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

[Acadian]

It was fun with the two fellows and their four footed girl, talking about the pointy eared one.

You do the banter between them all very well – even when Lildereth is not there, she is. I like that her magic seems different.

Interesting stuff about the stones.

I can see Jerric’s concern about blabbing in his sleep.

So, is Meridia’s shrine on the menu? That could portend some black-robed trouble – that Darnand would no doubt find irresistibly fascinating.

This post has been edited by Acadian: Oct 28 2011, 01:42 AM

[King Coin]

Lildereth deadly as usual and quiet for a change. Maybe that’s just because Jerric and Darnand were too busy to tease.

I like Darnand’s comments. ‘Stop breathing so I can write neatly.’

Lol. Darnand and his map getting intolerable?

Hey I agree with Jerric. Whatever her reasons, I’m happy Lildereth has stayed. I AM very curious about why she’s skittish. Is there something about this area that she knows, or is Jerric correct in his assumption? We will see.

Jerric’s got dreams that rival Aravi’s. I wonder if she’sanything like Jerric is in her sleep?

Darnand’s eyes were round. “It makes you smarter.”
I have to agree!

Theories to discuss? Maybe even test? Can’t wait!

[Thomas Kaira]

“The next time you verify its accuracy when she’s showing you something, she’s going to stick the map up your backside. I hope that thought comforts you while you’re extracting it.”

Sounds like my kinda gal!

Many interesting musings on Cyrodiil's standing stones here. You succeeded quite well in adding an air of mystery to something so familiar as a Doomstone. I anxiously await what Darnand might make of it.

And Jerric has become an intelligent Nord! An oxymoron if ever there was one. Now he can bash drunkards' heads in while explaining the Periodicals of Mystic Thaumaturgy or Ganton's Second Law of Destitute Construction or something. No one will ever be able to tell if they fell unconscious to the fists, or just fell asleep from the lectures.

Look out world!

This post has been edited by Thomas Kaira: Oct 28 2011, 04:47 AM

[RainbowVeins]

I'm finally caught up, and still enjoying the story just as immensely as I was after the first two entries. I can't even quote any specific lines here. The descriptions and dialogues in particular, are masterfully written. Looking forward to more!

[Grits]

SubRosa: The guys probably had Ayleid flesh gardens or daedric cults on their minds when they came up with sacrifices. I doubt that Jeelius was the first mortal to find himself bound on an altar in Cyrodiil. Too bad Abiene wasn’t there. She might have had a different idea for fun with chains.

mALX: I know I could use 120 seconds of enhanced brain every day, LOL. I would have to use them all up deciding which child is pulling one over on me this time. I’m glad you mentioned Lildereth’s and Darnand’s caution with the unfamiliar magic. I think most people would have more concerns than Jerric in that situation.

Acadian: And now we know that Lildereth does not have any repulsive habits, because that’s the first thing the fellas would have talked about! We’ll have to see if the black robes have a picture of Darnand on their recruiting posters.

King Coin: Darnand with his magic map is as insufferable as someone with a new iPhone! If Aravi’s anything like Jerric in her sleep, it’s no wonder that Vilja spends half the night downstairs drinking with the orcs.

Thomas Kaira: Jerric will have to drink a little more ale to even out the effects when he’s been using his Arcane Well. He has a reputation to uphold!

RainbowVeins: Woo hoo, you made it! I’m glad you’re still enjoying the story. Dialog and descriptions are my favorite parts to write. Here’s some more!


Where we are: Jerric, Darnand, Lildereth, Ulfe, and the horses are on their way to Skingrad, eventually. Next stop: the Shrine of Meridia.





Chapter 13: Skingrad, Part 2

Hills rose steep and close together on the northern edge of the West Weald, each one obscuring the view of what lay beyond it. Between the towering boulders and clusters of hundred foot trees, Jerric began to feel a little closed in. The terrain forced a slow pace, so he often dismounted to climb the hills on his own legs. Darnand’s horse seemed irritable. Jerric would also like a good run.

They had been searching for the Shrine of Meridia for most of the morning when they crossed the trail. Many folk on foot and horseback had passed this way recently. Lildereth examined the ground for a few moments before she glanced back at them. “We won’t be alone,” she said.

Jerric could smell the smoke before they saw it. At the top of a rise they found themselves looking down into a hanging valley. Boulders ringed the far side with trees growing thick behind. The ground dropped away below the trees. A tall statue stood in front of the boulders, facing the valley and concealed from behind by the trees. The figure appeared to be a gowned woman, standing with her arms raised and one bare leg forward, Jerric guessed about seventy feet high. He decided that must be the shrine.

White smoke hung thick in the valley over a chaotic encampment. Tents, tethered animals, campfires, and hundreds of people were clustered and scattered without any sense of order. The ground rose near the shrine. No one had set up their camp on that side. This is a holy place for them, Jerric realized.

“They’re burning green wood!” Lildereth fumed. “Who knows how they’re cutting it! Look, that woman is dragging a whole sapling! Mudin-ta! Wasters! Where are the foresters?”

“I don’t think we’re in the Imperial Reserve here,” said Jerric. “I guess this would be County Skingrad’s jurisdiction. Not much between here and the border with County Chorrol, though. Makes it a good spot for folk who don’t want to be bothered by the law.”

“I can smell the privies,” said Darnand.

“Probably a trench latrine,” said Jerric. “Gods, look at all the folk. What do they want to talk to Meridia for? What does Meridia even do?”

Darnand shot him a look. “Getting nervous?”

“Yeah. I just want one more meeting, then I’ll have my fill of gods and princes. I guess I’d rather let you two go talk to this one. I’ll see if I can uncover any crimes against the trees.”

Lildereth turned on him so quickly that her braid whipped over her shoulder. “A being that doesn’t hump and howl and fight has less value, is that what you’re saying? How many generations of round-ears come and go in the natural span of one of those firs? When their lives are cut short to warm up some Imperial’s greasy gray soup, how are you not outraged? What if it was your young feeding these fires?” She stopped herself with a gasp.

Jerric didn’t know what to say. Lildereth stood frozen with tears in her eyes.

“Let us seek out whoever is in charge of this mess,” Darnand said quietly. “Lildereth, will you accompany me to the shrine? Jerric, perhaps you would stay with the horses.”

“Yeah,” said Jerric. “I’ll head over under that ridge. Look for us at the edge of the camp. We’ll want to go uphill for our water. Ulfe, with me.”

Jerric rode slowly around the camp’s perimeter, leading Banner and Flash. Ulfe stayed close, ignoring the lesser dogs that came sniffing past. Most of the tents were simple, open-sided shelters that could be carried on a person’s back. Some folk had come in carts and wagons, and their accommodations looked more comfortable. Jerric saw people of all races, but the only children seemed to be working. Several moved between the nearby tents hawking skewers of cooked meat, some kind of bottled drink, and even bundles of the fresh-cut wood that had incensed Lildereth.

