I added a screenshot of
Abiene in Chorrol to the last episode.
Thomas Kaira: Indeed, this Breton is about as far removed from the Wrothgarian Mountains as one can be. She can’t be there to coddle her friends, so she’s bossing them around from afar. Thank you for your kind words about her! Abiene is just missing her man, and upset that she doesn’t know what to write to him. Plus she’s seen what the next few years look like for her, and it will be a far cry from her life in Anvil. Add that to the cold climate and a serious endorphin withdrawal, and you get one unhappy Abiene.
Acadian: Thank you, Acadian! I felt like I should have introduced her with,
Meanwhile, up north in Chorrol… In her own words is exactly right. I had to wait for it, but then she just took over. Thank you for noticing her differing tones as she coaxed, cajoled, and scolded her loved ones in her own way. It warms my heart that you find her endearing.
SubRosa: Yes, Abiene has given up her cushy job with the Mages Guild, but not her membership. Moving to Chorrol to learn surgery and medicine was a major decision for her, and a big risk. Carahil gave Abiene her personal recommendation, but I didn’t mean to give the Mages Guild any pull with the chapel. I got the idea for a Healers Guild from the Heavy Armor skill book
Fighters Guild History, 1st Ed.. “In the 321st year of the 2nd Era, the Potentate gave his approval to the Guilds Act, officially sanctioning the Mages, together with the Guilds of Tinkers, Cobblers, Prostitutes, Scribes, Architects, Brewers, Vintners, Weavers, Ratcatchers, Furriers, Cooks, Astrologers, Healers, Tailors, Minstrals [sic], Barristers, and the Syffim.“ Of course I read this long after I started my story. My idea is that the Healers Guild could have been assimilated into the Mages Guild at some point, explaining why no one has mentioned it in the story.

My thinking was exactly what you pointed out, the healers would be in competition with the MG and the chapels. Thank you, SubRosa!
mALX: I’m sorry! I do feel bad about leaving Darnand on the cliff, but not bad enough to cross Abiene when she’s being forceful. Sidette’s tea is for birth control, but it will also help with her period problems. I didn’t know how to make it clear without spelling it out, which Abiene would not do. Ilonea would know exactly what Abiene’s “own blend” was for. She was telling Ilonea that Sidette had not announced that she was sleeping with anyone, but Abiene took it upon herself to provide some of her own precautionary measures to her sister. Her thinking is that at age twenty and still unmarried, Sidette should be prepared. Also since she can’t be there to look after people, she sometimes feels the need to boss them around. You’re right, Abiene could easily write the kind of letter that would cause a situation in Jerric’s pants, but that would be pretty risky.

Thank you, mALX!
King Coin: A cell, exactly, Abiene has gone from luxury at the guild hall to novice quarters at the chapel with no windows and
no fireplace! She’s also gone from making a good living to being a student again. She does get to use the chapel’s facilities, though. I did have that beautiful Chorrol MG library style in mind for the chapel as well. Ilonea is the Metonne’s housekeeper who practically raised Abiene. She’s mentioned in
Jerric’s Story, but she appears in person in
Home for the Holidays. You’re exactly right about Abiene’s sisterly jealousy when she imagines Sidette fawning over Darnand. Even though she tells herself she’s not interested in him anymore, the claws are out.
TheBrume: Hello, and welcome! Thank you for the compliments. I’m glad you’re enjoying the story. I’m also very glad that you’re posting your own story here!
Where we are: Darnand is searching for Slythe Seringi in the depths of Sandstone Cavern.
Chapter 12: Return to Kvatch Part 10Darnand made his way cautiously through the chambers and tunnels of Sandstone Cavern. Many seemed to have been carved through the rock by streams of water, long gone. He found the wolves’ entrance through a fissure in the rock. Daylight shone down, though he could not see the sky. He would have to scrabble through dirt on his hands and knees to use that exit, but there was plenty of room for him to pass. Wolves were considerably larger than Bretons.
The cave’s rats filled his soul gems with their dying energy, and the giant spiders skittered away from his flares. He discovered several side passageways, but all contained the ubiquitous webs. Even after months, Serinigi’s path seemed fairly obvious. Until he reached a cavern that was devoid of any sign of life.
Darnand felt his magicka returning as he searched the chamber for Seringi. After the abundant cave life above, it was odd that no creatures had made their home here. Even the empty caves had held bones, dried dung, and the shreds of nesting material. This cavern seemed sterile by comparison. He began to think that He Who Shakes the Ground might be a real entity.
The next corridor led down to a high-ceilinged chamber with a canyon running through the middle. Darnand found himself standing at one end checking for glowing signs of life on the ledges above. A few steps showed him that the chasm reached a dead end against the far wall of rock. A bundle of cloth on the ground caught his eye.
The body’s small, pointed ears and average frame indicated that this had probably been a Dunmer. When Darnand saw the words scrawled on the rock next to the body, he decided that this was definitely Seringi. The mer had finished his journal in his own blood even as he lay dying.
I am fallen.
I have failed.
All hope is lost.
A rough sack rested next to the body. The Offering, Darnand guessed. His dismissive thoughts about Seringi’s dedication now seemed disrespectful. Here lay a mer who had sacrificed himself to save others, Darnand included. That his death resulted from delusions made it sad, but no less noble. He tugged the blanket free of his belt.
A dull thud echoed down the passageway, followed by another. Darnand froze. More impacts followed, slowly approaching along the passageway through which Darnand had entered. Now he could hear a sharp crack with each one, like boulders striking together. There was no doubt, this had to be He Who Shakes the Ground. Darnand dropped the blanket and cast his invisibility spell.
