I echo Acadian's comments. That the time's (and indeed worlds) don't mesh really doesn't matter for this crossover. Events with Sethas and Serene don't fit either but they undoubtably inhabit the same world, such liberties are part of the whole crossover thing which adds great depth.

Your version of Julian's past is excellent too. She is very definatly the Julian we know but with some changes which fit well with it being a younger version. I'm impressed how well you've handled her. I was also unaware that she had green eyes.

Athlian is great as ever, it's when he's streached and with another character to be mirrored against that he shows just how much there is to him. Telling (as I suspect is your intention) the test of wisdom (and maybe strength) as a flashback in the report to Julian is quite a good idea. It should keep things fresh.


I can see that now, I hadn't expected him to return to Frostmoth so couldn't see how he'd send it. As to the meaning, well I have suspictions (which is another way of saying you've laid another hook...).

Yaay more Julian! Skipping ahead to Fort Frostmoth like this is an interesting choice. I presume you will use Athlain's deposition to show us what happened after the test of loyalty. It makes me wonder how far ahead we have gone? Just to post-test? Or to the very end of all the events on Solstheim? I will just have to wait and see when you write more!

I've waited to comment because I don't want to brag . . .

Trey, you've done a wonderful job portraying Julian in her prime, before skooma and alcoholism destroyed her self-esteem. I have enjoyed this collaboration in portraying her during her Skyrim years, before that fateful Goblin skirmish ended her career.

I have often thought about what she was like in those days, and am glad that you chose to portray her at this point in her life, when she feels she is in her rightful place as a Legion pilus, and has no idea of the trials and tribulations that lie ahead . . .

Thanks again for the tribute to a character that has become such a good friend to me . . .

@hazmick- Thank you. I think you caught a significant point- to Athlain, Julian is the ideal Legion soldier- something he himself longs to be. If she “rings true” in my prose, it is because her creator has done such a wonderful job of imbuing Julian with a personality and life that extends beyond the page.

@mALX- As ever, your wish is my command. I still don’t see a way to bring Athynae and Julian together in my story- I think it would be rather like putting Maxical and Adryn in the same room… And, truth be told, whether or not Tamriel would survive the epic struggle, I am not certain that it is within my capability to write a scene that would do justice to two such vivid characters.

@Acadian- Thank you for your reassurance as far as the discontinuity… It fits with my belief that the characters and the story are what matter- so long as the writer does not do complete violence to the setting or other established Lore. Athlain is going to need your compassion soon- he is about to make fairly serious admission. (Not this episode, but the next).

@Black Hand- Once the idea of Julian of Anvil, LCIS (Legion Criminal Investigative Service) got into my head, I had to write it. As to how much of a role she will have, that remains to be seen…

@Remko- Athlain has not been charged with anything- yet. But there are certain… questions… that need to be answered.

@Olen- Thank you for those kind words- I want the characters to work so well that the issue of time and place fades into the background. If this younger Julian works, it is because haute has given me so much material to work with, as well as excellent guidance. And I am glad Athlain comes through, as well. He has been tested- and will be again. Adversity will reveal strength (or weakness) of character.

@SubRosa- The flashback/deposition occurred to me when I decided to see if I could fit Julian into the story. And her talent for investigations seemed to be a useful hook. The scope of the investigation- plus the back-story and outcome- will be revealed…eventually.

@haute- “It’s only bragging if it ain’t true.” If “my” Julian fits your picture of her, it is because you made it easy to envision the Pilus Prior that was. And again, my thanks for allowing me to borrow her- with your assistance, she will make several more appearances throughout this chapter…

All- No Julian in this episode, at least not directly. But she is a silent presence watching Athlain and listening to his story-and taking the occasional note. Be aware of that- and be very sure that he is aware of it!

-----------------------------------------------------------------
My heart was lighter, and I seemed to be more aware of the land as I made my way back north to the village. Sometime during my visits to the Standing Stones, Frostfall had arrived, heralding the harvest on Vvardenfell and in Cyrodiil. On Solstheim, though, it simply meant that the cold days were even colder and the chance of snow was even greater. Nevertheless, I was content. With the Test of Loyalty completed, I was sure that Tharsten would tell me what he knew about Captain Carius and the attack on the fort. But that was not what happened.

Regardless of my new-found connection with Solstheim itself, the village Skaal were still wary and doubtful. They stopped their conversations when I came near and watched me sidelong as I approached the Great Hall. When I entered, Tharsten Heart-Fang gave me a look that I could not interpret. Although he smiled, it was a rather pinched and sour sort of smile, as though his heart was not really in it. Nevertheless, he stood when I approached and boomed:

“Ye have completed the Ritual of the Gifts. I am impressed with your efforts, outlander. But there is more to be done. Ye have shown a certain loyalty to the Skaal, and it surprises me.”

That last I certainly believed, and I also wondered how he knew I had reactivated all of the Stones. But he was the leader of the Skaal; no doubt he had ways of knowing things. And how he knew did not matter- so long as he would honor his side of the bargain. Before I could ask him about Captain Carius, though, he turned to the wall and lifted down a mace crafted of Nordic silver. He cradled the weapon in both hands and looked at it rather than me as he reluctantly murmured:

“Tradition dictates that ye now hold this, the Mace of Aevar Stonesinger. It is a treasure of the Skaal that I do not relish giving to an outsider. Still, ye have earned it. For now.”

With that, he thrust the mace at me, the sour look on his face even more pronounced than before.

His motion was so abrupt that I nearly dropped the massive thing, which accident the Skaal chieftain had perhaps intended. But many hours of drill with Carbo ensured that I never let a weapon in my care touch the ground. Whatever symbolic worth Aevar’s mace had, it lacked in utility. It was crafted entirely of metal, which may have explained why it still survived after so many years. It carried a minor frost damage enchantment- and it weighed three times as much as Athynae’s Gift- more than the rest of my equipment combined. One probably did not “wield” it so much as simply drop it on an enemy and let gravity do the rest.

I muttered some polite fiction about taking pride in the mace and honoring the memory of Aevar, but Tharsten spoke over my faint dissembling:

“Ye have completed one test, but it is not enough. Ye still be not Skaal. So now I would test your wisdom. Engar Ice-Mane stands accused of stealing furs from the house of Rikolfr Halfhand. The furs were, indeed, found in Ice-Mane’s home.”

He seated himself and folded his hands in front of him before adding:

“Theft is a serious offense amongst our folk, for we do not have so much as the people of the warm lands. All that we do have, we share freely, giving to each according to his need- with no one taking more than is required. It is our way. One who steals throws everything out of balance. And a thief amongst us harms all, for he robs all. Anyone proved to be a thief is given the choice of death or of exile from the Skaal. Investigate this crime; find out what you can. Then, report your findings to me, so the truth may be found- and the guilty punished appropriately.”

He turned his brooding eyes away from me, a clear dismissal. While I was annoyed at this further delay, I could do nothing except obey. Tharsten would tell me when he felt like it- which meant that I must complete this new test, if I could. Most of the Skaal would answer because Tharsten had told them to, but they would only give only the barest information to an outsider. If I was going to find the truth, I would have to speak with those who trusted me.

Therefore, I went to Lassnr’s house and knocked on the door. The old Nord welcomed me and poured cider for both of us as we sat in front of the fire. I told him a bit about my recent adventures and then explained,

“Lassnr, your chieftain has asked me to look into this business with Engar Ice-Mane and the stolen furs. I am a stranger and know nothing of your people. I am not certain whether Heart-Fang wants me to find the truth, or expects me to fall flat on my face. But- a man’s life and honor are at stake here. So I cannot afford to fail. What can you tell me of the two men involved in this crime?”

Lassnr looked into the flames for a long moment before he answered:

“Engar is a valiant warrior, and no thief. Any of the Skaal can tell ye that. Anyone who would say different is a liar. He has always proven to be brave and true, and it is impossible to think he would steal.”

He paused before continuing in a quieter voice, “As to Rikolfr Halfhand, he is a smart man, but there is something not right about him. He spends too much time at Ice-Mane's home while Engar is away on a hunt. This is not appropriate.”

