This is a lesson I have learned from you. There is nothing more disarming to a game-induced plot inconsistency than for the lead character to ponder the very question aloud and scratch their head.

A new treydog story! What a wonderful Christmas present!

This reminds me of the words of a Randy Travis song: 'Since the phone ain't ringin', I assume it still ain't you.'

I love how you are giving Athlain a mystical feel for the land. Nowhere better shown than in these two passages:

Here you tell us so very much about the mer in so very few and carefully assembled words!

A chirstmas present. Most of what I thought has already been said, the mirroring between Athlain and the land is well done and I think might become important later but his actionas also show flaws in his character. He could tell Falco where to go with the whole tree killing business, but he doesn't because he seems to want the simple direction orders offer. He's thinking more now though and I could see him refusing when he realises its an option.

So as ever the characters live and breathe and have their strengths and weaknesses, just like real people. His talking to miners should be most enjoyable because of this, but the real treat will be the bit after...

More? Please?

Ah, magical heebie-jeebies. The bane of any undertaking in Tamriel, and the Mages' Guild biggest opportunity for market expansion.

With Value-Driven Customer Satisfaction, and Paradigm Shifting Market Approaches, you could see some high levels of Demand Oriented Business Expansion. (And the word "expansion" officially gives me buzzword bingo.)


Yep. If only there was something that people could hold, that gave of light and warmth, such as in the form of a fire, and could be held in one hand, and possibly used to set problematic wood on fire...


Now, this is mostly a nit, but wouldn't Athlain have more experience in choosing volunteers that know one end of a mace from another?

I feel a pain
from missing Athlain
And though I'm not gay
I miss Athynae
Unless you want to see more of these prose
You'll add a chapter before everyone throws
up.

* Anon E. Mouse

******************** And now for some real torture:


The hunting dog scented along the ground as he ran. The trail was a long one. It started with the afternoon sun beginning to settle across the horizon. Now the early morning fog mingled with the steam that rose in a mist off his heaving flanks. A tiny grey squirrel clung to his dampened neck, her nails clutching tightly into his undercoat; her eyes masked by a blackened band of ragged cloth.

Sighting his prey, the hunting dog arched his head to the air, still on the full run. A low sound rumbled deep in his stomach and rose up through his gaping mouth. The baying heralded his arrival like a trumpet may herald the arrival of a king.

As he neared the object of his search he slowed. He was not the first to arrive. On the doorstep was a large wolf, his thick fur the color of a virgin snow. Beside him stood a slender fox, whose shiny black coat could easily cause him to be mistaken for a mink. (not minx) His eyes were cunning though. He had been the first to arrive.

The black fox eyed the newcomer for an extended moment before slowly dipping his eyelids for a sliver of a second; allowing the newcomer to approach.

The three set up a baying at the doorway of their prey. The ghostly howl of the winter wolf floated in the air as if part of the wind itself. The dogs deep bays nearly drowned out the soft yips of the black fox; almost, but not quite. The high-pitched chatter of the squirrel bombarded the little dachshound's ears like the keening of a banshee; even through the thick walls of the structure surrounding him.

Inside the safety of the barricade created by the walls and stout doors of his home, the long haired dachshund climbed over the back of the couch and peered down to the trio on his doorstep, then his eyes fell on the offending squirrel clinging to the back of the large hunting dog; all now illuminated by the early morning light.

With a sigh, he turned his head away from the sight, staring across the room as if seeing beyond the interior walls. A soft rustle caused him to look up in time to catch the motion of his wife gliding into the doorway, her long red hair gleaming in the morning light that was just beginning to filter in through the windows.

"Not again?" Her eyes showed sympathy for the little dachshund, but her mouth formed the words, "You know what you have to do."

Drooping eyes scanned across the room and fell on the metal box of the computer, the keyboard had a light film gathering from lack of use. With another sigh, the little dog climbed into the chair, pushing his paws down on the button that would set the computer whirring. His paws hovered over the keyboard, and then suddenly an inspiration hit.

"Yes! Yes!" He barked excitedly. His paws flew over the keyboard in a flurry of activity.

Hearing the tapping sounds emerging from withing the structure, the black fox, the winter wolf, and the hunting dog turned and silently slid into the mountains around them like ghosts evaporating into the forests of pine; each returning to their respective dens to await the food that would sustain them.

"Aaahhhh" They all sighed contentedly when the words came across the screen, "Blood on the Moon - Part 2, Last post by: treydog.

******* Hunting Dog

******* Hunting Dog Sad Faced Due To No Updates On This Thread:

****** Hunting Dog Climbing 15 Foot Up Tree To Peep In At Long Haired Dachshund

******* Sad Gray Squirrel (mALX)

******* Black Fox (Foxy)

******* Winter Wolf


*

@ Thomas Kaira- Many thanks for reading- and for highlighting a couple of my own favorite passages. It is true Athlain is hopeless with any sort of sword- but he is cursed with the knowledge of what good swordsmanship “should” look like.

@mALX- And a tip of the doggie ears to you, as well. And trust you to recognize that it seems odd to give already “magical heebie jeebie” trees something that could increase their sentience!

@SubRosa- My most humble thanks to you. One of the most important role-playing devices for me is to at least ACT as if the character’s actions have long-lasting effects- whether the game reflects them or not. Growing up in or near “coal country” has presented much firsthand experience of what happens when we tear into the earth and leave the “waste products” strewn across the landscape. And Athlain’s journey to “oneness” with the land is perhaps the most significant one he will take…

@Acadian- Thank you my friend. I have learned so much from you and Buffy about making the people in my stories live and breathe. The gardens at Indarys Manor are significant- because they show how Vvardenfell has changed since the end of the Blight. And they also show that, whatever his paternal heritage, Athlain also comes to his “feel” for Nature from his mother, as well.

@Olen- You indicate an important part of Athlain’s character- his desire for guidance and direction. Even as he “rejects” his own father- he seeks to fill the vacuum with surrogates. And in doing so, he is beginning to understand himself and his family. And- as I noted to Acadian- many of the excellent writers here have taught me by example how to populate a story with a whole cast of individual, 3-dimensional supporting players.

@Captain Hammer- I bow before your mastery of buzzwordiness… And yes, Athlain is better with blunt weapons- but he watched an awful lot of sword training at Fort Darius.

@Everyone- A word of warning- or perhaps two- what follows is a short post, one that has been “mostly written” for some time. I do not currently have anything else ready to go- and am uncertain when that will change. But- it is my hope that by beginning once more- I will begin once more. To paraphrase Barbara Hambly- “To be a writer, you must be a writer.” Sound advice which I will try to follow.

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

When I mentioned my assignment to hire guards, Julian’s gaze sharpened and she gave me a probing look. Her tone was carefully neutral as she asked:

“And when you were tasked to hire the guards, it was your understanding that the sole purpose was for the protection of the colony? There was no indication that there was any other reason?”

I thought I knew what she was asking, but I had learned the hard way that “filling in the blanks” or volunteering information was a bad idea. So I contented myself with the truth:

“To my knowledge at that time, the guards were to be hired to protect the colony.”

After I left Falco beneath his favorite tree, I took some time to consider the problem. As with most such situations, I tried to think about how Senior Trooper Carbo would handle it. Well, in the first place, he would never have found himself in this position. If it had been the Legion, he would have lined up the “volunteers” and yelled at them for 20 or 30 minutes straight. He would have remarked on their ancestry (questionable), their posture (atrocious), and their prospects for surviving the next six weeks (highly unlikely)- never repeating himself once. When you made your mark on that paper, the Legion owned you, body and soul.

But these people worked for wages, for the chance at a better life. Some of them even had families here. So I needed to tread carefully. If I insulted one of the men or elves of the colony, he might insist on settling it by combat. And then I would have to kill him. So- no yelling, no abuse, no talk of maggots or stupidity or the irretrievability of crania from bodily cavities. For just a moment, I felt almost nostalgic for my first days at Fort Darius.

In any event, I did not immediately approach anyone. Instead, I sat on a stump to watch the shift change. I wanted to see how the miners and other workers moved, how they acted around one another. Despite what Falco had said, choosing guards had less to do with how they handled weapons than how they handled themselves. A man who could swing a pick could be taught to use an axe… But his attitude was something else. The loudmouths and the bullies I dismissed out of hand. They were certainly combative enough, but I wanted guards - not brawlers. Giving any of those fellows authority would be like pouring naptha on a fire.

Likewise, I passed on the ones who shuffled along with their eyes downcast. No confidence was almost as bad as too much. By the time the crowding around the mine entry had cleared, I had marked three or four who I definitely wanted to speak with. The ones I wanted were the ones who walked with confidence, who the would-be toughs avoided. It is a common fallacy that bullies lack courage. That is not always true. They are, above all, opportunists. They pick on the weak because the weak are easier to pick on and they get more reward for their effort.

