*




Perfect imagery you gave this scene stealing imp!




ROFL !!! Sparky has become quite the celeb ... er ... personality!



Powerful ending to the homespun feel of the chapter! The reader may have seen this blow coming, but gets the feeling this is the first time Abiene has realized the impact of her actions/heart. It also seems Darnand won't be the only one missing her when she goes to Chorrol, she has a soothing effect on all the men and may evoke a pilgrimmage of the Anvil chapter to Chorrol behind her when she goes, lol.

Great Chapter, wonderfully written !!!


*

Edit: That all came out wrong, not the way I had intended it to appear at all.

But now back to the current episode:
How does a healer care for herself?”
Abiene’s mind leaped straight to Jerric. Find someone who loves you and don’t let them go, she thought
Ahh, the classic mistake. That of course, only makes things worse. Because it only adds one more person she has to take care of. Back in my Human Sexuality class in college, I learned that married women are the most unhealthy people in the world, because they have to spend so much time taking care of everyone in their household, that there is literally no time for them to take care of themselves. And of course no one else is going to do it for them.

Formed from the blood of Anu
A nice touch of world-building there.

No mortal ever loved pie more than Jerric.
Yes, hair-pie!

All in all, a lovely segment, giving us a look into Abiene's life at the guild hall, her ordinary trials with the abused child, etc... Thaurron really shines here. You have given him a great deal of depth and personality in a very short space, making him and his pet imp leap off the page. I wish I had someone like him to warm my bath water. I always make it too hot, or too cold as well...




nits:
And he’ll go on to who knows what.
I am thinking you wanted to end with a question mark here.

* Gripe removed. I just wish the adults on here would remember that this site is primarily here for and filled with minors. Our attitudes in everything we say and do on here as adults should reflect that and be cognizant of and responsible with the impressions we are leaving with our words.

I am sorry that you take it that way. I do worry about people thinking something like that, and often bite my lip. But the fact of the matter is that I have never met a woman (who was attracted to men), who was not attracted to bad boys. And I have met a lot of women! I do not think of that as degrading or demeaning of them. It just is what it is, and I am not the first person to notice it.

But since you commented, in the future I will refrain from making any remarks about the subject. I am not here to offend you.

Grits, this was a delightfully written episode. The style is both silky and subtle, while the content was simultaneously relaxing and powerful. Just some examples:

'The cold night air bore a hint of low tide and wood smoke.'

'Green brocade and velvet provided a background for the lavish display of gold trim on his doublet. '

“There is much you are not saying. Heat in your eyes and sand in your shoes this past week. What will you do, Abiene?”


My heart aches for Abiene (and Jerric and Darnand, and our Bosmeri widower).

Sparky tends to the steal the show whenever he graces anyone's fanfic, but your content here was so good that even the Sparkmeister could not upstage Abiene.

In case it isn't clear, I thoroughly enjoyed this!

Very, very enjoyable, and I don't say that lightly here. Abiene is fast becoming one of my favorite characters ever. You are competing with published authors now, Grits, that is how well you have done with her.

Of course she kept her own possessions under lock and key. At least since the time he ate her skin cream, then regurgitated on her rug.



I am at loss for words. All I can say is don't stop now, cause I'm having such a good time. (I'm having a ball!)

haute ecole rider: Indeed, this one could have been titled “Abiene’s Slumber Party.” If she ever visits the guild in Bravil, it will be estrogen overload. I have to give TK the credit for the scene where Sparky lit Marc’s shirt on fire, that was in Light Through Darkness. He hasn’t attacked anyone in this story, I’m afraid my Carahil would draw the line there! Still, Thaurron has shown that taming a creature is far from training it. He could use a visit from the Imp Whisperer.

mALX: You’re absolutely right, this is the first time Abiene has really faced what she knows, that the two of them are heading off in opposite directions. She would take Thaurron with her to Chorrol if she could! I’m glad you enjoyed Sparky’s antics!

SubRosa: I hope I can clear something up about the way I have portrayed Jerric. I don’t think it’s coming across. Jerric drinks, gets in fights, and has a lot of casual sex. Sometimes he has to kill people. That does not make him an alcoholic, thug, bully, rapist, or murderer. It also does not make him a good candidate for priesthood. If I haven’t objected to the term bad boy applied to him, it’s because I did not think it was being used as a synonym for evil man.

One of the things I’ve tried to show is Jerric not cashing in on his dangerous appearance. (Meaning physically imposing, scarred, and generally armed to the teeth.) He shut down Astia in Skingrad because he thought she was misjudging him. He decided that Anette in Weye was too young to make an informed decision about him. The tweenage girls in Weye are an example of people who saw his character. They judged him based on his behavior, smiling and helping a local fisherman. They would not have been giggling and sneaking peeks if they felt threatened. I hope I showed that Abiene was drawn to him because he reminded her of her sweet boyfriend from home that she still has feelings for. She found out quickly that Jerric is likeable, and he made her laugh. Score. I would say that being a decent guy got him laid that day. She didn’t think he was a thug at all, and that appealed to him.

Here’s the context for his killing/raping remark:

They wandered toward the edge of the crowd, sipping their drinks. “You are outrageous,” Abiene said. “Is there anyone you don’t flirt with?”

“I have to compensate. Folk don’t tend to like me right away.”

Abiene looked at him over her cup. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah. I mean, folk look at you and think, ‘Here’s a nice woman. Sweet face and the hands of a healer. Dibella must love her.’ They look at me and think, ‘There goes a man on his way to a killing. Maybe he’ll stop and do some raping first.’ So I start off with a smile.”

He’s explaining the disadvantage of some people assuming the worst of him. They would have those thoughts and go to the other side of the street when they see him. When Jerric talks about some people thinking his scars must mean he is a monster, he is unhappy about it, not bragging. Other people (like Abiene) know that the scars only mean that something hurt him, and he survived it.

There would be some women who are now drawn to Darnand as a result of his new reputation. Presumably these women would be straight, but that should in no way imply that all straight women would fall into this category. This is something Jerric would anticipate based on his own experience. He would also anticipate that Darnand would not see this as a positive development, as he does not. But they haven’t had a chance to get into that yet.

I have to say, my first thought about women who would want to sleep with men because they have murdered women is “They must be bat-poop crazy,” not “They must be straight.”

I’m glad you enjoyed Thaurron. He has been important for Abiene, but I haven’t had much chance to show it. She would not have thrived in Anvil without a mutually nurturing relationship like she had at home with Ilonea. As Darnand said, she thinks the whole world is her patient. Good catch on the pie.

Acadian: Thank you so much, Acadian! I wanted this episode to have the feeling of Abiene, and your words tell me that it did. I appreciate knowing that the friends have touched your heart, especially Thaurron. It will be hard to leave him in Anvil. No matter what they say about Bosmeri, I find they can be quite winsome.

Thomas Kaira: Thank you so much for your kind words about Abiene. She keeps giving herself a bigger role, and I’ve stopped arguing. I am so honored by her appearance in your story!

Where we are: A long Loredas ran into Sundas morning at the Mages Guild.


Chapter 10: Septims, Part 17

Jerric opened the front door of the Mages Guild and followed his nose into the dining hall. Sundas breakfast was worth getting up for. A Nord cook knew how to make the most of winter ingredients. He blessed Hjordhild’s heritage as he filled his plate. Potato cakes with sour cream and applesauce, ham chopped into cubes and fried with onions and potatoes, pumpkin muffins, cheesy eggs baked with sausage and sun-dried tomatoes, and a slice of cornbread with strawberry preserves to balance on top. He reached for the tall pitcher of kahve. One large pottery mug now waited behind the cluster of regular-sized ceramic ones. He smiled as he filled it. Hjordhild likes me, he decided.

Jerric turned to the Imperial next to him at the sideboard. The lad’s grey eyes were wide with the expression Jerric was still not comfortable seeing. He looked at the lad’s plate.

“Don’t be shy,” Jerric told him. “At your age, even Imperials have a hollow leg.” He poured another mug while the lad heaped more eggs on his plate. “Here you go.”

The Imperial took the kahve, eyes even wider. “Thank you, sir,” he gulped. He quickly moved to sit at the long table with the other young associates and students. Just this summer I was sitting there, Jerric thought.

He sipped his kahve as he made his way over to Carahil’s table. There was a space on the bench opposite Darnand and Thaurron, next to Gulitte. He folded himself into it, careful not to bruise Felen in his customary spot at the foot of the table. Nods and murmured greetings did not interrupt the conversation in progress. Darnand looked pale, preoccupied, and a little tense. He’s back to normal, Jerric thought. Though the shadows under his eyes were perhaps darker than usual.

“I heard the Anvil Guard finally put a stop to the gang of women who have been preying on the town’s men,” Felen was saying. Jerric decided Felen must have been up gossiping before dawn.

“What has occurred?” Carahil’s voice was as smooth as glass. Jerric glanced at her. Even at the breakfast table she looked ready for an audience with the Countess. I bet every part of her is polished, he thought. Then he had to hide his smile in his mug.

“They were killed by a powerful mage.” Felen’s words silenced the room. “Their bodies were dismembered. I suspect it was a summoning.”

Jerric saw Darnand staring down at his plate.

“Who?” gasped Gulitte. “Was it murder?”

No one loves a sordid tale more than a mage, thought Jerric. Here come the theatrics. “I’m sure he, or she, had a good reason,” he said.

He found that all eyes were on him, except Darnand’s. Gulitte’s voice swelled with anticipation. “Do you know who did it?”

Dammit, thought Jerric. “I’m just saying, maybe they were working with the Anvil Guard. Or something.” He tried to hide his discomfort by using his napkin, but he hadn’t picked one up. “I mean, they’re probably not a murderer, no matter what people are saying.” He stared at Gulitte, hoping to shut him up.

“Was it you?” Gulitte asked. The air in the room seemed to disappear as folk sucked in their breath.

“I wish. I can’t summon anything that could do that.” Jerric’s sustained glare was making his eyes burn.

Gulitte’s eyebrows had shot up his forehead. He opened his mouth to speak again.

“It was I,” Darnand said quietly. “Please pass the salt.”

Abiene walked over during the babble that followed. She placed her plate and mug on the table between Thaurron and Darnand. “Good morning,” she said in a clear voice that carried over the talk. She rested her hand on Darnand’s shoulder and lifted her skirt to step over the bench. Jerric looked, hoping to catch a glimpse of thigh. Then he quickly looked away, hoping he hadn’t been caught.

Thaurron’s eyebrow spoke for him. The Bosmer didn’t miss much.

Jerric cleared his throat, trying to think of something to change the subject. Abiene’s plate held only a pumpkin muffin, but he knew that was not a suitable topic of conversation. He watched her break off a piece and raise it to her mouth, lipping the crumbs from her fingertips.

“What brings you to us so early this morning, Jerric?” asked Thaurron. “Will you join us at the chapel?”

Thank you, little mer, thought Jerric. “Uh, no. The gods will find me if they want something.” Carahil gave him a sharp look for that piece of impiety. “I need to spend some time with my horse. And do some training. Then I have to pick up some things in Westgate.”

Abiene’s tone was casual. “Training at the Fighters Guild?”

“No, here. Do you have some time for me?”

She sipped her kahve and appeared to be thinking. “I will be busy at the healing hall after chapel, and then I have some errands that will take me to Westgate. Shall I find you there this afternoon?” Her eyes smiled at him over the rim of her mug.

Jerric felt heat rising in his face. He became acutely aware that Gulitte was still looking at him. “Uh, yeah. That would be great. It’s, uh, going to be a nice day.” He took a gulp of kahve. “For being outside.”

“I’ll look for you at five of the afternoon watch, under the evergreen oak in Westgate. Will that give you enough time?”

“Yeah. That sounds like a great plan, Abiene. Thank you.” He guessed that if she meant something else entirely, she would have the sense to tell him in private.

“What happened?” Gulitte asked Darnand eagerly. Darnand’s knuckles were still white on his kahve mug. Jerric considered kicking Gulitte, but he couldn’t get an angle.

“They died. This subject is closed.” Darnand looked over at Jerric. “I am at your disposal, if you wish to conclude our business today.”

Jerric nodded. “After chapel?”

“Right away, if you like. My presence today would not please Dibella.”

After breakfast Jerric followed Darnand out the front door. Abiene caught his hand in the doorway, whispering that she would be at his hut by three bells. He gave her fingers a quick squeeze of acknowledgement as he left.

Darnand was quiet on their walk to the castle. He had been a shield for Jerric on the day he returned to Anvil, and Jerric wished he had been able to think more quickly at the breakfast table. Then he realized that Darnand had handled the situation on his own. He tried to find the words that would express his regret without sounding as if he doubted Darnand’s competence. He also wanted to give him an opportunity to talk without needling him with questions. Arvena’s lessons hadn’t taken him this far. He decided to speak from his heart.

“About last night. I put you in a bad situation without a backup plan. You did well, but I failed.”

Darnand kept his face forward and continued walking. “When we speak of high-risk work, we are accepting the potential for such occurrences. Someone had to be first. I would not have chosen to kill those women, but I did not choose to die instead.” His voice had the resolute tone of a practiced speech. Then Darnand looked over at Jerric. His eyes betrayed his vulnerability. “I was surprised at how quickly their malice fled. One moment they would have murdered me, and the next I had blood on my hands.”

Jerric reached out and steered him around a lamp post. “Yeah.”

They walked in silence for a few moments before Darnand spoke again. “Perhaps in our future endeavors, I might take a more active role in determining our course of action.”

“Yeah,” Jerric agreed fervently. “About that. There’s a Nord up in Whitmond, name of Maeva. The Buxom. She needs help, something about her husband ran off on her. Maybe you could come with me when I talk to her.”

“I think that would be well advised.”

Gogan and Maelona had their report ready for Darnand’s and Jerric’s signatures. The Guardsmen emphasized the need to keep their identities secret. Jerric supposed it was too late to keep Darnand’s name out of it. The chapel was no doubt buzzing with mages confiding their latest story to just one friend. The news would surely reach Valenwood by lunchtime.

He watched Darnand exchange his signature for a pouch of gold in the Steward’s office. Then he handed some of it back to be kept in his account. The county taxed such savings, but it was far less than the thieves’ tax. Jerric wondered if the gold in the Kvatch vaults had been recovered. Surely the records would have burned.

Walking back across the castle bridge, Darnand handed the rest of the gold to Jerric. “Your half,” he said.

“I didn’t do anything,” Jerric objected.

“You got us the job, and you provided support. I refuse to quibble over such matters. In the course of our partnership I expect that our roles will vary. Over time, there will be a balance. Do you agree?”

“Yeah.” Jerric weighed the pouch in his hand, smiling. He had enough to make several merchants very happy.

Jerric left Darnand at the guild hall and walked out the Main Gate. He found Flash in the large pasture behind Horse Whisperer Stables, grazing with a group of horses. He leaned on the fence and watched for a few moments. The red-headed stable hand joined him at the rail.

“You’re Flash’s friend,” the Nord told Jerric, smiling broadly. “I remember.”

