Hi all,

To continue my story, I decided to break it up in more manageable chunks. The 200 post limit seems to be a reasonable number.

You can see Chapters 1-7 here:

Now begins Chapter 8.

Back on the road again, Julian catches up with a friend, and makes another, among the Legion riders. Riding along the Blue Road under the full moons is special. I hope I’ve managed to convey that feeling to all my readers.

This post is a little longer than my self-imposed limit, but it was hard to edit a much longer interlude down into something that was more manageable for the forums and still had the important stuff.

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Chapter 8.1 Bandits and Riders

Paint was eager to go. He chose to gallop around the Red Ring Road, only slowing down when we caught up to Marc Atellus between Sercen and Red Roxey Inn. Blowing and bouncing as he slowed down to match the Legion horse’s slow amble, Paint whickered at the other horse.

“Hello, Julian!” Atellus greeted me heartily. He slapped his left thigh. “Thanks to you, all healed now!”

“Good,” I mirrored his grin as I tried to catch my breath. “I’m glad to see you again, Atellus.”

“In these dark times, friends are more valuable than treasure,” the Legion rider commented as the two horses continued down the road at an easy pace. “Your horse looks well-rested this afternoon.”

“He should be, sir,” I responded, slapping the brown-and-white neck fondly. “He’s been loafing for the past two days, since I saw you last. He just galloped all the way from Weye.”

Atellus’s brows lifted beneath his helm. “All that way?” he whistled. “Paint must be feeling really good today!” He laughed as Paint tossed his head and bounced twice, as if in agreement. The Legion bay pinned his ears briefly at Paint, who subsided and became sedate again. “Shush, Bucky,” Atellus chided his mount quietly, with amusement in his voice. “Our horses may seem lazy,” he admitted to me, “but it’s because they go all day and all night, with little time for rest. They’re smart enough to conserve their energy.”

“I’ve noticed, sir,” I responded. “It’s a good thing when you have to ride long hours.”

“So, Julian, where are you and Paint headed on this fine afternoon?” Atellus asked.

“Cheydinhal, sir,” I answered. Ahead, in the shadows thrown by the westering sun, I saw a shabby little inn off to the north of the road, tucked beneath high mountains.

“That’s Roxey Inn,” Atellus pointed at it. “And we’re near the end of my patrol. You’ll run into Marius Tarquinius between here and Wellspring Cave, just past the Blue Road. Caelius Drusus patrols the Blue Road. He’s the youngest of us, and has never served in the provinces.”

“Is he the least experienced, sir?” I asked.

“Humph,” Atellus shook his head. “Actually, Drusus has done nothing but patrol,” he responded. “Started out as a forester, so he’s a pretty tough character.” He looked hard at me. “I mention him because he’s likely the least prejudiced of all of us riders.”

“Against Redguards, you mean, sir?” I asked, thinking of Adrian Remus, the rider I had encountered east of Skingrad. He had been cool, even suspicious, toward me, though he had maintained a professional demeanor. Atellus nodded, a little ruefully.

“And Dunmer,” he added. “That’s why he’s assigned to the Cheydinhal patrol route. That city’s half Dunmer as it is. He gets along very well with everyone there.” Atellus halted Bucky and threw me a half salute before turning the bay back westward. “Farewell, Julian!”

“Thanks for the company, sir,” I said. “Stay safe,” I called to his departing back. “And watch out for marauder archers!” His guffaw trailed behind him. Paint resumed his slow walk. Patting his neck again, I found it cool. “Out of energy, Paint?” I asked him. He tossed his head and bounced once, but resumed his walk immediately.

The night settled around as we turned onto the cobblestones of the Blue Road. The highway climbed steeply to the top of a ridge, and Paint marched resolutely up the slope. Near the top of the hill, I spotted the ruins of an old farmstead to the right of the road. When I saw movement within the ruins, I stopped Paint near an oak tree about twenty meters away. After I dismounted, I limped forward, the Kvatch Wolf in my left hand, my right hand near the hilt of my katana.

Two shadows detached themselves from the ruin, one carrying a hammer, the other a shortsword. They separated as they drew near. I recognized the tactic from my years in the service. They intended to attack me from opposite sides. I hobbled toward the swordsman, barely recognizable as a Redguard in the darkness, and ducked his blade, circling to get him between me and the hammer-wielding Khajiit. My katana picked up the starlight along its slender blade. My buckler blocked the sword strike from the Redguard, and I shoved him back into the Khajiit, sending both of them staggering.

Before the swordsman could recover, I brought the edge of my shield down on his sword arm, feeling the bones snap beneath the metal disc. With a groan, he hunched over his broken arm. In spite of his greater weight, I managed to knock him aside in time to backhand my katana against the man-feline. The tip of my blade sliced through the other’s upraised right arm.

The Khajiit spat as my blade caught on the edge of his leather cuirass. He pulled back, freeing my katana, and raised his hammer again with more difficulty. My sword slipped beneath his chin, twisting through his throat and tearing it out sideways.

As he fell back, a shout reminded me of the Redguard with the broken arm. As I hopped to my right and spun around to face him, I saw that a Legion rider had already engaged the bandit. Awkward with the sword in his left hand, the Redguard was no match for a fresh fighter, and a heavily armored one at that.

Kneeling stiffly to wipe my bloodied blade on the Khajiit’s sackcloth pants, I sheathed it as the rider strode up to me, his own weapon put away. “Caelius Drusus?” I asked, aware of his assessing gaze and the way his eyes lingered on the Kvatch Wolf in my left hand.

“Yes,” he answered, “and you must be Julian.”

“I see you’ve heard about me already,” I muttered. “Thanks for your help, sir.”

“Yes, I have heard about you,” Drusus remarked, amused. “Are you unhurt, I hope?”

“I’m fine, sir,” I answered. “Tired of battling bandits and marauders, though.”

“Well, if you’re going to Cheydinhal,” Drusus remarked, lighting the torch, “you’ll probably run into another bandit ambush about half a kilometer west of the city gates.” The torchlight illuminated the youth in the other’s face, as well as the experience in his level gaze. He shrugged. “They are never around when I ride by, but travelers have come to grief there. They’ve been particularly -” he paused, “bothersome lately.”

“Well, I’ll see when I get there, sir,” I commented. I turned back to look for Paint. “I left my horse back a ways.”

“I did, too,” Drusus admitted. “Tell you what, I’m weary of hearing about those invisible bandits. They’ll likely ambush you - with that white hair of yours they’ll think you’re easy game. I’ve got to ride on down to Fort Urasek,” he indicated the ruined fort on the lakeshore, past the end of the Blue Road, “then come back toward Cheydinhal. If you wait for me, maybe we can take care of those bandits once and for all.”

“All right,” I said. “I’ll travel slow until you catch up to me.”

“Travel real slow,” his tone was dry. I couldn’t help smiling at his irony.

Masser and Secunda were just rising over the eastern horizon when Paint and I passed the ruined farmstead. He was all too happy to remain at a slow amble for now. The road floated along the shoulder of the foothills to the north, the lofty Jeralls just visible beyond. To the south, on my right, the land dropped away into an expansive plain, dotted with groves, small lakes, and a single Ayleid ruin.

I spotted an overgrown gateway and a faint dirt path heading north into the foothills just past the farmstead. Briefly I wondered what lay at the end of that path.

Deer spooked at us and ran off, quick shadows highlighted by the white undersides of their tails. A grey ghost paced us from the side of the road, but veered off when Paint turned his head and looked directly at him without faltering in his stride. That wolf’s not hungry tonight. Bet those bandits up ahead are. I followed the wraithlike form with my gaze as the canine ran up a bank to the shore of a highland lake, just north of the road, its waterfall argent in the growing moonlight.

Ahead, the trees became thicker as the road began to rise into the foothills of the Valus Mountains to the east. A crenellated silhouette of a wall nearly blended into the treetops, only the right angles along the top of the barrier giving away its manmade origins. I slowed Paint even more and waited until I could hear the clopping of Drusus’s mount behind us. At the bottom of the slope, I stopped and dismounted from Paint. As I limped forward, I strained my eyes into the shadows on either side of the road, where thick trees and boulders crowded close.

Perfect place for an ambush. No wonder Drusus never saw anyone here - plenty of places to hide close to the road. Shaking my shield into my left hand, I drew my katana. A bird whistle - birdcalls in the middle of the night? - prompted me to raise my buckler as the thwap! of a snapping bowstring followed. The broadhead arrow smacked into the light iron, staggering me to the right. Booted footsteps on my right drew my head and katana around in time to catch the wrist of a mace-wielding woman. I kept my shield to the north side of the road, where I knew the bowman hid, and elbowed the female Redguard hard, freeing my blade from the bones of her wrist and kicking her legs from beneath her.

Drusus’s footfalls and clanking armor reached me. Still focused on the Redguard woman at my feet, I shouted at him, “Archer, in the trees on the left!” Drusus changed direction, and his footfalls went silent as he left the cobblestones of the road.

The woman regained her feet with an agility that surprised even me. She proved to be ambidextrous, just as adept with the mace in her left hand as in her right. She charged me, and before I could back away, she was inside my guard and swinging that mace low. The heavy iron head smashed into my right hip. With a groan, I danced left, chopping downwards with my katana to catch her left elbow. The blade bit into bone before skittering away, tearing muscle and tendon with it.

Effectively neutralized, the bandit dropped back, her mace striking sparks as it landed on the cobblestones and rolled away. Shouts in the trees across the road told me that Drusus had found the archer. Lifting the tip of my blade, I pointed it at the Redguard’s throat. “Are there more of you?” I demanded.

Her jaw clenched in defiance, the bandit used her right forearm to knock my katana away. Her left foot came up and slammed me in my belly, knocking the wind out of me. I managed to recover before she could follow through, and stabbed the katana into her lower abdomen. As I sliced the tip of my blade sideways, I heard her gasp, and stepped back as she shuddered to the cobblestones, blood appearing black beneath her body in the moonlight.

Short of breath, I looked around as the shouting fell into immense silence. Turning towards the trees where Drusus had disappeared, I limped across the road, my right hip stabbing with each step. The Legion rider reappeared out of the forest, sheathing his sword. A couple of arrows protruded from his chest plate, a couple more in his shield.

“There,” he said, catching his breath, and walking up to me. He yanked the two arrows out of his armor and looked at me, “That went rather well, I may say so.” His gaze sharpened on my face. “Are you hurt, Julian?”

“Ach,” I groaned as my hip twinged. “She managed to hit me once or twice, sir.” Together, we pulled the bandit’s body off the road, placing the corpse behind a clump of azaleas. I turned down the slope and started limping back to the horses. “It’ll heal,” I added, casting my healing as I spoke.

“I see Atellus is right,” Drusus said, an approving note in his voice. “You do know how to fight.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think I’m as good as I used to be, sir,” I answered. “It’s been a while.”

“Don’t worry, it’ll come back,” Drusus assured me as we reached the horses. My hip protested at the thought of mounting up, so I picked up Paint’s rein and started trudging for Cheydinhal. Drusus fell into step beside me, his bay trailing behind.

“I do hope I get it back, sir,” I muttered. “It would seem my work is far from done.”

“There are days when it seems like it never ends, huh?” Drusus commented. I nodded at the wisdom of his words. He may be young, as Atellus said, but experienced beyond his years. At the top of the slope, the closed gates of Cheydinhal visible less than a hundred meters away, Drusus stopped and mounted his mare.

“Thanks for your help, Julian.” He pointed out the stables to the left of the road. “There’s Black Waterside Stables. If you leave your horse in the corral, they’ll take care of him. You can pay them later.” He considered me a moment longer. “Get a bed at the Newlands Lodge. The innkeeper is a Dunmer, but it’s warm, cheap and comfortable. You’ll do well to stay there. There is the Cheydinhal Bridge Inn, but it’s more expensive.”

“All right, Drusus, thanks,” I said, leading Paint towards the stable corral. “I’ll see you again, sir.”

This was one of my favorite chapters before, and I still love it - but one of my all time favorites is coming up in the lodge!!!

Just caught up with chapters 7.4 - 8.1

Congratulations on starting a new thread here! Best wishes as you continue forward.

I enjoy travelling with Julian. I particularly like the intimacy that can be provided when you embrace the first person POV as you have so effectively done. I also continue to enjoy the personna that you bring to Paint. Well done!

Good chapter The bandits will be avoiding her at this rate - if there's any left.

Again it's nice to see characters from earlier in the story popping up again, it gives a sense of a three dimensional living world. I can't wait to see how you deal with Chedinhal, it's a great city.


Only one nit:
“Are you unhurt, I hope?” -- it might be an accent thing but this read strangely to me. Either 'I hope you are unhurt' or 'You are unhurt, I hope' would seem more normal, to me at least.

Ahh, it is Marc again. Always good to see an old face. And Tarquinius? Would he be the last king of Wellspring Cave (before Brutus overthrows him of course)? Seriously though, I like that you are using ancient Roman names for all of them, it brings a sense of overall cohesion to the setting.

with that white hair of yours they’ll think you’re easy game.
Obviously those bandits have never met Elric of Melnibone...

The road floated along the shoulder of the foothills
This is a particularly lovely description.

So Julian will be spending the night at the Newlands Lodge? I wonder if she will bump into a red-haired Bosmer there?


nits:
“Started out as a forester, so he’s a pretty tough honoured user.”
Looks like the board got you. Somehow I think Marc intended to make a comment about the legitimacy of Drusus' parentage...

