I loved the screenshots! The offending book’s cover art style was instantly recognizable. For a moment I thought it said “Molag Bal,” so there was some tea-spitting. Rulebreaking was hilarious. “You must extinguish any fires,” lol. The portrait ones are my favorites. Ervesa is beautiful! It’s great to see the characters on the screen.

Adryn’s wiki page looks great. I enjoy the reminders of her various skills.


He was right, but.

That could be the Adryn motto.

Bolvyn. Bolvyn. Bolvyn.

How many times do I have too kill you?

Meh, keep coming back: I enjoy your repeated demises. As well as Adryn lightning quick wit: "Wait, why the singular?" actually brought a snicker, followed by a guffaw. Man, reading your work is like a word a day calender. I feel the gray matter actually working for a change.

Love the screens, Adryn is a hawty!

Just don't tell her I said that.

I've just finished reading this through from the start, and I must say that I've been enjoying this immensely; it's been an great read throughout, full of interesting chracters, fun twists on Morrowind's quests and the world feels fleshed-out and real.

The best thing about this story by far, however, has got to be Adryn; her narration is an absolute joy to read, and she's a great character with a lot depth and humanity (elfanity?). The rest of the story is absolutely great, but she's really what makes it something special, and left me clicking that Next button without fail.

Absolutely loving this, and I cannot wait for the next chapter.

And we meet the architect of our prisoner's dilemma. How fun.

I love your description of Bolvyn Venim and how Adryn sizes him up; pretty apt from my experiences. I'll give him props, the guy is nothing if not tough. He might as well be made of Ebony instead of just wearing the stuff as armor.

Adryn's running commentary is always a delight, so there's not much to add other than: Good Job, Keep it coming, and I hope Alldimwits learns something valuable from all of this. Such as: Don't just rely on a sleeping potion. Don't get caught up in a land war in Akavir.

And never go in against a Bravilian when Death is on the line. That's important too.

QFT!!

I loved the descriptions of Varvur and of Bolvyn - goes a long way to show just how different "nobility" can be! I had to laugh out lout at this:

And I rather enjoyed Adryn's dilemma - stay or go only Akatosh knows where?

Holy Cow! I'm reminded of "Annah of the Shadows" from PlaneScape Torment saying "It's from bad to worse we go..."

What a cliffhanger (again, lol)! Awesome Write, all I can say is MORE, so I know what happens! (must dust off Morrowind and try playing it again!).

@Grits - glad you like the screenshots and the wiki. And... yeah, not Molag Bal. That would be a rather different story. And probably involve Vivec. (Curse the Lessons of Vivec for me never being able to unread them...)

@Black Hand - Adryn would like you to know two things. One, she still disapproves of lethal violence as a problem-solving method! Two... but since you're going to do that anyway no matter what she says, it would've been so so helpful if you/Sethyas 'took care of' Bolvyn Venim *before* all of this happened. Just, you know, your timing! It could use some work.

(There is no Three because I quickly prevented your last comment from reaching her ears.)

Oh yeah, tell me if the vocabulary gets too ridiculous? I was a terrible bookworm as a kid and then spent my teenage years playing "let's see if I can make the teacher reach for the dictionary" in my compulsory EFL classes, so sometimes I just don't realise how obscure some of the words I've used are.

@Colonel Mustard - eeh a new reader! Thank you for giving Adryn a shot! I'm really glad you like the story, and especially glad you like Adryn's character and narrating style! Adryn is pretty much what made this story for me, all my other ideas came after. *g*

@Captain Hammer - I'm glad you like my Bovlyn description! The man may be an inflexible xenophobic bully who'd rather let Morrowind go to Dagoth Ur than admit an outlander could help them, but a weak ineffectual noble who lets his guards do the dirty work he is *not*. What a pity Adryn was hoping for that option! Poor Adryn, not used to these Redoran warrior sorts. *g*

As for Alldimwits... we *might* see him again later and *might* see what lesson he took from all this.

@haute - yep, it's a tricky decision to make, to stay or to roll the dice on the teleportation... and I think this update will bias Adryn further in favour of option #1. >>

In all seriousness, one of the reasons I'm taking this tack on it is because otherwise teleportation acts as a little too much of an emergency parachute - losing a battle? teleport away! run into an enemy too strong for you? teleport away! With Adryn's preference for flight over fight, she'd reach for the spell the instant she got in over her head, which is boring to read and hard to plot with. Adding some risk to it prevents that and opens up a lot of other possibilities to boot.

@mALX - ...that comment of Annah's is more appropriate than you know, I think. And I feel as if I should apologise for the cliffhangers I'm heaping onto you guys, but I can't find it within myself to do so.

Last installment, Adryn's argument with Allding about what, exactly, to do with the politically important hostage they'd stumbled across, the one who'd been kidnapped by the nobleman who owned the place, was interrupted by said nobleman showing up. He was not amused, to put it mildly. Adryn ended up wildly teleporting away again. Now...

You know how a few updates ago I said 'now Adryn learns just how badly a teleportation spell can go wrong?'

That was a lie.

This is the update in which she learns how badly a teleportation spell can go wrong.



This teleport was even rougher than the previous one. My stomach lurched when I rematerialised with a jerk, stone floor shifting to-

To-

To...

Why was someone screaming?

I looked down.

It looked as if I'd been a bit hasty in deciding that teleporting would be a safer option than staying where I was. In fact, I found myself wishing desperately I'd decided to stick around. I'd probably have ended up in the cell with Varvur, but cells are nice, safe places. In particular, they have floors. Floors, I thought, were a decidedly undervalued commodity. Ground in general, in fact. True, the ground here seemed eager to reunite with us, was in fact approaching with remarkable speed, but we were far enough away that we were going to be bereft of it for some time all the same. I for one wasn't looking forward to the reunion.

Pain. Fingers digging into my wrist. I'd taken Varvur with me, and he'd finally managed to stop screaming.

"Do something!" He didn't sound very happy about this turn of events. I couldn't blame him.

"Like what?" I yelled. Ooh, those tiny dots down below were trees.

"You're a mage! Cast a spell!"

I pondered my repertoire. Illusion, detection, waterwalking, firebite... no, not exactly useful in this situation. The teleport - even aside from the fact that the way things were going we'd probably end up three miles under ground next, I wasn't sure if teleports reduced velocity. Ending up flat as a pancake at a Temple was if anything an even worse option, since at least this way our afterlife wouldn't be haunted by gods angry at us for getting bits of ourselves all over their holy place. Shield spell? Doubtful. I didn't think a spell made for keeping off the rain would help us survive a fall from this height, unless the weather here was a lot stranger than anyone had told me.

"I don't know any that would help!"

Varvur stared at me. "Seriously? I thought all you mages could levitate!"

"Well, I'm not a ma-" Levitation... wait a minute, what did that remind me of...

Those trees were looking bigger and bigger.

Levitation, of the Alteration school, closely related to the Slowfall effe-

The amulet!

I reached under my shirt with my free hand, ignored Varvur's eyes bugging out, grabbed the amulet and concentrated-

Our fall slowed to a gentle descent, as though the two of us weighed as much as a feather.

"What was that?" Varvur asked. Now that I wasn't distracted by our imminent death via being scattered across the landscape, I noticed there was sweat trickling down his face and his breath was coming in fast pants. All things considered, I doubted I looked much better.

"Slowfall enchantment," I answered him, carefully drawing the amulet out of my shirt. My eyes were drawn back down again, and I winced as I realised that the ground was still a rather disquietening distance away. I must admit, shameful as it is, that ground is one thing where I am extremely conservative and not inclined to new experiences. Not for me aerial explorations, I am one of the ground-loving people who wants firm earth under her feet as much as possible. Although at the moment I didn't feel inclined to be fussy - I'd be ecstatic with a tree branch, a net, a circus highwire, anything oh Nine anything-

"That's. Handy." From the looks of it - in particular the looks he was shooting in a general downwards direction - Varvur was just as attached to the idea of ground, for the standing upon, as I was.

"Lucky. I only got it today and was planning to sell it." Past tense. Now, I was ready to swear by Zenithar never to let this amulet out of my sight. I wouldn't have traded it for Azura's Star. People might laugh at me but, I ask you, what use is Azura's Star when you're several rapidly-decreasing miles in midair?

"That's the kind of luck I think we could both use more of. Um..." Varvur paused and licked his lips. "I don't suppose you know how long the enchantment lasts?"

We stared at each other.

Of course, most likely due to the universe wanting to prove yet again that it really did have a sense of irony, that was when we started falling again.

A few seconds later, I managed to get enough of my mind off of our once again rapidly approaching horrible death that I could muster the concentration necessary for the amulet, leaving us drifting once more.

"Right," I said once my teeth had stopped chattering. "So I just have to call up the enchantment as soon as it wears off until we reach the ground... or. Wait." I didn't exactly have much in the way of experience with enchanted objects, but one of the few things I did remember was jumping up and down screaming for attention.

And Varvur was shaking his head too. "How many charges does that thing have?"

I focused on the amulet for a moment, in particular the energy emanating from it. Energy which was definitely reduced compared to earlier. "Maybe... three more? Or four?" I hazarded.

"Not enough to get us all the way down. So you're just going to have to let us fall most of the way," Varvur said.

I stared down at the trees far below. "Right. I'll... get right on that."

As if on cue, the enchantment wore off.



Next

I love how you’ve turned what could be called Easy Escape in the game into a hazard in your story. I particularly like how enchantment effects can wear off at an awkward moment and spells can fail. Taking notes…

It may have been short, but that chapter was a great little snippet; I'm with Grits on liking how you've turned a Get Out of Jail Free card into a plot hook for a whole series of mishaps so far, and it's a clever bit of worldbuilding too, giving gives a good answer to the question of "why don't they just use magic for everything?" with the retort of "because magic often blows up in your face".

Now, that was trees that Adryn mentioned. Trees...where is it that's relatively nearby that has trees?

...

Holy crap, has she ended up on bloody Solstheim?!

But--but--I'm/He's not in this story! It wouldn't work! My mind has been collapsed in on itself!

As far as the eloquent prose you possess: Don't you dare change a thing! That's one of the nice aspect of your style of storytelling! It does not deter from this talent you have for creating a deep level of immersion, while simultaneously guiding the reader into Adryn's worldview, while also stimulating the intellect.

Now then, as far as this transportation mishap...again..



Her penchant for disaster is unparalleled.

Should she have expected anything else? Really, the amount of parallels to good old Rincewind that Adryn is showing as a plaything of fate is one of the continued sources of joy for me, as a reader.

Because I know that Adryn isn't taking enough joy in what's happening so it has to go somewhere.

On a separate note, I'm glad Adryn got to experience a true warrior-noble in full action. Because she's now dealt with lecherous merchant-princes and noble-warriors both. Which, given her attitudes, will probably pale in comparison when she meets insane Wizard-Lords that have been around for as long as the gods. I'm already stocking up on popcorn, butter, seasoning, and the soda for that story.

I'm glad to see Adryn making good use of that Feather Fall amulet, and realizing how wonky transportation magic can be in the Adryn-verse Morrowind. Maybe she should invest in some flying spells. In case this sort of thing occurs on a more frequent basis.

Varvur may be a terrible thief and not the brightest, but when his life is on the line his brain becomes very active! I loved this chapter, but ... ANOTHER CLIFFHANGER!

Awesome Write !!!

@Grits - yep, as said this was part of my motivation for this whole idea/plotline! No "whoops, stumbled across a Daedric ruin and have two dremora chasing me? No matter! I'll just Almsivi Intervent myself back to Balmora..." for Adryn, much though she might like it.

@Colonel Mustard - I'm glad everyone likes the way I'm going about this! Not Solstheim, no (not quite *that* many trees) - where they are should become clear in the update after this one.

@Black Hand - hey, when have paradoxes ever stopped an Elder Scrolls character? Thanks for the reassurance re: vocabulary!

@Captain Hammer - plaything of fate... plaything of an author who thinks she's funny when poked... six of one, half a dozen of the other I fully endorse your taking joy in these events because someone has to!

Yep, Adryn is getting a bit of a flavour of the Great Houses. I think from her experience so far, she'd be hard-pressed to decide which of Hlaalu and Redoran is worse! And I have *plans* for the first time Adryn meets a Telvanni Councillor. PLANS.

Trufax: all my characters have a "Slowfall 1pt 12 seconds/self", some also a "Slowfall 1pt 72 seconds/self" spell for the purposes of getting down from high places. I think Adryn might be investing in those pretty soon.

@mALX - I think you have your characters a little mixed up - Varvur is the kidnapped noble, not the thief. The thief was called Allding and managed to avoid this by gulping down an invisibility potion. Varvur, on the other hand, isn't quite sure what he did to deserve this... rescue.

Last installment, Adryn's teleportation spell went... slightly awry. In the "whoops, I didn't mean to end up in midair" way. Thankfully for her life and limbs - and Varvur Sarethi's, who she managed to take with her - she remembered the Slowfall amulet Ervesa had sent her. Alas, the limited charges on that item mean that getting back to the ground safely is still a fraught thing, requiring nerves of steel and lightning-quick reflexes.

Let's see how that's going.



The sight that would have greeted any passing bird or levitating mage that evening was unique, and quite possibly amusing if observed from a secure vantage point. Two Dunmer - one in plain robes clutching an expensive amulet, one in velvets and heavy chains - hovering among the treetops, clinging to each other and arguing loudly.

"Too early! Again!"

I glared at Varvur. "This isn't easy, you know! Would you rather it be too late? Besides, we're almost all the way down and I've still got a charge left. Maybe two."

"Don't you think 'maybe' is a bad word to be using in this context?"

"Look, if you're so intent on criticising me, you can take the amulet and give it a try!"

"You may have not considered this, but I don't think fooling around with the only thing holding us up right now is a good ide- watch out for that tree!"

At that point things happened very quickly.

The enchantment wore off. I was staring downwards, readying myself to call on it again, when my arm exploded in pain and the amulet fell out of my nerveless fingers.

Oh crap-

Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow!

A few moments later found me lying on the ground - and oh, I would never take that for granted again - staring up into the trees. One tree in particular, one whose branches bore the marks of our rather violent passing.

"I am never taking ground for granted again," I said out loud. It bore repeating.

"Agreed," came a voice from next to me. Apparently Varvur had survived our fall. Now I only needed to work out whether I had. "Honestly, I'm not sure whether to thank you for rescuing me or strangle you for almost getting me killed."

And just when I'd figured out - with relief - that I was still alive I found myself in mortal danger. Again. This was becoming strangely routine. "Now, I know this may sound very unexpected but I vote for the option without grievous bodily harm?" True, I thought he was being hyperbolic, but after the day I'd had I figured one couldn't be too careful. "And besides, if it weren't for you I wouldn't be in this situation myself so if anyone ought to be pondering murder here..."

"Well, I suppose I did come away with only minor injuries in the end, so I can't hold too much of a grudge." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Varvur had managed to sit up, although it had involved quite a bit of wincing and even more complicated maneuvering to make up for the fact that he was still in chains. "Are you all right?"

"I think so- wait." I noticed something in my first attempt to sit up. "Ooh, that's funny, I didn't know arms could bend that way."

"I think that's because they're not meant to." Varvur waddled closer. I'd say the reason I didn't laugh was out of courtesy, but since that was when the pain hit I suddenly had other things to worry about. "Yes, definitely broken. At least it wasn't your leg, since we need to walk out of here." He gave a rueful glance downwards. "Or hop."

I glanced at his chains, then realised that I still had Allding's lockpicks in my other, still useable hand. I'd been holding them before we teleported, and was now clutching them so tightly the indentations would probably still be visible two weeks from now. "I think I can do something about that..."

Thankfully for both of us, the tree had been so kind as to only break my right arm - that's courteous plant life for you. Picking a lock one-handed was something I'd spent some time practicing, but doing so with inferior, unfamiliar tools while trying to ignore a broken arm was difficult enough; if I'd had to do it without my dominant hand we might have been stuck there until we both starved to death.

Varvur watched me with bemusement. "Interesting. I didn't think mages went in for that sort of thing. But I suppose you were burgling the Archmaster's manor." He sounded disapproving.

"Look," I snapped, "I'm not a mage. Or a thief. Well, I was one once - a thief, that is, not a mage, but I'm retired now in any case, and I suppose you could say I'm sort of a mage but still -" Varvur was looking confused. I decided to simplify things. "I wasn't burgling anything, all right? I was an innocent bystander in all of this!"

"Really." The voice was dry enough to turn a swamp to desert. "Then what were you doing in the Archmaster's manor, muthsera not-a-thief?"

"First of all, my name is Adryn, so you can stop with the nickname." The chains on Varvur's ankles fell to the ground with a thud. "And - give me your wrists - it was a teleportation accident."

"You know," Varvur said reflectively as I started on his manacles, "if you'd asked me recently I would have told you that wasn't possible. Very recently, in fact. Up until... oh... ten minutes ago."