“That’s right, Kado.” Jerric smiled back at him. “How’s he doing?”

“Good, good.” Kado nodded firmly to emphasize his words. “He’s doing good.”

“Do you think he’ll come over when I whistle?”

Kado’s face lit up with anticipation. “You taking him out today?”

“Yeah. Will you help me get him ready?”

“I’ll help you! You watch, I’ll do everything right!” Kado’s grin was infectious. It’s good to see a man who loves his work, thought Jerric.

Jerric’s whistle brought Flash over to them, though Jerric suspected the carrots in his hand had something to do with it. The three of them walked toward the stable, crunching their carrots.

“I have some business with Clesa first,” Jerric said. “I’ll meet you.”

“Mother is in the house,” Kado told him. Jerric tried to hide his surprise.

He exchanged glares with Ernest on his way into the stable house. Jerric had nothing to say to Clesa’s husband. After he handed over some coins, Jerric eyed Clesa as she made a record of the payment. He saw no resemblance between this beautiful Redguard and the grown but child-like Nord outside.

“Your account is paid through next week,” Clesa said. She handed him his receipt.

“Thank you. I’m taking Flash out for a few hours, Kado’s with him. He’s your son?”

Clesa returned his look, unflinching. “A fever left him simple when he was just a lad. Ernest and I took him in, his mother died from the same illness. He’s good with the horses. Do you have concerns?”

“No, I just wondered. If you trust him, so do I.”

Clesa’s face softened. “I don’t often hear that.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say it of your husband.”

Clesa snorted. “That I do tend to hear.”

The hours passed quickly until it was time to meet Abiene at his hut. Jerric built as lively a fire as he could risk in his fireplace. Leyawiin was about as far from the Western Reach as he could imagine. Abiene had grown up in an Argonian climate. She did not relish the cold.

When Jerric heard her light step on his wooden porch, he couldn’t help grinning. Or his other reaction. Keep your trousers on, he told himself. At least until you learn the spell.

My interest has been perked by the focus on Clesa's son Kado. I've always liked Jerric's easy way with children, and to see it extends to the less fortunate as well reveals a lot about his character. Children, dogs and cats - they can usually determine someone's true nature better than adults, lol. Another wonderful addition to an AWESOME character driven story!!! Your ability to develop deep characters is amazing, a huge gift !!! Great Write !!!

I loved the uncomfortable scene at the breakfast table, between trying to keep what happened the night before secret (and protect Darnand, which turns out to be a misplaced intention) and ogling Abiene without being obvious. Darnand definitely can handle the consequences, as dreadful as they may be, because he's got a pair, all right.

I also enjoyed sharp-eyed Thaurron and suspicious Gilette. And the gossipy Felen! Not like my Felen at all! But I still enjoyed them anyway.

And the scene at the horse stables was wonderful. I'd trust a simple man with my horse before I'd trust a former knacker! Poor Clesa! At least Cato Kado is good for something!

Thanks for a great southern breakfast!

Your delicate skill with your characters continues be a joy to read.

“What has occurred?” Carahil’s voice was as smooth as glass. Jerric glanced at her. Even at the breakfast table she looked ready for an audience with the Countess. I bet every part of her is polished, he thought. Then he had to hide his smile in his mug. '
Wow! Is this ever Carahil! Oh, and a lovely touch of humor about her polished bits!

'Thaurron’s eyebrow spoke for him. The Bosmer didn’t miss much. '
This would have been so easy to overstate. Perfect example of the delicate touch I mentioned you have. And another reason to like the endearing mer.

'Jerric reached out and steered him around a lamp post.'
The imagery of this brought a big chuckle!

'The chapel was no doubt buzzing with mages confiding their latest story to just one friend. The news would surely reach Valenwood by lunchtime. '
Yup. Just one friend. . . .

Gosh, Jerric, Darnanad, Thaurron, Abiene, Carahil all shine here!

The dialogue you gave Kado was perfect. I enjoyed his enthusiasm and how very Jerric to return simple kindness in kind, and even extend it to Clessa. The scene says much about Jerric - all of it good! Yum, carrots!

Girl, if ever Hemingway met Kathleen Woddiwiss, you would be the product - a writing style that has both the masculine hard hitting style with the delicacy and insightfulness of the feminine touch.

mALX: Thank you so much, mALX! You picked up exactly what I was hoping to show with Kado. And now of course I have a whole bunch of Kado story buzzing in my head, argh! Jerric may never get out of Anvil.

haute ecole rider: I’m glad you enjoyed the breakfast scene. Jerric was definitely in over his head, and it was nice to let Darnand take care of business. I had to give Clesa some help, no way was I going to let Ernest get his hands on Flash! Thank you for your approval of Kado.

Acadian: The lamp post is one of my favorite Jerric and Darnand moments, I’m so glad you pointed it out! Thank you for your remarks about Kado, he had a lot to say in a few words.

D. Foxy: I am astonished and humbled. And also Thank you so much, Foxy!

Where we are: Abiene has arrived at the beach hut to teach Jerric some illusion magic.



Chapter 10: Septims, Part 18

Abiene swept into the hut, pink-cheeked and breathless from the wind. Her cold nose pressed into Jerric’s open collar made him laugh. He lifted her over to stand in front of the fire.

“Business first,” she said resolutely, even though she already had her arms around him.

He decided that meant he should quit grinding against her. He stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m ready when you are.”

Abiene removed her cloak and hung it on the wooden peg by the door. “At the guild hall I would give you a potion first, so that you could feel the spell’s effects before you try to cast it. I’m sorry, I forgot to bring one. Do you know how to make a potion that will light the area around you? I don’t remember. I’m afraid I haven’t spent much time with illusion magic since University.”

“Sure. White seed pods and alkanet flowers. I’ve never used one, but I’ve made plenty. Let me check my bag.” Jerric dumped his gathering sack out onto his small table. “Look, here’s… Well, there’s a lot here. No alkanet. I know I found some dried ones, must have given them to Felen.”

Abiene looked away from the jumbled mess, smoothing her skirt. “I’ll cast the spell then, and you try to read it. Like an enchantment. If Darnand is right, you might be able to do it. Are you ready? Here it goes.”

Abiene raised her hand and whispered a word. Green light spilled out of her open palm and seeped into the space around them. Jerric stretched out his magical sense, reading the spell.

It was in his mind. The sense of wrong forced the breath out of him, and he reached out reflexively to shove Abiene. He stopped himself in time, barely. The green light winked away.

“What is it?” she gasped, taking a step back.

“I’m sorry! It’s just… The light was in my head. It’s a trick! There is no light.” He ran a nervous hand through his hair.

Abiene’s eyes were still wide and startled. “You’ve seen a light spell before, haven’t you? You must have!”

“Yeah, but I didn’t know what it was doing. Are other folk all right with this?”

“Of course.” Abiene stepped toward him again. He let her take his hands. “When I’ve healed you, I’ve sent my magicka throughout all of you. It didn’t seem to upset you at all.”

“You weren’t tricking me. That light spell changed my thoughts. It made me see what isn’t there! How can you do that to someone?”

“Jerric, I…” Abiene looked embarrassed and confused. “Illusion magic is… No one means you harm with a light spell.”

Jerric squeezed her hands, still disturbed by his reaction. “I know you don’t mean me any harm. You can cast light around me any time, I trust you. I just won’t pay attention to it, or something.” He drew her closer and ran his palms up to her shoulders, trying to shake off his uneasy feeling. Somehow her hands got under his shirt.

“We should try again,” she said with determination. “You learned your first alteration spell so quickly. I know I can teach you an illusion spell.”

“All right.” He stepped back. “How about one that only I can see by. ‘Eyes at Night,’ or something.”

“That’s an apprentice spell. Light is the one everyone starts with.” She looked thoughtful for a moment. “A weak charm spell isn’t too difficult. I’ll do it first, like before. Are you ready?”

Jerric nodded, and she cast the spell.

It could have been hours later, or only one. Jerric’s head pounded as if he had tried to drown himself in flin. His neck burned with tension, and his legs needed to run. Abiene looked ready to weep. He still had not learned any illusion magic.

“Once again,” Abiene said hopelessly.

“Never mind, I’ll keep using torches.” Jerric reached over and opened the door for some air, then closed it when he saw her shiver. “It’s getting late. You should stay, and I’ll cook us some dinner. I’ll go kill something. There’s always a crab nearby.” He rolled his shoulders, letting go of his tension.

Abiene took a deep breath and let it out. She looked at his hearth dubiously. “Can you even cook here? There’s no… thing you hang the pots upon.”

“It’s just like cooking on a campfire when you don’t have a crane. The hardest part is hauling the water from town. The well here is foul. Sometimes I just use seawater.”

“Eew! Fish — I’m not drinking seawater!”

“Not to drink.” Jerric laughed, his strain easing. “To boil things and wash with.”

“No, thank you! Seawater is dirty.”

“I’m surprised to hear you say that, considering where you’ll put your… That is to say, what you’re willing…” Abiene’s look did not encourage him to continue. “Never mind,” he concluded.

“That’s different.” She smiled up at him, sliding her hands back under his shirt. “I mean there’s the bedchamber, and then there’s what you’d put in the soup. I don’t mind seawater in the washbasin. I just don’t want to swallow it.”

Jerric decided to let that statement go unremarked upon. “I’ll try to remember to bring more water from town. I just keep forgetting the damn bucket.” He began to lose track of what they had been talking about. “Look, my head is killing me. Let’s open the wine.”

His clay mugs were less than elegant, but the vintage was good. He handed Abiene her cup and watched.

“Tamika’s 415!” She was clearly surprised. “This wine is excellent. You shouldn’t, Jerric. It must have cost you more than anything in this room.”

“Well you don’t like beer or ale, and I’m not going to give you cheap wine. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re too fine for this hut. I mean, whenever I picture you in my mind, you’re always in a nice place. Like your room at the guild.”

“You picture me? When?”

“Whenever you’re not here. Last night, for example.” Jerric grabbed his crotch and grinned at her.

Abiene threw her head back, laughing. “You are so rude!”

“Just how you like me. I love to hear you laugh like that, Abiene. Why aren’t you always this way?”

The smile left her face. “People are always measuring me, checking to see if I’m doing anything wrong. Not everyone, but sometimes it’s too much. When you look at me, I know you just see who I am. I don’t have to guard myself with you, Jerric.”

“You can be yourself with anyone. Who you are is good enough. The rest of them can go hump themselves if they don’t like it.”

“I know that’s how you feel. I suppose I just can’t let go of all the expectations. I’m afraid I’ll disappoint them.”

“Disappoint who?”

“I don’t even know any more.” Abiene looked away, chewing her lip.

Jerric took her cup and set it with his on the cluttered table. “Abiene, I don’t mean to upset you. But this is pretty important, I think. Is that why you don’t want people to know about us? Are you ashamed of me?”

“Jerric, don’t.” She wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“Because I’m a Nord? It’s all right to say, I know I’ll never be smart like Darnand. I’m not angry, Abiene. I just wonder, that’s all.” He tried to turn her face toward him, but she pulled away. “Is it the drinking? I haven’t been on a real bender since I got back.”

“Please stop, Jerric.” Her face crumpled in distress.

“Look, don’t cry. Dammit, I’m sorry.”

“There is nothing I would change about you. Nothing,” she choked.

“All right. Hush, Abiene.” He reached out to draw her to him. “I won’t ask again, promise. I’m not going to start saying no to you.”

“You should say no to me!” She hit him on the stomach. “You should say no, because I won’t, I won’t say it! And you’re going to go, and I won’t be here when you return! And what if you don’t? How will I know what’s happened to you, if you never return?” Her words ended in ragged sobs.

Jerric caught her hands, bewildered by her outburst. Everything she had said was something that they already knew. “We’re both here now,” he said softly, trying to soothe her. “This is borrowed time, we should just enjoy it.” He doubted that reasonable talk would help the situation. Instead he held her close until the storm passed.

Eventually Abiene sniffed deeply in the folds of his shirt. Her voice sounded thick with tears and a stuffy nose. “I don’t want them to know that I lost you,” she said in a muffled tone. “When everyone looks at me, it will remind them that you left. It’s too much to bear.”

Jerric didn’t have an answer for that, but he understood it. A sudden glance of pity could feel like a punch in the throat. He still hadn’t been able to face Rhano’s parents, knowing that he stood for everyone they had lost.

He decided there was nothing to be gained from that kind of talk. Maybe he could tease a smile out of her. “Look, you’re making me upset too,” he said, keeping his tone light. “Come on, let’s get our clothes off. We can go swimming, it’s only a little dark and cold. Unless you have a better idea.” He tried not to grin, but he couldn’t help it.

Abiene started laughing through her tears, her hands still twisted in his shirt and shaking. Jerric thought that was a good beginning.

Later he held her in his bed, watching the fire die down. Her skin warmed the length of his side, but he could feel the cold creeping through the wall. She was so still, he thought she had fallen asleep.

“What did you mean, you’re on borrowed time?” she asked him softly.

Jerric wound his fingers in her hair and tried to look at her face, but she kept it turned toward the fire. He spoke quietly too, as if a normal voice could cause the moment to break. “I don’t belong to myself any more. What I need to do, I won’t live through. I’ve seen it in my dreams. There’s no future with me, Abiene. We should go ahead and say goodbye.”

“It’s what they say about you, isn’t it. Lionheart. You’re going to save us from the daedra when they come.” He saw the firelight gleam on her silent tears.

“Not just me, and I have to try. That’s why I’m still around, my purpose. You saw how I was when I got here. You helped me pull myself together again. I’m so sorry that it hurt you.”

Abiene turned her face toward him now, letting him see the depth of her grief. “Don’t you want to live?”

He knew what she was asking. “I can’t hope for us and still do what I need to. I guess a better man could. I’d just keep wanting to take you away somewhere and keep you safe.” He brushed his thumb under her eye, gathering her tears. “There’s a lot for you to live for, Abiene. It’s going to get darker, but there’s still a way through it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean don’t give up, no matter what. It’s not for me to explain.”

She was silent for several minutes. Jerric listened to the embers crackle and the surf outside washing up onto the shore.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t teach you the light spell,” she finally said.

“I couldn’t learn it. There’s a difference.”

“I wish there was more I could do for you.”

“If you think of something, I know you’ll do it.” I wonder when the message will come from Martin, he thought. Each time I hold her could be the last.

Abiene lifted her head to look at him again. “What do you see in your dreams?”

“Fire. Teeth and claws. A daedroth kills me, I think. It’s always the same.” Fresh tears slipped down her cheeks. He felt relieved that they had stopped pretending it would somehow be all right. Better to face this now together than later when she’s alone, he decided. “Don’t worry, I’ll go out fighting.”

“You must go to Leyawiin, Jerric.” Her voice held a desperate note. “You’ll need to for your recommendations anyway. Dagail is the Chapter Head there, she’s a powerful mystic. Dreams can tell you all kinds of things, it might not be what it seems.” She pushed herself up, taking his face in her hands. A burst of pain sent his breath out in a grunt.