And that reminded me of one more of Senior Trooper Carbo’s stories. He had been the
”spear-carrier”- literally- on a recruiting trip to Bruma. The officer in charge had told him to “look for men who will do well and survive in the Legion.” When Carbo pointed out a huge Nord with a hideously scarred face, the officer nodded slowly and said,

“Maybe. But I would rather have whoever gave him those scars.”

So I did not want the bullies- I wanted the folk the bullies left alone.

The first prospect I approached was an Imperial who appeared to be about 30 years old- at least until I got a good look at his eyes- they were much older. When I introduced myself, he warily shook my hand and gave his name in return and got right to the point:

“Afer Flaccus- what is this about?”

“It’s a job offer. But why don’t we go inside the tavern and I will buy you a drink and explain.”

He accepted my offer, so we went into the tavern and found a table. When we were seated and had our drinks in front of us, Afer gave me a long look.

“I already have a job, but then, you know that. So- I will ask you again- what is this about?”

The Imperial did not mince words- so I didn’t either:

“Raven Rock is growing. And there are problems with that growth. Wild creatures- wild people- Falco has authorized me to hire guards. He will pay for equipment, plus a better wage than you are making as a miner.”

I glanced at the hands Afer had wrapped around his tankard.

“And I can see from your calluses that you have used a sword before this.”

He grunted and took a swallow of his drink before answering shortly,

“Caravan guard. I thought I would enjoy seeing the world. Mostly, I saw the rear end of the horse in front of me. Say what you want about Solstheim- there are no horses here.”

He paused and I finished the thought for him: “But there are plenty of horses’ ‘rear ends’ wherever you go.”

He tipped his tankard at me in salute and took a long drink. “Right.” He set the ale down and rubbed a thoughtful hand over his chin. “I can’t say I exactly enjoy grubbing after ebony down in those tunnels. Truth is, I wouldn’t have taken this job, except for the fact that at the time I was more interested in which ship was leaving soonest, rather than its destination.”

That presented a problem- perhaps more than one. Even though I was not currently acting on behalf of the Legion, I still could not simply ignore the presence of a possible criminal. Nor could I justify handing him armor and a sword. But- I had already made the offer; it would be difficult to withdraw it now. At last, I decided one circumspect question ought not lead to a bar brawl with my first prospective guard.

“And your desire to leave Cyrodiil- was that prompted by official interest in you- or, ahh- personal business?”

or the irretrievability of crania from bodily cavities


“Maybe. But I would rather have whoever gave him those scars.”
Someone's been watching The Magnificent Seven!

Athlain shows quite a bit of wisdom in his recruitment decisions. You can always teach someone how to fight, but you cannot teach them guts, or sense, or loyalty. Pappy Vitellus would approve!



nits:
And that reminded me of one more of Senior Trooper Carbo’s stories. He had been the
”spear-carrier”- literally- on a recruiting trip to Bruma. The officer in charge had told him to “look for men who will do well and survive in the Legion.” When Carbo pointed out a huge Nord with a hideously scarred face, the officer nodded slowly and said,
The forum added a line break into the middle of your second sentence.

Welcome back! What a delight to see this update!

Well, down to the business of hiring some guards. I loved Athlain's studied observations and logic and was totally on board with him. Plenty of wisdom there and I was as happy as he was until his dismay struck both of us. Uh oh. Gots to add asking about a criminal background to his recruiting checklist. Something tells me though, that all that smart pre-screening he did will serve to be more important in predicting what he is looking for than a candidate's past. Then of course is the difficulty of assessing if the interviewee is truthful. I bet you can trust your gut here, Athlain.

Sweet waters, green paths and a deep well of inspiration to you, my friend.

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT !!!! TREYDOG !!!!!! WOO HOO !!!!

In your usual brilliant way you quietly set scenes so real we can visualize them, and bring characters into your story and develop them before our eyes - all using only a few lines - AWESOME WRITE ... and you have been SOOOOO missed !!!!

Yay

It's great to see this continued. Athlain is a great character and I enjoyed his thoughts. His reminising of Fort Darius and Carbo gave a nice feeling of history to him (and showed he learnt his lessons) but it also made another point (or two). Athlain is becoming a match for his rolemodels now, he can lead, he's bright and he knows how to kill things. It shows how far he's come on and makes me wonder what will happen if (and I hope when) he meets Carbo again. It should e interesting to see the change in their dynamic.

I echo Acadian on the wisdom of his choices, though a shade more discussion may have been wise first to avoid his current predicament.

Anyway I hope you find the time/ inspiration/ long spring afternoons with a couple of ciders sitting on the proch with a laptop and cat required to continue this

Two excellent chapters:

This is Destri green with envy over a passage that was positively chilling!


Clearly Falco has never seen Athlain with a blade!

Like ‘Rosa, I was immediately reminded of The Magnificent Seven when Athlain ruminated on the sizing up of scarred men! I wonder what Athlain is prepared to do if Afer tells him that his affairs on the mainland are none of his concern? I don’t see Athlain invoking the authority of the Legion, just as I don’t see Afer becoming overly pugnacious if the job offer is retracted.

Of course, I may be wrong on both counts.

On the subject of inspiration and continuing:

Don’t beat yourself up too much over it, trey. Chaplin suspended the production of City Lights for months while trying to court the muse for an idea that eventually constituted five seconds of screen time. The muses are fickle mistresses, and they bore and tire easily. Sometimes it is simply beyond our power to sustain their affections, so they fly off. The good news is that, wherever they go, they eventually tire of the goings on in that place and come back to see how we have been getting on in their absence. They take pity on us because we are simply hopeless without them. So they stay just long enough to grow bored and tired all over again.

Can you tell that I have been going through a bit of this myself?

@SubRosa- I could not resist that little bit of Cyrodiilic latinization…. Wow- I guess Magnificent Seven is so ingrained that I forgot from whence I was borrowing. More recruiting goodness (I hope) follows.

@Acadian- Thank you, as always. I still stand in awe of your ability to create atmosphere and inhabit it with wonderful (and sometimes less-than-wonderful) people. Like many children- Athlain could not learn judgment at home, even though it was on offer. Fortunately, he got a good trainer at Fort Darius. As for Flaccus’ background- see below.

@mALX- High praise indeed from such a wonderfully inventive and descriptive writer. My humble thanks and apologies for the continuing absence.

@Olen- You summarize perfectly what I was hoping to convey- which means I succeeded! And yes, he still goes on what he “sees” and “feels,” rather than using his other skills to discover the truth. That will be tested again in the future in a much more serious situation.

@Destri- To make a master word-crafter such as yourself envious of one of my passages is highly gratifying. Athlain is cursed with the knowledge of what good swordsmanship IS, without being able to practice it himself. Afer Flaccus… affairs… are explained below. And yes- your words of wisdom on how to continue strike a responsive chord with me- thank you.

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

Afer gave an ironic bow at my delicacy of phrasing and smiled thinly. “Oh, purely personal.”

He leaned back in his chair and looked at the smoky ceiling. The smile grew slightly broader.

“There was a young lady in Leyawiin- and another in Bravil. Somehow, each of them got the idea that I was a good marriage prospect. Things were proceeding wonderfully until it turned out that the two of them were distant cousins. Letters were exchanged- the usual correspondence between cousins.”

He pitched his voice in a falsetto- “Did you HEAR about what Whosis wore to the castle ball? I swear I have seen better draperies in a peasant hovel. And then there was that fellow that Whatshername showed up with…. Speaking of which- I may be about to become affianced.” He cleared his throat and continued in a normal tone,

“After a few letters, with a few too many details, had passed back and forth, several other relatives became involved- the kind of relatives who have broad shoulders, large fists, and one eyebrow that seems to grow across all their foreheads. In sum, I decided ice and snow and wild Nords were a healthier alternative than staying around the Lower Niben.”

Flaccus’ talk of marriage reminded me suddenly of Athynae and the ruse of our “betrothal.” With that memory came a sharp pang of loneliness, as well as my own smile at our brief time together at Thirsk. Then there was the less-pleasant issue of the apparent marriage contract with Duke Dren. But she was no doubt safely installed at Indarys Manor by now, where Mother would see to her well-being…. In my mind, the stuffy tavern was replaced by the airy rooms of my former home. And the smell of spilled ale and of men who had worked long hours underground gave way to the aromas of flowers and fresh bread. At last, the Imperial broke into my thoughts by tapping his mug carefully on the table and asking:

“So- how about it? Hiring on as a guard strikes me as being less exciting than mining, and I could do with less excitement in my life. Besides, it might be better for me to be above ground if any- ah- relatives happen to show up here.”

