Old Habits Die Hard Part Six, some old habits never die Options

[treydog]

26.1

You describe the cold of Sancre Tor and the mountains so well that I had to put on a warmer shirt.

The inspired use of the summoned skeleton to fight his counterpart was a real treat. Using the back side of the katana instead of the edge also shows that this is not Julian’s “first dance.”

26.2

"The klah not only warmed me, it also softened the waybread so I could eat it quickly."

Yep. Just like in the American Civil War. Dip the hardtack in the coffee to soften it- and to drive out the weevils so they could be brushed off.

The fight against that first ghost was wonderfully described- I could see every flash of magic.

"It’s not impossible, Julian. It’ll be just like sparring with Ferrum. But Ferrum isn’t trying to kill you, my sensible side stated flatly."

Please do listen to that sensible side!

26.3

The memory of her early training provided a wonderful insight.

The sword-salute by Rielus was simply magnificent- as was the entire fight.

"A thousand sextets of ants’ feet crawled up my back beneath the fur-lined tunic at his words."

Now THAT is evocative writing!

“I’m no hero,” I answered automatically before I could stop myself. “But I am a Blade sister, and you have but to ask.” A sense of pride moved through me. Yes, I am a Blade sister, and yes, he can ask a favor of me

And that makes me want to stand and cheer.

Nit:

We faced each other for a eternally short moment.

Julian’s concentration caused her to drop an “n” there…

26.4

The atmosphere of Sancre Tor is palpable in your words as Julian carries us toward the next fight. And the training poem was a perfect bit of world-building and background.

Julian’s thought processes add so much depth to the story- they show she IS a veteran- and that she survived for a reason.

Eep! A cliff-hanger ending! Thankfully, slow old doggie that I am, the next part is ready and waiting for me…

26.5

"Daedra Slayer slid beneath his guard and smashed through his pelvis. The curve of his hip bone guided the tip of my katana into the base of his spine. "

Even though Valdemar is a skeleton, that made me cross my legs involuntarily.

And another mystery- Valdemar is twice-cursed it seems…

26.6

"For a moment I forgot another truth as old as war: No operational plan survives contact with the enemy."

Yes- that is why he is called “the enemy.”

And the fighting style description is simply wonderful- and something I had not seen previously.

I would grumble about the cliffie- but it did not hang me…. Someone ought to severely batter the writer who made those cliff-racer- um cliff-hanger endings such a staple. Oh- wait….

26.7

Ah-ha- the great “Frisbee gambit!” Now if only her opponent had been a skeletal border collie…

No words can convey the beauty and heart-stopping magnificence of that fight.

And the poignancy- on both their parts- as Julian speaks with Casnar’s shade…. No more than we have come to expect from you, but wonderful all the same.

“Brother, your cleaver shall hang in a place of honor in the Hall of Blades,” I said to him. And I should recover the old katanas from the others, too. When I’m finished clearing this place I will do so.

Of course she will. This is Julian, after all.

26.8

"Never mind how I feel right now. I have to finish this. Blanco, and Martin Septim, are waiting for me to return."

Good to see she has her priorities right- horse, THEN emperor.

26.9

"Take a cut to break a bone."

Or, as Carbo said- “Sometimes, you must sheathe the blade.”

"Alain regarded me a moment longer. "You will find out someday. I see pain and loss in your past, and in your future. But beyond that, joy and hope awaits. Get through the dark times ahead, and you will find light and freedom."

Powerful and moving.

26.10

The “departure” of the Four was worthy of their lives and their service. And, whether she believes it or not, Julian has proved herself as one of their company. And yes, there was perhaps a suspect bit of moisture in these old eyes, too.

Equally moving was the reunion with Blanco.

This whole chapter is a classic- desperate battles, curses broken at last, a new hero taking her place beside those from long ago.


Nits:

Something went wonky with the numbering here- the forum shows it as 26.5

“After fighting my way out of the Catacombs and wading through ice-cold water to return to the mezzanine, I finally returned to the crypt where the Reman emperors rested in their final sleep.”

The “returns” in close proximity seem to stir my inner thesaurus. Perhaps “…I finally reached…” instead of "returned to"?

[Acadian]

An intriguing description of the Sunbird and its mastery of all things dance-related. Followed by more wonderful history of the fab four.

“I haven’t been one of you for long,” I set my mug down on the table next to me. “And I’ve spent more time away than I have here since. But I couldn’t help but consider them my brothers too.”
How very Julian!

And off to Miscarcand. If you were trying to infect your readers with the fear and dread that gripped Julian here, you did a darn fine job of it!

Now Rider. . . um, surely Julian can't go off to such a dangerous ruin on an empty stomach (hint, hint). . . .

[SubRosa]

Julian's describing the Sunbird Dance by describing the actual sunbirds was an excellent touch! I could see how you were subtly showing the qualities of the bird within the dance long before Julian actually explained it. The Mad Hoosa on the other hand, just sounds icky!

Now it is off to Miscarcand we go! That is one big ruin. It looks like Julian is going to be getting that experience in Ayleid Ruins after all. Maybe she should hire a guide? I hear there's a stringy red-head down in Bravil who knows her way around those places...

[Grits]

Great screenshot of Julian and Martin. Is her hair growing in darker? I enjoyed listening in on this conversation around the fire. I think we have enough information to guess that Julian is a Blademaster, but she is the most qualified to decide. I wonder if the subject will come up again.

