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

[King Coin]

… and many streets were lined with food vendors.
Jerric’s not going to be able to fit into that surcoat.

Now I’m interested in Jerric’s family. Maybe a trip to Skyrim in the far future?

Oh wow. Getting the gear back could have turned out a lot worse.

Hah! The “lucky boots” were still well worth going back for though!

[Olen]

And caught up.... Woo that was long and fun.

First thing - really great characters. They spring to life and have their flaws and strengths. Their interactions are a joy to read. You've created ones who fit together just as often as they don't with great interactions either way. They change too, particularly between Darnard and Jerric who have worn the edges which didn't mesh off each other slowly over the process of the last 14 chapters.

I like how progressive the changes have been too, Kvatch certainly changed Jerric a bit, but there's a lot of the old Jerric there. Darnard has had no real turning point, except possibly with the deadroth and the sirens, but is a very different character now than he was at the start. Jerric has improved him and made him a lot more determined and less reserved, but I think he might have created a bit of a nutter too. His thirst for knowledge, and particularly forbidden knowledge, really leaps off the page but he always seems on the verge of slipping into something a bit darker than is perhaps wise. But always for the right reasons, selling a bit of his vitality for access to vast knowledge makes sense at the time, taking papers from necromancers? Why not, better than burning them. But it all sets precidents. I rather wonder if and when it will bite him or he'll go too far.

Jerric is fun, its so rare to have a hero who is so real. He's fundamentally okay but likes a drink and a fight and a bit of womanising. And he's not the brightest which is a real challenge to write but he flows so perfectly and leaps from the page. His fling with Abienne was great to read, you caught the slight awkwardness of fun slipping towards more when it shouldn't and both them knowing it was happening but not doing anything about it. Really very well written, I can see that little disaster dragging on when they reach Chorrol.

Lildereth is a bit of a wild card, not the sort of character you would associate with the comic pairing of Jerric and Darnard, but one who works well. You have her perfectly pitched, aloof and slightly disant and superior but with the occasional crack showing some of the person within. She has something she wants, and I'm not sure how the other two will take it when they find out.

The final comment I'll make on the piece as a whole is how well you manage to mix the humour and darkness of it together. There's something quite moreish and engaging about how it can go from Jerric being slapstick and inappropriate to really dark sections with him technically murdering and the death of Kvatch. His sister's ring captures that quite well with the humorous inscription but painful memories. It works for this piece.

You have some nice ideas too, connecting restoration and necromancy is novel, but makes sense in a way. Along with a huge number of other things - the women using alteration for her figure, the crowds at the daedric shrines, the real working feel of the towns - it really brings your ambitious version of Cyrodiil to life.


On the subject of this chapter. The plot continues to fascinate, what is Darnard doing in the library, what more will he find, and how bad is that price? The idea of needing fighters to guard sewage workers makes sense and continues to enrich your setting, again I wonder if Jerric will turn up more then he expects.

Great stuff

[Grits]

Athynae: Jerric might not have made a wrong assumption if he had just listened to his mother!! Thank you for the reassurance about the scene with Simeon. There’s no “I am your father” moment coming, Jerric is definitely Kjelling’s son. But there is a story that I hope to explore someday, either with or without Jerric. Learning things about your parents tends to change the way you think of them, and Jerric might not get to a point where he could handle that.

McBadgere: Here’s more without too much delay, since this part was the last part of the previous part, until it all got a little too long. I’m glad that looking through his things had an impact. Even the good memories still bring him kind of a punch in the gut. I am SO in awe of the names in your story, you have inspired me to keep trying until I get one I love! Thank you, McB!

ghastley: The mountainous maiden was definitely a tribute to ghastley’s glorious girls. Fortify Block is a great idea! Sonstra went with the more aggressive choice of getting his strikes in quicker, since her lad was utterly failing to block. I hope I can take him to Skyrim someday. Shields were made for bashing!! They’re all going to be kicking themselves over the Atronach oversight. With bottles of wine on the table, no threat of imminent death, and enjoying each other’s company, they didn’t take the plan very seriously. Thanks for your input on the wording. Assuming that the whole thing is translated is a great way to look at it.

SubRosa: I had the worst time coming up with a clan name. Everything sounded like a male body part joke. (Ha! The censor turned the technical term into “panda bear.”) I blame Jerric’s snickering influence. At first I had Sonstra as a Free-Winter. That one’s my favorite from the game. They sure picked the wrong guy to botch up the charm spell! They could have ended up sending Lildereth notes from prison. Thank you, SubRosa!

mALX: Thank you, mALX! Jerric is also concerned enough about Darnand’s distraction to not even take advantage of it (yet). I’m sure he’ll get Lildereth to find out what’s going on, sooner or later!

Acadian: Eats, roots, shoots, and leaves?! I have been laughing all week about that! I’m glad you enjoyed the little glimpse of Jerric’s Ma. By the time he came along, she had seen it all. I was a little worried about bringing up a mystery and then attempting a side-step, whew! And of course, hearing that something is very Jerric just warms my heart. Thank you, Acadian!

King Coin: Someone’s going to Skyrim, but I’m not sure who or when it will be. The thing I hoped for the most is that Skyrim would provide a good setting for non-dragon Jerric adventures. It really, really has. I need to stop writing when I’m hungry, or send Jerric on a few more laps around the city! Thank you, KC!

Olen: I’m so glad you’re reading! Getting through the whole story up to this point is a major commitment, and I appreciate it so much. Your comments delighted me beyond words, because they show that you really know these characters. I often don’t know why I’m including certain bits that don’t have anything to do with the plot but just let the characters be who they are. I know that I enjoy the many side-trips and diversions, and I’m very glad that so much came across through the wandering. I am especially amazed by how well you get Lildereth, since many of her lines and even scenes get cut out for too much explaining. She is a bit of a mystery even to herself, and the question of what the fellows will do when she finally lets them know what she’s after is also in the front of her mind. I have fretted over the mixture of humor and darkness. I don’t want to make light of events, but Jerric’s humor helps keep him moving forward. Also he does tend to pick the wrong times to take off his pants. I blame him for those parts. Thank you, thank you Olen!


