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

[Darkness Eternal]

What's with it with Blades and packages?

Where Jerric walks, no humanoid with teats and female parts is safe. Hells, he doesn't even have to be near one to be thinking of one.

Jerric thought of Lildereth asleep in one of the Mages Guild’s big beds. In his mind she lay curled on her side with a hand folded under her cheek. Her hair made a soft fan across the pillow. She’d hardly notice if he slipped in beside her.

Whores and prostitutes . . . does one go for free and the other one demands payment?

In any case, even staying in the Guildhall the brothel and the wanton wares called to Jerric like sugar does a khajiit. I see Jerric has a thing for females that are prego judging by what I believed was the stiffening of what's between his legs. A tug for fifteen isn't too expensive even with the backside slap being a mere tease, but who needs that when he gets beautiful sights to see and things to squeeze?

As always we're given a humorous and fun to read chapter on our adventuring friends! Nice work!

[Grits]

Previously: Bruma. Darnand, Lildereth, and Ulfe are staying at the Mages Guild. Jerric is staying at the Fighters Guild posing as Darnand’s hired guard. Jerric learned that he is expected to report to Cloud Ruler Temple during his stay in Bruma. He is instructed to break off from the Fighters Guild’s Echo Cave patrol when they reach Rielle. Kjestrid, Gjaever, and Shamir-Do will finish the job and return without him. Last night Jerric slipped over to the Mages Guild to sleep, stopping on the way to unburden himself at the brothel. Since he didn’t bother to get dressed or bring his coin purse for the short dash, he traded his boot dagger for services.


King of Beasts: Hi Kobby! Thanks for relaying the message.

Elisabeth Hollow: I have to start my notes on Darnand’s book for Jerric. So far there are two Jerric’s Story’s Stories. Thanks, Elisabeth!

McBadgere: Thank you, McB! Abiene’s Hackdirt interlude is also tickling my imagination, but I might put that in the Postcards thread instead. I’m afraid I’ll start it and then take a year to tell the whole thing.

SubRosa: Jerric’s been relying on self-service for about two story weeks since he left Abiene in Chorrol. You’re so right, he would never have made it five months. I should probably add a timeline to the Darnandex. And not just to keep track of the Nord’s assignations. Thank you, SubRosa!

Acadian: Well, Jerric has made some pretty big mistakes with Lil, but at least he didn’t add a hands-free knock on her door at midnight to the list. Yet. Thank you very much for pointing out the exchange with the tired soldier. That was his truest moment in a very Jerric episode.

King Coin: There’s definitely a connection with the Blades and the Bruma Fighters Guild, but he’ll have to get the details from the Blades. And yes, he’s also getting paranoid. I loved a chance to show Darnand being quietly awesome. Thank you, KC!

ghastley: Oops, Double Sunshine is a real IPA from Vermont. Thanks for catching that! I went back and clarified that the notes were Earana’s, but I’m working on Plan B (post more often )(starting now ). Thank you, ghastley!

Darkness Eternal: Lol, Jerric was trying to demonstrate to Kjestrid that he was listening (because he’s observed that women like that) by providing another example, but of course he didn’t quite say what he meant. Thank you, DE!


Next: Morning after. This part was getting quite long, so I chopped it up and now it is a bit short. There’s a Bosmer and Nord joke there somewhere, but I’m a little too scared of Lildereth to make it.

[Grits]

.

Chapter 17: Bruma, Part Eight

Jerric stepped outside under the fading stars of early morning. It had snowed during the night. Street sweepers moved along behind their wide brushes, just starting to clear the cobbled steps and walkways. Jerric huffed out a cloud and looked through it at the quiet city.

First Seed, he thought. In Anvil they’ll be fishing for soft-shelled crabs. He kept his mind from turning to Kvatch.

A woman approached along his terrace from the chapel side of town, footsteps crunching in the fresh snow. Bare-headed and blonde like nearly half of Bruma’s population. Her long strides were already familiar.

“Kjestrid of the Fighters Guild,” Jerric called out to her in greeting.

“Kjellingsson of Anvil.” Kjestrid stopped at the foot of the Mages Guild steps. She took in his morning hair and bare limbs with a smile. “Doing the walk of shame?”

“Uh,” said Jerric. He scratched his head and then his belly while Kjestrid stood back watching. Her smile turned into a grin. “It’s not what you think,” he finally managed.