“Abiene,” he gasped. “Your knee —”

“I’m sorry!” Her frantic scramble cost him more agony. By the end of it he lay curled around himself, groaning. She sprawled on the floor, rubbing her hip. “I’m so sorry! Let me heal you! Oh, this floor is so sandy…” Her voice trailed into giggles, unsuccessfully smothered.

The pain faded into glittering light, and he rolled onto his back. He found Abiene’s hand still on his side. She held her other hand across her mouth, tears and laughter spilling over it.

Jerric sighed and looked up at the hut’s exposed rafters. “I know this is only temporary. But we could stand a bigger bed.”

A bigger bed never hurt anyone. I have a queen size bed, and yet somehow my three-legged cat manages to push me into one little corner of it. How a little thing like him can hog the whole thing is beyond me.

I laughed at the little interaction at the end when Abiene accidentally - uh, kneed Jerric. A little bit of comic relief to balance all the angst that went before.

Poor Jerric - he doesn't understand where the storm is coming from. Typical man - thinks just because they talked about it rationally means that she's fine with their relationship being temporary. Rationally speaking, yes, she's fine with it. But emotionally speaking - uh, no. And it's the emotional part that Jerric is missing out on.

Illusion magic can be quite hard - after all, it's altering another being's state of mind, much as restoration is altering another being's state of - well, being. I always thought it odd that the game treats illusion as being easy to master, while restoration is appropriately difficult. Weird leveling system!

I'm liking Abiene more and more. The reason? Because she loves Jerric just the way he is, and doesn't try to change him. Apparently unlike most women I know, she recognizes that not only is it a futile waste of time, but also if she were to be successful in changing him, she would lose the thing about him that she loves so much in the first place.

“No, thank you! Seawater is dirty.”

“I’m surprised to hear you say that, considering where you’ll put your… That is to say, what you’re willing…” Abiene’s look did not encourage him to continue. “Never mind,” he concluded.

“That’s different.” She smiled up at him, sliding her hands back under his shirt. “I mean there’s the bedchamber, and then there’s what you’d put in the soup. I don’t mind seawater in the washbasin. I just don’t want to swallow it.”

Jerric decided to let that statement go unremarked upon. “I’ll try to remember to bring more water from town. I just keep forgetting the damn bucket.” He began to lose track of what they had been talking about. “Look, my head is killing me. Let’s open the wine.”


This is confusing...

I mean, where is she going to put what? The only thing I can think of connected to seawater is seamen - and it's not possible to swallow seamen, is it?

Huh?

Why is everybody coughing and choking?

Bah! This internet thing is too newfangled for old men like me. And that's why I hate typing on these computas. Why in the old days I would write everything down with pen on paper - and since my pen is quite thick and long, I could write for a long time - and of course the sensation of my pen in my gave me much more pleasure than typing...




Let that be a lesson to you Grits - awaken not the Daedra Dhirtee Innu Endo!!!!!!!

. . . my pen in my whut?

SPEW !!! ROFL !!! Abiene really knows how to kill a mood, ROFL !!! The evening would have been spectacular if she had just allowed Jerric to lead when he was humping her leg. Between her casting (what I am assuming was "Frenzy" on Jerric), crying, then kneeing him in the groin - GAAAAAH !!! She was all out of whack this night !!!

An Awesome write, you really delve into the frailty of Abiene and the inner strength of Jerric in this - huge !!!

Once again, you display a style that can best be described as silky. I love your ability to show your characters interacting so smoothly and naturally.

“You should say no to me!” She hit him on the stomach. “You should say no, because I won’t, I won’t say it! And you’re going to go, and I won’t be here when you return! And what if you don’t? How will I know what’s happened to you, if you never return?” Her words ended in ragged sobs.'
Perfectly done!

This episode was an absolutely magical blend of serious and sobering thoughts with light humor.

Jerric's nightmares about fire, teeth and claws sent a familiar shiver.

I have to say, I am not 100% up to speed on Jerric's story, but I have been enjoying it so much! I think my favourite bit so far was the prostitution episode in Skingrad - especially when Jerric asks the first guard 'Hello sir, are you a chapel-goer?' before turning to his more worldly comrade and simply stating 'A brothel.' Brilliant! Jerric is very easy to sympathise with - no saint, but very human. You have a great gift for humour, and I look forward to reading more of your story. Well done!

haute ecole rider: You’re right, he thought that since they both knew it, they didn’t have to talk about it. Um, nope. Thankfully his uncertainty let him do what she needed him to do, just shut up and hold on. I should have apologized in advance to all of the fellows for the accidental knee. It sure ended that conversation. You’re completely right about Abiene, changing Jerric is not in her playbook.

Foxy: What, did you say your pen is giving you much more pleasure than your computas? Maybe there is a way to use them both!

mALX: Abiene was definitely out of sorts. She was overdue for a meltdown. Poor Jerric got the knee, but at least it wasn’t another crying jag. I can see him writing a note on his arm for next time: Hump first, then learn spell.

Acadian: I remember Buffy’s dreams of a clannfear, yikes. She overcame her fear so beautifully when she became a Daedra Slayer. Hopefully Jerric will also get to the source of his worries. The elegant solutions provided by illusion magic seem to be out of his reach. For now he’s a still single serving of Nord in a can for a daedroth. Thank you for your kind words. Once folk start laughing and crying, it’s hard to get them to stop.

Ceidwad: Thank you, Ceidwad, I’m so glad you’re reading! There are some dark times coming from where you are in the story, but it’s not all gloom.

Where we are: In Anvil, training and earning some gold. Also, we may have intermittent short breaks brought to you by RL and summer, but we hope to be able to continue posting regularly.




Chapter 11 Holidays: Part 1


Jerric and Darnand passed through the tidy farmyard, scattering chickens as they went. A gaggle of grey geese raised their heads behind them, honking their remarks into the chilly air. Jerric turned and closed the gate behind them. He raised his hand in farewell to the Nord woman standing in the open doorway of her cottage. Rhano had been right. The years had not been kind to Maeva.

The two men headed back down the dirt track away from Whitmond. All of the farmhouses in the small community had been built clustered together, with their fields and pastures spreading around them. It made for a pleasant walk through cultivated land.

“What do you think?” asked Jerric.

“I think tackling a band of marauders by ourselves sounds reckless.”

“No, about Maeva.” Jerric knew his friend wasn’t ready to decide if he would do the job. He wanted to give him a little more time to think.

“You don’t see many dark-haired Nords.”

“Darnand, are you telling me you spent that whole time looking at her hair?”

“Well, I saw why they call her Maeva the Buxom.”

“Plus she has a set of hips that a man could hang on to," Jerric remarked. "She works that farm alone. She must be as strong as a horse.”

“It appears that she perspires like a horse. She is not overly pretty.”

“If you put a Nord on the Gold Coast, there’s bound to be some sweating, even in Evening Star. Anyway, she’s lonely, and I think she likes us. She likes me, at least. I guess that makes her pretty enough.” Jerric realized he had just summed up his general approach with women.

“She is married," Darnand pointed out. "Remember Bjalfi the Contemptible?”

“She’s married now. I don’t think this Bjalfi is going to hand over the mace and trot along home. ‘The Contemptible’ is no joke, leaving his woman is the worst kind of betrayal. Bjalfi is a disgrace.”

Darnand halted and stared at Jerric. “You would kill a man to get under his wife’s skirt?”

“Of course not! That’s a fine thing to say to me.” Jerric unclenched his fists as they continued down the path. “I’m just saying I can see how it might work out that way.” They passed a small flock of sheep headed slowly up the hill, tended by an old man and a young dog. The shepherd gave them a gap-toothed grin as they passed.

“The reward she could give us is nothing compared to what we could loot from the gang,” Jerric continued. “I mean salvage. They might even have some enchanted gear. I can’t do it alone; it would be foolish to try. I’ll need at least one other mage with me, and it would be best if we could find some sneaky archer.” Darnand already seemed to think of them as a team, but Jerric didn’t want to make assumptions.

“Penetrating a marauders’ fortress will require a different mindset than simply reacting to an attack on one’s person.”

“Yeah.”

“Is Fort Strand not within the Legion’s jurisdiction?”

“No, it’s County Anvil’s problem. The Legion won’t do anything without the right parchment from the castle, and no one who knows what’s going on up at the fort is alive to fill out the reports. Anvil Militia is busy patrolling for daedra and tending their winter crops, they’re not going to go looking for trouble in a ruin. And it’s way too far for the City Guard. It’s actually a pretty good spot to hole up, if you’re outside the law.” Dammit, Jerric thought. That was probably a little too much truth.

They made the turn onto the Gold Road and headed down toward the Anvil Main Gate. The sun had dropped low enough to shine in their eyes. Jerric’s thoughts turned to dinner. The Mages Guild always laid a good table. He gave himself an experimental sniff. Not good enough, he decided. Perhaps the Fighters Guild. He was in a mood for an evening of beer and storytelling. There was also The Flowing Bowl, of course. If he dined there he would only have a short stagger down the beach between his last ale and his pillow. Then Abiene quietly filled his mind. He imagined her with hunger in her eyes and the firelight golden on her skin. It was easy to stay silent and let Darnand think.

“I think we should recruit some help,” Darnand finally said. “There’s a Bosmer staying at the guild hall who is in need of coin. A hunter. She might be willing to come along.”

“A hunter in the Mages Guild?”

“I did not inquire as to what, or whom, she hunts. She is an archer and an illusionist, among other things.”

“That sounds perfect.”

Now that they had agreed to do the job, Jerric let his mind move on to other matters. He estimated the time it would take to walk the rest of the way to town, weighing it against the list of questions he had for Darnand.

Darnand spoke before he had chosen one. “I know that look. What is it that you would like to discuss?”

Jerric decided he should just stop wondering how Darnand guessed these things. “Well, I was just trying to pick a question.”

“Perhaps I can render assistance. What is the general subject?”

“Necromancy.”

“Ah. My understanding is still quite limited.” Darnand gave Jerric his thoughtful look. “Hmm… How do skeletons work, or How do you make a zombie?”

Jerric laughed out loud. He recognized his own inflection in Darnand’s phrasing. “How do skeletons work?”

“An excellent question. Please remember that my response only reflects my current understanding.”

“All right. Consider me advised.”

“The undead skeleton is a construct, made from mortal remains. During the enchantment ritual, the necromancer converts magicka into the life energy the skeleton requires to operate. He also imbues the skeleton with his own will to direct it. Part of the skeleton’s energy is used to maintain its structural integrity, while the rest allows the skeleton to carry out its function. The skeleton can be recharged with magicka like a weapon. Physically damaging it causes it to use up its energy repairing itself, eventually breaking the enchantment. Of course destroying it utterly suits the same purpose, it will deplete itself in an instant trying to repair catastrophic damage.”

“Do you think you could make one?” Jerric felt his stomach twist at the thought.

“I can imagine why you might think it possible.” Darnand’s expression looked more intense than usual. “That path has opened to me, but I will not take it. You must understand that even this knowledge could make me suspect, in the Guild’s current political climate. I would not have you admit what I have told you and by extension implicate yourself.”

Implicate myself in what, Jerric wondered. He decided to stick to the subject of skeletons. “That explains a lot. How they can lurch about for a century, then fall to pieces when you smack them with a hammer. And why they’re still hanging around places, even after their masters are gone.” Jerric glanced over at Darnand. His moment of concern seemed to have passed.

“We discussed trapping soul energy before. Do you suppose it is possible to trap a skeleton’s soul energy?”

Jerric thought for a moment. “Yeah, because it’s magicka from a necromancer being used instead of life energy. Wait, no, because it’s an animated construct that needs to be recharged.” He felt an unfamiliar sensation. It was his brow furrowing.

“An animated construct that can…” Darnand encouraged him.

“Cut your head off? No, wait! Repair itself! Like Abiene’s new restoration! So yes, you can trap the soul energy of a skeleton.” He looked over triumphantly.

Darnand gave him a small smile. “Indeed. Although I confess I have never done so.”

Jerric slowed his steps to buy more time. “What about the skeleton’s spirit?” he asked. “What does that do?”

“The mortal’s spirit would be gone long before the necromancer began to work with the remains. A zombie is a similar process, with a fresher body. The nature of the remains helps determine its use for the necromancer. And of course the enchantments used in their creation differ. I expect that something in the difference allows skeletons to wield weapons, while zombies rely upon unarmed attacks.”

Jerric looked down the road at the Main Gate. If he wanted more, he would have to be quick. “So the spirit could become a ghost?”

“The ethereal undead are spirits, the physical, constructs. That is of course an oversimplification. Some spirits are cursed by others to stay with their physical remains, or wherever the necromancer places them. Other spirits linger in this realm on their own. There is far more that I do not yet understand. Perhaps for now you have more questions regarding skeletons.”

“Yeah. My skeleton, Slim. When I summon him, I’m bringing the real him here from wherever he is, right?”

“Yes.”

“And the first time I used the spell to find him and make the connection, that time was different.”

“Yes. I expect you used a ritual to identify him. You will remember it was much more difficult.”

“Yeah.”

“It is of great interest to me that you found it so. For most, the difficulty of bringing the summons pales in comparison to their first struggle to control it.”

“Uh...”

“An academic side note. Please, continue.”

“So some day in some ruin, I could fight the real Slim.”

“It is unlikely, but possible.”

“Why doesn’t…” Jerric stopped to think about it first. “The energy he uses while he’s with me comes from me, from my magicka. Then he goes back to his original condition.” Jerric got the sick feeling back in his stomach. “Summoning is… Well, we couldn’t do that kind without necromancers.”

“Indeed. That is why summoning is considered a dark art. Why some stand against it.”

“Like Carahil.”

“Daedric summoning is considered no better by some. However, I would not wish to summon something that I held with affection to suffer and die on my behalf.”

“What about animals? Are they real bears from somewhere that spriggans summon?”

Darnand stopped in the road. “I am afraid this discussion requires far more time than the afternoon allows. I suggest we postpone it. For now, I have business with my horse.”

Jerric blinked, surprised by Darnand’s candor. Then he realized they were standing outside Horse Whisperer Stables. “You have a horse?”

Darnand raised an eyebrow. “Indeed.”

“Why didn’t we ride to Whitmond?”

Astonishment flooded Darnand’s face. “You invited me to walk to Whitmond with you.”

Jerric laughed. “And you’re supposed to be the smart one. Well, at least it’s a nice day. And the climb up the hill probably did you good.”

“I am certain that it stimulated your appetite. Shall I meet you at the guild hall, or would you like me to introduce you to my horse?” Jerric could see the smile in Darnand’s eyes.

“I’ll stay with you. One more thing.” Jerric felt a little like a child with his questions, but he was too curious to give up easily.

Darnand sighed. His eyebrows appeared to be engaged in some kind of struggle.

“Slim’s axe,” Jerric said quickly. “I’ve thought about giving him a better weapon. But then he might kill someone with it wherever he is.”

“Such actions are not without consequences. Though those who would seek out a necromancer’s lair should be prepared for the possibility of meeting a skeleton that has been armed and trained by a Nord Battlemage. So some day in some ruin, you might find a necromancer thanking you for your efforts.”

