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

[Acadian]

What a delightfully fun walk down Jerric Lane, complete with some tongue in cheek parenthetical comments that only the clever wit of Grits could provide.

It is wonderful to see this summary. It'll be handy for linking to new readers who may want to catch up and quickly jump aboard Jerric's story.

It has been pure joy to follow the adventures of our lovable Nord and his pals. Gosh, has it really been three and a half years already? May he have many more ahead to enthrall us with. When you say there is quite a ways to go, that’s beautiful music to the big ears of a little blond elf who, if you can keep a secret, is a bit smitten by the big fella who gifted her with an enchanted butterfly toe ring. (Don’t worry though, she’s not about to risk the ire of dear Abiene, Lildereth - or half the other women of Cyrodiil).

[haute ecole rider]

Thank you so much for the update/story so far - it really helps refresh my memory of the sequence of events.

Certain things stand out, others I've forgotten (like Jesan and Jerric heading off to the Elder Council for help).

As always, your asides and comments (Jerric is Jerric, after all, thanks for keeping that forefront for all of us) are enjoyable and delightful.

[Darkness Eternal]

A great summary and detailed work on Jerric's story. I can't thank you enough for posting this. A new reader like me might have felt lost a bit.

I can see that the rest of the story will be equally as good as the previous chapters themselves. Can't wait to read more and I truly mean it!

[King Coin]

Thanks for the summary. There was a lot I forgot about, and it was fun remembering them.

[Grits]

Previously: We had an update on the story so far. Before that the crew camped along the Silver Road headed to Bruma. It was cold.


Everyone: Thanks, folks! I think a game-style Quest Log would be a great addition to the Darnandex. I’ll link to the completed quests where they happened in the story. At the least it will help me do less searching when I want to check something I wrote years ago. That’s a project for December.


Next: Bruma. Jerric and Darnand are seeking their Mages Guild recommendations while searching for Books 3 and 4 of the Mythic Dawn Commentaries. Lildereth still needs some Welkynd Stones to trade for Master Illusion training, maybe. The group includes three horses and a dog.

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Chapter 17: Bruma, Part Two

Mid-day sun glared off the snow as they made the turn toward Bruma. Jerric yanked his hood down to shade his eyes. Then he pushed it back so he could see the mountains again.

“A lot of Nords in Bruma,” said Lildereth.

Jerric glanced over to where she rode beside him. Her eyes glinted back from the shadows between her cloak and hood.

“Won’t see many wood elves, I’d wager,” he said. “Maybe in the brothels. Might be one or two there.”

Lildereth didn’t reply.

“So that folk can have a choice,” Jerric explained. Lildereth had been silent since they started the final climb to the fields surrounding Bruma. He knew he had a better chance of carrying a snowball through the Deadlands than figuring out what was on her mind. Provoking her sometimes solved that problem.

Ulfe romped past, snorting snow. She earned little more than an ear flick from the horses, but her two-legged companions laughed.

“I wonder if she’s been here before,” said Jerric. He glanced back at the elf, wondering much the same thing. Lildereth didn’t offer any information.

Darnand called a halt from his position at the rear. He dismounted and walked over to face an impressive snowbank.

Jerric slid to the ground and unbuckled as he followed, observing the customary distance.

“We got snow in Kvatch, but never like this,” said Jerric. “I’m going to write my name.”

“Boys and their toys,” said Lildereth.

Jerric called back over his shoulder. “Come here and I’ll let you write yours. I can manage the first part at least.”

“Check your spelling,” said Darnand. He had accepted the unspoken challenge.

Jerric checked. “I’m not finished.” He managed the correction.

“His is longer,” Lildereth said to Jerric. He wondered if the elf had already accomplished her own comfort break. What mysteries she hid in the forest, the snow would tell.

“His name is longer,” Jerric said. Darnand finished his work with a flourish. “And look, he didn’t dot his ‘I’.”

“There is no ‘I,’” said Darnand. “I have rendered my name phonetically in Dwemeris.”

Jerric stared at him. “Are you jesting?”

The Breton did not look up from his robe-arranging. The three of them stood back to view the snow bank.

“It’s a good thing we’re not trying to maintain a low profile,” Lildereth said.

Jerric and Darnand exchanged a look. Their boots made quick work of obscuring the names.

“Anything else while we’ve stopped?” she asked. “Carve your initials in a tree? Or perhaps ‘draw’ a map?”

Jerric took the opportunity to attend to some itches. “Anyone else ready for lunch?”

That got Darnand and Lildereth back on their horses. Ulfe stayed behind, giving him a mournful look.

“Sorry, girl. That was a mean trick. Wasn’t meant for you.” Jerric packed a snowball for her to catch before he mounted up.

Lildereth took the lead on her mare Rose. Jerric nudged Kip up beside Darnand on Banner.

“I’ve never been inside the walls,” Jerric said.

Darnand’s breath steamed out of his hood when he spoke. “I am unknown in Bruma, as I have not returned since a single visit as a lad. Lildereth may be acquainted with some at the Mages Guild hall, we will know when we arrive. You need only remember your own name: Kjellingsson of Anvil.”

“Yeah, I know that. I remember.” Jerric’s shoulders eased at the reassurance. He searched the peaks for Cloud Ruler Temple, though he knew he wouldn’t see it. He imagined invisible eyes watching, not all of them friendly.

Wildeye Stables stood in the shelter of Bruma’s eastern wall, a cluster of low timber buildings arranged around a yard. A double row of fir trees protected the pasture from mountain winds. Two Skyrim huskies patrolled the fence line. Jerric glanced around to check on Ulfe. She did not seem interested in the other dogs. He dismounted and joined the business of settling the horses.

