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

[Grits]

haute ecole rider: Darnand has 1990s Robert Downey Jr. hair, when it was wavy and long on top. It's not a battlemage approved style. Jerric is indeed a mighty beverage processing unit. I’m glad you enjoyed Ulfe and Lildereth. Writing the doggy parts makes me smile. Thank you, haute!

mALX: I was thinking of you and grinning when I wrote about Jerric’s reaction to Darnand’s “confession.” A little more information, please, Breton!! Thank you, mALX!

King Coin: They might not see Lildereth again until someone washes the dog. Your impression is correct, Darnand never caught on to Jerric and Abiene. Carahil and Thaurron did, though. And I don’t think Darnand would be happy about it, either. In the first sentence of the whole story, Darnand is thinking wistfully about Abiene. Thank you, KC!

SubRosa: Nice pic for bard hair, thanks! I had a tough time coming up with a term for it! Darnand was a dutiful son until his parents died and his older brother threw him out. Then he was an angry teenager. He and Jerric talked about it ages ago (our time). That’s how he knew what to do with Jerric post-walkabout, and why he bothered.

ghastley: Very busy, and I’ve already forgotten to include some small things. You should see my frantically scribbled notes! If anything needs more detail, I can always go back and fill in. Thank you, ghastley!

Acadian: That is so Darnand!! And that’s exactly why he has not been on a tireless quest for a second round with Lildereth, no matter how much he thinks about it. I may have been involved in a similar prank, but of course I was not fool enough to cut my own hair. Thank you, Acadian!

McBadgere: Thank you, McB! I think Lildereth should get her own episode soon. She really has been busy, but the boys have no idea. We’ll fill in some blanks, but there are always more questions. And of course I sometimes forget to check my notes.

Olen: Oh my gosh, that was exactly Darnand’s morning. I am absolutely delighted that you understand what’s on his mind, because all Darnand could say about the whole mess was, “I am out of sorts.” Thank you, Olen!


Where we are: Jerric, Darnand, and the four-legged friends are on the way to Chorrol via Weynon Priory. Lildereth has flitted away again.




Chapter 15: Chorrol, Part Four


The sun had not risen above the trees when Jerric and Darnand rode into the courtyard of Weynon Priory. The grounds appeared tidy but nearly empty of life. A Dunmer knelt at work by the sheepfold gate. The only other motion came from the foraging chickens.

Jerric dismounted and turned the horses over to Darnand. Ulfe romped up to wipe her mouth on his leg, and then she trotted along at his side. He recognized the shepherd Eronor as he approached the sheepfold.

“Hail and good morning!” Jerric called.

Eronor scowled with recognition. He quickly glanced behind Jerric, then around over his own shoulder. Jerric recalled the violence of his last visit to the priory.

“Nord,” said Eronor.

Jerric decided to keep this conversation brief. “Do you have a new prior?”

Eronor jerked his chin toward the priory house. “He’s away. You’ll want Brother Venco.”

“Where’s Brother Piner? I’d like to speak with him.”

Eronor’s face became a mask. “He rests in the bone yard with Prior Maborel and the others.”

Jerric’s breath caught in his chest. “When? Wha— How did he die?”

Eronor turned back to his work. “I expect he was screaming.”

The shadows had shortened when Jerric looked up from Piner’s grave. Grey winter wrens from Skyrim made soft chirps and rustling noises, searching for tiny seeds in the dry grass around him. Ulfe still sat quietly with her chin cradled in his palm. He could hear Eronor working on the gate. The footsteps behind him must have pulled him from his thoughts. He felt Darnand’s hand low on his shoulder.

“Go on to Chorrol,” Jerric said. “Take Flash and Ulfe. I’ll see you at the guild hall if I don’t catch you on the road. Leave word there if you have to get us a room at an inn. I need to find out what happened here.” He kept his face turned away from his friend.

Darnand stood beside him for another moment without speaking. Then he made a coaxing sound and walked away with the dog.

Now they’re all in danger, thought Jerric. Every moment with me is a risk they don’t know they’re taking. I should leave them. All of them.

After a time he made his way to the priory house.

A middle-aged monk met him in the entry. His dark coloring and high-bridged nose marked him as an Imperial. “Well met, Jerric,” he said. “I am Brother Venco.”

Jerric wasn’t sure how to greet him.

Brother Venco didn’t wait for him to figure it out. “I am under instruction from your uncle,” he continued. He gestured toward the stairs. “Will you accompany me?”

It took Jerric a moment to remember their code. His uncle meant Cloud Ruler Temple. “Yeah.” He headed up the stairs to the right toward Jauffre’s office loft.

Venco surprised him again by opening the secret panel behind the bookshelves. The hidden chamber now contained a small desk, cupboards, and two chairs. In one of the chairs, rigid with tension, sat Darnand. His face told Jerric that he was completely confused and ready to defend himself. Jerric tried to cover his own dismay and reassure him with a look. He took the other chair while Venco closed the door.

Jerric was too upset for formalities. “Why didn’t Baurus tell me about Piner?” he asked Venco.

The Imperial seated himself behind the desk. “I have the same question. At best, my message did not reach him in time.”

Jerric didn’t want to consider the worst. “What about that Gate along the Black Road? What about the Odiils? Do you think any of that is connected to me coming back to Chorrol?”

Venco blinked. “Who are the Odiils?”

Jerric filled him in.

“Do not enquire at the castle,” Venco said thoughtfully. “Some folk will know you by your old name. That cannot be helped. Identifying yourself to anyone new is an unnecessary risk.”

“My old…”

“You must leave Jerric of Kvatch behind along with your armor. Kjellingson of Anvil is a name that will not cause you to stumble and will not be readily connected to your past. You are already known in Chorrol, but in your further travels you should use your surname. I see that you have already eliminated your most distinctive scar. Perhaps you might repair your nose with the help of a skilled healer.”

Jerric and Darnand exchanged a look. “I know one,” said Jerric. “What are you saying about my armor?”

“Rasheda has your new plate at Fire and Steel in Chorrol. It was made for you by the smiths who crafted your Blades armor.”

“Garond and Mahvash,” said Jerric. He glanced uneasily back at Darnand. His hope of keeping the Breton out of this was quickly fading.

Venco nodded. “You must leave everything that connects you with Kvatch, the Blades, and Lord Martin.”