Jerric called down to a Khajiit lad bearing a bulging shoulder sack. “What are you selling?”

“Bone meal, ectoplasm, zombie flesh, anything you need. What’ll it be for you, m’lord?”

Jerric got a bad feeling. “What do I need those things for? Other than a burial.”

The lad’s golden eyes opened wide as only a Khajiit’s could. “Why, for your offering. Our Lady of Infinite Energies is pleased by the destruction of the profane. She won’t listen to your pleas if you don’t have something to prove your worth to her. Ectoplasm from a sanctified wraith is the best. A guaranteed blessing. I’ll make you a good price, sir.”

“Do I look like a sir? Spare me, kid. And you’ll make me a good price, you say. Where did you get real ectoplasm? How do you know it’s from a wraith?”

The lad’s ears flattened back for an instant, then they flicked forward with his toothy smile. “Apologies. I didn’t take you for a mage.”

Jerric snorted. “The way you talk, I didn’t take you for a Khajiit.”

“Gold Coast, just like you, mister.”

“What if I said I was born in Skyrim?” asked Jerric.

“Then so was I,” the Khajiit said, switching to the broad vowels of the north.

Jerric flipped him a coin, laughing. “You’re as much a cultist as I am, I’d wager. What should I know?”

“Keep an eye on your horses,” the lad grinned, tucking the coin away. “The harlots will rob you blind and be gone before morning. All of the dice games are rigged. Don’t eat the rat meat. It was near green when it went on the skewers.”

Jerric could have guessed most of it, but he had been considering the skewers of meat. Avoiding that was worth a Septim. He nodded his farewell and kept moving.

He decided to let Lildereth and Darnand come to find him, rather than taking the animals up to the shrine. They would soon learn that they needed an offering. Jerric thought that the Khajiit lad might actually have bonemeal, but he was certain it was not from an undead skeleton. Given the look of many of the daedra worshippers, he began to doubt if it really mattered. Meridia might appear to them in some form tomorrow, but he couldn’t imagine that she would speak individually to everyone who had gathered at her shrine.

The sun was westering when Lildereth and Darnand found him. Lildereth looked composed. Jerric couldn’t account for most of what was in Darnand’s expression.

“Good, you have not unpacked,” said Darnand.

“We need to go back to Kvatch and get some ectoplasm,” Jerric told them.

Darnand began checking over Banner’s tack. “We need to go, but not to Kvatch. Meridia spoke to me. We have a task to fulfill in Howling Cave, east of Skingrad. When we have completed our assignment, we are to return here to Meridia’s shrine. Her followers will not need to summon her again. She will be watching us.”

Jerric didn’t like the sound of that. “She spoke to you? How did you get her worshippers to summon her without any offering?”

Lildereth gave her crooked smile, her arms around Ulfe’s neck. “This one carries bonemeal and mort flesh around like you carry apples,” she said, nodding at Darnand.

Jerric stared at him. “Zombie meat? In your shoulder bag?”

“It was only a small sample,” Darnand protested. “I am not—”

“A necromancer,” Jerric and Lildereth finished for him.

“We are tasked with destroying the necromancers who inhabit Howling Cave,” Darnand continued, ignoring their mirth. “I propose that we travel until dark, then push for Skingrad at first light. As soon as we receive our assignments from the Mages Guild, we can make our plan.”

Lildereth nodded.

“All right,” said Jerric.

As darkness fell they made camp in a stand of maples protected on two sides by thickets of sweet briar. They set about the tasks that had already become familiar. Before long Jerric sat by the fire working on his blades, one eye on the stew pot. Darnand sat opposite him, settling in to his reading.

Ulfe rolled in the dry grass like a puppy until she had worked her way down to dirt. She finally came to rest on her back, front paws folded on her chest and hind legs splayed wide open. As her head flopped to the side, her tongue lolled out into the dust.

“You should have named her Lady,” Darnand remarked without looking up.

Lildereth sat down at Jerric’s side. After a moment she took his hand. Her little fingers made him feel like a giant.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured.

He knew she meant her angry comment about children in the campfires. “You didn’t mean it that way. But thanks for saying so.” He gave her hands a squeeze before he let go. “I’ll never get away from how my family died. Maybe someday I’ll quit trying to chase them. But anyway, nothing you can say will make it worse, so don’t worry about it. I’d hate for you to stop hissing at me just because it might come out wrong.” He went back to sharpening his knife. “Back in Kvatch, you were right about the ghosts.”

Lildereth looked silently into their fire. Jerric had found enough fallen wood, so he was certain she wouldn’t object to it. He decided this might be a good time to get some answers.

“Why are you alone, Lildereth? I know what you said about the Imperial folks who gave you a home. I mean your tribe. Where are your people?”

“Gone.”

Jerric kept his eyes on his work, hoping she would continue. After a long while, she did. “That is a story for another time, Jerric.”

Dammit, he thought. He tried another angle. “You’ll gather brush for camp. Why were you so upset about those daedra worshippers cutting wood?”

“It was the waste of it. The sheer arrogance, and the carelessness. They could have taken limbs, if they really needed them. Instead they just… I know we’re not in Valenwood, and I’m used to your ways. That woman with the young tree just bothered me.”

Jerric glanced over to check her temper. “Your bow is wood,” he ventured. “Is it from Cyrodiil?”

Lildereth actually smiled at him. “All right, since you’re curious. My bow is from home, given to me by a silverbark tree, and grown by a tree-shaper from its living branch. They made it for me before I even had the strength to string it, to serve all of my life. For when it fails, there’s a good chance I will follow.”

“Yeah, you work in close. That little flare of yours isn’t much of a backup plan.”

“My skeleton can cover my retreat,” Lildereth pointed out. “Though I have not needed her for some time.”

“I guess Ulfe doesn’t help you much when you’re hunting.”

“No, she does not. She’s trained to hunt with someone on horseback. She runs her prey down, while I stalk mine. I have taught her to hinder me less, however. Unless she sees deer. She cannot help but chase them.”

“These hills are full of deer.”

Lildereth sighed. “Yes.”

Jerric looked out into the dark. The fire ruined his night vision, and he couldn’t find an example for his question. “So that big meadow we crossed this afternoon.”

“You crossed,” Lildereth corrected him. “I went around it.”

Jerric mentally rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but you know the one I mean. How would you shoot a target across a meadow like that?”

“I wouldn’t. I’d find cover where I think they’ll pass. Wait for them to reach me.”

“What if they go a different way?”

Lildereth shrugged with one shoulder. “Follow. Try again. There’s always tomorrow.”