He had little more to add, except that I should speak with the shaman, which I had already planned to do. I thanked him for his honesty and left.

When I met with Korst Wind-Eye, I first complained about being given another task instead of the answers I sought. The shaman did not offer an alternative, but explained:

“Heart-Fang is testing you, as is his nature. He is distrustful of all those beyond the Skaal village, and he is slow to accept others into his confidence. Expect him to continue testing you. Heart-Fang is a hard man, and his challenges may be dangerous. I will help you whenever I can. You may trust in me.”

He stood by a window, looking out at the snow-covered village as he continued:

“As for the two men, Engar has been a valiant warrior of the Skaal for as long as I can remember. Both his father and his father's father were known to be brave and honest men as well. His wife, Risi Ice-Mane, will be heartbroken if he is found to be guilty. Rikolfr is a clever one. He is wise and crafty, and perhaps for this, he is not well-liked. Still, he is of the Skaal, and we must take his accusation seriously.”

He turned to face me and said seriously:

“You will have to use your judgment in this matter, for the consequences will be severe. Speak with Engar and Rikolfr. You should also speak to Risi Ice-Mane, for she knows her husband better than anyone. Listen carefully, and keep a sharp eye out, for these are matters that affect us all. May the wisdom of the All-Maker guide you.”

Engar Ice-Mane was easy to find; unable to rest or sit still with the cloud of suspicion hanging over him, he paced through the village with a worried frown. When I approached the warrior, he turned his face to me, showing an elaborate clan tattoo covering one side. Before I could speak, he waved a large hand and said,

“Ye are to be my judge; what would ye ask?”

He was a bit intimidating in his wolf-hide armor, so I began cautiously, “Ah- you have been accused….”

I got no further. He growled: “I know what I am accused of, and I know that it is a lie! I have no need for the furs of Rikolfr Halfhand. I am a Skaal warrior. My honor and the honor of the Skaal are my life. But I will bear this injustice as any warrior should--with dignity.”

Then his frown faded and he simply looked confused, as he added:

“I had no quarrel with Halfhand until this day. I thought him a friend to my family, to my wife, Risi Ice-Mane, especially. While I was out hunting, he was known to keep counsel with her and others who remained in the village. And now this from him!”

He shook his head in dismay and turned away to continue his restless circuit of the village.

And then it was time to speak with the accuser. Rikolfr’s house was small, but relatively well-kept. He answered my knock and invited me in with a look of sadness that somehow did not seem to reach his eyes.

“I understand Tharsten has sent you to investigate Ice-Mane’s crime. Ask your questions and I will answer, outlander.”

I glanced around the sparsely-furnished single room and asked, “Why do you think he did it?”

Rikolfr shrugged elaborately and responded: “He has always been a valuable member of the Skaal. But he is not a caring man. He leaves his lovely wife for weeks at a time while hunting. He probably stole my furs because he wasn't able to provide enough for his family. Such a sad story.”

He glanced at my face from under lowered lids, as if to gauge my reaction. I thought of what Lassnr had said about Ice-Mane’s wife, along with some other clues, and a suspicion began to grow. Casually, as if simply making small talk, I inquired,

“And what of his wife? How does she fit into all this?”

His face took on the look of a greedy child eying the largest pastry on the plate as he told me:

“She is a beautiful woman, deserving better than her husband. Were I her mate, she would lead a much better life.”

He stopped suddenly and his gaze sharpened. Reflexively, he raised a hand to cover his mouth, as if to keep the words inside. But they had already escaped, and I knew with whom I would speak next.

The Ice-Mane house was large and filled with well-made furniture and thick rugs. Risi spoke in a low, definite voice as she told me:

“Engar would never do a thing such as this. He is a man of honor, and we want for nothing.”

Wringing her hands, she went on: “I cannot imagine what would drive Rikolfr to make such an accusation. Perhaps he is jealous of my husband, and these charges are meant to disgrace him.”

Since she had raised the issue, I asked, “What do you think of Rikolfr? How did things stand between you before this?”

She colored a bit and said slowly, “He had been a good friend to me until this accusation. We had spent...some time together. But now, he has decided to ruin my family.”

Something had caught my eye, so I asked Risi if I could trouble her for some water. When she turned to fetch it, I moved down the room, acting as if I was admiring the wall-hangings. But my goal was one of the beds, where I had seen a bit of parchment peeking from beneath the pillow.

WOO HOO !!!! While the cats away, the mice do play !!!! I suspected (if not a love triangle, at the least a jealous wannabe love triangle hopeful) the minute I heard he came while her husband was out hunting !!!!!!

Really great detail and description - personalities come across perfectly clearly and facial expressions can be visualized with ease (always) in your writing !!! What a gift !!!!

Do I detect a certain - ahm - affair that would be best left alone if Rigmor hadn't decided to stir things up with the stolen furs? Hmm!

I've a feeling Julian will be unsurprised by the outcome of this situation!

Er....

I don't even wanna THINK about that.

SPEW !!!! ROFL !!!!

this must be CSI:Solstheim! awesome! A great chapter which shows how important it is to be observant and friendly at all times, especially when you are trying to impress a clan of Nords (Which is a surprisingly frequent occurrence)

This is an occasion where I am delighted to claim no knowledge of Morrowind quests (as I assume this to be). It is a rich and wonderful mystery to this wide-eyed reader! The technical term I believe - in mALX-speak - would be WooHoo!

This was incredibly immersive as I walked around with Athlain, feeling his frustration at the delay, then interviewing persons of interest. Thanks for the cider, Lassie Lassnr.

And another cliffie! Only treydog could turn a slip of parchment into a cliffie.

I quite loved this. The soldier's ingrained respect for his weapon is evident. I chuckled over 'let gravity do the rest' - such a typical Nord weapon! And finally, a tiny, but desperately relished Athynae fix. Beautiful.

I always liked this quest, no 'Go here and kill something and return for gold.' Something that actually sparks the intellect if only a little bit. Too bad it didn't carry over into Oblivion, 'follow green arrow, activate quest marker, get GP and XP, congrats! You're a winner!'

Loved the part Acadian quoted too
I can't help but wondering how they prevent the steel mace from rusting to bits in the Solstheim climate.

It looks to me like perhaps Rigmor and Risi were keeping more than just "counsel" together all those days when Egnar as away. My guess is that Rigmor left the furs by accident, and then had to accuse Egnar of theft before being found out.

Everyone- This episode sees the return of LCIS: Skyrim, with (Very Special Agent) Julian of Anvil.

@mALX- Your suspicions (and Foxy-flooring phrasing) will be explored in this episode. Thank you for your compliments on my characterizations- those are somewhat important to what I hope is a character-driven story.

@haute- As will be shown below, sometimes, it is best to just stay quiet. Of course, that same silence can be a useful tool in interrogation, as Julian Gibbs will demonstrate…

@hazmick- CSI would work, too…. Yup, it kind of adds to the difficulties involved in being the “new kid,” when the established cliques carry large axes… and aren’t shy about using them.

@Acadian- Yes, this is a fairly “off-the-shelf” Bloodmoon quest, with some dialogue and stage-directions added. As to the Mace of Aevar, it weighs 90 pounds in the game. For comparison purposes, an iron or steel cuirass weighs 30 pounds. Dropping on an opponent’s head (or foot) seems to be the best use for it. The bit about the sudden hand-off of a weapon from DI to troop is just one of those things that is part and parcel of Basic Training- I figured Athlain had “been there, done that, got the arming doublet.”

@Black Hand- Yes, I also appreciated the fact that this was one where the player character was actually allowed to go talk to people and it accomplished something.

@Remko- Thank you. I dodged the corrosion issue by making it silver- although that oxidizes, too…

@SubRosa- The truth of things is revealed in this part, including the nature of Rigmor’s “counsel.”

-------------------------------------------------

Chapter 13, Part 3

While Risi was turned away, I pulled the parchment from under the pillow and glanced at it. I was not proud of my deception, but a man’s life was at stake, so I hoped the impropriety could be forgiven. The scrawled text confirmed my earlier suspicions- in it, the writer begged Risi to consent to speak with him, insulted Engar, and threatened to “resort to something drastic.” Most significantly, it was signed “RH.”