“You didn’t just spend the night with your boss?”

“Well, yeah, I did.” Jerric joined her on the street level.

“Good, I didn’t take you for a fibber. Want to go for a run? I’m meeting Jaan. We’ll be back in time to dry off and then start our patrol.” Kjestrid reached out and brushed a hand down Jerric’s arm. “Look, we tease, but we don’t mean a thing by it. You could be bedding the whole Elder Council for all I care. We don’t pay much mind to your Heartlander ways up here. A man is judged by his deeds, not by his rings and robes.”

Jerric’s best guess was that she referred to Darnand’s role as his social better, and that was a knot he should avoid untangling. “Yeah,” he said. “Thanks. A run would be great.”

Kjestrid started moving toward the Fighters Guild. Jerric fell into step at her side. “Jaan doesn’t look like much of a runner,” he ventured.

“Neither do bears, but I wouldn’t want to take one on in a foot race.”

Jerric decided not to debate sprints versus distance until he had downed some kahve and formed a better idea whether Kjestrid and Jaan could run his legs off. “Say, what does that orc cook for breakfast?”

Kjestrid looked like she was going to tease again but then changed her mind. “Anyway, it’s like my Ma always said. Det som göms i snö kommer fram vid tö.”

“Yeah,” said Jerric, utterly confused. “Uh, my Ma used to say that too.”

Kjestrid squinted her eyes at him. “Well, now I’ve seen you try to lie. You’ve never heard that expression, have you?”

Jerric shook his head. “I need a nap already. You remind me of my sister.”

“She must be a marvelous person,” Kjestrid laughed. “Let’s get inside.” She trotted up the Fighters Guild steps.

“Apples!” Jerric said to her back. His knowledge of the Nordic language was limited, but he was not above a guess. If she had the breath to talk while they ran he would be in trouble. Kjestrid opened the door for him before he could grab it. “It was something about snow or apples.”

The Fighters Guild main level resembled a kicked-over diggerbee nest as the militia prepared for departure. A steady stream of folk issued forth from the basement stairs. Kjestrid tilted her head toward the kitchen and set off in that direction.

Jerric didn’t need encouragement to follow. The main hall’s air had been breathed too many times. He couldn’t even smell the kahve until they reached the middle of the corridor.

In the kitchen Vito grated potatoes while Bugshat brushed glaze over a tray of pastries. The castle feeds the militia, Jerric remembered, counting sweetrolls. He hoped the lower level would have cleared out before he had to collect his gear.

Kjestrid took three mugs from their pegs and filled them from a kettle hanging near the fire. She moved to a far counter well out of Bugshat’s way to add milk and sugar. While she stirred one cup she shot an inquiring glance at Jerric.

It took a moment for him to catch up with the situation. “Uh, is one of those for me? No thanks. I mean yes, please, no thanks to the…” He gave his head a vigorous, two-handed scratch. “Just black. Thank you, Kjestrid.”

Jaan shouldered past Jerric and accepted his cup from Kjestrid. A look passed between the two of them. Jaan nodded.

“Jaan of the Basement,” Jerric grunted. He took his kahve from Kjestrid’s warm hand while he returned the big smith’s glare.

“Kjellingsson.” Jaan looked Jerric over from uncombed beard to bare knee. His bushy eyebrows made the remark.

“Join you this morning?” Jerric gritted through his teeth. The man put him on edge. He resolved that before he left Bruma Jaan would get a beating. After he got his sword back.

“Quarter hour,” said Jaan.

Kjestrid walked over to chat with Bugshat.

“Loredas,” Jaan muttered into his kahve. He snorted.

Jerric thumped his mug onto the counter. “Right. Let’s go.”

“Outside,” Bugshat growled at them.

Jaan led the way out the back door and through the kitchen yard. Jerric followed, cracking his knuckles. The door swung shut on his heels and stayed closed. It seemed a brawl before breakfast did not gain much notice at the Bruma Fighters Guild.

They circled for the space of a breath. Jerric jabbed at Jaan’s chin and landed a hook to the gut before Jaan plucked him off of his feet and put him face-first into a snowbank. Damn, that was fast. Jaan worked Jerric’s ribs while Jerric thrashed and ate snow. Jaan let him up before Jerric had to swallow too much of it. He had to admit that given the chance he would have kept Jaan down longer.