“Wait—” said Jerric, throwing out his hands as if to stop Venco’s words.

“There is another Septim,” Venco said to Darnand. “He is safe with his Blades, thanks to the actions of Jerric Lionheart. Our Lord Martin of Kvatch is Emperor Uriel’s last surviving heir. He alone might relight the Dragonfires and renew the seal against Oblivion. Yet the Amulet of Kings is in the hands of the enemy. Our only hope is to find it.”

Jerric wanted to cut Brother Venco down in his chair. Instead he watched Darnand, sickened and hopeful at the same time.

Darnand leaned forward, utterly calm. “What is my part in this?”

Venco placed his palms on the desk. “I would ask that you aid our agent Jerric. You are familiar with his assignment?”

Darnand shot a glance at Jerric. “I suspect there is much that I do not know.”

Jerric calmed himself while Venco briefed Darnand. His friend did not betray the parts that Jerric had already told him.

“So your goals remain the same,” Venco finished. “Travel to the Mages Guild chapters. Learn your spells and earn your recommendations. Search for the remaining Mythic Dawn Commentaries. The only difference is that Kjellingson will travel as your hired guard.”

“He is known by the Mages Guild,” Darnand pointed out.

“Raminus Polus will be made aware of the slight deception. You need not fear discovery. Jerric Kjellingson is his true name.”

“Why drag Darnand into this?” Jerric interrupted. “Why not assign me to some other agent?”

“We may never learn who betrayed Emperor Uriel. Perhaps they even perished under the prison, while pretending to help his Majesty escape the assassins. You who had the opportunity to aid the enemy but did not are above suspicion. At present, you and Baurus are our most trusted agents in the field. Penoit could not have known to meet you prior to the assassination, and Baurus assures me that he has not been converted since.”

“I guess you can add Brother Piner to your list of the trusted,” said Jerric.

A shadow passed across Venco’s face. “May Arkay guide his journey.”

Jerric nodded at his friend. “I notice you didn’t ask him to join up.”

“Your invitation was far out of the ordinary. The gods brought you before the Emperor at the very hour of his death. Divine intervention circumvents our recruitment process.”

Jerric didn’t know what else to ask first. “What happened to Piner?”

“He was ambushed by Mythic Dawn agents outside Chorrol. They questioned him briefly. He did not survive.”

Jerric dried his palms on his thighs. Piner’s skill with the katana had surpassed his own. His death was a personal loss, but also a blow to Jerric’s confidence. “Grandmaster Jauffre told me not to get taken alive,” he said. “I don’t really have a plan for that. I can’t count on a killing spell. I might absorb it.”

Venco made a steeple with his fingers while he considered the question. “You are an alchemist, are you not? I suggest a strong poison.”

“Fast acting,” said Darnand. “On a short blade.”

“Perhaps your Bosmer friend might advise you,” said Venco. His eyes were as still as a snake’s.

Darnand stiffened at his side. Jerric began inwardly cursing.

“I have questions about the nature of your relationship,” Venco continued. “Has she tried to win your affection, or bind you to her in any way?”

Jerric recalled her soft voice in the night, the time she let him see her tears, and every glimpse of her naked. Hells, he thought. She even humped the Breton.

“No,” said Darnand.

Jerric shook his head. “No.”

“You do not have the luxury of trust,” Venco told them. “Her arrival in Anvil coincided with your return.”

“She could have killed me a hundred times,” Jerric objected. He looked to Darnand for support.

Darnand cleared his throat. “Brother Venco wonders if she might be waiting for you to lead her to Lord Martin.” Darnand’s face showed that he harbored a doubt. Jerric hated to admit to his own uneasy feeling.

“She’s going to notice if I change my name,” Jerric said to Venco.

“Then I suggest you craft a convincing tale or end your association.” Venco moved to a cupboard and retrieved a large, round shield. “This shield is Akaviri work. The enchantment will fortify your ability to turn blows with your shield and heavy armor. It also carries an enchantment that should increase the strength of your steel plate to roughly that of Dwarven material, without the added weight. I cannot explain the nature of the fortification, but you should not carry it when you are wearing light armor, such as your leather.”

“Or my mail,” Jerric said warily.

“You will leave your Kvatch mail, Wolf shield, and Blades helmet here.” Venco’s lowered brows did not invite argument.

Dammit, thought Jerric. “My helm carries a strong fire shield enchantment.”

“This is not a negotiation. We must still find the Amulet and return it to Lord Martin. Then he must reach the Temple of the One to light the Dragonfires. The gods gave Emperor Uriel a vision of you at Lord Martin’s side. Only Akatosh knows why he chose you, but he did. Now we must deal with it. You will have contact with the enemy, so you must not be identified. Our plan does not include losing you at this early hour.”

Jerric scratched a hand through his hair. “What about my katana? I’ve been training with it. I’d hate to leave it behind.”

“In your new armor you will appear as a successful mercenary who has an appreciation of Akaviri style. That is the reason behind the shield. It is called the Tower of the Nine. You purchased it from Viator Accius of Stonewall Shields in the Imperial City.”

Jerric turned his attention to the shield. Its age was evident in the cracks around the edges, but the elaborate enameled designs were largely intact. The red jewel at the center had no chips or cracks. He took that as evidence of the shield enchantment. It felt good on his arm. Heavier than his Wolf shield, and far more sturdy. His experimental bashing motion made him proud of his conditioning. He bounced on his toes a few times, letting out some stress.

“It is close enough in style to the Blades’ shields to cause confusion,” said Darnand. Jerric and Venco gave him their attention. “If anyone speaks of Jerric’s Blades helm and katana, Kjellingson’s ownership of an Akaviri shield and katana will cast doubt upon the rumor. The incorrect information will suggest that any connection is a mistake.”

Venco nodded. He placed a heavy coin purse on the desk in front of Jerric. “The Blades do not expect you to fund your own missions. This will offset your expenses, such as the purchase of another horse.”

Jerric got his meaning with a sinking feeling. “No,” he groaned. “Not Flash!”

“His markings make him unique,” Darnand said softly.

Venco’s look was both calculating and approving. “Darnand Penoit, I thank you for your cooperation. On behalf of the Blades, and in the name of his Lordship Martin Septim.”