When Engar’s wife saw me with the note, the clay mug she held fell to the floor unheeded and she slumped onto a bench. Burying her face in her hands, she sobbed:

“At least it is over. Rikolfr and I had an affair, but I ended it. He won’t let me go, though. He must have done this to get rid of Engar. You must see that- my husband is a good man. He has already said he will die rather than accept exile. Please- make Rikolfr tell the truth!”

I left her there, needing the cold air outside to clear my mind. I was convinced of Engar’s innocence, but did not know if I had enough proof. It was natural for a wife to defend her husband- and while the note was evidence, it only confirmed the affair. Risi was right- I must get Rikolfr to withdraw the charge or admit his scheme. I tucked the note inside my journal and went back to Halfhand’s house. When he answered my knock, I explained that I had one more question and flipped through the journal as if looking for a particular passage, stopping at the note. I called Rigmor over and asked,

“What do you make of this?”

His face went red and then white as he stared at the note. Finally, in a shaken voice, he said,

“I only wanted the woman. Why did that fool have to choose death instead of exile? He could have simply left, and she and I could have been together forever!”

He lowered his head in resignation and continued,

“You know my crime, and I know you must tell Heart-Fang. Let us go to him, and I will accept my fate.”

In that, at least, he finally showed himself to be a man of the Skaal.

When we entered the Great Hall, Tharsten sat back in his throne and eyed me keenly.

“I sent ye to investigate a crime. Have ye done so?”

“Yes,” I answered, “But what I found was something else.”

Then I proceeded to explain that Rigmor had admitted to lying, but I left out his reason for doing so. If Risi wanted to tell Engar the truth, that was between them. It did not need to be proclaimed to the whole village- although many of the Skaal probably suspected. Tharsten’s expression turned thunderous and he looked to Rikolfr for confirmation of my words. When the warrior nodded, the chieftain leapt up and roared:

“So, Halfhand invented this tale of theft? By the All-Maker, this will not go unpunished! By Skaal tradition, making a false accusation carries the same penalty as the crime that is charged. In this case, that means exile or death.”

Then he stopped and stared at me with an expression I did not like. In a voice as hard and cold as mountain ice he said:

“Ye have cleared Engar of the false charge, and that is well. But your task is not finished. Ye showed wisdom in discovering the truth; I am minded to see if that wisdom extends to your judgment of this matter. It is for ye to decide Rikolfr’s punishment and to see that it is carried out.”

Tharsten spoke with a finality that told me he would not be swayed. All I could think of was to turn to Korst Wind-Eye for guidance.

Leaving Rikolfr with the Skaal guards, I trudged to the shaman’s house. When I explained the situation, he looked troubled, and finally said:

“Tharsten has put this burden on your shoulders, and you must carry it. I do not say he is right or wrong, only that he has the authority to make the decision and that you are bound by it, just as Rikolfr will be bound by yours.”

I looked at him and said slowly, “I understand that I must decide- but Tharsten also said it would be up to me to see that the punishment is carried out. Before I can do that, I need to know some things. First, why are the penalties so different? Why was Engar so determined to die rather than face exile? And, if I choose the death sentence- will I be required to- execute Halfhand… personally?”

Korst motioned me to a chair and studied my face in silence. At last he said,

“You are not of the people, so this may be difficult for you to understand. But it is important that you try. Exile is the most terrible punishment that may be handed down by the Skaal. To be banished is to be dead to the community. The exiled one receives neither food, nor hearth, nor even words of comfort or greeting. He will never again find joy in the company of our brothers and sisters. He will never feel the Spirit flow through his body while on a hunt. His name is never spoken; his deeds are not sung.”

He stopped and looked long into the fire before continuing,

“I want you to be aware of the consequences of exile, lest you consider it a merciful alternative. A true warrior prefers an honorable death. Before I tell you the manner of that death, I would ask you something. You are troubled by your role in this, to hold a man’s life in your hands, yet you are an Agent of the Imperial Legion. Have you not slain men before?”

“Yes,” I admitted. “But that was in the heat of battle, when they attacked me or someone who was with me. I did not set out with the intent of killing them.”

“What of the duel with Erich at Thirsk? Did you not ‘intend’ his death, even though you let him issue the challenge?”

Honesty compelled me, so I answered quietly, “Yes. I knew the probable outcome, and I was prepared to kill Erich.” A thought occurred to me and I protested, “But he had already attacked Mirisa, so I was defending her.”

The shaman’s look was very much like that of my father when I tried to wriggle out of something on a technicality.

“But he did not attack her in your presence, did he? You could hardly call it ‘the heat of battle’.”

“No,” I agreed, “I had sent her away before Erich returned. He never attacked her in my presence.”

Korst turned his hand palm upward in a gesture that suggested I draw my own conclusions.

“Just a moment, sir,” Julian’s quiet tone brought me back from the shaman’s cabin to the stuffy interview room. “Let me be sure I understand what you are saying. You fought a duel- to the death- with someone named ‘Erich’ over a woman named ‘Mirisa’? Was this Legion business- or a… personal matter?”

She raised an interrogative eyebrow, inviting a response. That must be something all women were taught at an early age, I decided. Aware that she was still waiting, I answered carefully:

“It was… neither. Mirisa is an Imperial Cult missionary who was kidnapped by Erich the Unworthy, a Skaal hunter. After I sent her and Athynae to the fort, Erich challenged me and we fought.”

I should have left it at that, but the Redguard’s impassive silence was like a goad to my traitorous tongue:

“It was not a Legion assignment, even though the Cult priest, Jeleen, had asked me to look for Mirisa. In any event, I was not wearing my uniform when I killed Erich.”

The silence that followed the slip seemed to stretch for an eternity as I mentally kicked myself. Somehow, I managed to keep quiet as I waited for the inevitable follow up question, but it did not come. Julian simply glanced at the height of the candles on the side-table and said briskly:

"Very well, sir. We will resume in the morning. Please don't leave the Fort."

As I went to the door, the only sound was the slow scratch of her quill on parchment.

Wonderful, as always!
So Athlain capably handles a heavy task, and is rewarded by one of thrice the weight. Gulp.
I am so looking forward to seeing how he proceeds.

Ooooh! Buffy is busily taking notes on how to rationalize stuff!

Perfect! And what a joy to see Julian again!


Nits: I would simply delete the bolded 'she'.

Similarly, I recommend losing the bolded 'the'.

So Athlain not only has to be investigator, but also judge, jury, and executioner as well! Quite the tough box Tharsten is forcing him into. But I can see the reason why. Athlain's response will vividly display his character. Not to mention force him to define it in the first place! Given the circumstances, I suspect that Athlain will go with the more merciful option - death.

This was a very powerful chapter before Julian of Anvil's inset at the bottom - that blew it over the top!!! WHEW !!!!!

This was a very powerful chapter before Julian of Anvil's inset at the bottom - that blew it over the top!!!


Malx...


MALX...

M.A.L.X...

*foxy died laughing in front of his computer*

ROFL !!!! Fooooxxxy's Baaaaack !!!!!

The only advantage I can see in coming back to this story after such a long absence? I get to read on where others must wait. The problem is that all too soon I read myself current again and am forced to wait for the next chapter.

I am left dumbfounded, trey! I have retrieved my jaw from the floor, but I still can’t wipe the smile from my face.

Where to begin to comment:

First, the atmosphere! Everything already said about your ability to immerse your reader finds new proof in the Test of Loyalty. Every dank, dark cave, every visible breath, every gouge, cut, and scrape sustained in the heat of battle, and every plaintive rumble of Athlain’s stomach was shared by this reader. First it was the wonderfully described battles with the draugr (I certainly hope that is the correct plural form). Then I was riveted by the long-awaited discovery of the airship, and the grisly fate of her crew. Finally there was the epic confrontation with the rieklings, who were as effectively chilling on their wild boars as children riding bicycles while singing nursery rhymes.