Should have buckled my boots, Jerric thought, dumping ice out of one. Jaan reached out to steady him when he wobbled. A slap on the shoulder confirmed peace between them. He couldn’t remember why he hadn’t liked the man.

Kjestrid was leaving the kitchen when they returned. “Meet you out front,” she sang over her shoulder.

Yep. Just like Svanja. Jerric gulped his kahve and followed Jaan back through the main hall and down to the living quarters. They parted ways in the lower corridor, Jerric ducking into the now empty barracks and Jaan heading off to chambers unknown.

Before he dressed Jerric packed for the Echo Cave patrol and climb to Cloud Ruler Temple. The two months he had spent alone in the wilderness before he returned to Anvil had taught him how to live without the support of a chuck wagon. His hand axe, bedroll, ground cloth, and skitt shovel were already secured to his pack. He tucked in his skillet and smallest cookpot, leaving room for provisions. Then he readied his arming hose and doublet for a quick change when he returned from morning exercise.

A Bruma spring is the West Weald’s winter, Jerric thought, digging through his clothing for a running kit. Wool socks and his lightest woolen undertunic would wick sweat away and keep him from chilling. His spare leggings needed a wash. They would do for this morning. He laced a quilted vest over the tunic and bent to fasten his boots.

My ‘lucky’ boots, Jerric thought, grinning. The enchantment to enhance his speed would be most welcome this morning. He would like to impress Kjestrid, or at least for once look a little less foolish. The situation was dire. Any kind of cheating would be acceptable.

Jaan stuck his head through the doorway without speaking. That’s my traveling music. Jerric followed him up the stairs and back out into the crisp Bruma morning.

[McBadgere]

Well, that was pretty special... ...

Jerric shook his head. “...You remind me of my sister.”

“She must be a marvelous person,” Kjestrid laughed.

...I like that muchly...

Loving the atmosphere of Bruma and the Fighters Guild place...

Loved the brief nod to Anvil and the reminder of where it all came from...

The manleh clearing of the air via a manleh brawl was excellently done...Nothing produces mutual respect better than the realisation that the other one could conceivably leather the crap out of you in a full-on drawn-out knock-down fight... ...

As ever...Hugely looking forward to seeing much more...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

This post has been edited by McBadgere: Sep 14 2014, 09:55 AM

[ghastley]

My ‘lucky’ boots, Jerric thought, grinning. The enchantment to enhance his speed would be most welcome this morning.

Nice reminder of that earlier episode where Jerric finds out what the enchantment actually was.

Does this all mean that he gets his sword back sooner, now Jaan's come around?

[Acadian]

What a fun episode! Jerric’s opening reflections upon stepping out of the MG into the cold early morn briefly, but very naturally, reminded us of the road Jerric has traveled to date.

The banter between Jerric and Kjestrid was great – especially the continuing perception regarding his gender preferences.

Jerric fits in with this FG crowd just perfectly. A walk of shame, cup of joe and a brawl. With a run coming next, Jerric is certainly getting his exercise. He is indeed lucky that he has his lucky boots of speed. Like ghastley, I found it nice to remember the story behind those boots.

[haute ecole rider]

It was enjoyable to see Jerric again.

Walk of shame indeed! And half-dressed to boot! Brr!

Loved this line about the FG:

The door swung shut on his heels and stayed closed. It seemed a brawl before breakfast did not gain much notice at the Bruma Fighters Guild.

And that's how they build teamwork in the Fighters Guild!

[SubRosa]

Good to know that the Nords of the 3rd Era still don't care for them Heartlander Ways! At least Jerric's 'cover' is still intact. In spite of who was really doing the tugging...

A brawl before breakfast. Now that is one way to get the blood flowing!

The situation was dire. Any kind of cheating would be acceptable.
Well spoken!

[Darkness Eternal]

Took you long enough Grits

We begin with Jerric doing the walk of shame. I really like Kjestrid. She has a very likable personality and her words ring true: "A man is judged by his deeds, not by his rings and robes.”

Jerric trying to play dumb was priceless, having never heard that Nordic expression before.

What I like about this is that you often go back to Jerric's Anvil days and you add something special into these episodes. The humor and dialogue is great, and the brawl was good, too. That's how Nords do it!!

[Colonel Mustard]

I had a good time reading these last few chapters, and I'd forgotten just how much sheer entertainment Jerric and co could provide. The assumptions made about him and Darnand over at the Mages Guild is both funny and also kind of cute, and I like the way the walk of shame was twisted up, with Jerric walking the Walk, but Kjestrid thinking he was walking from a different place and person.