His muscles felt rigid, but his thoughts flew. He should be safe while he remained invisible. His jump spell would get him up out of this narrow canyon, but he had no idea if he would find an exit beyond those ledges. He might be able to slip past the Sunken One without it noticing him. That was a better plan. From the echoes it seemed that the creature had almost reached the canyon’s entrance. Darnand stooped down and picked up his walking stick.
His arm shimmered into view as he rose, and the rest of him followed. A furious, trumpeting cry split the air.
Oh, sixteen hells, thought Darnand.
The far end of the canyon was now blocked by a being comprised of floating boulders revolving around an insubstantial center. It resolved into a bipedal shape and then dissolved into swirling rocks again. Shock energy crackled over its entirety. Each stone was at least the size of Darnand’s torso. A quiet part of his mind observed that the Sunken One was in fact a storm atronach.
The atronach spread its arms out to the sides, then brought them together with a crash. Darnand dropped flat on his chest next to Seringi as a mass of lightning bolts passed over him. Every hair on his body stood on end. He cast his panic spell as he scrambled back against the canyon’s dead end. Two more of the atronach’s steps shook the ground before Darnand’s view was blocked by his summoned daedroth.
The atronach trumpeted a challenge, answered immediately by the daedroth’s roar. It great tail thrashed against the chasm’s walls as it shook its shield spell down over itself. Darnand was grateful that it had lurched into this realm facing away from him. He found that he was cringing against the wall on his backside with his knees up, hands clamped over his ears.
The massive daedra came together with a crash and a roar. The daedroth reeled sideways into the wall, scattering Slythe’s body into pieces under its churning feet. Darnand caught a glimpse of the flailing storm atronach beyond it. Slipping past the fight was not an option. Darnand took a gulp of Jerric’s potion and brought his illegal spell to the front of his mind. He snatched up the walking stick and kicked off hard from the ground as he cast the jump spell. Another bolt of shock energy passed under his feet and cracked against the wall. It sees me, Darnand realized. He scrambled against the rock lip, clawing himself over the edge and onto a flat area. Another lightning bolt hit the cave ceiling, sending a shower of rock down somewhere beyond Darnand’s sight.
He glanced back down in time to see the daedroth backhand the storm atronach and send a blast of fire breath into it. Good enough for now, he thought, rolling away from the edge.
Darnand hadn’t seen any life signs when he scanned these upper areas. He secured the walking stick across his back as he eased along the ledge. The noise from below deafened him. More corridors were visible at this level on both sides of the canyon, but he couldn’t be sure where they would lead. Darnand decided to drop behind the battling daedra and flee the way he came in. His jump and vision spells were still active, and thanks to Jerric’s potion, his magicka was returning at an encouraging rate.
Darnand jumped down behind the atronach just as it loosed another shock spell at the daedroth. The daedroth’s howl covered the sound of his awkward landing. It had been difficult to practice a spell that he was not supposed to know.
As he straightened in the tunnel’s entrance, Darnand realized that the chamber was suddenly quiet. He turned to look back down the canyon. The atronach stood alone. Its rocks began to rotate as Darnand watched, horrified. It resolved back into its form facing in his direction.
Darnand ran.
Halfway up the tunnel, he cast his invisibility spell. He summoned his scamp as he reached the middle of the next chamber, cursing as the action caused him to flicker back into view. The thundering steps behind him paused long enough for the scamp’s dying shriek.
Darnand’s pace was too frantic to attempt any fortifying spells. He didn’t have the magicka to bring back his daedroth yet. Darnand cast invisibility again as he pelted up another tunnel. But this time he took a giant gulp of potion first.
The next chamber had plenty of cover. Darnand slid to his knees behind a rock. His throat burned as he gasped for breath.
The storm atronach’s progress through the tunnel was alarmingly fast, but comfortingly noisy. He ran through the spells he wanted to test for Jerric. A spell to give his target a weakness to magicka followed by a spell to weaken it to fire should result in an increase of both the fire weakness spell’s potency and the strength of any fire attack that followed.
The daedra thundered to a halt a dozen paces from Darnand’s position. He decided that casting three complicated spells while under close-quarters attack from a storm atronach was folly on the magnitude of sparring with a daedroth. He waited until the potion restored his magicka, then he gathered his legs under him.
Darnand cast the spell to bring his daedroth back from the Void, then turned and bolted while the daedra were still challenging one another. He remembered the spell to fortify his speed as he ran, but he had to pause in order to cast it. Before long his labored breathing drowned out the sounds of battle behind him. His feet took him unerringly to the wolf entrance.
He dropped to his knees in the opening, casting restorative spells as quickly as his magicka allowed. He strained to hear any sound of pursuit. After a few moments, the shaking eased along with the cramp in his side. Scrambling up the dirt tunnel might bring the whole thing down on him if he was not careful, but he did not want to escape a storm atronach only to get swarmed by imps. He took another swig of Jerric’s potion. Relief trickled in with the magicka.
Darnand began to wonder at the storm atronach’s nature. Could it have been summoned long ago by some wizard who lost control of it? Where did it get the energy necessary to sustain itself? Had Slythe himself summoned it so that it would take his Offering? Perhaps it only appeared when a mortal entered its lair. Yet the absence of wildlife suggested a persistent presence.
A summoned atronach would not become a corpse. One that had somehow bodily entered this realm would leave remains.
Darnand dried his sweaty hands and pushed himself to his feet in the corridor. Many rituals involved purification with a solution of void salts. They were rare and extremely difficult to procure without arousing suspicion. It would also be prudent to put Seringi’s remains to rest.
No sounds reached him from the depths of the cavern. He fixed his daedroth in his mind and stepped carefully back down the passageway.
___
(Here’s a Darnand’s-eye view of the
daedroth vs. storm atronach battle.)
This post has been edited by Grits: Oct 14 2011, 02:28 AM