s ceiling. There were enough imps down there to fill his empty soul gems with magicka, he estimated.

But too many to tackle on his own. His stars gave him a great well of magicka, but even with his natural resistance and the ring Jerric had enchanted for him, he was still vulnerable to magical attacks. If they swarmed him, he wouldn’t be able to escape. Darnand cast the spell to make himself invisible and walked slowly down to the cavern.

The breeze hid his progress through the grass, and the stick helped him step lightly. Within moments Darnand eased through the broken door into the cave, nervous sweat prickling his palms and armpits.

A passageway had been cut into the stone. Darnand took several steps into shadow before he cast the spell to let him see in the dark. The passage led straight ahead at a downward angle. Faint pink glows moving in the distance told him that a chamber lay before him, and he was not alone. In a few more steps he could tell that the creatures were rats.

Darnand knelt in the corridor, bringing spells to the front of his mind. Rats could jump and bite, but they died quickly. This was an excellent opportunity to practice a touch spell at minimal risk to his person. He would cast the soul trap spell with his left hand from a distance, then reach out and absorb the rats’ life energy into his own with a touch from his right hand. He would keep his walking stick ready in his left hand, in case something went amiss.

The chamber appeared to be a natural cavern. Tree roots hung down from the ceiling like great dangling snakes. The floor was level, but broken with jutting rocks and rubble. Darnand moved into a place where he thought the formations would naturally funnel the rats toward him. Then he cast his first spell.

The plan worked. Before he could think again, Darnand had power thrumming through the gems in his satchel, a new gouge on his walking stick, and a hand sticky with sweat and rat hair. He took a deep breath and searched the chamber.

The remains of wooden crates, burned out torches, and a fire pit indicated some past use. Smugglers, Darnand guessed. Serinigi’s history of the region told of traffic between Valenwood, Elsweyr, and Hammerfell. Two corridors opened out of the cavern in addition to the one that led back to the surface. One was thick with spider webs. The other looked clear. Darnand moved into the cleaner passageway. He doubted that Seringi had passed through the webs.

The corridor changed direction and elevation, but it led unbranching to a closed wooden door. Darnand watched more pink glows move on the other side, in what had to be a chamber.

Wolves, he guessed, or dogs. The door must keep them from eating the rats he found near the entrance. It might protect him if he had to flee. He had no hope of sneaking invisibly past wolves, they would smell him. Their fangs would tear through his flesh like a spoon through pudding. Darnand reached for his Breton’s shield power. The Dragon Skin slipped over his own with a flicker across his vision. His scamp might draw more wolves to attack it than his dry skeleton would. His fire spells should frighten them. But first he would cast the spell to trap their energies.

He hoped he would have enough magicka. Summoning a daedroth in panic was not an option any more. Darnand readied his spells as he reached for the door.

Something made him pause. Lildereth. Thinking too much like Jerric could get him killed before midday. Another plan came to his mind.

Five wolves turned their snouts toward Darnand when he stepped through the door. Two immediately started for him, growling. Darnand cast the spell that would make them turn on each other, first at the closest wolf, then at one near the middle of the chamber. He had plenty of time to cast the soul trap spell on each of them during the snarling, yelping fight. One small flare finished the survivor where it staggered on three legs, bleeding from its throat. Darnand leaned on the door frame for a moment, letting his heart slow down again.

This cavern was finished as a room, crude but snug. Light beamed down from an opening in the ceiling onto a fire pit against one wall. Book shelves and cabinets lined another. Two long tables stood to one side, each with a chair. The wolves had been sleeping under the narrow bed. Bones and shreds of carpeting littered the floor. Darnand stepped carefully around the bodies as he searched the room. Between the rats and the wolves, he began to wonder if anything remained of Slythe Seringi.

The shelves were empty and crusted with a century’s worth or more of dust. One table had been swept clear, and one chest looked as if it had been used recently. The lid fell off as he opened it. Inside he found a neatly folded paper.

A page intended for my journal, written this 15 of Hearthfire 433
by Slythe Seringi

As I descend into the depths of Sandstone Cavern, I wonder to myself... why? Why does The Sunken One test me so? Have I not been loyal? Have I not spread His word? Have I not obeyed His laws? This journey has been cruel and unfair. I've nearly met my end more than once. I don't know if I can make it to His home. But no, I cannot think this way! I must get there! I must see Him. If I do not, then the world of man is doomed. I dare not tarry longer, as I do not wish to suffer His wrath. I must get the Offering to Him.

Darnand tucked the page into his bag for Sigrid. Three months and twenty days had passed since Seringi had quilled it. The ashes in the fire pit looked like they could be that recent, Seringi must have rested here after his own struggle with the cave’s wildlife. Darnand guessed that the chamber’s original occupant had been a mage. He knew a wizard’s lair when he saw one. This place would tempt him, if not for the imps. The wolves had to get in a different way, he realized. Perhaps there is a side entrance.