Jerric felt an instant of horror, then he laughed. “Now you’re messing with me.”

“Indeed. Let us go to the horses.”

Ai yi yi! I always thought summons were a piece of the spellcaster's magicka - an extension of their energy so to speak. But the way you describe it feels like it might be more effective. Hmmm, food for thought.

And Darnand has a horse?

My plan with Fort Strand always involved using the shadows and sneaking around, lots of camouflage and detect life spells.

What delightful banter between Jerric and Darnand! So they are considering a task in Fort Strand. And a Bosmeri huntress at the guild who is an illusionist? That sounds excitingly familiar, since you don't see too many mystic archers.

It was great fun to hear Darnand's thoughts on soul gem filling and summons. Very interesting and well-thought out.

As ever, just a real pleasure to read!


Oh my. I do have one sort of writing nit. It is a small one and quite subjective. To make matters worse, it takes a moment or two to explain. I see a tendency for you to minimize use of speech tags - to the point that it causes the reader to work a little bit to keep track of who is speaking. At least for me, that is slightly distracting. Here is an example where I would recommend a few more speech tags. Again, it is certainly possible to sort out who is speaking but additional speech tags would let it flow without having to think about it. ---

“Well, I saw why they call her Maeva the Buxom.”
“Plus she has a set of hips that a man could hang on to. She works that farm alone. She must be as strong as a horse.”
“It appears that she perspires like a horse. She is not overly pretty.”
“If you put a Nord on the Gold Coast, there’s bound to be some sweating, even in Evening Star. Anyway, she’s lonely, and I think she likes us. She likes me, at least. I guess that makes her pretty enough.”
“She is married. Remember Bjalfi the Contemptible?”
“She’s married now. I don’t think this Bjalfi is going to hand over the mace and trot along home. ‘The Contemptible’ is no joke, leaving his woman is the worst kind of betrayal. Bjalfi is a disgrace.”

Now, please remember that I pride myself on being a very simple writer. One of the casualties of that is that I read the same way. So. . . you can certainly ignore this and not hurt my feelings.

I like that discussion on summoning

I've caught up now. I love the fine detail you weave into your story and of course the witheringly hilarious humour. Your characters are marvellously alive on every page of your story and every page makes me laugh.

Some of my favourites from the last few pages:

[Abiene] rested her hand on Darnand’s shoulder and lifted her skirt to step over the bench. Jerric looked, hoping to catch a glimpse of thigh. Then he quickly looked away, hoping he hadn’t been caught.

Surely he got a good enough look before? Classic Jerric.

“What happened?” Gulitte asked Darnand eagerly. Darnand’s knuckles were still white on his kahve mug. Jerric considered kicking Gulitte, but he couldn’t get an angle.

Cursed geometry! Brilliant touch of detail there.

It could have been hours later, or only one. Jerric’s head pounded as if he had tried to drown himself in flin. His neck burned with tension, and his legs needed to run. Abiene looked ready to weep. He still had not learned any illusion magic.

“Once again,” Abiene said hopelessly.

“Never mind, I’ll keep using torches.”

The subtlety of illusion eludes Jerric? I guess that's the price he pays for being a jack of all trades rather than a full-time mage. But hey, as long as those trusty torches are around, who needs magicka? Love Abiene's feeling of exasperation here.

“You don’t see many dark-haired Nords.”

“Darnand, are you telling me you spent that whole time looking at her hair?”

“Well, I saw why they call her Maeva the Buxom.”

“Plus she has a set of hips that a man could hang on to," Jerric remarked. "She works that farm alone. She must be as strong as a horse.”

“It appears that she perspires like a horse. She is not overly pretty.”

Lovely rapport, as ever, between Jerric and Darnand. I wonder how Jerric would have Maeva exploit her horse-strength? Then again, probably shouldn't go there.....

And then I also enjoyed the discussion of necromancy and summoning. Very logical and well-thought through.

ROFL !!! Jerric is as natural as they come, and for once Darnand is the hilarious one, ROFL !!!



Loved that line! Jerric is used to thinking split-second on his feet, not pondering weighty matters, lol.

Darnand revealed a subtle humor in this chapter that rounded him out a bit!

Awesome Write !!!

Caught back up again. I am not surprised that Jerric reacted badly to his first taste of illusion magic. He is a man of direct action, the kind who does things with his own two hands. I can see why the idea of something that subtly alters his perceptions would unsettle him.

Also a nice bit of world-building with the summoning of undead. Isn't it interesting that you can only summon monstrous things in this game? I think the devs just did not want to go to the time and effort to create a 'good' class of summons, so they just recycled the daedra and undead instead.

So now Jerric and Darnand (and Buffy?) are an adventuring team? A nice bit of realism with the understanding that one person cannot hope to tackle a marauder fortress by themself. In the game of course, all your enemies are kind enough to spread themselves out, never use lookouts to warn of dangers, organize a defense against incursions, or pay any attention to the guy dying from arrow-fire right beside them. How refreshing to see a bit of reality instead!

haute ecole rider: I’m out on a limb a little with summoning, I’m glad it seems to work. Now that Jerric has someone who will answer his questions, he’s thinking more about magely matters. Sneak and snipe is how I always handle Fort Strand, too, as well as the Azura quest. Then along came Jerric with his heavy feet and shiny suit. He needs a different plan.

Acadian: You’re so right about that section you pointed out, I removed too many speech tags while I was editing. I always hope to make reading as free of distractions as possible, thank you so much for bringing that to my attention! I added a few speech tags to smooth that part out.

The Bosmer invasion continues! Jerric was lucky to find her, I hear that Bravil is the place for an archer to be this season. I’ve finally made her into a game character so that I would have a better idea how to write her, and we have been having so much fun. She is pretty much the opposite of Jerric! Darnand is finally enjoying Jerric’s company, I’m glad it showed.

Zalphon: I’m glad you liked it! I thought I should get the basics down before I start adding things.

Ceidwad: I think Jerric could always stand to see a little more. Thank you for your kind words, I’m so glad you’re enjoying the story! It’s fun to write Jerric and Darnand out in the world together, where Darnand is less likely to get annoyed by Jerric. I’m glad the necromancy/summoning worked for you, there are some fun things to add if I ever get to it.

mALX: It was fun to show Darnand loosening up a little. You are so right about how Jerric thinks! Thank you, mALX!

SubRosa: You have identified Jerric’s issue with illusion magic perfectly. Just about the worst thing he can imagine himself doing is acting on a lie, which is what illusion could do to him. I had to postpone the discussion of summoning animals until I figure out how to do it in the story, I think conjuration could provide all sorts of interesting spells. Hopefully this hunter can help shed some light. I love Teresa’s mountain lion in your videos! I agree, the game could have done a lot more with summoning.

Where we are: Planning an assault on the Fort Strand marauders.



Chapter 11 Holidays: Part 2


Jerric stood alone in the mages guild dining hall, waiting for Darnand to find the hunter. The tables had already been laid for the evening meal. Not for you, he reminded himself. You smell too much like work. Darnand strode into the room and stopped at Jerric’s side without speaking. A small figure followed him on silent feet.

Jerric quickly looked her over. She wore her dark hair pulled off her face into a high braid that hung down her back, he couldn’t see how far. Her skin looked browned by the sun, her eyes the light green of new leaves. Her delicate ears swooped up majestically, framing her heart-shaped face. Her fine features wore a calculating look. He thought that if he reached out and tweaked her adorable little nose the way he would like to, he would probably draw back a stump. Her erect carriage and springy stride reminded him of an acrobat. She looked trim and strong in her simple green dress. He guessed that under it, her shoulders and back would be tightly packed with muscle. Her front was nicely round, he noticed. There was much to admire in her diminutive frame. He decided that a better time to study it would be later.

“I’m Jerric,” he said.

“Lildereth.” Her voice made him think of clear water. She was examining him critically under a sharply angled brow.

“Pleased to meet you.”

“Couldn’t you find anyone bigger?” she asked Darnand. “A dead man could hear his footsteps.”

“You’ll be able to stand behind me and shoot between my knees,” Jerric told her.

“I’m sure you don’t even use your sword,” she retorted. “You just whip out your meat and beat them to death with it.”

Jerric’s eyebrows went up. “The mouth on you,” he breathed in admiration. Felen glanced over at them as he passed with his stack of books.

Darnand looked as if he was experiencing a pain. “Perhaps we might retire to a place where we can talk. I suggest the Count’s Arms.”

“How about The Flowing Bowl,” said Jerric. “Wilbur doesn’t like me. Plus the sun will be going down soon, and the best place to see it is the harbor.” The other two were giving him looks. “What?”

“Nothing,” said Darnand. “The Flowing Bowl, then. Let us proceed.”

“I want to check your gear,” Lildereth said to Jerric. “You keep everything here?”

“Yeah, in the basement.”

“Let’s go there first.”

Lildereth examined Jerric’s gear without comment. Jerric decided she was saving up her remarks for a venue less crowded with curious Associates. The basement workroom was buzzing with tense students trying to finish their tasks before dinner.

Soon she stepped back from Jerric’s cupboard and gave him a nod. He took that to mean she was satisfied, or at least finished looking. “You don’t need to show me yours,” he said to her with a grin. A sideways glance told him she was amused. “Let’s get over to the Bowl. I’m afraid you might not make it back here in time for dinner.”

She shrugged her reply. Jerric knew that Darnand was never concerned about his next meal. The three of them made their way Harborside to The Flowing Bowl.

The tables inside were crowded, and the air full of muttering. They found Caenlorn behind the bar, looking hassled. He slammed three bottles onto the planks without taking their order. “Beer!” he announced. “Take it or leave it! Meat’s not ready yet!”

Darnand put the coins down, and Jerric scooped up the bottles. “Do you have anything left from lunch?” Jerric asked Caenlorn.

Caenlorn’s eyes began to slightly protrude. His mouth worked violently, but no sounds made their way out. Jerric decided to flee before the mer got his tongue organized.

Lildereth led them upstairs and out a narrow door Jerric had never noticed. He followed her up a ladder to the Bowl’s flat roof. The spare furnishings told him that a select few regularly enjoyed the harbor’s sights from this semi-private perch. Lildereth quickly pulled three chairs together. She seated herself with a smile, indicating the vivid sky with the sweep of one hand.

“Sunset,” Jerric said, grinning. He handed her a bottle. Darnand took one and seated himself gingerly in the Bosmer-sized chair. Jerric simply sat down on the boards. He thought Caenlorn might have a fatal fit of temper if he broke something. The evening was too fine to ask for that kind of weight on his conscience.

Jerric could see ships’ masts and rigging, Anvil Castle, and the top of the lighthouse from his position on the roof. The railing around the street side appeared to be solid, but the fading light shone through at regular intervals through vertical slits. Jerric knew that from the street, the roof appeared to be peaked. This spot would make an excellent lookout over the harbor. He marveled that Lildereth had shown it to them.

Darnand sat back with his bottle in his hands, watching him. Jerric decided that meant he should do the talking. She hasn’t agreed yet, he reminded himself.

“There’s a Nord woman in Whitmond, name of Maeva the Buxom,” Jerric began. “She married a man named Bjalfi the Contemptible, if you can believe it. Her Fa gave them a family heirloom on their wedding day. Rockshatter, a mace. It’s enchanted with shock and weakness to shock, so you can guess it’s valuable. Also I wouldn’t want to get hit with it, at least not more than once. Anyway, this Bjalfi grabbed up the mace and ran off to Fort Strand to find his fortune with the marauders there. We’re assuming he’s alive and working with them. Maeva wants her mace back. She was unspecific as to what we should do with Bjalfi.”

Lildereth’s expression was hard for Jerric to read. She looks thoughtful, he decided.

“Are you hiring me, or would we be partners?” she asked.

Jerric glanced at Darnand. “Partners,” Darnand said. “Even split.”

“So I won’t get paid if we decide it’s a bad job.”

“No,” Darnand answered her. Jerric realized there was a lot he hadn’t considered.

“What do you know about the marauders?” she asked.

“Nothing yet,” said Darnand. “I expect we should watch the fort for at least a day to get an idea of their numbers. Jerric will ask around at the Fighters Guild to see if he can get an idea how the ruin is laid out underground. He trusts that no one there would be in contact with the gang. The reward from Maeva will be minimal. We anticipate selling what we find in the fort.”

Lildereth looked thoughtful some more. “I know what you can do,” she said to Darnand. Then her eyes went to Jerric. “And I’ve heard of you. What else should I know?”

Jerric’s mind went to the lava tunnels he had passed through in the Deadlands. “I’m not so great underground,” he admitted. He hoped he didn’t look as uncomfortable as he felt. “I get lost sometimes. I can find my way back once I come across something I’ve killed, though. I just need landmarks.”

Lildereth’s expression didn’t change. “I suppose you’re not much of a liar,” she remarked. “We need to go through some caves first for practice. There are plenty along the coast. I’d like to see how you move before I agree to this job.” She looked over at Darnand. “You too, I don’t want a fireball in my back if you get jumpy.”

“Fair enough,” said Jerric. Darnand nodded.

“Do you have questions for me?” she asked.

Darnand answered first. “Felen vouched for you. Should concerns arise, I will surely ask you to address them.”

“I’ll know what I think when I see you shoot,” Jerric told her. He knew Lildereth would not take that as an insult. “I guess a cave trip is a good idea, even if we don’t run up against anything more fearsome than a mudcrab.”

Lildereth made a decisive nod. “About your gear, Nord. Whatever we plan, we will rely on stealth. I’m not taking you into the shadows in plate armor and mail. You make enough noise just breathing.” She looked him straight in the eye. “I’m not asking about your helm, but I could tell it’s enchanted.”

Jerric had been expecting this complaint. Her expression had said a lot when she examined his armor. “I’ll talk to Morvayn about some leather. You’re right about my helm, that could make up the difference. What else?”

“Can either of you cast a spell of silence?” she asked them.

“You mean curse someone’s magicka?” said Jerric.

“No, a spell to magically dampen the sounds that you make.”

Jerric glanced at Darnand. He looked as surprised as Jerric felt. Darnand gave his head a small shake. “Uh, no,” said Jerric. “Sounds like illusion magic.”

“It is.” A shadow passed over Lildereth’s face, and then it was gone. She ran a scathing glance over Jerric. “It would be useful for someone like you.”

Jerric shook his head. “It would have to come from a scroll or a potion. My head’s not made for illusion.”

“Such a spell would be of interest to me,” Darnand told her. “Perhaps we can discuss it at a later time.”

Lildereth gave Darnand another brisk nod. “Let’s talk about potions,” she said to Jerric. “I have all the poisons I’ll need. In addition to the usual restoratives, I would suggest you bring some to provide a chameleon effect, to help keep you hidden. If we get in a real scrape, you’ll be the one out there trading steel. They won’t be able to find me, if I’m doing my job. I suppose you’re familiar with shield magic.” She looked over at Darnand. “Mage?”

“If it comes to fighting, I shall conjure a daedra to increase our number, then fall back with fire spells. Perhaps a fire atronach. You might absorb any stray attacks, Jerric, and her fire will make it harder for the enemy to distinguish her attacks from mine.”