I like that Julian is not thrilled about diving into another Ayleid ruin, and Martin is thoughtful about sending her. I guess that was on his mind when he was staring into the fire earlier. Or perhaps he was hoping for a nice hot meal…?

[haute ecole rider]

@Olen: Good that you enjoyed the explanation of the Sunbird Dance. I wanted to convey that it is a philosophy of combat, rather than a discipline like tae kwon do. I'm sure it crossed Steffan's mind to offer assistance, but given his responsibilities, he'd probably end up sending someone else in his place, and I'm not sure he's too thrilled with that idea.

@treydoggie: Loved your comments, as always. You have a way of pointing out the humor in serious situations. Both Julian and I had a chuckle over the image of a skeletal border collie jumping for that shield!

@Acadian: Not to worry! Julian cooks herself up a bit of a camp dinner before heading into that ruin. While it's not the repast we typically see at Cloud Ruler Temple, I hope it's sufficient to tide you over until we return to civilization.

@SubRosa: I used my knowledge of animal behavior for that one! As for the Mad Hoosa, I found this really cool website that had images of some of the creatures you might expect to find in Hammerfell(click on Tamriel Rebuilt Artbook link). And isn't Teresa busy enough fighting trolls at the moment?

@Grits: I'm glad you liked the screenie. No, her hair just looks darker because of the lighting. As for whether or not Julian is a Blademaster, I doubt it will come up again before the end of the MQ. Yes, I think Martin was reluctant to ask this of Julian - after all, she's brought back the Mysterium Xarxes, found a daedric artifact, and fought undead in Sancre Tor to bring him an ancient cuirass! What more does she have to do?? Unfortunately, she remains the best woman for the job.

Martin has asked Julian to enter Miscarcand, a vast Ayleid ruin, to find the Great Welkynd Stone. He has already warned her that it ain't gonna be easy! So we find Julian doing a little bit of recon in the rain.

*****************
Chapter 28.1: A New Companion

I crouched in the rain, peering northward toward where I knew the ruins of Miscarcand lay. The downpour kept me from seeing more than a couple of broken arches on the southern fringes of the complex.

Behind me Blanco snorted and pawed at the ground. I glanced at him over my shoulder and shushed him. He dropped his head and nudged my shoulder with his nose, nearly unbalancing me. His dark eye glinted mischievously at me, water trickling down his long nose from his wavy forelock.

Stifling a laugh, I pushed his muzzle away. “Give me a few moments more, friend,” I murmured to him, turning my gaze back to the small part of the Ayleid ruin visible in the grey rain. I wanted to see what inhabited the surface ruins before I approached the underground city.

The bandit camp that overlooked the ruin sprawled across the valley floor below was empty. Hugh Berennus had told me that he had cleared it just the day before, leaving only a dog alive. That dog watched us warily from the shrubs surrounding the camp. For the moment, I ignored him. As long as Blanco was unconcerned about the animal, I wouldn’t worry about him attacking us.

After a few more moments of futile peering through the rain, I gave up and retreated to the small circle of tents. Blanco followed me and waited while I dried the firewood with the flare spell, then stacked them in the firepit. As the flames caught bravely against the rain, I unsaddled Blanco and set the tack inside the largest tent. A trunk, containing little of interest, had more value to me as a saddle rack. I wiped the leather dry, and did the same with the bridle. I looked out again to see Blanco grazing just beyond the ring of tents.

The bandit dog had crept out from the shrubs and alternated his gaze between Blanco and I. A dark brown in color, he had white on his muzzle, on his four feet and the tip of his downcast tail. The firelight flickered on the dark discoloration in his right shoulder. When I stepped out with a slab of mutton to roast over the fire, the dog retreated into the shrubs, his tail down and his right foreleg dragging wet trails in the grass.

He’s hurt. Is that why he hasn’t been so aggressive? He certainly seems afraid, but curious at the same time. Or is he hungry? If he’s unable to hunt with that shoulder, he must be starving by now. I wonder - I didn’t finish the thought, but instead set the mutton on the spit the bandits had so thoughtfully left for me.

With a handful of grain from the saddlebags, fortunately waterproofed against the weather, I whistled to Blanco. He recognized the signal and walked up to me, dropping his nose to my cupped hands. Again the dog crept out from his hiding place as Blanco chewed happily at the sweet feed. When I signaled my empty hands to him, Blanco tossed his head, flipping his forelock from one side of his face to the other, and returned to his grazing. I turned and looked at the dog. In spite of my unthreatening posture, he retreated again out of sight. I sighed and entered the tent again.

Inside its dry interior, I shook out the cloak I had bought in the Imperial City. Made of dark brown wool, velvety soft to the touch, the fabric had lived up to Sergius Verus’s claims. “Repel water it will, keep you dry beneath. Every traveler should not be without one of these.” It had been expensive, but already I appreciated its protection. This will be useful when I get back to Bruma. I just can’t seem to get warm enough there, and it’s not even Evening Star yet! I shook my head. How can the Blades stand it? Especially in that plate armor? I hung it from one of the tent poles near the doorway.

After turning the roasting mutton, I sat on the bedroll just within the tent and unfolded the rough map Martin had given me. “This is from memory," he had said. “It’s been many years since I walked its green avenues. I doubt that it’s very accurate, or even to scale. But it’s a big ruin on the surface, and you could easily lose an entire day looking for the entrance.”

