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

[haute ecole rider]

Enjoyed this chapter a great deal.

I suppose that Ayleid ruin is Ceyatatar? Flash is like most horses - he'll do anything for a juicy, crunchy apple! Just one thing that jumped out at me. "Ground tying" is more an euphemism than anything else - it consists merely of dropping the rein or lead on the ground. Horses (especially working cow horses) can be trained to stand in place with a dropped rein. They are actually not physically tied to anything. I avoid the term because it can be confusing for many non-horse people, and just mention dropping the rein (or lead, in Flash's case). Just something I wanted to point out to you. Maybe you know what it really means, but I'm sure most of our readers don't.

It's surprising how close your depiction of Vigge the Cautious came to mine. I just finished writing the Skingrad chapter and there is a bit about their sleeping habits.

Scamp skin for Sigrid? That's my kind of girl! I don't go for roses, either! Sounds like Jerric really knows how to woo a woman!

[Acadian]

Great fun to see Flash climb the steps. Animals steal the show, don't they?

“Ha ha!” He heard another flare behind him and turned in time to catch it full on his chest. The magicka surged through him as he absorbed the spell,
Gosh, that Atronach birthsign sooo fits Jerric! Being big and not so sneaky, he is quite the target so it works perfectly for him! What a fun and exciting little fight scene! Nice little touches of harvesting steel blue entoloma and scamp skin.

I smiled all the way through your entire depiction of the Skingrad guild. Wonderful detail you lavish on the guild and its denizens. Buffy was taken aback when she met Druja as well - about the first cranky Argonian she had ever met!

[Zalphon]

I like how the dialogue doesn't feel forced at all. It feels like two people are actually talking

[Jacki Dice]

A Nord and a horse are not going to sneak up on anything.

That gave me the image of a Nord and a horse entering a china shop...

I love the detailed descriptions of the mages guild. I could easily picture it myself.

[D.Foxy]

HOW IN FREAKING HELL HAVE EYE MISSED THIS UNTIL NOW???!!!

Oh, the writing! The style! The Humour!

The opportunities for DHERTEE IN YO END-0!!!

But now that I have cum into this thread (somebody break out the tissues) rest boat sured that I shall be following - er - stalking this!!!

[Grits]

SubRosa: Ewwww! Somehow I doubt Buffy has to worry about her being alone with Savlian after all!
No matter how velvet-clad, platinum blonde, and busty, an alchemist is likely to have her pockets full of things that are revolting!

Thank you for sharing your thoughts about sexual mores in Cyrodiil. The game gives us everything from Sanguine worshippers to Alessia Ottus, and it’s fun to see how different people take it in their own directions.

Thank you, SubRosa! Falanu is up next. Joe Buck and the necrophiliac.

haute ecole rider: I suppose that Ayleid ruin is Ceyatatar? Indeed, but Jerric doesn’t know the name yet.

Thank you very much for the advice about the ground tying/lead dropping – I changed the wording. It never crossed my mind that people would think he was tying the lead to the ground, but that’s exactly how it sounded.

I think anyone who has awakened with Vigge the Creepy in their bed or standing over them will relate! I am too baffled by the nocturnal activities at the Skingrad Mages Guild to even try to explain them. I can’t wait to hear what Julian thinks of that bunch!

Acadian: Flash has been such unexpected fun! I’m learning more about the Atronach birthsign with more game time, and the biggest thing is how much time he has to spend doing alchemy. Thank you for your kind words!

Zalphon: Thank you for your comment! Dialog is my favorite part.

Jacki Dice: Thank you!
That gave me the image of a Nord and a horse entering a china shop...
I wonder if they have tea cups in Skyrim.

D. Foxy: Welcome, Foxy! Or should I say wellcu-, no I’ll leave that for you! It’s great to have you here, despite the extra cleanup!


Chapter 6: Going Home, Part 5

Jerric jogged through the streets of Skingrad in the rain. He loved the way they ran up and down with big rocks jutting out of the ground. The buildings were orderly and fine, but the land was wild underneath. The rain turned all of the stone to dark gray, and he felt as if he was winding through twilit canyons. Little rivers of rainwater ran down the steep streets, adding to the effect. There were few people out in the rain, so he could look around as he went instead of minding where he put his feet and elbows. He made his trades on the market street, and then he hurried to his last errand before the shops all closed.

He entered All Things Alchemical and flipped back his hood, shaking off water. A female Dunmer stood smiling behind the counter. Jerric didn't know much about fashion, but he could tell that her gown was expensive. Her short, red-gold hair framed her face nicely, and she had the ruby eyes and delicate features of her race. He noted the curve of her lips, and his appreciative gaze dropped lower.

“Greetings, Nord," she purred, and Jerric pulled his eyes back to her face. She reached over the counter. "Give me your hands." Puzzled, Jerric complied. Her hands were small and warm on his. "Pale as the snow and cold as the grave," she murmured, as if to herself.

Jerric pulled back far too quickly to be considered polite. The hair on his arms stood at attention, and his sensitive parts were in full retreat. He had to firmly squelch the urge to flee. "It's raining," he gulped in explanation. “I’m Jerric.”