The morning punch up at the Fighter's Guild seemed like a good day to start the day, and now it's off to Echo Cave and Cloud Ruler Temple!

[Destri Melarg]

I. AM. FINALLY. CAUGHT. UP!

51 pages! Wow, Grits, you are certainly prodigious. You’re like a rabbit... who writes!! I have to laugh when I think that way back when you didn’t consider yourself a writer. How about now? I certainly hope that you don’t consider yourself anything less!

For the sake of brevity and because forty+ pages worth of ‘this is what I liked about x chapter’ would need a thread all its own, I’ll keep my comments confined to the Bruma Guilds. I love the consistent first impression that Jerric always seems to make with new people. I see he and Selena hit it off immediately! I was a bit infatuated with Lildereth when I first met her, but now it has gotten bad. I mean ‘restraining order’ bad. you’re going to have to give her greenspore, ticklebritch, or witbane just to take the edge off for me!

Why does everyone gang up on Jeanne Frasoric? She may be an incompetent little social climber, but at least she has a good disposition. Maybe she does lord it over Volanaro and J’Skar... but, from what I’ve seen of the two of them, they need to be lorded over a little.

Jerric’s conversation with Alga literally made my head hurt... in a good way! I like the detail you’ve added about Honmund’s straying. In my experience though it seems to be Alga who is getting around. She goes on and on about being Honmund’s woman, even as she spends most of my game standing outside Arnora’s house... even after I’ve killed Arnora. Think she’s waiting for Jorundr to get out of the dungeons?

Awww, Bumph is adorable, in a she-hulk kind of way. Like hautee I geniunely regret missing the way it read before you changed it. Sex in the training area with Right-Wind watching might be a little too... cosmopolitan for Bruma (and for Jerric, now that I think about it). Nice to see that the estrogen brigade around here still makes such sport out of male suffering. You know they didn’t come up with the name ‘blue balls’ because it’s not a thing (poor Jerric)!

Something else that struck me in this chapter is how precise you have become in your writing. You were able to breath life into Bugshat (that name will live with me forever now thankyouverymuch) in less space than this comment about him has taken. There are people right now getting paid to write who can’t do that!

The culmination of the Bruma recommendation quest was an absolute riot! I don’t know what part I liked best. Maybe it was Jerric and Volanaro’s conversation after the fact. Lost in all the humor though was the typically brilliant way you set up the ultimate fate of the Bruma Guild. I imagine that, at some point, Camilla’s dire threats are going to come back to haunt bubbly Jeanne. She certainly appears to be rearranging deck chairs summoning scamps on the deck of Titanic.

Jerric’s interlude in the brothel was as satisfying a read as it was, well, satisfying for Jerric. Acadian’s comment had me rolling! One thing that bothered me a little was Jerric’s ‘attitude’ once he left the brothel. I’m sure that, faced with the opportunity, Jerric would have jumped in front of a grizzly if it meant shielding Carla and her unborn child. A man doesn’t do that for someone he has promptly ‘forgotten.’

Edit: Well, as I think about it, maybe Jerric would. I withdraw the complaint.

“Loredas,” Jaan muttered into his kahve. He snorted.

Jerric thumped his mug onto the counter. “Right. Let’s go.”

…

Should have buckled my boots, Jerric thought, dumping ice out of one. Jaan reached out to steady him when he wobbled. A slap on the shoulder confirmed peace between them. He couldn’t remember why he hadn’t liked the man.

Yeah, like buckling his boots would have helped!

A good thrashing and then a slap on the shoulder, no better way to seal a friendship!

The fun you have writing this comes across in every sentence, Gritsy! Sorry it's taken me so long.

This post has been edited by Destri Melarg: Oct 8 2014, 08:58 AM

[Darkness Eternal]

This story deserves a bump . . .

To remind dear Grits to continue Jerric and Darnand's story.

[Grits]

Previously: Bruma. Jerric spent the night in Darnand’s chamber at the Mages Guild and bumped into Kjestrid on the way back to the Fighters Guild the next morning. She invited him to go for a run before breakfast. Jerric and Jaan (of the Basement) had a tussle in the snow.