"That's me." I accidentally jostled my right arm and had to pause, gritting my teeth against a wave of pain. "Stretching the bounds of mortal achievement in ways we could definitely have done without." Click. There, that was the manacles. Now the only thing left was the bracer on his left forearm. It wasn't hindering him, true, but I recognised it - and more importantly, I could feel the tugging at my magicka just by holding my hand near it. It was a magicka-draining device, and if Varvur happened to know any useful spells (like, oh, to pick one entirely at random - healing spells) I wanted him free to cast them.

"By the way," I said as I wiggled the first pick, "who was that, anyway? You said something about the 'Archmaster'?" Ordinarily, I'd prefer to work without distractions, but Varvur was still looking disapproving about my less-than-legal past and I suspected that if I didn't find another topic of conversation we'd end up arguing about my career choices.

"Who was..." A pause. "You were burgling the manor of Bolvyn Venim, the Archmaster of House Redoran himself, without even knowing who it belonged to?"

"For the last time, I wasn't burgling-!" I cut myself off. I could see that this wasn't going to get me anywhere, and besides, the other part of that sounded rather ominous. "Um. I take it he's important, then?"

"'Take it he's important'?" I could actually hear Varvur's jaw drop. I looked up from my work to shoot him a glare, one which he rudely ignored. "He's the head of House Redoran on Vvardenfell! Lord of Ald'ruhn! Probably the most powerful man on the island after Archcanon Saryoni and Duke Dren!"

My heart sank with the approximate force and velocity of a Dunmer, bereft of Slowfall spells, dropping from three miles in midair (a comparison I had to say I felt uniquely able to make). "Thanks. That's, that's perfect. That's just what I was hoping to hear." I poked angrily at the lock. Not only were the pain and pulling sensation at my magicka making it hard to concentrate, but it was being recalcitrant. I dimly remembered that prisoners' bracers are said to be very difficult to pick, but I'd be damned if I got bested by a piece of metal. "I mean, I definitely wanted to make an enemy of one of the most powerful men here less than a week after I arrived. And I certainly wanted to do it in a way that left him able to identify me. My life didn't have enough excitement in it, you see."

Varvur, who'd been watching my actions with a steadily growing scowl - I wasn't sure whether it was my rubbing my criminal past in his face or the trouble I was having with the lock, but was readying a cutting retort for either case - snorted. "Don't you think you're being a bit paranoid?"

My jerk handily undid everything I'd managed so far and almost broke both picks as an encore. "Paranoid? Are you serious?" Wait, hadn't he said something about his father being... "Is this one of those nobility out-of-touch-with-reality things? I have no idea what you're used to but I assure you, for normal people like me, being worried about the reaction a man like that has to being crossed is-"

Varvur looked as if he were about to take offense to the 'normal people' comment but let it go in the end. "No, I mean that he seems to be under the impression that you're some sort of Telvanni mercenary." I looked blank. He heaved a long-suffering sigh. "Didn't you hear him? He said something like... 'I didn't think even Athyn would stoop so low as to consort with the Telvanni, but of course he insists on surprising me.'"

I thought back to the encounter. Come to think of it, some of those Dunmeris phrases had been a bit long for the equivalent of "Guards, arrest her". I'd just thought he was getting creative with his orders - perhaps something along the lines of "Guards, arrest this filthy spy and take her to the dungeons with the thumbscrews and pot of hot oil", although I had to admit I'd been holding out for the rather unlikely "Guards, take this completely innocent bystander and escort her to the exit, where you should let her go with a polite farewell and a few drakes for her trouble." In any case, I hadn't expected it to be anything like Varvur's translation.

It might be a good idea to look into learning the language. Were there classes?

From the corner of my eye, I noticed Varvur was now peering at me. "You do look rather Telvanni, come to think of it. The hair, and then you wearing mage robes... I mean, it's obvious that you're an outlander, but the Archmaster only saw you from a distance and didn't hear you speak. I guess I can see how he might make that mistake."

"Right. Lovely." I nudged one pick to the side slightly. Almost there... "I'm sure knowing he thinks I'm Telvanni will be useful, especially if I figure out what one is."

"Oh, of course, you're an outlander. Telvanni are another House, based on the east coast, mostly mages. They... well, they're Telvanni. I mean..."

Varvur trailed off, clearly stumped as to how to explain in what way exactly Telvanni were Telvanni. I didn't mind much, because I'd learned the most important thing - namely, that with the confusion about my identity I was unlikely to end up with an angry Venim chasing me down to be a change from his usual diet of noblemen and snow bears. Also, Varvur's silence gave me a moment to focus on-

There! A last tumbler hiding at the back - twist the pick like so-

The bracer fell to the ground. Varvur sighed in relief, and I could see his face starting to regain some colour. I couldn't blame him. Just a few minutes in contact with that thing had been unpleasant, and I hadn't even worn it.

"Thank you," he said.

About time, if you asked me. Rescue someone at great personal risk, and they only bother to thank you after you've put off treating your own injuries to free them from their chains. Hostages these days, honestly.

I'd been expecting Varvur to want a few moments to catch his breath and recover, but he was already struggling to his feet. "Things aren't going to get any better if we sit around here," he said in response to my quizzical look. "We need to find our way to the nearest town, and I'd prefer to spend as little time as possible tramping around in the dark."

I glanced to the west, where the sun was dipping dangerously low, and had to admit he had a point.



Next

They should be thanking that tree for blocking the last couple hundred feet of their - uh - drop! Otherwise they'd be worse off than a few bruises and a broken arm!

The entire conversation between Adryn and Varvur while she tried to concentrate on picking his locks (umm, was that a little bit of Derhtee Innu Endo?) was hilarious! But my favorite came at the end (right where my favorite bits should be):

I could just hear Adryn's voice here so well.

I have been (finally) getting caught up with Adryn again. I loved her mid-air antics with Varvur. It made me think of one of my favorite scenes from The Tick.

Well at least it looks like Archmukety-muck Venim won't be coming after Adryn. At least not yet. At least one good thing came out her misadventure!

GAAAAH! Oh, I remembered the thief casting chameleon, just not his name - and thought he was the one she rescued, lol. Sorry about that, see what happens when you go on vacation? Lol.



ROFL! And I pictured it!



Lost my hot cocoa all over the monitor, thank you! ROFL !!

This chapter has to go up among my favorites - the counter relationship between Adryn and Varvur is hilarious! Can't wait for MORE !!! Awesome Write!

@ haute - Oh no, the dreaded Dhertee Innu Endo! *coughs* I'm afraid it has to be pretty obvious before Adryn takes any note, but when she does... anyway! Am glad you liked Varvur and Adryn's bickering. *g*

@ SubRosa - I'm glad you caught up! Welcome back to Adryn! And thanks for linking that Tick video, I hadn't seen that and it was very funny... and very apt. Adryn nods ruefully in agreement at the "Gravity is a harsh mistress" quote!

@ mALX - no problem, I know it must be confusing to keep these people straight for folk who haven't played Morrowind. Re: Varvur and Adryn... just wait. *This* is still from the time I somehow, foolishly, believed I could make them get along!

And - thank you for mentioning the bit where Adryn went "I'd just thought he was getting creative in his orders"? Originally Bolvyn Venim said everything in Tamrielic/(English), but when I introduced Dunmeris and worked out linguistic patterns etc. I realised there was no reason he would once he believed Adryn was Telvanni. I was worried that the Dunmeris + later translation provided by Varvur would be awkward, so It's really reassuring you picked out part of that bit as one of your favourites. \o/

Last installment, Adryn and Varvur made it to the ground with one last mishap, which ended in a broken arm for Adryn. Heroically ignoring her pain, Adryn picked the locks on Varvur's chains and slave bracer so they could get away without him having to hop/being unable to cast spells. During the course of that, she learned that the nobleman they'd just fled from was a Very Important And Powerful person, but that she was probably safe from him because he seemed under the impression she was a "Telvanni", whatever that was.

Now, safe on the ground but thoroughly lost, Adryn and Varvur strike out to find civilisation. Will this go smoothly? Will it ever.



A brief time later found us making our way through the wilderness. Apparently, while we'd been floating in midair and I'd been desperately trying to keep us from dying, Varvur had decided this was the perfect time to do some leisurely sightseeing. I couldn't be too bitter about it because it meant he'd spotted a road to the east. As a result, we had a better plan of action than my suggestion of picking a direction at random.

I ducked under a branch Varvur was holding up for me. Given that it was hardly his fault I'd blundered into where he'd been being held hostage, I'd been forcing myself not to be angry with him. It was rather difficult - pain makes me short-tempered at the best of times, and this was certainly not the best of times - but I persevered. It helped that I knew he'd probably been having about as bad a day as me.

Varvur was also helping through being surprisingly congenial. Not only had he taken my pack (which I had been extremely relieved to find had survived totally unscathed - I suspected a broken arm would be the least of my worries if Chronicles of Nchuleft got damaged), but he'd even turned out to have a little knowledge of healing: he'd set my arm, fashioned a makeshift splint and sling for my arm using branches and strips torn from his shirt, and tried his best with a healing spell he knew once his magicka had recovered. It was only a minor one meant for bruises, but it did take the edge of the pain off.

Sadly, this meant most of the pain was entirely untouched.

"-where we are," the three words coming from in front of me managed to penetrate my mental haze.

Oh. Varvur was talking. Talking meant distraction, meant not thinking about the agony emanating from my arm. Talking was good. "Sorry, what did you say?"

"I said, I wish I knew where we are," Varvur repeated. "Not wet enough for the Bitter Coast and I don't smell the sea, I'd guess somewhere in the West Gash or maybe inland of the Ascadian Isles, near Lake Amaya-"

I'd been sufficiently distracted from my surroundings that the only thing I'd registered was "it's green and there are arm-breaking trees that hate me." I looked around.

We were walking among craggy hills dotted with low, scrubby bushes and the occasional copse of broad-leafed trees. The landscape was rocky and the vegetation generally sparse - I thought we might be in the rain shadow of the mountain, although I supposed the cause could also be poor soil. Still, there were a few plants I thought might be alchemically interesting. That bush over there, for one, or that tall plant with the big yellow-orange trumpet-shaped blossom and sharp-edged leaves.

"Not near Lake Amaya," I said. I'd only been there once but I had picked up something of the area. "The flora's all wrong and there aren't any giant mushrooms masquerading as trees. It looks more like the landscape near Balmora."

Varvur looked as if he were going to argue that, then paused for a moment and just nodded. Maybe I wasn't the only one keeping a tight rein on their temper. "West Gash, then. Sadly, that means we could be anywhere between Khuul and the Odai Plateau. And most likely nowhere near Ald'ruhn."

For a moment I thought longingly of the enchanted map that had come into my possession, the map that could tell us exactly where we were for just a trickle of magicka. The map I'd left at the guild that morning, thinking I wouldn't need it for a quick sight-seeing jaunt to another city...

Wait a minute. What had Varvur just said?

"We were in Ald'ruhn?" I didn't exactly know this island very well, but I did remember talking with Selvil about the Balmora silt strider schedule and destinations. "Isn't that north of Balmora?"

Varvur stared at me as if I'd grown a second head. "Yes, we were. And it is. Where on Nirn did you think we were?"

"Well... I was shopping in Vivec when I cast the spell. I managed to figure out I hadn't made it to their Temple or in fact any Temple, but..."

Now Varvur stared at me as if I'd grown a third head and my mutant self was arguing with herself and blundering into trees. "You got to Venim's manor with an Almsivi Intervention spell from Vivec?"

I couldn't help but feel defensive. Yes, I'd managed to figure out that I'd screwed up this spell in a spectacular and unprecedented way, and twice in a row to boot. No need to rub it in. "In my defense, I was being attacked by a murderer at the time, so I didn't exactly have time to concentrate!"

"But even if you weren't concentrating, it's not meant to-" Varvur paused. "Murderer?"

I shuddered at the memory. The woman, the dagger gleaming with malicious magicka, her blank eyes... I wasn't used to people trying to kill me just because I was there. I prefer my murder attempts more personal, thank you very much. If someone chases you through half the city screaming about how they'll wring your filthy dark elven neck for stealing their- for accidentally having their purse fall into your pocket in a mishap that could really happen to anyone, then at least you know that they're objecting to your continued existence on an individual basis.

Oh. Varvur was waiting for an explanation.

"Yes, murderer. I was having a... polite discussion about hospitality with an Ordinator when this woman with an enchanted dagger stabbed him from behind, cut his throat and then tried to get me." I firmly shoved the remembered panic down. I could have a nervous breakdown about all of this once I was somewhere safe and - oh yes - no longer had a broken arm.

Ow.

"Right, I remember hearing about this from a trader. They say there's been a rash of murders in Vivec - mainly outlanders. I don't remember them saying anything about surviving witnesses, though." Varvur sounded thoughtful.

"You mean... you mean I might be the only person who can identify her?" The thought made me cringe.

Of course, it would be good to help end her sleepmurdering serial killer ways. All arguments about altruism and service to the community aside (really, please set them aside), I'd rather like to be able to visit Vivec again one day without fearing for my life, something that wasn't going to happen as long as she was running around. However, I was worried that being the sole witness to a murder would require me to spend far longer with law enforcement than I liked. And that was without factoring in that Vivec law enforcement apparently consisted of Master Grumpy's colleagues.

"Say, have you ever considered getting yourself checked at a Temple?"

I was jerked out of nightmare scenarios in which Ordinators featured prominently by Varvur's voice. Varvur's voice asking an exceptionally stupid question, at that, and at the moment my tolerance for stupidity was a lot lower than usual (which is, I admit, saying something.)

"Why, no," I said acidly. "I was thinking I'd just keep wandering around with a broken arm, I'm sure it'll magically heal itself overnight-"

"No, no - although speaking of which," Varvur stopped walking and turned to face me, "I have enough magicka to use that spell again."

A few minutes, a cast spell and some blessed pain relief later, Varvur continued. "What I meant was getting yourself checked for curses."

"Curses?" Maybe it was the day I'd had, but I wasn't quite following.

Varvur nodded, then started walking again. In usual circumstances, I'd probably be swearing at my aching legs at this point, but this is one of the dubious upsides to broken bones - it makes all the usual aches and pains next to unnoticeable in comparison! "It happened to Unc- um, House Father Arobar, one of the other Redoran Councilors. He told me about it when I was younger. Apparently there are curses that give you bad luck, you see. He had a week where everything seemed to go wrong. Finally he ended up attacked by a flock of cliff racers during an ash storm on the way to Maar Gan, and when he was in the Temple being healed the priest told him he'd been cursed."

I had to admit that was a very appealing thought. Appealing in the sense that if it was a curse, I could go to the Temple, get it removed and rest assured that these things would stop happening to me. Sadly, I suspected that this was actually a case of some gods (definitely several, one couldn't explain all this) with a grudge. Or possibly ones with an inventive and highly sadistic sense of humour. And-

A thought struck me and I groaned.

"What? It's not impossible, and-" Varvur seemed affronted to think I was casting doubt on his idea.

"No, no, it's just - I cannot believe that someone who's just been kidnapped and held hostage is saying they find my bad luck remarkable," I moaned. To distract myself from how unbelievable my misfortune had clearly become, I tried to think of a change of topic.

The universe, possibly feeling apologetic for what it had been putting me through, decided to take care of that for me.

"Hail and well met, travellers!"

My head whipped around and I stared in the direction of the strange voice. A split second later, I had my eyes firmly shut.

We'd been so engrossed in talking that neither of us had realised we were nearing the edge of the road Varvur had spotted. However, the Nord standing on the road had clearly noticed us. I might be a bit more detailed in my description of him, except that where I might usually notice hair colour or age I'd found my attention firmly drawn by the fact that he was utterly, unrepentantly, positively ostentatiously naked.

"Uh. Er." Judging by his incoherency, I suspected Varvur was equally bowled over by the sudden appearance of a Nord with nudist tendencies.

"Fine evening today, isn't it?" the Nord continued, apparently undeterred by our gaping.

"Ah. Yes. I. I. Suppose." And Varvur sounded as if he was going to keep up his best impression of a concussed cow for a while.

I opened my eyes into a squint in case the shocks of the day had caused us both to hallucinate (or perhaps another word would be more appropriate, since this wouldn't be "seeing things that aren't there" so much as the opposite...) Alas, the pale pinkish blob that greeted me before I shut my eyes again made clear I was hoping in vain.

"A mite chilly, maybe."

Okay, that was it.

"Have you ever considered," I said between clenched teeth, "that the reason you are finding it 'a mite chilly' might be because you are naked."

"Why, of course!" The man had the gall to sound surprised. "Forgive me - I nearly forgot, you see."

"Forgot. That you were naked." I had the strangest sensation of the universe spinning out of control around me. "Why. Are you. Naked."

"Well, friends, that is a story indeed-"

"Excuse me." Varvur seemed to have regained control of his tongue. "Good... good sir." Good garment-challenged sir, I corrected silently. "Before we continue this discussion, I would like to lend you my shirt."