As usual Darnand conducted the transaction while Jerric and Lildereth shifted their gear. Jerric was the last to leave the barn. He found Darnand and Lildereth speaking with a yellow-haired Nord woman outside the stable house. She stood with her shoulders back and chest out, apparently unaffected by the wind.

Darnand stepped away as Jerric approached. “My packs,” Darnand said, nodding to where they sat on the ground.

Jerric blinked at him. “Uh…”

“Pick up his packs,” Lildereth hissed.

Darnand shot Jerric an irritated look.

“I’m Jerric,” Jerric said to the blonde woman.

“Petrine.” She crossed her arms under her bosom. Her eyes crinkled up when she smiled.

“Pleased to meet you.”

“You are to bring my packs, Kjellingsson,” Darnand said. He raised his brows in a way that must signify something.

Jerric got the message. Dammit! “Uh, as you say, your high… my lord… sir.”

Petrine looked back and forth between the two of them. Darnand appeared to be at an utter loss.

“They’re lovers,” Lildereth confided to the ostler. “Sometimes they forget how to act when we return to a city.”

Petrine and Lildereth shared a knowing glance.

“I shall go ahead,” Darnand snapped. “You accompany him, elf. Bring my belongings to the guild hall.”

“Uh,” Jerric said to Darnand’s back. “As you—”

Lildereth tugged on Jerric’s arm to get him moving.

“Subtle,” she remarked as soon as they reached the road.

“You lie as easily as breathing. It’s not like that for all of us.” Jerric paused to shift his burdens. “I guess I should have just kept my mouth shut. This close to Skyrim I’m just another Nord.”

Lildereth cast a spell and picked up some of the packs. “Until you start dancing with atronachs and throwing frost around.”

“These Mages Guild assignments haven’t called for much magic.”

Darnand waited near the gate with a storm in his face. “Perhaps we should review our strategy for maintaining an inconspicuous presence.”

Lildereth nodded at Jerric. “This one always causes talk. Now they already have a piece of gossip to chew on, so you can relax. Get over it, Breton. You’re not the first stuck-up semi-noble to get caught balling the help.”

Darnand’s reply emerged as an incoherent splutter.

“Balling?” Jerric laughed at Lildereth.

“You should lead, your high lordness,” Lildereth said to Darnand. Humor still danced in her eyes. “Try to look chastened,” she told Jerric.

Darnand’s glare passed from Lildereth to Jerric. “Please attempt to appear as my escort. Keep the pace a few steps behind me.”

The two complied, falling in behind the sweep of Darnand’s cloak. Ulfe trotted up and took a position behind the Breton. Jerric silently begged her to goose him with her nose, but she maintained her regal bearing.

“He seems out of sorts,” said Lildereth, lifting her chin at Darnand’s back. “I guess he won’t be getting laid in Bruma.”

Jerric gave her a puzzled glance. Getting his stick wet was not on Darnand’s list of priorities, as far as he knew. The elf’s behavior was making less sense than usual.

“You called him a stuck-up semi-noble,” Jerric said. “That’d be hard to hear. Especially from you.”

Lildereth looked contrite. Jerric reminded himself of her skill in illusion magic.

“That’s not how I see him at all,” she said. “It’s just that haughty tone and arrogant expression. A lot of people take him the wrong way.”

“With your tactful ways, I guess you know about that.”

Lildereth’s glance covered his entire person. “So do you.”

Jerric prepared his introduction speech as they approached the gates, but the guards waved them through. Darnand led them up a main thoroughfare past the towering chapel without hesitating. The city climbed in long terraces up to the castle. Cinders and finely crushed stone allowed easy footing on the packed snow. The broad sets of stairs between levels had been cleared down to the stone.

While the road outside had been nearly empty, Bruma’s city streets bustled with activity. Citizens gathered around braziers in the open area between the gate and the chapel. Jerric heard snippets of the Nordic tongue amongst the babble of Cyrodilic. Most folk wore at least a cape of some kind, but many were bare-headed. Darnand cast a spell as he walked. Jerric glanced over at Lildereth and grinned. Her expression was unreadable, masked behind her furs and woolen wraps.

They passed through neighborhoods and shopping districts along the way to the guild halls in the city’s center level. The buildings stood in rows all facing out over the city. Jerric guessed that the fronts were mostly business establishments with private life conducted to the rear. Jerric’s heart lifted at the view over walls to the snowy Jeralls beyond.

Music drifted out the open door of one establishment. The women lounging along the wide porch possessed the inviting smiles and predatory eyes of working girls. Jerric didn’t need to look for the sign. Brothel. We must be near the Fighters Guild.

He turned to Lildereth to make a comment, but she kept her face forward. Banners on the buildings ahead announced that they had reached the guild halls.

Darnand lifted the latch at the Mages Guild Hall and stepped aside for Jerric to shoulder the door open. Jerric did not miss the smug twist of lip. He mentally cracked his knuckles. The Breton was enjoying his role a little too much. Payback would be sweet.

The guild’s entry hall made Jerric feel instantly at home. Timber, stucco, and stone combined made the space both spacious and welcoming. Shelves lined the walls to the left and right around a facing pair of high, arched doorways. Landings with stairs leading up and down were visible through them. No one sat at the entry’s small receiving tables, but a richly dressed Altmer stood browsing through the bookshelves. A redheaded Breton woman was barely visible behind the far counter. Smaller doors stood open behind her, revealing the work spaces beyond.