McBadgere: Thank you, McB! I have a few male friends who I suspect would get along better if they would just wrestle it out of their systems. Here’s more story, finally, and I’ve worked the trouble spots out of my outline hopefully for good. Let’s see how far we get this time.

ghastley: You have anticipated an event in this update! (Sorry it took so long to actually post it.) Thank you, ghastley!

Acadian: Thank you! Jerric has a lot to keep track of when he talks to Kjestrid, the poor guy.

haute ecole rider: I expect that two Nords measuring each up would be as common as dogs sniffing butts in Bruma. Thank you, haute!

SubRosa: Thank you, SubRosa! Jerric’s cover story needs all the help it can get, even accidental. He would not have gotten far submitting an application to become a Blades agent!

Darkness Eternal: I’m glad that Kjestrid comes across as likable. She’s a decent, straightforward, reliable person with no reason to be mean to anyone. Jerric really hadn’t heard that expression before. His parents took pains to leave Skyrim behind, so by the time Jerric came along there was very little Nordic spoken in their household. Thank you for the bump!

Colonel Mustard: Thank you, Mustard! This has been a fun part of the story, with nothing sinister immediately at hand. The Bruma MG recommendation is a ready source of hilarity. A morning punch up is Jerric’s second-favorite way to start any day.

Destri Melarg: Woo, I’m so delighted that you’re back! As you have discovered, this story has not been setting speed records lately. I know someone who would be delighted to give Lildereth a dose of ticklebritch to take the edge off for you. I personally feel for Jeanne who has to operate in Cyrodiil’s least magical city while dealing with a couple of goofballs in her ranks. Still, she accepted the job! You are completely correct that Jerric has not forgotten pregnant Carla. Jerric-‘forgotten’ means he would jump in front of a grizzly exactly the way you described. I should have said she left his mind as soon as he stepped (freshly unburdened) out of the… darnit, I forgot the name of the brothel. It is an absolute joy to have readers who think about the characters and call things as they see them when a character is inconsistent. Thank you so much, Destri!

Everyone: Thank you for bearing with my glacial pace lately. I love the community created here by people talking about and supporting each other’s characters and stories. You folks are awesome.


Next: Jerric goes on a morning run with Kjestrid and Jaan (of the Basement). Then he finally gets out of Bruma.

[Grits]

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Chapter 17: Bruma, Part Nine

Kjestrid’s morning run with Jaan turned out to be a warmup down through the terraces followed by a jog back up all the way to Castle Bruma. It might have helped if Jerric had needed to break in new boots, but otherwise it did not serve to much improve his conditioning. Or Kjestrid’s, Jerric suspected. Jaan, however, had little wind left when they reached the castle. By then Jerric had abandoned reasoning why and simply settled in to watch Kjestrid’s haunches shift under her tunic.

When they turned at the top Jerric paused to look out over the city. Pale pink brightened the clouds over the mountains. Jerric thought of that morning at Cloud Ruler Temple when he had watched Magnus appear over Morrowind. His path this day would take him to Martin. The thought drew him like a lodestone, but left him unsettled rather than centered.

Jaan’s breath cloud began to dissipate. Jerric followed his fellow guild members back down to their hall.

When they reached the Fighters Guild, Kjestrid led them around to the back under the roof’s broad overhang. She and Jaan skinned out of their clothing without ceremony.

Jerric followed suit. He dropped his clothes on a bench next to his boots, picked up a double handful of snow and scrubbed his skin with it, managing not to squeal like an Imperial. He paused when the two ducked into the guild’s sweat lodge.

“There’s no steam unless you make it,” Kjestrid explained over her shoulder. “The heat will dry you off.”

Until I start sweating, Jerric thought, his eyes full of naked Kjestrid. He followed them into the hut and took a seat next to Jaan.

Kjestrid sat down across from them. She leaned back with a sigh, as unselfconscious as a wood elf.

Jerric decided he could get away with one more look. Now that’s a bush, he thought. Thank you, Mother Kyne. Kjestrid’s belly lacked that little fold of skin over the navel that spoke of childbearing. Her breasts confirmed his estimate of her youth. It was harder to guess with the slender races, but gravity took an early toll on Nordic women.

“Where’d you get that?” Kjestrid asked. She pointed at the triple leaf design inked on Jerric’s outer thigh.

“Sutch. Summer of ’23 my team won the tri-city championship.”

“Stickball?” asked Jaan.

“Hogball.”

“You’re small for a hogball player,” Jaan observed.