In spite of his greater weight, I managed to knock him aside in time to backhand my katana against the man-feline.
man-feline sounds a little odd. I know that Bethesda has not given us many terms to use for Khajiit and Argonians, but perhaps saying just feline , or cat, would flow smoother. Or even just a more generic bandit or outlaw.

The battles were picture perfect in description. I can see how you have really gone over them and tweaked the writing to perfection. However, one thing I am seeing is that you are portraying the bandits exactly as they are in the game. That is to say with a total disregard for their own lives. It makes sense that religious fanatics like the Mythic Dawn would be suicidal. Same with undead and perhaps some monsters. But simple outlaws? Showing bandits fleeing after being disabled would be much more believable behavior, imho. It all comes down to how you want to write the story, more like the game, or more like reality. I think that in many respects you want it more like reality, which is the only reason I bring it up.

And here we go to part two! I for one am not parting with you...


...I may not post after every chapter, but rest assured I am still reading along!

Starting a new thread after 200, eh? Yet another idea of yours that I am going to have to steal!

Like I told you the first time I read this chapter, I like the way that you deal with bigotry in Cyrodiil. One of my biggest pet peeves is the way that people mistake bigotry for racism. Adrian Remus east of Skingrad is not a racist, he is a bigot. If he had the power to keep Julian from joining the Legion in the first place, that would make him a racist.

I can see the attention to detail that you have been paying to the fight sequences. Your battle scenes are some of the finest I have read. The only minor thing that I will say to you by way of critique is to be careful that you don’t lose the suspense that I remember from reading it before. Julian’s fights are never easy, but not since she was in Oblivion fighting Dremora did I have the feeling that she could actually lose. I know part of that is her returning strength and skill, another part of it is the level of opponent that she has been facing of late. Still another part is that I am reading this (and enjoying it) for the second time. I am sure that you have something planned for later in the story, and I for one can’t wait to read the part where Julian is clearly over her head in a violent situation, and how she survives it.

@mALX: So the lodge scene is one of your favorites? Wait until she comes back to the lodge! I know you haven't read that part yet, since it has not yet been posted on the other forum.

@Acadian: Thanks for the continued support! I'll start posting new material next week that no one has read yet, so be sure to check in once a week at least!

@Olen: Good call on the remark by Drusus. I'll rethink that one and fix it later. I'm glad you're enjoying it so far. At this point in the story, Julian doesn't spend much time in Cheydinhal, but she will eventually come to love it as much as I do, dichotomy and all. However, Anvil remains our favorite.

@SubRosa: I hope you like how I portrayed Romalen here. She is one of my favorite NPC's in Cheydinhal. Darn the censor! Drusus meant it as a sign of respect. As for the description of the Khajiit, I struggled with that one. Cat-man? Man-cat? Feline-man? I wanted to indicate that though Khajiiti and Argonians may be descended from cats and lizards respectively, they are as - well, human as men and mer, and therefore just as deserving of respect and courtesy, at least from Julian's POV. And thanks for the reminder about the bandits. I'll keep it in mind as we go along.

@Foxy: As long as you let me know when I screw up my combat scenes, that's all I ask from my vulpine friend. I know I don't have to ask for innuendos from you!

@Destri: Bigotry is way more prevalent than racism in real life, and a lot harder to combat. No, Remus isn't racist, just a bigot. And he's quite perlite about it, too. Thanks for the comments on my combat scenes. Julian will get banged up and beaten down a few more times before the end of the Main Quest. I will keep that in mind, though. She does meet bigger and badder foes as the story goes on. However, it's not the foes she's scared of, it's the rookies she has to fight with that scare her. You'll see . . .

Now I'm getting to the part of the story that some of you missed over on the Unnamed Forum. Basically interest in it there has been dead in the water, so I'm unlikely to continue it there. I hope that all of you reading here will continue to find this a good read.

And today is an absolutely gorgeous day, so I'm taking my mother to the Morton Arboretum (outside Chicago) for a picnic lunch and a walk among the trees. She hasn't been there since she had her picture taken with her dad when she was thirteen. He passed away the next year. I've never been.


In this next chapter, Julian finally has a chance to rest and recuperate.

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Chapter 8.2 Searching for Enlightenment

After settling Paint in for the night, I limped up to the closed gates of the city. A lone guard stood outside, his mailed armor covered by a surcoat. Entwined green vines on an ochre background covered the front of his surcoat and marked his shield.

“Out late, traveler,” he greeted me.

“Yes, sir, and I’m tired,” I answered, hearing the persistent pain in my voice. “I’d like to head in and find a bed.”

“Of course,” he said, knocking a rhythm on the heavy wooden panel with his gauntleted fist. The thick timbers rattled as the crossbar on the other side thumped out of place. The gate creaked open, and another guard peered out. “A traveler,” the first soldier said. The other stepped back to let me in.

As I turned to help him close the heavy gate, his eye fell on the Wolf on my left arm. “Hey, you’re the Hero of Kvatch, aren’t you?” he exclaimed, his gaze moving from the shield to my face. “The one that closed the Oblivion Gate and saved the city?”

“It was too late to save the city,” I answered, too weary to shush him. May as well get used to it. The gate closed behind me, I regarded the quiet street before me. Two half-timbered structures stood near the gate, directly across from each other. Cheydinhal Bridge Inn, the sign on the right said. The Newlands Lodge stood opposite, on my left. With a good-night nod at the guard, I limped toward the inn on the left.

Its diamond paned windows gleamed golden in the late night. The moonlight shone on the pale river stones that made up its foundation and ground floor walls. The upper level, half-timbered in elaborate patterns, rose to a steep-pitched shale roof. Four stone steps, rounded to match the contour of the corner tower, led to the reinforced wooden door in the base.

Smoky darkness welcomed me within, the common room just a little warm for my comfort. Grouped around a couple of small tables, five or six Orsimeri dwarfed their seats as they hunched together, murmuring between themselves. They gave me an assessing gaze as I looked past them to another room, where I saw the bar and the proprietor. As I limped by their table, I returned the gaze of each Orc without pausing long on any one visage.

At the bar, I set my pack and shield down and selected a stool, adjusting the katana at my hip so I could grab it if needed. The hard stares of those Orcs did not sit well with me.

“Hello,” the Dunmer woman behind the bar greeted me, setting a clay goblet before me. “Welcome to the Newlands Lodge. I’m Dervera Romalen, proprietor. What’s your pleasure, muthsera?”

“I’m Julian, from Anvil,” I answered. “Water, and some hot food, please, muthsera.”

“Did you run into those bandits in the valley west of here?” Romalen met my gaze. Looking down at my hands, I saw the blood stains on my right wrist and on the front of my leather.

“They won’t be a problem any more,” I said, scrubbing my right hand on my greaves. Romalen dipped a clean rag in a bucket of water beside the bar, wrung it out, and handed it to me wordlessly. “Thanks,” I said, wiping the blood from my hands, then my cuirass. “So I’m tired, I’m hurting, and I want a place to sleep tonight. Drusus told me this was a good place for it.”

“Of course,” Romalen smiled at the compliment, placing a bowl of stew in front of me. “This is a Dark Elf bar. Cursing, spitting, and screaming? No problem. Fighting’s fine with me, too, only the Guard objects. They’ll fine you or lock you up.” She shrugged. “Not my call. But I’m glad Drusus put in a good word. You’d think he’d prefer the other place, being Imperial and all.”

“He said you’re a good value for the price,” I answered. “I think the other place would have a problem with me walking in covered with blood.”

“None of it’s yours, I hope,” Romalen commented as she watched me eat. I shook my head, my mouth full of food. A shout from the other room caused her to scowl. “Give me a moment,” she said to me. She filled a large clay pitcher with mead from the huge cask behind her and headed out into the front room. Those Orsimeri called for refills. Romalen returned with an empty pitcher after a moment. “I have a bed available upstairs,” she continued, returning behind the bar. “It’s ten drakes for the night.”

Pulling out a ten-drake piece, I laid three single drakes next to it. “I’ll take the bed, and this is for the food. It was quite delicious, muthsera.” I finished the last of it for emphasis.

“Thanks,” Romalen smiled at me as she collected the gold. “Sleep well tonight, then. Hopefully that hip will be better in the morning. The room is upstairs, first door on the left.”

“Good night, muthsera,” I said, picking up my pack and shield. Stiffly, I regained my feet and limped toward the stairs in the front room. One of the Orsimeri rose to his feet and stood before me, his bulk effectively blocking my way. I met his black gaze, watchful for trouble. He was quite a few inches taller than me, and easily twice my weight. Be careful. Your hip and knee will only slow you down. I said nothing, but waited, aware of the other Orcs watching me.

“Gro-Gharz!” Romalen’s voice cracked from the back room. “Better stand aside and let her be!”

“I thought she didn’t mind fighting,” I heard myself say quietly to this green mountain of a mer. He chuckled at my comment and stepped back to let me by.

“Nah,” he replied, amusement in his voice. “But she minds the Guard busting in here.”

“Good night, then,” I nodded at him, extending the courtesy to the rest of his group. They grumbled a chorus in reply as I headed for the stairs.

Going up the stairs hurt, really hurt. Straining not to wince from the pain, I made myself climb the wooden steps. Aware of the Orsimeri’s continued regard of me, I couldn’t convince myself that they wouldn’t take advantage of me if I showed any weakness. Something about these Orcs bothered me, something lacking from other Orsimeri I had met in the past.

The room Romalen had assigned me was plain, but roomy, with a wide bed and a dresser. It didn’t take me long to strip down to my undergarments. After I cleaned my cuirass and greaves, I mended the small tears here and there. A study of the Kvatch Wolf, revealed numerous dents in its painted surface and the crimping around the edge where I had used it to deliver blows. Too late to use the hammer - I’ll have to do this in the morning. I felt too full from dinner to lay down, so I pulled out Brother Piner’s book.

I read the second chapter, which summarized the apparently catastrophic events that led to the formation of the western provinces, including Sentinel. The struggle to make out the words made me even more tired. The text too blurry to continue reading, I put the book back in my pack. After a couple of healing spells, I scooted beneath the covers, pulled the blanket over my shoulder, and closed my eyes.

Bright sunlight poured in through the small window above my bed and roused me. As I pulled on my leathers, I noted that my hip didn’t hurt at all today, and my knee felt just a little achy. Every day, it throbbed after hours of walking and standing on it, but fortunately the pain subsided every night with some rest. Wishing it would subside all the way into nothing, I reminded myself that at least it was not getting worse.

Downstairs in the back room, Romalen was already up and cooking. She set a cup of klah in front of me. From my pack, I drew out my map and the little purple books, looking for more clues. Much of it did not make sense, speaking of places and beings I did not recognize, strange combinations of words, odd syntax. Red-drink. Blood? King Maztiak. Someone who had his carcass dragged through the streets? Mnemoli. Traitors? Traitors to what? Lord Dagon? That could mean most of us mortals. I found the words somewhat disturbing in their denseness.

Toward the end of the third book, a phrase jumped out at me: Starlight is your mantle, brother. Wear it to see by and add its light to Paradise. It was about the only thing in the entire series that made some sort of rudimentary sense to me. Starlight. Where I need to go, it will be dark, and I must go humbly. Only then can I draw near the heart of the matter - the Amulet of Kings.

As I considered the implications of my thoughts, I sighed to myself. Leaving my weapons behind rubbed against my grain as a soldier - just having them on me made me feel less vulnerable. That is the whole point of entering as a novitiate, I thought to myself. Stripping myself of all worldly possessions, going to meet my Divine - or in this case, my Daedric Lord, as naked as the day I was born, for this is a form of rebirth.

Can’t I just fight my way in and find the Amulet? I wondered, studying the map again. I could see the shoreline of a small lake near the location of the shrine.

The Amulet is buried deep. They will hear my coming, and hide it, or take it beyond my reach, I answered myself. Best to approach as one of them, get near the Amulet, before I reveal my true intentions.

“Traveling again, muthsera?” Romalen asked as she set the plate of eggs and ham before me, refilling my cup with more of the strong, black liquid.

Why would anyone visit a lake? I wondered to myself. “I thought I would go to this lake,” I indicated it on my map. “I’m thinking it might be a good place for a little fishing.” Kind of a weak story, isn’t it?

“That’s Lake Arrius,” Romalen said, looking at the markings on my chart. “There’s a Heaven stone north of it, and a cavern system to the west of it. The caverns are uninhabited as far as I know - nothing worth looting.”

“It’s cold up there,” she added, taking a seat behind the bar and sipping at her mug. “You’re not likely to find slaughterfish there, if it’s the scales you’re after. However, I believe there are some mountain trout, those make good eating. If you can catch enough of them.”

Given the situation, I decided to leave my pack behind and travel light. Placing another ten-drake piece on the counter, I looked up at Romalen. “I think I’ll be back tonight,” I said quietly. “I’d like to leave my pack here, if that’s fine with you.”

“No problem,” Romalen said, taking the coin. “Keep the key.”

Exciting stuff. I somehow doubt we've seen the last of the Orum gang... You showed the Newlands Lodge well and made Romalen quite likable, I suspect we might see more of her too.


Little details like this really bring your setting to life.

And now off to some of the heaviest fighting - and unarmed! You've left quite a cliff hanger here.

And he's quite perlite about it, too
He is an amorphous, volcanic glass?

I feel your pain with the lack of terms for Khajiit and Argonians. I never liked the term "beast-races", as it does seem demeaning to me, as it compares them with animals. I think we need to simply invent some terms. Not just for them, but for all the intelligent races as a whole. Being a woman, "Men and Mer" is not something I want to use ("Women and Mer" maybe). I have been using the term "mortal" for lack of anything better. Calling people "sentient" might work I suppose. I am sure Tamrielites would have some kind of catch-all term for all the intelligent races.