But he had clearly marked it as being located in the northeast star tower. “Star towers are called that because they are taller than the surrounding structures and have walls that radiate outward from them like beams from a star. They can form the central feature of a surface city, or form part of the outer defenses.” Martin’s voice returned to me beneath the pattering of the rain on the tent’s thick canvas. “In the case of Miscarcand, if you head to the northeast corner, you’ll find the entrance within the star tower that stands there.”

I studied the layout of the walls surrounding the entrance. An outer ring wall connected the radiating rays, closing off symmetrical areas between the star walls. These form excellent defenses against attackers. I’ll have to be careful approaching the star tower - there’s plenty of hiding places for hostiles. According to Martin’s map, beyond the radiating star walls that created smaller enclosures surrounding the central tower, two buttressed walls stretched away at ninety degrees to each other, one running south and the other running west. These must mark the city walls. Wonder what they protected, if the bulk of the city was underground? How could they be defensive if the entrance is right on the outer corner? I looked out into the rain, vainly searching for the star tower at the far side of the complex from the camp. Looks like the best way is to come northward along the outside of that eastern wall until I reach the star tower. That will be the easy part. The hard part is making my way to the center of that tower. I’d be vulnerable to ambush, I knew. Mentally I reviewed the detect life spell I had learned so long ago at Edgar Vautrine’s. It doesn’t have much range, but at least it will tell me what’s on the other side of the walls. I can use the walls for cover. I’d have to be very quiet.

The pattering eased considerably, and I glanced outside. Now it was dark, but the only dripping came from the leaves of the great trees overshadowing the camp. In front of the tent, the roasting mutton joint steamed faintly above the fire, which now crackled in freedom from the suppressing rain. Beyond, mist wreathed the southernmost arches of Miscarcand. Moonlight on white vapor and whiter stone reminded me of the late hour.

I can’t do anything now. May as well spend the night here, and head out in the morning. Blanco will be safe here - Hugh Berennus will check on him as he patrols. I headed out to the fire and retrieved the mutton. Its charred exterior cracked open to reveal moist flesh containing just the slightest pink tinge. My stomach growled as the odor of the meat assured me it was ready.

Back in the tent, I tore the meat off the bone. A furtive movement in the corner of my vision drew my attention back outside. The dog froze, torn between the desire to hide and his own hunger. As he shifted his feet, struggling with the useless right foreleg, I shredded a chunk of the roast and tossed it out of the tent. It landed halfway between us. I kept my eyes averted and returned to my meal. After a moment’s indecision, the dog crept forward, his belly brushing the grass. He picked up the cooling roast and turned for cover, but paused. I ignored him, turning my gaze back to the map spread on the bedroll. After a moment, he lay down between me and the fire, his broken leg jutting out at an angle that made me wince, and began tearing mouthfuls from the chunk of mutton.

I didn’t eat all of the meat, only a few handfuls. When I looked up again, the dog started, but bravely remained in his reclining position, his gaze on me. The white tip of his tail twitched once in the darkness. His pricked ears lay flat against his skull in an attitude of submission, and he lowered his chin to the grass, his tongue flickering between his lips.

Again I tossed another chunk of mutton out, making sure it landed closer to the tent than to him. Beyond the ring of tents, Blanco picked his head up from his grazing and watched as the dog slowly crept toward the mutton. After a moment, the white horse dropped his head back to the wet grass. The sound of his teeth tearing the grass mingled with the slurping as the dog attacked the second morsel of mutton.

Wonder if I can heal that wound in his shoulder. I could see the injury more clearly. Broken ends of bone showed through the morass of blood, mud and hair above his elbow. That has to be painful. No wonder he can’t walk on that leg. I considered approaching him, but decided it would be best if he approached me instead. How to treat that wound? Maybe use Carandial’s refresh spell first to clean it. Then use the convalescence spell. I doubt I can get him to drink a healing potion, and I don’t care to stick my fingers in his mouth.

The dog finished the second morsel and met my gaze for the first time, hope shining in his eyes as he licked the last of the juices away from his lips. Those eyes were bright blue, I noticed. Just like Captain Steffan’s. I blinked the thought away. No, don’t think too much on him. I’ll just drive myself crazy, as I did when I loved Jared.

I had one more piece of mutton, and the bone. Instead of tossing the meat toward him, I held it out. His nose twitched, and his ears shot up briefly before dropping back down. The dog rolled his azure eyes at me, and again his tail flickered briefly behind him. I gestured again with the mutton, inviting him to approach and take it from my fingers.

He looked away as he crept closer. I recognized the signs of submission. He won’t threaten me, unless I scare him. Best not to scare him. I held still as he gingerly took the last bit of meat from my fingers. He remained laying down while he wolfed down the final morsel, and kept his face turned away from me as I regarded him thoughtfully. He was now close enough for me to touch him if I leaned forward. I kept my left hand stretched out to him, and after a moment he turned his head and sniffed my hand. My silent patience was finally rewarded when he licked the juices from my fingers, his tail wagging slowly all the while.

That tail stilled when I reached toward his ears, then started moving more vigorously again when I rubbed the soft fur. He leaned his head into my palm as I dug my fingernails into his thick coat, and his eyes closed on a soft whine when I found an itchy spot.