Where we are: Evening in the Imperial City. Jerric spent the morning securing a Fighters Guild contract and making contact with the other of his father’s business partners. Then he and Darnand went to the Imperial Prison and retrieved the items that were left behind when he escaped with the Emperor, including his enchanted boots and ring. Lildereth and Ulfe are off pursuing their own concerns.




Chapter 14: The Imperial City, Part Nine

Back at the King and Queen Tavern, Darnand headed straight to the room while Jerric ordered their dinner. A large group of loosely related Redguards and Imperials had taken over the tavern’s public room for some family celebration. By the time Jerric’s food arrived, they had invited him to join them.

Jerric left his plate and took Darnand’s up. He found his friend deep in study, the small table already layered with his materials. Jerric found a spot for the plate. He decided not to pour him a goblet of wine. Darnand would not thank him if it got spilled on the Commentaries. Neither would Tar-Meena.

After a moment Jerric realized that Darnand was unaware of his presence. He considered his options, then decided to leave him unmolested. He’s working on your behalf, Jerric told himself. If you annoy him, then you’ll have to do it.

The party turned out to be the fiftieth birthday of an apple-cheeked woman who didn’t look a day over seventy. Jerric raised a tankard and wished her fifty more. He ate his meal squeezed on a bench between sisters who laughed, bickered, and drank with equal enthusiasm. Their friendly rivalry brought tears to his eyes. These strangers felt like home. Without even thinking, he kept an arm free for passing the pitchers, cakes, and babies around the table.

When the plates were cleared, Jerric found himself in possession of a particularly solemn and round-eyed specimen. “Story!” the toddler demanded.

It was decided that it was indeed Jerric’s turn to share an adventure. He wiped the lad’s nose on his sleeve, tucked him under an arm, and told the tale of Savlian Matius and the Heroes of Kvatch.

Later he turned down some very tempting offers in favor of doing the laundry. It was true what they said: a warrior may draw the maidens’ eyes, but it’s the bard who makes their panties slide off.

He returned to their chamber to find Darnand hunched over a sheet of parchment, his food untouched. It looked like he was writing a letter.

“Who are you writing to?” asked Jerric, stringing a line across the room. He began to hang their linens to dry.

“Abiene. I hope it will reach her before we do.”

“Oh, write something for me.”

Darnand readied the quill. “Go ahead.”

“‘I wish you were here to look after Darnand,’” Jerric said in a sing-song tone. “‘He needs someone to remind him he should eat and change his socks.’” Darnand placed the quill on the table and reached for his plate. Jerric grinned. “What did you make of those books?”

“I am left with a great desire to study the Mysterium Xarxes itself. Mankar Camoran’s ambitions seem to be based upon realistic expectations. He must possess terrible knowledge and power, beyond what a mortal could achieve even in an Altmer’s lifespan. I believe that Dagon’s book might be the source.”

Jerric turned back to his work to hide his thoughts. He should have foreseen the depth of Darnand’s interest, but it still surprised him.

“I realize, however, that such an opportunity is unlikely to arise,” Darnand continued. He produced a slip of parchment while he chewed. “The four keys are Camoran’s four volumes. The illuminated letters at the heads of what I loosely describe as chapters spell out the beginning of a message. As Tar-Meena told you, I expect that the message will provide a clue or instructions for actually joining the Mythic Dawn.”

“Ha! I knew you could do it.” Jerric took the note. “Green emperor way where,” he read. The cold potatoes on Darnand’s plate tempted him. He took a seat at the table.

“There is more. Tar-Meena indicated to you that these books are contemporary with Tiber Septim. That is simply not the case. Though these volumes are charmed against wear, they still do not seem four hundred years old. My suspicions were confirmed when I found references to events that have occurred since that time. Tar-Meena would not make such an error. I must conclude that she first studied earlier volumes, and these are later editions.” Darnand gave him a look. “I warn you, I will elaborate at great length and detail with only the slightest encouragement.”

Jerric quickly schooled his expression. He had a lot of questions for Darnand, but the exact age of an old book was not among them.

“This becomes a concern only if the illuminated letters have changed,” Darnand continued. “I can easily imagine that Camoran could not resist expanding upon his original work when a reprinting became necessary. In any case, the newer version is more likely to provide the correct clues.”

“There’s a Green Emperor Way here in the Imperial City,” said Jerric.

“Yes. I doubt that cultists have concealed a shrine there. However, I know that you will insist upon searching.” Darnand seemed to struggle with his next words. “Would you like me to assist you?”

Jerric briefly considered saying yes just to tease him. “No,” he sighed. “You’re right. About it being pointless to search without the rest of the clue, and about me trying anyway. I have a contract to do some guard work for the Fighters Guild, so I’ll look around when I pass through that part of the city. You keep doing whatever has you looking so frail.”

Jerric sighed again when Darnand didn’t rise to the bait. “How about the poem book?” Jerric asked. “Need any help translating?”

Darnand looked surprised. “You speak Dunmeris?”

“Well, I could order a drink, curse your mother, or talk to a harlot anywhere in Tamriel. Course there are a few things about Argonians that we don’t have words for, and you have to talk around the subject in Aldmeris.”

Darnand almost smiled. “Thank you, but no. I expect I will prevail, with sufficient study.”

“Ha! That’s one way to say it. I guess the drawings help with your study.”

Darnand replied with a nod and raised eyebrows as he put away another Nord-sized bite.