Julian got one of her first "Hey, your're the Hero of Kvatch!" moments I see! I always hated that in the game. I see she is not to enthused about it either.

I love the level of description you go into with the Newlands Lodge. Not stones, but river stones, a shale roof rather than just a roof, etc... You go the extra distance here that I never think of.

Stripping myself of all worldly possessions, going to meet my Divine - or in this case, my Daedric Lord, as naked as the day I was born, for this is a form of rebirth.
Well said! This is indeed the case in initiation. Perhaps best conveyed in the legend of Inanna and her descent into the Underworld.

Can’t I just fight my way in and find the Amulet?
You can in the game! Of course, reality would be a lot different...


nits:
A study of the Kvatch Wolf, revealed numerous dents in its painted surface, the crimping around the edge where I had used it to deliver blows.
I do not think you need the commas in the middle there. It stands well as a single sentence if you just put an and where the last comma is..

I am getting so wound up by the fact that we are about to start getting NEW CHAPTERS !!!!!!!!!!! WOOOOOOT !!!!!!!!

@Olen: I'm quite sorry, but if you thought that last chapter was a cliffie, well, wait until you read this one! Continue to enjoy when you get back from moving!

@SubRosa: I sure seem to have an aversion to the word 'and', don't I? Thanks for the catch! It has been fixed! As for 'perlite', I was trying to capture the Southern way of speaking. Oh well!

@mALX: Contain thyself, minx! New Material starts (for you and D. Foxy anyway) on Thursday!

Now begins the adventure so many seem to be waiting for! Julian thinks she's thought things through, but this only proves the old axiom, Nothing ever goes as Planned (it's a hell of a notion, even Pharaohs turn to sand, like a drop in the ocean . . .). Okay, that was more a song than an axiom, but you get the picture!

Chapter 8.3 The Path to Dawn

After checking in on Paint at the Black Waterside, I found a gravel path leading north past the stable into the foothills. It led me to a ramshackle house surrounded by an equally ramshackle stone wall. The two-story half-timbered structure rose above overgrown hedges and shrubs, heavily shaded by tall trees. I skirted the wall to the west, continuing north. The land rose steeply in front of me, trees, grass and blooms giving way to gravel, boulders, and lichen.

I had left my pack and the Kvatch Wolf in my room, taking only the leathers I wore and the katana. Though the weapon was very distinctive, and might make me recognizable, I still couldn’t bring myself to leave it behind. The only other items I carried were my belt pouch, containing my coins, and the small bag, slung over my shoulder, containing the four volumes of the Commentaries, in case I needed them.

Soon the slope became very steep, forcing me to veer west. Before long, I encountered a rough cobblestoned road that lead to the top of the slope. Following the road, I soon came upon a small lake, its clear waters reflecting the blue sky. A waterfall burbled at its north end. The path I stood on turned to follow the western shore of the lake.

Winded from the climb, I sat on a nearby boulder to survey the area. To the west of the road, a cliff rose sheer, running back further into the mountains themselves. Above me, at the top of a faint trail that crossed the face of the escarpment, I could see a cave entrance. The trail ran north towards the road, meeting somewhere along the western shore of the lake. That’s got to be the cavern system Romalen spoke of. As I consulted the map in my head, I studied the contours of the land around me, matching what I saw with what I recalled. Satisfied that the two matched, I pushed myself off the rock and started limping up the road. The shrine has to be in those caverns.

The sun stood well past the zenith when I reached the entrance to the cave. The light dusting of snow that had accumulated in front of the door showed signs of prints of people entering and leaving, and grooves left by the bottom of the door as it opened and closed. The solidity of the latch belied the battered, weathered appearance of the door.

The wooden panel swung open with a loud creaking. I froze, listening for alarm from within, but heard nothing but the rising wind blowing cold from the northern mountains. Ducking inside and closing the door behind me, I flinched at the noise. They never oiled the hinges. A very effective alarm. The tunnel within was immediately warmer, once I was out of the wind.

Daylight seeped through the cracks in the door behind me, lighting the first few meters of the tunnel. The rest of the passage dropped through shadow to an amber glow at the bottom. The light had the flickering quality typical of torches. So they’re no longer hiding the fact that this cavern is occupied.

“Who’s there?” a voice called from below. My katana drawn with the tip toward the floor, I limped down the rough corridor. My heart pounded as I stepped into the torch light, finding myself in a large domed cavern. A young man, dressed in the characteristic red robe of a Mythic Dawn acolyte, stood at the far end before a pair of torch standards. Unarmed. Probably knows a few summoning spells. I sheathed the katana and approached, my palms open and out to the side.

His red hood cast shadows across his face, making it hard for me to see his expression. I stepped to one side of him to force him to turn partly into the torchlight. Enough of his visage emerged for me to see his boyish Imperial features. He watched me warily.

“I’ve come for the Mythic Dawn,” I said quietly. His eyes flickered from my white hair to my katana, narrowing thoughtfully at me.

“Dawn is breaking,” he intoned.

What? Something surfaced in my whirling thoughts, spoken in Raven Camoran’s voice during his condescending lecture to Baurus. “Greet the new day,” I responded reflexively.

“Welcome, sister,” the doorkeeper remained dubious. “The hour is late,” he continued, “but the Master still has need for willing hands.” He stepped between the torch standards to the door set in the rock wall. Swinging the door open, he pulled on a cord hanging next to the jamb. A chiming sounded from within as he returned to where I hesitated, between the flares. “You may pass into the shrine,” he said, pointing me to the open doorway. “Harrow waits within. Do not tarry.”

With a deep breath, I entered the dark, winding passage beyond the door, its far end glowing with torch light. As I limped my way toward the light, a shadow fell across the passage. My right hand twitched for my sword hilt, but I kept it clenched at my side.

The Dunmer blocked my path, eye to eye with me. Tall for a Dunmer, he matched my own slightly above average height, and the black hair springing from a pronounced widow’s peak gave him additional stature.

“I am Harrow,” he said in the hoarse voice typical of Ashlanders, “warden of the Shrine of Dagon.”

“I am Julian,” I answered, reaching into my small bag and pulling out the four volumes of the Commentaries. “I have these -”

“You have followed the Path of Dawn hidden in these writings of our Master, Mankar Camoran,” Harrow said, waving the books away. “You have earned your place among the Chosen.”

I put the books back in the small bag and glanced up at him. “Your doorkeeper said I’m late?”

Harrow shrugged. “The time of preparation is almost over, and the time of cleansing draws near,” he explained. He led me to an alcove behind a torch standard and drew out a red acolyte’s robe from a small dresser placed there.

“As a member of the Order of the Mythic Dawn,” he placed the robe on top of the dresser, “everything you need will be provided from the Master’s bounty.” His eyes gleamed as they rested briefly on first my white hair, then on the hilt of my katana. “Put on this initiate’s robe, and leave your possessions here.”

I eyed the Dunmer dubiously. He cocked a slanted eyebrow at me. Reluctantly I turned away from him and unbuckled the katana. I laid it on top of the dresser, forcing my hand to leave it there. My small bag went next to it. Then I unbuckled my cuirass and shrugged out of it, placing it over the katana so I wouldn’t have to look at it anymore. After I removed the padded tunic, I pulled the robe on over my head, its woolen folds warm on my skin after the brief exposure of the cool, damp air of the passage.

After I removed my boots, I unlaced my greaves and slid them off, dropping the skirts of the robe over my legs. Harrow stopped me as I reached for the boots I had set aside. He looked at the hem of the robe, which reached my ankles. “Leave the boots, too,” he said. I stared at him, stunned. “All initiates must go barefoot to Dagon,” he explained. “Once you are initiated, you will be provided with appropriate footwear.” My soul screaming at leaving the katana, I turned around to face the Dunmer, my hands shaking. His hands mimed raising the cowl over his head. My own hands mirrored his movement at the collar of my robe and I found the heavy folds and covered my head, pulling the edge forward over my face.

“Very good,” he said, eyeing me up and down. His gaze stopped on the ring on my little finger. “Take that off, too,” he ordered. My heart in my throat, I obeyed, tucking the ring into my belt purse. Harrow stepped forward and took the belt purse, leaving the rest on the dresser. His long blue fingers did linger on the hilt of the katana in a caress that left my skin crawling. Tucking my purse into a pocket of his robe, he turned and led me to a second door. “Now I shall take you to the Master,” he spoke over his shoulder.

My feet recoiled from the cold stone floor as I followed after the Dark Elf warden. My heartbeat dunned in my ears with each step I took away from my katana. He led me first into a second shadowy cavern, a stone dais in the center lit by more of those flaming torches. As covertly as I could, I scanned the cavern, but saw little outside the light of those brands. Harrow skirted the platform and led me toward another corridor leading out of the cavern. Two red-robed men, one an Altmer and the other an Imperial, passed Harrow as they left the passageway. “Dawn is breaking,” each said to him.

“Greet the new day,” he responded to each in turn. They eyed me as I followed Harrow into the corridor, but did not speak. Before I continued after Harrow down the passage, I watched them take up positions around the dais.

Harrow led me to another door, lit by another pair of torch standards, with yet another one of the red-robed members, this a Dunmer woman. “Dawn is breaking,” she said to me as Harrow opened the door.

“Greet the new day,” I managed to respond. My mind was still screaming for the katana - Fool! Never leave your weapon behind! Hobbling after Harrow, I found myself on the upper level of a huge, shadowy cavern. The center was well below the outer rim, too far to jump down. There a high platform with a horned altar at one end and a colossal statue of a four-armed Daedra Lord, served as the focus of a gathering of acolytes. That has to be Mehrunes Dagon, I studied the sculpture. That’s one ugly lavasucker.

Harrow paused and turned to me. “How lucky you are,” he said, barely suppressed jubilation in his voice, “to be initiated by the Master himself!”

I tore my my gaze away from the dais, where a blue-robed Altmer held forth sermonizing to his audience, and stared at Harrow. “Th- that’s Mankar C- Camoran?” I stammered.

“Aye, that he is,” Harrow said proudly. He pointed out the equally tall woman, dressed in red with a mages staff at her back. “And the lady with him is his daughter, Ruma.” He led me to a wide flight of stone steps that led down a landing, where another set of stairs rose to the upper level at the opposite side of the cavern, and a third set dropped down to the floor. Scanning the cavern, I spotted at least four shadowy figures around the upper level. Guards. Harrow led me to the group of several acolytes standing before the dais, who listened to Camoran with rapt attention.

“- Dragon Throne is empty,” the stentorian voice rang out, “and we hold the Amulet of Kings!” As I drew near the platform, I recognized the large red diamond in Camoran’s left hand. The Amulet of Kings! How dare he! “Praise be your brothers and sisters,” the Altmer mage continued, tossing back his iron-grey hair. “Great shall be their reward in Paradise!”

“So sayeth Lord Dagon!” the acolytes around me chanted, mesmerized by Camoran’s charisma. “Praise be!” As Camoran continued pontificating, I glanced at Harrow. He watched me, his red eyes speculative.

“The time of cleansing is now here!” Camoran’s roar snapped my attention back to him. “I go now to Paradise, to meet with Lord Dagon! When I return, Lord Dagon shall walk with me at the coming of the Dawn!” As he stepped back from the altar, he turned his back on the acolytes. At the center of the dais, he tipped his head back to look up at the colossal statue at the far end and lifted his hands. My breath stopped as Camoran brought his hands, the Amulet between them, together above his head and disappeared into a ball of argent light.

ARGH!!!! I am so hyped I have been doing a victory dance, and we all know I can't dance!!! This is Awesome! I can't wait till Thursday !!!! Great Write !!!!!

I just noticed you changed the topic description in this, the 2nd thread of OHDH! Subtle, and accurate!

This is now virgin territory for me, as I gave up on the Beth forum at this point. So now the fun of rediscovery has turned to the wonder of seeing events through Julian's eyes for the first time.

Good touches with Julian's eye noticing the footprints outside, the grooves made by the door, its sturdy hinges, etc... Then the creaky door being left that way on purpose as an alarm.

“Dawn is breaking,” he intoned.
Well go out and fix it!
Sorry, I always think that when they shout that at me. Seriously though, I like how you handled the secret password, and Julian's quick-thinking to realize what the response was.

Good work portraying Julian's apprehension at leaving her armor, weapons, and the ring (I do not remember that, was it an family heirloom?). Especially delicious was the way Harrow caressed her sword, and how his eyes lingered over her white hair. I can see that he recognized her there. I think the International Woman of Mystery is going to have a warm welcome next post!


btw, are you ever going to get an avatar?


nits:
The light dusting of snow that had accumulated in front of the door showed signs of prints, prints of people entering and leaving,
Pints is showing up twice here, I think you can just delete the second occurrence and it will read fine.

Chapter 8.2 Searching for Enlightenment



That’s right, Julian. You may as well get used to it. I have a feeling that getting recognized will start happening more frequently as the story continues.

I love you description of The Newlands Lodge. From its rustic exterior to the cozy interior that was a little too warm for Julian’s taste. I also like the way that she sizes up the Orsimeri (good word!). In that moment, when she is regarding each one in turn, we see the transition that is taking place within Julian. She seems to be caught between the shadow of the soldier that she once was, and the image of the Blade that she is becoming.

I wonder if the Orums moved aside for Julian because her remark gave them a measure of respect for her, or if they saw the Kvatch Wolf on her arm. Either way, her handling of that situation was a joy to read again.