Jerric felt a chill that had nothing to do with the season. “Or you could just find another deer, I guess.”

She gave him a cool smile. “Are we still talking about deer?”

Jerric shuddered. “You’ve got my skin crawling every place I’ve ever been shot. I hope I don’t skitt myself for each time I’ve been poisoned. Good gods, woman. How did we get started on this subject?”

“You,” Lildereth told him. “You were wondering how far you’d have to run the next time you provoke me.”

They both had a chuckle over that. “Well, I was wondering about your long-range shooting,” Jerric admitted. “That’s a pretty short bow.”

“Grown with magic and made by a tree, not glued together in a workshop. That’s also why it hasn’t worn out or broken. Can you judge a blade by its sheath? Don’t let the appearance fool you. What looks like a child’s toy in your hands…”

“Yeah,” said Jerric. “I judge it by your shooting.”

“You’re thinking of a shot as making the target. I think of it as making the kill. For me, that means short range.” Lildereth watched the fire for a moment. “You’ve seen Merandil shoot. In Kvatch.”

“Yeah. His bow is nearly as long as me. How would you compare to him?”

Lildereth sighed wistfully. “He’s beautiful.”

Jerric bit the inside of his cheek. That wasn’t really his question, but he wouldn’t trade her answer for anything. He continued when he could control his grin. “Now tell me about arrows. Why do you keep taking them out and looking at all of them? Aren’t they the same ones that you put in there?”

Lildereth shook her head. “First impart to me the mystery of steel in seven words or less.”

Jerric snorted. “I just know how to use it.” He guessed she still felt sorry enough for one more question. “I’ve seen you eat rice and bread, but you always pick the lettuce off your sandwiches. Is it because lettuce is green? In Valenwood did you only eat meat?”

Lildereth gave him a level look, and Jerric stilled his hands while she spoke. “There is much about our ways that you would not understand, and I will not try to explain. But this part is simple. For every great tree that falls, only one can grow to replace it. Yet throughout its long life it will bear fruit and seeds that rival the stars in their number. My people accept what is freely given. We eat fruits, nuts, and grains. Even vines that die back and then sprout anew from the ground are woven into our shelters. But no plant of Valenwood is harmed by those who honor Y'ffre’s pact with our people.”

Jerric eyed her uneasily. “What about—”

“My grandmother’s corpse roasting on a spit at her funeral? Little elves gobbling up fallen armies? The entire province would be straining to move their bowels, not frolicking in the trees. We do make our loved ones and our strongest foes a part of ourselves when they die. But it’s not like you’ve heard. I think that’s enough for now.”

Jerric felt more relieved than he could have imagined. “What are your plans when we get to Skingrad?”

“I have business there. I’ll help you with Howling Cave, like I told Darnand. Other than that, I’m uncertain.”

“So, you could just leave us at any time.”

Lildereth gave him another green look. “What will you do if we see a Gate to Oblivion? I thought as much. So, you could just leave us at any time.”

“Fair enough,” said Jerric. He looked across the fire at Darnand. The Breton sat cross-legged and bent over the book in his lap, elbows braced on his knees. “Darnand, I think the soup’s ready.”

Darnand did not reply.

“Darnand,” said Jerric.

Nothing. Jerric and Lildereth exchanged a look.

“Ulfe,” said Lildereth, nodding across the fire. “Go give him a kiss.”

The hound hauled herself to her feet and ambled over to the Breton. Darnand didn’t move until she stuck her nose under his chin. Then he barely managed to keep his book, his feet, and their meal out of the fire. Lildereth and Jerric were no help at all.

“Yes?” Darnand demanded after he apologized to the dog. His glare was almost worthy of Lildereth.

“Soup’s ready,” said Jerric, wiping his eyes. “Didn’t want you to miss it.”

[SubRosa]

Our first Daedric Shrine. I have been wrestling with how to portray them in the TF, if I do at all. I will probably do something similar to what you have, at least in scale. Although it might not be as icky. Too bad no one at the shrine knows anything about camp management... But that is what you get when you have a lot of pie in the sky hippies, rather than good old-fashioned pragmatists.

The kids selling dead undead parts was a good touch too. I was just thinking that with all those pilgrims, there ought to be some of those who worships the holy gold piece looking to make some cash off the flock. I am half surprised no one was selling pieces of Meridia's skirt (guaranteed genuine!) or Elvis sweat, etc...

Lildreth's outrage over the felling of the saplings was a nice bit of world-building of Bosmer in general in the JF. That is another one of those things I have to wrestle with in the TF. Given that wood is all-pervasive material, used for everything from making buildings, furniture, weapons, boats, bowls, utensils, and of course firewood, there is no place you cannot escape seeing it used. I see you are going with a similar conservationist attitude. I thought it was a very unique and brilliant idea for Lildreth's bow to be made for her in the way you described.

Jerric stared at him. “Zombie meat? In your shoulder bag?”
Sure he's not a necromancer. That is just for a light snack at mid-morning...

“First impart to me the mystery of steel in seven words or less.”
Crom! Sorry, I had a Conan flashback there. The real Conan, with Ahnold of course.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Nov 2 2011, 07:31 PM

[haute ecole rider]

Once again you have regaled us with lovely tales of the Terrific Trio (and Ulfe!). I have enjoyed reading this story though I've been remiss in commenting. No need to repeat what others have said, right?

I thoroughly enjoyed Lildereth's description (though incomplete) of the Green Pact. It makes more sense now, and sounds like a better balanced diet than an all-meat one. Especially for tree-dwellers. Of course, it makes sense that they would want to keep their trees whole, but have no problems with wood from fallen limbs and the sort. Nice job improving on Beth's Lore!

SubRosa already mentioned my thoughts about the Daedric Shrine. It makes sense, like the Virgin of Lourdes, to make these places sites of pilgrimage. Though someone needs to come in there and organize it like a KOA campground and make a big moolah of cash off of the TES version of the counterculture.

And your character development just leaves me drooling with envy.

[King Coin]

I love the description of the area they are in. Jerric might dislike it, but it sounds like my kind of place.
Ooh. Yuck. The shrine sounds like a beautiful spot ruined with people! I was expecting anger from Lildereth, but her outburst was unexpected. Is she that close to nature? Or is there something else worrying her and this scene pushed her over the edge of control?

Ah, a light moment with one of the little entrepreneur. That little Khajiit is a heck of a businessman already!

Jerric… stop eating rat meat! Ugh!
Darnand… you are NOT helping your ‘not an necromancer’ argument here.

I’d hate for you to stop hissing at me just because it might come out wrong.
Aww, he really cares for her!

I was so happy to learn a little about the mysterious wood elf.
The ending was perfect.