When Darnand finished speaking, Lildereth looked back over at Jerric.

“I could spin a fancy tale, but what I’ll likely do is summon Slim and go in swinging,” Jerric said. “Maybe I should summon Precious, though, if we’re using fire to confuse them.”

Lildereth’s eyebrows went up, and her lush little mouth began to form a question.

“Slim is a skeleton. Precious is his scamp,” Darnand said to Lildereth. “Are you able to summon an ally?”

“A skeleton,” she said ruefully. “But I can’t always control her. She might attack either one of you.”

“She?” Darnand and Jerric both asked. They shared a skeptical glance.

“Yes, she. Why not? Must you humans assume that all dangerous creatures are male? Besides, I can tell from her pelvis that she was once a woman.”

“Oh,” said Darnand. His expression said the rest.

“Ugh,” Jerric agreed. He decided he didn’t want to know any more about that subject.

“We should discuss security issues,” said Darnand. “Specifically, how we will examine the contents of locked containers. I have some alteration magic, but my spells are unreliable.” Both men looked at Lildereth.

“I don’t suppose you’re a locksmith,” she remarked to Jerric.

He laughed. “I hope I don’t insult you by assuming that you are.”

Lildereth gave a small smile. For an instant she looked hauntingly beautiful, then her business expression slid back into place. “How will you two see in the dark? Their living quarters will doubtlessly be well-lit, but getting there unseen will be critical.” She paused, looking straight at Jerric. “What I mean is, no torches.”

“I have the appropriate spell,” Darnand said.

Jerric sighed and shook his head. “So far I’m not bringing much to this party.”

Lildereth gave him another candid look. She spoke with crisp precision. “If I am able to work as I plan, you will be needed only to carry home the salvage. If I am not, you are the most likely to see your blood on the floor. That is the nature of our respective roles.”

“Uh, right.” Jerric saw that Lildereth was still watching him expectantly. “Oh, I have a ring that will let me see life energy. I can follow your life signs, and use a potion if I need to watch my footing. I guess I’ll be keeping my calcinator hot while you take your turn watching the fort. Any idea what I would need to make a potion of silencing like that spell you mentioned?”

“No,” Lildereth replied quietly. “I learned the spell in Valenwood, from a Khajiit. Perhaps an alchemist from Elsweyr would have a better idea.”

Her expression brought more questions to his mind, but Jerric knew they would have to wait. He looked a little harder at Lildereth. She didn’t appear any older than he was, but he knew that meant next to nothing. This isn’t your Running Wolf team, he reminded himself. Working together doesn’t make you friends. After the job, you may never see this elf again. Forget about what might make her look sad.

“A cave, then,” Darnand spoke up. His eyes were on the Bosmer. “Do you have a suggestion?”

Lildereth smiled wider this time. “I know just the one.”

Jerric's huge appetite keeps me rolling, you pop it in at the funniest times! Lildereth is certainly an interesting addition, I like this trio, it is bringing out the best in Darnand and Jerric both - I love seeing the two of them back working side by side again, they play so well off each other. Awesome Chapter, and intriguing !!

Wonderful! Jerric and Darnand were brilliantly true to form, but Lildereth really stole the show here. You so perfectly capture the mindset of an elven huntress, exemplified in these two passages:

"If we get in a real scrape, you’ll be the one out there trading steel. They won’t be able to find me, if I’m doing my job."

“If I am able to work as I plan, you will be needed only to carry home the salvage. If I am not, you are the most likely to see your blood on the floor. That is the nature of our respective roles.”

For good reason, she is cautious, skittish and extremely detailed in her planning - right down to requiring a rehearsal with her potential partners.

You did a beautiful job with this three way dialogue. Your supporting mannerisms and actions were perfectly natural and it was totally clear who was speaking at all times. So nice in fact, that it was quite easy to just melt right into the dialogue - especially the roof top exchanges.

DANG...and friend Acadian has preempted most of what I was gonna say!

Grits - you DO have a gift for dialogue. Ever thought of becoming a screenplay writer?

And now, the obligatory DFoxy sixth grader humour:

“I’m sure you don’t even use your sword,” she retorted. “You just whip out your meat and beat them to death with it.”

I thought men were supposed to beat their meat by THEMSELVES???

Acadian already commented on the things I noticed, specifically Lildereth. She sounds like the sort of heroine I usually write - tough, competent, and mysterious. I really liked her and thought her addition added something to an already fantastic story.

And Foxy, sometimes men need a little help beating their meat, know whut ah mean?

mALX: Thank you, mALX! Jerric gets his appetite from my brother, and other athletes I have known. My brother once looked up from his plate and said, “I’m still hungry, but I’m so tired of chewing!” I’m glad you like Lildereth so far. She has been waiting since the winter for her chance to get in the story.

Acadian: Thank you, Acadian! Your approval of Lildereth means so much! Her skill set is of course very much inspired by Buffy. Bravil’s blonde Bosmeri bowgirl is so different from Jerric, she is an ongoing source of fascination.

D. Foxy: Thank you, Foxy! About the meat, I think you must be right. Perhaps someone should do some research to be sure.

haute ecole rider: I’m so glad you liked Lildereth, and you describe her just as I see her. She’s still a little mysterious to me! Thank you, haute!


Where we are: Jerric, Darnand, and Lildereth have planned a practice run before they take on the Fort Strand marauders.



Chapter 11 Holidays: Part 3

Jerric leaned against the dining hall’s door frame, waiting for Darnand to finish speaking with Abiene. The two of them stood with their heads bent slightly together. Both of them had their arms crossed over their chests. Darnand wore the intent expression that usually indicated he was deeply involved in his work, and an excellent target for a prank. Abiene’s pink cheeks and sweet mouth filled Jerric’s mind with a rush of distracting images. He wrenched his attention back with an effort.

They make a handsome couple, he noticed. Both of them dark-haired and elegant. They even sound good together. Their voices rose and fell in the lilting cadence that he associated with Bretons. They mostly sound that way when they’re talking to each other, he realized.

Darnand turned and started toward him, and Abiene looked over at Jerric behind his back. Her dark eyes seemed to fill with promise.

“Have you made your preparations?” Darnand asked him. He raised an eyebrow. “I am certain that smile is not for me.”

“It’s a great day for a walk up the coast,” Jerric said hastily. He reached out and thumped Darnand’s shoulder to distract him. “Where’s Lildereth?”

“Right behind you,” said Lildereth. Jerric flinched in surprise.

“All right,” Jerric said. “Let’s go.” He nodded his farewell across the room. “Abiene.”

Abiene’s warm smile included all of them. “May Stendarr guide your steps, my friends.”

It was indeed a great day for a walk up the coast, Jerric decided. Lildereth led them along the grassy hills behind the dunes. The air was cool enough to keep him from sweating. The sun sparkled on the water off to their left, and the breeze coming from the sea felt playful. Lildereth turned inland before he even wanted a snack. They walked for only a few more minutes before she stopped them. She looked up at the hillside, pointing. “There,” she said.

Jerric stood looking up at a square opening in the sandy bank. The dressed stone surrounding the entrance appeared to be intact, but the ground had fallen or washed away under it. An ugly scramble up to get in, he thought. Or a drop down from above.

Lildereth spoke beside him. “It’s an old sewer. I’ve been through some of the passages, but not into the vaulted areas that must lie beyond. The life signs in there moved like undead. Should be an easy morning for you two.” Her glance took in both Jerric and Darnand, then returned to Jerric. “Or I know some dry caves we could walk through instead.”

“Um.” Jerric started talking before he could think what he would say. He didn’t want Darnand to have a chance to say no yet. “Looks like… Maybe… Ayleid.” Lildereth’s expression informed him how he sounded. “Garlas Malatar? That must be miles away.”

She blinked and twisted her lips into her half-smile. “Well, it seems you don’t carry all of your brains in your trousers. The ruin above ground is some distance from here, you’re right. I can’t confirm that this sewer connects to the chambers underground there. But I believe it was part of the same city.”

Jerric tried to keep his battling thoughts from reaching his face. He would never go into such a place on his own, but he longed to know what was in there. He tried to think what might tempt Darnand.

“Let us enter the passage,” Darnand said, to Jerric’s surprise. His expression looked bland. Jerric decided he must be concealing his own internal struggle. “We will proceed in the manner we discussed. Lead us as far as you have explored, if you please. At that time we will evaluate whether to continue.”

Lildereth turned and immediately began her nimble ascent to the opening. Jerric followed her more slowly, and with considerably more swearing. He heaved himself up onto his knees in the stone passage. Lildereth knelt inside watching him, as still and silent as one of the shadows. To Jerric’s shock, Darnand was right behind him.

“What the… Did you levitate or something?” Jerric asked him.

A guilty look flashed over Darnand’s face, quickly replaced by indignation. “Levitation is illegal in Cyrodiil,” he stated.

Lildereth’s expression remained shrouded. “Check your gear,” she said quietly. “Then we’ll go.”

Jerric stood and rearranged his weapons. His new leathers were surprisingly comfortable, and quiet. He drew Atronach’s Redeemer and tested the space in the passageway. A thigh-deep channel ran through the middle of the floor, leaving plenty of space to walk on either side. But not enough to fight, Jerric decided. I need to pick up a shorter blade. He thought wistfully of Chillrend. Lildereth waited on the left side of the passage. Jerric secured his helmet and nodded to her.

Spells flickered in the dim light, and Jerric knew they were about to move. Belatedly he dug in his pocket for his brass ring. When he slipped it on, pinkish halos surrounded Darnand’s robed figure and Lildereth’s crouching form. Jerric blinked and shook his head, trying to get used to it. He always removed the ring before daedra got this close to him. There’s nothing alive in here, he thought irritably. I could just use a damned torch. Then he sighed inwardly. It’s practice, he reminded himself. He followed Darnand’s glowing shape into the darkness.

Stepping cautiously through the black, Jerric had plenty of time to wonder what insects or reptiles were making those surreptitious noises all around him. Their life signs were too faint for him to see until he passed right under or beside them. Spider webs and roots brushed continuously over his face and helmet until he learned to crouch under Darnand’s height. He was surprised that there was no dank smell or sound of dripping water. Just a slight odor that he remembered from somewhere. Finally he was able to identify it from memories of childhood. It was the smell that rose up from digging in damp sand.

Several times Darnand signaled that he should be cautious with his footing, and Jerric had to gingerly feel his way over thick roots or fallen stone blocks. I’ll use a potion if we need to get out of here in a hurry, he decided. That means I should make sure I still have one.

He found that Darnand and Lildereth had stopped. Jerric dropped to one knee next to them.

“We are approaching an open gateway,” Lildereth told them softly. Jerric noticed that somehow she could speak without the harsh sibilants usually caused by whispering. “When we reach the chamber beyond, I will go on alone to scout. One hallway slopes upward and ends at a closed door. We will make our plan when I return from there. If I wave you back, that means we need to regroup farther down the passageway we came through. Do not get turned around in there, Nord. There are three other sewer branches that meet in this area.” Jerric found his inability to see her expression unnerving.

“I shall remain here as well,” Darnand remarked to Jerric. “I shall inform you if a situation arises that requires you to take a sight potion.” Jerric remembered that the two of them could see his face.

“All right,” Jerric said. He felt ill at ease in the dark, but less than he would have thought. “How did I sound back there?” he asked Lildereth.

“Like a pack of blind snow bears.” Her tone relayed her disgust.

“I’m not wearing real armor,” Jerric objected. He thought he had sounded rather stealthy.

“Your shield is metal,” she told him. “So are your hilts and buckles. When one meets another, it makes a noise. When you slide your feet, you make the sound of a deer carcass being dragged over dry leaves. Here is my first set of recommendations. Make more potions to see in the dark. You must reserve one today for a possible rapid retreat. But when we proceed in the presence of a threat, you must be able to see. Place your forward foot down quietly before you shift your weight, both of you. No more sliding, big man, and be aware of your boot heels. Mage, your robe flaps like a loose sail in the wind. Close-fitting shirt and trousers next time. And breathe through your mouth, Nord. Only the gods know how you are able to move air through that nose, but everyone on this plane can hear it.”

Jerric nodded. He didn’t really have anything to add, other than his hope that she would call Darnand “little man.” Lildereth’s glow faded as she moved away from them. He listened for the quiet stone snick of an Ayleid door closing, but he heard nothing.

While they waited he turned his eyes toward where he thought the unexplored passageways would be, watching for approaching life signs. Then he realized that if she thought an enemy might come from there, Lildereth would have told them. He found that he couldn’t judge time in the dark. It felt like they had waited long enough for Lildereth to be captured, butchered, cooked, and eaten. He was not pleased with the turn his thoughts had taken. “I’m going after her,” he said to Darnand.

“I’ll go first,” Darnand whispered back. “I’ll use a chameleon spell. I’ll call you if we need you.”

That confirmed Jerric’s thought that it had been too long. He made a chopping gesture. “Forget it. It’s too dangerous. We have no idea what’s in there.” Jerric drank a potion of night-eye, and the stone passage blinked into blue light around him. Darnand still appeared as an annoying glow, hunched on his knees. Jerric kept his ring on anyway. He started up the sloping hallway after Lildereth, joints stiff from kneeling.

Darnand grabbed Jerric’s arm, but Jerric simply hauled him along as he walked. “Wait!” Darnand hissed. “You’re too loud, you’ll give her away!”

“We’ll just wait in the entrance, then.” Jerric stopped at the door. A bright glow indicated that something stood right on the other side. Before he could decide what to do, the door silently opened. Lildereth slipped through and closed it behind her. Once she moved to his side, he could see several life signs moving slowly on the other side of the door.

“Zombies,” Lildereth said on a breath. “They didn’t see me. Get away from the door. We might as well knock if you two are going to stand out here arguing.”

She continued speaking when they had reached junction. “There’s a single large chamber beyond, with closed doors in the far wall. Five zombies are wandering around inside. There is adequate light from those little glow stones set in wall panels. The floor is clear in the center, but stay away from the walls. This may be the outer perimeter of someone’s operation. I don’t expect anyone uses the sewer as a regular entrance, there must be some other way up to the surface. This is probably only a rear guard, or even a place someone keeps their pets out of the way. Regardless, I’d like to see you two take down those zombies.”

Her eyes looked oddly pale to Jerric in his potion’s light. He decided that Lildereth appeared calm and alert. Darnand seemed excited and a little nervous. Jerric tested his own emotional state. He felt slightly worried. He hoped the zombie smell wouldn’t make him vomit in front of Lildereth.

He noticed she was giving him a sharp look. “I know it was your idea to follow me, Nord,” she said crisply. “Don’t do it again.”

“Right,” Jerric said. He guessed she wouldn’t want to hear any explanations.

“I was attempting to go first,” Darnand told her. Jerric appreciated the loyalty at the same time he wanted to punch Darnand for continuing the subject.

“Only because you didn’t think you could stop him,” Lildereth said to Darnand. “It’s hard to believe you’ve never used a spell to paralyze him. He’s tempted me, and I’ve only known him a few days.”