Jerric took a moment to think. The Mythic Dawn’s code had yielded its message. All that remained was to find the final books to complete it. There was nothing to be done about that tonight, but Jerric still had Darnand’s attention.

Jerric leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms. Darnand made a go-ahead gesture with his fork.

“All right,” said Jerric, “here’s something. If summoned zombie slime dissipates when the geas lifts, why does the stink hang around?”

“That is an excellent puzzle. I have my solution. I would like to hear yours.”

Thinking about it was more entertaining than being told, Jerric decided. He leaned forward so he could concentrate better. “How about this. If a skeleton drops its weapon right before it goes back, the weapon stays. So I guess the weapon isn’t part of the summoning, it’s carried by it. So the slime must be part of it, but the stink gets carried along, like an axe.”

Darnand’s face registered pride and approval. “Your explanation stands. I need not improve upon it.”

That’s how I felt when he finally did some pushups, thought Jerric. “Ha!” he grinned. “If you were my teacher, I might have stayed in school.”

“I am surprised that you had not already answered this question. As a battlemage you are expected to pursue a broader arcane education.”

“I was a caravan guard, I had to learn to use my blades and shield first. Fetching archers wouldn’t wait while I meditated on books. Then I was busy with work. Plus it takes time to keep up with the drinking. I guess now I can learn what I want. You know, Sigrid says I’m a natural at alchemy, but Carahil says I have a gift for conjuring.”

“They are both wrong, and a little right. You are a natural mystic.”

Jerric had a good laugh. Then he noticed that Darnand was still silent. “You’re serious? All right, explain it.”

“Mysticism deals with the nature of magic itself. The fact that you are a Master of Alchemy despite your appalling technique is an indicator. Not to mention you can use ingredients that are completely unknown to you, while I spend hours learning the charts in books. It is most infuriating. Then there is your control over your summonings. It is the geas, your bound dagger is nothing special. Most annoying of all, you can read enchantments as readily as breathing. I envy that.”

“I don’t even know one mysticism spell. I think I’m best at destruction. My frost spells work without me even calling them anymore, like sneezing when your nose tickles. I sure enjoy destruction the most.”

“The schools of magic are our own invention. How we categorize our spells does not affect their nature. Your Nord blood carries the potential to use Nordic Frost and Woad. Destruction and shield magic were always a part of you. Then at birth when the stars marked your soul, they made you a mystic. Consider this: you can wring the magicka from my fire spells without consciously doing anything. That is the Atronach.” He shrugged. “It is only a theory.”

“So I’m what in this story, an arcane washerwoman? Darnand, you are a wonder. How do you think of these things? Why do you think of them?”

“You snore, kick, and shout half of the night. At the best of times you merely break wind and fondle yourself. Pondering the enigma that is a Nord mage keeps me from murdering you in your sleep.”

Darnand’s remark about his soul brought up more questions, but the Breton had already pushed aside the empty plate and turned back to his writing.

Jerric reached for the wine. “A mystic. Only you, Darnand.”

[mALX]

You snore, kick, and shout half of the night. At the best of times you merely break wind and fondle yourself. Pondering the enigma that is a Nord mage keeps me from murdering you in your sleep.”

This had me rolling, Darnand has summed up Jerric perfectly here! I loved the conversation about Jerric being a mystic - shows besides the above quote, Darnand really thinks deeply about his friend. Jerric's worry about Darnand came through clearly in this chapter. The two could be brothers for that deep bond, really Awesome Write !!!

[ghastley]

“‘I wish you were here to look after Darnand,’” Jerric said in a sing-song tone. “‘He needs someone to remind him he should eat and change his socks.’”

This just perfect encapsulates the attitude all three have to one another. They all think that the others would be helpless without them, and they're partly right, they do fill the gaps the other leave.

Darnand’s face registered pride and approval. “Your explanation stands. I need not improve upon it.”

That’s how I felt when he finally did some pushups, thought Jerric.

But those gaps are shrinking a bit.

I wonder what Ulfe thinks of them?

[Olen]

Nice to see Jerric finding some surrigate family to be with after remembering his mother a little too freshly. Little things like that really help flesh out the characters, I'm sure normally Jerric would exchange a few words but not get so involved, but this time perhaps the invite wasn't unsaught. It shows the family man side to him and the vulnerability that's left in its wake.

I am left with a great desire to study the Mysterium Xarxes itself.

Why am I not surprised, that couldn't possibly end badly could it... This desire for power in Darnard and the rather more aggressive and less legal persuit of it is something Jerric has awoken I suspect. It will be interesting to see where it leads, perhaps he'll stop soon enough but I suspect he'll go to far (and possibly already has), how badly it burns him is another question.

Then we have Jerric considering magical puzzles and getting an answer. Something of Jerric rubbing off on him. They certainly complement eachother, as friends should.

“Well, I could order a drink, curse your mother, or talk to a harlot anywhere in Tamriel. Course there are a few things about Argonians that we don’t have words for, and you have to talk around the subject in Aldmeris.”

I love the humour Jerric has, it's probably half true too. You do it very well, it fits the forum restrictions fine but encourages the reader to fill in the blanks...

[Acadian]

This was just chock full of goodness!

A magnificent description you provided of the birthday table and festivities. A wonderful example of your efficient ability to so delightfully capture a whole mood and scene with a few well-chosen evocative sentences.

Big grins on the warrior versus bard, and their differing effects on maidens’ wandering eyes and sliding panties.

A bonus mention of Abiene to help make up for Lildereth’s absence.

Fascinating stuff on the varying schools of magic. And what fabulous observations Darnand makes about the sleeping habits of his friend.

[King Coin]

After a moment Jerric realized that Darnand was unaware of his presence…
Typical Jerric, though I think despite the perfect opportunity, he made the right call.

Jerric’s addition to Darnand’s letter was good.