“Maybe in Skyrim,” said Jerric. “I played for Anvil.” Sweat began to prickle his chest. “What’s..?” he asked Kjestrid, gesturing along his ribs to demonstrate.

She turned and lifted her arm so he could see the tattoo running down her right side. “Moth.” Her fingers traced the shape nearly hidden within the patterns. After a moment she turned to show him the tattoo on her left side. He didn’t need help to see the fox, its head angled over her hip and tail curled back along her shoulder blade.

“Kjestrid gave me this one,” said Jaan, pointing to the bear symbol on his gut.

Given the invitation to look Jerric now noticed parallel raised ridges under the tattoo. They ran from Jaan’s hip up to the spot where Jerric had managed to land a punch. “How’d you get the scar?” he asked.

“Bear,” said Jaan, demonstrating with hooked fingers. He laughed.

Jerric leaned back against the boards, sharing a grin with Kjestrid. His heart suddenly felt like home.

“Is that a wolf?” Kjestrid asked him.

Jerric rubbed the brand on his chest. The Running Wolf logo looked nothing like the Black Wolf of Kvatch, but he floundered for an answer that wouldn’t lead in the wrong direction.

“Yeah,” he managed. “It was uh, an initiation thing.”

Kjestrid twisted around and lifted a hip to expose one rosy cheek. “So was this.”

“Gods,” said Jerric.

“Frost troll,” said Kjestrid, pointing at the scar.

Jerric found himself at a loss again. “What the hells? You were bitten on the backside by a frost troll? What kind of initiation was that?”

“My first job for the Guild!” Kjestrid slapped it and laughed. “They sent me after rats, but that’s not what I found.”

“Rats!” said Jerric. “I thought that was just for me.”

“She was still wet behind the ears then,” Jaan told him. “When did the Guild give you your rat job?”

“Few weeks ago.” Jerric admitted. “I’ve, uh… Yeah. Uh. Since then.” He leaned forward and put his face in his hands. This was getting less relaxing by the minute.

“What about that scar?” Kjestrid asked.

Jerric didn’t need to look to know which one she meant. A dremora’s mace had broken through the plate over his sword arm, pushing jagged metal through to the bone. The wound had festered in the Deadlands. Abiene hadn’t yet managed to dissolve all of the ash. Sometimes it ached with memory when he woke in the night.

“Jealous husband,” he said. “I’m going outside.”

Kjestrid and Jaan joined him while he stood cooling off beside the bench. She was right, Jerric thought. That was as good as a swim, and no need for soap.

A furry face poked out the kitchen door. “The pink ones burn daylight,” Shamir-do called.

Jerric followed the other pink ones at a trot down a back staircase and into the living quarters. A few moments’ hustle got him dressed and ready for arming. He left some of his gear in the cupboard for retrieval on his return, including his Blades helm. This close to Cloud Ruler Temple it was likely that it would be recognized, though he was tempted to find out what Jauffre would have to say if he strolled into the Great Hall wearing it.

Back in the main hall the smells of woodsmoke and breakfast had overcome the militia’s stink. Jerric placed his packs in the row of others on a table near the door. Rhea stood filling a plate at the sideboard. Jerric stepped up beside her. Kjestrid jogged down the stairs from Asgerd’s office as he scooped up some eggs.

“Twenty minutes,” Kjestrid said, joining them. She fluffed her hair with her fingers before she helped herself to breakfast.

Jerric noted Kjestrid’s leather armor. I’ll still wear my mail and plate, he decided. No telling where the path to the Temple will take me.

Jerric took enough fried potatoes to stick with him through any weather. He passed over the sliced ham in favor of thick-cut bacon. Bugshat had made rolls filled with cheese and sausage. Later they would be welcome additions to the Guild’s usual travel rations, so Jerric made a foundation of scrambled eggs on the other side of his plate and stacked a few on top. Then he reached back across Kjestrid and added a slice of ham after all, and then another. It took some fumbling at the end of the sideboard, but he managed to fill up a kahve mug for her. She gave him a crinkle-eyed smile when he handed it to her.

Gjaever and Shamir-do had nearly finished their meals by the time Jerric sat with Kjestrid at their table. He tucked the rolls into his pockets and devoted himself wholly to the appreciation of Bugshat’s efforts. Jerric doubted that his trail rations would include crisp bacon, but he held out hope for another mutton sandwich. Kjellingsson of Anvil. Scorned by smiths, beloved of cooks, he chuckled to himself.