"I'm Falanu. House Hllaalu. As if that matters here," she said pleasantly.

He took the plant that Valus had given him out of his bag. “Do you know what this plant is?”

"I don’t know. Never seen that sort of root before. Head over to the West Weald Inn and talk to Sinderion. He’s a botanist. He could identify it for you I'm sure."

“Thanks,” he said, and he put his bag on the counter. “I need water hyacinth nectar, stinkhorn caps, and lichor. I have some things to trade, I might be able to take all you’ve got.”

They completed their transaction, but Falanu seemed to want him to linger. “I'm the only alchemist in Skingrad,” she told him. “Not much business here, but I can't go back to Morrowind. It's just like anywhere else in the Empire. By the way... do you happen to know what the fine is here in Cyrodiil for necrophilia? Just asking."

She had her hands on him again, and his mind was filled with broken glass. “Huh...what?”

“Oh, nothing. I was just wondering.”

Jerric escaped the shop and weighed his coin purse with satisfaction. Falanu must have liked him. He was sure he could buy a round or two at the West Weald Inn and still afford a few of his favorite things at The Colovian Rose. He decided to grab a quick meal at the inn, proceed to The Rose, then time permitting stop back at the inn to make some new friends before crashing into bed at the Mages Guild.

His musings had carried him to the inn, and he hung his dripping cloak by the door. The silk-clad publican greeted him right away. “Welcome to the West Weald Inn. I'm Erina Jeranus, the proprietor. If you'd like food or a bed, speak to me.”

“I would like a meal please, and wine while I wait. Tamika’s West Weald.” She gave him a look that made him pat his hair and check to see if his shirt was sticking through his fly. He wondered if Erina disapproved of all of her customers, or if he was somehow special. “Is there a Sinderion here? I’d like to talk to him."

Erina nodded toward a door. “In the basement.” Jerric decided not to knock, he just opened the door and went down the stairs.

He found himself in a large, candle-lit room containing neatly organized storage for the inn as well as living quarters and a work area. An Altmer male stood in the middle of the space, dressed plainly and holding a vial in his hand. Jerric looked in amazement at the long, well-equipped tables. “Falanu said she was the only alchemist in Skingrad,” he said in surprise, completely forgetting his manners.

The Altmer laughed. “I am well known as a botanist, and I do not compete with Falanu. If I can avoid that young lady’s attention, I will consider myself fortunate,” he said.

Jerric folded his hands respectfully. “Apologies. I’m Jerric. I have a plant to show you.”

Sinderion folded his hands in return. “I am Sinderion. Botanist, as you know, and alchemist, as you have surmised. I conduct my research here. Plants, specifically their alchemical properties.”

Jerric got out the plant sample. “A farmer had one of these growing in a bowl. It made a strange noise, so faint you almost couldn’t hear it.” He handed over the plant.

Sinderion’s face wore a gleeful smile. “Nirnroot! What a nice sample. What do you know about this plant?”

“Nothing. I was hoping you could tell me about it.”

That seemed to be the answer Sinderion was looking for, and he settled into an instructive manner. “A few years ago an adventurer not unlike yourself sold me a musty old tome containing alchemical formulas. Most of them were worthless, but one page contained a recipe for the Elixir of Exploration, a sort of ultimate dungeon delver’s potion. The formula looks sound, but it contains an extremely rare ingredient. You guessed it, Nirnroot!” He patted the wilted plant. “I have so many delicate experiments going on, I can’t possibly go out plant hunting. I had to put the recipe aside. But now that you’re here, that changes everything! Since you know what to look for, you could collect some for me. Do you feel up to a little expedition?”

“I have to get back to work, but I’ll keep an eye out for it in my travels. I’ve never seen it before, where should I look?”

“I wrote a short missive about it for the Imperial Alchemy Symposium. If you’re interested…” Sinderion retrieved a folded parchment and handed it to Jerric. “The best place for you to look is Shadeleaf Copse, in the Great Forest northeast of here. Do you have a map? Here, I’ll mark it for you. You’ll find it always grows near water. If you find ten samples of at least this size, I should be able to brew a weak version of the Elixir. I would give one to you for your trouble, and of course I would make the rest available at a huge discount.”

“What about growing it as a crop? Do you think that would work?”

“What an interesting idea. I suppose… you would need to give it plenty of water. I do hope you’ll bring any that you find to me, so that I might determine if the recipe even works. Then I could advise you if Nirnroot is suitable for agriculture.”

Jerric felt completely at ease talking to Sinderion. He couldn’t tell if it was his delight over the Nirnroot or just a jovial nature, but the Altmer was a welcome friendly face. He decided he would keep Nirnroot in the back of his mind. “I need to send word to my friend who found this sample. Do you have a sheet of parchment I could buy?”

Sinderion reached into a pile and handed one to Jerric. “With my compliments, in the hope of a long and fruitful association.”

Back upstairs in the inn Jerric fetched his wine and found a table where he could work while he waited for his meal. He carefully wrote out his message to Valus, then he handed it over to Erina with a coin for its postage. He settled in to read.