Hah, Darnand’s warning about elaborating in great detail was perfect!

Jerric? A natural mystic? That doesn’t fit the image of a heavy drinking, prostitute chasing Nord that is Jerric.

This post has been edited by King Coin: Mar 27 2012, 12:23 AM

[McBadgere]

Ye Gods I love this story... ...

From the roomfull of birthday guests to the intimate chat with just the two of them, it was sooo brilliantly done...Beautiful stuff...

Must go on a quote-fest....

The party turned out to be the fiftieth birthday of an apple-cheeked woman who didn’t look a day over seventy

Lol!!...

Later he turned down some very tempting offers in favor of doing the laundry. It was true what they said: a warrior may draw the maidens’ eyes, but it’s the bard who makes their panties slide off.

Wha-hey!!..Loved that...Made I laugh... ...

“Mysticism deals with the nature of magic itself. The fact that you are a Master of Alchemy despite your appalling technique is an indicator. Not to mention you can use ingredients that are completely unknown to you, while I spend hours learning the charts in books. It is most infuriating. Then there is your control over your summonings. It is the geas, your bound dagger is nothing special. Most annoying of all, you can read enchantments as readily as breathing. I envy that.”

Beautiful magic talkingness...Loved the thought that goes into everyone's interpretation of magic...Brilliant stuff...

So I’m what in this story, an arcane washerwoman?

Well...The images... ...

Loved it, as ever...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

[SubRosa]

The party turned out to be the fiftieth birthday of an apple-cheeked woman who didn’t look a day over seventy.
Doh!

It was true what they said: a warrior may draw the maidens’ eyes, but it’s the bard who makes their panties slide
Yep, and if he learned to play the guitar, those panties would not slide off, they would burn off!

an arcane washerwoman?
On a completely unrelated note, this makes me think of the Celtic legends of the Washer At The Ford. It is a premonition of doom, where someone sees an old woman washing their clothing at a ford. They always die soon after. Often that woman is The Morrigan.

An interesting discussion about Jerric being a natural mystic. That explains why he can do so much magic at all, when he spends so much of his time drinking, screwing, and fighting rather than actually studying or practicing, as Darnand has to do.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Mar 27 2012, 06:42 PM

[Grits]

mALX: Thank you, mALX! No matter how close they get, Jerric is still an unsavory roommate. After all, no one farts on your head quite like a brother.

ghastley: Thank you, ghastley, you brought out what I was hoping to show about each of them caring for the others and letting themselves be cared about in return. I expect that Ulfe thinks one of them smells a lot more interesting than the rest!

Olen: Thank you Olen, you have drawn out the things here that are so important to me, and it means a lot to know that they came through. I’m always at risk of over-explaining, and nervous that I cut out the wrong parts.

Acadian: Thank you, Acadian! I loved putting Jerric at that party table. He’s not a very good loner. It was fun to show some of who he used to be. There’s a little more of that in this section.

King Coin: Thank you for appreciating Darnand’s warning! That was such a Darnand moment, and those are rare. Jerric doesn’t see himself as a mystic either – he’s still shaking his head over that one.

McBadgere: Thank you, McB! If Jerric ends up at the Bards College, we’ll know what he’s planning.

SubRosa: You highlighted what I was hoping to show with the mystic discussion, that Jerric has taken to the magic that comes easily and made little or no progress in the areas that do not. He has years of practice, but very little study. Thank you, SubRosa!


Where we are: The crew has been in the Imperial City. Jerric met with Baurus and made a plan to search Cyrodiil’s book stores for the remaining two books of Mankar Camoran’s Commentaries of the Mysterium Xarxes. Darnand looked at the first two volumes and already cracked the code. Darnand and Lildereth did some enchanting at the Arcane University. Jerric got his belongings back from the Imperial Prison. Lildereth accepted the task from Martina Floria to bring her ten Welkynd stones in trade for advanced Illusion training. Darnand has been exchanging his life energy for access to an ancient library. Jerric has been crawling through sewers for the Fighters Guild to refill the coin purse. The animals have been relaxing in Acadian’s wonderful Valley of Horses. I’ll let Jerric take it from here.



Chapter 15: Chorrol, Part One


Jerric leaned against Aelwin’s fence watching the sun drop in the sky. Nerussa’s tavern and the Weye market square offered too many temptations, and so he had spent much of the day loitering with the horses in Aelwin’s stable yard. The old man had been cheerful company, but now he was inside his cottage having an afternoon rest. The quiet gave Jerric too much opportunity for thought.

Darnand and Lildereth had left before dawn on the previous day bound for some Ayleid hole that Lildereth had scouted. They were to collect Welkynd stones in the ruin while Jerric fulfilled the last day of his Fighters Guild contract. They would meet in Weye. Jerric had gathered up the animals this morning according to the plan. Now all he had to do was wait and wonder.

Foot traffic was sparse enough that Jerric could watch folk as they came into view between the low buildings. He pictured Darnand’s robed figure walking briskly with head down, then bent under the weight of an overloaded pack, and even limping with the aid of his staff. None of these variations answered his silent summons. He tried to imagine Lildereth, but he had no idea how her small form would look approaching. The elf had a habit of popping out of thin air right underfoot.

If they’re not here by the time Magnus touches the mountains, I’ll set up our camp, Jerric decided. They’ll be tired, and we can still get ahead of the traffic in the morning.

Fetch it, he thought a moment later. I’m going to go see what’s happening right now.

By the time he got his greaves buckled, Darnand and Lildereth were visible on the road. Jerric leaned against the fence again, grinning when he saw that they were whole and unbloodied.

“Three stones,” Lildereth said as they approached. He caught a glimpse of nerves before her face lit up at Ulfe’s joyful greeting.

Darnand stopped in front of Jerric, his expression tense and solemn.