“Ugh,” said Darnand. “It smells like a scamp in here.”

The Altmer arched an elegant brow in Jerric’s direction. His perfect nose twitched. “I should think that would be an improvement,” the mer declared.

.

This post has been edited by Grits: Nov 2 2013, 04:15 PM

[Colonel Mustard]

I'd forgotten how much fun this story could be. Had some absolutely awesome one-liners in here. I can already sense that it's going to be hugely entertaining to see Jerric try and maintain this alter-ego of Darnand's servant while they're in Bruma.

“They’re lovers,” Lildereth confided to the ostler. “Sometimes they forget how to act when we return to a city.”

Lidereth, you troll!


Looking forward to more!

[SubRosa]

Look like Jerric is envying Boromir for his sunglasses

“I have rendered my name phonetically in Dwemeris.”
Only a magic geek would ever do this!

“I’m Jerric,” Jerric said to the blonde woman.
Just like Captain Jack, he cannot help but to flirt. Especially when he is supposed to be playing the part of the manservant instead!

“They’re lovers,” Lildereth confided to the ostler. “Sometimes they forget how to act when we return to a city.”
Good save on Lil's part. Assuming the stablewoman believed her. She must have, for otherwise she would have probably taken it for a joke and laughed.

“I guess he won’t be getting laid in Bruma.”
Ouch! Lil's got those legs locked together!

Brothel. We must be near the Fighters Guild.
Ouch again! Commander Vitellus resembles that remark!

“I should think that would be an improvement,”
And schwing! for the ending!

All in all a nice introduction to the city of Bruma, with all the typical banter we have come to expect from the Terrible Trio. With all the pictures I have been seeing of Abiene and the gang lately, it felt strange that she was not there as well. But perhaps the Chevalier D'Eon is keeping her busy back in Chorrol?

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Nov 3 2013, 05:08 PM

[Acadian]

You crafted a fantastic backdrop here, where we were forced to squint against the snow glare and pull our furs closer to stay the cutting wind. As ever, you then liberally seasoned the scene with the wonderful banter among the trio that we have come to love.

‘The Breton did not look up from his robe-arranging. The three of them stood back to view the snow bank.
“It’s a good thing we’re not trying to maintain a low profile,” Lildereth said.’
This was priceless! I think perhaps Lil is the only one of the three cut out for this spy stuff.

SubRosa has already quoted several of the delightful little gems you wove into this episode.

I really enjoyed the entrance into the Bruma MG because it felt so much like the game. Volanaro browsing books in his green silks, and even the leftover smell of Jeanne’s fifteen second scamp spell.

[Darkness Eternal]

Lildereth got a bit mum when Jerric mentioned brothels, but she did save them from Petrine

I had a laugh out of fancy Darnand telling Jerric to check out his spelling when writing his name in the snow. This chapter was full of laughs and giggles and I am anticipating to see what the trio will conjure up while in the guildhall. I can trust Lildereth, she's more laid back. Now Jerric and Darnand are synonymous for trouble

[ghastley]

“Ugh,” said Darnand. “It smells like a scamp in here.”

It's going to be a Rosentia cross-over story! The three will have to take a small Breton woman (who shall remain nameless) into a dark cave and leave her with the Daedra. In return Volonaro will teach them a spell to pick locks that Lildereth doesn't even notice being locked in the first place. They will return from the cave to find that the scamps have found Jerric stock of beans, and the resulting build-up of methane has blown up the Guild Hall. The fires may never go out!

Ulfe will remain the star, no matter where the story goes.

[Grits]

Previously: Jerric, Darnand, Lildereth, and Ulfe entered Bruma. At the stable Jerric flubbed his lines completely. Lildereth covered for his awkwardness by “confiding” that he and Darnand (his boss) are a couple. At the Mages Guild Volanaro welcomed them by implying that Jerric smells.


Colonel Mustard: Thank you, Mustard! Jerric is not at his best when juggling lies, and Lil just gave him another one to keep track of. These lighter updates have been fun to write.

SubRosa: I keep looking for Abiene, too. She’s worried that she’ll be forgotten! Lil was quite pleased with her save at the stable. Jerric’s appetite for the Bruma smorgasbord of big blondes and redheads has been on her mind. She’s not sure what she wants from him yet, but she’s sure she doesn’t want him to get anything while she’s deciding! Thank you, SubRosa!

Acadian: I’m glad you liked the familiarity of Bruma so far. I have to make it bigger than the game so that it makes sense in a story, but I very much want to keep the flavor of the Bruma we all know. It’s one of my favorite places in Cyrodiil. Thank you, Acadian!

Darkness Eternal: Thank you, DE! These next few updates will be talk-y and light, so I expect Jerric will put his boot in his mouth more than once again. You got it, Lil was not happy about the convenience of that brothel!

ghastley: Lol. So that’s why the guild halls don’t need fireplaces! Scamps and beans. That sounds like a menu. Thank you, ghastley!


Next: The Bruma Mages Guild.

[Grits]

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Chapter 17: Bruma, Part Three

The Altmer had a pleasant expression on his face. Jerric decided the remark was only meant as an observation. He had to admit that it wasn’t inaccurate. The mer returned to his reading without offering an introduction.

The Breton at the counter raised a fist, gazing up at it in wide-eyed concentration. She grunted as she released her spell. An eddy formed in the air, eventually opening a rift into the Void. They all held their breath with the woman as they awaited what would come.

A stunted scamp dropped through. Its gleeful cackle was cut short as it toppled backward and out of existence the instant its feet touched the floor.