"That's very kind of you, but-"

"Really. I insist." Varvur seemed to be surprisingly good at this diplomacy thing once he overcame shock; I suspected that if I hadn't just spent several hours defying death in new and creative ways with him I wouldn't even have noticed the edge of desperation to his voice.

"Ah, very well then-"

Rustling noises followed.

"Is it safe to look yet?" I hissed at Varvur.

"How do you expect me to know?" he hissed back.

I cracked one eye open suspiciously, then, relieved, opened the other. Now, this may appear slightly unusual - I must admit that ordinarily, the sight of a Nord in a red velvet loincloth would not be something I welcomed with anything other than screams of horror. This just goes to show one of those maxims of the universe -

Context really is everything.

"Thank you, friends!" the Nord boomed. "You have Hlormar Wine-Sot's gratitude."

"Don't mention it," I muttered. "Really."

"Indeed, tis good to know that all travellers are not as dishonourable and treacherous as that evil witch Sosia!" Hlormar continued.

"Witch?"

Hlormar's face fell into a frightful scowl. "Indeed. With her foul magics she stole my father's axe Cloudcleaver! Oh, and my other possessions," Hlormar added as if as an afterthought.

"Including your clothes, I assume."

Hlormar continued as though he hadn't heard me. "A precious heirloom for my family is Cloudcleaver! To have lost it to such treachery shames me and all my ancestors. I must retrieve it." At this point he paused, as if struck by a sudden thought. "Say, travellers, would you aid me? The witch cannot have gone far, and if we pursue her together she will surely quail in front of our superior forces."

I stared at the Nord, trying to work out how to diplomatically phrase my reaction to that suggestion (which could be summed up in words if one tried, but I really felt desperate screaming got the meaning across better). "Ah, that is of course a very... I mean, we would definitely help you but I'm afraid we're a bit-"

Varvur cleared his throat.



Notes: For the non-Morrowind players: yes, this is in fact an in-game quest. I don't think I'm quite demented enough to come up with this one on my own.

Next

Ah! Shades of the Gweden Farm Quest from TES IV! That's the one where a gang of seductive women lure married men (yes, married meant!) up to an isolated farm outside of lovely Anvil to rob them once they're - uhh - well, naked! Or is this Witch more of the bitter old crone type, quick to cast curses and cackle at the thought of making strong men cower?

Funny that both Adryn and Varvur should be so intimidated by the sight of a naked Nord. Me, on the other hand . . .

Oh, be quiet, Dhertee Innu Endo!

Oh my...the list of the running joke is within Morrowind, and both it's expansions. It's only natural that this subject would be eventually touched upon.

Of course, if you play with Better Bodies mod, as I do, and you're not a giggling elementary school kid, which would just make me a little more impressive if I were....then you get the Full Monty as the developers intended!

Well written once more Kazaera.

Well, these past two have been nice installments.

First off, say what you will about the Nine, but I would point out that a kind word or three for Kynareth (or Kyne, as we'll see in a moment) would be appropriate. That tree could just as easily have concentrated its 'fall-breaking' into a single hit on the head, and then where would we all be?

Also, while a nice Slowfall spell is a useful thing for bone-saving and such, do you know what else works really well?

Flight.

Like, say, I don't know, a Traveling Cloak of Flyingness. Since it can make one rain-proof and provide aerial maneuvering abilities. I don't know why nobody thought of this before. Oh, wait...

*(Runs away before Adryn decides to make said cloak out of Breto-Nord leather.)

It is good to see the young Sarethi lad pull his own weight and make himself useful. The problem I always had in the game was that you only really get to interact with him during a jail-break, all while he's unarmed and unarmored. Not a lot that can be done while fighting off heavily armed guards. Seeing him navigate the wilderness and administer medical care with his limited resources shows the side we'd expect of an up-and-coming young nobleman with a lot more to give.

Alas, their navigational issues are less easily resolved. Though they might soon remedy that. Is that a large road sign with directions in the distance? It very well could...

Nope. Just a large naked Nord standing by the side of the road.


Now, now, Rider, that's no fair at all.

The Dunmeri are elves with memories of the Nordic invasions when a great two-handed Battle-Axe was certain doom for all ash-skinned warriors. The only thing that ever matched such a monstrosity was the Warhammer-wielding Orc bands that wanted to join in the fun. And when the Nordic king wielding Wuuthrad and the Orc Chieftain swinging Volendrung compared their weapons nobody ever came away satisfied.

Besides, not all of us schedule our days so that we're heading to the baths of Cloud Ruler Temple just as Captain Steffan is readying himself for bed...

*Runs and jumps off a mountain-cliff while shouting "ODAHVIING! Now would be nice!" since aerial escape is his only option. A dragon-steed really is the only thing better for riding than a Reach-horse with untested magical abilities. Barely.

Nice. Only a Nord.


Your Naked Nord is so amusing, his legendary nakedness becomes secondary. Drat those witches!

I adore Adryn and Varvur together. The image of them both standing there with their eyes closed hissing at each other is just priceless!

@haute ecole rider - re: the witch in question... we'll see! I am glad you can appreciate the sight of a naked Nord; I'm afraid Hlormar's in-game audience is less than receptive to the sight of his... *coughs*.

@Black Hand - let's face it, the instant I remembered the naked Nord quests when planning Adryn I realised this had to happen. The scene basically writes itself! Glad you like my take on the classic Morrowind running joke.

@Captain Hammer - Adryn got somewhat turned off Kynareth worship thanks to partially growing up in an orphanage attached to her temple, but I think this is an exception where she might find herself inclined to thanks. Although she'd still have preferred no trees at all. /o\ She would also like to point out that it wasn't as if she was expecting this to happen, or else she'd have prepared better.

I'm glad you like what I've done with Varvur! I realised that doing the quest this way gives me the chance to make him more of an active character as opposed to the, well, lump you have to drag around in-game. Also, your comment about Dunmer reactions to naked Nords had me rolling!

@Grits - I am glad my Nord has met with approval from the creator of Jerric! I'm also glad you're enjoying Adryn and Varvur together - I'm finding they bounce really well off each other and are fun to write in a scene, so!

Last installment, Varvur Sarethi and Adryn had an encounter with a Naked Nord. (Yes, the capitalisation is necessary.) He told them about a cowardly witch who'd used magic to rob him of his treasued family heirloom... oh, right, and all his clothes too... and asked them for help. Adryn was about to refuse, but it looked as if Varvur had something to say. Now, we see how that's turned out.



"Explain to me again," I said, glaring at Varvur, "exactly why we're doing this?"

"It's a matter of honour," was his rather unhelpful response.

Oh, wonderful. And I'd been hoping he was at least somewhat sensible. Maybe the sight of a naked or almost-naked Nord had similarly negative effects on the unprepared mind as helmets in all their varieties? (It would explain a great deal about Skyrim culture...). If so, I was luckily immune; even the sight of a loinclothed Nord walking some distance in front of me hadn't made me any more inclined towards getting violently involved in the business of strangers on account of 'honour'.

"Honour? We're stuck Hermaeus-Mora-knows-where with hardly more than the clothes on our back - less than that for some of us, in fact - it's going to be getting dark soon and we have no shelter in sight, my thrice-damned arm is broken, you just signed us up to go hunting a witch with our bare hands and a bare Nord and you're talking about honour?"

Varvur flushed. "I forgot about your arm."

"Lovely. How nice for you. I didn't." As a matter of fact my arm was throbbing, I imagined in protest at this entire absurd plan of action.

For the several dozenth time, I considered leaving the two fools to it and looking for civilisation on my own. Just as before, I decided that I was doomed and at least the witch would hopefully kill me quickly.

"Maybe if you just... stay back..." Varvur's voice trailed off.

"Brilliant idea, that. I'm certain you'll easily subdue her with your amazing unarmed prowess before she has the chance to turn us all into dust with lightning bolts. Or maybe you could just shock her into submission by asking Hlormar to whip off his loincloth again. Since you're bosom buddies now and all."

Varvur's shoulders fell. He looked so pathetically dejected that I might, possibly, have felt sorry for him if he hadn't been marching us towards certain mage-induced death. "Adryn, I asked him earlier and - we're north of Caldera. That's Redoran country, it's not so far from Ald'ruhn. I have a duty to the people here, you know? If there's some witch going around stealing people's- people's belongings-"

"You can say 'clothes'," I threw in. "It won't kill you."

"-well, I have to do something about that. Just letting her go on would be cowardly. Any Redoran would agree."

I had to give a moment of silent thanks that I wasn't a Redoran, because not going to attack a mage while unarmed and half-naked seemed to me to belong more in the realm of possessing a brain.

And speaking of possessing brains...

"Look, doesn't this seem a little... dubious to you?" I asked.

Varvur looked at me incomprehendingly. "Going to rid the countryside of a dangerous, magic-using bandit?"

I sighed. Sometimes you get tired of being the only person in your surroundings with the slightest drop of sense. "What I'm saying is, we've only got Hlormar's word for it that that's what happened. Does he honestly strike you as the kind of person whose word you ought to take without any further questions?"

We looked at Hlormar.

As if on cue, we heard a bellow of "Cursed witch! This is what I will do to your head when I catch you!" from up ahead, followed by a loud thunk and a groan of pain. "...I did not think the tree trunk would be quite so hard..."

"Point taken," Varvur said, then blinked. "Wait a moment, are you defending the witch where just a moment ago you were talking about how she'd certainly kill us?"

I gritted my teeth. "Unlike what sometimes feels like the majority of the population, I am capable of keeping several possibilities in my head at the same time. If the witch is dangerous, we're dead, so why on Nirn are we going along with this? If the witch isn't dangerous, Hlormar was lying to us and there's no reason to hurt her but he'll probably kill us if we side with her, so why on Nirn are we going along with this? The inescapable conclusion, you might realise at this point-"

"Of course, I hadn't thought of that." I perked up in hope, hope which was mercilessly crushed with Varvur's next sentence. (Brute.) "If the witch isn't dangerous, honour demands that we follow Hlormar to keep him from harming her."

I stared at him. "Excuse me. Are we actually speaking the same language? Because I say things, then you say things, but the logical connection between the two seems to have gone for a holida-"

"Oh, hello!" A feminine voice echoed from my left.

I turned my head to stare at the (supposedly) dreadfully dangerous witch we'd been hunting and had apparently managed to walk straight past.

I had to admit she didn't look very dangerous. She was an Imperial or Breton - her pale skin and dark brown hair meant she must be one of the two, but which was hard to tell from the distance - and I guessed her to be around thirty years old. She was wearing simple robes with patches and stains that were visible even from here and was just straightening from a crouch in front of a bush some distance from the path, holding a small knife in one hand and a bundle of leaves in the other. Now, appearances and the kinship for a fellow alchemist can be deceiving , so she obviously could still be lethal and about to kill us all... but I had to doubt it. The way she grinned at us and waved as she approached made me doubt it even more (along with her sense).

"I haven't seen anyone around for hours! My name is Sosia, I'm a healer trying to get to Ald'ruhn- are you sure you want to be running around half-naked like that?" That was directed at the shirtless Varvur. "You might catch something! Folvys at the Temple says that chills lower your resistance to diseases and- oh! Your arm!" She'd noticed my makeshift splint.

The next few seconds confirmed my earlier assertions that if the witch we were looking for was in any way dangerous we were dead, because both of us were too busy staring like stunned trout trying to keep up with the babble to stop Sosia as she marched into my personal space and splayed her fingers in a spell. Thankfully for both of us, she also confirmed my suspicions that she wasn't actually hostile in the slightest, as any dangerous witch who starts her fiendish attacks by healing her enemies is clearly too incompetent to deserve the title.

"Mara, thank you," I moaned as a blessed coolness settled over my arm and the everpresent stabbing pain died away.

"Now, there's only so much I can do right now, so make sure to keep that arm in a sling for a while longer," Sosia admonished. "Breaks heal best when you use small spells several times a day - I'd say morning, noon and evening for at least three days for that break. Trying to heal it all at once with a major spell can result in weaknesses in the bone that lead to quicker and worse fractures later on, so it's best avoided."

I blinked at the stream of information, but one thing jumped out at me. "Will potions do as well for the frequent healing?"

Sosia frowned. "In a pinch, I guess, but it's really best to use spells. They can be localized more easily, and-"

"WITCH!"

Apparently Hlormar had noticed Sosia, who squeaked at the sight of an enraged Nord in a red velvet loincloth storming towards her. I groaned. I'd hoped he'd just continue charging ahead ignoring everything behind him until he safely was out of sight.

"Foul deceiver and filthy thief! I shall crush your skull like a-"

"Wait, stop, I mean, can't we talk about this?" Sosia was backing away rapidly.

"I will not negotiate with evil witches!" Hlormar bellowed from a by now uncomfortably close distance. I pondered whether he was trying to burst our eardrums in lieu of proper weaponry.

"Stop this madness!" If he was, Varvur had decided to join him in it. "This woman is clearly not deserving of death, fiend, and if you continue to try to murder her I will stand against you!" He acted on his suicidally-chivalrous speech, one I suspected he'd stolen from a play, by stepping in front of Sosia and me - straight into Hlormar's path.

Hlormar stopped in apparent confusion for a moment, during which I hoped that this turn of events was too much for his walnut-sized brain to cope with and he'd freeze in confusion. Alas, he started moving forward again. "Traitor! I'll crush you with her!"

I shifted nervously from foot to foot as Hlormar squared off with Varvur. True, the way Varvur moved and the way he effortlessly dodged Hlormar's first punch spoke of a trained warrior, but he still looked like a starved child in front of Hlormar's broad frame. If one hit connected, he'd be finished. I was worried I was about to see murder done - in particular, Varvur's, then Sosia's, and finally my own, and with all due respect to altruism that last was one I particularly wanted to prevent - but there was nothing I could do.

Wait.

There was something I could do.

After all, it had been several days now since my encounter with the kagouti, and a certain core of power I'd exhausted then was once again burning brightly within me.

I almost groaned out loud. Falling unconscious is not my idea of a good time, and neither is the fatigue clinging to you afterwards. Well, let no one say I wasn't willing to sacrifice myself for the safety of all.

Varvur and Hlormar were circling now, eyes fixed on each other. Neither of them was paying me the slightest bit of attention. I should probably feel insulted at having been so thoroughly discounted as a threat, but had to admit they'd usually be right in their estimation. Besides, it made it laughably easy to make my way behind Hlormar without him noticing and breaking my neck (I feel the need to point out that I was willing to sacrifice myself in a figurative sense only!)

I focused and tapped Hlormar on the shoulder. He froze obligingly.

Then everything went black.



Next

I love deadpan humor.

Agent Cho on the Mentalist questioning a high-profile suspect with political power:

Suspect: "I could have your job with one phone call!"

Agent Cho: "That's impressive. All I can get with one phone call is a large pizza in under thirty minutes."




I think we all would!

Lol, as usual great writing and update here, Kazaera!

I just love the healer’s advice about mending the broken arm. Love it!

Just as before, I decided that I was doomed and at least the witch would hopefully kill me quickly.

My favorite line in a very funny update.

Oh my Gods! What a hilarious scene you have painted here.

First, your comment about in this context gets me thinking about - umm - family jewels, which is perfectly indicative of the sort of mind I have. From here my reading of this hilarious segment just gets worse --

Then Varvur says Yes, Varvur, you can say family jewels! Perfectly acceptable in this forum, of course.

Then we meet the supposedly evil witch, who is and I'm thinking and family jewels in the other but no - it's Leaves? Leaves??

Then we have Adryn narrating yet more in her endearing wry style: May I point out that most of Hlormar's IQ seems to rest in those family jewels, and that the witch has stolen it them?

I warned you that's how my mind goes! Honestly, Kaz, Adryn does not require any help from me at all to make this hilariously funny!

See, Kaz, you write things, then I read those things, and it's like I get a little extra joy in my week, especially when there's a holida...

*Dirty Rider's comments are subsequently read.*

Anyways, where was I? Oh, yes, Adryn and Varvur are conversing and yet clearly not communicating, and then this woman shows up that knows the secret sporadic-writers'-forum-handshake...I mean, the obvious "Look, I'm just an alchemist and medicinal healer"-handshake and sets about doing some actual healing.

Reports of Demise-by-Lightning have been greatly exaggerated.

Those little touches of healing magic's more esoteric applications (I'll have to remember it, Awtwyr's always been complaining about that ankle since I pointed out that taking a shortcut on the way out of a totally-unknown-mushroom-tower-definitively-not-located-in-a-town-with-no-men located on some island that doesn't require mention might be a good idea when said tower's occupants may have realized his presence) and how to heal structural injuries so they don't cause long-term issues is a really nice touch.

Also, wait, did the Nord just try to charge the alleged-Witch, only for our noble Varvur to stand up nobly and try to take him on with some unarmed combat? I swear, if the lad gets too much more sense into him he just might turn into one of those frightful things called protagonists.