Jerric sniffed for hints of mort flesh. “Anything rotting in your pack that I should know about?”

“We put them to rest,” said Lildereth. Her eyes slid to Darnand and then away. “Zombies. It was close. I misread the life signs. There were more than I expected.”

“She was magnificent under attack,” Darnand told him. “She stood her ground and kept shooting. The last one fell at her very feet.”

“Consumed by Darnand’s fire,” Lildereth added, a gleam in her eyes.

Comprehension killed Jerric’s next question. “And then you two humped each other silly.”

Darnand rubbed a hand over his face.

Lildereth shrugged one shoulder. “Sometimes it happens.”

“Not when I’m there. Dammit! What about Howling Cave? That was tense enough, and no humping after. And Fort Strand, that’s as close as it gets. I know I could have used some relief. What the hells, Darnand?”

The Breton looked aghast. Lildereth snorted.

Jerric shook his head. “I’m jesting,” he told Darnand. “Gods’ bones, you could crack an ironnut right now, I’d wager. I can’t see how you trust me with your life, but not the sanctity of your orifices.” He caught Lildereth’s look. “Yeah, I know what that means. I read it in a book.”

Lildereth moved to where Jerric had piled their gear and began shifting things between the packs. Darnand looked away from her.

Jerric watched for a moment. He tried not to let disappointment color his tone. “You’re leaving us, I take it?”

“I’m taking these stones back to Martina. There’s no sense carrying them around. I’ll catch up to you on the road, but not for a couple of days at least. Perhaps in Chorrol.”

Ulfe pressed her jaws against Jerric’s belly, grinning up at him. Jerric obliged with a vigorous throat scratch. “Sure, I’ll miss you too, Ulfe.”

“You’re hauling some of my gear for me,” Lildereth said without looking up. “There’s no need to squeeze out a tear just yet.”

“You’ll be moving fast, then?” Jerric asked. “Or you want to start light because you’ll have pelts to carry?”

Lildereth shot him a cool glance as she shouldered her pack. Jerric knew that was all the explanation he would get from her.

“There’s talk of a Gate along the Black Road,” Darnand announced, apparently to his feet.

Lildereth was suddenly in front of Jerric, squeezing one of his hands in hers. She looked up with an expression that was a little bit tender, a touch hopeful, but mostly composed of concern and regret. Then she turned toward the bridge without speaking. Ulfe sneezed on Jerric’s hand before she romped away after the elf.

“Yeah,” Jerric called after them. “You, too. And be careful with my dog!”

By the time Jerric looked over at Darnand, the Breton had finished his careful study of the grass.

“Well?” said Jerric.

It took a moment for Darnand to find his voice again. “Gods,” he finally managed.

Jerric shook his head and went to get the horses.

Tacking up was accomplished with minimal talk. Aelwin appeared with some stale-smelling sandwiches. Jerric’s thanks reflected his affection for the giver more than appreciation of the gift. In a short time they were mounted and proceeding up a narrow lane toward the Red Ring Road.

“How was the job?” Darnand asked before Jerric could start another conversation.

“It was Imga balls, just like the first two days. Nothing to eat, nothing to look at, and nothing to fight that I couldn’t just kick to death. The Imperial City Commission of Water and Sewers does not employ attractive dreck-scrapers, and don’t get me started on the smell.” Jerric prepared to launch his questions.

“Good morning, ladies,” Darnand called out, an act so bizarre it made Jerric stare at him. They made room for the approaching group of pedestrians to safely pass.

“It’s well past mid-day,” Jerric started to tell him, but Darnand and Banner had dropped back behind Flash. They maintained that position all the way past Fort Nikel until Jerric signaled a stop for the night.

They moved quickly to set up camp and settle the horses before sundown. Dry sandwiches were eaten fireside without comment. By now the silence had grown too thick between them, and Jerric was not inclined to break it. He guessed that Darnand’s no doubt frantically surrendered virginity might be causing him anxiety, but tonight Jerric was too close to his own troubles to distract himself with Darnand’s.

“It is your family that disquiets you,” Darnand said without preamble. “You have been twisting that ring around on your finger all evening.”

Jerric felt instantly relieved. Thoughts came in a rush, now that he did not fear to admit them. “I know they’re kept alive in my memory, but that’s no comfort. My niece Fjirsten, she was just as bright as a new drake and twice as promising. I’m the only one left who remembers the day she was born. Everything she was, everything she could have become is entrusted to this leaky vessel.” He thumped his forehead with a fist. “Little things are already fading. How will I know what I’ve forgotten when it’s gone? I was the least of them, Darnand. I never could get the words out of my head onto a page, and I didn’t let it bother me. Now I curse myself for this weakness.”

“Tell me their stories, and I will write them.” Darnand’s face was solemn in the firelight.

Jerric didn’t dare to hope. “To what purpose? And you don’t have time for that. You’re always working, even when you should just collapse.”

“That is an accurate statement. However, I shall make some time to ease your mind. There need not be a purpose, or an end. Say the words, and I will write them. I want to know your niece Fjirsten as if she was my own. We begin tonight.”

Jerric watched Darnand assemble his materials. He couldn’t have spoken at that moment if he tried. By the time Darnand was ready, he had wiped his face and taken a swallow of water.

“On the morning of Sun’s Height the fourth in the year 425, a child of Kyne was born in the West Weald.” Jerric could hear that his voice was low and strong, like his fa’s. He stood aside in his mind and let the words come. “Fjirsten Kolrsdaughter, born of Svanja, my sister. She was Svanja’s first, and she took her time coming. I had heard my sister swear, but never before like she did all that night. We knew her curses didn’t work when she grew big with her second child, but that’s another story. When my turn came to hold the baby, I took her outside to let her taste the wind. Even on the Kvatch plateau…”

Jerric’s voice continued into the night, and Darnand’s quill captured his memories. The images called up before Jerric’s eyes were more real than the fire in front of him. But tonight they brought no sorrow.