Second, your amazingly indelible characters: Much has already been said of Athlain and his wonderful believability. I am equally blown away by several of your ‘supporting’ characters. I won’t list them all because this post is long enough as it is. But Skjoldr, for the depth of sage advice delivered in the warmth of a fire in the Thirsk mead hall (for where else would one expect to receive sage advice from a Nord?) must be mentioned. I must also congratulate you on Brynjolfr, for selfless toil that speaks of friendship far more eloquently than mere words. And in these last few chapters Tharsten Heart-Fang has emerged as a singular piece of work (‘Now that you have completed the impossible task I set before you, could you clear up this business about the stolen furs before I tell you what you want to know?!’).

Third, the return of Athynae!! Her reappearance more than made up for her absence. And now this new revelation about political marriages and proposed sanctuary that brings to mind a half-remembered bit of dialogue shared between two concerned parents. Athlain’s letter from Fort Frostmouth is a clear indication that this situation is ready to turn upon itself in a way that is reminiscent of the works of Aeschylus, Sophocles, or Euripides. I do not know if I am correct in my presumption, but I suspect that all is not as it appears.

And, of course, Julian’s cameo . . . it is not surprising to see that even at this age she still seems to have the pole of the Legion standard shoved firmly up her backside! I can just see the Pilus Prior in all of her spit-shined, upright, judgmental, heroic, loveable glory! The inconsistency of the timeline means absolutely nothing in the face of such an expertly handled crossover. It just seems right that two such wonderfully indelible characters should meet, and I look forward to discovering where you take them (and us) from here.

And, of course, Julian’s cameo . . . it is not surprising to see that even at this age she still seems to have the pole of the Legion standard shoved firmly up her backside








ARRRRGH AWOOOOO WOOOOAAR ARRRR AWOOO-HOOO-OOOOOO....

There can be NO DOUBT about it anymore - IT'S A CONSPIRACY THAT'S WHAT IT FREAKING IS!!!! EVERYBODY IS PLANNING TO KILL ME WITH DOUBLE ENTRENDES!!!


WHY....O,O,OH HO (ooops) OH OH OH WHY WHYAIAIAIAIWHY....


WHY IS EVERYONE OUT TO GET ME....

*please send all condolences, comisserations, condoms and other wraps (er er wreaths) to deefoxy@gmail.com for the recently diseased - er - deceased D.Foxy*

I will say it before mALX gets the chance:

It serves you right for opening the box (oops, there I go again!) and letting Dhertee Innu Endo out. We have all been infected!

EDIT: I know what an 'entendre' is, but what is an 'entrende'? Is that the main portion of dinner one receives in a fancy bistro?

*By the way, I have always envisioned DIE as an 's.h.e'*

Julian nearly frightened the life out of me at the end, I think I'm getting over-immersed into these stories...nah. How do you keep writing these fantastic chapters? (This is more of a personal preference for myself ) lol. More! More! please.

Sorry sorry for not commenting for a while! heh kitteh preparations kept me busy....no excuse but still a fact

Aaaanyway, story gets more and more exciting, the plot thickens and Athlain seems to have some good respect for mighty Julian...now that's good! That fine lady could teach Athie some good stuff!

One thing though....as being a truly native Nord I can't see the name Rigmor as male!!!! See this is an old scandinavian female name, no way a man can be named Rigmor! jeez hehe, but I think Bethesda maybe isn't familiar with swedish and norwegian names

More examples of female "nord-names" : Rigmor, Sigrid, Runa, Ingeborg, Ingegerd, Helga... The males are called : Olaf, Olof, Sven, Harald, Sigurd, Erik, Gustaf...

All these names are old but some are in still in use!

Now I'm sitting waiting for the continuation, tomorrow eve Princess Indra also will be waiting!

I knew an Ingrid once IRL - picture it...Miami, Florida, the years ago don't matter. One of the tallest, best looking, best built guys I've ever seen walks up to me. I'm not drawn to blondes usually, nor blue eyes...but there are times when you realize that is just nit-picking. Then suddenly this lovely female voice with a thick Nordish (Norse) accent wafts across the shedrow. I'm looking around...you guessed it, Ingrid was a female. We ended up being best of friends after the initial shock wore off.

"Don't leave the fort..." *gulp*

Loved it Trey

All- Based on minque’s note about “Nordic” names, I have changed Bethesda’s “Rigmor” to the gender-correct (I hope) “Rikolfr.”

@Acadian- Yep. “Congratulations. You did a good job with that last quest. Your reward is an even more difficult task.”

Athlain is a great one for justifying his choices- I think it goes with that “Voice of the Emperor” power.

Nits agreed and fixed- had looked at this one so long, I stopped seeing the actual words.

@SubRosa- Precisely right. Though Athlain may not like Tharsten much, he cannot fault his need to test this unknown Legion officer who shows up with insulting questions and assumptions. And this is certainly a moment where Athlain must decide who he is- or wants to be. The choice- and the results- appear below.

@mALX- Thank you. I wanted to create an atmosphere of tension, with Athlain feeling almost as hemmed in as the guilty Skaal warrior. And also to remind everyone that he is doubly trapped- by the Skaal test and by Julian’s unexpected questions.

@Destri- Your wait has been rewarded- with another 1500 words or so. I think that the “feel” of Bloodmoon is one of the most important aspects of the expansion. The environment, so different from that of Vvardenfell, is a character in its own right. I hope to capture that… As I noted elsewhere, I have been furiously cribbing from you and others in terms of building a “supporting cast,” populated with distinct, believable characters.

And Athynae has certainly taken over my keyboard every time she appears. I credit the imagination of her “mother” for her vivid personality.

Julian is another incredibly “alive” character whose creator has allowed me to enhance my story with an important role.

@hazmick- Yes, Julian has a way of suddenly reminded us of her presence- often with questions Athlain would prefer not to answer. And, even though you edited it out, I added a bit to the part that follows this one just for you.

@minque- Everyone knows that princess kitties take priority over anything else! Just ask the kitties! I have been pleased that Julian’s appearance has been so well-received. Many thanks to haute for her assistance. As you will see, I followed your advice on “Rigmor.” It is very helpful to have a Nordic “technical advisor” handy to catch that sort of thing. (You’ll have to tell Freddo if you speak to him….)

@Remko- Too many seasons of police shows (and especially NCIS). “No, we aren’t charging you with anything. For now. Just don’t plan any long trips.”

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Dawn came early to Fort Frostmoth, even though the night had seemed interminably long. I had no appetite, but still stopped by the barracks dining hall for some hot tea and a biscuit. The tea was a comfort, but the biscuit sat like a rock in my belly. When I entered the small office, Pilus Prior Julian was already seated at the table, looking as fresh as if she had just come back from a two-week leave. And yet, there was a thick stack of parchment near her right elbow covered with precise script running in ruler-straight lines across the page. She ignored those pages as she greeted me, instead glancing through the small leaves of her notes as I drew out the chair opposite her and sat down.

With great difficulty, I forced myself to sit still and to match her unreadable lack of expression with my own bland look of attentiveness. Not wanting to stare at those grey-green eyes, I found my gaze drawn to the notes in her hands. Well-crafted things, especially of a type I had never seen before, interested me greatly, and her “pocket journal” was one such. The leaves were held together by a tight coil of stiffened brass wire threaded through perforations along one edge of each page. I wondered who had devised such a clever item, and who had crafted it. As she turned the leaves, with their indecipherable markings, I let my eyes trace the loops of brass- around and around, endless circles chasing one another into eternity….

“Sir? Are you awake?” Julian’s voice broke through my reverie and I wrenched my attention back into focus as she watched me with the slightest crease of a frown marking her forehead.

“Yes, sorry Pilus Prior. Did you ask me something?”

Her expression cleared and she said, “No sir, not yet.”

She set aside her notes and continued, “You were telling me about the Skaal Test of Wisdom?”



Korst Wind-Eye had explained the consequences of exile from Skaal, and made it clear that it was a terrible fate for a member of the clan. But he still had not answered the questions that troubled me the most- if I sentenced Rikolfr to death, how would the penalty be carried out- and who would do it? So I asked him again, and again, he answered my questions with some of his own:

“Is it not true that in Cyrodiil, a noble or an officer convicted of a capital offense has the right to choose the manner of his death? The right to die by the blade- even to ‘fall upon his sword’? And is it not also true that for such a one to die by the hangman’s rope is considered a disgrace?”