After breakfast Jerric returned to the basement workshop where his gear waited on an arming stand. Jaan sat at a bench repairing a mail shirt. A teenaged Orsimer lass and a tall Imperial man labored nearby.

A sheathed sword lay on a bench next to Jerric’s armor. Redeemer.

“I put an edge on it last night,” Jaan said to Jerric without looking over. “Could of done it yourself, if blades were your craft. I see you know how to use a mender’s hammer.”

Jerric ignored the bait. “Wearing down the edge is my craft.” He checked Jaan’s work while Jaan pretended not to watch. “Would you have let me leave here without it if you didn’t get your chance to drop me in the snow this morning?”

Jaan didn’t respond.

“Batul gra-Sharob’s make,” Jerric said, placing it back on the bench. “Of Kvatch. She lives.”

“Aye,” said Jaan. “I know her mark.” He met Jerric’s eyes for a moment. “Good hunting.”

Jerric made a final stop at the pumps to fill his waterskins before he reported to the staging area. Kjestrid pointed him toward a small pile of gear. Jerric stowed the rations in his pack and put the Guild surcoat on over his armor. Then he spent a moment considering the snowshoes.

Shamir-do’s and Gjaever’s were lashed to their packs. Jerric lifted his pack to the table and did the same. If his technique betrayed that he had never touched a snowshoe in his life, no one mentioned it.

Gjaever led the way out the door and through the streets. The other pedestrians made plenty of room for the group from the Fighters Guild. Outside the North Gate Shamir-do took the lead and Gjaever fell to the rear.

“We might meet Honmund on the road,” Kjestrid said to Jerric.

“Who the hells is Honmund?”

“Alga’s man.”

“Who the hells is… Oh, that blonde.” Jerric sighed. “Thanks for the… warning?”

“He rides a bay paint.”

Jerric simply nodded, unsure whether to encourage her. As pleasant as it was to hear Kjestrid speak, he’d rather not have to think so hard about what she was saying.

They took the road straight across the snowy fields north of the city until it curved west along the edge of the hill country. Jerric stopped with the others and dropped his pack when they did.

“Ever worn snowshoes before?” Kjestrid asked him.

“No.”

“I’ll show you.”

By the time Jerric got his boots bound to the shoes and his pack back on, Shamir-do had disappeared off the road into the trees.

“Just walk normally, heel to toe,” Kjestrid said. “Keep your stance a little wider, that’s all.”

“Got it.” Jerric demonstrated that he did get it by taking a few strides without tripping.

Gjaever muttered something that made Kjestrid laugh. “Yeah,” she said back. “Almost like he’s a Nord.”

Kjestrid took the lead. Jerric followed her through the open woodland, keeping to the track she made. He had seen blaze marks on trees in the Jerall foothills when he had wandered there in the summer. Now they seemed lower as they walked over the snow. Whether they marked a trail or warned of buried hazards, he couldn’t tell.

“Look there,” Kjestrid pointed at a rock arrangement. “That’s what we’re checking. The militia covers far more ground than we can. They’ll make the signal if there’s trouble.”

And one if all is well, Jerric thought. “It’s the same in Anvil.” His eyes kept moving out of habit, checking ground conditions and cover. He looked along the closest ridge running west to east ahead of them. I can follow that ridge to Rielle. Then I’ll find the path up to the Temple.

Shadows slowly shortened as they walked through the morning. Not long after Jerric had eaten his second sausage roll, Kjestrid held up a hand to stop them.

“Shamir-do,” she said.

The Khajiit appeared through the trees, running toward them. “A ring of fire,” he said as they closed. “Guarded by two Nords, and one down. Nords wear the mark of Bruma militia. Khajiit did not speak with them.” He lifted his knees high when he turned around.

Jerric noted the technique in case he needed it later. The cat’s snowshoes were much smaller than his and Gjaever’s, closer in size to Kjestrid’s. He felt part of himself disconnect while his senses seemed to sharpen.

“This is what we train for,” Kjestrid said. She sounded nothing like the cheerful woman from this morning.

Shamir-do led the way in silence across snow marked only by small animal tracks. He must have cut at an angle to find us, thought Jerric.

Within an hour he saw it. Just a glimmer on the ridge, almost lost between the trees. They were too far away to see red sky leaking through or smell the noxious clouds. Where they walked birds still sang of cold spring and Kyne smiled down through quickening branches.