Darnand’s brows went up. Jerric glanced at the Altmer for a clue, but the mer’s eyes remained firmly in his book.

“Why, hello there!” the Breton called out. “You must be new. Oh, it’s so nice to see new faces in the guild!” She produced the scamp again. Now its squawk sounded like a plea.

Lildereth wrinkled her nose at Jerric. He got an idea why this enormous space was largely empty.

“I guess they’re suffering from the ban on Necromancy,” Lildereth murmured. “Perhaps she’s better at zombies.”

Jerric looked at the woman’s friendly eyes and freckled face. It was difficult to imagine her in a filthy robe stripping flesh from bones, but this chapter had once specialized in that school of magic. “Maybe she’s new,” he muttered back.

“Darnand Penoit, Kjellingsson of Anvil, and Lildereth,” Darnand said as they reached the counter. “The Nord and I request recommendations to the Arcane University. Lildereth and I require accommodations here at the guild hall.”

The redhead beamed around at them. “I am Jeanne Frasoric, Wizard of the Guild and head of our Bruma chapter,” she announced. “You seek recommendations, from me? Well, of course you do. Raminus would naturally want my opinion, wouldn’t he? This is a situation we can all benefit from, Associates. You do me a small favor, and I’ll happily send along a glowing recommendation.” She waved her hands at their bags and packs. “But first you will want to situate yourselves. Now, let me see…” She looked around at the now empty hall. “Well I shall do it myself. Follow me, Associates. And..?” She glanced back at Lildereth.

“Journeyman,” said Lildereth.

“Ah, Journeyman.” Jeanne brightened even more. She leaned in as if sharing a confidence, though Lildereth stood paces away. “If you ever need anything, just let me know. I have friends in all sorts of high places, you know, so I can get things done that others can’t. Someday maybe you could return the favor!” Jeanne strode through one of the arched openings and down the stairs.

Jerric smirked at Lildereth. “After you, Journeyman.”

Lildereth rolled her eyes. Darnand led them through to the lower level.

The living quarters were arranged in dormitory fashion with chambers on either side of the corridor. Jeanne continued in her bird-like voice when they reached her.

“You will find our accommodations most comfortable,” she informed them. “We house visiting members as guests of our residents. Each chamber is fully fitted to provide for four mages at work, rest, and leisure. The dining hall is on the upper level, adjacent to the main library. Summoning chambers, practice rooms, cold storage, and our… other facilities can be reached through passageways here and here.”

Darnand gave Jerric a significant look at the words ‘other facilities.’ Jerric simply hauled the bags and hoped he would explain later.

“Aaah, here we are,” Jeanne warbled. She swept into a chamber and made a little twirl, fluttering her hands at the space. “Lildereth, fellow Journeyman Selena Orania will be your host. Please make yourself comfortable on this side of the room. Selena will be your only roommate unless more traveling guild members arrive.”

Lildereth looked mildly pained at the mention of unknown cohabitants. Jeanne’s face bore a wellspring of hope.

“Are you expecting more visitors?” asked Darnand.

Jeanne puffed out a breath. “No.” Then her expression brightened again. “With me, Associates.”

Jerric looked around Lildereth’s room while Darnand followed Jeanne back into the corridor. The chamber held four double beds, each accompanied by a wardrobe, dresser, desk, bookshelf, and side table. Jerric estimated that a tribe of wood elves could camp there and still find elbow room. Lildereth dropped her packs near one desk and began unfastening her cloak.

“You could get lost in here, sprout,” Jerric said.

Lildereth sighed, but her lips made that half-smile. “You’ll wish you were here when you have to share the floor with some greasy orc over at the Fighters Guild. Or worse, a Nord.”

Jerric laughed. “Come find me when you get cold. Or cuddle up with this Selena, if she’s not a bag of bones.”

He turned to find an Imperial woman in a blue velvet gown standing at the doorway. Her short, dark hair bore streaks of silver. She did not look amused.

“Selena Orania,” said the Imperial. “Journeyman and Alchemist. If you have potions or supplies to trade, seek me out. You will find my shop on the main level.”

“I’m… Kjellingsson,” said Jerric. “Pleased to meet you.”

Selena stepped inside without further comment. Jerric felt her eyes on his neck as he walked out into the corridor.

“I’m Lildereth,” he heard the elf say. “Please ignore him. He has received many blows to the head.”

Selena’s voice sounded warmer when she replied. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lildereth. I hope you will enjoy your stay! The Nords here don’t like Heartlanders very much, and we don’t get many visitors with the roads so dangerous these days. Have you traveled far? Has Jeanne shown you the bathing facility? I’ll say this for the locals, they know how to build a steam hut. Though most could benefit from more frequent application of simple soap and water.”

Lildereth’s laugh sounded like a mountain stream in spring. Jerric joined Jeanne and Darnand in the chamber across the hall.

Darnand stood listening to the chapter head. His mouth hung slightly open, and his brow furrowed in disbelief.

“You will find the materials you need in the supply room, adjacent to Selena’s alchemy workshop,” Jeanne was saying. She spun on her heel in dismissal. “Ah, there you are,” she said to Jerric. “I shall now assign your task. If you can find J’skar, I’ll write your recommendation immediately.”

“Uh,” said Jerric. He was beginning to sweat under his armor and cloak, and all of his and Darnand’s bags were hung about his person. The situation seemed informal for official business even by his standards.