When I agreed that these things were true, the shaman continued, “Perhaps, as some do, you consider that death is the end, that there is nothing more. And if you believe that, then the way a man dies is of no consequence- done is done. But to the Skaal, the manner of a warrior’s death is very important- just as important as it is to an Imperial noble.”

He looked at me to make sure I understood, and waited for me to form the next question.

“And what is the manner of death that a Skaal warrior- one convicted of a serious crime- would prefer?”

Korst touched the wolf totem he wore around his neck and explained:

“To the Skaal, death in battle or by the teeth and claws of the noble prey is best. In the case of a crime against the clan, the guilty man may choose a death suited to a warrior, a death that will remove the stain of his transgression. He will be taken to the pen at the edge of the village, where I will summon the Caenlorn, the ceremonial wolves of the Skaal. And they will devour him. Allowing the sacred wolves to consume the flesh ensures that the Spirit may cycle through this world once again. It is an honorable death, fit for a warrior, even one who has broken faith with his brothers and sisters. It is a rite of atonement, for his spirit will be purified and reborn into a new life. The Caenlorn are only summoned for such ceremonies as this. Other times, they reside in the world of the spirit with the All-Father.”

The blood was roaring in my ears and I felt a wave of dizziness wash over me. The shaman waited until I had drawn several shuddering breaths before he concluded:

“The judgment is yours, Athlain of the Legion. Should Rikolfr Halfhand be exiled- or should he go to the wolves? You must decide quickly; any delay is needless cruelty to the guilty man.”

My thoughts were a jumble and I desperately tried to sort them out. Exile- or being fed to the wolves- was there no other way? What sympathy I might have felt for Halfhand was tempered by the fact that he had leveled the charge against his rival in full knowledge of the possible outcome. He had been perfectly willing to condemn a fellow Skaal to one fate or the other. So the question of “fairness,” if such a term applied, was decided. That left only the question of the penalty that I would pronounce.

My first impulse was to choose exile- was not life always better than death, no matter what? But I considered how Korst had described the circumstances of exile from the Skaal – and I thought about the exile I had nearly imposed upon myself, at a… difficult time. In the end, I weighed in my mind which I would prefer- a warrior’s death, a death with honor and some promise of redemption; or a lingering death-in-life, shunned by all who knew and loved me, forever sundered from everything I had known. Without a word, I rose and went to the Great Hall to tell Rikolfr Halfhand his fate.



We walked to the edge of the village, a silent procession led by Korst Wind-Eye. I followed him, with Tharsten Heart-Fang at my side. Behind us came Rikolfr, flanked by Skaal guards. The rest of the Skaal appeared in small groups, watching silently, waiting to hear what the outlander in their midst had decided for one of their own.

Scanning those stony faces and icy eyes, I fought the impulse to clear my throat, to equivocate, to beg their understanding. Instead, I spoke slowly and clearly, as if reporting to my commander:

“Rikolfr Halfhand, you have admitted to making a false charge of theft against Engar Ice-Mane. You have further admitted that you made this charge in the certainty, and indeed the hope, that Ice-Mane would be sent into exile or to his death.”

I paused, giving everyone present time to digest my words. Turning to Rikolfr, I asked him,

“Do you admit to this crime here, before the clan?”

He nodded convulsively, unable to make any sound beyond his ragged breathing.

“Very well. It therefore falls to me, as I have been empowered by your chieftain, to pronounce your doom. Hear now my sentence. Rikolfr Halfhand of the Skaal, I will give to you a warrior’s death, so that your passing may be of some benefit. You are to be fed to the wolves, as is the way of the Skaal. May your spirit be cleansed, renewed, and returned; as the All-Maker has promised.”

With no hesitation or words of protest, Rikolfr walked to the center of the pen and waited with his head held high. Korst raised the wolf totem from around his neck and chanted a phrase in the ancient Nordic language. The wolves appeared as if from the very air itself, creatures of smoke and shadow. And I watched. I did not want to, but I had to. If I could not look upon the results of my decision, I had no right to make it. I will not describe Rikolfr’s death- it is enough that I witnessed it- and that he died in a manner fit for a warrior.

When it was done, and the wolves had disappeared in a flash of magic, Tharsten Heart-Fang came to stand before me. He held out a hand to one of the guards, who gave him a helm made of wolf hide.

“Ye have shown mercy, allowing him to die with honor. Take this, the Helm of the Wolf’s Heart, as a symbol of your wisdom. Though it is unlikely, perhaps you can become more like the wolves we revere.”



I reached inside my cuirass and drew out a folded bit of hide and laid it on the table.

“There it is,” I said harshly, “my ’reward.’ My reward for having a man torn apart by wolves.”

Julian, her hand involuntarily touching the insignia of rank on her own helmet, shook her head.

“No sir. Your reward for seeing justice done and for making sure an innocent man did not die.”

I really liked this chapter. I could feel the weight of the decision on Athlain's shoulders and when the decision was reached, you handled the death brilliantly. Thankyou for this wonderful chapter and I hope there will be more soon.

P.S: The little bit on the end is lovely, thankyou again.

Wow. Powerful, indeed. Three comments on this wonderful chapter:

1. It seems our Fair Lady of Anvil invented the spiral notebook.

2. I have never been more proud of Athlain than at this moment:

3. As hazmick so astutely pointed out, the final scene between Julian and Athlain was beautiful.

This is probably the most powerful chapter so far. Athlain's struggle to make the right decision for the Skaal, even if it went against his own inclination - one that fit with their own traditions, beliefs. It became even more so when Julian helped Athlain come to terms with his decision in the end. All I can say is WHEW !!!!!!! Gobble...Gobble Gobble!!!! And MORE !!!!

This chapter left me feeling as if I had experienced something, not just read it. AWESOME !!!

As someone who had ‘lived’ (if one could call it that) under a self-imposed form of exile, Athlain is uniquely qualified to judge what awaited Rikolfr should the punishment spare the guilty man’s life. In the end, Athlain chose the only option that his conscience would allow. Even Julian sees that. And I think that, despite the professionalism which would never allow her personal feelings to compromise the objectivity of her report, in her heart she knows that she would have done the same.

It appears Julian has a Dwemer-journal, who else would devise such a tricksy thing. Of course the Dwemer name for it probably has 10 consonants in a row...

Good touch with the observation that hanging is a disgraceful method of death. Depending on how it is done, it can be very slow and excruciating as well. Unlike the more "noble" options such as beheading.

I will summon the Caenlorn
He will summon one of a pair of Bosmer brothers from Anvil? Never saw that coming! '

In the end, Athlain took the choice I expected. It is the one of the man you have shown him steadily becoming ever since the beginning of BotM. Solstheim has changed him. Made him stronger, harder, and at the same time come to truly understand the value of the relationships he has. That really is the strength of this story, it gives us that steady development of Athlain's character as he has passed from an adolescent to a man.

Though it is unlikely, perhaps you can become more like the wolves we revere.
I wonder if Tharsten's words might be prophetic?

I liked the form of execution. It reminds me of the old movie The Vikings, with Kirk Douglas and Tony Curtis. When the Viking King was captured by the English, they were going to throw him bound into a pit of wolves. Tony Curtis' character drew his sword, cut the king's bonds, and gave him the weapon. The king then leaped into the pit, to die fighting, sword in hand, his soul bound for Valhalla.

Dang! Sub Rosa, I was just about to quote that very scene...from that very movie!!! I still remember the lines...

"I demand the right of a Viking to die fighting"

and the way he yelled "ODIN!!!" as he jumped in...


Obviously you and I watch the same type of movies

...er...


then again...

I loved the question you raised: Isn't life always better than death? And then had Athlain realise how much cutlture can make a difference in answering that question.

Need..... More.... AArrgghhh...

@hazmick- My thanks- and there is a bit of business in this latest just for you. (I had part of the interaction already, just added some “flavor,” so to speak).