Oh, and Adryn's decided to use her power again. Good thing there's a Witch nearby, as that should be enough to prevent the blackou...

Nope. Still not enough. Adryn, my dear, it's called "Endurance" and "Willpower". Those attributes will save your life. And your Stamina, which based on your experience almost makes them one in the same. At the very least, you'll have more of your dignity left.

*Dirty Rider's comments are finally processed.*

I need a drink. Probably a pint of Scumble, to start.

@Black Hand - thanks! I admit I'd probably react much like Sosia myself. No one expects the angry Nord berserkers in velvet loincloths...

@Grits - am glad you like the comments on healing! I wanted magical healing to be more complicated than just whooshing sound effects and sparkles and your health bar is full, and I thought things like too-quick healing leading to structural weakness would make sense.

@haute ecole rider - okay, I am dead. You have slain me. My undead corpse is writing this update. The murder investigation squad will be at your door any minute now.

I mean, I thought my mind was in the gutter sometimes, but clearly I have a long distance left to go. I bow before your mastery. Also, thank you for making sure I will never be able to read that update again without ending up on the floor with laughter! I appreciate your generosity and sharing spirit!

@Captain Hammer - thank you! Re: Varvur, he is being quite protagonist-y, isn't he? A side-effect of the way I'm writing Adryn is that other characters often need to step up to take over the classic Morrowind protagonist duties (like facing down angry Nords), which I didn't think of at the start but I quite like now because it lets NPCs be more active. I mean, hey, Varvur *is* the only combat trained character apart from Hlormar. And... yeeaah, Adryn's Endurance is abysmal. *g* We are going to have to wait quite a while until she can take Damage Fatigue 200pts on Self and still be conscious at the end.

Last installment, Adryn and Varvur went hunting for dangerous witches with the no-longer-entirely-naked Hlormar and found one distinctly harmless-looking healer. Hlormar did not take their abandoning his plan for vengeance well and ended up attacking them. Adryn interrupted his stand-off with Varvur by using Lover's Kiss to paralyze him... and then immediately collapse unconscious.



"I could have taken him," was the first thing I heard when I woke.

"Varvur, leave her be." Another voice, this. A woman's. "Are you awake now? This is the first time I've ever seen the Mooncalf's Collapse - my teacher, he said it was basically a severe case of magicka-induced exhaustion, but it's not as if you see many of those either and I'm not sure the energising spell I used was strong enough- er, can you hear me?"

I tried to say 'yes, unfortunately', but the only thing that came out of my throat was a groan. Apparently my vocal cords were on tea break. I didn't bother trying to open my eyes. Something about the way each eyelid felt like a Nord was sitting on it made me doubt any attempt would be successful.

I was lying on the ground, I noted fuzzily. Ground. A truly wonderful thing to be lying on - today was giving me a whole new appreciation for it. After our earlier separation, I thought it would be positively ungrateful of me to reduce this joyful reunion in any way. By, for instance, attempting to sit up.

"I'll take that as a 'not strong enough' on the energising spell," the voice said. "Just a moment."

Magicka washed over me in a refreshing flood.

I cracked open one eyelid. Two faces stared down at me. Varvur's face was set in a scowl, while Sosia was beaming. I wasn't entirely certain which I found more threatening.

"Any better?"

"Much." My vocal cords had apparently been spurred back to work by the spell, although judging by the creakiness of my voice there had been a fair bit of grumbling involved.

I grabbed the hand Sosia held down to me with my uninjured arm and used it to gingerly lever myself upright, silently promising the ground that we would be meeting again, at length, as soon as I could manage it. I did have to admit I might renege on that promise if someone offered me a bed.

A quick glance around showed that we seemed to have lost one angry Nord - something I wasn't planning to shed any tears over - and gained one large battleaxe that glimmered with enchantment. Varvur had it tucked into his belt, and the scowl on his face looked just as deep from a vertical position.

"I could have taken him!" he repeated.

"Eh?" My brain was still getting back up to speed.

"The Nord. He had no training in hand-to-hand at all, he was used to winning by being bigger than everyone else. He was slow, obvious, and really wasn't paying attention to his footwork. I was about to-"

I blinked as he continued. I wasn't sure if the things Varvur was saying were actually Tamrielic; I'd certainly never heard of things like an 'outer leg reap' or 'Baranat's wheel' before.

Eventually, Varvur noticed Sosia and me staring blankly and cut off his speech mid-sentence. His scowl deepened. I considered telling him that his face might stick like that, but decided it was unlikely to improve the situation. "I had him! You didn't need to interfere!"

Wait a minute. I couldn't possibly be understanding this correctly.

"You're angry with me for saving all our lives?" I asked blankly.

Judging by his expression, I'd just poured oil on the fire. "I'm not angry with you for saving your lives - our lives were never in danger, because I had him! I'm furious with some, some coward who interferes in an honourable duel, using magic, from behind-"

That-

I-

I'd had a really terrible day, and a not insignificant portion of that could be laid directly at this fool's feet, and now he-

All right. That was it.

"Honour? You mean I should have just sat there and waited to see which one of you won in order to satisfy your honour? No thank you. I happen to have this strange thing called 'sense', you see, and I find that vastly preferable to being a muscle-bound idiot with lichen growing where their brain should be who thinks they can solve all their problems by punching them - oh, I'm sorry, to being honourable." I tried to pile as much disdain into that last word as I could so Varvur would catch it, seeing as thinking obviously wasn't one of his strong points.

Varvur swelled in a manner vaguely reminiscent of a bullfrog - I wondered if there was some relation. His mouth opened and shut, but the only sound he made was a strange, wordless croaking noise (more evidence for a possible amphibian heritage!) By his side, his hands clenched into fists, lifted-

"What, now you want to attack me?" I asked, incredulous. A tiny voice in the back of my mind mentioned that this was where I should probably back down. It was smothered by rage. "All that spouting off about honour, and now you're going to hit a girl who's unarmed, untrained, recovering from severe exhaustion, and has a broken arm? What are you planning to do next, beat up a nine-year-old?"

Varvur lowered his fists, face going an unhealthy-looking shade of purple. The spotted violet Glenumbran marsh toad, perhaps? "Well- well-" he sputtered, "well, if you hadn't bungled that Intervention spell we wouldn't even be in this situation!"

I could hardly believe my ears. "Are you actually complaining? You? The kidnap victim? Please note that however we got here, you are now outside," I gestured at our surroundings, "on the ground, no longer in chains, free to go where you like. If it weren't for me you'd still be in that cell! If anything you should be thanking me on bended-"

"Er, excuse me? Varvur? Adryn?"

I realised with a twinge of guilt that I'd completely forgotten about Sosia. Judging by Varvur's expression, so had he.

"I'm sure you're both enjoying yourselves, but shouldn't we start moving before it gets dark? You can keep arguing once we're walking," she added, in the same tone I suspected she might promise a child some sweets.

Varvur and I glared at each other.

"Fine," we chorused.

*****

Contrary to Sosia's expectations, Varvur and I didn't continue arguing once we were on the road. Instead, the silence between us was so thick you could have cut it with a knife, and I wouldn't have been at all surprised to see a miniature thundercloud pop into existence over one of our heads.

I suspected he was waiting for me to apologise for impugning his honour or something similarly ridiculous. Well, fine. I'd apologise to him right after he apologised to me for being an ungrateful lichen-brained thug with the manners of a donkey. And not just any donkey - a donkey who'd been brought up by wolves (or the donkey equivalent), one who made all the civilised donkeys bray in horror at his lack of manners. As this would most likely be a long wait, I talked to Sosia instead.

Apparently Varvur had struck some sort of deal with Hlormar after I had heroically sacrificed myself to incapitate him. By 'struck', of course, I mean 'told him how it was going to be without letting him get a word in edgewise', because Nine forbid Varvur attempt diplomacy - that would require listening to other people, we couldn't have that. And by 'deal', I mean some sort of absurd arrangement that only someone who'd through some bizarre twist of fate managed to get himself addicted to intelligence-draining potions- ahem, I mean a truly honourable person could have thought of. According to Sosia, it involved Varvur taking Cloudcleaver, then meeting Hlormar in Ald'ruhn in a week or so to see whether he'd 'changed his ways' and 'deserved' to have his family heirloom of sharp-edged death to witches returned (where witch meant woman who refused to share his bedroll, according to Sosia's version of that story). This instead of just knocking the man unconscious and stealing the cursed axe already like anyone in possession of even the tiniest amount of sense would do.

Furthermore, it seemed that while I was recovering from my heroic sacrifice, Varvur and Sosia had decided that it would be safest to stick together until we got back to Ald'ruhn. They then got carried away with their newfound power and also agreed that instead of making for Ald'ruhn and arriving in the middle of the night we should make for a nearby farmhouse down in the valley and ask for shelter. I, apparently, was an item on roughly the same level as Cloudcleaver or my books who did not need to be consulted. Why bother asking all of the people you're travelling with what they think, after all.

It was at around this point in time that Sosia's conversation deteriorated remarkably due to her having fits of giggles every time I spoke. I decided to leave her with Varvur as punishment and sped up my pace. I wanted to indulge in my sulk (I'd realised it was a sulk, but at this point I figured I'd earned one) with no mocking bystanders.

As a result, I was well ahead of the other two when I encountered the next Nord.



Notes: One of the hilarious things about writing this chapter was that up until I reached this point, I thought Varvur and Adryn would get along. This is actually kind of puzzling, because if you look back you'll notice they have been bickering at pretty much every conceivable opportunity, including in midair. But nevertheless, I was writing along expecting them to be friends. I opted to have Adryn take care of Hlormar mainly so I could skip over the details of what happened to him due to her being unconscious... but suddenly Varvur got offended. And then ADRYN got offended. And then they were at each other's throats while I was going "guys? ...guys? ...wait, how did I manage to not realise that they hate each other."

On the plus side, the upcoming chapters are a lot more... colourful than I'd planned them originally!

Next

I cracked open one eyelid. Two faces stared down at me. Varvur's face was set in a scowl, while Sosia was beaming. I wasn't entirely certain which I found more threatening.

How perfectly Adryn. Someone coming at her with a hug might be almost as bad as someone with a knife.

They then got carried away with their newfound power…

And now she’s between another Nord and her disagreeable companions. Right where she put herself.

This is waaaay better than the concerned guy hovering over the girl who *sacrificed* herself for his sake! I loved the bickering in the earlier installments, but this is ratcheting things up to a whole new level! If you wanted to make this a romantic comedy between Adryn and Varvur, you are well-established on that point. Even the best rom-coms don't come close to this! And not to worry, even if they don't develop romantic feelings for each other, this is enough like sibling rivalry for those of us who have siblings to enjoy reading the progression of their relationship (what relationship?? oh, yeah, that relationship!).

As for: this has happened often enough to me to give you an (unsolicited) iota of advice: when this happens, roll with it! Typically when characters decide to dictate their own story, the results are just waaaaay better! It's a good sign that you are experiencing this, because it strongly suggests to me that you are on to something really good . . .

This.
This is what I love about writing Dunmer characters. They are so colorful, in more ways than one!

As anyone who has read Trey's Blood on the Moon will attest, this single word, especially when italicized, lends itself well to a hearty drinking song! As a matter of fact, now I have a hankering for some mead!

And you're welcome for my comments on the previous installment! I will admit that I am, however, no master at the double innuendo - that honor belongs to Dee Foxy. However, my veterinary training remains very strong, and it erupted (??) in full force when I was reading that installment!

@Grits - Someone coming at her with a hug might be almost as bad as someone with a knife - why, you know Adryn so well!

@haute - no romantic comedy here, but they are definitely approaching sibling-esque bickering (yep, I have a brother, I can appreciate what that means ). And I do love the moments when the characters just totally take over from what you had planned... especially because in this case the plot I'd worked out still worked fine, it just became a *lot* more interesting along the way. Don't worry, I'm inclined to give them free rein when they're sure on where they want to go - it generally works out far better than if I try to force them in a particular direction.

And I may also have thought of Blood on the Moon when the dreaded italicized Fine appeared, but it was so utterly perfect for that situation...

Last installment, Adryn woke up from her birthsign-induced unconsciousness to discover that Varvur was not particularly happy to have had his life saved by - er, to have been rudely interrupted during an honourable fight he was definitely going to win by a magic-using girl. After some argument, they (along with Sosia) set out for a nearby farmhouse to ask for shelter for the night. On the way, Adryn encountered another Nord. Now... who could this be?



If you have ever been in King Thian's art collection (for instance, by passing through on an errand that had nothing whatsoever to do with the custom-designed magelights bracketed in solid gold a certain steward with a higher budget than was good for him had bought), you might have spotted a few pieces by Tilenu Neloren, an artist famous for her study of illusions both magical and otherwise. One of her works there is particularly striking - a painting of abstract shapes where you will find your eyes inexorably drawn to one particular point in the upper left corner. It really stuck in my memory, something that might be thanks to intellectual fascination, might be thanks to the fact that I'd been on lookout duty when I spotted it and the resulting narrow escape had been very narrow indeed.

Now, picture this: a hilly, rocky landscape at dusk, all subdued greens, greys and browns. Against this backdrop, pale pink stands out in front of you like a sore thumb. Your eyes automatically snap to focus on it. Then, involuntarily and with growing horror, they travel along a bare, muscular arm, over a hairy chest. From there (no) they find themselves drawn downwards (no!) despite your best efforts (noo!). Finally they stop, trapped like a fly in syrup by the sight of a glittering metal cap with furry earflaps held against- held in what I will simply refer to as a highly strategic place.

"Thank Kyne!" the Nord called out. "I've been waiting for hours for someone to pass by, almost lost hope. The name's Hisin Deep-Raed, as you can see I'm in need of a little assistance. Would you maybe have a- lass? Are you all right?"

I'd been mostly functioning on definitely-absolutely-no-doubt-about-it righteous anger since Sosia had woken me up from my collapse, and it had just run out. My legs folded underneath me. I sat down on the ground with a heavy thump.

"This isn't happening," I said blankly.

The Nord sounded concerned. He might look concerned, as well, but I still found my gaze transfixed by his... helmet. "Lass? I swear, all I was going to ask was if you might have a pair of trousers to lend me. And, er. Um. Er." A pause. "Perhaps a potion to cure diseases, if you have one. There was this, er, this witch, you see-"

"This isn't happening. I'm hallucinating. Or dreaming. Yes! Why didn't I figure it out earlier? All of this has been a bad dream. I'm going to wake up any moment now."

"Lass?" The fingers on the helm twitched, as though he was thinking of removing them and then thought better of it. "Are you travelling with anyone? I'm afraid I'm a bit... tied up right now..."

"Adryn? What are you- Oh. Er. Hello."

It seemed the figments of my imagination that were Sosia and Varvur had caught up with me. It also seemed my imagination and I needed to have a long, long talk.

"Ah, travellers! Well met, name's Hisin Deep-Raed - er, I think your companion is in need of some-"

"Good gods, man, what happened to your clothes?"

Of course this was a dream. Why hadn't I figured it out earlier? Who doesn't dream of falling?

"Well, y'see, that's a bit of a long story. It started with this witch..."

And the nudity! Why hadn't I clued in then?

"Is he your doing, Sosia?"

"What? No! I'm not the only female mage in the West Gash, you know."

To be fair, that had been a little atypical as nightmares go. Usually, those dreams involve me being naked - in particular, suddenly realising I was in front of a large crowd of people.

"Well, you're the only one I know with a penchant for stripping."

Me fully clothed but everyone around me naked, that was definitely a new one.

"-your enemies! I meant stripping your enemies!"

"...Nord, if you don't stop looking at me that way I may forget my healer's oaths."

Well, my nightmares had branched out. Apparently the dreams involving abject humiliation had decided to follow suit.

"Oh, you're a healer? Thank Kyne! I'd be forever grateful if you helped me out - you see, the witch gave me this, ah, disease-"

"...well, I suppose it's my duty. I'll need to see the primary afflicted area."

There was a long, pregnant pause.

"Ah. I. Are you sure you can't manage without?"

Up until that point, I'd been blocking out the others like the buzzing of some particularly annoying insects. However, the last snatches of conversation managed to penetrate my wall of denial. My eyes - still fixed on a certain area just beneath Hisin's stomach - widened in horrified realisation, then (finally!) squeezed firmly shut.

The darkness was immensely comforting, and made it so much easier to shut away the sound of the other three's raised voices and focus on mentally gibbering. Really, I thought, it would be so nice to just stay like this until I woke up.

As I was going to do any second.

Any moment now.

I felt the increasingly-familiar rush of an energising spell settle around me, and cracked my eyes open.

Sosia's worried face peered back at me. "Adryn? Are you all right?"

"I'm having a nightmare," I informed her.

"Hmm. Hysterics. Perhaps not entirely surprising. A Calm spell, maybe-"

The suggestion cut through my mental fog like Cloudcleaver being wielded by an angry Nord. I bolted upright. "No! No, I- I'm fine! I'm perfectly fine!"