The Book of Daedra told about the different Daedric princes and their realms, a subject he had not thought much about until recently. The inn was filling up with patrons, but the seat opposite him remained empty. He held the book at arm's length, trying to catch the light and still focus on the writing.

"Is this seat taken?" asked a female voice, high-pitched and flirty. A young Imperial woman with wavy brown hair and blue eyes stood smiling at him with a wine goblet in her hand. She looked as round and soft as a fresh dinner roll. Local girl, he thought. Old enough to know better and young enough not to care, his Ma would say. Jerric gestured to the chair, and she seated herself with a bounce and a giggle over her shoulder. A cluster of what looked to be her friends had their heads together over a nearby table, and Jerric suspected he had become the object of a dare. "I'm Antistia," she said. She pointed to his forehead. "Where did you get that scar?"

Jerric closed the book and leaned back in his chair. I got it on my face, he thought. How long before my food is ready? He glanced over at Erina, but her attention was elsewhere. "I'm Jerric," he said politely, but he ignored the question.

“You look like a fighter,” she observed brightly. “How many people have you killed?” Jerric was dressed for a night on the town, and his shirt still had its buttons. He wondered how she had drawn that conclusion. Then he remembered what his nose looked like.

"Just the ones who needed it.” He thought that this promised to be a boring conversation, so he consoled himself by staring at her chest. “Tell me something about you, Antistia."

She didn’t have anything to say, but that didn’t stop her from talking throughout his meal. The West Weald Inn was full of nicely dressed, well spoken people, and Jerric began to feel like a marauder in merchant’s clothing. It made him itch to punch someone in the face, which of course would only prove that Antistia and her friends had been right about him. After dinner he rose abruptly and left without a proper farewell.

It rained the whole way to The Colovian Rose, but when he got there Jerric found a warm welcome. Everything he saw was something that he liked, and his smile started to hurt his face. “You’re new in town, aren’t you,” his hostess asked. “Have you heard of Servilla? Of course, she’s famous. You’re lucky tonight, if you like she can see you right away.”

He decided to find out what made Servilla famous, and she did see him right away.

Before he returned to the Mages Guild, Jerric stopped back at the West Weald Inn and found it darker, smokier, and louder than before. He picked up his bottle from Erina, and she still did not look happy to see him. When he turned to survey the room he was surprised to hear someone calling his name.

“Jerric! Over here!” It was Maglir. Jerric found there was plenty of room at his table.

“Maglir, that was fast. I thought you were going to ride it out in Chorrol.”

“Didn’t last long, that damned Oreyn had his eye on me.”

“I don’t know him.”

“He’s the Fighters Guild Champion, you’d think he’d have better things to do than pick on an Associate.”

“Well anyway, you’re here now. You must have passed me on the road.”

“The road! I’m a Bosmer. I went through the Reserve.”

“How long did it take you?”

“Oh, four days if I remember. I would have done some hunting, but it rained the whole way.”

“How did you find your way?”

“Kept going downhill. Have you never been in the Imperial Reserve? It’s not hard, unless you’re too much of a city boy.”

“I’m used to the roads, but I’ve always wondered what was out there. Are you good with a map?”

“Does a spriggan squat in the woods?”

“I’m guessing that’s a yes.” Jerric took out his map and the small box with his ink block and brush. “Here, mark what you know.”

Maglir placed some landmarks on Jerric’s map. “I know this route along the base of the mountains well. This part is a big valley. Look, you can’t miss these ruins. Stay away from Hackdirt, that place is bad news. Here, I’ll mark it. You’ll know it by all of the burned buildings.”

“Thanks, Maglir. I hope I get to see it all someday. Say, I found an Ayleid ruin here. Do you know the name of it?”

“Because I’m a mer, I must know the name of every Ayleid pile of rocks?”

“Uh...”

“Well, I do know that one. That’s Ceyatatar. Are you drinking wine? Aren’t you afraid you’ll lose your Nord credentials?”

“Well, we’re in Skingrad. Here, have some if your cup is empty.” Jerric had run out of conversation. He shifted in his chair.

Maglir filled his goblet. “What happened to you, sit on a minotaur horn?”

“Servilla the Serpent.”

“Oh ho! You got her special?” Jerric nodded uncomfortably. “I bet you were surprised.”

“Yeah, I was surprised. I should have asked for the details first. Still, ‘The Serpent,’ I’m sure I’m not the first to guess wrong about that.”

“Hey, that reminds me of a joke,” said Maglir, and Jerric didn’t need to provide any more conversation. When the time came he was happy to tip the rest of the bottle into Maglir’s goblet and head back out into the rain.

This post has been edited by Grits: Jan 22 2011, 07:50 PM

[ureniashtram]

Caught up! And I must say;

Servilla the Serpent? Does that mean she has a one eyed-snake or what?

Loved how you potray Maglir! The descriptions are so good in the West Weals Inn, its almost like you can actually see the interior of that fine establishment! Eagerly waiting for the next update!

[haute ecole rider]

OMG! That scene with the Imperial girl in the West Weald was wonderful, especially when Jerric guessed she was there on a dare!