Chapter 8.3 The Path to Dawn

I remember this chapter from last time, but I remember it differently. You changed quite a bit, didn’t you? You really set the stage well in this version. The suspense one feels in reading it is almost palpable, and my skin crawled with Julian’s when Harrow was fondling the sword. Hands off n’wah!! I am with everyone else in expressing my excitement for the new chapters to come. Bring ‘em on!!

My only nit:

This is an awkward pair of sentences. The first part reads as if she is reluctant to turn away from him as opposed to being reluctant to strip in front of him. That first comma is also unnecessary. You could streamline the whole thing by saying something like:
I turned away from him and reluctantly unbuckled my katana. I placed it on top of the dresser and forced my hand to release it, leaving it there.

@mALX: I gather it's a good thing that I live in a different state from you, and can't see what passes as your victory dance.

@SubRosa: The ring is the Jewel of the Rumare, which Julian keeps on her at all times to remember her friendship with a certain Breton fisherman. Leaving it behind was almost as hard for her as leaving that lovely katana behind. As for that avatar, I don't think so. I tried getting a picture to upload, and it wouldn't work. Probably something to do with the fact that I'm on a Mac? Oh well, I've never used an avatar, so it's not a burning issue for me. Your nit has been fixed.

@Destri: I tried to convey the Orum Orc moving out of her way because of the comment she made defusing the situation. As for the awkward sentences, I did rewrite them, but I wanted to convey that Julian didn't want to turn her back on Harrow, a potential assailant. She would rather keep him in front of her, with or without her katana.

@all: This is the final post on the other forum. Few of you likely have seen this one (I only know of two), and this is a chapter I really struggled with, but feel very proud of the end result. Starting on Thursday, it will be new material to everyone but myself. Enjoy! Oh, and Destri, I wrote this chapter for you!


Here is the rest of Julian’s adventure in the Dagon Shrine.

*************
Chapter 8.4 The Dagon Shrine

Stunned, I stared at the afterimage of the portal. Harrow approached me before I could recover my composure. “Don’t worry, initiate,” he assured me, clapping his hand on my shoulder. “You will soon follow the Master into Paradise!” He led me to the side of the dais and pointed out the stone steps in the edge. “Go to Her Highness, Ruma Camoran, for your initiation!”

On the dais the Altmer woman, her face shadowed by her cowl, waited for me. Still reeling from the disappearance of the Amulet, I climbed the stairs, Harrow steering me with his hand on my shoulder. As I stepped onto the dais near the foot of the statue of Mehrunes Dagon, I glanced to my right and spotted a bound Argonian laying on a low altar at the statue’s base. Nude but for a loincloth, his scaled skin had the grey undertone of ill health, and his eyes were closed.

Harrow guided me to where Ruma Camoran stood near the horned altar. A silver ceremonial dagger rested on its surface, next to a large volume bound in a bone-white leather cover. “You have come to pledge yourself to Lord Dagon’s service,” Ruma intoned, her feminine voice an echo of Camoran’s. “The ritual requires red-drink. Take the dagger,” she indicated the silver weapon laying on the taller altar at the front of the dais. “Sacrifice to Dagon for your initiation,” she pointed at the Argonian.

Blood sacrifice? I looked back at the Argonian, who lay with his eyes open, watching me dully. No, I can’t do this. Harrow reached up with his free hand and drew my cowl back before gripping my other shoulder. Ruma’s eyes gleamed as they fell on my white hair.

“Or would you prefer to be the sacrifice, Hero of Kvatch?” her voice held a note of triumph. The blood fled my face as I realized the danger of my situation. They’ve recognized me!

My mind started spinning through options, slipping into combat mode. Free the Argonian. Take the book. Kill Ruma Camoran, and Harrow, if I have to. Get my money back from that fetcher. Get the Argonian out of here alive. Find my armor and sword. Use the dagger on Ruma first, get that staff away from her. She’ll be dangerous with it.

The rising panic suddenly dissolved, replaced by a familiar calmness, the same calmness I felt standing in the ranks waiting for the order to engage. I may well die here, but by Akatosh, I will fight as if I’m immortal. My long-forgotten personal mantra came back to me, slowing my heartbeat to a sedate thumping in my chest.

“Ki’ire!” The long-forgotten word escaped my lips, white energy cascading around and through me. Of its own volition, my body shook off Harrow’s grip and sprang for the altar, my right hand closing around the grip of the dagger. My fingers brushed against the volume, sending shocks of energy tingling up my nerves. In that instant, the large glyph on its bone-white cover sent chills down my spine. That looks like an Oblivion Gate, I realized. But I had no time to dwell on the mystery of that book.

Shouts whirled around me as I spun toward Ruma. She backed away, bringing her staff around. As I chased her, I caught the head of the staff with my left hand and yanked it toward me. This brought Ruma within blade-range of the dagger, which flashed across her throat. Her grip on the staff eased, and I wrested it from her slack fingers as she crumpled away. Beyond her, Harrow sprang for me, teeth bared in a hateful grimace.

My grip slid down to the center of the staff, and I whirled it in my hand to bring the steel-capped end into Harrow’s soft belly. His lungs emptied as he bent forward, his own throat meeting the edge of my dagger. I moved toward the Argonian, his eyes now sparking with interest. A nearby guard charged me, and I blocked his mace, letting the horned weapon slide down the shaft away from me.

This brought me within his guard, and I sank the dagger into his side, between the front and back plates of the bound cuirass. Hot blood cascaded around my hand, telling me I had struck something vital in his belly. As his weight slid off my blade, I leaped for the Argonian, who now sat up, his bound hands in front of him.

The dagger flashed, trailing blood, and parted his bonds. Behind me, shouting warned me of another attacking sentry. Whipping my left hand to the side and behind me, I brought the steel-capped end of the staff against his cuirass, feeling the solid thwack! which sent him staggering back.

“That’ss a magess sstaff!” the Argonian shouted at me. “It firess sspeellss!”

I shoved it at him. “Here, then! I don’t know how to use it that way!”

Apparently, the intended sacrifice did, for he lowered the gnarled head of the staff toward the knot of assassins now climbing the steps to the dais. Yellow sulfurous fire sizzled forward from the tip of the staff, engulfing the three attackers in sickly smoke. They collapsed, two of them vomiting blood, another voiding his bowels violently. The odor of sickness pervaded the air.

Panicked acolytes ran toward the stairs leading out of the chamber, screaming and waving their hands in the air. Their flight hampered the attacks of the rest of the guards from the upper levels.

The book! I ran for the altar and seized the volume, shoving it into my robe, where the belt created a loose pocket in front of my chest. My skin crawled from the contact with its power.

Behind me, the colossal statue crumbled with a loud crack, falling into pieces over the sacrificial altar and the stairs, just missing the Argonian. The screaming escalated as the acolytes ran for the entrance to the cavern, only to have a heavy iron grate slam down, shutting off their escape. Two more attackers made it down to the cavern floor, trailing yellow smoke from their summons.

Catching the Argonian’s elbow, I leaned to his ear. “I’m Julian. What’s your name?”

“Jeeliuss,” he hissed back. He hefted the staff and aimed it at the two oncoming assailants. “You lead the way.” The two attackers crumpled to the floor, with similar results as the first group.

I hobbled to Harrow’s body, holding my breath against the stench of illness. A quick search of his robe, located my belt purse and an ornate iron key. I snatched them, shoving both into the pocket of my own robe. Desperate to get out before my summoned adrenaline wore off, I scrambled over the pieces of the statue to the steps leading off the platform. I could hear Jeelius’s bare feet slapping the stones behind me.

Ahead, the acolytes ran up the second set of stairs that led to the far side of the upper level. Fighting against their panicked flight, more guards streamed in through a second entry I had not noticed before.

“Give me room!” Jeelius hissed, and I ducked sideways against the wall as he shot more of that sickly spell at the armed attackers. They scattered before the spell reached them, and it hit only two of them. The other three came on, maces swinging.

Two of them attacked Jeelius. It became clear to me that the Argonian was no fighter. Ducking beneath the swing of the third one, I stabbed him in the throat and grabbed his crotch with my left hand. I placed my right knee behind his legs and raised my left hand, upending him over my thigh. He flipped over the edge of the stairs. My Argonian friend managed to block one mace strike with the staff, and I felt anger rise in my chest at the unfair odds.

Martin’s words on the Gold Road, when we were walking to Weye from Skingrad, surfaced in my mind. I clenched my left hand against the rage, letting it build up and seethe. When flames licked around my fingers, I flung the flare spell at one of the two assailants. He caught it full in the helm, which became scorchingly hot.

With an agonized scream, he yanked the metal cover off, and his face came off with it. I ignored the gruesome sight and jumped toward the other guard, sinking my dagger into her unprotected thigh. With a twist of the blade to cause as much muscle damage as I could, I elbowed her back into the stairs. With a painful shout, she threw her mace at me in desperation. The weapon struck my right shoulder and clattered away down the steps.

Another flare-spell flew from my fingers into her face, and I kicked her over the side of the stairs. Then I grabbed Jeelius and hauled him up the stairs after me. The second entrance was now locked, but Harrow’s key opened it. We bolted through the door, and heard more shouts ahead.

What followed was a chaotic impression of maze-like passageways, attacking assassins, fleeing acolytes, and the staff spitting that horrid yellow fire.

Jeelius proved to be a solid supporter. By using the staff on the attackers when they were still some distance away, he thinned their numbers for me. He also sent convalescence spells my way whenever I was wounded or hit by spells. Suddenly the staff went dark in his hands.

“Out of charge,” Jeelius spat, throwing the staff away in disgust. We kept running.

We came to a locked, bolted door. Jeelius cast a quick spell at it, and I heard the lock click over. I went through to find myself in a small chamber, a narrow passageway dropping downward to dead end at a rock wall. I started to backtrack, but Jeelius directed my attention to a hand crank mounted on the wall at the top of the passageway. He spun the lever clockwise, and the wall at the bottom of the corridor rumbled into the floor.

Through the new opening I recognized the entry cavern, where I had encountered the door keeper. That young man was nowhere in sight. Halfway through the cave, I collapsed to my knees as the adrenaline I had called failed abruptly. Jeelius knelt beside me, calling my name in concern.

“I’m all right,” I gasped, shaking violently, my forehead on the rocky floor. “It’s just the adrenaline crash.”

“That was the famous Redguard adrenaline rush?” Jeelius asked softly. “I’m impressed!”

“Oh, I hate it,” I muttered. “It tends to leave you at the worst possible time.” That’s what happened before. As my hammering heart slowed down, and my breaths became less painful, I staggered to my feet. When my battered feet and right knee took my weight again, I stifled a cry at the pain. With Jeelius staying close to my side, I wobbled to the passageway that led into the shrine, where I had first met Harrow.

Relief nearly overwhelmed me when I found my armor on top of the dresser, as I had left them. The leather felt smooth in my hands, and I sighed at the sight of my katana. I took the bone-white book out of my robe and slipped it into the small bag, underneath the four Commentaries. Stripping out of the loose-fitting robe, I glanced at Jeelius. His back to me, he looked cold in the damp air of the cavern. I handed him the robe, then quickly slipped into my padded tunic and leathers.

My katana belted on my hip, I felt complete, though still shaky. As I turned toward the entry door, Jeelius stopped me with a hand on my shoulder. Warm white light passed from him to me, and the shakiness disappeared. Grateful for his healing, I handed him the ceremonial dagger.

Quietly, to avoid attracting attention of any remaining survivors, I led Jeelius to the tunnel leading for the surface. We stepped outside into falling snow, glimpses of stars visible through chinks in the overcast above. “Feels late,” I commented. As if in answer, my stomach growled. “Jeelius, let’s get to Cheydinhal. It’s about two hours away.”

“I need to get back to the Imperial City,” Jeelius said, falling into step behind me. “Not to ssound ungrateful, but -” his voice trailed off. Glancing back at him, I saw the uncertainty in his expression.

“My horse is at Cheydinhal, and I’ve also got a room at the inn there,” I responded. “I’m hungry, and tired. Come with me, I’ll get you food and a bed as well. We can leave in the morning.”

Jeelius did not speak again until we left the slippery trail and reached the shore of Lake Arrius. “You will esscort me to the Imperial City?”

“I’m going to Bruma,” I answered, “but yes, I’ll escort you as far as I can.”

And the next will be totally nude!

ER er er I meant totally new!!!!


Can't wait to see it!!!

... the STORY I mean.... just in case you were thinking of anything else, which I'm sure my pure, innocent, virginal mind cannot imagine.

WHEW!!!! (exhales loudly) - Holy [censored] !!!!!! Hauty.... WHEW!!!! - Holy [censored]!!!! - Awesome Write!!!!!!!!!!!!

Choke! Gasp! (mALX fell over in a dead faint)

How could I forget the Jewel of the Rumare! Probably because you have me thinking of Aelwin all the time, but not his precious gift. That, and since Julian rides a horse everywhere, she never has an opportunity to put the ring to good use by swimming across Lake Rumare when she comes and goes. One of the reasons I do not like using horses in the game.

Having a mac will not prevent you from uploading pics. It was probably just too big. This board will only allow you to use images up to 90 pixels by 90 pixels in size, and only in the gif, jpg, jpeg, or png formats. Take a look at the pic you wanted to use, and either crop or resize it down to within that if it is too big. Or just try using one that the board comes with. Scratch that, they are not too good.

I like Julian's mantra. A good one for a warrior. I will have to see if I can work that into the next chapter of the TF.
I may well die here, but by Akatosh, I will fight as if I’m immortal.