Sosia eyed me dubiously. With a deep breath and mournful acceptance of the fact that this was actually happening, I got myself under control.

"No, really. It was just a momentary lapse. I'm all better now. See?" I gave her a trembling smile. "You should save your magicka, you never know when you'll need it."

Sosia gave me another long, critical look, then shrugged. "Well, if you're sure..."

I opted to take myself out of the danger zone by wandering over to where Varvur and Hisin were conversing. Hisin's posture was far more relaxed than before. A brief glance told me that his helmet was still (again?) serving as a makeshift codpiece, at which point I forced myself to avert my gaze.

"So." Varvur sounded wary. "You say there was a witch involved. Are you going to ask us to hunt her down for you? To recover a family heirloom, perhaps?"

"What? No, I'm well shot of her. And I've still got my heirloom, 's the only thing she left me, see? Although honestly, I'll gladly trade it to you for a pair of trousers-"

"No! Er, that won't be necessary. I wouldn't... I wouldn't dream of depriving a man of his family heirloom," Varvur said, shifting as though to try and hide the enormous battleaxe he was carrying behind his back. "I'd give you some trousers anyway, but I'm afraid I only have this pair and, er..."

We all duly pondered Varvur's suggestion.

"I don't think that would improve the situation," Sosia said delicately from behind me.

"Well, I wouldn't object if one of the ladies were to lend me their shirt instead," Hisin said with a leer in her direction. He wilted under the combined power of all three of our glares.

Then Varvur brightened. He looked as if he'd had an idea. I wondered whether I should be worried. "Adryn? Are you wearing anything under that robe?"

I started upright, fury rekindled. "Excuse me! What kind of a question is that!"

Varvur's eyes widened, apparently only now realising what that had sounded like. "I didn't mean- I only meant- if you could lend him your robe without, er-"

"You just accused me of being a flasher!"

"No, I only-"

"Look, just because I don't buy into your ridiculous notions of honour doesn't mean you get to assume-"

Varvur looked as if he was about to try apologising again. Then his eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, ridiculous notions of-"

"Two drakes on the lass!"

Apparently our glares weren't as potent without Sosia, as Hisin weathered them undaunted. "What? You're expecting me to bet against a redhead in an argument? Oh - I'm not planning to stiff anyone, promise, I keep some emergency money in my-"

"Don't you all think we should be moving on?" Sosia interrupted hastily. I shot her a look of deep gratitude. I for one had not wanted to hear the end of that sentence.

After some negotiation, poisonous glances shot between Varvur and myself, and careful maneuverings involving my splinted arm which culminated in a disappointed look from Hisin when I proved to everyone that I was, in fact, perfectly decently attired under my robe, Sosia got her wish. Our - well, the addition of Hisin probably qualified it as a party - trudged along towards the farmhouse. This time, I stuck to the rear... although I did hope we'd make it with no further interruptions.

I mean, really. How many naked Nords can one island even hold?



The owner of the farmhouse, it turned out, was also a Nord. He managed to avoid the fate of being naked, however, by means of that marvelous invention known as clothes. He wore long trousers tucked into calf-high boots. A thigh-length tunic over a long-sleeved shirt. Even a kerchief around his neck! The only skin you could see was his hands and face!

Sjorvar - as he introduced himself - was only briefly taken aback by the troop of mostly underdressed people turning up on his doorstep asking for shelter. He also asked remarkably few questions about how we'd gotten there. Of course, given his glance at Hisin (who'd turned my poor, innocent robe into something that bore an unfortunate resemblance to a diaper), maybe he just didn't want to know. I couldn't blame him.

The house was really more of a shack, with only one room. To mine and Sosia's eternal gratitude, Sjorvar rigged some extra blankets into a separate sleeping alcove for the two of us. To everyone's, he lent the men some of his spare clothing. By the time he brought out two fat loaves of bread and a large bowl of a greasy reddish cheeselike substance that he called 'scuttle', I was ready to swear myself into his service. He professed himself flattered but unable to take me up on my offer, did however accept the drakes Sosia pressed into his hand.

After dinner, Sjorvar took out a bottle of something which he called 'sujamma'. The others accepted his offer of a round of drinks happily. I declined on grounds not drinking alcohol (quite frankly, I accidentally poison myself enough in the course of alchemical investigation that I fail to see the appeal of doing so on purpose) and being relatively certain that if I had to spend much more time in Varvur's direct company somebody would end up maimed and chances were it would be me.

Instead, I withdrew to the bundle of blankets we'd decided were going to be mine. I was tired enough to sleep, but the throbbing of my arm and noise of the others would make that difficult... and frankly, the last thing I wanted to do was lie awake with nothing to do but think back on the events of the day. I was quite looking forward to never thinking about certain of those events again. For instance-

Yes, a little bedtime reading for purpose of distraction was definitely called for. Besides, if I was going to lug half a dozen books through the wilderness, I should at least get some benefit from it. I rummaged through my pack...

My fingers closed on the oiled leather wrapped around Chronicles of Nchuleft.

Well, Jobasha had said that I was welcome to read it before I brought it to Edwinna, provided I was careful. I hadn't been planning to take him up on that, but... here in Sjorvar's hut, far away from Vivec, the threat hanging over me seemed very distant and was eclipsed by the lure of a rare book I'd only have access to for a few days.

I settled into my makeshift bed and opened it to the first page.

It happened in Second Planting that Lord Ihlendam, on a journey in the Western Uplands, came to Nchuleft...

Notes: I may have moved Hisin Deep-Raed slightly from his in-game location. I would like you to know that I regret *nothing*.

Also, I think Varvur was infected by the spirit of Dhertee Innu Endo this installment - I swear he came out with those, er, phrases with an unfortunate connotation completely on his own. Adryn is not amused.

Next

Jeez, Kaz, there's so many damn Nords here on Vvardenfell that it may well be part of Skyrim!!

At least the most recent one was decent, in more ways than one

I'm glad Hisin got to keep his family jewels heirloom! Though considering its current usage, I don't blame the others for being reluctant to take it in exchange for some rather more concealing attire. He sort of reminded me of Jerric. Hope springs eternal in those two. Yes, that was a Dhertee Innu Endo!

Now that we have the Three Stooges Nords out of the way, shall Adryn finally get to see what is so cool about that book?

Chapter 8.5:

I had started reading this chapter when it posted, then had a period of no free time and couldn't get back to it. I can't find the notes I started on it! Urk!



BWAAHAA! Loved her little slip there!

Their rocky interactions and misunderstandings make for a great read! Awesome Write!

@haute - in my defense, every single Nord is in the game! In fact, this is not even all the naked Nords there are! Perhaps there's a sneaky invasion plan going on, with naked barbarians as the first agents.

Hisin is indeed very grateful for being able to keep his family jewels heirloom, and I'm glad the reason Varvur and co. were not keen on making that trade was obvious. I hadn't been thinking of Jerric when I wrote him, but there might be some resemblance... maybe Jerric is simply the patron saint of Chorrol's affable yet slightly hapless Nords, lol.

@mALX - no worries, take your time... I'm glad you're enjoying the chapter! The misunderstandings definitely add a certain *something* to it, I think.

Last chapter, there were teleportation mishaps - so many teleportation mishaps - and naked Nords, the last also being sadly, definitely, plural. In the end, Adryn and her newly-found company (including one (1) Redoran noble who Adryn is beginning to wish she'd never accidentally rescued, one (1) thankfully ex-naked Nord and one (1) disturbingly cheerful witch with a propensity for stripping - her enemies, don't look at me like that) took shelter in Sjorvar Horse-Mouth's farmhouse for the night, planning to walk to Ald'ruhn the next day.



The mer's face creased into a smile when he saw me at the door.

"My friend! It's good to see you - come in, come in!"

"You're unusually happy I'm here," I observed as I entered. "Let me guess, Anchard asked you to look over his records again?"

"I should probably be worried you know me so well," he said ruefully. "Then again, perhaps it's that you know Anchard and his minutely detailed reports with five times as many pages as anyone else would deem necessary, hm? I'm sure you remember - the ones he always insists are highly urgent, of vital importance, and too sensitive to be read by anyone other than you?"

"Strangely enough, I don't think I remember anything of the sort." I stripped off my left gauntlet. "Of course, this may be related to the fact that I seem to have blocked five years' worth of Council proceedings from my memory. The five years in which Anchard was responsible for records, in fact. I'm sure it's merely a coincidence."

My friend barked a laugh, pushing aside a stack of parchment covered in horribly, horribly familiar handwriting and rising in order to help me divest myself of the rest of my armour. Once I'd been freed of the final piece, he gave the pile of chitin we'd made a long look.

He frowned. "I don't see a weapon in there. You're not here unarmed, are you? We may not have seen any of Hoaga's raiding parties in the past seven years, but that's no reason to be careless. Besides, there are nix-hound packs about."

"No, no," I replied as I dragged up a chair. "Your new doorman insisted on taking my spear. He seemed to think I might try to stab you." I shrugged. "He also seemed surprised I wasn't ten feet tall and my diet didn't consist primarily of misbehaving Dwemer children. One more shock might have been lethal - I thought I'd better do what he said."

The other mer sighed. "I'll have a word with him. He's from one of the outlying outposts, you know, and the stories there are really getting out of hand. But first!" He reached for a bottle on a shelf. "Sujamma?"

"Dumac-"

"You know," Dumac's voice was airy, "if anyone ever tried to impersonate you with an illusion spell, I could find him out in a heartbeat by offering him alcohol. True, at this point there are undoubtedly a few... actually, numerous... let's be honest, a veritable multitude of people who could repeat your lecture on poisons, long-term effects and your general and total incomprehension of why anyone would willingly blunt their mental capacities word-for-word. But the face you pull, that's unmistakeable. I've never seen anyone reproduce it. I'm not entirely sure it's anatomically possible."

I'd really have liked to defend myself. Honestly. Alas, certain comments of Sul's I might have overheard indicated that in this particular argument, the truth had unfairly thrown its support behind Dumac. It did so quite frequently, in fact - I should take it to task for bias one of these days. However, until Truth and its cousin Facts decided to side with me a prudent retreat was probably in order. In lieu of answering, I busied myself getting two goblets from the sideboard.

"I take it you haven't changed your mind on the matter?" Dumac asked, already reaching for a second bottle. "Comberry juice it is. Pity, though, because if the news I've heard is correct a drink in celebration is called for - or perhaps a drink for the purpose of getting very, very drunk?"

"News?" I asked, before realising there was really only one thing he could be referring to. Still - messages travelled much faster now that we'd finally gotten the propylon chamber at Marandus set up, but I hadn't expected him to have heard already-

"Your upcoming nuptials? You know my assistants will be very disappointed if it turns out that's just rumour. Half of them have already laid bets on how long it will take her to kill you."

"Her to kill me?" I asked, plaintive. "Doesn't it usually go both ways? You'd think being a legendary hero would at least grant me equal probability."

"My friend," Dumac said, leaning forward, "when a legendary hero who is famous for looking for diplomatic solutions, who has been known to say that resorting to violence is the first step on the road to failure, marries Almalexia - Almalexia of the Erabenimsun, Almalexia the war-leader... no. No, it will definitely be her killing you."

"Well, I'm glad to know what I have to look forward to. I'd hate for something like that to be a surprise."

"Forewarned is forearmed - perhaps literally, in this case. I'll have to think of an appropriate wedding gift." Dumac paused, then raised his goblet. "But first, a toast! To Almalexia and -"



My eyes opened to darkness.

Although I was barely awake, the details of the dream were already fleeing my mind. There'd been a... a mer, I couldn't remember of which race. He'd been... pleased to see me. We'd talked about... what had we talked about?

It was no use, like trying to hold smoke - the harder I tried to grasp it, the more it slipped away between my fingers.

However. I'd had a dream. And although the details were gone, the feelings lingered. The mer - I'd been just as pleased to see him. I'd been relaxed, joking, happy. My lips were still curved in a smile.

I'd had a dream that had actually been good. My previous dreams had left me increasingly unsure as to whether that was even possible.

It was early, and without the jolt of waking up from a nightmare I'd be asleep again within minutes. However, before that happened, there was something I needed to tell my subconscious.

"Much better, thank you," I mumbled. "More like it please..."



Next

Oooh, a replay of a past event!

Wonder who the "I' in this installment is? I can guess, though, knowing what little I do know about the MW storyline!

But I'm not sayin' just because you're not sayin'!

Yummmy!

Two chapters! Yay.

I was chuckling over the Naked Nord’s helmet. At least he didn’t have his arms crossed over his chest while it just hung there.

"What? No, I'm well shot of her. And I've still got my heirloom, 's the only thing she left me, see?

Heirloom indeed. Suuure he meant the helmet.

Oh my goodness, emergency money. I may need to be revived after reading this update! A Nord wearing only his cap down south but still hitting on the pretty healer. While he had an embarrassing disease. I was reminded of Jerric, too, in a most delightful way. Outstanding Naked Nordity!

Chapter 9

My friend barked a laugh, pushing aside a stack of parchment covered in horribly, horribly familiar handwriting

That sounds like it might be inspired by real-life experience. Too real for comfort!

The part where the person Adryn was in her dream also declined alcohol was a shiver-inducing touch.

*wanders in sheepishly*

Do I even need to apologise for disappearing anymore, we know the drill by now...

Anyway! I'm not dead, neither is Adryn. In fact, chapter 9 is finished bar some transition issues which I will totally fix before we get there *whistles* and I thought it was about time to start posting again.

Also, I apologise in advance because this next update is really, really long but there was seriously no good breaking point anywhere. Future ones should be shorter!

A quick recap of what has gone before: thanks to a remarkable series of misfortunes including not one but two teleportation mishaps, Adryn found herself stranded in the West Gash wilderness with a broken arm, one ex-naked Nord by the name of Hisin Deep-Raed, one Breton witch responsible for another naked Nord going by Sosia Caristiana, and one kidnapped Redoran noble named Varvur Sarethi who she rather inadvertently rescued. Varvur says he was really fine without, he preferred the cell. At the end of last chapter, they'd found refuge in a farmhouse owned by a thankfully not naked at all Nord (Sjorvar Horse-Mouth) who took pity on our merry band and let them stay the night.

Last installment, Adryn had a dream. An entirely normal dream which was not worrying or ominous in the least. Well, at least Adryn thinks so... noting that, as it so happens, she forgot what it was about immediately after waking up. You're free to make up your own mind on the matter...



"So this is Ald'ruhn? Somehow I was imagining it'd be more impressive."

This was, of course, an abject lie. I remembered how I'd thought the rounded buildings of Balmora looked organic when I first entered the city... oh, how ignorant I'd been. Architectural style aside, Balmorans used perfectly conventional building materials such as stone or wattle and daub. This was something I now realised showed a distinct lack of imagination in comparison to the people of Ald'ruhn, who'd apparently decided lack of wood meant they should make their buildings out of the discarded shells of some sort of crustaceans I guessed were some long-extinct ancestor of the silt strider. At least I hoped they were long-extinct, because it was obvious the species had shrunk quite a bit in the intervening years. The smallest shell I saw was the size of a small house (an easy comparison, since it happened to be one), the largest a jaw-dropping monstrosity that was probably as wide as one of the cantons of Vivec. The idea of stumbling across one of those in the wild... Suffice it to say that from a certain perspective, kagouti bore a remarkable resemblance to fluffy baby bunnies.

Overall, it meant that from a distance Ald'ruhn looked far more like some ancient graveyard of monsters in the middle of the ash wastes than a city, and I'd been hard-put not to goggle as we drew nearer and the scale of everything became more obvious. However, admitting I was impressed would make Varvur smug, and that was the last thing I wanted to do. The look on his face right now was ample revenge for his dig earlier about the habits of thieves - a dig he might claim had been entirely justified by my request earlier as to whether I might be able to take some samples of the lichen growing where his brain should be to see if it had any interesting alchemical properties, but that was a perfidious lie. After all, I had been solely defending myself after his malicious comment about-

It had been a long morning.

Quite frankly, the only part of said morning I thought worth remembering was the healing spell Sosia had taught me for my arm. (She'd called it "amply paid for in entertainment". I was certain I had no idea what she could possibly mean.)

Varvur shot me a glare and marched towards the gate. Apparently I wasn't the only one who'd rather forget the last five hours or so - and unlike me, Varvur hadn't even learned a new spell during the course of it. I fought the urge to inform him of this, possibly while sticking my tongue out at his back and going 'nyah nyah'. No, I told myself, I should be dignified and mature. Prove that I was the better mer here. Besides, in just a few minutes I'd never have to see Varvur again - surely I could manage that long.

Wait. Something was wrong.

The guards at the gate had stopped Varvur and taken him aside. Now the three of them seemed to be having an agitated discussion in Dunmeris, complete with animated gesturing on the part of the guards. Varvur, on the other hand, was shrinking in on himself, arms coming up to wrap around his chest as though to ward something off.