Servillia the Serpent? Sore butt? Somehow my mind's going in a direction involving whips, cuffs, chains . . . No, stop it right now, girl!

The encounter with Falanu was also very well done. Sinderion's comment about her ties the two together very well in an absolutely delicious way!

[SubRosa]

"Pale as the snow and cold as the grave,"
Hawt!

She had her hands on him again, and his mind was filled with broken glass.
A lovely metaphor!

I got it on my face, he thought.
I love this! Too bad Jerric didn't say that!

so he consoled himself by staring at her chest.
Yep, Jerric is male alright!

“Does a spriggan squat in the woods?”
This is a lovely setting-friendly phrase. Remind me to steal it!

Sounds like Servilla had a serpent up her skirt! No wonder Jerric has a sore bum! Very nice to see a trans character. One does not see them too often in ES fan fiction.


nits:
I’d like to talk to him.
”
Looks like a space got thrown into the end of this line, between your period and quotation mark.

An Almer male stood in the middle of the space
Some thief stole the "t" in Sinderion's race!

[Acadian]

I heartily agree with the wonderfully clever lines that have already been quoted. I also continue to really enjoy Jerric's take on Cyrodiil.

I quite like Sinderion, and was pleased to see that Jerric liked him for the same reasons! That Jerric pondered growing nirnroot as a crop is testimony that he is no dumb Nord.

Antistia was a neat little interlude and fun to read:
'He thought that this promised to be a boring conversation, so he consoled himself by staring at her chest.'
'She didn’t have anything to say, but that didn’t stop her from talking throughout his meal.'

[mALX]

My instant reaction to Servilla's serpent was exactly what SubRosa said - (which, by the way ... reminds me of an experience my character in Fallout: New Vegas had last week with a robot called "Fisto" - nuff said, lol). Great Chapter !!!

[Jacki Dice]

Oh... Servilla the serpent... Makes me wonder is it a garden snake or a boa constrictor? Poor Jerric. I bet he was surprised!

[Thomas Kaira]

Grr! Procrastinating!

I've got some catching up to do...

[Grits]

ureniashtram:I’m glad you’re reading! Thank you for your comments. Maglir is fun, he keeps giving himself more to say.

haute ecole rider: Thank you! Skingrad was a fun place to watch Jerric explore. I think in the future he’ll be a little less reckless, though!

SubRosa: I enjoyed writing about Skingrad. There are such interesting folks there. Thank you, SubRosa! Looks like I ran afoul of the paragraph editing again. D’oh! Thank you for pointing it out so I could fit it.

Acadian: Thank you, Acadian! In this case I have to give Valus Odiil the credit for thinking of growing Nirnroot as a crop, Jerric was asking on his behalf. I have given Jerric kind of a different way of thinking, thank you for noticing!

mALX: “Fisto,” OMG! Thanks, mALX!!

Jacki Dice: LOL! He says he’s done talking about it.

Thomas Kaira: We’ll be here whenever you can get to us. I’m glad you’re still reading!

I had days of trouble over the little tussle in this post. Thank you so much for your help, Foxy!!!



Chapter 6: Going Home Part 6

Jerric and Flash walked along the Gold Road alone in the sunshine. They had left Skingrad with a group of travelers, but all of them had turned off the road or fallen behind. He thought they were approaching Ra’sava Camp. The large rocks ahead on the right looked like an excellent place for an ambush. Jerric took his shield from Flash and wished once again that he had his team of scouts and archers. He asked Flash to wait while he walked ahead.

He wasn’t surprised when a Khajiit wearing fur armor stepped out in front of him. “You’re using my road. The fee is one hundred gold. Pay up, or else,” he said. He had a short sword in his right hand and a dagger in the other.

“Who walks around with a hundred gold?” Jerric moved so that he could see the other side of the rocks. “I don’t have it.”

“Your fee just went up. Put down your sword and leave the horse. Or this one will take your life.” The Khajiit’s teeth were bared in contemptuous grin.

“No good.” Jerric looked around and didn’t see anyone else. “Are you sure you want to die over this?”

“We can play it that way if you like. In fact, that’s how this one prefers it.” His grin widened to a snarl and his ears flattened back as he smoothly advanced in a balanced crouch. He kept his head and shoulders bobbing and weaving to confuse Jerric, and it worked. Jerric drew Chillrend and backed away to open the space. The Khajiit simply flowed into it with feline grace. His fluid motion now included his wrists, and Jerric couldn’t keep up with the multiple angles of his attack. The highwayman’s grin widened to a sneer. “The prey is as slow as it is stupid,” he taunted.

Jerric wished again for the familiar long sword that waited for him at home in Kvatch, and then he realized even that wouldn’t be enough against this enemy. He didn’t have a chance to cast a spell, the Khajiit’s continuously flicking blades kept him far too busy. He knew he was outmatched, and cold fear rose up in his gut.

The highwayman slapped Jerric’s first real thrust away with his sword, swaying aside without moving his feet. His dagger hand was perfectly balanced for the lightening fast counterstrike, and Jerric saw it flash under his shield before he could think to move it. His mind exploded with white-hot pain.