I had been so lost in my reverie that it took a moment before I understood what he was saying. I nodded apologetically and reached across the table to clasp his hand.

“Yes. Certainly- all I ask is that you try to avoid any such… complications while you are here. And, a bit of friendly advice- Nord women generally carry weapons- and they don’t bother to wait on their relatives to settle- misunderstandings.”

Afer’s ruddy complexion paled a bit and he took a hasty gulp of his drink, then stood and muttered rather briskly:

“Right you are. Glad for the opportunity. Now, if there was nothing else?”

He suddenly seemed to be in a great hurry to leave, but then turned back and added:

“Don’t know how many you are looking to hire, but you might consider Gratian Caerellius- he’s a steady man.”

However questionable Afer Flaccus’ judgment might have been regarding his personal life, his assessment of Gratian matched my own. After locating the Imperial, I engaged him in a few moments of conversation. That was enough to let me know I had found my second guard. Gratian did not have the usual gift for easy speech that characterized the dominant race of Cyrodiil; in fact, he was taciturn almost to the point of silence. But his gaze was clear and unwavering, and the words he did use were direct and to the point. “Steady” was an excellent description of the man. My final choice came about almost by accident- or more precisely, as the result of a brawl.

The people in Raven Rock were usually well-behaved, or as well-behaved as could be fairly expected; considering they were stuck on a snow-covered island, doing hard manual labor, with few prospects beyond more of the same. Since Solstheim was an island, and one that had a long “dark season,” drinking was more than a just a pastime for many. And alcohol was always a potent catalyst for the simmering tensions between Nords and Imperials and Dunmer. Like most bar fights, no one really knew what started the one I witnessed that evening. A spilled drink, a poorly-considered joke, two people who just did not like each other… it could have been any or all of those things. What I did see were the four or five “active” participants, along with a much larger number of spectators shouting encouragement and advice.

I probably would have let it go- being in the Legion had taught me that it was sometimes better to allow people settle these things with their fists. Trying to clamp down too tightly could lead to a more serious explosion- one that meant serious injuries or even deaths. Let them throw punches or even a chair or two, and they would have some bruises and scrapes. But they might also decide that they really had not been all that insulted, after all. A relaxed attitude was not the same thing as letting down my guard; I kept an eye on things and so was ready when the first dagger came out. Brawling was one thing- murder was another. But before I could get to the Imperial who had pulled a weapon, someone else was already there. A slender Dunmer stepped out of the crowd, twisted the dagger away, and used the pommel to strike the Imperial just behind the ear. The murderous brawler slumped to the floor, and the dark elf faded back into the spectators. If I had not been watching, I would have missed it. And I was certain no one else had seen anything.

I definitely wanted to speak to someone who could move like that- and who did only what was needful. Moves could be taught, but restraint was a different matter. Still, I decided it would be wise to wait until the dust had settled. Approaching that particular elf in the midst of a free-for-all would be about as smart as poking a sleeping Kagouti in the snout- with a short stick. With the Imperial out of things, the other fighters seemed to lose enthusiasm rather quickly. One after another, they stopped throwing punches and took on the sheepish look of people who realize they are making fools of themselves, and can’t quite remember why. The bartender took the sudden lull to offer a free round, followed by last call.

As the crowd headed toward the bar, the dark elf reached down to hoist the Imperial over his shoulder and turn toward the exit. I got there ahead of him, opening the door and letting him precede me outside. He took me in with a quick glance and a muttered, “Thanks.”

“So what are you going to do with him?” I asked, indicating his burden.

“Toss him in one of the ore bins to sleep it off. Most I can do. He needs to be put on the next ship out of here, but I don’t have the authority. Truth is, I don’t have any authority at all, beyond the fact that I’ve been watching Nasios here for a while.”

I nodded my understanding and said, “Would you like to change that? The part about ‘authority,’ I mean? And- if you want to ship that fellow out of here, I’ll back you. My name’s Athlain, by the way.”

He shifted Nasios like a sack of meal and stuck out his hand for a quick shake, “Garnas Uvalen. And what do you mean?”

By that time, we had reached an ore silo, and I slipped the latch so that Garnas could drop the now-snoring Imperial inside. When I closed the door, the Dunmer faced me squarely, his red eyes giving away nothing of his thoughts. He folded his arms and told me,

“I’ve seen you around, of course. You’re Legion- and you ‘do things’ for Falco. If you can help me get rid of that pile of guar-droppings Nasios, I’ll listen to what you have to say.”

I met his direct gaze with my own. “Good. I saw what Nasios did in the bar, and I’ll tell Falco about it. Besides that, the colony needs guards, the sort who don’t lose their heads in a fight.”

Then I pointed at the hilt of Nasios’ dagger sticking out of the elf’s boot-top. “And especially guards who know one end of a blade from the other- and which one to use. You could have stuck that in his kidney, and no one would have known.”

Garnas smiled briefly and responded, “Not to start things off on the wrong foot, boss, but- you would have known.”

The smile disappeared and he added, “And when I stick Nasios, I want him to SEE it coming. I want to look into his eyes. Is that going to be a problem?”

Ah, Nord women. Ladies after my own heart. Or sometimes, just after me for a few days while I'm in town, and not embarrassed at all about it.

It's a great introduction and recruitment of our three guards for the colony. A lot better than "Hey, do you want to be a guard instead of a miner?" "Eh, sure." "Great, get to Falco and then pick up your gear." "Okay!"

But this takes the cake:

Ahh, sizing up potential guard material. Julian says Athlain really knows his stuff. Her initial impression about him still rings true, in her opinion. And she will back him up as he backs up Garnas Uvalen in getting rid of a certain Imperial.

I had to laugh at Afer's description of how he came to Solstheim from the kinder climes of the Lower Niben! Especially the relatives with broad shoulders, large fists and single eyebrows!

Ooh look, the moon got bloody again! (have I ever mentioned that the title of your story makes me think of menstrual blood?).

Afer's story certainly meets the funness quotient that we have all come to expect from BotM. Athlain has certainly conjured up an interesting bunch of guards for the colony. Each unique in their personality, and each the right man for the job. I cannot wait to see them all in action!

Welcome back!

It is hard to pin down exactly the how and why, but I have always been enthralled by your style. And here is no exception. From the humorous words between cousins to the herd of Nordic relatives to the Dunmer with his amazing skill and restraint . . . and I could go on.

And thank you for the reference to our dear Athynae.

What a pleasure to read!

I agree with Acadian on the immersive and moreish nature of your writing - I think it's the combination of dry humour with more serious themes and events. It cerainly works very well. Afer's back story was brilliant, you built a lot of character on that alone, though his worry at hearing about Nord women... well...

The bar fight was the perfect way to introduce the final guard. It stopped it becoming samey and gave a bit of a thrill for the end of the chapter. I also wonder if Garnas might have a bigger part than the others...


Brilliant line, very Athlain/ BotM.

I look forward to the next piece. :pleading puppy eyes:

What a treat to come back to !!! Athlain gives the impression of being laid back, but his mind is quick and always moving - this chapter is a great example of that !!

Here is my fave line:



Perfect little touch of Athlain meeting someone whose mind is as quick as his own, and his humor just as subtle! Loved this line !!!

Your ability to develop very different personalities in the cover of one chapter is amazing!! Welcome back, Treydog - it was such a wonderful surprise to find an update to BOTM when my electricity came back on !!!!

I read The Story of Trey first, so it has taken me some time to catch up with Athlain in Raven Rock. This story has been a joy and an inspiration to read, and I am now among those who keep a hopeful eye out for your next update. I have not played Morrowind or Bloodmoon yet, but I don’t feel left out of anything. The insight into Nord culture has been a particular delight. Athlain the Brave had me in stitches, and it still makes me laugh when I remember it out of the blue. Now I see why Athynae has poems written for her! She is captivating and mysterious, especially when seen through the veil of Athlain’s emotions. Athlain’s wry humor makes his struggles even more poignant.

I loved the whole introduction of Garnas, from Athlain’s first observations that set the scene all the way to Garnas’ chilling last remark. Garnas is one of those characters that you have made alive and memorable in just a few sentences. I love this story!!

Ok fans I need some assistance from each of you that has been captivated by this story. Trey is dragging his pen and thus I and Athlain are hanging in limbo waiting for him to show us what happens next. Since he gave me this existence and I am now not only animated but also have become a person in this story I find it quite difficult to sit idly by while he twiddles his thumbs AND MAKES ALL OF US WAIT!!!!! I am sure that the suspense on your part is quite profound, imagine it from my perspective, I am sitting silently somewhere with a mouth and brain full of words waiting to be shared. If he doesn't get a move on I may have to show him just what kind of swordswoman I truly am ( of course I would hit him with the broad side and only on the left side, so when he does decide to share more of our story he will be able to do so)

Your part is assisting me with pelting him with entries or spam or whatever it takes to stimulate reactivation. His writing is something that must be shared, and he knows that!!!! Silly knight that he is. Can I count on your help?