I looked at my companions to see whether either of them understood what was going on. Hisin looked about as confused as I felt, but Sosia was frowning.

Finally, Varvur broke away from the guards and made his way back to us, shoulders slumped.

"It's fine. You can go in," he said quietly, not meeting our eyes. He sounded defeated.

"Wait, what about you?" I was certain I'd heard the slighest of stresses on that 'you'.

"More to the point, what was that about you being a murderer?" Sosia's voice was as cold as Midwinter in the Pale. I looked at her askance - she'd been nothing but friendly and upbeat ever since we'd met. The scowl on her face now looked out of place enough I briefly pondered the possibility of impostors (if it can happen to the Emperor...).

Then what she'd said sunk in.

"Murderer?" I stared at Varvur with new eyes. Next to me, Hisin let out a growl.

"I'm not! I swear! It's..." Varvur sighed. "All right. I'll explain. Just," he glanced around. "Not here, all right? It's a long story."

We moved away from the gate until we were behind one of the towers, out of sight of the guards. Varvur leaned against the wall, looking hunted, while Sosia scowled at him with Hisin looming at her shoulder.

"So, wait," I was still trying to process this. "That cell I broke you out of-"

"Cell?"

I ignored Hisin. "You weren't a kidnapping victim at all, were you?"

"No, I was. Sorry, this gets complicated." Varvur ran a hand through his hair. "When I came- under suspicion, the Archmaster's guards grabbed me. For 'security', he called it. But it was obvious I was meant to be a hostage. My father is... an enemy, I guess you could say, of his. If he had me locked away, he could use me to force my father to stop opposing him in Council, introduce the legislation he wants, do his dirty work for him - all kinds of things, really. By dressing it up as guarding a dangerous murder suspect, he'd stay within the law so none of the guards would lift a finger... and with his political clout, it'd be easy to get a trial delayed indefinitely."

Varvur's shoulders slumped. "Nilos and Volene at the gate, they told me that they had orders to apprehend me and bring me back to Venim," he said quietly. "They're friends of mine and can see this isn't right, so they said they'd let me leave - but if I tried to enter the city they'd have no choice."

"That's all well and good," Sosia said. If Varvur's tale had softened her towards him at all, she didn't show it. "However, I have to admit I'm more interested in the murder suspect part of that story."

"They claim I- I murdered Bralen Carvaren. I wouldn't, I swear!" Varvur added hastily. "Bralen, he's my -" He swallowed. "Was my best friend. Our mothers are friends, we've- we knew each other from the cradle. We were going to join the forces at Marandus together in a few months-" He stopped and turned his head away, but not before I saw the glimmer of tears in his eyes. He was either really upset or a very good actor.

Again, Sosia didn't seem moved by his distress. "What is it you're not telling us?"

Varvur looked taken aback by the question. What he didn't look was confused.

All right, maybe he was a very good actor.

"A few days before Bralen d-" Varvur's voice grew unsteady and he broke off for a moment. "Before he- before, I'd started having these... blackouts. I'd lose track of time, I'd suddenly be somewhere and I couldn't remember where I'd got there or what I'd been doing. When they didn't stop... I was going to go to the Temple for help. But then... then Bralen... and I, I wouldn't have killed him, I'd never have killed him! But," Varvur's voice fell to a whisper, "I can't remember what I was doing when he was..."

I gulped. That story was just a little too-

No, Adryn, wait and see what Sosia says. It was still possible Varvur was a very, very good actor, and she'd been much better at spotting dissembling than me so far.

Sosia sighed, the cold look fleeing her face to be replaced by weariness. "All right. I believe you."

"What, you do?" That was Hisin. "That story is so full of holes-"

Sosia's smile was dry and humourless. "I help out at the Temple, did I mention? And something we've been seeing more and more lately is something we've been calling the 'soul sickness'."

Wait, wasn't that...

"The strange dreams?" I asked. Varvur jerked as if someone had struck him.

Sosia shot me a surprised look. "Yes, that's how it starts off. Sometimes, it develops further into black-outs exactly like Varvur described. Witnesses to these often report the people affected acting strangely and doing things that are out of character. This would be the first case of outright murder I've heard of, but-"

No.

"Wait." You could see the blood drain from Varvur's face. "You mean I actually-"

No.

"You shouldn't blame yourself," Sosia advised kindly. "From what we've been able to tell, the effect is much like a Command spell."

Much like a Command spell-

The first thing I notice is a sharp metallic taste in my mouth, so intense it almost makes me retch. It seems to take forever until I recognise it as blood.

The sticky warmth I feel soaking into my shirt must be more blood, as well as the patches staining my trousers. Blood coats my fingers, blood drips from the dagger I'm clutching-

Dagger? Where did that come from?

Forget the dagger, where did all this blood come from? What's going on?

What happened?

I think ba-

I can feel something terrible hidden in my memory of the last few hours, lurking in this room to ambush me, like a kraken laying in wait beneath the smooth surface of the sea. If I just stay right here and don't move, don't look, don't remember, I'll be safe. If I do anything else it'll get me, and if it does-

Don't think. Stand still. And, may any god that would take you have mercy - don't look.

Shouts, coming from outside. Someone pounding on the door. Glancing over is reflex, beyond the realm of conscious decision.

Halfway to the door, my eyes stop, transfixed. I-

I see-

Lying on the floor-

No!

Wrenching myself away from the past was difficult. It didn't want to let me go, clung to me with iron force and tried to drag me down. But I persevered, beating the memories back down again and again with grim determination until they finally stopped trying to claw their way into my mind.

When everything was safely pent up for the moment, I looked around to see what had been going on while I was - distracted.

The other three seemed not to have noticed anything amiss. Good. I had absolutely no intentions of explaining.

"Sorry there's not more I can do, lad," Hisin was saying. He sounded glum. "I won't mention you to the guards, promise."

"I'll ask at the Temple if there's anything we can do to help," Sosia said. "And- if you want me to get a message to your father?"

For a moment, Varvur's face lit up with hope. Then it faded again. "It's... it's probably best for me to avoid contacting him. I expect the Archmaster's spies are going to be watching him - knowing him, he'd take any message as proof that Father is aiding and abetting a fugitive. I couldn't bear it if I got him into trouble."

"What are you going to do now?"

"I-" It was clear from Varvur's expression that he had no idea.

"You could come to Balmora with me." I really hoped the way my voice shook wasn't as obvious to everyone else as it was to me. "I. I have this sudden, strange desire to walk there, you see."

Three pairs of eyes goggled at me.

"I mean," I ploughed on, "I don't think anyone's going to be looking for you there. Especially if this Venim really thinks I'm a Telvanni, or whatever that was. And I've got... some friends." Well, I had Ajira, but I figured she was worth several. "I'm sure we can figure out some way to prove that you were-" I swallowed hard. "Were, um. Controlled."

My audience looked as if they'd been hit by a paralysis spell. I was just wondering whether I'd somehow used my birthsign ability on them without noticing I was doing it or (for that matter) falling unconscious when Sosia moved... sadly, in a direction I could have done without.

I tried to dodge her, but Sosia managed to catch me in a hug despite my best efforts. "Why, Adryn!" She sounded delighted. "Such a generous offer to make, I knew you had it in you!"

Wait, was she accusing me of - I flinched at the word - altruism?

"No, I-"

Both my protest and my struggle to escape went unheeded, Sosia's arms tightening around me as she went on.

"I do commend you! Such selflessness and compassion - you might think about becoming a healer one day! I'm sure you and Varvur will do very well if you keep those things in mind."

"You've misun-" I tried to yank out of her hold.

Was this a Breton or a clinging octopus? It was getting hard to tell.

"Now, remember the spell I taught you. Like I told you, you can leave your arm out of the sling if you're careful but you absolutely must cast it morning and evening for at least two days, don't forget. But I really must be off - Varvur-"

Then I was released as the whirlwind that was Sosia accosted Varvur. I backed away, taking some amount of pleasure in the horrified expression on his face.

"Lass!"

I glared at Hisin. (Two syllables!)

Again, he was sadly undaunted. "A bit of advice as a farewell. Now, I know you're a redhead and all and these things are a mite tricky for you. All the same, maybe you'll get something useful out of the way Hisin here keeps his temper, hmm?"

I raised an eyebrow at the insinuation that I had a temper problem, something I felt was obviously untrue. Well, I supposed I could humour the delusional man for a little. "Oh?"

"See, anytime when I think I'm going to say something..." he coughed, "something that's maybe not entirely diplomatic, heat of the moment and all, I make myself count to ten in Aldmeris first."

I blinked. "But I don't know any Aldmeris."

"Excellent! Neither do I. That's why it works, see?" Hisin clapped me on the shoulder. By the time I recovered my balance enough to retaliate, he'd already retreated out of range.

And then they were gone.

There was a long moment of silence in which Varvur looked at me dubiously.

"Look, if you're counting on the bounty for turning me in-" he started.

Wait. This was his response to my very generous offer to help him out, purely out of the goodness of my heart?

I took several steps forward until I was standing right in front of him, wishing for once in my life that I was taller. Don't get me wrong, being on the short side has all sorts of advantages - ranging from far greater blanket coverage on cold nights to a much reduced chance of concussions from low doorframes. However, right now I couldn't help but think I'd be more intimidating if I came up higher than Varvur's chin.

I planted my hand on my hip, partially to help the intimidation factor but mostly to make sure it wouldn't end up in his face. I like to think that I'm not a violent person, but not slapping him was taking a lot of my willpower. "Tell me. When we were young, did I kick your dog? Break your favourite toy? Kidnap your teddy bear and hold it for ransom? All of these seem a little unlikely given that I grew up on the other side of Tamriel, but maybe I had some sort of freak teleportation accident in my sleep. I certainly don't know how else to explain why you're acting like this!"

"But..." Varvur seemed puzzled. "You laugh at the notion of honour, so if you're not hoping for a reward, then why... or is it that you're hoping for one from my father?"

Forget lichen, was there anything in his head? If I looked into his ear, would I see sunlight? "For your information," I said, biting off each word, "I just-"

The taste of blood in my mouth-

I licked my lips and tried again. "I think-"

Don't look-

"Nobody should ever be forced to kill their best friends." Each word felt as if it had actual weight when it fell from my lips, and when I'd finished speaking I felt dizzy and strangely adrift.

Don't remember-

Yes. Not remembering was definitely the way to go here.

"I'm sorry."

"Huh?" I stared at Varvur. I'd been a little- absorbed in my thoughts, so surely I hadn't heard that right. Had he just-

"I'm sorry," he repeated. Yes, he'd apologised. I cast a quick glance skywards to check for airborne farm animals.

"I- misjudged you, I think." Varvur seemed to find his shoes suddenly fascinating. "It- in my defense, it hasn't been the best few days, and the way we- Anyway. I... may have jumped to conclusions."

Well, there were no flying pigs in evidence, although I'd be interested to know the current temperature in the Deadlands. "Apology accepted," I said, then paused. Well, I could afford to be gracious. "I might not have been the most - um. Congenial person, either. Sorry about that."

"Yes, you really-" Varvur coughed. "I mean, right. Apology, um, accepted."

I could almost get used to Varvur like this. Besides, if I was really going to help him out it'd be best if we weren't at each other's throats constantly.

"Truce?" I asked, holding out my hand.

Varvur took it. "Truce," he agreed.

(It lasted ten minutes.)

*****

Notes: I continue doling out Adryn's backstory in bits and pieces. That said, this should make clear why she's so reluctant to think about it.

...

Next

It is so good to see Sleeper in the Cave on top again! Since you haven't been here in a while may not know - I can't read much more than a short paragraph since my stroke; really missing all my favorite stories and can't write mine anymore; or even edit the chapters I had previously written. But I def wanted to stop in and welcome you back!

Oh no! I had no idea, I'm so sorry. Thank you for the welcome back, in any case! Adryn and I really appreciate it.

Yeah, a year ago at this time I was barely alive. Not being able to read or write anymore was devastating; but it is kind of a miracle I even made it through this; so it is something I've learned to live with (or without in this case).

How wonderful to see Girl Lass Adryn back in fine fettle! She has lost none of her humor since the last time I read this delightful story!

Well, I had Ajira, but I figured she was worth several.

Awww.

Yikes, this bit of backstory was alarming. I loved this update, and I am so pleased to read more of Adryn’s story!

@haute ecole rider - Thank you! Adryn's humour is really what makes this story, so I'm glad you're finding it still at full strength.

@Grits - yes, there's a reason Adryn tries not to think about her past. I try to make up for those parts of it with Adryn and Ajira being cute.

Last installment, Adryn and co. reached Ald'ruhn, only to find that Varvur wasn't allowed to enter the city. It seemed that Varvur's tale of being accused of the murder of his best friend, and in fact likely magically compelled into it, was tragically familiar to Adryn and so she volunteered to help him out. Last we saw of the two, they were on the road to Balmora.



The caravan master studied both of us critically.

"Travellers, you say? To Balmora? Hm. Hmm." He rubbed one of his tusks.

"We'd really appreciate it if we could travel with you that far." I smiled to underscore our image of harmless wanderers.

The whole thing was Varvur's fault.

First, he'd nixed my suggestion of heading to Caldera and taking the guild guide from there, explaining that it was more likely guards in an Imperial town were on the look-out for him than Hlaalu ones. Since he was a noble who'd lapped up politics with his mother's milk (in the fleeting moments of spare time he had when he wasn't busy being dropped on his head, no doubt) and I'd been in Morrowind for all of a week, I'd given way to his greater experience on the subject. Grudgingly.

Then he'd suggested banding together with any other travellers we found. I'd argued that this was not precisely a clever way for a wanted fugitive to behave. I'd been quite proud of that argument, thank you. It had been painstakingly assembled, custom-made for exactly this situation and no other, every word of it crafted with care. Alas, it had met utter, merciless defeat at the hands of Varvur's counter-argument - which, to add insult to injury, was crude, hastily thrown together with no craftsmanship or artistic feeling at all. It consisted of only two words: the wildlife.

Frankly, I could have done without the demonstration. We'd spent what felt like hours hiding in the mouth of a cave waiting for the reptilian flying things that seemed to consist entirely of sharp beak and ear-piercing screech to give up and leave. Varvur had called them 'cliff racers', a name I quite understood seeing as I'd rather race off a cliff than face them again. Varvur had also explained that they were usually harmless scavengers (I found this statement rather hard to believe), but sometimes banded together in flocks to take down live prey if times were lean. Apparently they weren't particularly discerning when it came to the size of said prey.

At any rate, the whole thing meant that when we crested a saddle between two hills to see a train of wagons drawn by funny-looking two-legged reptiles Varvur called 'guar', I only put up token resistance when Varvur insisted on going down to see if they'd let us tag along.

"I'm... Tadril Saren," Varvur was saying now.

I tried not to react with obvious surprise and mentally vowed that the next chance I got, I would have a long discussion with Varvur about letting your compatriots in on your false name ahead of time. "Adryn," I offered.

The caravan master gave us a skeptical look. I hoped it was just the usual 'what, a Dunmer without a family name?' look instead of having noticed something off about 'Tadril''s introduction. "Greetings," he finally offered. "Shazgob gro-Luzgan. Out of Ebonheart."

"Well met," I responded. Gro-Luzgan didn't respond, but his expression made me suspect he wasn't ready to commit to the well part of that just yet. "Would you be willing to take us on? We can work to help the caravan." I probably also had enough money to buy passage, but would rather keep that as a last resort - I was getting quite worried about my lack of income. "I can-"

I was about to say something like 'lift boxes... small ones', except that Varvur decided this was the perfect time for a little revenge.

"Oh," he interrupted, "she's quite the mage. You wouldn't believe what she can do with a Mysticism spell."

His innocent expression was ruined by the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. I bit the inside of my cheek and considered my options for retribution.

"Well," I said, keeping my tone sweet, "he'll tell you himself he's capable of taking down a rampaging barbarian, unarmed. And that axe there is a family heirloom." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Varvur shoot me a glare. I ignored it.

Gro-Luzgan was not looking much more confident in us, but we must have convinced him of something because he gave a nod. "All right. If that's so, you can come along. Now. I don't know or care about whatever it is you might be running from," I tried not to cringe too obviously, "but if you cause any trouble for anyone here, you're out. And just so you know..."

His voice grew cold. "If you're here thinking you can lure us into an ambush... I'd think again, I really would. We've tangled with bandits before. Since I'm the one standing here I think you can guess who won."

"I'd never!" Varvur protested, shocked. "Such a dishonourable betrayal would be unworthy of-"

I stepped on his foot. I suspected the end of that sentence ran along the lines of a true son of House Redoran, which would draw exactly the attention we were trying to avoid. "What he means is, we're honest folk," I said. My fixed smile was starting to make my cheeks hurt. "Wouldn't dream of betraying you like that."