“I look forward to the honor of meeting him,” Darnand replied. Jerric was impressed by his cool tone. The Breton had taken in quite a lot of new information.

The two of them left the priory house and headed around toward the stable. Jerric wondered if Darnand was angry at his past deception. A single look reassured him.

“That was a smooth lie,” Darnand said. “About the elf.”

“I managed one word that time. I must be getting better at this agent business.” Jerric stopped him under the portico. “I took the Amulet of Kings from Emperor Uriel and delivered it to the Grandmaster of the Blades, here at the priory,” he said quietly. “Jauffre told me where to find Martin. That’s all of it. I would have kept you out of this, but now I’m glad you’re in it.”

“You are an agent for the Blades,” said Darnand, as if he still didn’t quite believe it.

“Yeah. I’m the first to admit I make a poor soldier. Though when I think of my heroes, they’re generally in some kind of uniform.”

“I suppose that makes me an asset.”

Jerric wasn’t sure any of that mattered. “Don’t forget, now I’m working for you. Boss.”

Now Darnand’s expression was unreadable. “Let us hand over your gear and make our farewells to Flash,” he said. “And by the Nine Divines, say nothing about the dog.”



.

This post has been edited by Grits: May 22 2012, 01:55 PM

[SubRosa]

Ahhh, so its Downy Jr. hair. I think I like the Leon hair better. But at least Downy hair does not cause lazy eye...

One soul knelt at work by the sheepfold gate.
Necromancers!

Return to Weynon. Jerric does not appear to be very welcome. At least not in Eroner's eyes.

Well, it seems the beans are well and truly spilled now, at least where Darnand is concerned. And Jerric is going undercover, so to speak, to sneak under the Mythic Dawn's radar detect life. And the Tower of the Nine is part of his new identity. Brilliant of you to work in one of the special items from the game that way. Too bad they could not get him that Akaviri Sunderblade too...

So no more Flash, and no more Lildreth. I can't wait to see how they explain things to her! Though granted her disappearances could be attributed to her checking in with her Mythic Dawn control agent... I loved the final line by Darnand. One mention of Ulfe and she would be whisked away too!

This post has been edited by SubRosa: May 21 2012, 07:15 PM

[mALX]

Holy Crap! When he had Darnand inside already that freaked me out. THIS is exactly how one would expect the Emperor's Elite Guard to be, not how inept they were in the game - absolutely LOVE what you have done to revamp the Blades !!! Awesome Write !!!

[King Coin]

Rude greeting at the priory, though considering the last time Jerric was there, it isn’t totally unwarranted.

Jerric was more deeply affected by the deaths than I anticipated. He didn’t know the place was attacked?

I should leave them. All of them.
Aravi has had those thoughts before. She found her friends more than willing to stand beside her though. I hope Jerric gives them the chance to make a choice on their own, and doesn’t attempt to leave them behind. I’m sure he couldn’t lose Lildereth for very long if he wanted to anyways.

Well… It looks like that option was taken away from him by Venco. I’m fine with that. What I’m not fine with is his mistrust of Lildereth. He’s a Blade though, they are paid to be paranoid. Darnand wouldn’t be a bad agent.

[ghastley]

Baurus trusted Jerric, but didn't trust Darnand or Lildereth. Venco trusts Jerric and Darnand, but doesn't trust Lil. We need another Blade!

[Acadian]

Wow, you really upped the stakes here!

’Jerric’s breath caught in his chest. “When? Wha— How did he die?”
Eronor turned back to his work. “I expect he was screaming.”’
This was a brilliant mixture of almost humor – that chilled to the bone. Bravo!

’Every moment with me is a risk they don’t know they’re taking. I should leave them. All of them.’
Noble and heartbreaking, Jerric.

Magnificent job with Venco. He oozes confidence and competence with a perfect amount of distance to him.

Eeep! I hope Lili is not sleeping with the MD (Mythic Dawn Sleeper). I’m glad Darnand will be with Jerric – and think it brilliant that Darnand now has the big Nord in his 'employ'. I can only imagine the fun that could entail!

Hmm, fixing Jerric's nose. That smells like an invitation for Abiene.

This post has been edited by Acadian: May 22 2012, 12:45 AM

[McBadgere]

OOooh, that was...Amazing is too small a word for that chapter...I think that's probably my fave chapter ever...For so many reasons...Crank it up much?... ...Wow...

Loved the way that Jerric debated how to tell Darnand the stuff, then Venco just tells him...Venco reminds me of this character in Hawaii Five-O at the moment, Fryer I think his name is, very close to being a git but ultimately very cool...

Yes, likes Venco does I... ...

The Tower of The Nine!!!...I had that shield for ages with Nordy Boy...I loved it, then my sister told me about the Escutcheon...*Drools*...Enchanted shields...Mmmm...But yes, love the Tower of The Nine...And that cuirass Varnardo has...Can't remember what it's called...But anyways, love the fact that that shield is now in t'story...*Sighs*...

Lildreth is a baddie? ...Oooh, that just makes her hotter... ...Still don't get the Darnand dalliance, but hey, you have to put up with much worse from me so...*Shrugs*... ...

I just read it all again...My Gods this was brilliant...*Bows*...

Love it love it love it!!....

Well done that woman!!...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds till his hands hurt*...

[Olen]

I sense a turning point. The build up has been there, this far they've been coasting, certainly driven by what they want but now I sense more is added. They don't just have what they want but they have a mission and are in danger, so they have fear to drive them too now. There's more signs of change too, Piner is dead and their list of allies grows shorter while the danger comes closer. Leaving Flash and Jerric's fame are other signs of the old times going.

How well will it work though, Jerric seems to be a memorable bloke and no name change will change him, and they make quite a trio anyway. It might throw the Dawn off the trail for a bit, but not for long.

I rather suspect we will still have Lildreth, but it changes the party dynamic more now Darnard is in on the secret. I think Chorrol may be quite a pivotal place.

[Grits]

SubRosa: That Sunderblade would be perfect against dremora armor. Maybe Venco had a budget crisis. I must have been woozy with fever when I wrote that “one soul” line! I’m changing it to Dunmer. Thank you, SubRosa!

mALX: I always imagined that the real Blades would have some truly scary individuals working for them. Not at Cloud Ruler Temple, but in the field. That “Holy crap” moment was exactly what I was hoping for with Darnand already sweating it out in a chair! Thank you, mALX!