Jeanne trotted the few steps to stand in front of Jerric. Her expression held genuine concern. “He’s disappeared,” she said. “I mean he’s really disappeared. No one has seen him in days. Volanaro thinks maybe a spell backfired. If someone from the Council were to stop by and find him gone, it’d look bad for me. I can’t have that. See what you can find out. If you can make J’skar re-appear, you’ll have your recommendation.”

Darnand’s jaw remained slack in the wake of Jeanne’s departure. Jerric separated their gear while the Breton collected himself.

“Inventory,” Darnand growled before Jerric could ask. “She has me taking inventory.”

Jerric had to laugh. “I guess she doesn’t need anything stolen and translated, secretly researched, or illegally enchanted. Say, maybe you could write a spell that would catch her on fire.”

The Breton slowly shook his head.

“You should write the lists in Dwemeris,” Jerric suggested. “Who the hells is J’skar?”

Darnand pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I’ll come back after I check in at the Fighters Guild,” Jerric told him. “See if you can find where this J’skar is, will you? I get the idea these folk are sick of Nords.”

Jerric found the Altmer back at the shelves in the entry hall.

“I’m Kjellingsson of Anvil,” said Jerric, feeling pleased for not stumbling. He shifted the packs so he could fold his hands in the traditional greeting.

The Altmer returned the gesture with a smile. “Volanaro, at your service. Need a spell? Need an item recharged? Need a witty practical joke played on someone? I can handle it all.”

“Pleased to meet you. Yeah, I might need some of that stuff. I have to check my situation with regards to coin.”

“If you have it, I’ll take care of everything,” Volanaro said. “Bruma may look like a Skyrim town, but we’ve got all the comforts and services of the warm Nibenean south.”

Jerric raised his brows. “Really?”

“No, not really.” Volanaro made a face. “It’s a little too rugged up here for me. Add a few hairs to a Nord, and you’ve got a bear!” He laughed.

At least he seems honest. “Ha,” Jerric said. “Say, who’s J’skar? Know where he is?”

“Hmm? Oh. Jeanne has you looking for him, does she? I’m afraid you’re not going to find him easily. I think a, uh, spell backfired. That’s probably it.”

Jerric recalled Volanaro’s offer of a witty practical joke. He began to doubt the wit part.

“Well, I’ll take my leave.” Jerric turned at the door to test his theory. “What do you think of this nose?” he asked, pointing to his frequently altered appendage.

Volanaro replied immediately in the same cheerful tone. “I’ve never heard of a Staff of Ugly, but now I know one exists.”

Jeanne strode through the side door as if she had purpose. She cast the scamp spell when she reached the counter.

Volanaro flinched. Jerric headed out into the clean mountain air.

Ulfe greeted him with a nose in the crotch the moment he stepped through the door. “You were smart to stay out here,” he said, roughing up her ears. “You could smell that scamp from the front gate, I’d wager.”

The Fighters Guild Hall stood next door. Jerric paused beside the steps.

Folk on foot passed at speeds from saunter to trot. No one turned in at the Fighters Guild. Nor at the Mages Guild. Jerric supposed the Bruma population was made up of a hardy sort that settled their own disagreements and had little use for magic.

The chapel bells rang the hour.

Or they’re all thinking about lunch. Jerric’s stomach rumbled.

He had a foot on the lowest step when a Nord woman caught his attention. Blonde and well-dressed without cloak or hood. Her eyes were locked on him. Jerric put his foot back on the ground and enjoyed the view while she approached.

“You have the look of a hired sword,” she said, stopping in front of him.

You have the bosom of a wet nurse. “I’m Kjellingsson of Anvil.” He nodded at the guild banners. “If you need a guard, you’ve come to the right place.”

“I thought it was you when I saw your shield. Petrine was right. You sound like you’re half-asleep when you talk.”

Jerric looked back up at her face, but she wasn’t familiar. “Have we met?”

“I’m Alga. Bard and trainer in the Art of Speech.” She put out her hand.

Jerric tried to turn it in the Imperial way, but she gripped his palm and shook it like a man.

“Pleased to meet you,” he said. “I just got here. My first time in Bruma.”

Alga stood with her feet planted as if she might throw a punch. “Bruma’s a funny place. Half Cyrodiil and half Skyrim. I’m old Nord all the way. I keep the old songs and stories alive.”

“I know a few stories myself,” Jerric told her. “Is there some place we —”

“Honmund is my live-in partner,” Alga interrupted. “We live together in the old Nord way. Good enough for my Fa and Ma, and good enough for me.”

“Uh,” said Jerric. “Yeah…”

“We have a word for Nords like you. Colovians. No offense, but I don’t want to hear any ‘Mara Mother Mild’ and Chapel family business.”

Jerric blinked at her. Ulfe was a Colovian hound, but he failed to make any other connection. “Did you just insult my dog?”

Alga leaned in, her pretty eyes cold as a glacier. “We may not wear your fancy rings, but make no mistake. Honmund is my man.”

Jerric and Ulfe exchanged a look as Alga marched away. “What the hells? ‘Art of Speech’ my furry backside. That woman is touched by Sheogorath.” He shook his head. “Let’s go inside.”

.

This post has been edited by Grits: Nov 7 2013, 02:33 AM

[ghastley]

I'll admit I didn't catch "in Dwemeris" the first time through - subtle!

I liked the way you portrayed Jeanne. I can almost imagine her as being brighter than she appears, and summoning smelly scamps just to get back at Volanaro. I'm sure he'd do the same for her, if he'd thought of it first. She's always struck me as having her position because she's a good book-keeper, not as a mage, and she's embarrassed at not having the magical skills. Much like the player can rise up in the ranks without casting a spell, she's done the same, on the business side of the Mages Guild. It makes perfect sense that Darnand gets an inventory job.