Gro-Luzgan eyed us dubiously. "I guess we'll see about that. Now, our schedule has us in Balmora tomorrow evening. We'll be camping near Caldera tonight. I can lend you a bedroll and a tent if you'd like to share-"

Wait, did he think we-

Varvur and I stared at each other. Judging by the abject horror in his gaze, we were in perfect agreement for the first time since we'd met.

"No!"

"...right." Gro-Luzgan's eyebrows seemed to be making a bid for freedom. "In that case, I can lend you two bedrolls, and the lady can bunk down with Gelduin - one of our scouts. If you're so slick with Mysticism," I heaped a thousand curses on Varvur, "you can help her out during the day. We could use someone who knows their way around a detection spell, can keep an eye out for cliff racer flocks, nix-hound packs, kagouti in heat - the usual. And bandits, of course." The glance he gave us made me think he wasn't quite convinced we weren't part of that last group.

My knees grew weak with relief. I happened to be quite proud of my detection spells, thank you. "I can do that," I told him, and ignored Varvur's dubious glance with the grace and aplomb of someone perfectly secure in her skills, thank you very much.

"We'll see," was gro-Luzgan's only comment. "Gelduin's over there," he nodded in the direction of a leather-clad Bosmer sitting on the back of a wagon inspecting arrows. "Go tell her I sent you, she'll put you to work."

As I left, I heard him mutter, "I guess if worst comes to worst, they can provide for evening entertainment."



Next

The whole thing was Varvur's fault.

Of course! Fun to see Adryn and Varvur taking shots at each other. I’m interested to meet Gelduin. It sounds as if Adryn will have a variety of critters to watch out for on the way to Balmora.

@Grits - In an odd way, Varvur and Adryn's complete and utter inability to get along even in the most ludicrous situations may have made gro-Luzgan trust them more! They were pretty suspicious, but it's hard to suspect two people who are continually undermining each other of any sort of cunning, well-thought-out plan. And yep, Adryn vs Morrowind wildlife round 2, oh dear...

Last installment, Varvur and Adryn joined a caravan they ran across on their trek to Balmora. The caravan master was rather bemused by both their appearance and their tendency to continually snipe at one another. They volunteered to work to pay their passage, and Adryn was asked to go scouting with her Detection spells with a Bosmer called Gelduin. Let's see how that goes...



Gelduin was decidedly unimpressed to be saddled with me if her grumbling about 'rank amateurs' was anything to go by. Other bits of grumbling made me suspect that this little excursion was less about how to best utilise my magical abilities and more about keeping me firmly under the nose of someone gro-Luzgan trusted. I wasn't offended - I'd probably have been careful in his position, too.

She did thaw visibly when I demonstrated that I did, in fact, know how to move silently and take cover, even if I wasn't used to doing so in wilderness. It reached the point where she didn't even yell at me after having to yank me away to prevent me from standing upwind from a kagouti.

"Sorry," I apologised after Gelduin used her native Bosmer magic to lure it away. "I'm not used to trying to avoid animals that can pick up on your scent."

Gelduin looked at me for a moment, then nodded, as though I'd just confirmed a suspicion of hers. "I see. My guess is you do a bit more avoiding animals that are clad in armour and call themselves 'guards'?"

"Um-" I kicked myself for being obvious.

"No worries," Gelduin said. "I've done a bit of that myself, back in the day. Left it all behind when I came to Vvardenfell, oh... is it already thirty years ago? Enough opportunities to earn my money in other ways here. But I grew up in Imperial City, the Waterfront. Only a few ways of making your living there, and I never did care for lying on my back and letting men paw at me."

I relaxed. Not only was she not outraged by my criminal past, but it sounded as if she was unlikely to have any current Guild contacts.

"That sounds familiar," I said. "I'm not from Imperial City, but I had... similar experiences. I joined the Mages' Guild in Balmora, never seemed to be an option before."

"Not a bad choice, I suppose - if you like guilds. I'm more of a loner myself, work as a scout and hunter. I actually spend most of my time in the east, sometimes around Azura's Coast but mostly in the Grazelands. Now that's the region to be!" Gelduin's eyes lit up. "Rolling hills of wickwheat shining gold in the sun, no settlements as far as the eye can see, Red Mountain towering over it all in the distance... I've never seen the famed forests of Valenwood, but I can't imagine how they'd compare. You do have to mind the Daedra, but that just makes it a interesting challenge."

"Mind the Daedra?" I squeaked.

Gelduin shrugged, as if she didn't see anything wrong with the sentence she'd just uttered. "You run into one wandering there on occasion. Mostly scamps and the occasional Ogrim, but one time I saw a Golden Saint. Ended up hiding in an ancestral tomb until I was sure it had gone, because I'd much rather tangle with any number of ghosts and skeletons than one of those. Er, no offense intended," she added hastily.

I wondered what exactly she'd thought I'd take offense at. Did I look like a Golden Saint? Well, perhaps a little irrationality was to be expected from someone who thought dodging one was an 'interesting challenge'.

"I think I'll stick to the west coast," I commented. "That sounds like the kind of excitement I'd rather avoid."

Gelduin frowned at me.

"See, that's what you think," she said. "But you know what's on the west coast? Daedric ruins. There are a few in the east, but the terrain's flat enough that you can see 'em and avoid 'em. The west coast is infested with the things - and then the West Gash is so hilly, and the Bitter Coast has all those trees blocking clear view and the swamps mean buildings sink - you're wandering around thinking a kagouti's the most dangerous thing you can run into and next thing you know you're standing at the entrance to a shrine and have two Dremora, a clannfear and a fireball bearing on you." Gelduin rubbed her side, apparently remembering some old injury. "Give me the Grazelands any day. At least there you see them coming, and you'd have to be really unlucky to face more than one at a time."

"All right, I amend my previous statement," I announced. "I'm sticking to cities. You know, those mysterious places where you run into no rampaging Daedra at all."

I realised that I'd just left the perfect opening for her to ask what, exactly, I was doing in the middle of the wilderness in that case, and cast about hurriedly for a change of subject. "Why do you have Daedra roaming the Grazelands, anyway?" I'd heard of land-owners being tolerant of tenants of all races and backgrounds before, but allowing colonists from Oblivion seemed to be taking that a little too far to me.

Gelduin shrugged. "No one really knows, but the usual story is that it's some Telvanni experiment gone horribly wrong. Seems pretty likely - it definitely wouldn't be the strangest thing I've seen come out of one of those."

"...I see," I said. Varvur had been unable to quantify Telvanni beyond mages, east coast and the extremely helpful 'they're... they're Telvanni', but this was more informative.

Apparently Telvanni were those sorts of mages, the reason the Mages' Guild has strict rules every guild member is to follow hanging at every guild hall. I'd spent some time reading through them Fredas evening, and they were quite frankly enough to make you despair. It began with

1. All experimental spells are to be first tested on inanimate objects, then on summons or animals. Tests on people are only to proceed once these two have been successful. This includes self-tests!

The next few rules appeared to have been added to cover loopholes:

2. No spells are to be cast on others without informing them of the details and risks involved and getting their permission (in that order).

3. Creatures used for testing must be either owned/summoned by the mage in question or used with the owner/summoner's informed permission (see 2.)

My favourite example had been

10. Destruction spells are only to be practiced in the designated practice chamber on the dummies provided. In particular, under no circumstances should you use any of the following as a practice target: customers, fellow guild members, summoned Daedra, any potentially explosive material including but not limited to all potions, load-bearing pillars.'

Trying to imagine what had prompted some of those details had left me boggling.

"Speaking of mages," Gelduin said, "You said you know some detection spells? If so, it'd be useful if you could keep watch for creatures. Atronach-born," she added as if to forestall any questions. "I can't throw my magicka around willy-nilly like you people."

I'd have liked to dispute 'willy-nilly', since it wasn't like I could just burn magicka in the way of an Altmer or even a Mage-born. Then again, it was probably true that I could afford to be more cavalier with it than someone who had to either drink potions or fling themselves in the way of hostile spells, praying all the while, to recover their reserves. I couldn't even imagine what that must be like, but even trying made me shudder - I'd take the Lover over that any day. In any case, a detection spell wasn't much of a drain.

I closed my eyes and stretched out with my awareness. When I'd reached a good range, I began the process of 'tuning' it. This always felt a little like sinking into some pool, trying to find the right depth to sense whatever I was searching for.

A beacon like a lighthouse to the north, more various distances away to the south and southeast - the teleportation points for the Temples, was my guess. Definitely not what I was looking for. Deeper.

A blaze of power on my chest, two more from Gelduin's bow and left hand along with pinpricks from her quiver, an impression of more in the distance which must be the caravan - all of them humming with magicka. Nothing else. Well, it was a relief to know we didn't have bandits with enchanted weapons hiding in ambush, but still not right. Deeper.

There!

Like surfacing from the depths into a starry night, I felt the whole world awash in life. Grass grew towards the sun, bushes stretched their roots into the earth, sap moved through the veins of gnarled trees. Beneath my feet earthworms dug tiny tunnels through the soil, just ahead a bee flew from flower to flower, three feet behind me a line of ants trundled back to their nest bearing scraps of leaves. Against this backdrop, Gelduin and I stood out like torches, the caravan a distant bonfire. And there- up ahead-

I opened my eyes, still holding the spell. That was always a strange sensation, integrating the information from both magical impressions and ordinary sight - like double vision without actually seeing anything differently. I blinked and shook my head a few times until I was used to it.

"There's something over there," I said, pointing. "Around, oh, two hundred feet away, behind the top of that hill. Not a person, an animal of some sort - I'm not sure what kind. But..."

I frowned. That was odd.

"It feels... strange."

The life force I sensed was pulsating strangely. It also felt oddly... obscured, the bright flame of life half-hidden by a strange shadow hanging around it like a dark haze. I'd never sensed anything like it before, but I thought the closest I'd come was a tree being slowly strangled by mistletoe.

Also, focusing on whatever it was was making me feel sick to my stomach. That was definitely a first.

"I think there's something wrong with it," I decided.

"Something wrong with it?" Gelduin repeated, puzzled. "How do you... well, I suppose it doesn't matter. Let's go have a look."

She vanished into the bushes. With a sigh, I followed her.

I relaxed and let the spell go when the creature came into view. It was one of the two-legged reptilian creatures I'd first seen pulling the caravan earlier. Gelduin had said they were guar, herbivores that were commonly domesticated as work animals as well as for their hide and meat. Numerous wild ones roamed Vvardenfell, and although they'd attack if they felt they needed to defend their herd they much preferred fleeing to fighting. We'd driven off a few earlier, undoubtedly Gelduin would do the same here-

There was a loud twang.

The arrow flew straight, slamming into the beast's left eye with the light and crackle of released magicka. The guar thrashed and let out a horrible high-pitched squeal that had me wincing and covering my ears. It was cut short by the second arrow lodging in its throat. The guar reared up one last time, then collapsed with a gurgle.

I gulped. That noise- "Why did you kill it?"

Gelduin moved ahead carefully, a third arrow nocked. She stopped when she was still a good distance away from the beast. "Look," she said.

I moved forward to join her. For a moment, I didn't understand what she meant, then I saw it.

Unlike the other guar we'd seen, the skin of this one was an unhealthy-looking grey. The colour wasn't as obvious from a distance, however, because the skin was covered in weeping pustules and blisters - had even flaked off entirely in places. The exposed patches looked red and inflamed, and a few of them oozed yellow pus. There was pink foam around the corner of its mouth, reminding me of a rabid bear I'd had the misfortune to see once. A sickly sweet rotting smell filled the air.

I think there's something wrong with it, I'd said. I'd had no idea how right I was.

I swallowed back bile. "That's... what happened to it?"

Gelduin gave me an odd look. "You must be very new to Vvardenfell indeed. That's the Blight."

"Blight?" I repeated.

"It's a new kind of disease, only started showing up in the last five years or so. Affects animals and people, and it's terrible, absolutely terrible. Animals always become very aggressive, basically rabid... and surprisingly tenacious. I've seen a rat with Black-Heart still attacking with its spine almost severed and guts spilling out - if I hadn't used enchanted arrows, we might have had a fight on our hands with this one." She nodded at the dead guar.

"People... well." Gelduin shrugged. "The exact symptoms vary depending on which type it is, but they're always nasty. Worse, it's infectious and the usual Restoration magic for treating diseases doesn't work on it at all. When it first started showing up, people were worried we'd have another Thrassian plague on our hands. Honestly, I'm not entirely convinced yet we don't."

"You're serious." I stepped back, staring at the beast with entirely new eyes.

"Dead serious. Yakin Bael, the priest at the Temple in Vos - when the outbreaks started, he worked night and day to try to get them under control. In the end he finally managed to develop spells that work on the Blight - better for some varieties than others, mind you. But he hasn't managed to find a cure yet, and..." she lowered her voice. "I heard, recently he was asking Divayth Fyr for help. Because he thought it might be related to corprus."

Judging by the significant look Gelduin shot me, that was supposed to mean something to me, and most likely said something was bad. But before I could decide whether I really wanted to know what 'corprus' was, she went on.

"So now if you catch a Blight disease... if you're lucky, it'll be no worse than greenspore or rockjoint."

If you're lucky? I'd had rockjoint a few years ago and hadn't managed to reach a healer before it set in. The resulting two weeks of lying in bed with all my joints in agony, needing to be fed because I couldn't hold even a spoon with my fingers so swollen, were prominent on my list of experiences never to be repeated.

"If you're not, well... you might still survive." Gelduin shrugged, as if to say that all bets were off. I took a step back. "So when you run across a blighted animal," she jerked her head towards the guar, "best thing you can really do is put it out of its misery from a safe distance and then burn the body. Speaking of, I don't suppose you know a fire spell?"

"Only a touch-based one," I said. "But if I understand you correctly, I really don't want to get that close to it."

Gelduin shook her head. "No. You really, really don't. Oh well, time for me to sacrifice some of my magicka for a good cause."

When we left the clearing, the dead guar was a bonfire spewing oily smoke. I covered my mouth against the stench of burning, diseased flesh as I mulled over what I'd learned. It could really be boiled down to the following:

As soon as I got back to Balmora, I was never voluntarily setting foot outside of a city again for as long as I lived.

"I don't suppose you can teach me that Detection spell?" Gelduin said abruptly.

I shot her a look. "I thought you couldn't, what was it again... throw your magicka about willy-nilly?"

"I can't," Gelduin agreed, apparently unfazed by my throwing her words back into her face. "But - look, kid." I bristled. She didn't pay me any mind. "You just sensed that guar was blighted with your spell. I've never seen anyone do that before. The closest would be the diagnosis spells some healers use, and they actually have to be touching you for those to work. What you did- believe me, I could use a trick like that. And I'm not the only one."

Now that was strange. It wasn't as if I'd developed the spell myself, or even really tried to refine it. I'd taught it to myself from one of the standard Mysticism textbooks. It had taken me weeks to get it down, and when it finally clicked I was so happy to have managed to learn it I didn't try to get creative. Surely it was just the bog-standard variety that everyone used?

Of course, maybe everyone else was just really incompetent. I've learned through long, hard experience never to underestimate the likelihood of this.

"Tell you what," Gelduin offered, apparently thinking my silence meant refusal, "if you teach me how to do that, I'll teach you some things about moving unseen in the wilderness and how it's different from the city, and I'll also hook you up with some people who would pay good drakes for that trick of yours."

All right. That was an offer I wasn't going to turn down.



Next

Notes: I'm still working out the exact details of this (particularly since I haven't 100% decided on what Cure (Common/Blight) Disease does in practice), but I don't think Cure Blight spells/potions/scrolls/etc. exist in Adryn's world - at least not yet.

It makes perfect sense to me that Adryn would detect a difference in the life-force of a Blighted creature versus the life-force of any other kind. Though I've never made it past the first three hours of Morrowind play (and thus got far enough in the MQ to get sucked in), I understand from the various fan-fics I've read that Corprus is a positively (?) serious condition that stands out from the other run-of-the-mill disease (sort of how Ebola compares to the common cold). It seems to have its origin in something from outside Nirn, so . . .

First I loved the bickering between Adryn and Varvur Tadril Saren and the way the caravan master handled that. Then I loved Adryn and Gelduin getting to know each other through work. Fun!

@haute ecole rider - Corprus plays a big role in the Morrowind MQ, and one of the explanations you're given (by Divayth Fyr, who is the in-universe expert on it) is that it's less a disease and more a divine blessing gone terribly wrong. I find this idea fascinating, and it fits in really well with my general conception of Dagoth Ur. So here both corprus and the Blight (which I do view as related, if not nearly as nasty) are very distinct from regular illnesses and have a dramatic "mystic" effect on the people afflicted. That gets reflected in Adryn's version of Detect Life (now with extra status information!)

I feel as if I can't even take any credit for Adryn and Varvur Tadril bickering, I just have to put them in the same room and it writes itself. Gelduin, now, snuck her way into the story - I really hadn't been planning on her at all until she showed up! I think it might be the influence of all the excellent Bosmer archers there are here on Chorrol. In any case, I think Adryn appreciates someone other than Varvur to talk to.