It is a wonderful story, and the truth is even more incredible!!!! but that's a whole other story in itself and may remain a secret for eternity.

Athynae

*


Okay, you asked for it !!!



I feel a pain
from missing Athlain
And though I'm not gay
I miss Athynae
Unless you want to see more of these prose
You'll add a chapter before everyone throws
up.

* Anon E. Mouse

******************** And now for some real torture:


The hunting dog scented along the ground as he ran. The trail was a long one. It started with the afternoon sun beginning to settle across the horizon. Now the early morning fog mingled with the steam that rose in a mist off his heaving flanks. A tiny grey squirrel clung to his dampened neck, her nails clutching tightly into his undercoat; her eyes masked by a blackened band of ragged cloth.

Sighting his prey, the hunting dog arched his head to the air, still on the full run. A low sound rumbled deep in his stomach and rose up through his gaping mouth. The baying heralded his arrival like a trumpet may herald the arrival of a king.

As he neared the object of his search he slowed. He was not the first to arrive. On the doorstep was a large wolf, his thick fur the color of a virgin snow. Beside him stood a slender fox, whose shiny black coat could easily cause him to be mistaken for a mink. (not minx) His eyes were cunning though. He had been the first to arrive.

The black fox eyed the newcomer for an extended moment before slowly dipping his eyelids for a sliver of a second; allowing the newcomer to approach.

The three set up a baying at the doorway of their prey. The ghostly howl of the winter wolf floated in the air as if part of the wind itself. The dogs deep bays nearly drowned out the soft yips of the black fox; almost, but not quite. The high-pitched chatter of the squirrel bombarded the little dachshound's ears like the keening of a banshee; even through the thick walls of the structure surrounding him.

Inside the safety of the barricade created by the walls and stout doors of his home, the long haired dachshund climbed over the back of the couch and peered down to the trio on his doorstep, then his eyes fell on the offending squirrel clinging to the back of the large hunting dog; all now illuminated by the early morning light.

With a sigh, he turned his head away from the sight, staring across the room as if seeing beyond the interior walls. A soft rustle caused him to look up in time to catch the motion of his wife gliding into the doorway, her long red hair gleaming in the morning light that was just beginning to filter in through the windows.

"Not again?" Her eyes showed sympathy for the little dachshund, but her mouth formed the words, "You know what you have to do."

Drooping eyes scanned across the room and fell on the metal box of the computer, the keyboard had a light film gathering from lack of use. With another sigh, the little dog climbed into the chair, pushing his paws down on the button that would set the computer whirring. His paws hovered over the keyboard, and then suddenly an inspiration hit.

"Yes! Yes!" He barked excitedly. His paws flew over the keyboard in a flurry of activity.

Hearing the tapping sounds emerging from withing the structure, the black fox, the winter wolf, and the hunting dog turned and silently slid into the mountains around them like ghosts evaporating into the forests of pine; each returning to their respective dens to await the food that would sustain them.

"Aaahhhh" They all sighed contentedly when the words came across the screen, "Blood on the Moon - Part 2, Last post by: treydog.

******* Hunting Dog

******* Hunting Dog Sad Faced Due To No Updates On This Thread:

****** Hunting Dog Climbing 15 Foot Up Tree To Peep In At Long Haired Dachshund

******* Sad Gray Squirrel (mALX)

******* Black Fox (Foxy)

******* Winter Wolf


*

Son of Trey was how they saw Athlain
Until he made his way into the world
Now ‘Athlain the Brave’ has earned his fame
So why do we all want to see the girl?

Red hair and violet eyes have Athynae
Her spirit bold, her mind sharp as her blade
Her absence brings Athlain (and us!) dismay
A swift return might silence this tirade

They say the tide of love flows strongest when
Each is distant from the other… one
So won’t you please once more take up your pen
Athlain could drown before your tasks are done!

And so we beg for more, dear dog of trey
We miss our bold Athlain and Athynae!!!

Let me put it this way, Trey.

If you still birth this story I will be pissed, and one thing you can be sure of is that you do NOT want me to get pissed with you.


W.R.I.T.E!!!!

My thanks to each of you for your assistance, surely now, knowing how strongly we all desire to know how our dear hero and heroine are fairing in their quest to each other Trey will quench our thirst for more.

Dear Athynae is sitting silent
Held on an empty page
Waiting for a word to fall
To know what happens next
Is Athlain in trouble
Or is he finding his way home
She's hoping, in silence for someone
to lift this writing hex

Follow your heart
Trey the pen master
Find your way back
To our story
And write what remains
Of Athynae and Athlain
Until we reach the end
And a complete word inventory



FINE!!!!!! You know this isn't over!!! I will harass you through eternity if that's what it takes to get this story finished!!!!!

With deepest affection,
Athynae

Trey, when I grow up someday, I want to write like you. I know you produce at a glacial pace (your words, not mine) and I am well aware of the volume and longevity of your work. Those things keep me from being overly concerned, for I know you will find your mojo and come back to us.

Somewhere beneath a starry sky, dances the mesmerizing flame of a campfire. An old dachshund patiently waits. A fiery red head, who is much less patient, gives 'fine' lessons to a blond wood nymph about loving an imperfect but heroic man. A black mare snorts and scrapes the ground with a hoof. The winter wolf is curled up with the dark fox. A faithful hunting dog lifts its muzzle and looses a forlorn bay at the twin moons above. All await the master's return.

Excitement... lots of new posts.

Dismay... no more Athynae.

Trey, I'm hoping whatever block your having, be it literary or RL, dissipates soon. It's summer now, the ideal time to sit with a laptop, a drink and a cat in the garden and write under the shade of the old tree.

And to add to the running metaphor:

Far across a pond swollen to vast proportions by drift even slower than glacial the dragon emerges from his lair looking to see what new treasure awaits. Finding none new, here at least, he returns to the dark underground and to his quantised oscilations in a box.

It is bad enough when your characters take over your keyboard. But then, they begin talking back, get keyboards of their own....

And before you know it, they are riding on guars with boys.

(Ducks rotten vegetables, inkwells, brickbats, and other thrown compound word type objects.)

Okay! Okay! I am writing! I promise I am. Should be something new by this weekend.

My dear, wonderful friends, thank you for your kindness, your patience, and your interest in my story.

As for you, Athynae- how would you like it if a badly-aimed Telvanni spell caused that new red hair to fall out? Just saying....

GAAAAH !!! Her hair has always been red !!! (at least for the last almost two years !!! )


Please don't let our beloved Trey
Scare you away, oh Athynae

*

There isn't a chance in Vvardenfell of his idle threats causing me pause, I am here for the long haul, to see this through to the end.

As for you Trey, I would take care hurling spells and such, it could just reverse itself and you'd be the one to end up bald! All that long blonde hair left for the birds to make comfortable nests.....Need I remind you just who I am?

Athynae

Trey, you must safeguard those golden locks of yours! I think you'll be ok with Athynae as long as she doesn't worm her way into your avatar or anything crazy like that. Be careful if that happens.

GAAAAH !!!

Shred his cuirass, burn his socks;
But please don't singe his golden locks!

@Captain Hammer- Even though they are supposedly of Scots-Irish descent, I have found that Southern women have certain… Nordish tendencies, also. And yes, I wanted to give them more personality than the game dialogue allows. And Garnas was one of those characters who just asserted himself.

@haute- Good to know that Julian has Athlain’s back… Oh- and the “relatives” actually only have one eyebrow between them- they are conjoined quintuplets- attached at the eyebrow.

@SubRosa- My thanks for your endorsement of my attempt to add humor and personality to what is a rather bland “quest” in-game.

@Acadian- I have learned so much from your ability to populate Buffy’s world with living, breathing people- and I hope I have applied it with some of the same success. And this one has more Athynae references- perhaps a good thing, as the young lady herself has chosen to grace us with her presence (gulp!) The scene you paint shows why you have no need to “write like me.” Your style and grace and humanity (hu- MER- ity?) are an inspiration to all who have been fortunate enough to read your words.

@Olen- Thank you my friend. The only benefit I can possibly construe from having been away from the keyboard for so long is that I was determined to make Athlain’s return worthwhile for my faithful readers. And I so love the use others have made of world-specific figures of speech- so I decided to give it a try. And I am so pleased that it worked. Yes- spring and warm weather are a great tonic to cure writer’s block. Threats from a certain redhead may also have something to do with it….