Alga left me as confused as Jerric, and I loved the way he thought she'd just compared him to Ulfe, and that the dog should be insulted!

[King Coin]

17-2

I’m sure Lil wants to know all about the brothels.

I like Lil’s comment while the guys are taking care of business. Jerric better make sure to write his ‘cover’ name.

Oh my gosh this is hilarious! They even thought to cover their names. And then at the stable Lil made sure Jerric couldn’t mount the woman later! I’m glad to see Lil in a good mood.

[SubRosa]

Jerric glanced at the Altmer for a clue, but the mer’s eyes remained firmly in his book.
This says even more than an actual verbal explanation!

but this chapter had once specialized in that school of magic.
Ewwww. Just as well it gets burned to the ground then.

Cold Storage? The previous mention of necromancy makes me wonder just what was stored in there in the old days!

He turned to find an Imperial woman in a blue velvet gown standing at the doorway. Her short, dark hair bore streaks of silver. She did not look amused.
Another shining example of that Jerric charm we all know and love so well!

I guess she doesn’t need anything stolen and translated, secretly researched, or illegally enchanted.
Isn't it funny how access to the most prestigious university in the land has nothing to do with academic ability! Then again, it does explain people like Jeanne...

And finally a weird encounter with Alga (not to mention a slightly dense Jerric). Another fun installment in the JS.

[haute ecole rider]

I thoroughly enjoyed the two most recent installments of the Jerric-Darnand-Lilderith saga. The little wood elf endears herself to me more and more just by being herself. And of course the two men are a riot!

I loved that smarmy comment of Alga's - after what Lil told Petrine, I have no question what Petrine told Alga! "Leave my man alone!" Indeed!

[Acadian]

Bruma had specialized in Necromancy! How wonderfully clever. I like to think of Kvatch’s specialty as Alchemy and this answers a wonderful question regarding more guilds than schools.

You did a wonderful job with Jeanne. In fact, I enjoyed the way you worked in so many of the Bruma guild little quirks. Like this:
‘Volanaro made a face. “It’s a little too rugged up here for me. Add a few hairs to a Nord, and you’ve got a bear!” He laughed.’

“I’m Lildereth,” he heard the elf say. “Please ignore him. He has received many blows to the head.”

Ahah, so the boys have their recommendation tasks. Hmm, Jeanne is more astute than she seems, for inventorying is perfect for Darnand (to his chagrin, no doubt). And if Jerric’s a great choice to ferret out the butt of a joke.

‘Jerric and Ulfe exchanged a look as Alga marched away. “What the hells? ‘Art of Speech’ my furry backside. That woman is touched by Sheogorath.” He shook his head. “Let’s go inside.”
- - Wow, that was quite the encounter with the Artist of Speechcraft. I agree with Jerric and Ulfe!

[Darkness Eternal]

These next few updates will be talk-y and light

Hey, chapters that are mostly talking are just as good as the one that aren't. If it helps build character or further the story, then it is welcome.

So it was fast and easy, this meeting with the Altmer. Jerric just had to follow the journeyman

“I’ve never heard of a Staff of Ugly, but now I know one exists.”

I had a laugh out of this one. Hilarious. If I ever see Jerric at the Goblet, I'll make sure to point at is nose.

So before necromancy was banned by the air-heads of the university, it was actually a school in Bruma. Wow. Interesting. Why do I have the growing feeling that they're going to screw something up? I trust Lildereth will keep them in line, or at least try to until they get their recommendations.

[Grits]

Previously: At the Bruma Mages Guild Jerric was given the task of making a missing guild member reappear. Darnand was assigned to inventory. Jerric and Ulfe headed next door to the Fighters Guild where Jerric plans to stay while in Bruma. Alga stopped them in the street to inform a puzzled Jerric of her and Honmund’s relationship status.


ghastley: Thank you for mentioning that Dwemeris remark! When running jokes take a week or more to pop up again, I worry that they’re missed. I’m glad you’re enjoying my take on Jeanne. Like you I see her as excelling at administration and politics rather than magic, given her position and reputation in the game. Plus the Bruma chapter is hardly the jewel in the Guild’s crown, so I could easily picture someone shuffling her out of their way to the far north with a sigh of relief. Thank you, ghastley!

King Coin: You got exactly what was on Lil’s mind when she covered Jerric’s awkwardness with a lie he’d have to maintain. When she said ‘He’s not getting laid in Bruma’ about Darnand, she meant you’re not getting any Nord chick action to Jerric! Thank you, KC!

SubRosa: Thank you, SubRosa! It was fun to show Jerric putting his boot in his mouth with the cool and elegant Selena. We mostly see him interacting with people who like him, but not everyone does! He’s a southern Nord in a town where the Imperials don’t like Nords and the Nords don’t generally care for southerners, so he’s way out of his element. Plus he couldn’t concentrate in proximity to Alga’s prodigious bosom after days on the road. He’ll eventually get what she was telling him.

haute ecole rider: Yep, you got what was on Alga’s mind when she tracked down the fresh meat Jerric. The light won’t dawn for him until this segment, though. I’m glad you’re enjoying Lildereth. She seems especially elfin to me in this town of big Nords. Thank you, haute!

Acadian: Thank you for your endorsement of Jerric’s world’s Jeanne. She is as you suspect more astute than her lame scamp and rabid politicking make her seem. Jerric’s reference to Darnand’s past guild shenanigans was his sideways speculation that Jeanne might not be a moron. After all I expect that Darnand will not get into trouble doing inventory. Thank you, Acadian!