@Acadian- That notebook was just one of those things- more “Julian as Gibbs” for the NCIS fans. And I admit to being pleased with the passage you cite- Athlain has grown into his responsibilities. As for Julian, it is very important to me to get her right- and I see her, especially in her younger incarnation, as tough but fair.

@mALX- Thank you so much. You have such a talent for making your characters and their world come to life… so I am pleased to return the favor. And I am glad Athlain’s struggle works, without turning him into Hamlet- although the wolves turned Rikolfr into cutlets…. Sorry. I have read so much Maxical that my twisted sense of humor is out of control.

@Destri- Exactly right about the exile- which Athlain rather let slip to Julian…. But she is willing to give an honest assessment of his actions. She has not yet decided whether he is guilty of other things, but she will not let him feel guilt for making the right decision.

@SubRosa- You are probably right; the journal must have come from Kagrenac’s Planbook. Hanging- Korst wanted to show Athlain that the idea of a “noble death” was not necessarily “barbaric”- just that different cultures have different concepts of “noble” versus “disgraceful.” I was kind of also remembering Frankie Pentangeli from The Godfather. Caenlorn- Yes, another failure of Bethesda’s name generator- although Maenlorn never appears in Bloodmoon. Maybe that is the name for the “spirit-bears?” Thank you for seeing Athlain’s growth- that really is the “Journey of Discovery” in the subtitle. Interesting that you mention The Vikings. When I was casting about for a name to substitute for Rigmor, the first one I considered was “Einar”- from the Kirk Douglas character in that movie.

@D.Foxy- I guess Bethesda watched the same movies we all did.

@Remko- When Athlain finally put himself in the place of the guilty man, he realized that there was only one choice. And your wish for more is granted.

@Everyone- This one is a bit long, coming in at over 2000 words. I hope that isn’t a problem… Also, I stole a bit of characterization from Cardboard Box- credit where credit is due.

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Seeing a man die that way, knowing that I had been the one to choose his fate, weighed heavily upon me. There was a bitterness to the wind that seemed to find its way to my very core. I ignored Tharsten’s doubtful endorsement of my “wisdom” and began to turn away; to go… somewhere. Before I could decide on a destination, Korst Wind-Eye silently signaled me to attend him, so I followed the shaman to a quiet spot in the lee of one of the houses. He did not try to comfort me, which I appreciated. Instead, he spoke quietly:

“You are still troubled in spirit. But the events of this day are only a part of that. If you will recall, I recommended that, before you began this journey, you take care of any unfinished business. That is still my advice. A great wrong has been done to you, and you will not find peace until you resolve it. I cannot tell you how to proceed- no one can. You are the only one who can decide what must be done. My counsel is that you leave us for a time and find an ending- whether it be forgiveness or vengeance.”

Korst’s words gave me the direction I needed; besides, there were few choices available on Solstheim. The mead hall was the last place I needed to go- one drink would lead to many- and there were no answers at the bottom of a tankard. So I cast the spell that would bring me back to Fort Frostmoth, to some semblance of civilization. I shuddered as I recalled Gaea Artoria asking me if I had “gone native.” Before today, I had been certain of my answer.

At the fort, I spent a quiet night in the barracks, speaking to no one. The troops sensed my dark mood and left me alone, content to wrestle with their own bleak thoughts. I purposely avoided Saenus, who would have tried to break through to me, to find out what troubled my sleep. And I also decided that I had nothing new to report to Gaea. In fact, the only “official business” I conducted besides sleeping in a Legion bunk was to draw a new shield from the armory, leaving my borrowed Nordic one behind.

When dawn came, I ate a sketchy meal and went to the dock, hoping Basks-in-the-Sun was still there. He was about to cast off, and I hailed him, asking where he was bound.

“Raven Rock,” he replied, “then Khuul.” I jumped aboard and handed him some coins before finding a place to huddle in the bow. The shipmaster brought me a cup of tea and one for himself as well, brewed on a small burner near the cabin. We drank it in silence, watching the tree-clad shore slide by on our right. Despite the cold, the Argonian always seemed more alive when he had the deck of the ship under his clawed feet. I also noticed that he still wore the enchanted gauntlets I had provided. I quietly wished that someone could give me a gift that would take away the cold that seemed to have taken up residence inside me.

We made a fast passage and I was interested to see a large cargo-hauler tied up on the opposite side of the pier. She rode low in the water, as if fully laden, but her crew lounged about the deck, apparently in no hurry to get under way. As I walked up the slope from the shore, I saw that the trader’s shop had been completed, a sign that the colony was progressing.

Even so, Falco appeared to have aged several years since I had last seen him, and he greeted me almost as a drowning man would welcome a rescuer. He clapped me on the shoulder and essayed a vague smile, saying:

“Athlain! Glad to see you! Your being here is the first bit of good news I’ve gotten in a while. If I didn’t know better, I would swear this whole enterprise is cursed.”

He paused before adding grimly, “Or that someone is working actively to see that it fails.”

“Sir?” I responded.

“You saw the replacement supply ship at the dock? Unfortunately, it brought more than construction materials- it also brought trouble. Specifically, the captain, Baro Egnatius. He’s demanding extra payment for delivering the supplies and taking the ore back to the mainland. He keeps using the phrase ‘hazard pay,’ as if this job is more dangerous than any other. Well, I’m not going to pay it! I’ve given up trying to reason with him; please see if you can do better.”

Money was not an issue for me- especially not now that I had access to my locker at the fort. So I cautiously inquired, thinking it might just be a matter of a bribe to smooth things over. But when I probed a bit, Falco shook his head and told me,

“He’s asking for a ridiculous sum- more than his ship and all its cargo are worth. I won’t even repeat it. See if you can talk some sense into him; we have to make this ore shipment. He’s still down by the dock; says he ‘won’t move’ in case someone ‘tries something’.”

I agreed to do my best and went looking for someone who fit Falco’s description of the difficult captain. Of course, there were only a handful of people in Raven Rock, so anyone new stood out. Captain Egnatius stood out more than most- or at least his paunch did. He was a portly Imperial, and not even the cut of his expensive clothing could hide his girth. He stood at the foot of the gangway with his arms folded and the air of a man prepared to repel boarders.

I walked up and nodded to him, inquiring: “Captain?”

He gave me a contemptuous once-over and sniffed, “Are you the errand-boy? Do you have my extra payment? I already told them that if I had to make this trip on top of Elberoth’s run, it would cost them. And I’m getting tired of waiting.”

I ignored his rudeness, thinking instead that Elberoth was the name of the Bosmer who had captained the ship that wrecked up the coast. I smiled politely and said,

“Captain, I imagine you signed a contract that laid out the compensation for your services. And I doubt if it said anything about ‘extra payment’ for a routine run.”

He sneered in response and grumbled, “I will speak slowly, so you can understand. This boat doesn’t go anywhere ‘til I have that money in my hands. Your boss knows all this, so unless you’re here to pay up, get lost. It’s a good thing you’re dealing with me instead of Elberoth, or you might get hurt.”

That was the second time he had mentioned Elberoth, so I asked how well he knew the Bosmer.

“He’s a good friend of mine, as a matter of fact. Lousy navigator, but a real fighter. Always brandishing that stupid sword and threatening to ‘run somebody through.’ But what do you care? Why don’t you just go and fetch my money, instead of wasting my time?”

It was clear he was not going to listen to me. It was also clear that I could not simply threaten him or attack him. If being arrogant or obnoxious were capital crimes, the greater part of Summerset Isle would be empty, not to mention two-thirds of Valenwood- the males, at least. That last thought brought me back to the Bosmer captain, Elberoth. Egnatius did not appear to know that he was dead. Perhaps there was a way to put that information to use…. But my first responsibility was to report back to Falco.

The colony manager shrugged with irritation when I reported my failure. “No luck, eh? But I think you may be right about using Elberoth’s death to our advantage. I’m not suggesting you lie or anything- but… why don’t you see if Apronia Alfena knows something that would help?”