[Acadian]

Lildereth stole the show here (again) for me. In just about every way. Very nicely done!

How clever to be selling the. . . items needed for tribute to Meridia. For me that, combined with the Khajiit lad really brought this rag taggle camp at the feet of Meridia to life.

I am not a crook necromancer! Gotta love Darnand. And I believe him now.

’She finally came to rest on her back, front paws folded on her chest and hind legs splayed wide open. As her head flopped to the side, her tongue lolled out into the dust.’
A particularly ladylike pose indeed!

As ever, your banter among the characters was absolutely enchanting.

[mALX]

Jerric called down to a Khajiit lad bearing a bulging shoulder sack. “What are you selling?”

“Bone meal, ectoplasm, zombie flesh, anything you need. What’ll it be for you, m’lord?”

Jerric got a bad feeling. “What do I need those things for? Other than a burial.”

The lad’s golden eyes opened wide as only a Khajiit’s could. “Why, for your offering. Our Lady of Infinite Energies is pleased by the destruction of the profane. She won’t listen to your pleas if you don’t have something to prove your worth to her. Ectoplasm from a sanctified wraith is the best. A guaranteed blessing. I’ll make you a good price, sir.”

“Do I look like a sir? Spare me, kid. And you’ll make me a good price, you say. Where did you get real ectoplasm? How do you know it’s from a wraith?”

The lad’s ears flattened back for an instant, then they flicked forward with his toothy smile. “Apologies. I didn’t take you for a mage.”

Jerric snorted. “The way you talk, I didn’t take you for a Khajiit.”

“Gold Coast, just like you, mister.”

“What if I said I was born in Skyrim?” asked Jerric.

“Then so was I,” the Khajiit said, switching to the broad vowels of the north.

Jerric flipped him a coin, laughing. “You’re as much a cultist as I am, I’d wager. What should I know?”

“Keep an eye on your horses,” the lad grinned, tucking the coin away. “The harlots will rob you blind and be gone before morning. All of the dice games are rigged. Don’t eat the rat meat. It was near green when it went on the skewers.”

Jerric could have guessed most of it, but he had been considering the skewers of meat. Avoiding that was worth a Septim. He nodded his farewell and kept moving.

This whole section was priceless !!

I like the slow friendship developing between Lildereth and Jerric - especially because they are so totally different from each other. Seeing as Jerric and Darnand are just as different, but their friendship is such a deep and trusting one - I think it bodes well for the same with Lildereth down the road.

Your world-building on Elf culture is fantastic !! Awesome Write !!

[Grits]

SubRosa: What is steel compared to the hand that wields it? I think they’ll avoid shrines on that Prince’s summoning day from now on, if only to skip the latrine experience. I could easily see Teresa ignoring the daedric shrines, since she is so connected with the aedra. I put a lot of thought into the Green Pact JF Version before I came up with something I could work with. Thank you for your words about Lildereth’s bow! I wanted something low-tech and magical but not enchanted for her, which would fit her tribal early life.

haute ecole rider: Thank you for your endorsement of Lildereth’s Green Pact Lite. She has things about herself that she thinks the fellows will find difficult to accept, but she wants to be truthful. Of course, some of it is none of their business. I definitely wanted to keep the Bosmer among Valenwood’s apex predators, but I also wanted them to have more of a relationship with the trees. I figured if the trees give them shelter, then why not fruit? It’s not hurting them, and it’s another way the trees can care for the elves.

King Coin: I love that part of Cyrodiil too, but Jerric is a big sky man. I don’t think he is going to enjoy Leyawiin. “Waster” is just about the worst thing Lildereth could call a person, so I’d say it was the thoughtlessness that just pushed her over the edge. She can deal with seeing wood harvested for timber in Cyrodiil, but the shrine is in the forest, not in a woodlot. I think of it as similar to how a lot of folks will eat a hamburger, but would lose it if they saw someone slaughter a baby deer. Speaking of gross, here’s a screenshot for you. Jerric tries the spell “Summon Ketchup.” Thank you, KC!

Acadian: Thank you for your kind words, Acadian! Your approval of Lildereth means a lot. Ulfe was particularly fun to write in this episode. I started out knowing how she looks and hunts, and let her sort of fill in the rest. Turns out she is the dog version of Jerric.

mALX: My affection for Maxical and Aravi is the reason for that Khajiit! He started off as an Imperial. I’m so glad you liked him. I love your insight into Jerric and Lildereth. She’s also unusual in that no matter how much he admires her, he’s not considering some far-fetched scheme to get into her pants. Kind of a new thing for him. Thank you, mALX!


Where we are: Jerric, Darnand, Lildereth, and Ulfe visited the shrine of Meridia on the day before her summoning day and found the shrine crowded with daedra worshippers. Darnand and Lildereth managed to speak to the Prince thanks to Darnand’s inexhaustible supply of undead detritus. They got away from the crowds before the daedra party. Lildereth shared some things about herself that evening at the campfire. Now they’re headed to Skingrad.



Chapter 13: Skingrad, Part Three

The sun was high enough not to glare in their eyes by the time Skingrad’s spires came into view. Darnand rode Banner, Jerric walked leading Flash, and Lildereth perched on Kip with one knee bent over the saddle. Ulfe trailed along behind, endlessly sniffing.

When they reached the Gold Road earlier that morning, Lildereth had dropped her burdens and abruptly stripped to her skin, to the men’s startled appreciation. Before they could close their mouths she had slipped into a green gown and twisted her hair into a becoming arrangement. Jerric decided to walk for awhile, allowing himself a little more room in the trousers. Lildereth accepted a ride to spare her city shoes. What little guidance Kip needed, she provided with her voice. Jerric found much to admire in her quiet way with animals.

The distant view made Jerric think of the last time he had walked into the sun along this road. Before was the only way he could think of it. He turned his thoughts until he found something he could cling to.

“There’s a Dunmer alchemist in town you should meet, Darnand,” he said. “I think she’s a necro-feeler.” Jerric glanced over at his friends.

Both of them looked blank. “A what?” asked Darnand.

“A necro-feeler. I guess that has to do with dead things. She asked me if I knew the fine for necro-feeling in Cyrodiil.”

Lildereth burst into giggles. Darnand’s eyebrows went up. “Is it possible that she said necrophilia?”

“Yeah,” said Jerric. “Anyway, I figured you’d know what it was about, with your, uh, interests.” Darnand pinched the bridge of his nose. Lildereth shook with silent spasms. “What’s with the elf?”

“I expect that her imagination has carried her away for the moment,” said Darnand.

“Fresh zombie,” gasped Lildereth, pointing at Darnand with a trembling hand.

“Well, he could use a bath,” Jerric said uncertainly.