The Khajiit’s dagger had slammed into his side low in the gap where the plates didn’t meet. Jerric’s breath left him, and he reeled with the pain. The highwayman yanked out his blade as he twisted behind Jerric, and he slashed through the unprotected back of Jerric’s thigh even as he whirled past.

Jerric went down heavily onto one knee, and when he couldn’t get back up he knew what the pain was telling him. He’s behind me, Jerric thought. I’m finished.

Then the Khajiit was in front of him again, and Jerric saw that he wanted to face him for the kill. “Now who is going to die over the horse?” he sneered. His jaws were open in a mocking grimace.

I have a chance as long as he wants to play, Jerric thought. Just one chance. “Hey, fur licker,” he wheezed, and that was the limit of his creativity. The second’s pause let him call his Nordic Frost up from deep inside.

“The prey should have stayed home with its mother!” howled the Khajiit. His sword slashed toward his head, and as Jerric ducked down and took the blow on his shield he reached out in a last desperate strike. His hand found the Khajiit’s leg. Frost boomed, and Jerric saw the dagger slice the air in front of his face as the Khajiit flew backward onto the grass beside the road. He followed his frost with lightning spells until he saw that the Khajiit was not going to rise.

Jerric put down his shield and held his side, bracing his other hand against the ground. He closed his eyes to concentrate and felt through the wounds with his magicka, then he healed himself. It took a few potions before he was able to get his leg under him again.

He glanced back to check on Flash, then he walked over and looked down at the Khajiit. His yellow eyes were open and his shallow breaths hissed rapidly through his teeth. Ice glittered over his leg and up his body, and the blood on his lips told of the damage inside. Usually folk were crying out or struggling at the end, and Jerric was fascinated by the ones who were calm.

Jerric picked up the Khajiit’s sword. He didn’t need Chillrend for this. He wondered what would pass through his own mind at the end, or if he would even know it was happening. This time the thought that it was over had come to him as a fact, but then his mind had filled with survival.

The highwayman didn’t flinch when Jerric opened his neck. Jerric stepped back and waited for the life to drain out of him. He watched for the moment when the Khajiit left and the meat stayed behind, but he didn’t know it had happened until he heard the final breath rattle out. Jerric had been told what to believe, but he wondered what it was like to lie on the warm grass one moment and then be somewhere else entirely. He supposed that the dead Khajiit knew the answer now. He dropped the sword when he started shaking.

He went about the chores that come after a kill, pausing to empty his stomach onto the grass. Flash walked over when he whistled, and Jerric gave him a carrot and a long scratch on the withers under the saddle blanket. He adjusted Flash’s packs for the weight of his new salvage, and Flash held still when Jerric rested his face against the horse’s forehead. Jerric missed his team’s noise and camaraderie. He decided that being alone had given him too much time to think.

___

By afternoon they had reached the path to Gnoll’s Meeting Camp. Jerric had slinked out of there with Velwyn like a chastened puppy. That was no way to behave, he thought, even if your most recent acts had likely been vile or at the least disgusting. He gathered his courage and turned down the track.

Flash didn’t flinch when they passed the gallows with their decorative occupant, so Jerric led him down into the camp. He spotted Carmia tending the cook fire and watching the entrance. “I’m looking for a toothless, dirty woman. Have you got one?” he called out in a voice that carried.

Carmia let out her deep belly laugh. “If it’s Foul Festia you want, you’ll be disappointed, she’s moved on. She left word for you, though. She says you’ve ruined her for other men. She says when she sees you next, she’s going to ride like she’s late for market day.”

“Sweet Mara,” said Jerric. “I’ll settle for just a dirty one, then.” Carmia laughed again, and Jerric hugged her around her neck. She smelled of onions, and her breath could knock a mudcrab off a manure pile. With a woman like Carmia, you just had to keep her pointed in the right direction.

“It’s still early. You staying?” she asked.

“Not this time, I’m going to push on until I drop. I think I can make Kvatch by lunch tomorrow if the weather holds. Where’s Lavina? I brought something for her.”

Carmia called her daughter, and she came running barefoot over the dirt. “Jerric the Nord!” she shouted.

Jerric laughed. “I’m sure you’ve met more Nords by now, Lavina.”

Carmia snorted. “You’re The Nord, don’t you know. Not many pay her any mind, and no girls her age to play with.”

Jerric pulled the goods out of his day pack and knelt down. “The doll or the sling?” he asked her.

Lavina stood thinking. Her fingers pulled at her lip, and she looked back and forth between his hands. She started to reach for one, then she reached for the other. “The doll!” she finally decided, and Jerric handed both to her.

“Practice every day with your sling, and you’ll never go hungry,” he told her. “Yours is just like your brother’s, he can show you.” Lavina jumped up and hugged him, then she clutched the doll to her chest. “Any more loose teeth? Show me. Hanging by a thread, ugh. Say, that’s a nice doll. What’s her name?”

“Jerric,” Lavina announced proudly. “Jerric the Doll.”

Jerric shook his head. “All right then, now don’t cry when Jerric gets dirty, just take her to the stream and wash her.” Another squeeze from Lavina and she scampered off.

“You remembered her birthday.” Carmia was pleased.