Again he froze as I slowly moved my left hand down his neck, my fingers quiet and still. I cupped the refresh spell in my left palm and held it until the soft glow hovered over the ugly wound. He tensed but did not move when I released the magic into the shoulder. Bits of blood, mud, and hair fell away, revealing a horrifying gash with shredded muscles and pieces of shattered bone.

Let’s see how well Cirroc taught me. I called up my convalescence spell and mentally reviewed the anatomy of the humerus bone in my mind. It’s not much different in dogs than it is in humans. Holding my hand over the wound without touching the macerated flesh, I closed my eyes and let the magicka guide my awareness into the depths of the injury. I kept my breathing deep, slow and regular, the same when I practiced the Way of the Crane.

I felt the ends of the bone overriding each other beneath the ravaged muscle. Slowly my magicka drew the bone first apart, realigning the broken tips, then eased them together. The bits of bone moved to fill in the gaps, and the shredded muscle began weaving back into itself.

I felt the magicka draining the energy from my own bones, the pain of the broken humerus drifting against the current into my fingers. I fought the impulsion to draw away from the agony. A whimper broke the silence, nearly shattering my concentration. My jaw clenched against the emotion that little sound triggered. Fatigue set in, but the bone was now whole beneath my palm, the muscles knitting back together again. Slowly, patiently, I coaxed new skin to fill in the gap over newly healed flesh. Pain faded away, to be replaced by exhaustion.

A loud sigh opened my eyes. My magicka fizzled over the dog’s brown coat, over the new scar gleaming softly in the firelight. Perspiration lay cold on the back of my neck, and my left hand shook violently as I withdrew my fingers. My spine creaked in protest as I straightened up, leaning back from my canine patient. My shoulders stiff and aching, I lowered my left hand as the dog rose hesitantly to his feet. He wobbled briefly on four legs, then backed away from me, limping slightly on the right foreleg. It did not collapse under his weight, and he stopped in the doorway, his eyes on mine. His ears hesitantly came up, and his eyes softened as the last of the fear left them.

I found myself smiling shakily as he turned and gamboled around the fire, limping only slightly on the healed leg. Not bad for my first try at field healing. In the darkness, his white feet and tip of his tail described glyphs of joy and freedom from pain. I noticed that he held his tail carried above his back in a jaunty curve. He’s got some Skyrim Husky in him. That must be where the curly tail, prick ears and white comes from. That wonderfully expressive attitude he has, too.

Boldly the dog capered up to Blanco and stopped before the white stallion. Blanco touched noses with him, then tossed his head in acceptance. The dog crouched his front end down, his tail high and waving playfully. Blanco snaked his head at the dog, who sprang away and bounced back to the fire. At the sound of my chuckling he froze, his head turned toward the tent, then he trotted back to me. He stopped outside the tent, peering in warily.

I picked up the mutton bone and offered it to him. His eyes sparked as he took it. He flopped down just outside the tent and began gnawing at it, muttering contentedly to himself in the way of happy Skyrim Huskies.

Well, Julian, I regarded the dog silently as I lay back on the bedroll. It seems you’ve rescued a dog instead of a cat this time.

****************
A/N: Initially, I hadn't intended to introduce another companion. But it may not surprise you that it had always bothered me that bandit dogs always attacked the player in the game (at least on the XBox - there are mods that counteract that in the PC version). So when Julian came to this camp, she said to me, I don't want to kill another dog. So I left him alive, and then both of us couldn't let him suffer, especially with my knowledge and her convalescence spell. Before I knew it, my next door neighbor's dog had written himself into the story.

The Dog Next Door

Presley

Don't worry, I have his owner's permission to post these pics online! And though you can't see them too well (it was a hot and muggy day when I took those photos), you can get an idea just how blue his (and Captain Steffan's) eyes are!

[SubRosa]

The Art of Hammerfell was fantastic! I saved the pdf to my hard drive.

A good touch at the beginning, where Julian takes the time to remove Blanco's tack and dry the leather inside the tent. That is the kind of thing movies always ignore.

I just can’t seem to get warm enough there
Perhaps Captain Steffan might be able to help her there.

Star towers is an excellent name for those corner towers or central hubs you so often see in Ayleid cities. Martin's map of the ruins has given Julian an excellent opportunity to plan out her approach in advance. Lucky her!

I see Julian used the same method of gaining the bandit dog's trust as I use with feral cats. Give them food that is steadily closer and closer to you. Thankfully the dog was not actually wild, just injured and uncertain about a stranger. Then a wonderful description of Julian's healing the dog one bit at a time.

So now our Skyrim husky needs a name. White Fang perhaps? Or Buck?

[Acadian]

I love campfire scenes and this one was right up there! Julian and her friends!

'the only dripping came from the leaves of the great trees overshadowing the camp. In front of the tent, the roasting mutton joint steamed faintly above the fire, which now crackled in freedom from the suppressing rain. Beyond, mist wreathed the southernmost arches of Miscarcand. Moonlight on white vapor and whiter stone reminded me of the late hour.'
This was some very fine description that really put us right there into the scene.

I liked how the Husky's eyes reminded Julian of Old Blue Eyes, er, I mean Captain Steffan of the Blades.

'It seems you’ve rescued a dog instead of a cat this time.'
See, old habits die hard, but old dogs can certainly learn new tricks!