“Thank you for the recommendation, Jerric.” Darnand shot a look at Lildereth. “I think it prudent that we avoid her, at least until we slaughter her possible associates at Howling Cave.”

“Oh,” said Jerric. “Right. Well, there’s another alchemist at the West Weald Inn, living in the basement. There’s not one at the mages guild.”

“I do not require an alchemist,” said Darnand. “However I suppose you will want to find a brothel. Shall we meet you later at the guild hall?”

Jerric suppressed a shudder. “No, I don’t think we can spare the coin. This is a sophisticated town for all of the pastures and vineyards around it. And watch yourself if you climb into bed with one of the local mages. You might start out on top and wind up in the middle. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, I just don’t want you to be, you know. Surprised.”

The dismay on Darnand’s face told Jerric that he had said both too much and too little. “I do not know,” said Darnand. “I do not know in the least. To what do you refer?”

Jerric had never heard such a belly laugh from a wood elf before. This seemed to be a good time to change the subject. He glanced up the road for inspiration. “Look, sheep! Let’s talk to that Bosmer.”

They had reached the part of the county where much of the land was fenced for pastures, fields, and vineyards. The Gold Road was wide enough here for two shepherds to pass without mingling their flocks. One such fellow approached, keeping his two dozen or so charges politely on his side. Where Lildereth dressed in green made Jerric think of every growing thing, this mer was brown as dirt from head to toe, apart from his wide smile.

“Hail, Bosmer,” Jerric called. “How does the day greet you?”

The Bosmer immediately put the lie to his drab appearance. “It is all in the nose,” he declared. “Yes, of course, it is also in the mouth! The fragrance, the sharp, startling odor... the sheep's cheese... ambrosia! Nectar! Yes. I am the Shepherd, Yourass. And it is my sheep, and my deft hand and sharp nose, which produce the glorious cheeses of Skingrad.”

For a stunned moment Jerric couldn’t speak. “I’m Jerric,” he managed. “Pleased to meet you.” A glance at Darnand showed that the Breton was also struggling. Jerric felt a guffaw building inside him, and began to panic. He had no wish to be rude to this enthusiastic little mer.

“His name is Uuras,” Lildereth murmured, her eyes still bright with humor.

“Thank the gods,” gasped Darnand.

“Where can you get sheep's cheese but in Skingrad?” Uuras warbled. “And why? Because only in Skingrad is Uuras, Master of Sheep's Cheese! I can also teach you a bit of athletic conditioning, if you can spare the time. Why, you ask? Because I am the mountain sheep's brother, and I must dash with him from crag to crag!”

Jerric’s mind took off in multiple directions. Sheep’s cheese was widely available in Cyrodiil, produced in nearly every county. He was unsure if Cheese Master Uuras would be angered or disappointed by that news, so he chose not to share it. He thought that the piercing quality of the shepherd’s voice might be an advantage in the heavy foliage of his native Valenwood, but in the open air it could quickly become tiresome. Maglir’s voice had a similar effect inside a tavern, he remembered. He began to understand Lildereth’s attraction to the towering but taciturn Merandil. On the other hand, Jerric found Thaurron’s company delightful, and his voice even lyrical. A quick reflection put Uuras and Maglir in the minority of Bosmer, in Jerric’s experience. Maglir may still be at the Fighters Guild in Skingrad. Perhaps Jerric could pick up a fast contract while he was in town. Also, he wondered to what crags Uuras was referring. Certainly not any in County Skingrad. But still…

“He might teach you a thing or two,” Jerric said to Darnand.

His friend looked surprised. “I am satisfied with my present trainer.”

While they stood chatting, the sheep had crowded across the lane. Lildereth slipped off Kip’s back and began to gently encourage them out of the way. “It has been a pleasure to meet you, Uuras,” she trilled.

The shepherd grinned so hard that it overflowed his face into a nimble little leap. “And you, sister Bosmer!” But he found himself addressing Lildereth’s back as she strode toward the city.

A stop at the Grateful Pass Stables put the horses at leisure. Tilmo helped them stow their packs and gear, so they entered the city lightly laden. The sun on the tall stone buildings made Jerric feel a little warm, and it deepened the shadows even at this hour of the morning. Few trees or planters graced the streets. Summer or winter, the city looked much the same.

He didn’t feel like talking as they made their way to the guild hall in Hightown. Lildereth was also silent. Druja confronted them in the entry hall, or perhaps that was her manner of greeting. Druja the Disappointed, Jerric silently named her. She even made Ulfe’s ears droop.

“I am Darnand Penoit, Guild Associate,” Darnand said to her. “We have met before, though I do not expect you to remember me.” He gestured to his friends. “Allow me to—”

Druja interrupted him with a flutter of her own hand. “Yes. I do not know the Bosmer.”

“Lildereth,” she said. “Journeyman. When I last visited this guild hall, Aelindor was chapter head.”

“You will find things have changed,” Druja said in her sour tone. “Are you passing through, or do you have business here?”

“Jerric and I are seeking recommendations from this chapter,” said Darnand. “We—”

“Oh, who cares. See Adrienne for that. If you can convince her to take her nose out of whatever book she’s reading.” The Argonian gave Lildereth a narrow look.

The mer returned it. “My business is my own.”

“We require accommodations,” Darnand said quickly. “Carahil suggested that you are the one to approach with such matters.”

Druja made an annoyed little hiss. “The common quarters are full of mages traveling for South Winds Prayer. However, there is an unassigned chamber with two spare beds in the third floor living quarters. It was once occupied by Vigge the Cautious. You may use it until Adrienne objects. How you arrange yourselves is none of my concern.” The hall seemed to lighten when Druja stalked away into the adjoining chamber. They heard a door slam.

“I wonder if Argonians are completely immune to poison,” Lildereth mused.

“You two can have the beds. I’m all right with the floor,” said Jerric. He could get his bedroll from the stable easily enough. He hoped they could recapture their companionable mood.

“You sleep better with your arms around someone,” Lildereth told him. “Tonight it’s Darnand’s turn. He’s going to try to switch with Ulfe.”

The dog perked up at the sound of her name. Jerric wondered if Lildereth was jesting. Darnand’s twitching lip said that she was.

“I’ll sleep with the hound,” Jerric announced. “I might get some of my fleas to jump onto her. There’s more—”

“Yes, we know,” said Lildereth. “There’s more hair on your balls than in all of High Rock and Valenwood combined.” Lildereth’s eyes were bright again.

“I was going to say on my knuckles. You have a filthy mind.”

“I will share a bed with Jerric,” Darnand said bravely. “Though I would ask that this once you might sleep in your drawers.”

“You don’t have to worry, I’m not going bare into Vigge’s old bed.” They both gave him incredulous looks. “Don’t you two have standards? Besides, this one time I woke up in—”

“No,” Darnand interrupted. “Just, no.”