King Coin: It was Brother Piner’s recent death outside Chorrol (which doesn’t happen in the game) that hit him so hard. He really liked Piner the first time he met him, and he had a lot of respect for him after the attack that happened the second time he saw him (because Piner was a robe-wearing badass). Also he believes that the Odiils’ disappearance and Piner’s death are somehow his fault. Thank you, KC, especially for your comment about Darnand!

ghastley: I’m sure the third Blade will love her! Maybe that’s how they’ll uncover the Blades traitor, it’s the one who trusts the elf!

Acadian: The Vencos of any world are a mystery to me, so your kind words are very reassuring. Thank you for drawing attention to Jerric’s moment of nobility, that was the heart of the segment for me. The comfort he gets from his friends comes with a dash of guilt. And I’m sure that Jerric’s poor nose is terrified! Actually, that made me think of something… *clickity clickity*

McBadgere: Thank you so much, McBadgere! Very close to being a git is right. I mean he has to use people, but it’s for Good, so it’s complicated. Oh, I wrote a bit today for later in the chapter that was pretty bland in my mind until inspiration struck from your Androforms, so thank you for that, too!

Olen: Very much a turning point, and I have been dragging my feet getting here. You have highlighted the building pressures, thank you! It was fun to imagine Venco dealing with Jerric. You’re right, a name change won’t keep him from continually losing his shirt and associated outrageous behavior, so we’ll have to wait and see how his version of keeping a low profile works out.


Where we are: Darnand has been taken fully into the Blades’ trust. Jerric has handed over his Kvatch and Blades gear and agreed to keep a low profile as Kjellingson of Anvil. Much to Jerric’s dismay, Flash had to stay behind at Weynon Priory.

Note: The Achille in this chapter is not meant to be Achille the Blade from the game. Also, so you don’t have to look it up: Morning Star/January, First Seed/March, Sun’s Height/July. And Destri: hint, hint.




Chapter 15: Chorrol, Part Five


Jerric and Darnand left North Country Stables and walked toward Chorrol’s South Gate. Ulfe kept pace at Jerric’s side. The sun had dropped behind the mountains. Jerric could feel the night’s chill seeping up from the ground.

“You go back tomorrow and buy the horse,” Jerric said. “That Dunmer doesn’t like me.”

“I shall. I would also like to purchase another saddle. It will mean leaving some of our gear behind, but I wish to offer a mount to Lildereth.”

“Yeah,” said Jerric. His tone betrayed how much he already missed her.

“As for our camp needs...”

“I can handle it,” said Jerric. “I’ll sort the gear and you make the trade. We’ll sleep warmer in a smaller tent anyway. Well, it will be lines and tarps, but we’ll manage.” He cut his eyes at Darnand. “Keep your mitts off my cook pots.”

Darnand snorted. Jerric grinned. The Breton resented the effort involved in camp cookery, yet he seemed to appreciate the hot meals.

“I am afraid that we must purge our portable library,” Darnand said. “I have a few volumes that I might live without.”

“I’m reading a book about the Interregnum.” Jerric tried to sound casual. “You would not believe how good it is. I can’t wait to read the next part. When I’m through, you might want to borrow it.”

“In either pack, it will weigh the same.”

The guards nodded them through the open gates. Fountain Gate held few pedestrians and no horses, so Jerric paused in front of the healer statue to admire the view.

“I shall be pleased to see Abiene,” said Darnand, his eyes on the statue.

Her name brought a surge of conflicting emotions. Jerric tried to keep his voice neutral. “Yeah.”

“Will you accompany me to the guild hall?”

Jerric shifted the straps over his shoulder. “I’ll follow you there tonight, but I think I should sleep at an inn. Some folks here know me, but not everyone. Won’t hurt to start acting like who we’re supposed to be.”

“You might dine at the Oak and Crosier, but sellswords stay at the Grey Mare.” Darnand indicted the two inns with a lift of his chin.

“I guess the Grey Mare is where I should do my drinking.”

Darnand gave him a look. “I hope you will return to the guild hall, if it comes to that.”

Piner’s shadow had joined the others in Jerric’s mind. He wondered which of the local rock piles or caves had seen the monk’s end. His eyes went to the steeple visible over the Oak and Crosier. Abiene. She was probably there right now. The thought made his gut twist while his body ached. He knew he wouldn’t stay away from her.

“I’ll have some business in town as well as whatever task Teekeeus gives me,” Jerric said. “I’ll go to Fire and Steel in the morning. I’ll want to stow my new armor with the rest of our gear at the guild hall. Mage locks beat whatever stick I’ll use to wedge the door shut at the Grey Mare. I don’t want to tempt some thief into making a mistake in Emfrid’s, uh, establishment.”

Darnand’s eyebrows told Jerric that he had taken the bait.

“Emfrid,” Jerric sighed. “Now there’s a beauty.” He felt his face flush, even though it was the truth.

“Let us make our way to the guild hall,” Darnand said. “If you are ready.”

Jerric glanced down at Ulfe where she sat politely with her head against his thigh, gazing up at him. “You want to stay with me tonight, girl?” Jerric asked her. “Or the mean one?”

Ulfe’s jaw dropped in a panting grin.

“You may desist with this fiction,” Darnand told him. “I know that you intend to keep the hound.”

The three of them walked around the dry fountain and headed up the street toward Great Oak Place.

“Book stores,” said Jerric. “You or me?”

“I expect I will have the time to pursue that task,” said Darnand. “You may trust me to be thorough. Additionally, I know a few individuals in Chorrol who might have contacts. My interest in daedric texts will not seem unusual to them.”

Jerric noticed a man approaching. Fair-skinned and tall for a Breton, with the kind of red hair most often seen on Nords and prostitutes. The brocade cloak with fox fur mantle and his heavy way of walking suggested he was a merchant type. The two young men at his sides wore practical overcoats and carried thick satchels. No weapons were visible. It was the man’s sharp glare that had drawn Jerric’s attention. He was looking Darnand over with cold assessment. Jerric felt his friend draw himself up at his side.

That fetcher might have some frost resistance, Jerric decided. He brought a shock spell to the front of his mind while he pictured how he would disable the trio. Fast and hard, the redhead first and then the two youngsters. They have higher ground, but the lads aren’t paying attention. They’ll hit the paving stones surprised. Just don’t trip over the dog.