Another passage opened out of the room, and this one’s door hung askew. Darnand reached for his water before he moved on. His Dragon Skin would not last very long, and he did not want to leave the cave before he found Seringi. His magicka returned faster than most mages,’ but it would not be fully restored until after his Dragon Skin had faded. He would have his shield or more magicka before he faced danger again, but not both. Darnand took a drink as he considered the implications.

A sour taste filled his mouth, and the water burned up his nose as he choked on it. Not water, he realized, coughing. A potion. He felt magicka welling up inside him like honey from a comb.

This was Jerric’s doing. He must have mentioned it this morning when they packed the saddlebags. Darnand remembered Jerric speaking earnestly about mustard before his attention strayed. His friend had slept only a few hours, all of them badly. Jerric walked Darnand down to the stables before dawn, he claimed to check on the horses. Darnand suspected that he did not want to return to his dreams with no one there to wake him.

Another sip should be enough, Darnand estimated. How fortunate that he grabbed this water skin from the saddlebag instead of the one with water in it. Everything about Jerric’s potion making put Darnand on edge. The casual estimates instead of measuring, the fine instruments in his rough hands, his careless technique. Most annoying was his use of unlabeled, unapproved containers. Darnand smiled as he tucked the bag away. Thank the Nine for Jerric.





This post has been edited by Grits: Oct 5 2011, 09:29 PM

[King Coin]

Darnand is a much more careful person than Jerric is, which is to be expected. I don’t remember you mentioning Jerric running though a mental checklist before entering some strange place. Darnand on the other hand does it. And he’s being extra careful because he’s alone when he’s used to Jerric around to help pull his *** out of the fire.

Oh wow Jerric gave him a sandwich? I’m… speechless.

No book?

Darnand is going to be fun to play in Skyrim with the two hand casting!

I like how he’s forcing himself to think like Lilfereth. Jerric has the brawn to just wade into situations, Darnand does not.

Most annoying was his use of unlabeled, unapproved containers. Darnand smiled as he tucked the bag away. Thank the Nine for Jerric.
I loved the whole paragraph but this is such a great way to end the section.

[ghastley]

Everything about Jerric’s potion making put Darnand on edge. The casual estimates instead of measuring, the fine instruments in his rough hands, his careless technique.

Why does this remind me of cookery?

Nit:
...waxed parchment and empty pouches for alchemy ingredients, a water skin, and one of the sandwiches...

How fortunate that he grabbed this water skin from his pack instead of the one with water in it.

Continuity problem. He's got only one water skin going in, and more than one when he drinks.

[SubRosa]

Jerric told him that the pain made him stronger, so he was reluctant to heal it away. Of course, that could easily be another one of Jerric’s jests.
That does sound like a Nord, either seriously or in jest!

No books today. He felt vaguely unsettled without even one.
Oh noes!

Tree roots hung down from the ceiling like great dangling snakes.
A nice description. I usually think of tentacles. But that is probably from too much Cthulhu Mythos...

Wolves in a cave? I know that is standard in the game, but you might want to rethink that, and replace them with more imps. How did wolves get in there, through a closed door, with a pack of imps at the entrance? Even if there is a side entrance they might have used, why would they bother in the first place? Wolves are not subterranean creatures. If they were under the command of a vampire, or other such beastie that can enthrall them, then it would work.

[Acadian]

This was wonderful! Gosh, you do Darnand so well! The true absent minded academic. Too interested in ‘why’ and overanalyzing and filling his soul gems sometimes to focus on his self preservation; while at the same time he, no doubt, considers Jerric reckless! Thank the Nine for Lildereth and her obvious ability to teach both these fellows a couple things.

How very like Darnand to use a checklist before entering a dungeon, then lamenting that his satchel contains no books (although he is well stocked with writing material at least).

I absolutely loved the image you painted of the imps sunning themselves in the winter morning sun. Gotta warm those little wings up!

[mALX]

I loved the second paragraph - Darnand's inner dialogue about his trainings with Jerric was hilarious and telling about each. In itself it continues to show the deep and close friendship the two have and the differences in their personalities.

I don't like the idea of Darnand taking on this cavern alone, it smacks of a tragic ending for Darnand - something I don't want to see happen! ARGH !!! Jerric's potion slid into the water bag was ingenious. (his urgent ramblings about mustard had me laughing, lol).

I agree with KC, Darnand's trying to think like Lildereth instead of Jerric is a good thing - he does not have the bulk required to charge in and take prisoners.

Awesome Write!! (tension building and leaving the chapter on a subtle cliffhanger, though) !!!