“You’re frightening Ulfe,” said Lildereth. “I’ll share with Darnand. Neither of us will kick off the blankets.”

Darnand picked up his pack. “We should claim the empty chamber immediately, then seek out Adrienne. If memory serves, it may be some time before she will consent to speak with us.”

Lildereth started toward the stairs.

“Good plan,” said Jerric. “I need to speak with Druja first.”

Darnand snorted. “May we both receive the Blessings of Zenithar before our respective trials.”

A tap on Druja’s door brought her back into the side chamber.

“I took some magicka gems the last time I was here,” he told her, nodding at the counter where Vigge had kept his supplies. “Adrienne said to do it. I woke her up.”

“Adrienne would never remember. You made a mistake by mentioning it to me.”

“Uh…” Jerric wasn’t sure what she meant. “I’d like to pay for them. What do I owe?”

“How should I know?” Druja held out a scaled palm.

It took Jerric a moment to realize he should just hand over some gold and forget about it. Carahil and Sigrid do run clean halls, he thought, picking through his purse for the thick fifty-Septim coins. There’s a lot more wrong here than playing reluctant bedfellows.

“Letters,” Druja rasped as she tucked away his coins.

“Huh?”

Druja stepped to the lectern and lifted the lid. After a moment’s rummaging, she produced a handful of envelopes and scrolls. “Your friends have letters.”

Jerric took the bundle and jogged up the stairs, through the library, and up another set of stairs to the richly appointed living quarters. Darnand’s voice drew him to the chamber that had been Vigge’s. Two beds now graced the chamber, both of them generous in size and luxurious of bedding, though only the burgundy coverlet matched the carpets and draperies. There were more than enough cupboards and chests to accommodate all of their belongings, even though some of them were already full. Jerric wondered if Vigge had brought any of his silks and velvets to his new life in Kvatch.

Darnand had already spread papers over the desk and pillaged one of the bookcases. Lildereth was fiddling with towels at the wash stand. Jerric could imagine the small dining table laden with sheep’s cheese and wine bottles. This visit was beginning to show promise.

“Mail!” he announced, handing the bundle to Darnand.

The Breton quickly sorted the stack. “Most of this is refuse,” he remarked. “I do not require carriage insurance. I cannot imagine why Carahil sent it forward.” Then his face lit with surprise. “I have a letter from Abiene!” Lildereth took the rest while he opened it.

Jerric had to admit that such a poor correspondent as he had no reason to hope for a letter. Still, just hearing her name had opened a pit in his stomach. His palms felt damp, and his pulse had quickened. He tried to tell himself it was foolishness. They had no promises between them. At this very moment she could be squirming under some other Nord, clutching his back and calling him Jerric.

“This one’s for you,” said Lildereth, passing him an envelope. She was already opening a scroll.

Jerric turned toward the window with a smile cracking his face. He lingered over the sight of his name written in that confident, feminine hand. He closed his eyes and tried to catch her scent before he unfolded the page.

The Chapel of Stendarr
Chorrol

6 Morning Star, 433



My love,


I cannot write what is in my heart. Only that when I think of you, I am stronger.

Every day my hopes come to life under my hands. Each night brings me closer to the next time we touch.

I am yours.


Abiene

.

[ghastley]

I just love the idea of Cyrodilic junk mail! What's next? Sponsored spell effects?

This fireball brought to you by ...

[mALX]

Between the "necrofeelers," Uuras, and Jerric's inner dialogue in the Mages Guild - this chapter had me in whoops !!! Then the letters from Abiene; poor Jerric and Darnand. I always worry that one wrong word in a letter from Abiene may be a splinter that wedges such too great friends apart. Awesome Write !!!

[haute ecole rider]

What a lovely and rich episode this has been!

First Lildereth's catching the men off guard by her sudden wardrobe change. Somehow I am put in mind of clotheshorse Buffy. Wonder if she does the same thing? TBH, at first I was looking for water.

Then the Uuras/Yourass/Uranus/Youranus banter had me fighting to keep my tea off my keyboard! That one totally caught me off guard!

Then the discussion of who shall get the bed and who shall get the floor (with Ulfe as the only innocent bystander in all this) had my head spinning from lack of oxygen (laughing, you know).

Finally closing with the letter(s) from Abiene really put the icing on the cake here! Loved, loved, loved what she wrote to J - short and sweet, but with no doubt about her true feelings.

[SubRosa]

My big problem with using the Daedra is that they took no part in creating the world, so nothing in it can reflect or symbolizes them. They should be utterly alien beings, completely outside of Nirnish experience. The reverse would also be true. Humans, elves, tailed folk, etc... would be just as incomprehensible and unknowable to them. It should be like comparing Cthulhu to people, and those of us who have read Lovecraft know how that works out.

But Bethesda wants them to be gods worshiped alongside the Nine. Critters people call up once a year as part of a festival on that deity's summoning day. They are given symbols and spheres of influence, Nightmares, destruction, madness, plots, etc... But those symbols should all be Aedric in nature, not Daedric, as they are the product of Aedric energy. Or at least of Lorkhan's, as his heart is the heart of the world. For example, Azura's symbols are the moon and the star. But the moons are Lorkhan's dead body, and the stars are holes ripped in the fabric of reality by the fleeing Aedra. So neither has anything to do with Azura.

This has given me some rather radical thoughts about the nature of the Daedra Princes, which I am still mulling over whether or not to use. If so, it will reconcile these logical difficulties I am having, and I will probably start putting them to more use in the TF. Tadrose makes an excellent character to convey some of these ideas, as she is from Morrowind.

Anyway, back to the JF. How nice of those wood elves to change clothes in broad daylight! Teresa needs to meet more girls from Valenwood... I loved that Lildreth rode the rest of the way to save her shoes. Or was it to save her feet from walking miles in high heels?

Necro-feeling! How perfect! Of course that would be something Darnand is interested in!

That was thoughtful of Jerric to warn the others about the proclivities of the local mages. But the way he turned the conversation to sheep afterward made me wonder about the proclivities of Nords...

“You’re frightening Ulfe,”
Not just Ulfe!

I see what Jerric thought about there being more wrong at Skingrad then just the sleeping arrangements. I think you portrayed the ramshackle nature of the Skingrad guild hall quite well. Not only an absentee leader, but a second who just doesn't care.

And finally mail. How sweet. Now we get to see the last letter of Abiene's, that was not in the old chapter.

[Acadian]

I loved how Lildereth was struck to just change clothes on the spot! What a perfectly ‘Lildereth’ thing to do! Buffy does that, but has learned that those around her are more comfortable if she disappears via an invisibility spell for a minute while she does so.