[Grits]

Woo hoo, a Skyrim Husky with Captain Steffan’s azure eyes! I know she’s already a hero saving the world, but rescuing a bandit dog would make her one anyway. I loved your description of healing magic. This episode was a great opportunity to see some of the housekeeping that Julian does all of the time, but we don’t read about. Cleaning her tack, drying her cloak, and such. The Skyrim Husky’s behavior was delightful to read, especially the way he flopped happily down at the end with his bone.

[treydog]

27.1

"We always walk the first mile out, and the last mile back," I chided him softly, struggling to keep the laughter out of my voice. I couldn't believe how much I was looking forward to seeing my Blade comrades again.

In those two sentences, you do so much- showing us Julian’s wisdom while on campaign- AND what it means to her to be part of something once again.

"Typical male," Caroline muttered under her breath. I wasn't certain if she meant Blanco or Roliand, and smiled at the quandary.

And there is that wonderfully sneaky Julian humor we all love.

Blanco’s bow to Martin surprised me and then made sense.

I had to fight each one of the skeletons before I could complete my task in Sancre Tor. When I shattered their bones, their souls were freed." I stopped, feeling the tears rise up again in my throat.

As did I, reading that passage….

"We may have been separated by four hundred years," I whispered, feeling the tears surge again behind my eyes. "But they were still my brothers. They have made me proud to be counted as a Blade."

Excuse me for a moment. Something seems to have caught in my throat- and it is affecting my eyes, as well.

27.2

First of all- WOO HOO! An account of the Four!

"Is it treason to speak the truth in Tiber Septim's Tamriel? Thanks to Alain whatever debts we owed to the place have long since been paid. Sending us back there only awakens ghosts that are best left slumbering.”

More than the cold made me shiver as I read that.

“A fitting epitaph,” said Rielus. “Here lies Sir Casnar, the reality met his expectation.”

That gallows humor coaxed a guffaw even from me. Fortunately, my tea was well away from me at the time.

Valdemar took up his shield, thought better of it, and placed it back on the frozen ground.

“She can wait until I’ve broken my fast,” he said.

Why did I sense a kinship with a fellow by the name of Jerric all of a sudden?

“If I ever hear Huzzah! again I’ll smack whoever said it.”

And that received ANOTHER snortle. As did the fact that Steffan actually manages to TEASE Julian! If any doubted the Captain’s bravery- doubt no longer!

The whole summing up was beautifully done- and a quite brilliant way to recap all that Julian experienced during her tour of the counties. And beyond that, Steffan shows why he is an exceptional commander- and an exceptional man.

Nit:

“That’s not without significant cost to yourself, isn’t it?” Steffan asked.

A dreaded triple-negative. And, no, I am NOT someone who thinks math and English usage are the same. But the reason I have an “ear” for these is because I had a geography professor who was notorious for his double-, triple-, and even quadruple-negatives on multiple choice examinations.

Anyway, back to the point- (did I have a point?)- I think “But not without significant cost to yourself, yes?” would scan better…

27.3

Sometimes, a post is just so perfectly executed that saying more would only spoil it.

27.4

A Mad Who-What now?

The discussion of the sunbird was a treat- and I could see how emulating an invisible bird would be a useful combat technique.

A pained flicker moved through his steady gaze. “I could send one of the others,” Martin mused. “But none have the experience in dark places that you have.”

“Your reward for doing so well is another nasty job. Congratulations- and don’t forget to update your will…”

If you say you need me to go to Miscarcand,” this time the walnut was from fear, but I choked it down anyway. “If you need me to go to Miscarcand, I will go there and find this Great Stone.

And there is Julian the true hero.

[Kazaera]

I've caught up! I've caught up!

...which was quite a feat given that I've never read this before. Er. You really ought to be ashamed of yourself, because I swear I meant to do something productive yesterday and the day before, but then I went "hey, I've never actually read this one before" and your writing was just so excellent that all of a sudden it was two days later.

Which is to say that this is fantastic and fabulous and a lot of similar words! Julian positively leaps (well, limps) off the page in her realness. It was very refreshing to see a protagonist who's somewhat older, and also very refreshing to see one who at least starts off with a disability, and you handle both excellently.

I cannot possibly comment on everything that has been posted and everything that I thought during this reading. Two things stand out:

One, given that I am not usually one for action scenes, the fact that you had me on the edge of my seat during each of Julian's battles with the four Blades? Kudos, seriously. And even for an action non-afficiando like me, the feel of the fight - Julian up against opponents as strong and skilled as she is and only barely managing to win each time, the different styles and abilities of the four - was riveting.

Two, this is going to be immensely random, but when you had the Imperial Legion eating polenta very early on I had to grin. Polenta! I actually like it (although not in gruel form) but moreover it's been absolutely ubiquitous every time I've been to Northern Italy, so adding in that gave a touch of authenticity and flavour (pun fully intended) to the story given the Cyrodiil-Roman Empire connection.

Oh yes, a three creeps in - reading Julian and her dealings with the Legion and the Blades makes me regret that Adryn is so irrevocably contemptuously anti-Legion! She'll never become a Legionnaire (excuse me I think I just sprained something laughing) but now I'm pondering tossing a few honourable ones her way so that she at least gets a little nuance in her dislike, simply out of respect for Julian.