Her reaction from touching the book was a good touch as well. The Son's Companion is not likely to mix well with the words of Mehrunes Dagon!

A very exciting, chaotic running battle! Also we finally get to see the famous Adrenaline Rush! I never use once a day powers like that in the game. Usually I forget I have them. Or I always wind up saving them for that one special moment, and never use it because I never know when that is. I have been working on changing all of the racial powers to either make them permanent (with lower bonuses) or have them cost magicka and be usable any number of times, the same as a regular spell.

, and his face came off with it.
ewww!




nits:
slowing my heartbeat to a slow thumping in my chest.
You have slow twice here. Perhaps use the word easing in place of the first instance?

I went back and re-read the sentence in question. It turns out the mistake was mine, not yours. I withdraw my earlier comment about it.

Chapter 8.4 The Dagon Shrine

This was a fantastic chapter! It feels as if the entire story just accelerated. Finally battle is truly joined between Julian and the Mythic Dawn. From here on everything is ALL NEW!!!

Not only is Julian too late to get the amulet, she has to stand in front of Ruma Camoran for her initiation into the Mythic Dawn. You description of her mental state as she is led to the dais by Harrow, and of the gray undertone to the skin of the Argonian, are excellent.

The moment of recognition when Ruma calls Julian the ‘Hero of Kvatch’ was quite a shock. It stands as the one time when I didn’t want Julian to be recognized. I love the jumble of thoughts that run through her mind. The fact that:





The battle that follows is magnificent! Ruma’s staff is particularly nasty! The giant statue crumbling when Julian takes the book reminded me of an Indiana Jones movie. Jeelius proves to be an able companion to have on your six. The Adrenaline Rush that enables Julian to perform super-human feats is perfectly explained, as is the subsequent crash that leaves her as weak as a newborn afterwards. I’m also glad that Julian was able to reclaim her weapons and armor. I wasn’t sure how she would manage that when all hell broke loose. Can you tell I had a good time reading this? I am left with only one question:

Did Julian get her money back?

Edit: Hey, that was my 200th post. Now I have a daedric oht under my name!

Three chapters.

The first was a wonderful interlude full of character development at the Newlands Lodge - I loved it.

The second was a transition to and into Mankar's lair. Necessary and nicely done to set the stage for what would follow.

The third required an epic fight scene. Oh my. You did not disappoint. It was magnificent, my friend!

I continue to really enjoy Julian's story.

Whew... All caught up now and that last part was quite something, really exciting And we have another character, I'm interested to see how you deal with Jeelius, I've never had him alive when I've left the base so it will be a first for me meeting him.


This line didn't sit well with me seeing as in the circumstances there would be enough adrenaline (of a non magical kind) that her heart would be hammering regradless and the subsequent scene was of a most heart pounding nature. Most heart pounding... it was excellent, I would go as far as to say my favourite yet.


Wooo Perhaps a shade OTT after a stab in the throat but you just described a rather brutal version one of my favourite throws. Awsome.

I also like that you made more fo Mankar Cameron still being around than the game does, but if I listed everything I liked about that chapter I'd be going paragraph by paragraph...

@ D.Foxy: Nudity is, as always, purely optional.

@mALX: You are much too easy! Fainting at Foxy's innocuous comments?

@SubRosa: I have the exact same problem as you - I always forget about those once-a-day powers. My Dunmer has never used her Ancestor Guardian, my Imperial has never used her Voice, and my Nord has never used - what the heck is it Nords have??

@Destri: Your comments are almost as much fun to read as my chapter was to write (the last draft of it anyway). I'm glad you enjoyed this chapter!

@Acadian: Thank you, Paladin. Julian and I aim to please! (aside to Foxy: quiet!)

@Olen: It takes me several run-throughs and multiple saves to get Jeelius out alive. I like his reward when I catch up to him again in the Temple of the One later in the quest. Though Jeelius will not adventure again with Julian like that, he will be a friend in much the same manner as Aelwyn. There will come a time when Julian will need such friends. As for the slowing of the heartbeat at the moment of discovery, I wanted to convey how much Jelin's teachings have affected Julian's combat style. Think of Jelin as a kind of Zen warrior monk, and you'll see that in Julian's mindset at scary moments like this.

After much fanfare, this marks the first post of entirely new material (i.e. never before seen on any forum). Enjoy, everybody!

After the chaos of the Dagon Shrine, Julian is looking forward to a peaceful night’s sleep. Will she get it? We’ll see.

***********************
Chapter 8.5 The Newlands Lodge

The snow had changed to rain by the time we reached the city gates. Bone-tired and weary, we trudged up to the guard, who looked as miserable as we felt.

He grinned at me in greeting, but his welcome faded as his eye fell on Jeelius, soaked woolen robes unmistakably red in the darkness. “This is Jeelius,” I said, anxious to avoid trouble. “He saved my hide more than once today. That in spite of the fact that he was the intended sacrifice for a Daedric cult.” Catching the guard’s stare at the red robe, I realized the source of his unease. “I gave him that robe to stay warm,” I finished, putting firmness in my tired voice.

“Any of those worshippers still alive?” the guard turned his gaze back to me. “Can we expect any more trouble from there?”

“A lot of them are dead,” I shrugged. “As for the rest, who knows?”

“Perhapss they will ssee the error of their wayss and leave the cult,” Jeelius volunteered, his voice carefully neutral. He gestured at me. “If not for Julian, I would have been dead, mysself. It iss I who owe my life.”

I shifted my feet as the guard grinned at me, rapping the gate at the same time in the signal to open. Again, the gate was unbarred and opened from within. Again, the guard inside greeted me as the Hero of Kvatch.

“It’s late,” I said to Jeelius, leading him to the Newlands Lodge, “and I’m tired. Let’s get inside and get some food and sleep.”

“Ssoundss good,” he answered. “It hass been a very long day.” The right corner of my mouth twitched at his ironic tone as I opened the door and waved him inside.

Within, we encountered the Orsimeri again. They gave me a quick glance, and stared at Jeelius with open hostility. I paused beside their table and waited until they looked away from Jeelius, carefully avoiding my gaze. As we moved to the back room where Romalen waited, I heard the Orcs muttering behind me, but could not make out their words.

“Hello, muthsera,” I greeted Romalen, remembering the Dunmer honorific. “I’d like supper for two,” I indicated Jeelius and myself, “and another bed for the night.”

“Of course,” Romalen had already begun filling two plates with hot, hearty stew. “Any friend of Julian’s,” she set a plate in front of Jeelius, “is always welcome here,” she smiled at the Argonian as she set the second plate in front of me. Easing the small bag from my shoulder to the floor, I picked up my fork and started in on the grub.

“It sseemss Julian is well known here,” Jeelius replied, following suit with his own utensil. “I am grateful to you, muthsera.”

Romalen glanced at me. “How was the fishing?” she asked. I looked blankly at her before recalling our conversation earlier in the morning.

“Ah, they didn’t bite,” I answered, pointing at Jeelius with my fork, “but I caught something better - a new friend.” In the corner of my eye I saw Jeelius’s fork falter on its way to his mouth.

“Maybe next time,” Romalen said with a smile.

“Why?” I asked. “Would you like some?”

“It’d be a nice change from the usual, wouldn’t it?” she countered. Her eyes flickered beyond me scornfully. “Not that they’ll appreciate it, though.”

I shrugged. “Most Orsimeri are appreciative of good cooking,” I remarked. “At least the ones I’ve known. They tend to have generous hearts and good spirits, for all that they’re so brusque and curt.” I couldn’t help smiling at the disbelieving glances from both Romalen and Jeelius. “After all,” I slapped my cuirass pointedly, “it was an incredibly skilled Orc smith who took this cuirass from something ordinary and made it into my second skin, and wouldn’t accept fair recompense for the work.”

“I had wondered about that,” Romalen spoke slowly, uncertainty in her red eyes. “I hear that you’re the Hero of Kvatch. Is it true?”

I looked down at my plate, concentrating on my meal. Beside me, Jeelius finished the last bite and set his fork down with a soft clink on the clay dish. “Aye, I believe sso,” he said softly. “I had heard the rumorss in the Imperial City, before I wass kidnapped.” He cast a sidelong glance at me. “A sskinny Redguard woman, with white hair, carrying the shield of Kvatch, iss the ssame woman who went into the Oblivion Gate outsside the city and clossed it by hersself.”

I sighed. So that’s how they recognized me. Heard the same rumors, likely. “I won’t deny it,” I said finally, finishing my food. “But I’ won't talk about it, either.”

“But your story is the best news we’ve had in a while,” Romalen exclaimed softly. Beside me, Jeelius nodded. “All right, I won’t speak more of it,” the Dunmer shook her finger at me warningly. “But get used to it. People will seize any shred of hope, any bit of good news, in dark times.”

“And we need it, thesse dayss,” Jeelius agreed quietly.

Romalen cleared away the plates. “Julian,” she turned back to me. “I can see that both of you are tired. I’ve held the room you took last night, but I have a customer in the other room. There’s only a bed out on the landing just outside the two rooms.”

“That’s fine,” I answered. “We’ll take that bed, too. How much for it, ten drakes?”

“Of course not!” Romalen exclaimed in mock offense. “What do you take me for, a scalper? That one bed’s half-price because it has no privacy.”

With a smile I handed her the gold. “Here you are, then. Thanks, muthsera.” I rose to my feet, picking up the bag. “Good night, and we’ll see you in the morning.”

“Good night, friends,” Romalen returned, returning the smile. “Sleep well.”

Jeelius followed me back to the common room, where the Orsimeri still nursed their brews. This time, they did not look up as we passed, but their murmurs took on an ominous tone as we headed up the stairs. They sound like trouble. At the top of the stairs, I surveyed the landing, spotting the bed off to one side near the doors. Though I didn’t like how exposed it was to the stairs, I liked the sound of the Orcs below even less.

“Jeelius,” I led him into the room I had used the night before. My pack still sat on the bed where I had left it, undisturbed. The Kvatch shield rested against the wall, the bow and Daedra Slayer still laid on top of the dresser.

Placing the pack on the floor next to the dresser, I picked up Daedra Slayer and turned to the Argonian. “Sleep here,” I gestured toward the bed. “I’ll take that one out there.”

“You’re paying for the room,” Jeelius matched my quiet tone. “You sshould have the privacy.”

“I’ve slept in barracks for years,” I countered softly. “I’m used to the lack of it. Besides,” I hefted Daedra Slayer, “I’m better armed than you.” His eyes widened at my words.

“You expect trouble?” he hissed. “Very well, I sshall trusst in your judgment.”

“And lock the door,” I said as I stepped out. A second later, I heard the lock click, and moved quietly to the cot. Carefully, soundlessly, I drew my katana and laid it along the edge of the cot, Daedra Slayer on the floor within easy reach. After I turned the lamp beside the bed down, I lay on my left side, the katana’s hilt beneath my right hand.

It wasn’t long before a soft scuffle on the stairs roused me from a deep slumber. My right hand tightened involuntarily on the katana as my eyes searched out the source of the noise. The bulk of an Orsimer creeping up the stairs greeted my gaze, surprisingly quiet in spite of his bulk. As he moved towards my location, I caught the glimmer of a dagger blade in one large fist.

By his groping movements, I knew his night vision hadn’t returned after the relatively bright light downstairs. Once he was within blade-range, I sat up, whipping the katana forward to rest the tip against his bare throat. The Orsimer froze, not breathing.

“Did you expect an unarmed guest?” I whispered, for I could hear the snores of the guests in the rooms behind me. While I wanted to avoid making a scene, I wanted to make my intent clear - make the wrong move and you will be dead.

Very good.

I personally would have put a clanger (something to knock over in the dark and make a sound ) at the head of the stairs, but overall your security procedures are quite fair.

Continue the good work!

Nords get blond hair! Seriously though, Nords get a once a day shield and a once a day frost attack, plus a hefty resistance to frost. The Imperials really seem to take it on the chin when it comes to racial abilities. They can absorb fatigue (in Morrowind that would help, but in Oblivion I found I can just ignore fatigue completely with no issues) and get a once a day charm. I have been trying to think of good bonuses to give them instead. With the idea of making them more like Romans, I gave them an endurance and willpower bonus. I was thinking of removing the dragon skin from the Bretons and giving it to the Imperials instead, as the extra magicka and resist magic that Bretons already have is already uber as it is.

But this is supposed to be about Julian. On to her, I wanted to observe that I like how you portray the gate guards as exactly that, guards. They are there to look over whoever wants in and out of the city and stop people who might be dangerous. Where in the game they feel ornamental (unless you have a bounty on you, in which case their guard radar will pick you out for that apple you stole in Hammerfell two years ago).

I see our poor Redguard is being tortured with praise again! Oh horror of horrors! The way you worked that into Julian's realization of how she was recognized by the Mythic Dawn touched my economical writer's heart.

And now look who ends with a cliffhanger!

WOO HOO !!!!! Already the Mythic Dawn are seeking Julian out for killing their brethren! WOOOOOOT !!!!!

I am so hyped about getting new material on this story!!!!! YEAH !!!!!

Hmmm a fight with the Orum gang, well an encounter anyway. You've ended on a cliffy, again. I'm confused as to the Orc's motive, but I'm sure all will be revealed.

And more of her trying to duck out of fame, just wait until the Mythic Dawn start attacking her, then its really going to be hard to avoid being noticed and applauded. It should be fun to watch her squirm, she's a really strong character now and things like that round her off excellently.