~ An Ode to the Woodsisters ~

Little elves, casting a trail of clothes as they lightly dance through a moonlit meadow . . . "Our ears are big and our breasts are small. Oh listen! Is that a waterfall?"

Necro-what?!? I loved this!

’The dismay on Darnand’s face told Jerric that he had said both too much and too little.’
Masterfully put!

“Hail, Bosmer,” Jerric called. “How does the day greet you?”
You and I have a pact to think of each other whenever we use that greeting that both of us like so very much.

The entire sequence with Uuras was positively lyrical. What a perfect blend of clever and natural dialogue delightfully augmented by Jerric’s wide-ranging ruminations.

“I wonder if Argonians are completely immune to poison,” Lildereth mused.’
Yes, that's our Lildereth.

What a beautiful letter! So much said with so few words.

[King Coin]

Thanks for that wonderful image of Jerric chowing down on some rat.
-------
As if we needed further proof that Lildereth was a Bosmer! Sounds like she’s expecting to meet someone. Is this why she’s been on edge?

Oh good reminder of Jerric’s family. I find it easy to forget with his attitude that he’s suffering.

That whole section with the necrophilia was hilarious but this line really topped it for me:

“Well, he could use a bath,” Jerric said uncertainly.


I think Uuras will fit in the Shivering Isles quite well. He seems to share many traits with the residents of mania.

I wonder what Jerric is going to think of the letter. That’s some heavy stuff, is he prepared for it?

Wonderful chapter!

[McBadgere]

How the hell did I miss 3 of them?... ...

*Shrug*...Sorry about that...

Fantastic writing...Much enjoying...

I hadn't thought about the Daedric shrines meself...Definately something in need to think about...

Cheese!!... ...Excellent... ...

Nice one... ...

Yeah...So worth the wait for that review eh?... ...

...

[Grits]

ghastley: Thanks, I'm glad I left that in. I was afraid it might sound too silly. How about ID tags for the undead: If lost, please return to :____________

mALX: Thanks, mALX! I think they were all ready to lighten the mood after Kvatch. You’re right about Abiene’s letters. Darnand has a lot invested in both of them, and he doesn’t seem like someone who could just brush off such a major disappointment.

haute ecole rider: I thought of Buffy, too. These girls are not bothered by silly Imperial social conventions. Of course, Lildereth would point out that her quick change was shielded by three horses, and the guys had the whole empty road to look at. From Jerric’s POV all we get is, “Naked chick!” Thanks, I’m glad you enjoyed it. And yes, Abiene finally made up her mind.

SubRosa: Those Valenwood girls are as unselfconscious as spriggans. It’s a shame to waste cute shoes on walking. Plus she can see much better from on top of a horse, especially when there is a Nord loose on the road. I can’t help but contrast the Skingrad and Bravil guilds, both in their buildings and the attitudes of their leaders. Thank you, SubRosa!

Acadian: I thought of you throughout this very Buffy episode! What a lovely Ode to the Woodsisters, and how very true. Thank you for sharing it! I seem to recall a furiously blushing Daenlin once instructed a young Buffy not to drop trou in the presence of her male friends. The lads are glad that he didn’t tell Lildereth. It was fun to show what goes on in Jerric-think, as well as a few of his blond moments. Any more than that would be exhausting! Thank you for your kind words, Acadian!

King Coin: Poor Jerric didn’t have a clue throughout much of this episode. Of course Lildereth flashing them didn’t help his focus. I’m glad I put in that mention of his ongoing sadness. He has definitely not gotten over losing his family. He’s pretty much riding a little raft of cheer on a sea of grief most of the time. Jerric would love to move to Chorrol, marry his girl, and get busy producing a tribe of curly-haired half-Nords. Pretty soon he would be pestering her to cut back on her hours at the chapel, and she would want to know if he thought he was going out with his friends from the Fighters Guild again this weekend. But there’s this dang Oblivion crisis… Oh, Lildereth was just waiting to get out of the brush before she put on a dress. Maybe she will meet someone, though. Glarthir? Thank you, KC!

McBadgere: Your comments are most appreciated, at any time. I am fluent in emoticons and ellipses. I’m glad you’re enjoying it! Thanks, McB!

Where we are: Skingrad. Jerric and Darnand are seeking recommendations for the Mages Guild.



Chapter 13: Skingrad, Part Four

Jerric reached Bleak Flats cave after less than an hour’s walk from Skingrad, including the time he took along the way filling his pockets with flax seeds. His assignment from Adrienne was to bring the Bosmer Erthor back to the guild hall so that she could consult with him. After being treated dismissively by all of Skingrad’s mages and half of the domestic staff, Jerric finally discovered that Adrienne had sent him away to conduct his work in a local cave. It took him more time to learn Erthor’s whereabouts than it did to actually walk there. No one seemed to know how long the Bosmer had been missing, but they agreed that the guild hall had been quiet without him. It was incomprehensible to Jerric that Adrienne had not sent someone earlier to check on the welfare of one of her mages.

A wall of mortared stone and a closed wooden door blocked the cave’s entrance. Jerric guessed that Erthor locked or bolted the door from the inside while he was in residence. A shove confirmed his theory.

“Erthor?” Jerric called and knocked, then pounded and shouted. Even Lildereth can’t open a lock that isn’t there, he thought. With a certain degree of smugness, he reached for his axe.

Inside the cave, darkness and a rotten smell greeted him. Daylight illuminated the near walls and downward sloping ceiling, but not the far recesses. He fervently hoped that the stink was not coming from Erthor. Jerric slipped on his ring, and a faint pink glow showed him something moving below with a familiar lurching motion. His gut told him it was a zombie.

Jerric heaved the door back over the opening. If the Bosmer still lived, it would not do to have him run out like a rabbit while Jerric was distracted by a fight. Adrienne and Darnand had already buried themselves in some research project. Weeks could pass before they thought to check on him, living on raw mushrooms while he searched the cave system for Erthor.

Vigge’s teaching was still fresh in Jerric’s mind. He took a moment to shift his gear into readiness, anxious to test his new knowledge of elemental destruction. His torchlight showed him a narrow path along the cave’s floor, smooth and solid through areas of loose and jagged rock. Jerric smiled to himself as he drew fire into his hand. Here was also a chance to improve his footwork.

He wasn’t smiling any more by the time the seventh zombie toppled to the ground. Sweat soaked his hair, and his mouth felt coated in zombie smoke. The leather over his chest was darkened where a Tongue of Fire spell had flared back toward him close enough to singe it. He stepped past the smoldering corpse and moved in deeper.

A row of torches stood across an opening at the back of the cavern, each held upright by its own little pile of rocks. The smell of stale urine and worse told Jerric that someone had been careless with their slop jar. Doubtlessly it was the Bosmer-sized life sign pacing back and forth in a chamber beyond. Relief eased the tension in his neck. Jerric slipped off his ring and strode between the torches.