[Destri Melarg]

27.4

It is so strange to hear the four spoken of as historic figures, even though I know they are. I am always dealing with them in the present tense. The image of Rielus as this master swordsman and leader of men is still twenty plus years ahead of the impulsive young man that I know. It really is great to see this take on them. I know I have given my consent for you to use them in Julian’s story, and I know that I have joined the others in heaping praise upon your efforts. But there is one thing that I have left unsaid, and I want to remedy that before we move on.

Thank you.

*BTW I have heard that looking the Mad Hoosa in the eye will turn you to stone.*

28.1

Yes, that dog definitely needs a name (although ‘dog’ does seem to fit him). I have seen the behavior you describe so many times that I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face reading this chapter. Your love of and identification with animals always seems to shine in your writing. Here’s hoping that ‘dog’ doesn’t get the bright idea to accompany Julian through Miscarand.

Hmmm, maybe she should name him Steffan!

[haute ecole rider]

@SubRosa: It's nice to remind readers from time to time that traveling (and roughing it) with horses always involves a lot of work. Same is true of traveling with oxen, yaks, camels, and so on. Though you and I are Jack London fans, Julian will choose (in the next post, not this one) a more lore-friendly name for our Skyrim Husky mix. He is turning out to be quite the character, as much as Blanco and Paint in their own ways.

@Acadian: When I played the Miscarcand quest from a save game just before writing this chapter, I was struck once more by how atmospheric the game really is. Mind you, Julian's game isn't as heavily modded as Tallei's, so it's still pretty close to the vanilla version so many of us are familiar with. I rather thought you would like that the dog reminded Julian of Captain Steffan. Of course, now having admitted to herself that he's just her sort of man, she has a hard time not thinking about him. We'll see that again in upcoming posts. I had to laugh at your twist on my subtitles for my threads.

@Grits: It may not surprise you and most readers who know my background that I have a lot of experience watching dogs and the way they behave in many different situations. When my neighbor brings his dog out to hang out on the back patio, I like to watch Presley just being himself. That's what I meant when I said he wrote himself into this story. It's not the first time that's happened, either. I had a cat write herself into a series of stories as a recurring character that's an essential part of the background. And my beloved gelding insisted on being the mount for another of my characters in a different story. My oldest sister's dog goof-balled his way into a family dealing with the loss of their mother. This Skyrim Husky is just the latest.

@Treydog: You know, I always love reading your comments - they're so insightful and humorous (just like the dachshund you are). I'm on the fence about the triple negative you pointed out - it's a part of Steffan's dialogue, and I don't want to make him too perfect, you know? So maybe like that geology professor (I think I had one like that, only in Orgasmic Chemistry), Captain Steffan will have a weakness for multiple negatives. I hope you will forgive me for that decision.

@Kazaera: Congratulations! You read the whooole thing in just two days?? I'm both flattered and appalled by your comments about losing so much time. But a good waste of time it was, no? I'm glad there was enough here for a non-action aficionado to enjoy just as much as there is for those who love the slash-n-smash. As we are nearing the end of the Main Quest and of this story, I hope you will stick with us over the next few months as we wrap things up. I understand about your attention span and your passions - I have a little bit of that as well.

@Destri: Your feelings about the fab four are very important to me. I understand how it is to create living, breathing characters that talk to you and sometimes pull you kicking and screaming after them until you write their story, so for you to tell me what a job I've done with - not one, but four of your characters really mean a lot to me. And you're welcome! As for that dog, think he'll stay out of Miscarcand? Don't worry, he'll get a name next week.

The story so far: Julian has arrived at Miscarcand and healed a bandit dog. Now it is time for her to enter the ruins.

*****************************

Chapter 28.2: Into the Underground

The dog ranged ahead of me as I made my way slowly along the tall buttressed wall. The white stone cast a bright glare in the morning sun, and I kept my face turned away from the wall at my left shoulder. Every so often I paused to cast my detect life spell, but the only pink glow belonged to the happy animal sniffing in the bushes.

The sun had just cleared the horizon when I told Blanco to remain at the camp. The dog had looked from the calm stallion to me, then made his decision when I started north. I was surprised that he had chosen to accompany me, but somehow I was pleased. Could he be grateful to me for healing his leg? Or just because I shared my mutton with him last night, he thinks I would be a good source of food? I had felt his ribs beneath the thick coat and knew that the bandits hadn’t fed him particularly well.

I recalled the great war dogs of my first posting. Legio Ten was known for their experience in Valenwood and Elsweyr. Their war dogs were vital to their successes, for these big animals could warn their handlers of hostiles lurking in the thick woods before the soldiers were ambushed. Their thick coats protected them from the scythe-like claws of the Padomay-Raht, as well as the big brown bears common in the mountains. And their bravery in the face of bigger foes verged on legend.

The dog circled back to me, the white tip of his tail waving gaily above his dark brown back. His blue eyes sparkled, his tongue lolling from a laughing mouth. He’s no war dog. But he certainly has a fun spirit. Then my thoughts took a serious turn. How good will he be when I have to face hostiles? Will he run away? Will he attack? Will he get in my way? Or - I recalled a particularly friendly pet dog one of my fellow recruits had adopted in Valenwood - will he lick them to death? I stifled a sigh as we approached the ring wall of the star tower.