I could not help recalling Athynae’s admonition about the young Imperial woman, and suppressed a smile at the memory. Of course, if Athynae found out that I had spoken to her, I wouldn’t have much to smile about. Sobered, I saw Apronia coming out of the trading post, arms laden with packages. When I greeted her she immediately shoved the greater part of her burden into my arms and began walking toward a small house.

“It’s so nice to see you again, Athlain. And I’m happy you paid attention and had them build the trading post, instead of a smoky old blacksmith’s shop! It’s amazing how few people listen to good advice, don’t you think? They can’t stop talking long enough to hear what anyone else has to say. They just go on and on, as if their every thought is sent directly from the Divines. But thank The Nine for the trading post- I was forced to wear the same three outfits for the longest time. All my others were ruined in the shipwreck.”

By then, we had reached the house and I was able to quickly interject a question as she waited for me to juggle the packages and hold the door for her at the same time.

“Yes, absolutely. About Captain Elberoth- did you…?”

That was as far as I got before she was off again,

“Oh, him! He was completely incompetent as a ship captain, I can tell you that much. Such an odd little Bosmer, too. Thought he was the best fighter in the province. Always waving that sword around. But then the ship crashed, and he was injured. For all his talk of being a good fighter, he sure didn't last long against those horrible undead things. I ended up taking his saber, and using it to defend myself. About the only thing he ended up being good for, in my opinion.”

I gratefully dropped the packages on a table as she continued,

“It certainly came in handy. Now that I think of it, though, I don't really have much of a use for it.”

Reaching into a corner, she pulled out the old saber she had used to kill the bear on our memorable walk to the colony and thrust it at me point first.

“Here, you take it. Not like it's worth much of anything, but odds are you'd be more likely to use it than I ever will, what with you being in the Legion and all.”

I carefully took the weapon from her and she began opening her parcels, humming a happy tune as she tried on hats. With a feeling of relief, I stepped out the door and closed it behind me.

With time to actually hear myself think again, I examined the saber. It was a fairly typical steel weapon of the type, with decent balance and a reasonable edge. Of note was the script on the hilt, which appeared to be Aldmeris for- “Foed Shopper?” I wiped at the inscription and realized that what I had taken to be the “d” and “S” were actually a hyphen and a bit of crusted dirt covering a “C”. That made more sense, even if it was still a little bombastic. But the important thing was- the sword was instantly recognizable to anyone who had seen it before. An idea came to me, and I turned the saber so that I was carrying it by the forte, leaving the inscribed hilt uppermost and clearly visible.

In that manner, I casually walked down to the dock, passing close enough to Egnatius that he could get a good look. I did not speak, or even glance in his direction, just stood nearby, looking out to sea. After a moment, he came nearer and reached a hand out, then pulled it back as if he had been burned. Then he spluttered:

“But, how did you.... where is...? You mean he's- dead? You didn't.... you didn't KILL him, did you?”

I did not speak, but grasped the hilt of the saber and made a few passes with it that would have sent Carbo into apoplexy. They had the same effect on Egnatius, but for a different reason. He grunted as if he had been struck in his ample stomach and whined:

“Okay, listen. Maybe I made a bit of a mistake, all right? Everybody makes mistakes, don’t they? Sure they do. So- how about I just take the ship and deliver the ore, and we won't have any sort of problem at all. Just... just don't hurt me. Look, I'm going now, see?”

He was waving so frantically at the crew to make sail and cast off that he nearly tripped going up the gangway. I gave a sword salute, proud that I managed the move without slicing off the tip of my nose.

Whohooo! Me like! I remember doing that quest, ahh it's a great one!. I really like the way Athlain handled it, very well described indeed. But I hope he won't tell Thyna that he had a chat with Apronia and certainly not that he helped her with her parcels...I'm not so sure miss Sarethi would approve!

I'm so sorry I haven't commented for some time, but you're such a fast updater so....

(That goes for the rest of you as well)

This was a wonderful self-contained story! I agree that it did not lend itself to splitting or shortening. The more or your story I read, the more I love Athlain. Let's add cleverness to his repertoire! As ever, this was simply a delight to read.

This description simply sings!

I thought this was hilarious. Buffy only joined me in chuckling after she read the last clause. Lol.

And then Apronia goes on to do exactly that! Oh my, I hope she never meets Delphine Jend!

Oh my! Treydog earns his own 'no beverages while drinking' , er, reading (thanks Foxy) caution.

Nits?
Perhaps me, but this seems like one too many clauses trying to find smooth cover in this sentence? Perhaps: 'The shipmaster brought me a cup of tea and one for himself as well, brewed on a small burner near the cabin. We drank in silence, watching the tree-clad shore slide by on our right.'

I would recommend 'as' here.

ARGH !!! I love it !!!

This was my fave paragraph, it had two really poignient places that I am quoting out of it:



Athlain's inner dialogue is always my fave part of this story, he makes deep feel like simple common sense - he is an Awesome character !!!!

Oh my! Treydog earns his own 'no beverages while drinking' caution


You mean "No beverages while READING" don't you, dear, delightful, oh-usually-so-accurate friend Acadian, don't you???


Woo - heee....oh boy, this time you missed all three cables and have to do a go-around!

oooh! that was brilliant! Athlain handled the situation very well and it was good to see Apronia again. And of course, one of my absolute favourite characters in this story, Basks-in-the-sun. I do hope he gets some sort of footwear to fit his 'MorrowingArgonian' feet. Can't wait for more!

Basks is going to Raven Rock? He's with the Enclave, kill him!

I quietly wished that someone could give me a gift that would take away the cold that seemed to have taken up residence inside me.
Very nicely phrased. I suspect the person who can give him that gift has red hair, and can be found at his mother's house...

If being arrogant or obnoxious were capital crimes, the greater part of Summerset Isle would be empty
Indeed!

Apronia is likewise delightful, proof that the above statement holds true for other parts of Tamriel than Summerset...

Finally an equally delightful way for Athlain to solve the problem of the recalcitrant captain. All without chopping his own nose off!

Sorry for not commenting and feeding the Ego dear trey, but it seems you have quite the following regardless. All caught up and it looks like Athlain is dealing with the situations as well as he could. I particularly enjoyed the scene of him barely managing to whip the sword around to intimidate teh greedy captain.

@Grammar Nazis: Yes, I wrote 'teh' instead of the. Stuff that in your pipe and smoke it.

p.s. Oh man...here we go.....

I won't start quoting the passages in this chapter that I liked. I'm afraid I wouldn't be able to stop.



Okay, maybe just a few:

Which I find interesting considering the fact that Athynae has no problem talking to any man that crosses her path!

I just loved the irony in Athlain’s conversation with Apronia!

It's always nice to know that we men are good for something.

Once again we are shown why being the target is the safest position to occupy whenever Athlain handles a blade. Thankfully this time he didn't hurt himself!

Ditto to all the above! Everyone has quoted my favorite passages and pointed out the same things I noticed.

Late to the party as usual.

@minque- Captain Egnatius is fun, because you really don’t have to do anything… And I imagine Athlain will have enough smarts to leave his meeting with Apronia out of any letters home. Although it is hard to say.

@Acadian- That bit of description was a direct result of reading Cardboard Box. As to the remark about Valenwood, I added the qualifier when I remembered the gender of several Bosmeri members of my audience. The inscription was one of those bits of good fortune that arrive of their own accord. I was trying to come up with something to explain how the saber was instantly recognizable.

Corrections agreed to and corrected. Sometimes my sentences turn into a Tom Waits stream-of-consciousness ramble…

@mALX- Thank you. Your insights into character mean so much to me, because you write so many vivid ones, with specific, wonderful personalities.

@hazmick- Basks will appear again- quite soon, in fact!

@SubRosa- I don’t think my FO3 version of Trey has made it to Raven Rock yet… Yes, Athlain’s source of warmth is at Indarys Manor. And I have a feeling some interesting conversations are taking place there. Athlain’s swordsmanship must be improving- he managed to not destroy anything or inflict any injuries this time!

@Blackhand- I always welcome comments from one of my earliest readers. Especially one who has allowed me to “borrow” his character for occasional appearances. Athlain with a sword is rather like a golden retriever and dynamite with a lit fuse- he is unclear on the concept, and something spectacularly bad is going to happen.