“It’s in Heartfire, same as my Ma’s. I don’t remember yours though, so don’t get any ideas.”

“It’s First Seed the fourteenth,” she said, and she gave him a playful bump with her hip.

Jerric pointed to his face. “This is what I look like when I’m forgetting.”

Lason had ambled up with a sly grin on his face, and Jerric braced himself. The Redguard didn’t waste any time on preliminaries. “I never took you for a troll-humper, Jerric.”

Jerric gritted his teeth under his smile. “If she’s willing. Who’s your alchemist?”

“Sa-Teega, he’s off somewhere. What do you want?”

“Tell him he better have some pretty words ready when I meet him, or his name will be Eats-My-Fist. I left a trail all the way to Skingrad, and that’s not funny.”

“Hah! It sure sounded like you were having a good time, though.”

“Stendarr’s balls, I did not need to know that.”

“Who improved your looks for you?”

Jerric felt his wreck of a nose. “I wish I remembered so I could thank him. I have to go this time, but I’ll see you soon.”

Lason nodded at Flash. “Aren’t you going to introduce your new girlfriend?”

“Do not disparage my horse.”

Matilene had joined them, and she had some news for Jerric. “Rothmund came around asking about you. I guess you went for a walk and forgot to tell him.”

“Something like that. I was a guest of the Watch. Fetching Imperials, no sense of humor. No offense, Carmia.”

“None taken,” said Carmia.

Lason tapped his knuckles on Jerric’s iron plate. “Where’s your shiny suit? Looks like you’ve come down in the world.” He was enjoying himself.

“It needed some alterations. My stick keeps getting bigger.” He looked around and didn’t see any more of the camp’s residents. “Next time, Matilene.” He took a breath and hugged Carmia again, then he and Flash headed back to the road. He was sure that Carmia, Lason, and Matilene would tell the tale of his shameless return, and he could hold his head up on his next visit.

This post has been edited by Grits: Jan 25 2011, 10:57 PM

[haute ecole rider]

Foxy's always a good one for the combat stuff! As for the bed scenes, wehlll --

The tussle was well-written, especially the vomiting afterwards. Yup, that's the way it goes sometimes.

But I really loved Jerric's return to Gnoll's camp! No trolls this time?

[SubRosa]

Excellent battle with the bandit. Not simply because Jerric was out-matched, but especially so due to the drama you attached to it. You took what is often a very simple act in the game, and even simpler one in many fan-fictions, and gave it real emotional weight. As I said before, you are really coming into your own now. Bravo!

she’s going to ride like she’s late for market day.
Yowzers!

Likewise, Jerric's return to Gnoll’s Meeting Camp was a lot of fun! Very light-hearted and amusing after the grim battle.

[mALX]

Awesome Chapter !!! This has to go into my list of favorite chapters so far !!! My fave line:

her breath could knock a mudcrab off a manure pile. With a woman like Carmia, you just had to keep her pointed in the right direction.

Great Write !!!

[D.Foxy]

1. EXCELLENT combat scene - you have been learning well! KUDOS!

2. mALX and others have already shown their (much deserved) appreciation of your writing skills so I will just add -


DITTO!!!




“It needed some alterations. My stick keeps getting bigger.”

And you, madam, are getting naughtier by the hour!!





This post has been edited by D.Foxy: Jan 26 2011, 02:16 AM

[Acadian]

I love that you don't overflow your story with combat. But by Mara, when you do grace us with a fight, it’s a damn heart-pounder!

I have a chance as long as he wants to play, Jerric thought. Just one chance.
This was both the magic moment and the Khajiit's fatal flaw.

The highwayman didn’t flinch when Jerric opened his neck. Jerric stepped back and waited for the life to drain out of him. He watched for the moment when the Khajiit left and the meat stayed behind, but he didn’t know it had happened until he heard the final breath rattle out. Jerric had been told what to believe, but he wondered what it was like to lie on the warm grass one moment and then be somewhere else entirely. He supposed that the dead Khajiit knew the answer now. He dropped the sword when he started shaking.
For this old paladin, the above passage struck chillingly close to home. I hope you will take that as a compliment to your skill.

*

The scene at Gnolls Meeting Camp was wonderful as well.

“It’s First Seed the fourteenth,” she said, and she gave him a playful bump with her hip.
Jerric pointed to his face. “This is what I look like when I’m forgetting.”
This interchange really showcases your talent at blending dialogue with supporting action. So delightfully natural and real.

[Grits]

haute ecole rider: No trolls at the camp this time, luckily, or he might have installed a lock on his belt and thrown away the key. I’m glad you enjoyed the visit. I appreciate your comment on the tussle, it seemed like this one would be spew-worthy. Thank you for your encouragement, it means a lot to me!!

SubRosa: I can thank Foxy’s guidance for the bandit drama, there were whole layers that I had forgotten to put in that scene above the who does what to whom. I had a lot of fun with the Gnoll’s Meeting section, I’m glad you enjoyed it. I’ve written some more for Abiene while I’ve been struggling with Kvatch, she’ll be back in Jerric’s story soon. Thank you, SubRosa!

mALX: I’m glad you enjoyed it, mALX! You say the sweetest things!!