@mALX- And another wonderful compliment from another writer whose characters not only leap off the page, but raid our refrigerators, sit in our chairs- and hog the remote! Thank you so much!

@Grits- Welcome to my stories! I have been following Jerric, and am glad that you find my attempts at humor pleasing. And Athynae is certainly special in many ways- especially since her appearance was originally intended to be quite brief…. My hope has been to show Athlain growing and learning- your kind words indicate that I am making good on that hope. Your poem was a wonderful tribute and I cannot express how much it means to me.

@Athynae- Oh my. I have already spoken below about what happens when your characters not only come to life, but start whacking you in the back of the head and insisting that you “GET ON WITH IT!” I promise that you will not be languishing at Indarys Manor much longer…

@D. Foxy- Have no fear. This story will not die- and a redhead has already been fulminating about a sequel… Thank you as always for your humor, your loyalty, and your words.

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

There was a story there with Garnas, but his expression did not invite questions. Nor was it within the scope of my assignment to discover the dark secrets that had brought each individual to this remote and deadly island. If the Dunmer felt the need to explain himself, he would do so. Until then, he was a guard- one with the skills Falco needed. And it was well that the three I had found were experienced, for they were the only ones willing to become guards. Some of the refusals were understandable- men or elves who had families and saw no reason to take on additional risk. Others had never learned the arts of war and had no interest in starting now. But there were a few who caused me to wonder. I had spent the last year and more surrounded by those to whom the use of weapons was as natural as breathing, and I knew how they moved. Some of the “colonists” had the same characteristics, but acted as if the idea of using arms and armor was as alien as flying to Masser or Secunda.

In the spirit of fairness- and because I had observed her ability when she used the late Elberoth’s saber- I also approached Mistress Apronia Alfena. She stared at me wide-eyed and then burst out:

“A guard? What a foolish question! Why would I want to be a guard? Go around in all that smelly armor? It would ruin my clothes! And besides- no one would be able to tell it was me in all that metal. And my hair! Just imagine what a helmet would do to my hair! Not that the cold and damp in this place have been all that good for it. But still…. And what about my hats? How ridiculous would that be, trying to wear a hat with a helmet? It’s all very well for you men- with your short hair and those brown tunics and trousers. But a girl has to make the most of ALL her assets-” she placed her hands on her hips, “not hide them under a pile of rusty iron and creaky leather.”

If she had given me an opportunity, I might have mentioned at least ONE girl I knew whose… assets were quite nicely complimented by her armor. Instead, I simply stuttered an apology and left her as soon as I could.

As the day drew to its close, I reported to the colony manager, hoping that the three I had found would be enough. Rather than express concern over the number, Falco asked me who I had hired. When I gave him the list of names, he almost smiled.

“Excellent! That is actually better than I had hoped. I will see to ordering equipment for them, which will take a few days. I am glad you got Garnas involved. He keeps to himself, has a reputation as a hard worker, even though he hasn’t been here long. It was too bad about his brother, though.”

When he did not seem prepared to explain further, I prompted him:

“His brother?”

Falco nodded and then continued, “Yes. Bralyn- a younger brother, I believe. Mining is dangerous work and he was killed in a rock fall. Bad business, but there was nothing for it.”

Casually, I asked, “Who reported the accident? Was it a man named Nasios, by chance?”

Falco considered for a moment or two and then agreed, “That sounds right. I could look up the report if you think it is significant…?”

I certainly believed the information was significant, but I also doubted that the official version of events would have much value. Therefore I made a vague gesture and took my leave. Garnas’ words came back to me- “When I stick Nasios, I want him to SEE it coming.” I had spent my entire life in House Redoran; I knew what it meant to have a debt of honor or blood. If my suspicions about Bralyn’s death were correct, I would help Garnas in any way I could.

And what of my own debts? Almost, I decided to take advantage of the few days that lay ahead of me to travel to Vvardenfell. After all, until I resolved my situation with the East Empire Company, I could get no further with the Skaal. And until Tharsten Heart-Fang decided he was willing to trust me, I could not find Captain Carius. So- perhaps I could go home for a day or two…. Even as I considered it, even as my heart sang with the possibility, something told me that the time was not yet. For a while longer, I was still tied to Solstheim, and I had not been released from that obligation.

At first light the next day, I went back to Falco to tell him about Nasios being locked up in the storage building and what I had seen in the bar. Hoping I had enough influence to ask for a favor, I suggested that the Imperial be deported. The manager nodded and replied:

“Yes. I agree. He has caused trouble before and we have enough problems already. Go ahead and see to it that he gets on board the ore ship.”

I gathered my three guards, wanting to give them an opportunity to take on their new responsibilities, but when we reached the storehouse, the door was hanging open. There was a confused welter of tracks leading out of the settlement, but no other sign of the prisoner. Afer shook his head and told me:

“The slimy creep was always saying that he had ‘friends,’ but I thought it was just talk. Guess not.”

With Nasios gone, I was left with time on my hands and not much to do with it. At first, I wondered how I could fill the days. Sightseeing was not a routine activity on Solstheim- unless one wished to see the inside of a bear or a wolf. Raven Rock disturbed me in a way that I could not quite describe- it simply seemed “wrong.” The fort was my duty station, but I felt guilty when I showed up there with no news of the captain. More to the point, it would be difficult for me to be in such close proximity to Carnius Magius for so long. The inhabitants of Thirsk would welcome me, but it was some distance away- and it held too many memories of Athynae. What was it about the perverse nature of time that allowed it to run so quickly away from us when we were content, and yet caused it to crawl when we waited for something to happen?

But then I realized that my primary responsibility was the welfare of the new guards. For now, that meant spending time with them, learning more about who they were. And I also wanted to get them used to operating as a team. They were going to have to depend on one another and needed to begin forging the bond that would allow them to do so. Mostly, we talked, shared meals, and played dice together. And that allowed me time to study the two men and one elf who had accepted to my offer to become guards.

Afer Flaccus was much as he had appeared- personable, clever, and loyal- as long as you did not happen to be a female he was courting- in which case he was just personable and clever. Gratian was a bit of a surprise; beneath his gruff taciturnity was a wit so dry and razor-sharp that it was usually several minutes after he had employed it before anyone knew they were bleeding. But Garnas was the greatest treasure of all. I had been concerned that he would be aloof and unfriendly, especially to a pair of Imperials. Instead, he quickly became the leader of the trio. And he did it with his quiet certainty and unfailing courtesy. When he spoke, it was clear that he had given thought to what he said. By the same token, he listened carefully to the opinions of the others. I was pleased with the outcome, knowing that I would not always be on hand.

Still, after three days of doing nothing much besides walking the perimeter and talking, we were beginning to grow a little bored. Even Afer’s stories of “life along the Niben” had begun to pall. But on the afternoon of the third day, news arrived with Basks’ courier boat- news and the equipment for the guards. While they were getting outfitted, Falco signaled to me and we found a quiet spot to talk. He was clutching a scrap of parchment in one hand and his normally ruddy complexion was pale. His eyes darted around the colony and he raised a shaking hand to mop the perspiration from his brow. Finally, he thrust the parchment into a pocket and said,

“Things have gotten serious, Athlain. This message is a warning that an attempt is going to be made on my life. Gather the guards, but… stick close by if you would- you are the only person around here I can really trust.”

I forget, has Athlain unloaded that pesky piece of stock yet? Seems like it would have been a grand opportunity, a quick way to slice one into Carnius and then high-tail it from the fort. Ah well, can't have everything in life.



Clearly, quite apart from Athlain's ready counter-example, our dear Apronia has never seen the more flattering forms that a man's armor can take. I also wonder if she's part of the 0.1% of people that might think such things are valuable and useful. Shame she isn't a little more practical minded. She'd probably think bat-nipples were a good idea as well...

Shame about Nasios. Do we get to find his body ripped up by a snow bear, or a plague wolf? Or possibly stripped by some reavers? Other possibilities abound, but I wonder how long he'll endure unscathed on Solstheim. Though, seeing as how summer's approaching here on Earth, I imagine it might be lovely this time of year...

ROFL !!! They come by that honestly, ask any of my friends what I do when I pop over to their houses. (walks in door, after a brief greeting says, "what you got to eat in here?" Without waiting for answer walks into their kitchen and opens fridge. Scans quickly through, then checks the cupboards. Pours self coffee from their pot, then heads back to their living room talking constantly. Grabs remote and sits in their most comfortable chair. Props feet up on their coffee table or over the arm of the overstuffed chair...) - yeah, and that wasn't necessarily as an invited guest either, ROFL !!!




We are all redheads under the surface, lol.




ROFL !!! I'll bet, lol.

GAAAH !!! A cliffhanger !!! ARGH !!!