Jerric was speechless. Apparently so was Darnand.

“Well, when you do it,” she continued in a conversational tone, “Make sure you let him breathe before you hit him with it a second time.”

Darnand muttered something that sounded like “Atronach.”

“One more thing,” Lildereth told them. “You noticed those bones that we passed, kicked down into the drain channel? Well there are more bodies in this chamber, pushed to the sides. You don’t just stroll into these places and pick gold up off the ground. Part of our pay is the gear left by the fools who came here before us. That big blade of yours looks expensive, Jerric. Let’s try not to leave it here on the floor for the next fetchers.”

That’s the first time she’s called me by my name, Jerric realized. He grinned at her. “I’m not worried. I know you won’t leave my sword lying here in the dark.”

Lildereth gave her quirky smile again. Then she headed back toward the door.

First of all... your talent for characterization through dialogue just keeps growing and growing, Grits, just like my -



- er - er -

...err.... regard for your abilities! (Foxy promises an interlude full of pain to his inner pervert after finishing this post)

Just listen to these jewels:

She blinked and twisted her lips into her half-smile. “Well, it seems you don’t carry all of your brains in your trousers. The ruin above ground is some distance from here, you’re right. I can’t confirm that this sewer connects to the chambers underground there. But I believe it was part of the same city.”

and this:

“Like a pack of blind snow bears.” Her tone relayed her disgust.

and, of course, T.H.I.S...

“Only because you didn’t think you could stop him,” Lildereth said to Darnand. “It’s hard to believe you’ve never used a spell to paralyze him. He’s tempted me, and I’ve only known him a few days.”

Jerric was speechless. Apparently so was Darnand.

“Well, when you do it,” she continued in a conversational tone, “Make sure you let him breathe before you hit him with it a second time.”

Beware, beware, Lildereth....don't you know that one of the first signs of passion in a woman for a man is when she is tempted to bonk him one over the head because he won't do as she says? Ask Athynae!

Oh, and Lildee girl...you know all that talk you keep spouting about Jerric's meat and trousers? Ahem. Cough cough...Freudian Slips...the subconcious is usually way ahead of the concious and all, you know...cough cough...

Yes... all that dialogue makes us see Lildereth so well.

Jerric, too, comes across more and more 'Jerric' - big, clumsy, hungry, horny, honest, humble, happy-go-lucky and helluvivaciously handsome in a humonguously hunky, ham-handed, hirsuite, honey-sweet way - HOO boy! I bet there be puh-lentee of wimmins feeling a warm buzz in thar-all New Mexico regions after reading about yer hero!

And now, the finale:

Jerric realized. He grinned at her. “I’m not worried. I know you won’t leave my sword lying here in the dark.”

Yep, Jerric has realized all right. Time to take the sword out of the trousers - er er err scabbbard! I meant scabbard! (How the hell did you get out? Just you wait!!!) so that it can get out of the dark...

I have to admit that I'm liking Lildereth more and more. The way she handles Jerric is awesome! Just enough to keep him off balance, but not so much to reduce him to a blabbering pile of self-pitying tears. And of course, his Macho is acting up in response, and he resolves (likely subconsciously) to do better so he can raise her esteem of him. Excellent!

I seem to get the sense that Darnand is rather oblivious to all of this, though he does make an effort to demonstrate his loyalty to Jerric, albeit belatedly.

This note is copied and pasted on everyone whose story I am having to neglect for a few days - mainly because my eyes are burning too badly to keep looking at the screen :


"I'll be back!" (spoken in an Arnold voice). I haven't had time to read this week - way too much going on, my week has been hectic as H !! When I have gotten any free time my eyes and mind were burned out, lol. I'll be back to read this when I get a bit of a break in the rat-race pace around here. (sorry about that )

“All right,” Jerric said. He felt ill at ease in the dark, but less than he would have thought. “How did I sound back there?” he asked Lildereth.

“Like a pack of blind snow bears.” Her tone relayed her disgust.

“I’m not wearing real armor,” Jerric objected. He thought he had sounded rather stealthy.

Pfft. What does a Bosmer know about being a Nord? Nice comparison of how two individuals can view the same event entirely differently.

Her eyes looked oddly pale to Jerric in his potion’s light. He decided that Lildereth appeared calm and alert. Darnand seemed excited and a little nervous. Jerric tested his own emotional state. He felt slightly worried.

I love how Jerric has to stop and think about how he feels! That is one slow-thinking Jerric!

This scene was a paradox! Candid glimpses into thoughts and actions, the parties involved unaware (Darnand mostly). Subtly simple scene - but huge in the complexity of the relationships between the three. HUGE scene you wrote here, AWESOME !!!!




ROFL !!!

Lildereth's instructions on sneaking to the two of them had me in stitches!



ROFL !! Lildereth is a perfect addition to this story, and is bringing out the best examples of why I love the way Jerric and Darnand play off each other when they are together. When Abiene is the third party the boyish comaraderie between them is stifled by the intrigue of secrets and desires.

It is amazing how complex you have made your characters, and how real their personalities are! This chapter really showcases your talent and ability, Awesome !!! This may be my all time favorite chapter to date, and it has had some very tough competition for that position!!

'Lildereth turned inland before he even wanted a snack.'
No one else but Jerric could measure time in terms of food. It is testimony to how vividly you bring him to us that such a comment seems as natural as eating a sweet roll.

'Lildereth’s expression informed him how he sounded.'
Once again, I'm so impressed by how beautifully you weave your connective passages into your dialogue.

Lildereth thinks so very much like, well, a Bosmer! Working in the shadows is so second nature to her. How wonderfully you bring each of your characters to life. Each in their own way in this episode, but it was a joy to see Abiene, Darnand, Lildereth and of course our lovable Nordic hero (the blind snow bear/big man himself).

Nit? 'The dressed stone surround appeared to be intact, but the ground had fallen or washed away under it. '
Something seems to be missing here? Perhaps '…surrounding the entrance appeared to be…' ?

Meat’s not ready yet!
Well given Lildreth's earlier comment, I think Jerric can provide that...

Nice display of professionalism on the parts of Lildreth and Darnand. Jerric seems to still have a bit to be desired there. But at least he knows it. What a stark, and welcome, contrast to the game, where the only strategy you need is walk here, kill that, repeat.

Lildreth is about as friendly as a badger having a bad day. I wonder if she is always so abrasive, of if it is just the thought of her getting killed because Jerric and Darnand are not stealthy enough? I suppose only time will tell.

D.Foxy: Jerric’s sword might argue that it prefers to stay snugly encased in the dark. Scabbard, that is. But we all know how it likes to come out and play. I think Lildereth must have an inner redhead. Thank you for your comments on the dialog! Sometimes it seems I’m just writing down what they say. Now we’ve reached a point where they’re going to have to shut up and fight. Lildereth is pretty much the opposite of Jerric, I think the contrast is what makes him more “Jerric” in this segment. Your description of him made me smile!

haute ecole rider: You have described what Lildereth is doing perfectly, I love it! You’re right, Darnand is oblivious to Lildereth’s management of Jerric. He’s still thinking about how he’ll adjust to combat without getting killed or accidentally killing his teammates. He’s a long way from the summoning chamber now.

mALX: Thank you so much for pointing out that little opening scene. It was just people looking at each other, and I was worried that the point wouldn’t come across. You’re right, Lildereth and Darnand let Jerric stay in the moment, but he has to govern himself when Abiene is around. And we know that doesn’t come easily to him. Thank you for your kind words, mALX!

Ceidwad: Sitting around and chatting while the enemy is within charging distance is a new one for Jerric. He usually wouldn’t think until he was through the door, and then it would be a different kind of thinking. Given time to plan, he’s having a little trouble separating out the relevant information. I’m glad you noticed that!

Acadian: You’re right about the “surround,” I described the entrance as if it was a fireplace. Oops! Thank you, I changed it. Your kind words about our friends in Anvil warmed my heart. And to hear that Lildereth thinks like a Bosmer from one who carries an elf on his shoulder, well that was just wonderful!

SubRosa: I didn’t think of that, I’m sure Jerric is always ready to provide the meat. Lildereth as a grumpy badger made me chuckle. She certainly does not serve her remarks with a sugar coating. No one would mistake her for a diplomat! You are spot on with her concern that the other two might get her killed, especially the Nord. I’m happy to hear that the departure from the game is welcome. Hero or not, there are so many things that he would just not be able to reasonably do on his own!


Where we are: Jerric, Darnand, and Lildereth are creeping up on some zombies in an Ayleid ruin. Some more quietly than others.



Chapter 11 Holidays: Part 4

Jerric moved smoothly into the room, with Darnand behind him. Jerric broke to the right the way they had planned. The stench hit him, and he gagged a little. His mouth filled with cold spit. You can throw up later, he told himself. The zombies were spread throughout the chamber, and there was plenty of open space to move. Jerric glanced over to make sure Darnand was in position. They both kept to the wall, with the zombies in the middle. The zombies hadn’t noticed them. Darnand gave Jerric a quick nod.

Jerric summoned Precious at the same time a flame atronach whooshed into the space in front of Darnand. Precious flung its grotesque head back and chortled its delight. With a wave of his arm, Jerric sent the scamp at one of the middle zombies. Flares filled the chamber with their distinctive sound and orange light, telling Jerric that Darnand had begun. Jerric picked out the two zombies remaining on his side of the chamber. He bathed each of them with his fire spell as he closed with the first one. Redeemer sang in his hand, sending a jolt of pure joy through him. Take them down quickly, he told himself. This is not a game.

The first zombie reached him, its fur still smoldering from Jerric’s flare. It raised its arms with a shuddering groan. Its lower jaw was missing, leaving a gaping hollow under the Khajiit snout. Jerric stepped neatly to the side as it attacked, running his blade across the zombie’s abdomen through to the backbone. Nothing came sliding out.

His second zombie had its arms raised to attack him, about three running steps away. Take them down first, Jerric thought. Let them wear themselves out until we finish them on the ground. He moved around to his right as the first zombie turned. The center of the room was a blaze of flame and smoke. He saw Darnand cast a ball of fire. When the second zombie reached him, Jerric dodged the downward strike and circled quickly around. His back to the room, he made his slashes at the zombie’s knees. The creature didn’t fall.

Jerric danced back toward the wall again, readying his fire spell. He glanced over the room as he sent another pair of flares at the zombies. Precious and the flame atronach were still at work, and he could see Darnand. He renewed his grip on the Wolf shield and readied for another strike with his sword.

This time he lunged back when the zombie attacked, then brought Redeemer down across both of its arms. Pieces of zombie fell to the floor. He stepped back and recovered his balance. The smoldering Khajiit was behind this zombie, pushing against its back. Jerric twisted his hips and slashed at the leading zombie’s knees. He scrambled back as it toppled toward him.

To his surprise, the Khajiit zombie stepped over its fallen companion without tripping. Jerric heard his scamp’s death squawk and quickly called it back from the Void. He kept his eyes on the Khajiit zombie as he backed away from it. A wave of his sword returned Precious to the fight.

Jerric timed his strike the same way against this zombie, waiting for the pause as it recovered its balance to slash its legs out from under it. With his two opponents thrashing and groaning on the floor, Jerric took a moment to check on the rest of the battle.

He saw Darnand throw fire at a flaming zombie, then run a few steps to avoid its attack. Two dark shapes lay motionless in the middle of the room. Precious and the flame atronach were engaged in a leaping, fiery struggle against each other.

Darnand is doing well, he decided. This is a good chance to try out my new spell. Too bad I’ll have to touch the damned thing.

Both of Jerric’s zombies were upright again, only now they were slowly sliding forward on their knee stumps. Jerric put down his sword and readied the spell.

After the first instant of disgust, Jerric felt a surge of pure elation as the energy that animated the undead thing rushed into him. He cast the spell again before the zombie slumped to the floor. As he stepped back to compose himself, he caught Darnand’s eye. The room had gone quiet and empty of summonings. “That is a good spell,” Jerric breathed.

Darnand walked over. “You made peace with Gulitte,” he stated. His voice sounded calm, but very tight.

“Yeah.”

“That is more than I have been able to do.”

“Darnand,” Jerric said fervently, “You’ve got to try it.”

The remaining zombie let out a gurgling groan. Jerric felt for his magicka. Too low. He picked up his sword and slashed the zombie’s chest until it fell.

The room was silent again. Jerric slipped his ring back on for a moment, but nothing was approaching. Lildereth and Darnand were already in front of him.

“Did you use a spell to turn one of them?” Lildereth asked Darnand. Jerric’s guts gave a powerful heave. He swallowed it down. The greasy smoke in the room was slowly rising to the high ceiling, but the smell was still thick. His hand remembered touching rotten skin.

“I did,” Darnand replied calmly. “It would be useful to—”

Jerric bent over and hurled the contents of his stomach onto the stone floor. The sound of splashing covered the rest of Darnand’s statement. “I beg your pardon,” Jerric coughed, with as much dignity as he could muster. He turned his head and spit a few times to clear his mouth.

“It would be useful to have them turn on one another instead of fleeing,” Darnand continued without comment. They all stepped a few paces away from the puddle. To Jerric’s relief, Lildereth neither gagged nor laughed at him. She held out her canteen, still looking at Darnand. Wait, Jerric thought. That’s my canteen. He took it from her and rinsed his mouth. “I will give the matter some thought,” Darnand finished.

Lildereth’s eyes went to Jerric. “The way you move when you fight. Why don’t you always move that way?”

“Well, that would be, uh, tiring.”

“I mean when we’re trying not to be heard or seen.” She stepped over and put her hands on him. “Keep your muscles tight here, and loose here. Firm but not rigid. Balance like you’re about to strike when you step. You’ll be lighter on your feet.”

That made a lot of sense to Jerric. “Yeah, I can do that. I won’t be very fast, though.”

“You don’t need to be fast unless you’re noisy. Then we’ll all have to be fast.”

“Right,” Jerric said. He grinned at her and slapped himself on the stomach. “Maybe you could show me where I should stay tight one more time.”

Lildereth looked over at Darnand and rolled her eyes. Darnand smiled at his feet. Jerric laughed. “I’m glad you don’t take offense easily,” he remarked.

“I’m glad you don’t either,” she said lightly. Her attention went to Darnand. “You trapped their souls.”

“Two of them,” Darnand replied. “At this point we need the magicka more than we need coin.” He reached into his belt pouch and handed a gem to Jerric. “I should save it for Fort Strand, if at all possible. I doubt any of the gang will have the courtesy to attack you with spells.”

Jerric nodded his thanks. “How could there be any energy left to trap?” he asked. It had seemed clear when they discussed it before, but now he was confused again.

“I expect it is released from the enchantment itself when it is broken,” Darnand said to him. “You will recall that the will of the necromancer—”

“Let’s save the lecture,” said Lildereth. “Keep the noise down, and watch our exit.” She moved through one of the doors without a sound.