Darkness Eternal: I’m glad you liked Volanaro’s line. He strikes me as someone who would always have a witticism ready. Jerric’s poor nose is inspired by a real-life nose I know. It’s been broken so many times there’s hardly any of it left! Thank you, DE!


Next: Jerric heads out to introduce himself and drop off his stuff at the Bruma Fighters Guild.

.

Chapter 17: Bruma, Part Four

Fighters Guild halls must smell the same in any county, Jerric decided. He held the door open for Ulfe while he stomped snow from his boots.

Inside an Orsimer and an Argonian stood talking in a dining area large enough to host a scurling competition. A sunken practice floor of about the same size was empty but for a scattering of dark bottles.

Ulfe trotted straight to the fireplace beyond the dining tables. She flopped down and rolled onto her side with a groan.

The orc called out to the air as she started over toward Jerric. “Nunzio! Hey, Nunzio!” Her disgusted snort produced a fine spray of something. “Ah, fetch it. Fetch him, the fetcher. What do you want?” The last was directed at Jerric.

“Work and lodging.” Jerric dropped the packs and braced himself in case she tried to take him to the floor in some kind of Wrothgarian greeting ritual. “I’m Kjellingsson of Anvil. Apprentice.”

She put her fists on hips and looked him over. “Bumph gra-Gash, Protector. The lizard’s Right-Wind. You can find a bed down in the barracks.” She nodded to indicate a doorway beyond the dining area. “Kitchen’s around back. Make yourself at home. Asgerd will check the rolls when she gets back. If you lied to me, I’ll eat your heart with a side of balls.”

Jerric hung up his cloak and dropped his gauntlets on a battered side table while she spoke. “Are you asking for a beating or a date?”

Bumph tipped her head back and made a grimace that Jerric took as a smile. “Try me.” She got him out of his armor and into the sparring area before he had time to think.

Jerric had added some of his blood to the stains on the floor mats by the time the front door opened again, admitting a group of fighters. They entered the hall with loud feet, clanking metal, and voices raised far more than necessary. Jerric recognized the signs of guild members returning from a successful mission.

Bumph let go of Jerric and walked over to hear the first report. Jerric scrambled up and retrieved his shirt.

As hoods and cloaks were hung up Jerric noticed that Nords and Imperials made the bulk of the group. His attention was drawn to a square-jawed blonde when she pulled off her helmet and turned it to examine the back. “Nord is lucky she was only struck upon the head,” a Khajiit told her, and she laughed.

The woman’s hair was cut straight across her brow and around her head at chin level. It stuck in strings to her forehead and wide cheekbones. Her surcoat and greaves were decorated with blood, and a fine spray of dark droplets had dried across her nose. She looked broad at the shoulder and long in the legs, if Jerric could judge by the look of her armor. A sword hilt was visible over one shoulder.

Jerric’s eyes returned to her face just before she finished looking him over. Her clear blue eyes made him think of the West Weald sky in autumn just after sunrise. When her appraising glance met his, she gave him a wink.

“I’m Kjestrid,” said the woman.

Jerric grinned. “Kjellingsson of Anvil. Pleased to meet you.”

“Petrine said your nose looked like a mining accident. She wasn’t jesting.”

Jerric began to feel nostalgic about Imperial manners. “You Brumese are a forward bunch. Some woman walked up and told me she was spoken for right out in the street. What’s that about? You people never met a Gold Coast Nord before?”

Kjestrid laughed from her belly. “That must have been Alga. Honmund is prone to stray. I’m sure she’s also had a word with your boss by now. Don’t take it personal. That’s just her way.”

“Yeah, her ‘Art of Speech.’” Kjestrid’s meaning suddenly became clear to Jerric. Lildereth and her mouth. Darnand’s not the only one who’s not getting laid in Bruma. I’ll kill her.

“Something like that,” said Kjestrid.

“Well anyway, I’m staying here while I’m in town.”

“Not with your friends?” Kjestrid still smiled as she turned away. “I don’t live here, but you can confide your troubles to Bumph all night if you like. She’s a heavy sleeper.”

The fighters dispersed in the manner of folk who were eager to get on with the drinking. From their packs Jerric guessed that they had been away at least overnight. He decided to follow their lead and get his own gear organized.

Down in the barracks Jerric tossed his bedroll onto a bare mattress and stowed his packs in the adjacent cupboard. An image of Darnand and Lildereth reclining on featherbeds and silken pillows passed through his mind. Huh, he thought, denying his regret. Soft-bellied mages.

The smithy was in the lowest level. Jerric unloaded his equipment onto a work bench between Kjestrid and Right-Wind. Most of his gear only needed routine care. He picked up Atronach’s Redeemer and approached the smith.

“Loredas,” the Nord told him after a single glance.

“I’m Kjellingsson of Anvil,” said Jerric.

“I’m Jaan of the basement. And don’t try to sweet-talk me. You’ll get your blade back on Loredas.”

Jerric looked around to see if there was someone behind him, but the man was addressing him. “That’s in two days! I need my sword so I can work.”

Jaan snorted. “Heartlanders. You think you’re the only one around here who swings a bit of metal? Everyone here wants to work. Go train or drink or fight, Nunzio said you can take a punch. Or sit on your thumb for all I care. Loredas.”

Jerric wondered when the porter had found time to describe his thrashing to this basement-dweller. “Is there another place I can go in Bruma?”

Jaan pointed his hammer at the door. “Sure. Go hump yourself.”