Awesome Write !!!! - Even more Awesome, YOU CAME BACK TO US !!!!! WOO HOO !!!! Thanks, Athynae !!!

Another part, and a good one. A few things in this part stuck out as particularly good. First several people refused his offer of guard work, as they would. It adds reality to the background humanity which populate, but don't play a huge part in, the story. Apronia, as ever, added some good humour to the part. Makes me wonder why she stays in Solstheim. Perhaps its for the cut price furs?

I also like that you're taking time to really develop the guards. Athlain could just as well have continued on never seeing them again but he's taking the time to get to know (and let us know) and train them. I suspect three characters like that are going to appear again whether you want them to or not... I certainly hope so, they're a good set.


Again I love the humour of this piece. It's so seamlessly put in without making light of the rest of it.

I look forward to more, I hope you have suffient long spring mornings and coffee/pimms (depending on time/preferance) to write more.

I can see Apronia’s point. Helmet-hair would be far worse than frizzy, and armor would irreparably crush the nap of her velvet.

Hurry up and wait seems to be the nature of guard work. Either they’re bored, or someone is trying to kill them. All three guards have distinct personalities already. It’s easy to imagine the days they spent hanging out together.

What a relief to see a mention of Athynae. I was afraid she would goad me into torturing everyone with a Haiku.

Athlain sure is having a lot of fun with his "looking for guards" routine. Too bad that fetcher Nasios disappeared, but I'm not too worried. He'll get sorted soon enough.

Oh dear, looks like Carnius is ready to take things into his own hands once again. I can't really see who else would want Falco dead.

Eagerly awaiting what happens next.

Some of the “colonists” had the same characteristics, but acted as if the idea of using arms and armor was as alien as flying to Masser or Secunda.
If I were the suspicious sort, I might think that they are a fifth column planted by someone who wants the colony to fail...

And how appropriate for Athlain to attempt to recruit Apronia, and how equally like her to refuse!

Raven Rock disturbed me in a way that I could not quite describe- it simply seemed “wrong.”
Perhaps it is the AI pretending to be President of America? or all the Enclave Nazis in powered armor?

Afer Flaccus was much as he had appeared- personable, clever, and loyal- as long as you did not happen to be a female he was courting- in which case he was just personable and clever.
I loved how you described this. I had to actually go back a moment to see that you left out "loyal"!

Given the news from Basks at the end, this appears to have been the momentary calm before the storm! I suspect we will be seeing more of those "colonists" who know nothing of using weapons, not to mention Nasios, very soon!

Yup, Athynae looks yummy in her armor!

'What was it about the perverse nature of time that allowed it to run so quickly away from us when we were content, and yet caused it to crawl when we waited for something to happen?'
Quoted for its elegantly poignant truth.

'Afer Flaccus was much as he had appeared- personable, clever, and loyal- as long as you did not happen to be a female he was courting- in which case he was just personable and clever. Gratian was a bit of a surprise; beneath his gruff taciturnity was a wit so dry and razor-sharp that it was usually several minutes after he had employed it before anyone knew they were bleeding. But Garnas was the greatest treasure of all. I had been concerned that he would be aloof and unfriendly, especially to a pair of Imperials. Instead, he quickly became the leader of the trio. And he did it with his quiet certainty and unfailing courtesy. When he spoke, it was clear that he had given thought to what he said. By the same token, he listened carefully to the opinions of the others. I was pleased with the outcome, knowing that I would not always be on hand.'
And what a delightfully complete and concise insight into the three new guards. Athlain has chosen well!

Welcome back, Trey!

Well, it's about time, good timing on your part as I was in the process of getting the words "just right" for the Balding Spell....And then of course you have to throw in a butter me up line in reference to how I look in my own armor. But I will simply be gracious and say "thank you".

And thank you for banishing the curse on that wonderful pen, as I knew you were fully capable of doing, you simply needed a little incentive. And of course, encouragement from friends, wonderful, talented friends. Thank you all for lending me aide, had I been on the attack alone my success might have been a bit more delayed...but doubt not that I would have succeeded as there was no other acceptable outcome. This story must be told to completion. The idea of another to follow, well, we'll have to wait and see how that one plays out.

Trey, you have saved yourself...and your hair for now, just don't keep us waiting for more as the spell is on the verge of perfection and can be cast at any moment.

Love to all,
Athynae

@Captain Hammer- No- he still has it. But I think I hear opportunity knocking. Apronia has been another one of those happy accidents- a character who suddenly insisted on a much larger role than the original “escort mission.” Nasios is gone- but not forgotten.

@mALX- Thank you so much- for your loyalty to my story and for putting up with my long absences- and cliff-racer--- ah, hanger endings.

@Olen- You are a reliable gauge for me as to whether I have “gotten it right” in terms of tone and detail. You have no idea how helpful that is to me- and how much I appreciate it. The mystery of Apronia may get some resolution by the end of the chapter… One of the most valuable lessons I have learned from other writers- and tried to apply to this story- is to give more life to more of the characters. And I think inspiration (or fear of being whacked in the head) has finally opened the logjam.

@Grits- Have I said how happy I am to know you are reading my story? Consider it said. Hmmm- Athynae Haiku….? Eyes begin to glaze over…

Soft falls the white snow
Her footstep blesses the path
Tracks fill, my heart glows

@Thomas Kaira- Your patience in re Nasios will be rewarded. And yes- the guard search was more fun to write than to do… “You want to be a guard?” “No.” “OK then.”

@SubRosa- Yep. It seemed to me that with the stakes involved, the “opposition” would want some help on hand. Apronia is just so much fun to write- as a result, she will have more to say before it is over. Yes- Athlain keeps having these visions of vertibirds and mushroom clouds- and he hasn’t had any skooma in months! Thank you for catching one of my own favorite lines about Afer.

@Acadian- Well, we all know how I- um, I mean how Athlain feels about Athynae. Thank you for again picking out a couple of the passages I liked best. One of valuable lessons I have gained from reading you and SubRosa and Haute and mALX and Destri and… is that spending a few words to make “supporting” characters live and breathe is well worth the time.

@Athynae- My Muse, my inspiration, my dear sorceress who threatens my hair.... Thank you for your help in getting me and my story back on track. It has languished far too long, and it is a testament to the kindness of my audience that they are willing to put up with these long absences and read my humble offerings.

ALL- Oh dear. One result of being away for too long (and being threatened with forcible depilation- ahem!) is that I forgot my manners. A special thanks to haute ecole rider for her gracious permission to have Julian appear in my story. Such a strong character will never have a "small role" in anything!
-----------------------------------------------------

Pilus Prior Julian interrupted to ask, “So, you decided not to drill or work on tactics with the guards? Was there some reason for that?”

Her green eyes held neither condemnation nor judgment. She might just as well have been asking me why I had decided on fish instead of fowl for dinner. Since the question did not enter into an area about which I was concerned, it should have been easy to answer. But- here was a professional soldier asking me about a decision I had made in what amounted to my first command. For a moment, I struggled to find the right answer. But then I realized that the simple truth was the only answer I could give.

“They were not Legion, Pilus Prior. They were volunteers- and they volunteered as much because it was me who asked them as because of the extra pay. Besides that, all four of us were used to working alone, rather than as part of a larger unit. I was training guards, who were going to be operating individually or in pairs. It seemed that learning to trust each other was more important than marching in step or reciting the ‘nomenclature of the spear, Imperial Legion issue; enemies, for the impaling of; one each.’”

Just for a moment, Julian’s impassive eyes seemed to glint, but it might have been a trick of the light, for her expression never changed as she said,

“I see. Please continue.”



Afer, Gratian, and Garnas answered my whistled command to “rally to me” with gratifying speed, even as they finished buckling into their armor and weapons. I looked them over and felt better immediately. They weren’t polished and they showed neither an interest in nor ability to stand in formation, but their eyes were bright and they handled their swords like they knew how to use them. I sketched the little that I knew and then told them:

“Our priority is to protect Falco, but keep an eye out for other trouble, as well. This might be a ruse to distract us from something else. But he believes his source is reliable, so we have to take the threat seriously. You three stay close while I move around. If it is an assassination, they’ll probably use bows for a start. So keep your shields ready and your eyes moving. Most of all, talk to each other! If you even think you see something- SAY SO! Don’t assume anyone else has noticed it. Questions?”

The three shook their heads with grim determination and I nodded once in return.

Just as I was about to suggest that we would all be safer indoors, Garnas shouted:

“ ‘Ware archers! North of the tavern!”