“Darnand,” the man said in passing.

Jerric could hear the strain in Darnand’s voice. “Brother.”

They walked on up the hill for a moment before Jerric spoke. “Your brother,” he ventured. “You don’t look much alike. How long since you talked to him?”

Darnand stepped over to the side of a building, dropping his packs to the ground. He braced himself against the stone wall. “Years. They say he has his mother’s look. The Skyrim blood is strong in that family.” He pressed his eyes shut with shaking fingers.

“Uh…” Jerric looked around to see if anyone was watching them. He was not sure how to handle this unexpected lapse.

Darnand pulled himself straight after a moment, meeting Jerric’s concerned gaze with what looked like defiance.

“You’d better just spit it out,” said Jerric.

Darnand gathered his packs and started walking again. “Achille’s mother was the first Mistress Penoit. She fell victim to a wasting illness when he was a lad. A woman from High Rock was hired to nurse her, someone known to the family. A commoner. Achille’s mother died at the end of Morning Star. Mister Penoit wed the nurse in First Seed. I was born in Sun’s Height.”

Jerric gazed up at the sky while he did the math. “That doesn’t look good.”

“It does not. Achille perceived me as a threat from an early age. My mother was a gentle, loving woman. She was kind to Achille, but he never accepted her. To worsen matters, I am the very image of our father. The Penoits left their titles behind when they came to Cyrodiil, but not their pretensions. It burned Achille that a lesser son could look as if he stepped out of a family portrait, while as the heir he has the appearance of some serving girl’s by-blow.” Darnand glanced over. “I mean you no offense.”

“None taken. He does have a Nordish look. I know you delicate types don’t say that as a compliment.” Jerric considered Darnand’s fine features and slender build. He thanked the gods once again for making him a son of Skyrim.

Darnand made an elegant gesture. “Did you notice his gloves? He wears them in every season. He is ashamed of his peasant fists.” A frown passed over his face. “When I grew old enough to recognize it, I returned my brother’s dislike in kind.”

Jerric made a mental leap. “He’s not so great at magic, is he?”

Now Darnand looked distinctly smug. “He could not cast his way out of a parchment wrapper.”

“He cast you out of your home fast enough.”

Darnand gave Jerric a quick little smile. “I see that you apprehend the relationship. That is a comfort to me.”

Jerric shook his head as they passed into Great Oak Place. Bretons.




.

This post has been edited by Grits: Jun 12 2012, 05:52 PM

[haute ecole rider]

Ooooh, a little bit more of Darnand's history! I found it very interesting, especially since I have a story idea percolating in the back of my mind that takes advantage of all the different strains floating around that part of Nirn.

I really liked how you conveyed the discomfort that Achille's appearance caused Darnand's, and the unease he felt at his brother's approach. Better yet, how our thick-skinned Nord hero picked up on that tension while the other was still some distance away. Jerric certainly is no dumb Nord, that's for sure!

[McBadgere]

Oh, I wrote a bit today for later in the chapter that was pretty bland in my mind until inspiration struck from your Androforms, so thank you for that, too!

Um...Wow... ...Anytime!!...I am honoured to have helped in some small way milady *Bows*... ...

Oh yeah!!!...New Jerric!!...*Sighs contentedly*... ...

"...It will mean leaving some of our gear behind, but I wish to offer a mount to Lildereth.”

Tea, meet monitor... ...

Loved that line...

And methinks this a huge hint at someone...

“I’m reading a book about the Interregnum.” Jerric tried to sound casual. “You would not believe how good it is. I can’t wait to read the next part. When I’m through, you might want to borrow it.”

Unsurprisingly enough, I loved this intro trawl into Chorrol...I could picture it all brilliantly...

And then, we get some background on the Darnand thrown in for good measure...

Great descriptions of the trio btw...Nicely done...

Another excellent chapter...Looking forward to much more...

Oh yes...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

[SubRosa]

“I’m reading a book about the Interregnum.”
I wonder if it is the one by that famous Redguard historian, Destri Melarg?

So Darnand's brother is part of that family? Rather than part of Darnand's? This will be interesting. Ahh, so they are half-brothers. It sounds like Achille is quite the heel as well. Very aptly named on your part.

[mALX]

Ooh, a bit of Darnand's history and family skeletons rattling! This is really interesting, like fishing and seeing the bobber dunk and waiting for the rest of the bite !!!! I am intrigued to know more, and also to find out who Darnand was saving himself for (hopefully NOT Abiene, or it will blow his friendship with Jerric completely apart! ARGH !!! LOVE this chapter, Awesome Write !!!!

[Acadian]

“I shall. I would also like to purchase another saddle. It will mean leaving some of our gear behind, but I wish to offer a mount to Lildereth.”
I thought he already offered her one, and she accepted. *slaps self* OMG, I’m thinking like Jerric!

'Darnand snorted. Jerric grinned. The Breton resented the effort involved in camp cookery, yet he seemed to appreciate the hot meals.’
What a great partnership! Jerric cooks & cleans and, in return, Darnand eats!

Yup, got the Destri hint from Jerric's reading selection.

’That fetcher might have some frost resistance, Jerric decided. He brought a shock spell to the front of his mind while he pictured how he would disable the trio. Fast and hard, the redhead first and then the two youngsters. They have higher ground, but the lads aren’t paying attention. They’ll hit the paving stones surprised. Just don’t trip over the dog.’
I see Jerric noted the likely Nordic blood in the tall red-headed Breton and its implication of frost resistance. How neat to listen in on Jerric’s quick, but practiced assessment as he pondered his response to the possible threat. Quite intriguing about Darnand’s brother.

’Jerric considered Darnand’s fine features and slender build. He thanked the gods once again for making him a son of Skyrim.’
For some reason, this made me want to cheer for our rugged hero!

’Jerric made a mental leap. “He’s not so great at magic, is he?”
Now Darnand looked distinctly smug. “He could not cast his way out of a parchment wrapper.”
“He cast you out of your home fast enough.”
Darnand gave Jerric a quick little smile. “I see that you apprehend the relationship. That is a comfort to me.”
Jerric shook his head as they passed into Great Oak Place. Bretons.’
I simply loved this little exchange! From its setting-friendly wrappings to tasking the word ‘cast’ with double duty. And finally, that unique and delightful understanding between our two friends, the odd couple.