Once he had wiped down his gear, Jerric poked through the remains along the chamber’s walls. He made a small pile of salvageable items near the door. The bodies had been stripped of their armor and left to rot, but the equipment had been discarded nearby. Maybe whoever made the zombies is going to use them for new skeletons, Jerric thought. He couldn’t think of any way to identify who they had been, or even accurately guess how long they had lain here. Their gathered bits of metal looked pitiful to him. They must have come in here looking for trouble just like we did, he thought.

He picked up a short sword and examined the blade. Good balance, he thought. Feels like Captain Renault’s sword. Then he mentally kicked himself. I already have a shorter sword, he realized. Stashed it in the bottom of my pack when I got Chillrend. A lot of help right now.

“We should harvest some mort flesh from these zombies,” Darnand said. “Though these are still quite wet, it should still be worth the weight we will have to carry.”

“I guess there’s some meat left that isn’t burned.” Jerric’s stomach heaved again. He tried to smother the resulting belch. “I’d be grateful if you did the harvesting. I’ll carry it, if it doesn’t drip too much.”

Industrious and revolting sounds began to drift from Darnand’s direction. “All things considered, I prefer to harvest energy from zombies,” Darnand remarked.

“That passage is blocked,” Lildereth said softly from across the chamber. Jerric jumped a little. “I’m going down the other one.”

Several moments later, she returned. “Through a long passage, up nine steps, a left turn, a shorter passage, a small chamber, and another passage. Well lit past the steps. There’s a larger space beyond all that. Three necromancers, by their robes. One is an Altmer, the other two Imperial or Breton. I couldn’t get a shot without alerting the survivors. It appears to be a living space, with desks and table. Bedrolls on the floor, so watch your feet. There are no side passages, and only one other way out of the larger chamber. All of the doorways are open. We could always retreat the way we came in. What do you think?”

Jerric gave Darnand a nod. “Let us continue,” Darnand said. “Expect summonings. I will attempt to dispel them, but I am unsure how effective I will be.”

“If they summon scamps, I’m sure your flame atronach will be happy to attack them,” Lildereth said with some amusement.

Darnand glanced sheepishly at Jerric. “She must have thought Precious hit her,” he explained.

Lildereth looked at Jerric. “Save your sight potion, the fellow in the first chamber won’t hear you in the long passageway.”

The fellow’s death stench greeted them while they were still in the corridor. They discovered that he had been a Dunmer male. He wore a black robe with a rust colored skull insignia on the chest. He lay on the floor beside a chair and work table. An arrow protruded from his throat. Jerric guessed that Lildereth had used poison, and didn’t want to risk retrieving it. He saw Darnand’s eyes go to the notes on the Dunmer’s table. “On the way back,” he said softly to Darnand.

“What if we do not return this way?” Darnand asked, an edge to his voice.

Lildereth silenced them with a look. Her voice was hardly more than a breath. “I’ll stay by the door and look for a shot. If we retreat, don’t wait for me. You won’t be able to see me.”

Jerric moved swiftly through the final corridor. Cold bluish light came down from stones set in fixtures on the walls. His ring showed him the glows of three living things in the chamber ahead. Not for long, he thought grimly. He slipped the ring back into his pocket. His fingers twitched, waiting for him to fill them with frost.

Whew! What a lot of action and ... even puking !!! These three work well together, I am liking the pairing here a lot !!! It seems to be good for all three of them, as far as them being able to be themselves around each other. Loving this new turn of events with the addition of Lildereth, they could be the three Muskateers traveling across Cyrodiil, lol. Great Write !!!

This is turning out to be a very detailed and enjoyable dungeon crawl! The encounter with the zombies is dynamically described and I really felt as though I was there in the ruins with your three characters. As ever, Jerric's personality is straightforwardly hilarious.

The stench hit him, and he gagged a little. His mouth filled with cold spit. You can throw up later, he told himself.
.
.
.
“I did,” Darnand replied calmly. “It would be useful to—”

Jerric bent over and hurled the contents of his stomach onto the stone floor. The sound of splashing covered the rest of Darnand’s statement. “I beg your pardon,” Jerric coughed, with as much dignity as he could muster. He turned his head and spit a few times to clear his mouth.

“It would be useful to have them turn on one another instead of fleeing,” Darnand continued without comment.


Brilliant timing to have Jerric cut Darnand off mid-sentence. And Darnand is typically understated in his reaction. Quite a pair, those two! I laughed, heartily.

Lildereth also is coming to the fore with some nice character fleshing. Whilst her basic personality type was clear in previous episodes, we can see the results of that in this episode. It is clear that is the introverted, silent, observing type, but that comes up trumps here as she is calm enough in the heat of battle to notice Jerric's quieter movements, and suggest to him that he move that way outside of battle to avoid detection.

Well done! A fight among three allies, two summons and three zombies is a lot to keep track of, yet you rendered it with perfect clarity. Clear enough to smell it! It was great to see Jerric a little more in his element (swinging a blade). Wonderful comaraderie developing among the three amigos.

In this episode, no less than three times, you caused me to ask myself questions, formulate a theory, then you confirmed my theory. This is a fun thing and makes the reader feel good when they 'get it right'. See what I mean:

1. You mentioned that a zombie's fur was smoldering. I thought about that for a moment and figured you meant a Khajiit zombie. Very shortly you confirmed that. Neat.

2. You described at one point that Precious and Darnand's flame atronachs were fighting each other. I did a double take on that, then thought about it. Summon gone rogue? Turned by a foe? Friendly fire? Then, sure enough near the end of the episode you suggested that it was friendly fire.

3. As Jerric was spraying spells, I found myself getting concerned about his atronach birth sign stunted magicka. Sure enough again, by the end of the episode you confirmed that he was indeed low on magicka.

This ability to provide 'loose ends' that you proceed to neatly tie up with a bow is quite a skill you have. As I said, well done!

Wow, you just get....better and better! The action had me on the edge of my seat, and of course...Jerric just keeps getting more 'Jerric' in every post!

An exciting, smelly furball, with daedra vs. undead vs. humans. I don't blame Jerric for tossing his cookies. I bet like tauntons, the insides of those things smell even worse than the outside. I thought the description of the khajiit zombie missing its lower jaw was a good touch. We never see khajiit (or Argonian) undead in the game. The addition was a nice touch, show us how you are breaking away from the game, and making the story your own. Many fan-fic writers never get to that point.

I was going to point the finger at Lildreth for not pulling her weight in the fight, when later we found the dead necromancer whom she had shot. So she is proving her worth after all. I see she is mellowing out somewhat too. The way she stole Jerric's canteen and then offered it to him was very cleverly amusing.

mALX: Well, Jerric did say that he throws up a lot! I completely forgot to put a barf warning on this section. I’m sorry!! I’m so glad you’re enjoying the three of them. You’re right, they can all just be themselves.

Ceidwad: Thank you for your kind words! I’m glad you’re enjoying it. To hear that Jerric made you laugh is delightful, as I so enjoy the humor that you weave throughout Gwen’s diary.

Acadian: Jerric was quite relieved to start swinging his blade, and quit clowning around in dark hallways. I am so delighted that the way the details were revealed seemed to work. It can be tricky for me to get the explaining in and still keep the POV! I’m glad the camaraderie is coming through, Lildereth can sound a little harsh. Thank you, Acadian!

D.Foxy: A long delay between posts usually means I’m struggling with a fight. To hear that you enjoyed it means so much to me! Thank you, Foxy!

SubRosa: I remember how impressed I was with the zombies that Teresa and Chance encountered, and how they were so individual. That inspired me to think about making mine more interesting than the game shows us. Lildereth needs a bow like Teresa’s in her video, otherwise you will not catch her messing around with zombies! A distracted necromancer at his desk is a target more to her liking. I’m glad you enjoyed her stunt with the canteen.


Where we are: Jerric, Darnand, and Lildereth are sneaking up on some necromancers.


Chapter 11 Holidays: Part 5

Jerric knelt in the final passageway, watching Lildereth fiddle with her arrows and vials. Warm light flooded out into the corridor, casting them into shadow. He felt like a coiled serpent before the strike. The waiting might be harder than the fight, he decided. His teeth felt gritty from his magicka potion. He heard a man in the chamber ahead speaking with a Colovian accent, answered by an Altmer’s nasal tones.

“All I’m saying is that you could buy more ham and bread,” said the unseen Colovian. His tone was peevish. “These onions and cabbages have to be prepared. I did not come here to drudge for you!”

“Your base nature reveals itself through your petty concerns, Domitius,” sneered the Altmer.

Lildereth nocked an arrow and vanished with a flicker of magicka. Darnand crept up beside Jerric. The Colovian continued to bicker with the Altmer, both of them still out of Jerric’s sight.

Jerric had an idea. “You should wear my helm,” he whispered to Darnand. “Fire shield.”

Darnand shook his head. “No time. Besides, they won’t use fire in their own dwelling.”

“It’s stone,” Jerric pointed out.

Darnand glared at him. “Will you—”

A commotion began in the chamber. “Domitius!” came a woman’s anguished cry. Jerric lunged to his feet and charged the last paces down the corridor. As he ran, he heard the air in the chamber rip open with the sound that announced a summoning.

He took in the scene with a glance. Shelves lined the walls. Desks and tables jutted into the room, piled with parchment, books, and litter. Bedrolls cluttered the space between. One man convulsed on the floor with an arrow in his neck. A woman slid to her knees beside him, still calling his name. An Altmer was on his feet, towering over a table near the center of the chamber. A zombie stood beside him, headless and slouched to the side. The Altmer’s eyes snapped to Jerric as he entered the room. The Altmer pointed his hand toward Jerric with a wordless cry. The mer first, thought Jerric.

Jerric started toward the Altmer, pulling frost into his hand. The zombie took a lurching step toward Jerric. The Altmer’s body jerked and spun. A ball of Darnand’s fire burst against him as he fell. Jerric saw an arrow sprouting from the mer’s back.

The zombie couldn’t reach him yet. Jerric turned his attention to the woman on the floor. She began to stand, raising her right hand. Her face was a mask of fury. Jerric cast his frost at her. Her spell interrupted, she fell back to the floor with a cry. Jerric heard a sound like the one Slim made when he returned to wherever he spent his days. The zombie is gone, he thought. The Altmer must be dead. The woman struggled to her knees, hampered by her black robe. A glance told Jerric that Darnand was still out of the way, filling his hands with more fire. Jerric could easily reach her over the Colovian’s body. He drew his sword and removed the woman’s head.

Her skull made a sharp crack when it hit the stones. Her body slumped to the floor an instant later. Jerric heard Darnand’s flare hiss as it dissipated. For a moment the chamber was silent. “I think she was a Breton,” Darnand said from behind Jerric. His voice sounded a little tight.

Lildereth placed an arrow on the table and walked over. She appeared completely unruffled. “Sometimes it’s hard for me to tell Bretons from Imperials. Jerric, keep an eye on that corridor with your ring, please.”

Jerric felt like he needed to run to the lighthouse and back. He still hadn’t learned how to tell his body when a quick fight was over. He considered for a moment while he dug in his pocket for the ring. “That was a pretty good ball of frost I hit her with. I guess an Imperial should have stayed down longer.” He watched the corridor for approaching life signs, but he directed his question at Lildereth. “Did you get that Altmer with poison? I didn’t see you shoot.”

“Good, you’re not supposed to see me. It takes a moment for the poison to kill. Don’t touch that arrow on the table, it’s coated with poison, too. If the woman had kept her head, I would have shot her first and let you two take the Altmer down with your frost and fire. It seems we all had the same idea about the most immediate threat. Jerric, I suppose you don’t mind cleaning your sword.”

Jerric snorted. “Kept her head.” He looked over to find Lildereth watching him. Her eyebrow had achieved an unlikely angle. “Oh, you’re asking why I didn’t use a spell. Uh, sign of the Atronach. Makes me want to save my magicka. Besides, the way she was hunched a little with her chin raised, who could resist a chance like that? I wanted to see if Redeemer could do it. One clean sweep through the neck.” He finished wiping the blade between glances at the passage. “Are we going to move on? The air’s getting a little thick in here.”

“I want to go through these notes before we leave,” Darnand said firmly. “They all wear the same robes. That alone confirms my suspicions.”

Lildereth shared a look with Jerric. “Suit yourself. I’ll scout ahead.” She picked up her arrow and moved silently through the open doorway.

Jerric kept his ring on, glancing between Lildereth’s corridor and their exit. “Look around now, if you like,” he told Darnand. “I’ll watch the doors. Take all the notes, they won’t be too heavy. I think we should burn what we leave behind here. No need to leave it comfortable for the next band of fetchers.”

Lildereth returned while Darnand was tying his stack of parchment into a bundle. “Skeletons,” she said. “I counted eight with hafted weapons and shields, no archers. It’s a huge chamber, low ceiling with support columns. More of this dim blue light. Looks like one Ayleid passageway leading out, and a tunnel recently cut through soil.”

Jerric slipped off his ring so he could see Darnand’s expression. “I saw an axe in the zombie room. I’m going back to get it. I’m not going to nick my sword on a bunch of enchanted bones. We can draw them back into the corridor if they all get interested at once.”

Darnand nodded. His face looked tense and a little eager. “I would like to get some more experience with my flare at various distances. I can turn them if they get too close to me.”

“All right,” Jerric said. “Of course I’ll need mine to get in close. You should carry that necromancer’s staff, just in case. Even if you just use your own spells, you could block with it. I worry that you don’t have any weapon.”

Now Darnand’s voice sounded as composed as it did at the dinner table. “Indeed, my conjured dagger is little use to me. I do not know how to wield it. Along similar lines, I hesitate to carry a staff for the first time into combat. I might present a hazard to myself and both of you. When we return to Anvil, let us discuss my need for defensive training. For today, I will move back if a skeleton gets too close to me. If necessary, my daedroth should be adequate to cover our retreat. Jerric, you must remember to take the turn to the right after the zombie chamber, if we remove ourselves from this ruin in haste.”

“Yeah,” said Jerric. “I looked back at it when we came through, like you said. Course if we’re leaving in a hurry, you’d better be in front of me. I’ll just follow your flapping robe. I wouldn’t mind seeing your daedroth at work, maybe we should start with him. But I guess that would cause some fuss.” He looked at Lildereth. “What would you do if you were here on your own?”

“Slip past them or leave,” she said with a little smile. “My arrows would do little damage to skeletons. But I never would have come past the zombies. Darnand, I suggest we reserve your daedroth unless the skeletons attack in too large a force. Our Nord has anticipated my objection.”

Jerric grinned at her. “First I got a ‘please,’ and now you suggest? Someone found her manners.”

Lildereth’s smile finally warmed her face. “I’ve worked with a lot of folk. Most don’t try to shoulder more weight than is given them. Many attempt to take on less. Assuming you don’t get us killed today, I would like to join you on the Fort Strand job. Get the axe, Jerric, I’ll wait up in the corridor.” She started toward the far doorway, then stopped and turned back. “But I’ll still speak the plain truth, the way I see it. I find it saves a lot of time and misunderstanding.”

She continued through the doorway. “I expect it also saves her from numerous social obligations and encumbering friendships,” Darnand remarked softly.