His words were punctuated by the thrum of bowstrings and the snap of arrows whipping past us. The Dunmer tapped Gratian on the arm, and they charged after the shooter he had spotted. I looked at the arrows that had embedded themselves in the building behind us and saw a spray of viscous green liquid. Poison, of course. We were dealing with assassins. With the first archer engaged, Afer and I raised our shields and formed up around Falco. A second archer appeared from behind the building housing the mine entrance, and a swordsman rushed up from the direction of the dock. Falco drew his short sword and blocked a vicious cut aimed at his neck. I told Afer to drive in on the bowman while I aided Falco. A few swings from Athynae’s Gift and one assassin was accounted for. I looked for Afer just in time to see an arrow glance off of his helmet. The near miss seemed to energize him; he swung a side-arm blow that cut through the hireling’s bow, armor, and ribs. Shouts from beyond the tavern led Falco and I to the other guards, who were standing over the body of what I hoped was the last killer.

Rather than wait to see, I said, “Everyone into the tavern! Now! Garnas, you go first and signal if it’s clear. At Garnas’ sign, I want it to be Serjo Falco, then Afer, then me. Got it? Then MOVE!”

The operation went off flawlessly, almost as if we had rehearsed it. I made a note to myself that one sure way to motivate guards- or soldiers- was to suggest that they go into a bar.

Once we were inside, I took a couple of vials from my field kit and directed, “Check each other for wounds, even something as small as a scratch. They were using poison. With all the excitement and the adrenaline flowing, you might not know you’re hurt until it’s too late. If you see anything, put this antidote on it.”

None of us had taken the slightest hurt, and Falco even managed to joke:

“Well, I don’t guess I’m going to be assassinated- today.”

We waited in silence for several minutes, then I went to the door and opened it just enough to peer out. When no arrows greeted my appearance, I waved to Garnas, who joined me. Quietly, I said,

“The two of us are going to scout the colony. The rest of you stay here until we come back. If we DON’T come back- stay here, anyway. Right now this is the safest place in the settlement. If any assassins try to burn it down, the miners will take care of them for us. They might not care who the manager is, but they’ll fight to preserve the only watering hole this side of the mainland.”

The bodies lay where we had left them and nothing moved except the wind in the trees. The colonists who had not been down in the mine had wisely gone into their homes as soon as the trouble started. A circuit of the entire colony did not turn up anything more than the three dead men, so we laid the bodies in a row outside the tavern. I noticed that they were all dressed in black armor, much like the woman who had tried to kill Graring. Another thing they had in common with Coventina Celata- besides being dead- was that they had freshly-struck 100 septim coins in their pockets. Beyond that, there was nothing to indicate who they were. Garnas waited while I went to fetch Falco.

The rest of us kept a watchful eye on the surrounding buildings and trees while the colony manager examined the corpses. When he was finished, he stood up, shaking his head.

“One of them is Cimber Valerius. He hired on as a miner a few weeks ago. I have never seen the others before.”

He then turned to the guards and shook their hands one by one, thanking them for saving his life. He also told them that they had earned a bonus of 500 septims each. I added my own praise for their quick thinking and the way they had responded to the threat. When I was finished, Falco grasped my forearm and said,

“I know these fellows didn’t do what they did for me- or for the money. They did it because you asked them to. Good work deserves compensation, and you will take the 1000 septims I am going to give you. Beyond that,” he stopped long enough to signal an assistant, who darted into the general store and came out carrying a large object wrapped in cloth. “Beyond that, I want you to have this. As far as I know, there is not another one like it.”

He took the object from his assistant and presented it to me. When I stripped away the cloth, I beheld a beautifully made medium shield. It was rectangular in shape, with silvered steel forming a frame around a center that seemed to have been made of ice. But, by some combination of magic and the smith’s art, the ice was stronger than steel. Even so, the whole shield was light and handy, seeming to weigh almost nothing when I strapped it on. It suddenly came to me that the shield was made of stahlrim and must be worth a fortune. I mumbled my thanks, embarrassed by the princely gift.

And then it seemed to me it was time to have a serious talk with Falco, so I asked the others to give me a few moments. They did not salute, but as they walked away, I could see pride in the way they carried themselves. When they were out of hearing, I turned to the colony manager and said,

“We both know who was behind this. Unless you can think of anyone besides Carnius who wants you dead?”

Falco looked down at the bodies and then raised his eyes to mine. His expression was grim as he replied:

“Yes- we ‘know’- but what can we prove? We have three dead men who attacked the colony and who have a quite a bit of coin. Maybe they were trying to kill you. Maybe kill one of the others. Maybe they were planning to rob the mine.”

He looked at me steadily before concluding, “Athlain, for now, do nothing. That is an order, if you like. And it is also a plea. Until we have proof- DO NOTHING!”

Well that was quick! Not only the next post, but also the attack hot on the heels of Athlain's warning of archer's beginning an attack!

one sure way to motivate guards- or soldiers- was to suggest that they go into a bar.
As ever Athlain keeps his sense of humor! I also loved his rationale for why it was the safest place in the colony!

It was rectangular in shape, with silvered steel forming a frame around a center that seemed to have been made of ice. But, by some combination of magic and the smith’s art, the ice was stronger than steel.
Is that Stalhrim? If so, would not Athlain recognize it after his previous meeting with the Nords who could forge it?

Carnius failed, this time. But we can bet he will be back again, and with more bad guys. One thing is for certain, things are headed to an explosive conclusion with the EEC!


nits:
Once we were inside, I took a couple of vials from my field kit and directed,

“Check each other for wounds, even something as small as a scratch. They were using poison. With all the excitement and the adrenaline flowing, you might not know you’re hurt until it’s too late. If you see anything, put this antidote on it.”
I am not sure what is going on here. I think this is supposed to be a single paragraph, and the forum put a manual line break in the middle?

Athlain and his crew handled the archer attack very well, working smoothly together.

'The bodies lay where we had left them and nothing moved except the wind in the trees.'
Just a beautifully 'treydog' passage that paints so much with so few words.

Wow! What a shield!

And the frustration, it seems, of knowing who's behind the attack but being but unable to prove it.

As usual, superb and subtle writing, with no superflous wordsmithing.

I have only one small nit to pick - a swing which can cut through bow, armour, and the ribs underneath needs either an axe, or a very, VERY heavy and sharp sword. And that sword will definitely need the attentions of a swordsmith afterwards, for it will almost certainly be nicked.

This was riveting, right up to the last conversation with Falco. Athlain chose well in the men he selected. These sentences proved that, and were indicative of the respect the men had for Athlain himself :




Awesome Write !!!

And here is yet another example of why I could not sit idly by while Athlain and I simply sat, waiting for the next words to fall. Not only are you true to form Trey but you continue to give me reasons to feel the way I do about my man. I am near shaking with anticipation to see what happens next and, of course, readying all I will need to join Athlain at the first sign that he is in need of my presence.

It did occur to me that I might need to find a spell that would prevent someone from casting any kind of "block" spell again. So that is what I will work on while I wait for your words to bring me back into the folds of the story.

Athynae

Oh Athynae! Can you ever forgive me? When you were a small child I started to write down the story of Me, Serene, so you could learn your backstory and maybe understand who you really are....

No sweet child, I haven't finished it by far, and so it's my fault everything is my fault...

Clearly Carnius should have hired out for this one. Though I wonder if that was presented as an adequate option. One illegal assassin society is probably still trying to make a comeback in mainland Morrowind after one certain legionary's father got through with them, and the legitimate guild wouldn't exactly jump at the chance to take this job.

I wonder, though, would the Morag Tong have accepted a contract in Solstheim with a rather high fee for their services, or simply refused outright? I lean towards the former, with Carnius being too cheap to try it, since Solstheim is technically part of Morrowind, but that's another issue.

You do a great job of not following the strict A.I. of the game by keeping one of the guards back with Falco and Athlain, and I appreciate that. It always pissed me off to no end watching my three guards charge after the distraction while I got stuck in a two-on-two battle. I hate having fair odds when I could be the favored to win. Still, beats being the underdog.

After all, the underdog is probably the dog underneath the tray! Ba-da-buum!!

Mother the time will come that finishing your story is not only imperative but also not an option. I have learned that when the writing spell is cast, you have no choice but to give in to it's power. I do not desire to have you struck by a spell, as any spell can go awry, however I feel that if you postpone much longer the overseers will be forced to extend a helping hand. Know this though, I will not hesitate to cast a spell, or threaten to cast a spell on Trey, he has suffered my hand for the better part of eternity, but I would never cast a spell on you.

Athynae

Well others seem to have gotten to all the good bits already.


But this line was so good I'm going to quote it again anyway. Bang on with the humour.

I enjoyed the little section with Julian at the begining. I'd considered the question myself and assumed a similar answer, certainly the Raven Rock guards are rather more irregular then most. However you went on to show that that was exactly what is needed in such a fronteir colony. They dealt well with the assassins which further shows them to be a decent force now.