I am so delighted to read wherever you take me, my friend, but I must confess that I am hopeful of seeing Abiene again during this Chorrol visit.

[King Coin]

I have really started to miss Cyrodiil and your opening description is not helping! Chorrol is my favorite city in Cyrodill. There’s just so much to do in Skyrim yet.

Lildereth. What is she up to? She’s been off on her own as of late.

A brother! So here’s one of the Bretons that tossed Darnand out of the house.

He thanked the gods once again for making him a son of Skyrim.


Now Darnand looked distinctly smug. “He could not cast his way out of a parchment wrapper.”


Bretons indeed.

[ghastley]

It just makes sense that the Alchemist would be the cook. Although knowing how he mixes his potions, I wouldn't want to watch the preparation, just trust the results.

All the bits I wanted to quote already were.

nits: was "sellswords" a typo for spellswords, or your term for a mercenary?

[Grits]

haute ecole rider: High Rock seems like the perfect setting for stories of violence and betrayal. The more I read about lore, the more interesting the “other” provinces sound! Years of guard work make Jerric scan for threats as naturally as breathing. It’s fun to show him being awesome, since he so often spills his mead while searching for his pants. Thank you, haute!

McBadgere: I was proud of Jerric for not teasing Darnand about the mounting. Here’s the link to Destri’s magnificent Interregnum, and Jerric is not the only one who wants to find it at the top of the board again someday. Thank you, McB! It’s great to have you back!

SubRosa: Achille is one of those characters who showed up fully formed and that was his name, so I thought I’d better not fight it. At least now Jerric knows enough to stop trying to drag Darnand into brothels! Thank you, SubRosa!

mALX: Yep, now Jerric is really in the know. I have an episode started from Darnand’s point of view, so some questions will be answered. It’s the only way I could think to get him to spill the goods, since he thinks that a three word statement amounts to a full confession. Thank you, mALX!

Acadian: Abiene is very much expecting a social call from both men and a girlfriend chat whenever Lildereth shows up. I can see her marching down from the chapel if someone doesn't get over there pretty quick! Thank you so much for your kind words, Acadian. The odd couple moments are such fun to write!

King Coin: I love the Chorrol area, and I’m still finding new things there. Jerric just found out (in his game) the reason behind that crazy Dunmer in the burgundy dress who runs around killing wildlife. Maybe Lildereth will have to go on a Dunmer hunt! Thanks, KC!

ghastley: You’re so right, do not ask Jerric what he put in the soup. And best to chew carefully. It was sellswords for mercenary, and thanks for pointing it out. That’s exactly the kind of error my eyes just don’t see. Thank you, ghastley!

Where we are: Darnand, Jerric, and Ulfe have arrived in Chorrol. An uncomfortable moment with Darnand’s half-brother led Darnand to explain that although his parents managed to marry before he was born, he was the product of their adulterous relationship. Lildereth is off somewhere on her own.




Chapter 15: Chorrol, Part Six


Jerric and Darnand stopped in front of the Chorrol Mages Guild Hall. Great Oak Place was quiet behind them. The street lamps were burning. The only sounds were wind through bare branches and a guard’s booted feet. Ulfe dropped onto her haunches. Jerric watched his friend.

“They will be gathered in the reception hall at this hour,” Darnand said after a moment.

“Waiting for dinner,” said Jerric. “That counter will be loaded with drinks and stuff on those little pieces of bread.” Darnand remained still and silent, looking up at the round stained glass window. “I guess I’ll stow my gear and head to the bathhouse. Scrub off the stink and see what Emfrid has left in the pot.”

Darnand’s slight nod let Jerric know that he was listening.

“I’ll come back for breakfast,” Jerric continued. “I’ll want to talk to Teekeeus and see about my armor tomorrow.”

“We should speak to Athragar in the morning. As you anticipate, this evening will be for sharing news.” Darnand gave him the look that was his version of a hand clasp. After another moment of not speaking, he moved up onto the portico and opened the door.

Jerric followed him into the crowded reception chamber, Ulfe pressed politely against his leg. Warm light shone from the chandelier, a wealth of candles, and even up from the circular inlay on the floor. Draperies were still pulled across the doors to the dining chamber, but cooking smells drifted through the scents of perfumed oils and hair tonics. This chapter knew how to make any evening an occasion. Jerric glanced over his guild fellows and their guests.

A richly gowned woman was chatting with the bald Imperial whose name Jerric couldn’t remember. Two dark elves in crisp new Apprentice robes were standing by the plates of bread and cheese. Athragar and Angalmo had their heads together with Teekeeus over glasses of wine. A chorus of greetings sounded. Darnand was swept into the group.

Jerric hooked one of Darnand’s packs from his shoulder and headed for the basement. His gear would be safe from outsiders behind the guild’s mage locks. A few moments of shuffling put his overnight necessities in the day pack. Most of their clothing could stand some more use, but they would need to launder soon. He tucked a few blades about his person and slung Redeemer across his back. Just the basics, he told himself. The bulk of their purse remained in Darnand’s keeping. Coins had a way of slipping through Jerric’s fingers.

He kept moving on the way back through the reception hall, counting on Darnand to fill in their explanations. Jerric turned at the door to offer good evenings and check once more on his friend. The Breton stood between Athragar and Teekeeus, a goblet in his hand. The old confidence was back in his face, and renewed energy showed in the set of his shoulders. Jerric hoped he wouldn’t stay up all night. Then he laughed at himself for nursemaiding. This was Darnand’s homecoming. He was right to step away.

Jerric found his eyes returning to the chapel’s steeple as he made his way to the bathhouse. By the time he washed the hound and then got himself clean, it would be late. There was no discreet way to reach Abiene at that hour, short of injuring himself and pleading a curse against his magicka. He considered for a moment. No, a Master Alchemist would be ill-advised to attempt that deception.

As he turned into the alley behind the Oak and Crosier he scanned the street once more for Abiene’s trim form. He imagined the way she strode along with purpose, wayward curls floating around her head. Then he pictured her strolling at leisure in that white summer dress, a smile in her eyes and sunlight on her shoulders. That led to another lap around Fountain Gate to get his body back under control.