Jerric left his blade with Jaan and returned to his station. “What the hells is he going to do with it for two days,” he muttered, hanging his armor on the rack.

Kjestrid was busy with rags and oil. She didn’t spare him a glance, but there was a smile in her voice. “I don’t think Jaan has ever been so kind to an Apprentice,” she remarked.

Right-Wind let out a dry, hacking sound. Jerric realized it was his laugh. “They did not even throw anything,” the Argonian said. “They must like you.”

Jerric finished cleaning his armor before the others. Road grit was easier to remove than gouts of blood, and his empty stomach drove him to rapid work. He packed up the supplies and left his gear arranged ready for use.

The smell of roasting meat drew him up to the main level. He found the hearth empty. Nunzio was picking up mead bottles in the training area.

“Hey, have you seen my dog?” Jerric called.

“Nope. Ask Bugshat. I saw him down here a little while ago. He might know.”

Jerric snorted. “Bugshat? Are you jesting?”

“Bugshat’s the cook. Yeah, he’s an orc. No, I’m not jesting.”

She probably followed her nose to the kitchen, Jerric thought. The aroma got stronger as he passed down a corridor. Then another idea began to form in his mind. With a shock, he identified the smell. That’s roasting dog meat!

Jerric took the last steps in a single leap and barreled into the kitchen. A mountain of Orsimer stood slicing onions at a long work table. An Imperial lad scrubbed potatoes in a stone sink. Another Imperial straightened up from where he had been peering into a wall oven. Jerric could see a side of meat roasting there.

“What have you fetchers done with my dog?” he bellowed.

The orc put down his knife and picked up a cleaver.

The Imperial lad pointed with a shaking potato. “Th- There, she is. I hope it’s all right, I gave her a bone.”

Ulfe lay at the kitchen’s far end in front of the bread ovens. She had her mouth on what Jerric guessed might be a mammoth femur, but it would take a larger beast than she to actually chew it. Ulfe tilted her brows in a doggy smile when she saw him. Her tail thumped the flagstones.

The young Imperial’s voice still wavered. “I just let her have it for a while. I’ll need it back to get at the marrow.”

Jerric knelt down and rubbed Ulfe’s distended belly. “What else did you give her?”

“Dog food,” rumbled the orc.

Jerric glared at him. “Fattening her up?”

“That one’s too stringy.” The orc went back to slicing onions. “I’ve met some numb-headed Nords, but none fool enough to think I had their hound on the fire.” He jerked his head at the other Imperial. “Vito, get this man a sandwich. He’s had a shock. Tonio, no one’s murdered you yet. You’re going to have to finish those potatoes.”

Vito produced a slab of mutton layered with cheese and mustard between two slices of brown bread. He placed it on the bare tabletop along with a bottle of ale.

Jerric made a silent toast to them all and tucked into his snack. “I’m Kjellingsson,” he said between bites.

“Bugshat.” The orc gave him a look. “Go ahead, I won’t take offense. You should hear what your name sounds like in the Orsimer tongue.”

A moment later Jerric had another realization. “Are you going to cook with the bone my dog is chewing on?”

“Don’t worry, she won’t be able to finish it.” Bugshat’s lip curled up in amusement.

Jerric saluted with his sandwich. Here was a kitchen he would not mind working in.

He gave Ulfe’s belly another rub before he set off in search of the chapter head. He found her office on the upper level.

Asgerd turned out to be a Nord woman of middle age with deep shadows under her eyes. Her steel-grey hair was cropped in the manner of one who wears a mail hood. Jerric presented himself in front of her desk.

“Have a seat.” She gestured to a chair against the far wall.

Jerric dragged it over and sat down.

Asgerd got straight to the point. “Azzan reports that you’re a battlemage. Jerric.”

Jerric tucked his fingers under his thighs to keep from pulling his hair out. “Yeah. Uh…”

“I’m an associate of your uncle,” Asgerd said. She waited while Jerric unraveled the code.

Jauffre. He let out a gust of breath. “Yeah.”

“He’d like to see you while you’re in town.” Asgerd shifted some sheets of parchment. “I could use you on a contract as well. I have something that will suit. Have Right-Wind put you through a workout. He’s my blade trainer. I’ll give you an assignment when he’s through with you. There’s no need, but it’s customary.”

Jerric nodded. He guessed that the rest of the guild members had no knowledge of his situation.

“We’ve done some training with the Mages Guild in Anvil,” Jerric said. “My partner Darnand Penoit is a summoner. Between the two of us we could help you train against a few varieties of daedra.”

“Azzan has shared your idea. Our local Mages Guild chapter is… not responsive. I haven’t received a reply from Frasoric.”

Probably not one of those friends in high places, Jerric thought. “I don’t know much about the Bruma guild. I can ask around and see what folk there can do. If they’re University trained they would have at least some knowledge of daedric summoning.” Jerric recalled Jeanne’s pitiful scamp. He hoped the others had more to offer. “Anyway, Darnand and I can show you a few things. We should do it outside. There’s always fire.”

“I’ll arrange it for after you return from your contract. Your rank doesn’t reflect your abilities. Show them what you can do, and they’ll more readily accept your command.”

“All right,” said Jerric. Command. Dammit.

He jogged back down the stairs to find Right-Wind.

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This post has been edited by Grits: Nov 16 2013, 11:42 AM

[Elisabeth Hollow]

So Jerric has experienced orc sex. Go Jerric XD

I finally understood why that woman freaked out and told Jerric was with Hommund.

Omfg XD

And Ulfe got a snack!! Neither Kayla nor Samara will be joining the Fighters Guild XD