[King Coin]

Jerric worrying over Darnand and Lildereth in the beginning was just what I’d expect from him. Nothing worse than waiting. Then he finds out Darnand and Lildereth were having fun without him. Poor Jerric’s maybe a smidge jealous now?

Darnand shows he’s a true friend at the fireside. Maybe Jerric will begin to rest easier.

[Acadian]

Your opening paragraph efficiently and beautifully pulled us right into the scene and Jerric's head. I loved his perfect vision of an approaching Darnand and that the best he could come up with for Lildereth was a ‘poof – there she is’ image.

“Three stones,” Lildereth said as they approached. He caught a glimpse of nerves before her face lit up at Ulfe’s joyful greeting.’
Beautifully put and, after all, three stones beats a pair.

Dungeon humping!

‘How will I know what I’ve forgotten when it’s gone?’
Wow! Sometimes Jerric stuns me with his simple and clear perceptions. It was then Darnand’s turn to show the mettle of his friendship for the Nord as he selflessly helped Jerric bring his memories to life.

‘The images called up before Jerric’s eyes were more real than the fire in front of him. But tonight they brought no sorrow.’
Wow again! What a large step Jerric took this night by the fire. I'm so proud of him - and Darnand.

As ever, Jerric, Darnand, Lildereth and Ulfe were totally true to who they are - the wonderful characters we have grown to love. You paint them perfectly with every action they take and every word they speak (or bark). This was a such a beautiful episode and pure joy to read!

[McBadgere]

Amazing stuff...

Although...Lildreth and Darnand? ...Really?...Methinks there's another story there... ...

But it was very cool to see Jerric's attempt to appear not jealous...Having been in similar situations many years ago (the girl/jealousy stuff, not the dungeon crawling passion btw ), I know how damned difficult it would be for him... ...

Aaamywho...

Always love Ulfe, sweet puppy... ...

And the reunion and parting were as cool and very demonstrative of their affection for each other...Bless them... ...

The whole last section with Jerric getting emotional about losing the memories, and Darnand offering to write them down was just brilliant...Absolutely loved it...

Don't leave us so long without, next time eh?... ...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds massively heartily*...

[SubRosa]

So, stones, humping, and sanctified orifices. Sounds like an ordinary day for the Terrible Trio. Though Darnand and Lildreth is a pairing I had not seem coming. Actually, Lildreth and anyone is not a pairing I ever saw coming. I suppose we will have to wait and see if it was just excess adrenaline, or if there is actually something there.

It was Imga balls
Ewww. Then again, killing crabs and rats in the sewers is pretty disgusting work.

Plus some quality man on man time at the fireside. Without orifices.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Apr 20 2012, 04:36 PM

[ghastley]

Only three Welkynd stones from the whole dungeon? I don't remember any of them being that mean, unless I'd forgotten going there before! No wonder they needed another reward.

I can just imagine Darnand explaining to Jerric that he thought he was only going to have a quickie with Lildereth to celebrate their victory, but she told him he needed more practice.

[Olen]

Wow, the depth of your characters always manages to surprise me. They have so much to them and so many subtle traits which make them real.

Lildreth is an interesting one. I'm not entirely surprised by her pairing with Darnard but I don't think it's anything. I agree with SubRosa that she doesn't seem like the type to be pairing, but in many ways she isn't. Similar to the time with Jerric, the mood takes her and she does, but it doesn't mean anything. Makes me wonder why though, is there some reason or is that just how she is? There's a lot to her we haven't seen. Also how clingy will Darnard become, and how will it change him.

Yup there's certainly a lot going on with your characters, and I'm sure Chorrol won't simplify things.

[mALX]

I absolutely loved this whole paragraph. It is so inconsistant for Jerric to wait while Darnand dungeon dives, so instantly I was worried for Darnand without him. But Jerric's visions and musings had me rolling even with the worry.

Foot traffic was sparse enough that Jerric could watch folk as they came into view between the low buildings. He pictured Darnand’s robed figure walking briskly with head down, then bent under the weight of an overloaded pack, and even limping with the aid of his staff. None of these variations answered his silent summons. He tried to imagine Lildereth, but he had no idea how her small form would look approaching. The elf had a habit of popping out of thin air right underfoot.

Darnand finally explored strange new worlds, sought out new life...boldly went where no Jerric has gone before! WOOOOOOT !!!

Loved the ending, where Jerric is logging his memories of Fjirsten Kolrsdaughter. Was she just eight when she died? Very touching ending to an Awesome Chapter!! Great Write!

[Grits]

Folks, there was another delay. I thank you for your patience.

King Coin: Thank you, KC! The fireside scene showed my favorite side of Darnand. Thank you for drawing attention to it, and for appreciating him!

Acadian: I thought of you with a smile when I wrote about Lildereth’s under the radar approaches. Three stones! That one skipped right by me. Thank you for noting Jerric’s giant step with Darnand’s quiet assistance. I appreciate your encouraging words so much.

McBadgere: I’m glad that Jerric’s awkward attempt to dispel the awkwardness rang true. That part was painful to write! The fireside scene is the one I was squeaking delightedly about when Julianos found Darnand’s book in KotNNK. I’m still grinning like a fool over that!! Thank you, McB!

SubRosa: Jerric’s full “Imga balls” remark did not make the edit, so I’m glad it was still crude enough to express his message. Lildereth and Darnand is a pairing that they didn’t see coming! They’re not ready to pick out china just yet. Thank you, SubRosa!

ghastley: “Well, we would have been back hours ago, but she’s a perfectionist.” Poor Darnand missed out on Juliana’s tender care, but that’s probably for the best since Gweden holds bad memories for him. That little Ayleid hole in the ground with only three stones was a Grits invention. Thank you, ghastley!