“There,” said Jerric. “That’s a Gate to Oblivion.”

.

This post has been edited by Grits: Apr 22 2015, 03:21 PM

[ghastley]

Hot naked women, lots of food, ... must be a new Jerric story.

Wasn't it a good thing that nobody had any mudcrab scars?

One nit "No telling where the path the Temple will take me." Something got lost in there, maybe "to the Temple"? Through, beyond?

[haute ecole rider]

This isn't the first time I've noticed Jerric's fondness for nude Bosmer women. Guess he'd rather not eat a horse?

Comparing tats and scars! Of course! This is the FG, after all. I wonder if this is just an excuse for ogling each other's nakedness.

[Acadian]

Wonderful to see a new episode here! And thanks for the ‘Previously’ and ‘Next’ little summaries to get us right into things.

’She leaned back with a sigh, as unselfconscious as a wood elf.’ - -

’Jerric found himself at a loss again. “What the hells? You were bitten on the backside by a frost troll? What kind of initiation was that?” - -

’Kjellingsson of Anvil. Scorned by smiths, beloved of cooks,’ - - Yup, that’s our Jerric!

“Batul gra-Sharob’s make,” Jerric said, placing it back on the bench. “Of Kvatch. She lives.”
“Aye,” said Jaan. “I know her mark.” He met Jerric’s eyes for a moment. “Good hunting.”
- - This was a simple but wonderful exchange. As you know, Kvatch holds a special place in my heart, and your treatment of and references to it have always been beautiful.

’As pleasant as it was to hear Kjestrid speak, he’d rather not have to think so hard about what she was saying.’ - - Another ‘Yup, that’s our Jerric!’ passage!

The steam room and attending naked talk of scars and such was a great backdrop for the fun conversations there.

Thanks for the magnificent feed - I know that breakfast is one of Jerric's three favorite meals of the day. Not counting snacks of course.

I think snowshoes were a great idea for the trek north that followed.

Oh noes! An Oblivion Gate!

[Darkness Eternal]

I am happy you brought out another tale. As an active(or almost active) fellow forumite who hangs by this section, it is good to see Jerric continue his story. I can honestly say having him in the roleplays allowed a nice, soft spot for him and Darnand in my heart. And you're a great writer, too.

I have to say I absolutely loved the steam room. In lore, saunas and steam rooms are popular among the Nords and it was a custom that came and went in Cyrodiil. You present it nicely here.

The mouth isn't the only thing that tells stories, I see. Scars tell many tales, too, and often great ones . . . such as the troll bite on his backside. Ouch.

They were too far away to see red sky leaking through or smell the noxious clouds.

Vivid imagery here!

You left us with quite the hanger . . . a gate of Oblivion.

[Kazaera]

Heeey it's more Jerric this is fantastic I am delighted!

I have to say, watching Jerric attempt to be anything remotely resembling a covert operative is rather terrifying. The mind boggles that the Blades actually thought this would work. (Speaking of, I adore the fact that the Blades, in your story, really feel like this shadowy mysterious organisation of spies that Jerric has managed to blunder into and that he is often at loggerheads with). Thank everyone for Darnand thinking relatively quickly on his feet and the FG having an arrangement with the Blades and hence not asking questions, hmm...

Also, I really like what you're doing with Jerric as the Nord from Cyrodiil proper vs the Bruma Nords who are far closer to Skyrim customs - it's an interesting bit of tension you don't see very often and does ring quite true to my own experience of being an immigrant. I should note at this point that I haven't forgotten the hinted mystery re: Jerric's mother's family and something about their origin in Skyrim and am an expecting an eventual pay-off!

In general, I'm deeply curious to see where things go from here - particularly about how Jerric will do at Cloud Ruler Temple and, of course, what will happen with the Oblivion gate. And specifically re this update I have to say: naked sauna tattoo- and scar-sharing time! Only Nords.

This post has been edited by Kazaera: Apr 25 2015, 08:03 AM

[SubRosa]

I was laughing at the part about squealing like an Imperial! They were milk-drinkers even back in the 3rd Era!

Hogball? Is that played with a hog as the ball? Or with a ball from a hog?

Rats? Why is it always rats with the Fighters Guild!

Well that was a pleasant morning with the Fighters Guild, and the gravity-resistant Kjestrid. Right up until that ring of fire. Uh oh, we know what that is!

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Apr 25 2015, 05:54 PM