I await more with excitment

I always wondered why I haven't caught up yet on your wonderful story. Is is because I'm busy? Nah. Is it because of my stories? Of course not.

Or is it because of my self centered attitude? More likely! Lolz.

Anyway, I liked the description of the battle in Chapter 8.4. Brutal and outright pandemonium erupted, I like that in stories. And your description of the bittersweet taste of Adrenaline Rush is just fantastic!

And expanding Jeelius' role rather than a prisoner? Brilliant!

I will stay tuned and wait for the next update, H.E.R!

SubRosa has already beaten me in praising your use of the guards that mind the gate into Cheydinhal. I might add that, in addition to their ‘guard radar’ that gives them knowledge of past crimes committed, the in-game guards prove useful if your horse is being chased by a pesky troll that you can’t be bothered to swat.

Julian continues to prove herself equal to the title ‘Hero of Kvatch’. Her reluctance to acknowledge it is precisely what makes her worthy of it. What was it that Tumindil said in the Skingrad Chapel (I think it was Tumindil)? That Julian is a natural protector. Well, she does give Jeelius her bed to protect him from the Orum gang.

Sounds like a ‘Hero’ to me.

@D.Foxy: Julian, like me, is a light sleeper and wakes easily at the slightest sound. Besides, an Orc trying to sneak quietly up the stairs? His brachycephalic breathing would rouse the dead! But thanks for the advice, I'll keep the clanger in mind.

@SubRosa: Yes, Julian has a hard time adjusting to the praise. It'll be a while before she's comfortable being recognized as the Hero of Kvatch. Worse is yet to come for her!

@mALX Kitty: As always, your enthusiasm is welcome!

@Olen: I think you'll like her first encounter with a Mythic Dawn secret agent. Though why we call them secret beats the heck out of me, since they always blow their cover at their first sight of the Hero of Kvatch. Wait until she has to explain that one! As for the Orum gang, my feeling is that a come-to-Jesus meeting between these Orcs and Julian is inevitable. Whether this encounter is enough to clear the air, or more needs to be done later, I'll let Julian (and the rest of us) find out.

@ureniashtram: Welcome to Julian's world! I'm glad to see you here! I hope you continue to enjoy this story. I try to throw in enough testosterone for the guys to balance the chick stuff. I'm glad you enjoyed the slam-bang-pow-bash in Chapter 8.4.

@Destri: Julian finds the guards useful when dealing with the Mythic Dawn agents! Thanks for remembering Tumindil's comment that Julian is a Protector. I am forever grateful to that Altmer for so clearly defining Julian's natural instincts.

And now I shall end the cliffhanger.

*************
Chapter 8.6 Trouble

With the tip of my katana against the Orsimer’s throat, I sat up and swung my feet to the floor. I waited until he spread his hands, lowering the dagger to the floor. My left hand reached to the floor and picked up Daedra Slayer, shaking the scabbard off the enchanted blade. I rose and walked forward, keeping the katana against the other’s neck, forcing him back one step at a time. When he reached the top of the stairs, he paused. Now I stood next to the dagger, and I kicked it over the edge of the landing, hearing it clattering down the stairs.

With a pointed gesture from the katana, I motioned for him to turn around and head down the steps, resting the tip of my blade against his back, over his left kidney. “Slow,” I warned him. “One step at a time, friend.”

His hands up, he obeyed, walking down the stairs slowly. My katana still on him, I followed, extending Daedra Slayer to my left over the bannister as we cleared the upper floor. I could see the other Orsimeri standing beside their table, on the other side of the common room. One of the mer held Romalen in his fist, other hand over her mouth. He met my gaze over Romalen’s dark head, and I recognized gro-Gharz.

“I’m not in the mood,” I warned, hearing the implacability in my tone. “Release the lady now.”

“Why?” gro-Gharz challenged me. I nudged the Orsimer in front of me with the katana.

“What’s your name?” I asked him. “I like to know the names of my friends.”

“Magub gro-Orum,” he answered, his voice filled with anger. “And I’m not your friend!”

“Really?” I asked. “Are you sure you want to be my enemy?” Not waiting for an answer, I looked at the others. “And the rest of you?” At the bottom of the stairs, I stepped to one side to keep all the Orsimeri in my line of sight. Two of them were female, and seemed uneasy, but the two male mer scowled at me. “Come on,” I put a joshing tone in my voice, “I like to know who my friends are.”

“Borba gra-Uzgash,” one of the females, stylishly dressed with a courtly hairstyle, answered first. She stepped sideways, away from the others, her open palms held out at her side. “I run Borba’s Trade and Goods next door.” She shot a scornful glance at the men. “I want no part of this,” she spat, her fierceness directed more towards the males than at me.

“Then leave peacefully, friend,” I said to her. “I shall not hold this against you, gra-Uzgash.”

“Thanks,” she said, backing toward the door, more wary of the other Orsimeri than of me. The other female made to follow her, but stopped when I shook my head at her.

“Oghash gra-Magul,” she answered my look. “Like Borba, I want no part of this.”

“I believe you, friend,” I responded, moving my blades to encompass the men, still clustered together. “Leave so I can settle this misunderstanding.” Gra-Magul did not need encouragement. The door closed quietly behind her as she left the inn.

“Magub gro-Orum,” I said, when the other mer remained angrily silent, “why don’t you introduce your friends?”

He glowered at me. Stay cool. If they really wanted to harm me, they would already have done so. They are angry because they have misjudged me. I locked gazes with him.

“Magub, I have no wish to get the Guard involved in this,” I kept my tone neutral. “But if you have no wish to be my friends, then I’ll have to kill you all.”

The third Orsimer snorted derisively. “I am Dulfish gro-Orum,” he growled. “I run the Orum gang, and you don’t scare me at all!”

I turned my gaze on him. “Then, Dulfish, I shall have to admit that you scare me,” I kept my tone quiet. “And like the scamps and dremora who have scared me, I shall have to kill you.” His black eyes widened at my words, whether at my admission of my fear, or the reminder of the rumors about the Hero of Kvatch, I wasn’t certain.

Dulfish gro-Orum spoke sharply to gro-Gharz in an undertone. The big Orsimer released Romalen, who moved to stand behind me, clear of my blades. ‘You would admit that you are afraid of us?” gro-Orum questioned. “Of me, of Magub, of Bazur gro-Gharz?”

“I fear my enemies, but not my friends,” I answered. “My friends do not harm me, nor do they betray my trust in them.” I shrugged, Daedra Slayer mirroring the flickering light from the lanterns with its own fiery shimmer. “Do I have reason to fear you?”

“You bet -” gro-Gharz began, but gro-Orum slapped him up the back of his head.

“Quiet, Bazur!” he snapped. Looking back at me, he held his hands out to his sides. “It would seem that we have underestimated you, Hero of Kvatch,” he remarked, his tone deceptively casual. “You are quite smart - for a Redguard.”

“Oh, I don’t think I’m that smart,” I refused to take the bait and kept my tone mild. “Just common sense, and years of experience, that’s all.” Again I shrugged, again Daedra Slayer shimmered. “If we have cleared up this misunderstanding between ourselves, then there is no reason why we can not continue to be friends.” As I lowered the tips of my swords to the floor, Daedra Slayer thrummed in my left hand as it flared on contact with the wooden boards.

Gro-Orum’s eyes flickered at the enchanted sword, and I knew he understood the lethality of the iron blade. “Aye, just a misunderstanding, Redguard,” he repeated. “No harm intended.”

“Good,” I said. “Now it’s late, and I’m sure you would like to head home. This little episode can be forgotten by morning. Agreed?”

The tension among the three Orsimeri eased at gro-Orum’s sudden grin. “Aye, it will be forgot by morning!” he exclaimed. Clapping Magub and gro-Gharz on their broad shoulders, he nodded at me. “And you are right, it’s late, and we have had a little too much to drink! Good night, Hero of Kvatch!”

“Good night, friends,” I returned quietly.

The Orum leader gestured the others to precede him out of the inn. In the entry tower, he looked back at me. “This doesn’t make you one of us, Redguard, nor are we bosom buddies,” he said warningly.

“Aye, I don’t expect us to get close at all,” I replied lightly. “All I expect is civility from each other.”

Romalen waited a few moments after gro-Orum left, then moved to the door and barred it. Turning to me, she shook her head.

“As soon as I knew what they intended, I tried to warn you,” she said, her tone anxious. “But they wouldn’t let me!”

“Just what did they intend?” I thought I knew, but I wanted to be certain.

“They thought your friend Jeelius would be on the cot on the landing, while you would be sleeping in your room. They intended to rob him, and maybe scare him a little.”

“All right,” I assured her. “There’s no harm done. I had Jeelius take the room, and lock the door besides.”

“How did you know -?” Romalen’s brows climbed higher.

“I had a feeling about them,” I answered. “Other Orsimeri I’ve met aren’t mean-spirited like these are.”

“Borba gra-Uzgash is a good woman,” Romalen mused. “She tried to stop them from going through with the robbery. She said it was a bad idea. They wouldn’t listen to her.”

“Hopefully the next time they think up another cockamamie plan, they’ll listen to her,” I smiled ironically. “I’m tired, and it is late. Go to bed, muthsera. Jeelius and I will see you in the morning.”

And off the cliff we go!

“But if you have no wish to be my friends, then I’ll have to kill you all.”
Exactly what I was thinking!

That was a very tense segment (see I found a word for these partial chapters that you and I post), brimming with the threat of violence! Julian handled it all with both daring and diplomacy, and I am glad to see that she did not have to make use of that famed Redguard adrenaline again.

Argh, I had thought it was the Mythic Dawn starting their attacks, lol.

The Newlands Stalemate! I see that Julian is not against using the role of Hero of Kvatch to avoid confrontation. That was the first time that I have seen her accosted by the title without being embarrassed. Her decision to let the orcs draw their own conclusions about what she can and cannot do made this chapter segment (thank you SubRosa). I especially liked the brief interaction between Bazur gro-Garsh and Dulfish gro-Orum. What better way to define each mers place in the gang hierarchy than a smack to the back of the head? There is a small part of me (okay, maybe not so small) that was hoping that the orcs rose to Julian’s challenge, but I must admit that it turned out better this way.

And haute . . . Stoney Jackson?!

I echo what's already been said, solid part filled with tension. You show more of Julian's calm and self-control here though I can't see it completely smoothing things...

Nicely done with the constant threat of violence.

@SubRosa: Julian does not like the Redguard Adrenaline Rush very much. She was glad the Orums didn't call her bluff, as she was just too tired for more fighting.

@mALX: You will have to wait until Julian heads off to Bruma to see the Mythic Dawn blow their cover.

@Destri: I was channeling Jethro Gibbs in that little exchange between Bazur and Dulfish. Yes, I thought that smack to the head was appropriate given the situation.

@Olen: No, things with the Orum gang will be quiet for a while, but they'll be a problem again later on. Julian's just glad she doesn't have to deal with them right now.

Time to leave the wonderful Newlands Lodge and head out again. We get to know Jeelius a little better. And so Chapter 8 finally draws to a close.

******************
Chapter 8.7 Jeelius

Morning came without further ado. The guest in the other room roused me as he left. My eyes opened in time to catch the hilt of the hammer at his back disappear down the stairs. Rising stiffly from the cot, I gathered my two swords. With a soft knock on the door to Jeelius’s room, I called his name softly.

The lock clicked and the door opened. Jeelius, dressed in the red woolen robe, greeted me. He looked better today - his scaled skin had more of its beautiful color this morning. His orange eyes were bright with concern. “Good morning, friend,” he said. “Trouble lasst night?”

“Not really,” I shrugged, not wanting to tell him I had been right about those Orcs after all. I stepped past him into the room and gathered up my pack, small bag, my bow and quiver. “Are you hungry? We have a long trip ahead of us.”

“Ssome food would be wisse,” he responded. “I am ready if you are.” He took the small bag off my shoulder. “Let me help you with ssome of that.” I hid my reluctance at letting him take the bag containing that mysterious book.

“Then let’s go see what Romalen has for breakfast,” I said. Heading for the stairs, I glanced back at Jeelius. “Sleep well?”

“Yess,” he answered. “Once I fell assleep.”

“Take long?” I asked, wondering if he had heard the exchange between me and the Orum gang last night.

“A little while,” Jeelius answered as we reached the bottom of the stairs and headed for the back room. “It’ss not eassy to forget what hass happened,” he added by way of explanation.

“As long as you had no nightmares,” I commented as we took seats at the bar. With a silent good morning nod at the blond Breton already seated there, I recognized him as the other guest by the war hammer at his back. “Good morning, muthsera,” I greeted Romalen as she set two laden plates, full of bread, amber honey, and cooked eggs, in front of us.

“Good morning, both of you,” she greeted us. “Sleep well?” her tone was bland, as well as her face when I shot her a sharp glance.

“Yess,” Jeelius said again, diving into the food with gusto. “The room wass very comfortable, thank you.”

“Good,” Romalen’s tone lightened. She did not speak again while we ate our breakfasts. The Breton watched us bemusedly, nursing his steaming cup of klah. Jeelius pushed his plate away before I finished my last bite.

“That wass quite good, muthssera,” he commented, stretching his spine. He rose to his feet and bowed to Romalen. “I sshall tell everyone in the Imperial City of your generous hosspitality.”

“Thanks!” Romalen exclaimed as Jeelius picked up my small bag. As the Argonian made for the front door, the Dunmer’s gaze fell on me as I gathered my gear. “Don’t worry about the Orums,” she murmured as she took my plate.

“Certain they won’t cause you any trouble?” I asked, just as quietly. Romalen shook her head dismissively.