Olen: Your comments are so very encouraging! The things that you are wondering about Lildereth are the same questions that the fellows have about her. Whew! One of the many things I admire about your writing is your restraint in the information that you offer about characters. Trying not to info-dump makes me wonder if I’m getting Lildereth’s character across, especially when she does things that are surprising. Thank you so much!

mALX: Yes, Fjirsten was eight when she died at Kvatch, the same age as Carmia’s daughter Lavina (the little girl from Gnoll’s Meeting Camp). Good grief you’re right, Darnand managed to hook up with one of the few people who could not compare him to Jerric! Oh, except for that time they all went swimming in Aravi’s Oblivion video thread. About that, Darnand would like to point out that the water was very cold and he does not have frost resistance. Thank you, mALX!


Where we are: On the Black Road to Chorrol. Lildereth took off with Ulfe, saying she would find them on the road. Jerric and Darnand managed to avoid talking about Darnand and Lildereth. Darnand took on the project of writing down Jerric’s memories.



Chapter 15: Chorrol, Part Two


Jerric and Darnand turned onto Troll Rock Lane at the same easy pace they had kept up since lunch. The weather had been fine and traffic light for days along the Black Road. Now they would reach the Odiils’ farm with daylight to spare. Jerric planned for them to spend the night with the Odiils, then head on to Weynon Priory in the morning. They should reach Chorrol tomorrow night. There was no need to push the horses.

“It’ll be a cold wash outdoors again, I’m afraid,” Jerric said, “but we can count on a hot meal. These Imperials will feed us like kings. Plenty of deer come to eat their crops. They have venison on the table most nights, I’d wager. No ale or wine, though. Odiil does his drinking in town. Never did ask why.”

“I will not miss setting up camp tonight,” said Darnand. “Or standing watch. I suppose we have that Oblivion Gate to thank for the empty road. However, I maintain that what ruffians remain will be all the more desperate as a result of their recent shortage.”

“Yeah. And even with the Gate closed, there could still be daedra about. The time you let down your guard is when enemies attack. We’ll sleep hard behind solid walls tonight, though we’ll be unnecessarily sober. These boys are good company, but what I wouldn’t give for a hot bath, a pitcher of mead, and a woman who can breathe under water.” Jerric slapped his thigh, earning an ear flick from Kip. “Hey! The Jewel of the Rumare! I can’t believe I didn’t think of that before!”

Darnand did not reply on that subject. “Though I am relieved that the Oblivion Gate closed on its own before we arrived, I am unsettled by the implications. Had we reached it only hours earlier, you would certainly have entered and been trapped in the Deadlands. To what purpose was it opened?”

“I don’t know, Darnand.”

His friend glanced over with the hint of a smile. “Of course you do not. I apologize for voicing the question yet again. I cannot purge this mystery from my mind.”

Darnand was right; Jerric had missed being stranded in the Deadlands by some unknown grace or sheer luck. Letting his thoughts drift backward would not help him. Still, his friend kept picking at the puzzle like a nearly healed knuckle scab. Jerric scratched his head to help himself think.

“Well, maybe they were moving from one place to another on this side. I went through a Gate in a high meadow west of here, when I was wandering, and there was a second Gate open in the Deadlands. I could see it as soon as I got there. No way could it have led back to County Chorrol, I would have seen it in the meadow. Maybe it didn’t even go to Cyrodiil. So if they wanted to move from, say, here to Black Marsh, a short trip through the Deadlands would be the quickest way.”

Darnand was staring at him.

Jerric felt a little embarrassed. “That’s probably not what they did. Forget I said it. Never mind.”

“On the contrary, your idea is plausible. Creating a sigil stone requires many souls and the effort of Mehrunes Dagon himself. However if my sources are correct, the Gates can be opened with a fairly simple ritual once the sigil stone is acquired.” He held up his palm in a warding gesture. “You need not admonish me. I have no desire to test that theory.”

“Yeah,” said Jerric. “And maybe they closed the Gate when their work was done. Whatever it was. To save the stone.”

Troll Rock Lane had been in very light use the last time Jerric had travelled it, but now it seemed deserted. The blanket of decaying leaves on the road muffled the horses’ footsteps. When the Odiils’ cottage came into view, Jerric signaled a halt.

“What is it?” Darnand sounded more curious than alarmed.

“I don’t know. Let’s just watch for a moment.” He pulled off a gauntlet and slipped on his life detection ring. A swirl of magicka betrayed Darnand’s hasty spell. A quiet cast required more effort, and they were in full view already. Jerric began to voice his concerns.

“No smoke from the chimney. Storm litter in the front garden. Someone should have picked up those branches.” Another swirl told Jerric that Darnand was extending the range of his spell. “I can see corn stalks in the upper field. They should have winter crops in by now. Onions. Cabbages. Maybe some leeks. Not corn.” Now he was just stalling. “The door is boarded up. They’re not here, Darnand.”

His friend gave him a look. “There are no life signs.”

Jerric nodded. “Let’s go see.”

The barn door was boarded over as well. Summer crops had rotted in the fields. After he made his investigations, Jerric joined Darnand and the horses where they waited by the well.

“I can’t tell what happened,” said Jerric. His gut felt sick with worry. “Goblins, daedra, or maybe they just moved after a break-in. You know, some fetchers out marauding.”

“If they were attacked by daedra, I would expect to see signs of a fire.”

“Yeah,” said Jerric. “You’re right. Plus they’ve been gone since not long after I was here. Never even got their harvest in. That Gate opened just a week ago.” He reached one arm under Flash’s neck and the other under Kip’s for comfort. “When I was here before, I helped them kill some goblins. If the goblins’ tribe came around looking… Well, they offered me their best sword, and I took it. Chillrend. Couldn’t even hang onto it, I told you how I lost it in the lava. Dammit!” He looked up at the sky.