“I guess when you’re that size, you better scare them stickless right away," said Jerric. "She can always be nice later.”

What a great couple of chapters! I enjoyed the planning that went into this ruin, that and the scouting. These three are settling in well with each other. I liked that Darnand admits he needs to pull in some defensive training. That's a warrior's mindset - think about what went wrong (or almost did) and figure out what needs to be done so the same thing doesn't happen again; also think about the worst case scenario and figure out what needs to happen to make it come out in one's own favor.

Yes, these combat scenes can be a [honored user] to write, believe me I know what you mean!

And this: Had my mind going places that you may not have intended it to! Stickless, huh? Is that any more effective than castration? Yup, definitely my kind of heroine!

Darnand always surprises me when he shows eagerness to get into a scrap and practice destruction spells - not sure why, lol. I thought he would lose it at the beheading, and not really sure what inner reaction Lildereth had. GAAAAAH! The storms are back, I have to unplug AGAIN !!! ARGH !!! Great Write !!!

'He took in the scene with a glance. Shelves lined the walls. Desks and tables jutted into the room, piled with parchment, books, and litter. Bedrolls cluttered the space between. One man convulsed on the floor with an arrow in his neck. A woman slid….'
Here you demonstrate the perfect balance required during a fight scene. Enough detail to immerse your reader, but delivered with a volume and pacing that does not bog things down when a sense of quick tempo is required. Well done indeed!

'Jerric heard a sound like the one Slim made when he returned to wherever he spent his days. The zombie is gone, he thought. The Altmer must be dead.
How brilliant to use the zombie's disappearance as evidence that his summoner has expired!

'Jerric could easily reach her over the Colovian’s body. He drew his sword and removed the woman’s head.'
I wanted to cheer here. Poor Jerric had been watching the little elf's lethal arrows appearing in the necks of foes. And Darnand was delivering effective flame from afar. It was about time that Jerric really got to show everyone what a Nord with a sword can do! Bravo, Champion!

“That was a pretty good ball of frost I hit her with. I guess an Imperial should have stayed down longer.”
Given the context, what a fabulous way to confirm the target was Breton, with their magic resistance.

'Lildereth placed an arrow on the table and walked over.'
In your last story, I complimented you on delivering a loose end (like the passage above. Then once again, in the passage below, you neatly wrap up the 'why did she do that?' Very enjoyable.
Don’t touch that arrow on the table, it’s coated with poison, too.

Although you know my heart identifies so very much with the shadowy but skittish Lildereth, you once again provided the full measure of justice to all three of our adventurers as they continue to prepare for Fort Strand.

haute ecole rider: I’m so glad you’re enjoying Lildereth’s contribution. Planning and scouting are not Jerric’s thing! Thank you for pointing that out about Darnand. It’s been fun getting him out of the library. There were some awkward conversations that contributed to the term ‘stickless’! Mr. Grits has some friends who might run away when they see me next.

mALX: I think Darnand is such a magic nerd, it’s surprising that he wants to leave his books. But all of his study is for a purpose, as we’re starting to see. Jerric also thought Darnand might lose it at the beheading, so Jerric was surprised, too. I wrote this section and the last one together, but they’re posted separately since they got too long. A couple of Jerric’s unfinished thoughts get resolved next.

Acadian: Thank you for mentioning Lildereth’s third arrow. I’m departing from the game mechanics of one poison at a time, and three enemies would mean three prepared arrows. I’m particularly grateful for your endorsement of Jerric’s quick sword work. As you pointed out, he was ready to show his stuff! I really appreciate your guidance with the pacing and level of detail of this scene. The elements that you mentioned are exactly the things I have been struggling with.

Where we are: Jerric, Darnand, and Lildereth are sneaking up on some skeletons.


Chapter 11 Holidays: Part 6

Jerric and Darnand followed Lildereth to the entrance of a broad, dimly lit chamber. Jerric could see where metal gates must have once closed off the doorway. Squared-off columns supported the ceiling at regular, wide-spaced intervals. Won’t be hard to move around, thought Jerric. The air smelled a little fresher in here. He could see the skeletons’ glows. Three of them slouched unmoving within a dozen steps of where they knelt in the entry. The others paced or stood toward the chamber’s far end.

Jerric spoke to Darnand in a low voice. “I’ll move to the right, same as before. Stay a little behind me so you can duck back into the passageway if you get overwhelmed. Better to decide it’s time to retreat before you’re in real trouble. One hit can break your bones, and that’s very distracting. I may get too busy to look back at you, so yell out if you’re going to change the plan. If you see me fall, summon your daedroth and get back in the corridor. This should be a steady piece of work. Let’s try to keep it from getting too exciting.” Jerric slipped off his ring and put it back in his pocket. He found it hard to judge distance when his enemy was emanating a pinkish glow.

Moving into position got them the attention of the three nearest skeletons. Jerric summoned Slim and sent him to the far group. He heard Darnand’s spell at almost the same time. Darnand’s skeleton followed Slim at a lurching run. Their bony feet clacked against the stone floor, sounding over the clicks and scrapes of the approaching skeletons. Jerric hoped that the enemy skeletons might be confused when they were attacked by what looked like allies. Or Darnand’s summoning could attack Slim, he thought.

Darnand’s flare lit up one approaching skeleton, and a second ball of fire impacted the one behind it almost immediately. He’s casting with both hands, Jerric realized. He felt a moment of pride for his friend. Then Jerric focused on his own fight.

A skeleton had reached him. Jerric waited for its strike, balanced and ready. Years of sparring with Slim gave him confidence. This skeleton carried an iron axe and shield. Jerric timed his lunge so that his axe was in position for his counterstrike. The wooden haft was still solidly attached to the head, but the leather grip had loosened. He kept his attention on his grip as his elbow started the swing. The skeleton’s axe clanged against the stone floor, closer to Jerric’s feet than he liked. He whipped his wrist down, sending his axe under the skeleton’s shield and through its bony knee. The grip slipped a little in his hand, but he held on to it. The skeleton kept its weapon even as it clattered sideways to the floor.

Jerric glanced back at Darnand. One skeleton lay blackened on the floor, and another jogged away from him, smoking. Darnand pointed to the skeleton Jerric had knocked down. “I’ll finish it.”

Jerric nodded and turned back to the fight. He took a few steps into the chamber to get out of Darnand’s way. He ignored the heaving skeleton melee at the back of the room, unable to tell friend from foe. He guessed the survivors would come find him. Two approaching skeletons got his attention. They both were about four paces away.

Lildereth flickered into view farther into the chamber. She hurled a small flare at one of the skeletons near Jerric. It stopped and turned toward her. She threw another flare, her face frightened in its orange glow. Jerric watched her stand for an instant, claiming the skeleton’s attention. Then its partner reached him, and he had to look away from her.

Don’t try to rush, he told himself. A mistake will take longer than a properly timed strike. This skeleton carried a silver mace. I want that, Jerric thought. It clipped Jerric’s shield as he started his swing. His axe missed the knee, sticking into the femur. The impact jarred Jerric through his shoulder. He let go of the axe and danced back, swearing.

Lildereth had disappeared. The skeleton she had scorched turned back toward Jerric. A great clatter and hissing arose from the back of the chamber. Light flared around the skeleton that had Jerric’s axe imbedded in its leg. It turned and loped away. “Here,” Darnand said, beside Jerric. He looked a little wide-eyed. He held out an iron mace with an oversized head.

Jerric took the mace, and Darnand backed toward the door before Jerric could tell him to. Jerric turned to meet the skeleton Lildereth had distracted. He felt almost absently for Slim, and found him gone. Eyes on the approaching skeleton, he summoned Slim back to the chamber. As he felt the magical eddy begin, he cast it away from him, past the approaching skeleton. Slim dropped into his view, already facing the back of the chamber. He lurched into a run toward the fight without further instruction from Jerric.

Jerric tested the iron mace while he shifted his feet. It was too heavy for him, but he would rather not leave Redeemer stuck in a skeleton. The scorched skeleton held a long-handled hammer and shield. Jerric worried that his mace would drop at too sharp an angle, and he would miss the knee again. He decided on an overhead strike. It would take more time, but he wouldn’t miss.

The hammer whistled past his chest and clanged against the floor. Jerric dropped his weight behind his shield and planted his foot on the hammer’s haft. He bashed forward and up from his rear foot, knocking the skeleton back. The skeleton let go of the hammer. Not something to try on an orc, Jerric decided. He swung the mace up as he pushed the skeleton’s shield down with his own. His arm guided the mace’s descent through the skeleton’s shoulder and ribcage, letting the weight do the damage. He stepped back, right eye burning. The damaged skeleton still stood, dropping bones. It burst into flame before it fell in pieces. Darnand is earning his coin today, Jerric thought. The shield rang as it hit the pocked floor. Darnand’s voice came from behind him. “Next!”

Trust the Breton to find his sense of humor now, thought Jerric. He ran a few steps to close with another skeleton. This one had lost its shield. Jerric was surprised when it kept fighting after he sent its skull rolling. They can see with no eyes, he realized. I guess that’s the same as no eye sockets. He was sweating with effort by the time the skeleton shattered. Little recoil meant heaving the mace back into position for each strike.

He took a moment to thumb the blood out of his eye. A crash of bones from the back of the chamber was followed by Slim’s victory rattle. Or it could be Darnand’s skeleton, Jerric admitted. At this distance with one eye, he couldn’t be sure. He knew the fight was over when Lildereth appeared in front of him.

“Here,” she said, motioning him down. When he bent, she scrubbed his face with something, then pressed it against his eye. “Hold this. It’s just a little cut under the brow. Probably a bone fragment, since your helm isn’t dented.”

Darnand snorted next to Jerric. He reached out and gripped Jerric’s shoulder. White light twinkled in front of Jerric’s open eye as Darnand healed him. Jerric shared a sheepish glance with Lildereth. “I guess real mages don’t carry little bandages,” Jerric remarked.

Lildereth darted off, so Jerric got out his canteen. He took a pull and passed it to Darnand. His friend looked like he could use a moment or two to finish collecting himself. Jerric took the time to check for surprise injuries and glance around at the chamber.

More of the small, bright crystals were fixed into the ceiling. Their aquamarine glow provided adequate light, but the atmosphere was eerie and uncomfortable. He found himself wondering more about the folk who first inhabited the space than about the ones they just evicted. He decided to ask before they got back to work. “What do you think they did here?”

Darnand cast a spell. Its green glow added to the sickly light. “This was their preparation chamber. Look here, the altar they used for enchanting. It appears to be crafted from rubble. Those hooks on the wall are not Ayleid. From the stains, I expect they used them to make the bodies ready for their rituals.”

The new light showed Jerric a barrel holding torches. He lit one and held it out to the side. “No, I mean the Ayleids. Why did they put light stones in their drainage system? What are these large chambers for?”

Lildereth stepped into the torch’s warm light. “Your big cities have underground levels, for the functions that the citizens don’t want to see. Perhaps you learned that from the Ayleids. I imagine these passages were like highways for the slaves, and maybe work and dwelling places. Who can know? I found the necromancers’ entrance. A hand-dug tunnel, concealed under bushes from the outside. That stone passage leads to a cave-in. They must have come in through the sewer the first time, like we did.”

Jerric tried to think like a necromancer. “Those fetchers in the robes didn’t look much like diggers. We met the tunnel makers in the zombie chamber, I’d wager. Three bedrolls for four corpse pirates. Unless those two mer were humping, I’d say we’re through here. Though there could be another partner out somewhere.”

Lildereth nodded. “Let’s go out through the surface tunnel. Jerric, do you need more time?”

“I want to look through the weapons in here, there was a silver mace that caught my eye. I’ll roll up what we want to keep into some of their blankets. Didn’t think to bring an extra pack. I’ll cache the rest for later. Don’t want to leave weapons lying around. Most of it’s not worth the weight to carry for what Morvayn would give us, but the Anvil militia might have a use for some of it. If you two agree. Won’t take me long.”

Her eyes went to Darnand.

“I saw some things in their living quarters that I should like to examine,” Darnand said. “Additionally, I will need some time with the remains.”

Jerric took a moment to scrutinize his friend. Darnand still looked tense, but calm. No signs of the shakes that had overtaken him after the mage attack on the Gold Road. He was in control this whole time, Jerric realized. I guess that’s important to him.

Lildereth gave another sharp nod. “Jerric, I’ll watch the exit while you do your work. I’ll go help Darnand finish when you get back here, you can stand watch then. Darnand, I’ll give you a hand if they’ve locked anything. Sound like a plan?”

“Indeed,” said Darnand. “As we leave, I shall ignite their furnishings.”

Jerric remembered Lildereth’s face when she had drawn one of the skeletons away from him. She had acted decisively despite her fear. He wished he had the words to tell her. “Yeah,” he said.

They finished their tasks with brisk efficiency. Jerric thought they all must be ready to breathe some fresh air. The mace he found was made of Nordic silver. Holding it felt like finding something he had lost. He wanted Morvayn to take a look at it, but he knew it would be his. He felt a smile crease his face as he tucked it into his belt.

Darnand set the pace back over the dunes to Anvil, since he was the least conditioned to walking with a burden. Between Jerric’s brawn, Lildereth’s feather spell, and Darnand augmenting his strength with a spell, they managed to carry all of the day’s spoils.

Jerric tried not to think about the sodden weight of zombie meat in his pack. He couldn’t shake the idea that what he was carrying deserved a burial, not a mortar and pestle. At least the light wind kept most of the smell behind them. His stomach was unsettled, the pangs of urgent hunger battling with trickles of nausea.

The sun glowed low and cold in the west, and the sea breeze carried a winter bite. A hot bath and a roaring fire would be welcome, Jerric thought. Sadly, his spare clothing was all back at his hut. He decided he could settle for a cold swim and the cozy blaze his fireplace would allow. North Winds Prayer is tomorrow, he remembered. There would be feasting after the chapel services, and bonfires on the beach. And Abiene. Hopefully, he would see Abiene. His heart beat faster at the thought of her.

Lildereth walked beside Jerric. “I could murder a pile of biscuits,” Jerric remarked to her, while his gut was feeling optimistic. “Soft, fluffy ones. Not those flakey rolled biscuits like they make in Skingrad.”

Lildereth swept him with an exaggerated glance. “That’s funny. The white-gold tower of death and destruction, talking about fluffy biscuits.”

“I’m all that of safety and protection, if you’re on the right side of my shield.” Jerric realized something. “Are you calling me pale? That’s a little unkind. Not everyone is blessed to toast in the sun.”

Lildereth answered with another green glance.

“Anyway,” Jerric continued, “You know what thought makes me shrivel? An arrow shot from the dark.” For a moment Lildereth’s face was inscrutable. Then she smiled. Jerric grinned to himself. “Biscuits with a slice of ham, or with honey. I can’t decide.”

Once again Jerric's appetite makes a timely showing to cut the tensions of battle - even mixed with nausea it prevails, ROFL !!!! Darnand continues to develop as an asset in the battlefield - not sure why that continues to surprise me !! Lol, but I like that side of him that emerges. Awesome Write !!!