The bathhouse attendant greeted them with a grin. “You want hot?”

“Half hot,” said Jerric, “and I’m going to wash the dog.”

“Fine by me,” said the man. “Just keep her out of the soaking tub.” He took Jerric’s coins and handed him a locker key. “Wash stations are straight out back. She can come inside when she settles down. They like to stretch out by the stove.”

Out in the paved courtyard Ulfe soon had them both covered in her soap. Jerric scrubbed himself off while she celebrated her freedom by racing in circles and crashing into walls, dragging the wet towel along in her teeth. By the time Jerric rinsed himself she sat panting by the door. He realized that although their breath was steaming out, he only felt a little cool. He examined the locker key looped around his wrist. It bore a mild enchantment against cold and heat. He wondered if this was what gave Darnand the idea for Abiene’s present.

His stomach reminded him that time was passing, but his bones craved a soak. Inside he eased into the waiting tub. Ulfe flopped down in front of the wood stove. After a time the bathing attendant returned. He bore a wine bottle, a clay mug, and a spot of color on each cheek.

“Need anything?”

“No, thanks.” Jerric leaned his head back and tried to get more of himself under the water.

“Name’s Hastus,” said the man.

“I’m Jerric. Pleased to meet you.” He guessed that the late hour was to blame for the empty bathhouse and Hastus’ undivided attention.

“Thought I recognized you from summer’s end,” said Hastus. “You know, I almost have a mind to charge you Nords by the foot.” He sat down on a wooden stool.

Jerric looked over to see if he was jesting. “How do you know it was me? I’m not the only Nord you’ve seen in County Chorrol.”

“Ha! You might be the only one who bathes.”

Jerric sighed. At times like these handing out a beating only served to tell the man that he was right. Besides, his tone didn’t offer offense. “The captain of your Guard is a Nord,” Jerric said. He gestured for the wine. If this fetcher was going to act familiar, he could share his drink.

Hastus filled his mug and handed Jerric the bottle. “That he is. Keeps to himself, not very social. I see him from time to time at the Oak and Crosier. Now there’s a fine establishment. Respectable.” Hastus leaned back grinning. “You staying at the Mare?”

Jerric had to laugh. “Yeah.” Only an Imperial could be this reckless with his mouth and still keep his teeth. He winced at the sour wine. “It’s hard work drinking this after Skingrad.”

“You’re from the West Weald? I’d’ve guessed Gold Coast by your talk.”

Jerric was in no mood to reminisce about Kvatch. He let his consonants slide into the Abecean. “Anvil. Ever been there?” Evah bin they-ah? He took another swig of wine.

“Never been farther than the Imperial City. Say, wha—”

“Do you know what happened to the Odiils?” Jerric interrupted. He realized he wasn’t sure exactly what he was supposed to admit about his identity, his home, or his recent activities. This man already knows me, he decided. Best to save the dissembling for Bruma.

“I heard they all got killed. Their place is up for sale or rent, just like the others over that way. Goblin country. Too far out for city watch, and the militia has their eyes open for daedra. Folk are right to move back inside the walls. Can’t expect someone to defend what’s indefensible.”

“They were farmers.” Jerric gestured with his bottle. “What will you drink when there’s no new harvest?”

Hastus considered his wine. “I suppose the Elder Council is thinking on that. In the meantime, maybe we should all plant some potatoes. Say, the old man used to drink at the Grey Mare. Maybe that Nord woman will have something to tell you.”

“Emfrid.” Jerric started climbing out of the bath. “I’m heading there now, unless you have a mind to cook me dinner.”

Hastus hooked a thumb toward the adjacent chamber. “I set a shaving stand up for you.”

Jerric nodded his thanks. The man knew his business.

The chapel bells tolled the quarter hour as Jerric walked into the Grey Mare. He had lost track of which hour, but it was late. Three young men sat at one table, a pitcher and mugs between them. The dark-haired one strummed listlessly on a lute, and his friends were quiet. Emfrid was working on one of the table tops with a brush and scrubbing sand. She straightened and wiped her hands. Jerric saw recognition dawn in her face.

“Welcome back,” she said. After a quick glance at the table of Imperials, she gestured toward the empty bar.

Jerric took a seat and settled his belongings. Emfrid filled a tankard while he enjoyed her long-limbed grace. He guessed from the single tapped keg that the Mare was not offering a wide selection this evening.

Emfrid waited until he had taken a long drink before she spoke. “Will you be in town for long, Jerric?”

“A few days at least, maybe a week. I’d like to stay here, if I may. That is, if you have a bed. I mean if you have a room available.”

He guessed that she had a great deal of practice ignoring men’s blundering, because she didn’t even raise an eyebrow. “I do. I’m glad you got here tonight, with Heart’s Day right around the corner. I’ll have my hands full then.”

Jerric lost a moment doing the math. “Heart’s Day is…?”

“The day after tomorrow.” She brushed a palm over the bar and gave him a slow smile. “On Loredas. You still have time to shop.”

“Uh, right.” Jerric ran a hand through his hair. He had a few gifts for Abiene since he had missed her birthday. He could save one and give it to her for Heart’s Day. Now that he thought about it, a ring had been a poor choice to have Darnand enchant for her. It was going to be hard enough to put some distance between them without making promises with jewelry. Then he had a thought. Was Emfrid flirting with him?

His stomach growled before he could decide. Emfrid walked out through a side door without a word. Jerric looked down at Ulfe, whose quiet presence he had completely forgotten. “Smooth. Let’s keep this between us, girl.”

Emfrid reappeared bearing a clay tureen shaped like a pumpkin. “Stew,” she said, placing it in front of Jerric. When she lifted the lid, fragrant steam made sweat break out on his face while his mouth filled with anticipation. He swallowed a few times, fearful of drooling.

“Thanks.” An experimental scoop brought corn, beans, shredded meat, and chunks of pumpkin to light. Chopped winter greens and onions swirled through the thick gravy. Emfrid returned and slid a platter of brown bread across the bar. The accompanying crock of butter looked on the brink of melting. Jerric realized that he was meant to eat directly from the tureen. All of this was just for him. He gave Emfrid a look of pure adoration.

She answered with a cool smile. “May I fix a bowl for your dog?”

Ulfe’s ears pricked up hopefully.