Last installment, Adryn went scouting with a Bosmer named Gelduin. During this, she discovered a Blighted guar with her detection spell and was told about the Blight (a dangerous new illness spreading across Vvardenfell) as a consequence. Finally, Gelduin asked Adryn to teach her the detection spell she'd used - apparently being able to sense that a creature is Blighted is an unusual ability. Adryn finds this confusing.



Sadly for both my sneaking skills and my purse, it didn't pan out. Apparently my teaching ability went past 'bad' and left 'terrible' in the dust to become some indescribable monstrosity the likes of which the world had never seen before, because the more I attempted to explain exactly what I did to cast my spell the more Gelduin just stared at me as though I were speaking Aldmeris. By the time afternoon had given way to evening, her expression indicated I'd managed to go from Aldmeris - which, although incomprehensible, at least had a few common elements with Tamrielic - to Yoku, Daedric, or possibly Sload. Finally, Gelduin sighed and said we'd better head back to the caravan. I apologised, blaming my inexperience - I'd never tried to teach anyone a spell before, after all. Gelduin just shrugged.

"If you work it out, the offer remains open," she said.

At least I seemed to have made a good impression on her all the same. After speaking to Gelduin, gro-Luzgan looked almost approving (a remarkably disconcerting sight) when he told me I'd done well that day and wasn't needed for night watch. A fact I was thankful for for two reasons: first, between scouting and my miserable failure at teaching, I'd drained my magicka reserves entirely and was looking forward to a good night's sleep to replenish them. Second, it seemed Varvur hadn't been lucky enough to get exempted and so I had something to hold over his head.

Dinner - a large bowl of unidentifiable-chunks-of-meat stew which was one of the best things I had ever tasted (my empty stomach might have played a role in this assessment) - provided a good opportunity to start on both annoying Varvur and recharging my magicka. All the same, the stress of the day made itself known and so it wasn't much later that I settled onto my borrowed bedroll in Gelduin's tent. She was still out, conferring with gro-Luzgan - I'd caught the word blighted as I passed them, so I guessed the guar we'd found had bothered her even more than she'd let on - and I had the tent to myself for now. I'd taken the opportunity to change and perform my evening ablutions in blessed privacy, and now there was only one last thing to do before bed.

I studied my arm. I'd been very careful with it that day and it was feeling much better, with only the occasional dull ache. Still, Sosia had been quite firm: I was to use my new healing spell twice a day for a while longer so it would be fully healed.

"The key of any self-directed healing spell," Sosia said, "is that you need to have a really firm image in your mind of what the affected area is meant to look like, what shape your body is meant to be in - and then use magicka to impose that image on reality."

She paused and looked at me as though waiting for something. She was far more serious when teaching, but right now there was a mischievous look in her eyes which made me remember she was someone who'd thought divesting Hlormar Wine-Sot of all his clothes qualified as appropriate revenge.

"Well, aren't you going to say something like 'that's all'?" Sosia asked when I stayed silent. I had the feeling she'd been looking forward to that particular ignorant comment, and found myself grateful I'd noticed the conversational trap.

"I figured it can't be that easy, considering how much training healers have to undergo," I responded.

Sosia pouted. Apparently I'd ruined her fun. "You're right, of course. For all people say they know something 'as well as the back of their own hand', could you describe the back of your hand perfectly without looking? Sketch it just from memory? Building up a really strong and detailed self-image is hard work."

"Wait a minute," I said warily. My teleportation misadventures were fresh in my mind. "Can healing spells go wrong? If you screw up on your... self-image?" My imagination was coming up with horrible images of me daydreaming in the middle of the healing spell and ending up with a second hand instead of a less broken bone. I silently cursed it for being quite so vivid.

"Oh, not the minor spells - which are all you'd be capable of right now. They just fizzle."

That was reassuring, but I noticed a glaring omission there. "And major spells?"

Sosia paused. "...That's why people have to practice and get the minor spells down perfectly before they try anything bigger. And if worst comes to worst, the body does reject mistakes over time."

Right.

"Visualise in detail what the affected area is meant to look like," I muttered and closed my eyes to focus. I emphatically shut out the image of me with a third hand, then did the same for that of the extra hand atrophying and falling off as my body 'rejected' it (although I was sure it had been meant as a reassuring statement, I felt this did not constitute an improvement of my mental landscape). After all, Sosia had said that was only an issue for major spells and minor spells could only fizzle, so I had nothing to worry about.

I steadfastly ignored the small voice in the back of my mind pointing out that I'd also been told the most teleportation spells could do was fizzle.

So. Focus on what your arm is meant to look like...

After a moment, I cracked my eyes open and rolled up one of my sleeves to take a close look at my uninjured left arm. You might call it cheating, I called it being smart about things.

I'd never exactly had much weight to spare, but once upon a time I'd at least been able to lay claim to 'wiry' without too much laughter. Alas, the last year had put that firmly into the past - I'd definitely lost weight, both muscle and otherwise. At the moment you could get a far better look at my skeletal structure than I thought entirely within the bounds of propriety. I should probably start taking second helpings at dinner. For now, it at least made it obvious that on this side of my body, my bones were wonderfully, gloriously whole.

My arm was covered in fine, pale hairs that were effectively invisible unless you were close enough to either be me or be about to get my fist in your face (I take my personal space quite seriously). My skin was grey, of course...

Detail. 'Grey' covered a lot of ground. Here in Morrowind I'd seen Dunmer of all sorts of colourings, ranging from a pale pearly cast that made them look almost like an extremely unwell Nord to a grey so dark it was close to black. Some had a blue or purple tint to their skin, some the slightest cast of green, a few even shading into brownish - although I suspected that last might imply another race on the father's side.

So. My arm was a dusky grey located firmly in the middle range of the spectrum - perhaps as dark as some of the darker-skinned Nibeneans, paler now than it had been when I was a child due to lack of sun. Although it looked slightly reddish right now, that was just the lighting. Really it was a plain, pure grey with no hint of any other colour.

I closed my eyes and focused on the image of my arm... flipped it, added a mole here and removed one there, remembered the five pinprick scars on my upper arm... there, that looked right. Now draw on your magicka...

Even through my eyelids, I could tell when light blossomed around me and grew. I opened my eyes just in time to see it gather around my arm and then sink into it.

No extra hands appeared, nor did any other horrible mutations I'd been carefully not thinking about materialise. What did happen was that the dull ache faded even further. I bit back a cheer at the success. Then I had to fight off a surge of dizziness as the pool of magicka I'd regenerated over the course of the evening informed me it had opted not to exist after all. Sosia hadn't been kidding when she'd said healing spells really took it out of you.

I lay down on the bedroll and wriggled around until I was comfortable. Then I paused.

"Good dreams, please," I said sternly.



Next

I loved Gelduin’s enthusiastic description of the Grazelands. Adryn’s voice continues to delight. Colonists from Oblivion, lol. Very nice description of her detect life spell and the Blight-sick guar. Gelduin is marvelous. I’m stomping on my inner fangirl to keep her under control.

Ah, Adryn’s failure to teach Gelduin her blight-detection method sheds an interesting light on her own ability to do it. I love how you unveil little mysteries and then let them grow in the reader’s mind.

@Grits - I'm glad you're enjoying Gelduin! She's another character who basically elbowed her way into the story over my protests, so I'm happy that she's going over well.

Also, you are very astute. You're right, Adryn's inability to teach Gelduin her detection spell means something. It's part of my possibly-unhealthy love for mysterious foreshadowing, although I admit I hadn't expected anyone to pick up on that bit being significant quite yet!

Last installment, Adryn finished off her day with a tentative excursion into Restoration, one which went quite successfully. Last we saw her, Adryn was settling down to bed, hoping for more *ahem* good dreams like the last one.



The tavern was dimly lit and filled with smoke. I found myself grateful for the scarf I'd wrapped around my mouth. I'd used it to fool the Nord guards outside, who were only able to distinguish between Chimer and Dwemer on the basis of 'does it have a beard?' - I hadn't realised it could also save me from suffocation.

"Hey, what are you doing here?"

Of course, Dwemer themselves were perfectly capable of telling a Chimer. Never to mention that to anyone capable of counting higher than two without taking off their shoes (I suspected fingers were too advanced a concept for some of these Nords), my chitin armour and spear made my race obvious. No Dwemer I've ever seen appreciates chitin - they seem to think there's nothing that can't be improved by making it out of metal instead. I keep waiting for them to build a giant statue out of the stuff and start worshipping it.

"Sorry to intrude," I said, finding that I was, in fact, deeply sorry to intrude. The glitter of at least a dozen pairs of alien black eyes, all fixed on me, made me want to forget my plan and flee back to my tribe. But I ploughed on. "I'm looking for the Brothers of Resdayn?"

Silence spread out from me like ripples in a pond, broken only by clanking noises as some of the mer who'd been watching me got to their feet (you see what I mean about the metal?). I swallowed when I saw hands drift to hilts.

Perhaps that had been too blunt? Our Wise Woman had always said that my complete and utter inability to use this strange thing called 'tact' would be the end of me one day. I had to admit I'd hoped that day wouldn't come quite this soon.

"Well, boys," one of the Dwemer around me said. "Looks like we need to move. Our security must be dismal if one of the Daedric bootlickers managed to find us."

"Yeah, we definitely need a new place if they're letting chimps in," another Dwemer agreed, one who looked... disturbingly like all the others around him, actually. I briefly considered the possibility that I'd just entered the home of identical quindecaplets - the poor mother! - then discarded it. I lingered longer over the idea of there being some truth in those Solstice tales about Dwemer children being grown in vats (some sort of chemical contamination might explain the lack of intelligence in this group - really, 'chimp'? That's just embarrassing coming from anyone over the age of five), but decided in the end that my ability to tell Dwemer apart could probably use some work.

"Good idea, but we should beat him up a little first. Make him tell us who let things slip." All right, maybe there were more important things to worry about than Dwemer reproduction.

"Wait. I want to talk to him." The voice from the back of the room made the Dwemer who'd been circling me like cliff racers who'd just spotted something shiny (an unfair comparison really, cliff racers being so much more intelligent) back off. The crowd around them parted to let me through. Someone with authority, then. Maybe my plan wasn't a total loss.

At the back of the room sat a Dwemer, one who looked much like all the other Dwemer except that his vat had apparently been running on a bigger scale. It was enough to make me wish for once in my life that I was taller. I was usually perfectly all right with being wiry rather than muscular and a little short (all manly posturing aside, the easier time I had hiding wasn't to be sneezed at), but it was hard not to wish for a few more inches and a little more biceps when faced with a mer who looked as though he could snap me in half.

Given the lack of other distinguishing features, I mentally dubbed him 'Dwarf-Orc'. I immediately warned my tongue not to let that moniker slip.

Dwarf-Orc peered at me. "I'd like to ask you some questions, Chimer. But I want to see who I'm talking to. Otherwise, I'll let Cuolec and Mzend continue what I interrupted."

What-

Oh, the scarf.

I bid a sad farewell to breathable air and pushed the cloth covering my mouth down. I inhaled very carefully, giving my lungs time to adjust. I didn't think hacking and coughing would help my standing here.

Murmurs started up around the two of us.

"...you know I'm not good with these beardless faces, but..."

"...shouldn't he be with his mother sacrificing guar to Daedra or whatever it is these barbarians do?"

"...a kid?"

Kid? I'd completed the ritual of adulthood over two years ago, thank you very much. I'd like to see any of these brutes manage the same. It'd be a good laugh, watching them trying to survive in the wilderness on their own for a full month, especially when with all that clank they'd scare away all the creatures in miles by just standing up-

I swallowed down my protests, firmly telling myself that 'kid' was better than 'chimp' any day. If they'd managed to see past the chitin to my age, that was progress already.

Dwarf-Orc didn't react beyond a nod. "All right, then. Why are you here?"

"I'm interested in working with you." I was pleased that the words came out steady.

I was less pleased when the Dwemer erupted in laughter.

"Working with us?" Dwarf-Orc drawled once the noise had died down. He hadn't laughed, but something about the set of his mouth told me it had been a struggle. "Aren't there any Chimer resistance groups you could join?"

"Oh, there are. In fact, I lead one," only because we'd lost everyone more suited in the last raid, but that fell into the category of 'need-to-know' information. To be precise, into the category of information they really, really didn't need to know. "Sorry, I should have been clearer - I'm not interested in joining you, I'm interested in allying with you."

This time nobody laughed. Somehow, I suspected this didn't constitute an improvement.

"Why, exactly, do you think I'd be interested in making alliance with a group of Chimer?" There was something dangerous in Dwarf-Orc's tone. All right, definitely not an improvement.

"Well, for one I'm hoping you're not stupid." The words escaped before I could stop them, and I winced when I saw Dwarf-Orc's eyes narrow. The Wise Woman had also said that the only way I'd cut it as a diplomat would be with divine assistance. I'd so hoped this little jaunt wouldn't prove her right.

"Explain." The voice was cold, but Dwarf-Orc hadn't reached for his axe yet. That was probably the best I could hope for.

"Look-" I spread my hands. "The only way those Nords were able to conquer us was by playing us against each other. Everyone knows Chimer and Dwemer get along about as well as alit and nix-hounds. Even now, with those round-ears driving us off our land, taking our goods... walking through our halls," I added for my Dwemer audience, "we're at each other's throats. And that means we can't shake them off."

I took a deep breath, wishing for some water to wet my throat. But I couldn't stop now - I had them listening, I had to make the most of it. "Us Chimer, we're good at guerilla tactics. Hit-and-run, fading away, sabotage, using the terrain to our advantage. But we don't have the staying power, and don't have the sort of arms and armour we'd need to survive a head-on clash... or to be really dangerous to them. Without that, all we can be is a nuisance. And as for you Dwemer-" I paused. Judging by the looks I was getting, I had the impression that continuing that sentence wouldn't be good for my health.

Dwarf-Orc, however, looked thoughtful. "We've got the weapons, the armour, the staying power," he offered. "But we're bad at scouting, hiding, moving quickly. The elders say that when the Nords invaded, they kept luring our troops into ambushes. And now it turns out the old tactics don't work well for a rebellion."

A low murmur of discontent was rising from the Dwemer around us - I wasn't sure if they were objecting to what Dwarf-Orc was saying, or just objecting to him telling me.

"You see," I seized the opportunity to continue before things could degenerate, "neither of us can drive out the Nords out on our own. We definitely can't do it while trying to fight each other at the same time, or with them playing us off against each other. There's a saying about the enemy of one's enemy which I think all of us could do to heed. And if everyone is really so keen on killing each other because of theological differences, we can always get back to that after we've driven the northmen out of our home."

I bit the inside of my cheek. I hadn't meant to say that last part out loud-

But Dwarf-Orc was laughing. "Well said, well said! I agree in every instance, particularly the last-"

"You can't be serious?" The interruption came from one of the other Dwemer, who looked aghast. Provided I was reading his expression correctly through the growth on his face. "The Chimer are just as bad-"

Dwarf-Orc fixed him with a cold look. "When I want your opinion, Rourken, I'll ask for it. Until then, if you have any objections to my leadership? The door is that way." The mer subsided, grumbling.

Dwarf-Orc turned back to me. "I'm Dumac - I'm the leader of this band."

Just Dumac? What a pity, he'd seemed reasonably intelligent up until now (a sadly rare occurrence), but if he was really stupid enough to think I'd believe he was of no clan, that I'd just roll over and take such an insult-

Wait. Dwemer.

Cultural differences, I told myself sternly. Remember cultural differences!

"And who would you be, ally?" Dwa- Dumac asked, extending his hand.

Ally. Praise Azura. I hadn't expected this to actually work.

I reached out and clasped the offered hand to seal the agreement, hoping he wouldn't notice the way my own was shaking. "My name is-"



Next

Notes: Completely irrelevant to this chapter, but:

I now own a new laptop which is capable of running Skyrim! Writing has slowed somewhat as a result >> but I'm taking advantage of the opportunity to check out Solitude and other places in Skyrim Adryn lived when she was younger. It's helping a lot... and I will happily wave away any inaccuracies with "200 years time difference!"

(Some Adryn in Skyrim pictures might come out of this if I can find head/hair mods for her, although her outright horror/vehement protests at the idea of dragonslaying makes her even more unplayable as an in-game character than in Morrowind. Oops.)

- Indoril Nerevar!

And poor Adryn has yet another bizarre dream. Ugh. Isn't she afraid to sleep by now?

This was a great update! I love that you cued the reader in right away that this was not the Adryn we know so there was no head-scratching to distract from the story. You did it in a subtle and seamless way so that by the end we could guess his identity, but there was never even a hint of anything out of place in the scene. Outstanding!

In case it helps ease Adryn’s qualms about the northern province through the Skyrim game, it’s easy to leave the dragons out completely. Some of my characters never see a dragon after the very first scene, so they have never had to fight one.