@Destri- Well, of course the rules don’t apply to Athynae! In the words of more women than I can remember- “That’s different.” Apronia was fun to write, because her presence in Raven Rock is rather a mystery… and Athlain is still fairly fumble-witted around assertive young ladies (the only sort he seems to meet!) See sword-wielding remarks above.

@haute- Late, but always welcome! After all, how can I keep stealing Julian away from her important work if her creator does not come along to watch over her?

@Everyone- Athlain continues to recount his actions related to taking care of “unfinished business” with the East Empire Company, a process that is far more involved than he had expected. And Julian of Anvil continues to be a (usually) silent presence as he does so. Her visible role is limited in this and the next few episodes, but be assured she is hearing everything Athlain says- and likely surmising many things he does not…

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24 Frostfall
Notes on morning interview with Agent Athlain Treyson-

Subject mentions “a great wrong” and “vengeance.” Hold questions in re: these statements, as subject seems to become so deeply engaged in telling story that he forgets reason for inquiry- and even my presence. Based on subject’s movements after leaving Skaal village, statements appear to refer to the Company- or someone in the Company. Also of interest- subject admits to being out of uniform at one point and indicates a strong, personal reaction to the possibility of exile. Why? Schedule additional interviews with Guard Saenus Lusius and Cult missionary to nail down timeline in re: Agent Treyson going missing, Mirisa rescued, attack on Fort, Agent Treyson’s return. Where was he all that time? Doing what? Is it related? How? More here than covered by orders.

There was nowhere to rest in Raven Rock, and I very badly needed sleep after dealing with the avaricious captain and the equally… talkative Apronia. Holding poor, dead Elberoth’s saber had also wakened a familiar melancholy- a return of my never-completely-quenched yearning to be a swordsman. But I could almost feel the sword resisting me, and ceased my attempts to wield it before I could hurt myself. Instead, I considered an area in which I was competent- magic.

Returning to the fort would simply be a matter of casting an Intervention spell, with no need to wait for mundane transport. Following on the heels of that thought was the idea of resetting my teleport locus to the outskirts of the colony. But I decided against it for the moment. Basks-in-the-Sun had told me that he made the circuit from the Fort to the colony to Khuul each day, starting in the morning. And I found comfort in the Argonian’s companionable silence- and even the short sea voyage itself. Things seemed clearer out there, between wind and wave. And I could even entertain the illusory thought that I would just stay on board one day and go all the way back to Vvardenfell, to my home….

Putting aside thoughts of swords and of home, both of which were beyond my reach, I cast the Intervention spell and returned to the ruined bailey. When the disorientation had passed, I went to the bunk I had claimed and set about checking and repairing my equipment. When I was finished with my armor and weapons, my eyes strayed to my alchemy apparatus. It had been some time since I had prepared any of my own potions, depending instead on Athynae’s. But she was gone, and I did not know when I might see her again. In my head, I heard Carbo saying,

“One of the worst failures for an officer is the failure to prepare adequately. When you’re up to your- ehhm- armpits in a swamp, with a couple of thousand Argonians debating whether to roast you or just eat you raw, that is NOT the time to discover your supplies are back in the fort or on a wagon somewhere. Don’t trust to the gods or to luck- good soldiers make their own luck.”

Yes, and a good alchemist makes his own potions, so he will have them at need.

I spent the greater part of the night refining and testing the ingredients I had found on Solstheim, learning their properties. But I was also able to create a number of restorative and curative potions, half of which I left with the quartermaster. If Fort Darius had been at the very end of the Empire’s long and sporadic list of “Things to Do,” Frostmoth was not even a footnote. And I hoped just knowing the potions were available might improve the troopers’ morale. In any event, the work made me feel better and I slept well.

At dawn, I went down to the dock and waited as Basks-in-the-Sun guided his courier ship into its mooring. When the small amount of cargo had been off-loaded, I climbed aboard and found a place out of the way. The Argonian captain gave a few orders and we were soon moving west along the coast. With one last look at the sail and the angle of the tiller, Basks brought our morning tea. He rolled one eye at me and said drily:

“One hears so much gossip on the docks. It is hard to know what to believe.”

He took a sip from his cup and bared his teeth slightly, then faced forward before continuing:

“For example, it is said that the brave Captain Egnatius is in the market for some new trousers. His old ones met with an unfortunate- accident- the other day. He had to throw them overboard, alas.”

I matched his serious tone as I replied, “The sea is a perilous place, I have heard; especially for fine trousers. I do hope the captain finds a pair that will fit him- something suitable for one of his particular… gravity.”

Basks closed his eyes and thumped the deck once with his tail, signifying a point scored. We finished our tea in silence and he left me watching the water curling away from the bow.

It was a wonder to me that I could feel so exhilarated on board a ship, especially after my first experience with sailing. But whatever illness had afflicted me then had not recurred, for which I was profoundly grateful. In fact, as I thought about it, I realized that I had not succumbed to any disease or illness in some time- other than exhaustion and depression, brought on by pushing too hard. The thought having occurred to me, my inexplicable health was now a puzzle that I was determined to solve. Solstheim’s creatures were known to carry diseases unlike any found on Vvardenfell. Yet, despite entering tombs, despite enduring freezing cold, despite encounters with clearly ailing animals- I had not fallen ill- not since Athynae had healed me. Before I could pursue the mystery further, a shout went up to indicate that Raven Rock was nigh.

With Captain Egnatius and the ore shipment on their way, I had expected Falco to be in a better mood, but he looked more miserable than ever. He overcame his gloom long enough to give me a brief smile and some gold- “a bonus,” he called it. He surveyed the growing colony and shook his head.

“You did a good job with Egnatius, and I appreciate it. We shouldn’t have any more trouble from him. But every time one problem is solved, another takes its place.”

He looked around before continuing in a quieter voice: “The logs from the mine don’t add up. Which means ore is disappearing before it gets to the storehouses. And, based on the shift schedules, Oryn Maren is the one making it disappear. But I need proof and I need you to get it.”

I nodded my acceptance, but asked: “How sure are you it’s him and not someone else? Or several ‘someones,’for that matter?”

Falco gave me a careful look before responding. “I won’t tell you my source, but I hear he’s hiding the stolen ebony in a chest in his house until he can pass it on. Find the chest and get the ore. He’s working in the mine right now, so you have a few hours.”

He reached into his pocket and drew out a key. “This will open his house. Search it and report back to me. We need the proof and we need it to be absolute.”

Ra'jirra finds this exchange a fine piece of speechcraft and is taking notes.

Julian’s presence is anything but silent. The questions she raises in her report hint at things that Athlain would not want to be made public. How far is she willing to go in order to discover the truth? Her final comment indicates that she is not yet sure of the answer.

QFT

In addition to heart palpitations, insomnia, confusion, disorientation, the tendency for long aimless wanderings in the snow, and the uncontrollable upward tilts of the mouth, it seems that love of Athynae has given proof against disease!

Ahh. . . more doggie snacks to savor!

I agree that the exchange about the trousers was pricelessly presented. A thump of the tail to you!

Hmm, another mystery.

It seems another task ahead.

Always a joy to travel with Athlain!

This chapter gives the feel that we are glimpsing snatches of memories, as if Athlain is going over in his mind how things occurred dove-tailing the present. It gives the feeling that there is a big picture we are only getting minute particles of now, but they are adding up to a stunning whole.

Athynae keeping her man from getting ill - now THAT is a good woman !!!

Keeping Athlain's illness at bay...Athynae
Because she couldn't be with him the whole way...Athynae
But she'll be back one day to stay...Athynae

Eh, you knew you couldn't get out of this without some of my terrible poetry the second you mentioned Athynae in the body of the chapter !!! Awesome Write Treydog !!!!

I can now count myself among the lucky people who own 'Morrowind: GOTY' and my new Nord, Hjolfyr, has just finished the EEC questline---It's so cool in Solstheim (No pun intended) and even though I sort of know what will happen next, you will still surprise and entertain me with this awesome story!