Falco is a hidden gem in this story, although he has no huge traits or sudden developments he is a really strong character and very measured. His relationship with Athlain is an interesting one. His balanced approach (as shown so well at the end compared to Athlain's anger) could have made him almost a father figure, but instead he is more a friend. He seems to understand Athlain very well though, I sense he may have a future in this story after the Bloodmoon affair is done with...

Having played the game... well lets just say I can't wait for the coming parts...

@SubRosa- Threats from all over! Which apparently have a salutary effect on my writing… Could not help the thought that- “Quick men, into the bar!” was an order that would be obeyed. Yes- stahlrim- and he would know- so I added a bit. Conclusion to the chapter that seemed as if it would never end may be in sight!

Nit noted and fixed.

@Acadian- Thank you my friend- I keep learning- “less is more.” And I hope to post a screen-shot of Athlain with the Ice-Shield. Have no fear- proof will FINALLY arrive- just- not yet.

@D.Foxy- My thanks, as always. And your point about the “wrong way” to use a sword has been turned to narrative purposes- which I think you will find satisfying.

@mALX- As you so often do- you illustrate one of the most important passages (at least to me). Athlain has been a soldier for a while- but he is now learning to be a leader.

@Athynae- Oh dear. Praise- and more threats. How could I possibly fail to respond- to both? And most of all, thank you for reading- for writing- for being my Muse.

@minque- It is really you! Welcome back my dear friend! It appears that Athynae is about to inspire another writer to pick up a pen once more. And I will do all I can to encourage that event!

@Captain Hammer- Yes- it appears Carnius went for cheap rather than good. Most likely, a certain “King” stepped firmly on any appearance of the DB coming even close to attacking Trey’s son. And yes, the Morag Tong probably would have been willing- for a price. But Carnius is perhaps not only too cheap- but too “cosmopolitan” to hire “locally.”

Yes- one thing I REALLY hoped Oblivion would have fixed was the “CHARGE!” mentality of “helpers” in MW. “Tray” groan!

@Olen- Thank you so much, my friend. Yes, as Athlain answers Julian, he has to think instead of simply react. And you highlight yet another one of those “accidents” that seem to crop up so often in this tale- Falco. If the player chooses the “good” path, there should be a reason beyond simple preference. To me, Falco is the key to that decision as much as “morality.”

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

Just because we had foiled one attack did not make me complacent. The bodies were buried but not forgotten. There was a palpable atmosphere of tension in the colony. Miners reported strange lights that flickered and disappeared in the forest, and Garnas and I saw a number of tracks that indicated someone was scouting Raven Rock. But we never caught sight of anyone, even though we varied our routine and did not fall into a regular pattern of patrols. The only constant was that Falco was always accompanied by at least one guard.

On the third day following the attack, the colony manager came to me, his face mottled with rage.

“Carnius has gone too far this time! His other plots were just business- even if he did try to kill me. But this… I didn’t think even he would stoop so low.”

He glared at the world in general, since the object of his rage was not handy. I waited patiently for him to explain what had happened, but he just fumed silently until I finally decided I would have to ask.

“What exactly has he done? It must be something special for you to be this angry.”

Falco made a visible effort to shake off his dark mood and explained:

“When I asked you to hire guards and said that I would pay to equip them, I wanted to be sure they could face whatever threats Solstheim might pose. So I included a request for silver longswords for the guards. As you know, what we got was steel. And that’s fine- as long as all we have to deal with are normal dangers- bears, wolves, the occasional hired killer.”

He grinned at that last bit of understatement, but then became serious again.

“I just found out that the silver weapons were delivered to Fort Frostmoth, but Carnius refuses to send them to me. Says they ‘must be given directly to a representative of the Company.’ The worst of it is- he’s right- at least technically. I hate to ask you this, but- could you go to the fort and get them?”

I had known for some time that a confrontation with Carnius lay in my future, but I had hoped to have more time to prepare. But- this was about more than just me. Absently, I touched a finger to one of the silver spikes on Athynae’s Gift and thought how different things might have been if I had not had it when the werewolf attacked. Yes, my men needed those silver weapons- and I would do what was necessary to obtain them.

Correctly reading my expression, Falco added hastily, “You won’t have to deal directly with Carnius. Just see that toady of his, Constans Atrius. He has the authority to release the weapons, and you are a representative of the Company, at least as long as you still have that stock certificate Carnius gave you.”

A wave of relief washed over me, so much so that I decided to make light of it.

“Afer could certainly use a new sword, considering the way he notched his blade on that archer. He pretty well ruined the edge. I mentioned to him that the point of a sword was a better choice against an armored opponent.”

Despite himself, Falco grinned and asked, “What was his response?”

“He said, ‘Fetcher’s dead isn’t he? And you don’t hear him complaining about whether I used the point or the edge.’ “

Our shared laughter broke the tension we had both felt for many days, especially when I added the postscript:

“So I handed Afer one of those big, heavy smith’s hammers. He said, ‘I don’t know how to repair a sword!’ I told him, ‘No- I want you to use that instead of a sword, since hammering seems to be the only tactic you know.’ “

With the memory of laughter in my mind, I stepped out of the settlement and used an amulet to return to the Imperial Cult shrine at the fort. I could have waited on the ship, but feared what might happen if I did. As it turned out, my concern was justified.

Once the afterimage of the magicka had cleared, I made a donation at the altar, and then sat on a bench in the shrine for a few minutes. I still was not sure what I believed, but I needed whatever help I could get. Beyond that, it would not do to confront Constans- or his boss- without being in full possession of my faculties. With a deep breath, I rose and climbed the spiral stair to the next floor, where I found the Imperial thug loitering in the hallway. That phrase may seem like embellishment, but there was something furtive about Constans Atrius. Even when he was just standing still, he gave the impression of being up to something.

Apparently, he remembered our last meeting, because he put one hand on the back of his head and raised the other in a warding gesture.

“Now you just wait,” he squeaked. “I only have to deal with representatives of or stockholders in the East Empire Company. So you can just clear out before I call the guards!”

Falco had warned me about this bit of pettifogging, so I was ready. I reached inside my tunic- frankly enjoying Constans’ flinch as I did so. But what I drew out was a piece of parchment, rather than a weapon. It was stained and torn, but still quite recognizable. Nevertheless, I made quite a show of examining it as I exclaimed,

“What have we here? Why, it looks like an EEC stock certificate! Signed by,” I squinted at it, “ ‘Crapius Malignus?’ No wait- that’s not it. Oh- signed by ‘Carnius Magius’ himself.”

I looked at Constans with a toothy smile. “So I guess that makes me a stockholder.”

His squinty eyes widened and he grumbled something that I decided to ignore. My smile vanished and I spoke formally:

“As a representative of the East Empire Company, I am here to take delivery of three silver longswords that are designated as equipment for the Raven Rock colony.”

In a pleasant tone, I added:

“I will be happy to sign for them- using your blood, if necessary.”

He stumbled away from me, waving a hand at a crate next to the table.

“There. Just… take them and go. For all the good they’re likely to do you.”

Much as I would have enjoyed baiting Constans further, there was not time. I started to fold the stock certificate and put it away, but a memory came to me. It was something Athynae had said about Carnius-"He only cares about power- and gold. The way to hurt someone like that is to take his money. It’s how he keeps score.”

So with a meaningful glance at Constans, I opened the door to the office without knocking and marched inside. Carnius glared at me from behind his desk and said,

“I have nothing to say to you. Deal with my assistant- or leave. I don’t care which.”

Rather than reply, I placed the ragged stock certificate atop the papers on his desk and pointed at the line that said, Redeemable Upon Demand at Fair Market Value. Carnius’ head whipped up and I thought his eyes were going to pop out. He gobbled incoherently for a few seconds and then said,

“WHAT? You want to turn this in- NOW? But it’s… I… Why now?”

I stood quite still and said crisply, “Why not now? It clearly states that I can sell it back at any time.”

“I read the fine print,“ I added nastily. “Of course, if you don’t have the money, I can take it up with the directors. I’m sure they will be very interested to know how their investment is being spent.”

Carnius started to rise, then fell back into his chair. At last, holding his head in his hands he mumbled,

“The current valuation is 10,000 septims. I can give you a note of hand, or cash.”

The truth is, money never meant much to me. We had always had more than enough, so I had never really thought about it. But the sum stunned even me for just a moment. There was no chance that I would let Carnius see my surprise, however. So I simply said,

“Oh, cash will do nicely. I do love the sound of those coins chuckling together.”

He unlocked a desk drawer and lifted out a cloth bag. I checked the Imperial Bank seal closely and the hand-written notation “10,000 septims in 100 septim coins.” I hefted the bag and left the office, throwing the words over my shoulder:

“A pleasure doing business with you.”