He was expecting a bare-bones work area, but this space resembled a snug study more than a cave. Tapestries lined the walls, and rugs softened the floor. Candelabras chased away every shadow. Niches cut into the rock made one wall a library and another a dressing chamber. Only the bed was disappointing, a simple pallet on the floor. Jerric realized that everything in the cavern could have been trundled in on a handcart.

In the middle of the chamber stood a wood elf, shaking in his pointy little shoes. His mouth opened and closed without a sound. That’s the prettiest male I’ve ever seen, thought Jerric.

“Erthor?”

“You... how did you get in here?”

“I’m Jerric. I’m here to rescue you.” Jerric could imagine Lildereth’s reaction to that announcement.

The mer’s wits seemed to return in a rush. “Are the creatures gone? I heard a fight. Horrible things, and something was killing them! What could be worse than zombies, I wondered? Perhaps whatever it is will not find me all the way back here! And then I remembered the torches! And then you did find me!”

“Adrienne sent me.”

“I put the torches there to keep them at bay,” Erthor continued on the same breath. “They shy away from fire. I want to get out of here. I’ve been trapped here for days! I didn’t dare move a muscle! I’ve barely slept!”

“Well, I guess you can come with me now.”

“Are you sure they’re all gone? I can leave the cave? You’re heading back to Skingrad, aren’t you? And I could come with you? Oh, thank you! I’m ever so grateful!”

“Yeah. Is there anything you need to bring? I’ll give you a hand.”

“You’re just too kind!” The Bosmer shoved a bulging sack at Jerric and hopped behind the desk before he could blink.

“Moving out?” Jerric asked, hefting the bag.

“Only my soiled linens.” Erthor was already stuffing papers into a satchel. “I need Adrienne’s notes! And a few of my books. And…”

The laundry sack was large enough to hold a reasonable person’s entire wardrobe, more if they wore child-sized clothing. Jerric shook his head. Mages.

When he was ready to leave, Erthor cast a light spell and put out the torches. He led Jerric up a narrow passage to the side entrance Jerric had found earlier from the other side, blocked by a stone panel. The turn of a wheel opened the way, and they followed the path up through the caverns.

“Did you see who put those zombies in your cave?” Jerric asked. “If there are necromancers about, you shouldn’t come back here until I take care of them.” Howling Cave was on the other side of Skingrad, but it could be the same group with multiple hideouts.

“Well…” Erthor patted his hair, brushed off his sleeves, then smoothed his already neat doublet.

Jerric stopped walking so that he would have to answer. “Out with it, Bosmer.”

“I was working with summoning,” Erthor explained, glancing nervously into the dark. His face pleaded for something. Understanding? “I began exploring my new theory with scamps, some time ago. That’s how I ended up being sent here. My experiments sometimes…”

“Don’t work?” Jerric offered. “Explode?”

“Go awry. The scamps persisted in this realm long after my strength failed. I could not control them.” He wrung his hands. “Do you suppose we could converse as we walk? I’m anxious to return to the safety of Skingrad.”

Jerric started walking along the path again. Erthor trotted beside him.

“I adjusted my spell, and began to work with zombies instead,” said the mer. “I thought that my failure resulted from the nature of my summoned daedra. It’s easier to bend the will of an undead summoning, since it’s already the will of a mortal imposed upon a…” Erthor seemed to notice Jerric’s eye roll. “But to reach the point of the story, my efforts with the zombies were successful. Too successful. Instead of summoning them to my location and binding them for a time, I was moving them here bodily. I must have been transporting something from the cave to replace them, because I left no void to call them back where they belong. Before I realized what was happening, I had summoned seven.”

“I wondered how they got in. Since their remains are still here, I didn’t think they could be summonings.” Jerric had a thought. “So you’re saying that you moved seven zombies from somewhere, and I killed them?”

Erthor nodded, smiling uncertainly.

“Do you know what this means?” Jerric grabbed the mer by the arm to halt him. “We took those fetchers out of the fight! Ha! Some necromancer is really pissed right now.” Jerric dropped the sack and rolled his shoulders while he filled his hand with fire. “Come on, what are you waiting for? Summon another one. Let’s kill it!”

Erthor’s big brown eyes popped open even wider. “You are a madman!” he squeaked. The elf took off running as if shot from a bow, leaving Jerric groping for the laundry bag by the light of his flare.

Jerric caught up to him as Erthor struggled with the heavy exterior door. “Calm down,” he said, lifting it aside. “I’ll walk you back to the guild hall. No more zombies.”

Erthor didn’t relax until they reached the vineyards. Then he accepted Jerric’s waterskin, bread, cheese, and an apple, chatting away between bites. In addition to Erthor’s own research with summoning, it sounded as if he and Adrienne were engaged in some kind of joint project. The details were incomprehensible to Jerric. He debated using his Arcane Well for the rest of the conversation.

When Erthor paused for a breath, Jerric glanced over at him. Even after days underground terrorized by zombies, the Bosmer had a pleasant demeanor and a spring in his step. His hair looked silky and thick, and he had a decent set of shoulders, unlike many mages. Jerric still didn’t know how Lildereth’s taste ran, other than not to Nords. This Erthor might have a chance with her. Gods knew she could use a tumble.

“So Erthor, are you single? I mean, I know you live in a cave. But are you seeing anyone?”

Erthor gave Jerric a look of abject horror.

“No!” Jerric said quickly. “I have a friend. She—”

The mer looked on the brink of fleeing again.

Jerric sighed. “Never mind.”

[SubRosa]

It was incomprehensible to Jerric that Adrienne had not sent someone earlier to check on the welfare of one of her mages.
As you said, the difference between the this as Kud-Ei's guild hall are startling. For some reason whenever a Breton woman becomes the leader of a Mages Guild hall, they become distracted air-heads.

Jerric should have brought Darnand along. Zombies are right up his alley after all. Hopefully Jerric will carve up some rotting flesh to take back to Darnand for his 'necessities'.

and his mouth felt coated in zombie smoke.
Ewww, you just had to make me imagine the stench of burning zombie!

That’s the prettiest male I’ve ever seen, thought Jerric.
Uh oh, I think Jerric has spent too much time in lockups... Abiene might have some competition. Especially with Erthor shoving his bulging sack at Jerric.

“Come on, what are you waiting for? Summon another one. Let’s kill it!”
For once it is the Nord who is mad, and not the Bosmer! This would also mean that not only could you teleport zombies from somewhere else, but anyone. A great way to assassinate people.

Gods knew she could use a tumble.
No arguments here! I just loved Erthor's natural thought when Jerric asked him out on a date. Erm, I mean when he asked him to ask Lildreth out on a date!