“They’ve caused trouble before, but have never held any grudges against me.”

“If they start, you’ll let me know?” I pressed. I did not feel comfortable with the idea of the Orum gang continuing to visit Romalen’s inn for their drinks. She smiled lopsidedly at me.

“Borba is a good friend of mine,” she remarked. “She’ll keep the others in line.”

Didn’t do such a good job of that last night, I kept my thoughts to myself. “I’ll see you again, muthsera,” I said before following Jeelius.

After settling Paint’s account with Mivryna Arano at the Black Waterside, I loaded my gear onto the horse and led him out of the corral to where Jeelius waited near the road. Paint nudged my back as we stopped next to the Argonian. “Sorry,” I stroked Paint’s arched neck. “We’re not riding today.”

We walked down the hill toward the broad valley in companionable silence, each of us alone with our thoughts. Jeelius is likely thinking of the past couple of days, like me. As for Paint, only Paint knew what was on his mind.

We soon reached the little lake to the north of the road, at the bottom of the valley where I had seen the wolf two nights ago. He was nowhere in sight, but I still watched for him. Jeelius exclaimed softly and asked me to wait. He darted off the road to the lakeshore, kneeling beside some plants. Leaving Paint beside the road, I followed, my hand on my hilt, watching for predators. The surrounding hills were peaceful, and I looked to see what had seized Jeelius’s attention. Several plants, some with broad, round leaves and brilliant red or yellow blooms, others with fine yellow flowers and tall feathery leaves, clustered near the water.

Jeelius selected one of the red-flowered plants and uprooted it, showing me the forked root. “Ginsseng,” he said to me. “The root can damage luck when used in bassic potionss.” He showed me the taller plant with the small flowers. “That’ss fennel,” he explained. He showed me a few dried blossoms hidden by the brilliant yellow blooms. “Their sseedss are good for resstoring your energy.” He picked the seed pods, careful not to damage the flowers.

“The besst time to collect them iss in early winter,” he added, studying the pods in the palm of his hand. He tore a strip of wool from the hem of his robe and wrapped the ginseng root and the fennel seeds carefully in it. “They are uncommon around the Imperial City,” he added, as we returned to the road.

“There’s so much to learn about alchemy,” I commented. “Beginning with what the plants are.”

“Aye,” Jeelius agreed as we started up the other side of the valley. “That by itsself can be a daunting tassk.”

Reaching into the pack at Paint’s cantle, I fished around until I found the Pocket Guide to Cyrodiilic Flora. I handed it to Jeelius and asked, “Is this any good?”

“Yess, it iss quite valuable, when you are sstarting out,” Jeelius answered. “Once you get more experiensse, however, you will need more advanced guidess.”

“With everything I’ve been doing,” with a sigh, I placed the book back in the pack without breaking stride, “it’ll be a long time before I need an advanced guide.”

“But that time may come before you know it,” Jeelius glanced at me, his pointed teeth bared in a grin, his orange eyes sparkling with humor. “Jusst focuss on what you need to know now.”

Paint tossed his head at the sound of hoofbeats on the cobblestones ahead. The mounted rider appear over the top as I looked up the hill. “There’s Drusus,” I said. “He’s a good man to know.”

As the rider approached us, the bay’s ears flicking at Paint, I waved a greeting. Drusus stopped when we drew near, his mare touching noses with Paint. As the horses blew softly at each other, I caught Drusus’s questioning glance at my Argonian companion, his eyes narrowing at the red woolen robe the other wore.

“This is my friend Jeelius,” I offered, pulling Drusus’s gaze to mine. “He ran into some trouble with the Mythic Dawn north of Cheydinhal, so I’m escorting him back home.”

“And where is home, Jeelius?” Drusus asked coolly. To his credit, Jeelius met the rider’s gaze unflinchingly.

“I am a priesst in the Temple of the One, in the Imperial City,” he answered smoothly, his voice matching the other’s tone.

“How did you end up so far from home?” Drusus’s voice warmed slightly.

“I wass taken five dayss ago,” Jeelius replied. “They blindfolded me and took me out through the ssewerss. After that, I do not know where they took me, until Julian,” he nodded courteously at me, “resscued me and brought me to Cheydinhal.”

“How did you know they took you out through the sewers?” his persistent suspicion caused me to regard Drusus with some surprise.

“The ssmell,” Jeelius answered simply. Drusus laughed in response. I stared at the horseman’s abrupt change in demeanor.

“Well said, Jeelius,” he said when he had caught his breath. “And Julian is escorting you home?”

“Part way, at least,” I answered, glancing at Jeelius. “I’m traveling to Bruma, but I’ll escort him as far as Weye, unless we run into Atellus.”

“Actually,” Jeelius responded, “once we get to Lake Rumare, I’ll be fine.” Again his eyes sparkled. “It iss much quicker to sswim acrosss the lake than it iss to walk all the way around.” He shrugged. “Once I’m on the isle, I can take care of mysself.”

Drusus chuckled silently at my expression. “He’s an Argonian, after all, Julian,” he commented. “More at home in water than on dry land, no?”

“The water iss my natural element, yess,” Jeelius agreed affably.

“Then I’d best let you continue on,” Drusus remarked, his bay pawing at the cobblestones, her shoe sparking with a ring. “Mariel does not like to stand still for long.”

Jeelius bowed stiffly to the rider. “It wass my pleassure to make your acquaintance, good Drussuss,” he spoke formally. “May Akatossh guard your path.”

“As he has guarded yours,” Drusus tossed off a salute with a sidelong glance at me. “And farewell, Julian. May the Nine watch over you.”

“And the same to you, as well,” I responded as his mare - Mariel - stepped past Paint. The three of us, Jeelius, Paint and I, resumed our climb up the hill.

“That Legion rider sseemss to think well of you, Julian,” Jeelius commented as we crested the hill. Scanning the road ahead for bandits or predators, I shrugged.

“We met when I was ambushed by a couple of bandits. Drusus came along in time to keep me out of trouble.” I answered quietly, glancing at him. “I find traveling easier when I stay on the riders’ good side.”

As we walked on a little more, we encountered a rising mist, the sun fading into overcast. “Lookss like rain,” Jeelius commented.

“Feels like it, too,” I nodded in agreement. The mist grew heavier, thicker, beading silver on Jeelius’s woolen robe and my leather cuirass. The air grew cooler, until I started looking for our breaths. Not quite cold enough. We reached the junction of the Blue Road with the Red Ring Road about mid-afternoon. The stone arches that marked the intersection did not appear out of the fog until we were almost underneath them.

Jeelius turned to me. “Here, we musst part wayss,” he said quietly. “Your path liess to the north, and mine iss due wesst,” he pointed in that direction, past the ruins of Fort Urasek. “Good luck on your misssion, Julian,” he continued, holding his right hand to me. Taking the proffered hand in return, I matched his long-fingered grip.

“When you get back to the Temple,” I said, “pray for me, and above, all, pray for the Empire. In these dark times, we can use all the help we can get.”

“I will pray for you, Hero of Kvatch,” Jeelius responded, his eyes shining. “You have done much for me, and I will never forget.” He squeezed my fingers a little more firmly in emphasis. “When next you come to the Imperial City, find me in the Temple of the One. I will be glad to ssee you again, friend.”

“I will,” I promised him. “I will come to see you.” I felt a smile warming my damp cheeks. “Rather sooner than later, friend.”

I am wondering if he was suspicious because of the red robe, but when Drusus said



I was afraid he was trying to trick Jeelius.

Great Write, and I am loving these new chapters !!!!!

A nice, quiet segment for a change! It was nice to take a relaxing walk and just look at the scenery. And Mariel I see. I like how you continue to give the horses in your fiction names and personalities, making them characters as much as anyone else.

Jeelius forgot to mention that fennel is quite tasty too. I always put it in my dough when I make calzones.

“It iss much quicker to sswim acrosss the lake than it iss to walk all the way around.”
My thoughts exactly! I always thought it was strange that they put no way across the lake except for the bridge in the west. I think I have seen a mod that add a boat that will take you across the eastern side.


nits:
After settling Paint’s account with Mivryna Arano at the Black Waterside, I loaded my gear onto Paint and led him out of the corral to where Jeelius waited near the road.
You have Paint twice in the same sentence. I think you can just trade the last instance for "him, or "the horse".


As for Paint, only Paint knew what was on his mind.
same here.

Drusus’ questioning of Jeelius struck me as too pointed to be the innocent concern of a Legion rider. He knows Julian, the two of them have fought and spilled blood together, so when she vouched for Jeelius that should have been the end of it. The fact that he continued to question the Argonian makes me wonder what his motive is.

I imagine that saving Jeelius from the Mythic Dawn isn’t an easy thing to do. I applaud Julian for seeing it through and escorting the poor fellow home.

SubRosa already pointed out the repetition of Paint. That was my only nit for this chapter.

Good piece, a distinct feeling of calm before the strom though...

I agree with Destri that Drusus seemed highly suspicious, though I suppose he only knows Julian's ability and not her cultist killing passtimes. Nice touch with Jeelius swimming the lake, help to show how the races are different and how it changes what they do (this is one of the reasons argonians are my favourite race, their gameplay is actually different).

I liked the ginseng and fennel, the first makes good tea and the second is great in hard tack (it's an appetite supressant and makes it slightly more edible). Along with the details of the horses it really amkes the setting come to life for me, it's things like that which are so good

And now back to see Baurus again?

I think the reason for Drusus' suspicion was the fact that Jeelius was wearing a Mythic Dawn robe. He and the other "authorities" should know to look for those robes by now, as all the dead assassins of the Emperor and his sons were found wearing them.

Three chapters, and I loved them.

I like Orcs. Quite a bit actually. It was heartening to read how Julian likes them too and quickly embraces that there are good and not so good individuals within any race. In fact I like how she openly accepts all the races and notices the beauty in each, such as how the beautiful color had returned to Jeelius' scales and the sparkle in his orange eyes.

The stand off with the gang was great. Full of tension but not a drop of blood shed.

I believe I detect a growing richness in your wonderful writing. I know I am certainly enjoying traveling with Julain.

@all who noted Drusus's suspicion of Jeelius, it was triggered by the red robe. No good law enforcement takes just the word of an acquaintance alone.

@mALX: I'm glad you are enjoying the new material.

@SubRosa: You and I have the same feeling about Lake Rumare. A lot of times, I just swim across. There is actually a couple of places that are truly fords, where the water is shallow enough to walk across. Makes me wonder how ships make it to the Waterfront! I have fixed your first nit, but left the second one alone as 'Paint' is repeated twice for effect.

@Destri: That is just another example of Julian as the Protector. Why would she leave him to fend for himself and find his way home? Especially after the way he helped her during their escape from Lake Arrius Caverns?

@Olen: Yes, back to see Baurus again!

@Acadian: I love Orcs, and Argonians. Orcs because I can be as grouchy as they are! Argonians just because they're so different from the standard Elven/Human/Orcish races.

The next turned out to be a very short chapter and really served as a bridge between the Path to Dawn quest and the Spies quest.

***********************
Chapter 9 - Return to Cloud Ruler Temple

By the time we reached the road leading from Bruma to Cloud Ruler Temple, the sun had disappeared behind the western ranges. The alpenglow escaped through a crack in the overcast, lingering on the high peaks to the east of us and lighting our path. Paint cantered through the dell, as anxious as I to reach the end of the road. However, when we reached the steep climb up the escarpment, I reined him back to a walk, letting him catch his breath. Stars glinted through fast-dispersing clouds by the time we reached the gates to Cloud Ruler Temple.

I dismounted and led Paint through, then dropped his reins to close the tall gates against the night. Booted footsteps came down the stairs, and Jauffre’s bald pate appeared beside me, helping me with the heavy panels.

Once the gates were barred, I thanked Jauffre between puffs of cold air. He clapped me on the shoulder as we returned to waiting Paint. “Thank Talos you’ve returned safely!” his tone was anxious and relieved at the same time. “Baurus told me you were on the trail of the Mythic Dawn. Do you have the Amulet?”

With a sinking heart, I shook my head. “No, sir. Mankar Camoran has escaped with it.”

“Mankar Camoran?” Jauffre exclaimed, picking up Paint’s rein and starting up the steps. I fell into step beside him. “That man lived over four hundred years ago!”

“He’s Altmer, sir,” I responded, shrugging.

Jauffre muttered under his breath as we climbed the stairs, his face flushed with emotion. Roliand met us as we reached the top, giving Paint a pat on the neck. Jauffre handed him the rein and helped me take my gear off Paint’s saddle.

“Please tell me you have some good news, Julian,” Jauffre could not keep the despair out of his face and voice. I shrugged, watching Roliand lead Paint to the stables.

“I have something that might be useful, sir,” I admitted. “I think it was something Camoran used when he escaped with the Amulet. He left it behind.”

“What is it?” he demanded, leading me to the Hall of the Blades, carrying my pack with the bow and quiver attached.

“It’s a book, sir,” I answered, “written in a script I don’t recognize. I can feel power in it, though.”

Jauffre’s face brightened. “Take it to Martin right away,” he said. “He’s hardly taken time to sleep since you left.” He looked down at the pack in his hand. “Is it in here?”

“No, sir,” I patted the small bag slung from my shoulder. “In this.”

“All right,” Jauffre led me into the timber-framed hall. Setting the pack down near the door, he waved me toward a table halfway down the hall, to the right. By the light of the lamp on the table, I recognized Martin’s face. A few books were stacked at his elbow, along with parchment, quills and ink pots. His intent gaze focused on a book in his hands.