The answer to my questions was soon answered when the dog halted in front of me, obstructing my further progress along the buttressed wall. His hackles bristled along his spine, and his head dropped below the level of his back. That curly tail lowered, became straight behind him. His gaze stared ahead and slightly to the left. I followed his stare, but only saw bright white wall.

I cast my detect life spell again and moved forward slowly, drawing Akatosh’s Touch. The blade glimmered in the sunlight with a soft susurrus as it cleared the sheath. Valdemar’s plain katana, enchanted with a shock sigil stone, weighed less and was of better quality than my battered Daedra Slayer.

The dog paced stiff-legged, keeping just ahead of me, as we approached a gap in the wall. He remained silent, his entire posture alert and aggressive. His triangular ears tipped forward, indicating the direction of the still-unseen being. A pink glow became barely visible against the glare of the sunlight on the stones. I paused and scanned my surroundings. No other pink glows other than the dog and this unknown creature appeared, either in the shadows of the forest or elsewhere along the wall.

A chittering sound reached me. I felt the blood leave my face as I recognized the sound from my nightmares. Goblin! Before I could regain control, the dog leaped through the gap and disappeared from my sight. I heard his growl escalate into a throaty roar at the same time the goblin’s voice rattled into a guttural shriek.

Something pulled me through the gap after the dog, and in spite of the old terror I ran toward the two combatants. The dog, his lean body flowing like muddy water, darted toward the goblin to bite at his knees and calves before ducking back out of range of that heavy iron mace. The goblin, his face distorted in rage, spat something in their language as he tried to hit the dog.

Years of training overcame my fear and I leaped toward them. My sword arm rose, then fell, slicing the blade across the goblin’s right shoulder. He spun toward me, screaming in fury and pain from the flickering energy shimmering over his body, and I ducked the mace as it swung toward my head. Before he could recover and backhand the mace back at me, I thrust the tip of my sword deep into his belly. At the same time, a brown and white blur buried his teeth into the goblin’s left thigh from behind, his growling reaching a crescendo.

Akatosh’s Touch sent waves of white energy crackling through the goblin as I twisted my wrist and tore the weapon out the goblin’s right side. The mace fell from his hand and clattered against tumbled stones as he fell to his left side. Before I could deliver the death blow, the dog leaped onto his body and gnashed his teeth into the goblin’s now exposed throat. I stepped back stunned as the dog shook the hostile creature violently, until a snapping sound told me the goblin’s neck had broken.

Gasping against the adrenaline that surged through my body, I watched as the dog released his victim and stepped back, limping slightly on the right foreleg. His legs braced, he looked around, then sat down and met my gaze. His blue eyes blinked in the bright sun spilling past my shoulder as he licked the goblin’s blood from his lips. His tail swept the dried leaves away from the underlying grass and he grinned laughingly at me.

“Thanks for your help,” I whispered to him, still unsure if there were other goblins around. Here in the heart of an Ayleid ruin, a goblin was not something I had quite expected. All the goblins I had met lived in mines, caves, and dungeons, not these graceful, menacing ruins from a long-lost civilization. But why not, Julian? a little voice murmured. You know how adaptable goblins can be - you’ve encountered them everywhere you went during your time in the Legion.

The dog rose and trotted up to me, avoiding the bloodied blade still in my right hand. He nudged my left wrist with his nose as if to say Let’s get on with it.

I considered him a moment longer, then turned my head to glance toward the star tower. Steps led up to its center, passing through one of a ring of soaring arches that came to points high above the ground. Massive roots twisted their way through the tower, and I felt a moment’s doubt. Is the entrance still usable? Or have those roots blocked it?

I took a deep breath and passed the refresh spell along Akatosh’s Touch before sheathing it. Only one way to find out. I turned to face the star tower and cast another detect life spell.

The dog followed me as I moved to the star wall on my left and headed for the stairs, carefully placing one foot before the other. Here leaves had drifted along the base of the wall, and I stayed just out of the brown drift. As I approached the worn stairs, the dog passed me and ran ahead, leaping up the steps and jumping to the top of the gnarled root that draped across the top like a fat snake. He looked down the opposite side, then turned his nose into the breeze that blew up from the southwest. After a moment he turned to face me, his stance still relaxed though alert.

I approached him, making my way up the crumbling stairs and pausing next to the gnarled root. Past its bulk, I could make out a spiral staircase in the center of the tower floor that led down out of sight. That has to be where the entrance is. After a final check of our surroundings for any more hostiles, goblin or otherwise, I cautiously made my way past the root to the top of the steps.

A whine drew my attention back toward the dog. Anxiety was evident in his gaze as he watched me from across the spiral staircase, his mouth closed. He shifted his feet restlessly. He doesn’t want to go down there, but for some reason he wants to stay with me. I recalled how the Legion handlers communicated with their war dogs and lifted my left hand. His eyes brightened as I pointed at him.

“You,” I moved my pointing finger southward, toward Ra’sava Camp beyond the ruins. “Go back home.” His ears drooping against his head, the dog whined again, lowering his head. I snapped my fingers for emphasis. “Go!”

He disappeared behind the root, and I started down the stairs. At the bottom, I encountered a pair of stone doors with a circle embossed in the center, straddling the crack that divided them. I remembered how Mazoga had pressed the center of the circle at Telepe, and did the same. To my surprise, the doors swung back into the darkness with only a slight groan. Has this been used recently?