D. Foxy: Your help is so valuable to me!! I know what goes on during a tea party, but the combat stuff keeps me guessing. Thank you so much, Foxy!! As far as the greaves alterations, I had to get a little naughty in before Kvatch. A whole chapter coming up without any lewd talk or crotch-grabbing. Sigh. It was hard for me.

Acadian: The whole point of the fight was to get to the passage you pointed out. It seemed like something that needed to be addressed. It means a lot to me to hear that it worked for you. Thank you so much for your support! I’m glad you enjoyed Gnoll’s Meeting. I didn’t think of the characters until after Jerric and Velwyn had left, so he had to go back to redeem both of us!



Chapter 7: Kvatch, Part 1


Worry tightened Jerric’s chest as he turned onto the steep Kvatch Road. Acrid smoke had scented the air all morning, and now he could see it. A strange cloud hung high over the city. Sudden storms often swept in and darkened the sky over Kvatch, but he could see that this was no thunderhead. Something was horribly wrong. He clicked his tongue to Flash and increased his pace.

As they turned a corner a wild-eyed Altmer nearly staggered into him. Jerric caught him and steadied him by the arms. "Come on!" the Altmer gasped into Jerric's face. "Run while there's still time! The Guard still holds the road, but it's only a matter of time before they're overwhelmed!"

"Calm, friend!" Jerric gave the mer a shake. "What are you saying?"

"Gods' blood, you don't know, do you? Daedra overran Kvatch last night! There were glowing portals outside the walls! Gates to Oblivion itself! There was a huge creature... something out of a nightmare... came right over the wall... blasting fire. They swarmed around it... killing... Kvatch is a smoking ruin! Everyone else is--"

Jerric let go of the mer and ran up the road. Cold fear gripped him. Every tree and rock that he passed should be welcoming him home, but this time he wasn’t looking. When he reached the wide level place between switchbacks, he found a crowd of people milling around there. Most of them wore night clothes, and many were barefoot. He realized that they had fled from the city.

Jerric dashed through the refugees, searching for beloved faces. There were so few people there, and all of them looked terrified or numb with shock. The children, he thought, where are all of the children? He spotted a familiar figure in a soiled blue gown. It was Sigrid from the Mages Guild. He ran to her, out of breath. "My family," he begged, "Have you seen them?"

Sigrid’s face was streaked with ash and tears. “They’re not here. No one else has come down from the barricade for hours, and I haven’t seen them.”

He braced his hands on his knees and struggled to catch his breath. He had to fight the air past the dread that froze his chest. When he stood Sigrid reached for him with trembling hands. She gripped him as if she thought they both might fall. “Sigrid, think,” he said. He couldn’t keep the panic out of his voice. “When the attack came, where would they go? They must still be in the city.”

"The thing came over the wall, and daedra flooded in through the city gate. Captain Matius got us out behind them. We’re all that's left." Her voice was rough with tears and smoke. “A few made it to the Chapel, and I heard Captain Matius say there are some trapped in the castle, but… They cut us down in the streets, Jerric. They burned us out. Everyone else is dead.” Her voice broke into sobs, and fresh grief flowed down her cheeks.

Jerric shook his head, unwilling to believe it. He dropped her hands and backed away from her. It isn’t real until my own eyes see it, he told himself. “My horse,” he said, pointing down the road. Then he turned and ran the rest of the way up to the city.

When he reached the Kvatch plateau Jerric slowed and stared in raw shock. Red clouds laced with lightning boiled above him, and the mid-day sky had turned to black night. Thunder cracked and rolled over a noise he couldn’t describe. Behind the city wall Kvatch was in flames. His mind recoiled from what he saw in front of the city gate. Great glistening black claws reached up from the ground forming an oval frame that dwarfed the city wall, and a vertical pool of fire swirled within it. The very air crackled with its power. He knew he was looking at the Gate to Oblivion.

Men’s shouts sounded like the cries of small birds under the noise. Jerric’s eyes went to a crude barricade between the road and the gate. He saw a group of soldiers gathered there. Their white surcoats told him that they were Kvatch City Guard. The shouts came from three who were engaged with a scamp and a small clannfear on the open ground in front of the gate. They finished the daedra and fell back to their cover as he watched.

Jerric ran to the guards who were sheltered behind the barricade. One of them turned and stalked toward him. He had lost his helmet, and a band of filthy cloth kept the sweat and blood out of his eyes. He gripped his sword in one hand and waved Jerric back with the other. “Get back to the encampment!" he called. "This is no place for you!" Jerric recognized him. It was Savlian Matius, Captain of the Kvatch Guard.

"My family!" shouted Jerric. He closed the distance to Matius. "They're still in the city!" The Gate’s roar was overwhelming.

"We can't get through with that Gate in the way!" yelled Matius.

Close shut the jaws of Oblivion. Jerric remembered the Emperor's words. "Close it!" He grabbed at Matius, frantic. "We have to close it!"

Matius shrugged him off. "I don't know how, but it must be possible from the other side." He pointed to black marks and ridges that scarred the area around the Gate. "Look there, the enemy closed the ones they opened during the initial attack."