“Yeah. She —” But Emfrid was gone again.

Toward the bottom of the tureen, Jerric looked up to find Emfrid’s eyes on him. He put down the spoon and wiped his mouth.

“I have ill news, Jerric.”

“The Odiils. Do you know what happened?”

Emfrid took a sip from her own tankard. “I heard they found Rallus in the high field, Valus and Antus out by the well. The house and barn doors had been broken down. Animals had been at them, so there’s no telling what occurred.”

“They were attacked is what occurred. Someone broke down those doors. They would only have been barred from the inside. Do they think it was goblins? Captain Bittneld, or whoever investigated?”

“I don’t know, Jerric, only that they’re gone. Valus spoke your name every time he came in here, so I thought you would want to know.”

“He gave me his sword. Chillrend.”

“I know. He thought highly of you. He never forgot that you stood with his boys.”

“He was going to figure out how to cultivate Nirnroot.”

“Well I don’t know about that.” Emfrid topped up their drinks from the keg. “He used to say, ‘May we all come to peaceful ends, and leave our debts unto our friends.’”

Jerric felt a grin tugging his face. “That sounds like an Imperial’s benediction.”

Emfrid raised her mug. “To Valus, Rallus, and Antus. May they find peace.”

Jerric clunked his against it. “May Arkay take away all their harm.”

They drained their tankards. Jerric felt a colossal belch building. Thankfully Emfrid walked over to tend to her other customers before it escaped.

Ulfe finished scouring her bowl against the bar. She lapped noisily at her water and lifted her head before the last swallow, letting it spill out of her jaws as she grinned up at him. Jerric passed her a hunk of bread. Ulfe took it with gentle dignity, then sprawled sideways with her back legs under his bar stool. Jerric shook his head. This was definitely his dog.

An elegantly dressed Altmer woman descended the stairs while Jerric was stuffing his mouth with the last of the loaf. She scanned the room before she came to sit beside Jerric.

She didn’t seem threatening, but the hard look in her eyes gave the lie to her smile. Those lines on her face did not come from laughing. Jerric thought it odd for her to sit there without speaking, but he supposed that an Altmer might not bother to keep up with human customs. Her eyes traveled over him like she was considering a purchase.

“I’m Jerric,” he finally said.

“Earana,” said the Altmer. “Looks like you're handy with a blade.”





.

This post has been edited by Grits: Jul 3 2012, 11:48 PM

[SubRosa]

Coins had a way of slipping through Jerric’s fingers.
*in the voice of Baurus as he wrongly guesses your character class* I never would have guessed.

Ulfe was much fun in the bathhouse, as dogs always are whenever water is involved.

Sad news about the Odills. I guess the goblins finally got them after all.

So it is almost Valentine's Heart's Day? Good timing for Jerric. Let's hope he does not forget it again.

Hmm, the plot thickens with the Odill's. That does not sound like goblins after all. Me wonders if they were murdered for knowing something about Nirnroot?

Her eyes traveled over him like she was considering a purchase.
I love this line.

Now I am wondering if there are too many fingers in the mountain?

[mALX]

*

This was a delightful surprise! Jerric's mind seemed to be wavering between "can't wait to see Abiene" and almost wanting to push to an end of their relationship! What is going on with him?

I'm kind of relieved, mainly because she may have been the one Darnand was holding himself out for - don't want that to be a secret that has to be kept from Jerric, you know?

Hastus had me in hysterics! Jerric seems to attract a LOT of company when he bathes, I'll never forget his bath in the Anvil Mages Guild that was attended by every single member of the guild there, ROFL !!!

Then he had a thought. Was Emfrid flirting with him? His stomach growled before he could decide.

SPEW !!! You owe me a monitor now, hot coffee sprayed everywhere !!

An elegantly dressed Altmer woman descended the stairs while Jerric was stuffing his mouth with the last of the loaf. She scanned the room before she came to sit beside Jerric.

Earana !!! I knew it had to be her, ROFL !!!

Oh boy, now how will Jerric juggle Emfrid and Earana both seeking his attention? ROFL !! Although Earana in the throws of passion with Jerric is probably not what she has in mind (and boggles my mind trying to picture it, ROFL !!)

Absolutely LOVED this wonderful surprise, AWESOME WRITE !!!!


*

[Acadian]

A fun dinner function at the Chorrol guild hall. You really brought some sparkle to the place and it was nice to see Darnand liven up to be in his 'natural habitat'.

’As he turned into the alley behind the Oak and Crosier he scanned the street once more for Abiene’s trim form. He imagined the way she strode along with purpose, wayward curls floating around her head. Then he pictured her strolling at leisure in that white summer dress, a smile in her eyes and sunlight on her shoulders. That led to another lap around Fountain Gate to get his body back under control.’
What a lovely reminder of Abiene!

’Jerric had to laugh. “Yeah.” Only an Imperial could be this reckless with his mouth and still keep his teeth. He winced at the sour wine. “It’s hard work drinking this after Skingrad.”
Nice nod to the Imperials’ racial penchant for charm/speechcraft. Good job bringing Hastus to life so naturally.

“They were farmers.” Jerric gestured with his bottle. “What will you drink when there’s no new harvest?”
Jerric and his priorities. . . .

’The chapel bells tolled the quarter hour as Jerric walked into the Grey Mare. He had lost track of which hour, but it was late. Three young men sat at one table, a pitcher and mugs between them. The dark-haired one strummed listlessly on a lute, and his friends were quiet. Emfrid was working on one of the table tops with a brush and scrubbing sand. She straightened and wiped her hands. Jerric saw recognition dawn in her face.’
Another magnificently worded Grits scene-setting description. Elegant and efficient with a wonderful touch of whimsy!

’Jerric realized that he was meant to eat directly from the tureen. All of this was just for him. He gave Emfrid a look of pure adoration.’
Emfrid surely knows the way to Jerric’s heart. Thanks so much for feeding us in this episode. Yum!

’They drained their tankards. Jerric felt a colossal belch building. Thankfully Emfrid walked over to tend to her other customers before it escaped.’
That’s our Jerric. Smooth as an ogre’s rump.

What a shame about the Odiil’s.

Tantalizing appearance by Earana. . . .

This post has been edited by Acadian: Jul 4 2012, 12:28 AM