A glance at the floor just within the entrance revealed fresh arcs in the moldy dirt covering the surface. Looks like it. More goblins? Have they occupied this place? Are they the reason no one has survived?

A chill ran up my spine. The stale air that reached my nostrils took me back more than a few years, back before my addiction to skooma, before my heavy drinking, before the pain -

Stop it, Julian. Even if this place is infested with goblins, you still have to get the Great Stone. Martin - no, Emperor Martin is counting on you. You have a promise to keep to him, and one to keep to his father. I turned my head and looked up at the bright blue above me. You’ll see the sky again. Remember Akatosh is with you.

I drew Akatosh’s Touch. The hilt thrummed softly in my palm as I entered the dark.

[Olen]

Not sure how I missed the last part, but excellent as always.

I liked her contempling stealth at the beginging of 28.1, it's not something she does that much. Hacking foes apart she does with finesse and I'm noticing that she's using magic quite heavily now. Soon she'll be more mage than fighter but thoughts about the stealthy way to do it shows she's really neither. She wants the best result.

Then the part with the dog. I must admit I'm not an animal person (barring cats) but this was a joy to read. With an admirable amount of showing rather than telling you've already given the dog quite a personaility. I suspect your time working with them has helped there. And Julian could always use another travelling companion, or perhaps dog will decide that Cloud Ruler looks like a nice place to live.

The healing showed how her magic has come on too. That sounded like quite a major bit of work that she managed in one go. Great stuff, both in her gradual development and in th description of the healing. I may have to steal draw inspiration from it.

The dog certainly showed its ability with the goblin though, Julian has to meet another past fear too. I suspect in the long term it will be good for her, though I doubt she's relishing it now. You've certainly built up to going into the ruin, I'm excited to see what the inside is like.

[treydog]

Will be back to revise and extend my comments once I have read- but I wanted to say this first:

If anyone should ask "forgiveness," it is I. I forgot a cardinal rule of fiction- The writer should speak precisely and correctly- but the characters should speak like themselves.

And since I come from one of the strongholds of piling negatives one upon the other to indicate STRONG "negativity," I am even more at fault.

("I ain't never done nothing," anyone?)

This post has been edited by treydog: Aug 11 2011, 09:15 PM

[Acadian]

And Blue (name subject to change) displays that he's got courage! Many dogs don't, and he's to be treasured for it. The dog's immediate post fight behavior certainly rang true for working dogs.

I loved how the dog's courage helped to counter Julian's slight waver as she briefly wrestled with her own goblinish demons. Any time you display her uncertainty and limitations, it enriches her. I had no doubt that any hesitation she had would be quickly put to rest, for she would never leave an engaged ally (four legged or otherwise) unassisted.

You have certainly built a foreboding and tense environment that Julian now enters on behalf of Martin. Gulp!

PS - I've been meaning, but keep forgetting, to mention how much I enjoyed Julian's screenshot (with Martin) that you graced us with a couple episodes ago. It was wonderful!

[SubRosa]

Julian's new dog was certainly helpful against that goblin. I figured a bandit dog would be pretty good in a fight. Otherwise why would bandits bother keeping it? Still, I am glad she sent him home before venturing within the ruin. I do not think he would fare well against Ayleid traps, not to mention the hordes of critters Julian is likely to find down there.

And Goblins! Julian's own personal boogeyman! It was a good thing that dog was there for the first one, as it forced her to act without thinking about what she was doing. Now she must venture into the underworld to retrieve a boon. Hmm, sounds rather Campbellian does it not?

[Athynae]

Wonderful as usual. I LOVE the new companion, my life is not complete without my canines. It's nice to have someone around that listens and does what they are told, hehe.

[Grits]

Their war dogs were vital to their successes, for these big animals could warn their handlers of hostiles lurking in the thick woods before the soldiers were ambushed.

This is what I hoped Blue (name subject to change, thanks Acadian! ) might offer Julian when Blanco gets left behind. A great fight with Blue as an ally, and I noticed that he did stay out of the way of Akatosh’s Touch. He finished the goblin without hesitating, then seemed unruffled by the situation. Yay!

Valdemar’s plain katana, enchanted with a shock sigil stone, weighed less and was of better quality than my battered Daedra Slayer.

Outstanding. Somehow Valdemar’s sword means even more, considering he gave up his trusty mace to carry it. Though I guess Spearman Rielus might have been just as attached to his spear.

Now, into the ruin! Gulp.

[Destri Melarg]

Nicely done using Blue (I think your audience has named him for you ) as the focus of Julian’s concern when her courage began to waver. We can all remember her dread where goblins are concerned. It was also nice to see that Blue can hold his own in a fight.

I am so glad that Julian sent him back to the camp rather than risk him braving the unknown depths of Miscarand. Given her fear of what may lie in wait for her in there, one could excuse her for wanting an extra set of fangs at her side. But, true to form, Julian puts the welfare of a new found friend over concerns for her own safety.

Once more into the breach, Hero of Kvatch!

[haute ecole rider]

Well, everyone, seems that Acadian's choice of a name for the Skyrim Husky has established itself in the thoughts of Julian's readers. However, I wanted to warn you, 'Blue' is not the name Julian gives him. You'll see come Monday, so don't get into the habit of calling this dog Blue!

Still, Acadian, good choice given what you know about Skyrim Huskies. Those blue eyes are indeed Presley's most striking feature, with his impish personality a close second.