Without a word Jerric sprinted through the barricade and across the violated ground. For a few strides he still heard Matius shouting behind him. One leap carried him through the Gate, and he landed with a jolt on a hill of cracked, blasted rock. Tumbled boulders loomed around him under a scorching red sky. He saw great black walls and tall gates below him, with huge spiked towers jutting up behind them in the distance. Seething rivers of lava sent ribbons of heat and fumes into the air. The Deadlands. Jerric stumbled a few paces, terrified. His packs were still on Flash, and he didn't even have his shield.

He forced the hot air into his lungs and turned to look back at the Gate. It looked the same as it had on the other side, and he couldn’t find any means to close it. The noise was different here, a low, powerful hum. He circled the Gate again, frantically searching for anything that he might have missed. His hope that he could somehow jump back through as it closed drained away, and cold fear flooded in after it.

In front of the Gate again, Jerric turned away to try to gather his thoughts. Now he noticed a charred figure twisted on the ground right at his feet. A long sword lay beside it. The person had been burned until he couldn’t even tell if it had been armored. The fire that haunted his worst nightmares flared to life in his mind. His heart raced, and he felt that the pitiless air was smothering him. His breath came in dry, shallow gasps. Panic tightened his muscles until he felt his arms couldn’t bend. He knelt and tried to bring himself back under control. Sweat ran into his eyes, and when he closed them he braced his shaking hands against the hot ground.

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

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

He heard a shout and a hooting whistle down the hill from his position. A Kvatch guard was running toward him, pursued by a clannfear and scamps. Jerric ran down the hill until he reached the guard, and the man turned beside him to fight. The ground where they met was open and level, and the enemy approaching them was familiar to Jerric. He began to forget his fear when he felt the first scamp’s muscle and bone split open under his blade. He decided to conserve his magicka, and the fight sent his blood singing through his veins. When the clannfear reached them it charged straight at Jerric. He had plenty of room to dodge and thrust his sword into its side behind the bony head frill as it passed. He finished it on the ground and looked for his next target.

The guard was the only thing left standing. Scamps lay in pieces around them, and their blood was splashed over Jerric’s armor. The stench from their spilled insides filled his mouth. Bile rose in his throat, but his tongue was too dry to spit it out. When he felt for his magicka, he silently thanked his stars that he had absorbed some of the scamps’ fire spells.

"Thank the Nine!" gasped the guard. "I never thought I'd see another friendly face." His voice cracked with strain. The man stood heaving with exhaustion and dripping with sweat. Blood and scorch marks stained his white surcoat, but Jerric decided that he moved well enough to go without healing.

Jerric noticed that he still had his day pack, and he got out a canteen and handed it to the guard. He knew that the one on his belt was already empty. “Water,” he said. “I’m Jerric.” Introducing himself made the situation seem more sane.

The guard drank and got his voice back. "I’m Ilend Vonius. Captain Matius sent us in to see if we could close the Gate." Jerric took just enough water to moisten his throat. He pulled Vonius over toward some rocks and crouched down for cover. "The others are dead, and Menien Goneld was captured," Vonius continued."I saw them take him into that tower. We should search for him, he might have learned something of this nightmare place."

“How do we get to the tower? Those gates are blocking the way.”

“We’ll have to go around, down there.” Vonius pointed to a black trail through the rugged terrain. “That’s how I got out. They closed the gates behind us when we were out there on the bridge. Most of us died in the ambush. I got away, and I saw where they took Menien.”

Jerric took a moment to think, his mind had not been clear since he first noticed the smoke. The Kvatch wolf on Vonius’ surcoat brought the burning city back before his eyes. He pushed away the panic for his family and focused on the situation before him. Akatosh guide me, he thought. I am not good with plans. “Go back through the Gate, Vonius," he said. "Tell Captain Matius what you know. If I don’t make it he can send someone else. I'll search for Goneld so we can shut the Gate." Jerric decided not to tell Vonius about Martin. If the priest was still alive he would just have to keep himself that way until Jauffre figured out that Jerric had failed.

Vonius nodded. Weariness and guilt filled his face. "I don't know how you’ll get home if you manage to close it," he said. “I was just trying to get away and go back through the Gate.”

"Tell Captain Matius to give me time to get to that tower. Don't let anyone else get stuck here."

A rumble came from above them. Vonius pushed Jerric to safety and jumped after him as rocks crashed down around them. One clipped the guard's knee, and now there would be no arguing. Jerric healed it only enough to let him stand.

"Take my shield," Vonius said. He gripped Jerric's shoulder in farewell and limped back to the gate. Jerric crouched on the rocky ground and watched him go. The noise hadn't drawn more enemies. Vonius passed through the Gate, and Jerric turned to look at the distant tower.

He had to let go of his fear so it couldn’t take him again. He made himself accept what he had known since he leaped through the Gate. His life would end here under the red sky. He could only hope for one thing at a time, and now it was to find Menien in that tower. But first he'd have a long run through the Deadlands to get there.

This post has been edited by Grits: Jan 29 2011, 06:26 PM