“Shall I say it? I do not believe that the words will help.”

“No, but thanks. Look, we should fill up our waterskins if the well hasn’t been fouled. Camp out at the Black Road. We won’t make the priory by dark, and I’d rather not sleep here. The elf might be looking for us.”

“I have replenished our water supply. We still have travel rations. I suggest we break camp early in the morning and plan to spend additional time at the priory. Perhaps the monks will have news of the Odiils. We should take the opportunity to refresh ourselves there, so that in Chorrol we might present a less travel-worn appearance.”

Jerric smiled to himself. “Did you just call me scruffy?”

“Unkempt,” said Darnand. “Bedraggled.”

Jerric swung up into his saddle. “I’ll take the first watch.”

They made camp near the road. After they saw to the horses, Jerric set up the tent while Darnand gathered firewood. The sky looked like it would stay clear, but the Breton seemed to rest easier under shelter. It made no difference to Jerric. He slept with his head by the door so he could see the stars.

Jerric shook his head no when Darnand started to assemble his writing materials. Tonight it would be unwise to think about his family. He felt as if he was on unsteady footing, trying to avoid too many things while reaching for something he couldn’t see. This close to Chorrol even thoughts of Abiene brought tension. Darnand retrieved a book and withdrew to the tent. It was his habit to read in the dark with his nighteye spell. Only one book, thought Jerric. He must really be tired.

Jerric relieved himself into the bushes and prepared to stand his watch. The low fire should keep animals away, but it surrounded the camp with a wall of darkness. He moved into the shelter of a tree and slipped on his life detection ring.

The vibrant glows of the horses leaped into his mind, then the low shape of Darnand, already sleeping. Practice helped him dim their lights so that they wouldn’t blind him. In a few moments he could see small life forms through the misty shapes of the horses. He kept himself alert by identifying them as they moved about their foreign business. As the hours passed, he counted foxes, bats, deer, night birds, and even treerats asleep in their nests above him.

One life sign caught his immediate and full attention as it moved into the range of his life detection ring. A Bosmer or small human, making no sound over the night’s noises. It gave the signal for a peaceful approach, and Jerric returned it. He slipped off his ring and moved to meet Lildereth as she entered the camp. Her packs and bow went softly to the ground. She turned to face him.

“Where’s Ulfe?” Jerric asked.

“Rolling in a deer carcass. I’m sure we’ll smell her before we see her.” Lildereth stepped into the light.

She looked as clean and composed as she ever did, apart from the tears gathering on her lashes. Jerric’s stomach dropped. Weeping females were high on his list of things to avoid. He knew that a hard word would spark Lildereth’s temper, but if she wanted a fight she would already have provoked one. His compassion was likely to let loose the flood. She could have had her cry somewhere alone in the dark. Yet here she was.

Jerric took a deep breath.

“So a Nord and an Altmer are pissing out the back of a mead tent.”

Lildereth blinked several times, rapidly. Jerric pretended not to notice.

“The Altmer, perhaps curious about Nords, happens to see a tattoo on his…” Jerric grabbed his crotch.

“Member,” Lildereth suggested.

“Yeah. It’s a bunch of letters that spell out Welinome. Now that’s a word that the Altmer knows very well. In fact, he has the same tattoo. Of course at that point it looks like there could be more to the Nord’s. The Altmer just has to know. ‘Good son of Skyrim,’ he says to the Nord, ‘My dear wife, light of my soul, is named Welinome. Centuries ago I showed her my devotion with this tattoo. Now I cannot help but notice her name upon your…’”

Lildereth rolled her eyes.

“‘Member,’” Jerric continued. “‘My friend, is it possible that your wife is named Welinome, too?’

“‘No, Goldenrod,’ says the Nord. ‘Mine says Welcome to Solstheim, now go the fetch home.’”

Lildereth snorted. “When I heard this story, the fellow was a Redguard.”

“A Redguard married to a woman named Welinome? That seems unlikely.”

Ulfe crashed in amongst them, wild and reeking from her romp with the dead deer. It took a spell from the elf and a knee from Jerric to keep her out of the fire. Darnand poked a tousled head out of the tent and blinked owlishly while they were struggling. “The girls are back,” said Jerric. “Hide.”

Once they got the hound settled, Jerric began to wonder if Lildereth would crawl in with Darnand. Then he wondered if they would be noisy, or worse, if they would try to be quiet. She didn’t make a move toward the tent. Jerric felt relieved until he realized that he was staring.

“I’ll finish your watch,” Lildereth told him. “I won’t sleep for hours anyway. I chewed too many fennel seeds trying to stay awake on the way here.”

Jerric wasted no time getting out of his clothes and into his bedroll. He looked up at her before he pulled the furs over his head. “Are you ever going to tell me?”

“Some day.” She had seated herself with her back to the fire. “Not tonight.”

“Whatever it is, maybe you don’t have to go through it alone.”

Lildereth had her face turned to the side, but he could still see her crooked smile. “I’m not,” she said.




.

This post has been edited by Grits: May 11 2012, 11:08 AM

[SubRosa]

though we’ll be unnecessarily sober
Talk about sacrifices!

The vanishing Oblivion Gate is an intriguing mystery. I wonder if it means that someone from the Mythic Dawn is moving from Chorrol to someplace else?

Now a second mystery concerning the Odill farm? Hmm, what on Nirn is going on in County Chorrol?

Weeping females were high on his list of things to avoid.
A trait I believe all men share, for good reason.

Yet a third mystery, with the near weepy Lildreth. You certainly know how to keep us guessing! Through it all though, you have shown us what a tightly-knit trio Jerric, Darnit, and Lildreth have become.