Behind him stood Baurus, back in his blue and brass armor, in that pose of alert watchfulness I remembered all too well.

The warmth of the hall made my frosted cuirass feel suddenly cold, and I shivered involuntarily. I stopped at the table and waited for Martin to notice me.

“Ah, you’re back, Julian!” he greeted me, welcome and gladness in his weary expression. “I told Jauffre not to worry.” Now he frowned at me, waving me to sit down. I took the bench across from him all too gratefully. “But I see from the look on your face that you have bad news,” he said more somberly. “You weren’t able to recover the Amulet, were you?”

“No, Sire,” I answered, watching his face fall. Digging beneath the purple volumes of the Commentaries, I drew out the bone-colored book and showed it to him, my fingers twitching from its power. “But I have this.” His eyes widened when his gaze fell on the cover.

Seizing the book from me, he looked at me with horror and alarm. “By the Nine!” he exclaimed. “Such a thing is dangerous to handle!” He laid the book carefully on the table, hovering his hands protectively over it. “Forgive me, Julian. You were right to bring it. But these Daedric volumes hold such great power, they can corrupt those who are not prepared for them.”

My brows rose high. “Daedric volume?” I repeated. “You do know what that is, then, Sire?”

“Why, this is the Mysterium Xarxes,” Martin met my gaze. “Do you mean to tell me you never guessed what it is?”

I stared at him. The Mysterium Xarxes? I found the actual Mysterium Xarxes? The idea scared me more than the thought of facing that den of Mythic Dawn without weapons. “N- no, Sire, I c- couldn’t read the script on the c- cover,” I stammered. “This is the book written by Mehrunes Dagon himself?”

Jauffre leaned over my shoulder to regard the book. “Now I believe it was Mankar Camoran himself you saw, Julian,” he said gruffly. He looked up at Martin. “Can that book help us find the Amulet, Sire?”

“Fortunately I know a few ways to protect myself from its corrupting influence,” Martin mused, resting an elbow on the table and rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Still, I will need to be very careful -” his voice trailed off, his eyes on the daedric volume in front of him. He hadn’t touched the book once he had laid it on the table. His hazel eyes lifted to mine. “Julian, you have no idea -” He straightened his spine. “Well, I don’t know, Jauffre,” he said firmly. “But Julian, you will have to tell us how you happened to come by such a powerful book.”

My stomach growled before I could respond. Will you shut up for once? This is important stuff. Learn patience!

“It is past the dinner hour,” Jauffre clapped my shoulder, his fingers steadying me when I almost flopped face first into the table. “But I believe there is still some hot food in the dining hall. Let us retire there so Julian can eat something and warm up while she regales us with tales of her adventures.”

Shooting him a startled glance, I only saw neutral curiosity in the Grandmaster’s face. Martin slapped his hands firmly on the table, rising to his feet. “Excellent idea, Jauffre,” he agreed. “I’m a little hungry for a midnight snack, myself.”

“No, Julian,” Jauffre shook his head at me when I reached for my gear. “Leave it, for now. Come on, I want to hear your report.”

Baurus grinned at me as I passed him, following Jauffre and Martin to the east wing. Inside the dining hall, Captain Steffan looked up from his own plate as we entered. He made to leave, but Jauffre stopped him.

“You may as well hear Julian’s report,” he said to the tall Blade. “She’s traveled far today, and has brought back something of immense value.”

The Captain’s expression brightened. “The Amulet?” he asked. Like the others, his face fell when he was told no. Jauffre steered me to sit across from the Imperial, then moved to the sideboard, where he heaped food onto a plate. Martin sat down at the end of the table, Baurus taking up position behind him.

Jauffre set the laden plate, this time containing warm bread, sliced roast boar and aged yellow cheese in front of me, and took the chair next to Steffan. The Grandmaster filled a cup from the teapot in the center of the table.

“Now, let’s hear it,” he ordered. “Start with when Baurus left you in the Imperial City.” He tapped the table next to the plate. “But don’t forget to eat.”

Between bites of the grub, I described the key hidden in the Commentaries. How I determined the location of the shrine. The decision to infiltrate the Mythic Dawn as an initiate. The discovery of Jeelius on the sacrificial altar. The theft of the bone-colored book. Our heart-pounding battle through the cavern system.

“After we got out of those caverns, we went back to Cheydinhal, spent the night there, and left this morning,” I finished, drinking the last of the tea. “Jeelius and I separated at Fort Urasek, he went to swim across the lake, and I came straight here.”

“Who is this Jeelius?” Jauffre asked warily.

“I know of him,” Baurus spoke from his place behind Martin. “He is a priest at the Temple of the One. A kind man, especially to the poor and the beggars.” As I snagged an apple from the platter in the center of the table, I nodded agreement.

Steffan caught my gaze. “Something is bothering me,” he remarked. “They recognized you? If so, why did they let you so far in?”

Thinking back on yesterday’s events, I shook my head. “I don’t think the acolytes or guards recognized me,” I responded slowly. “But the Warden - Harrow, may have. He made me cover my head before we went in there. Then he exposed me in front of Ruma.”

“It’s possible,” Jauffre spoke, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, “that only the upper levels knew of Julian’s involvement in the Gate at Kvatch.” He glanced from Baurus to me. “Did you happen to leave any of the Mythic Dawn agents you found alive?”

“No, sir,” Baurus responded for both of us. “Julian even made certain the ones she engaged were good and dead.”

“That said,” I met Jauffre’s gaze, “it’s still possible for one to witness our activities from the shadows.” I shrugged. “Some of those acolytes in the caverns didn’t face us, only ran. Such people would have reported events to their superiors.”

“If there are any left,” Steffan responded, his gaze on his mug of tea. “Raven and Ruma Camoran are dead, so is the Warden. Is there anyone else left?”

“Mankar Camoran,” Martin responded into the silence. “From what Julian described, he may not be back for a while, until his own preparations are complete.”

“But we don’t know how long he’ll be gone,” Jauffre added.

A short chapter indeed, at only one post. But it does exactly what you said, returning Julian to Cloud Ruler Temple and bringing the rest of the Scooby Gang up to date on her goings on. Once again our favorite Redguard is eating well I see. Roast boar, apples, no polenta there! Jauffre sets a good table when he is not busy putting heads on pikes.

By the time we reached the road leading from Bruma to Cloud Ruler Temple
This first line catches my eye most of any other. The reason is the "we", which you use to describe Julian and Paint. Most writers would have made that singular, but you have made Paint so much a character, rather than a conveyance, that he does indeed merit the "we".

Short but it brought things into position for the next section without seeming to be doing so. It flowed well in the story and had the feel of character building (which it was) rather than filler (which you seem most adept at avoiding). And she didn't recognise the Mysterium Xarxes which I suppose I did notice in the last part but failed to pay heed to. More improving on the game world with her having to be told things.

Only one thing rang a little strange for me:

It is not far from common knowledge though, with Romalen knowing and other strangers recognising her for shutting the gate it seems odd that it would be restricted to the upper levels there. But I suppose the novices might not get out or hear much...

So the book that Julian recovered is the notorious Mysterium Xarxes? Cool! One thing that I don't get is why, if you are the Daedric Prince of destruction, would you write a set of instructions for building a portal to Paradise?

There was something about the attitude of all the Blades, and even Martin to a lesser extent, that made me feel sorry for Julian. Think about it, she carries the Amulet of Kings safely to Jauffre. He promptly looses it while she is literally fighting her way through Oblivion itself to rescue the last Septim heir. She sees that heir safely to Cloud Ruler Temple where she is made into a Blade in order to clean up Jauffre’s mess. She goes back to the Imperial City and deciphers the clues leading her to the secret headquarters of the Mythic Dawn. She infiltrates that hideout, rescues a priest of the Temple of the One, and fights her way clear with the Mysterium Xarxes without any backup or help from her fellow Blades, and all they can say upon her return is ‘Where is the Amulet of Kings?’ I, for one, would be willing to excuse Julian if all she wanted to do was tell them all to 'go #@%& yourselves, take your wild boar and shove it up your @#&!'

Love the new avatar! I expected something ‘horse related’ from you, but I like this.

@SubRosa: When I'm horseback riding, I literally put my trust in the horse under me. Most horses will live up to that trust. That is the one amazing thing about these creatures. I'm glad that you've noticed Julian regards Paint as her partner in her travels. The Scooby Gang, indeed!

@Olen: I've always felt that fanatic leaders are very selective regarding what their fanatic followers know about. With everything necessary being provided by the Master, why should a novice head outside a cold, damp cave?

@Destri: Jauffre is a bit single minded, isn't he? Your rant made me laugh. I don't think it bothers Julian as much as it bothers you. After all, she's accustomed to the bumblings of higher-ups from her years in the Legion. As for my new avatar, the ouroboros and the yin-yang symbols are two of my favorite symbols through the years. I first learned of the ouroboros in Organic Chemistry, of all places. It's the one thing I remember well (along with the boat and chair) from that class! But I can post something equine if you prefer!

Now starts Chapter Ten, and Julian's first visit to Bruma. mALX, her first encounter with a Mythic Dawn agent is in this chapter, so stay tuned!

****************
Chapter 10.1 What is a Spy?

Again, I met the sunrise on the plaza, next to the western brazier. Fortis and Pelagius were already on the practice sands. As Cyrus watched in silent approval, I moved through the Way of the Crane that Jelin had taught - no, pounded into me - all those years ago. Pleased that the movements felt less awkward, I noticed that my knee didn’t hamper them as much.

“Much better this morning, Julian,” Cyrus greeted me as I walked up to the Hall doors.

“Good morning, Cyrus,” I answered. “Felt better too,” I added. “Though that brazier felt good starting out.”

“The movements help get you warm, though,” Cyrus observed. He nodded at the lightweight green shirt I wore. “Go see Jena,” he suggested. “She may have something more suitable for this cold weather than that.”

Cyrus was right, Jena did have something more appropriate for the high Jeralls. While I ate breakfast, she brought me a long-sleeved woolen blouse with a quilted doublet, and a heavy dark green flannel skirt. Since we were the only ones in the dining hall at the moment, she helped me try them on.

The flannel skirt was heavier and bulkier than the light tan skirt I had worn in the Imperial City, and tangled around my ankles more readily. Jena instructed me how to kick the skirt out of the way as I walked, so I wouldn’t trip on them. Swishing the heavy fabric thoughtfully around my legs, I looked up at Jena. “I haven’t worn skirts in such a long time, and certainly not long and heavy ones like this.”

“I’m certain not since you started soldiering, Julian,” Jena responded, adjusting the doublet on my shoulders. “Oh, but I think this outfit suits you rather well. It’s perfect if you don’t want people to mistake you for a Blade.”

“Thanks, Jena,” I responded, smiling at her. “I appreciate the help.” Just then, Jauffre entered the dining hall, halting as his gaze fell on us. Jena and I exchanged amused glances, then I walked up to the Grandmaster, stifling a giggle at the look on his face. Enough. I’m too old for that girly stuff. “Good morning, Grandmaster,” I said when I stopped in front of him. “Jena thinks I won’t be mistaken as a Blade in this.”

“Ahem,” Jauffre cleared his throat. “It would seem so,” he remarked. Giving me one last look up and down, he met my gaze. “I’ve got a new task for you, if you’re ready.”

“What is it, sir?” I asked as Jauffre moved to the sideboard and started gathering victuals for his breakfast. Pouring him a cup of klah, I sat down across from him when he took his seat.

“The gate guards have reported seeing strangers on the road for the past several nights.” He looked pointedly at me. “I cannot leave Cloud Ruler Temple undefended while I have men combing the mountainside for these spies, but they must be eliminated.”

“If they are spies, sir,” I countered cautiously.

“Aye, if they are spies,” Jauffre agreed impatiently. “Talk to Captain Steffan, he can tell you where he has seen them. Also, Captain Burd of the City Guard in Bruma may be able to help. I’ve asked the Countess to have the guard keep an eye out for strangers.” His eyes hardened. “Track down these spies,” he held up his hand when I opened my mouth in protest, “if indeed they are spies. Find out what they know, and what they are planning, if possible.”

Torture? I thought to myself. During my years in the Legion, I had seen enough torture to know the techniques, but I had never participated in such matters myself. One gets more flies with honey than with crap. Persuasion, maybe. I knew a thing or two about persuasion. “If they are spies, Grandmaster,” I said quietly. Looking down at my new clothes, I caught his gaze.

“Should I go as a Blade, or as an agent, sir?” I wanted to know.

“This isn’t strictly undercover work,” he responded. “But the fewer that know you’re one of us, the better.”

“All right, sir,” I said, thinking of my storage chest in the armory. “I’ve got a few items that I’d like to sell in town. I’ll ask around and see what I find out.”

“I’m counting on you to find those spies,” Jauffre’s tone remained implacable. “We can’t afford to have the Mythic Dawn operate out of Bruma with impunity.”

I had to agree. “No, sir, we can’t.”

Jauffre’s expression became worried, as he finished the last bite of his breakfast. “I hope Emperor Martin knows what he is doing with that evil book,” he muttered. “I fear what it can do to him if he’s not careful.”

“The Mysterium Xarxes?” I answered. “Somehow, I think he’s well-equipped to handle it, sir. Not too much knowledge to be over-confident, but just enough to understand the precautions he needs to take.”

“Yes, but I think he is pushing himself too hard,” Jauffre responded, his tone still concerned. “He’s barely slept or eaten since Baurus returned from the Imperial City. All he’s done is study, study, study.”

“He does have a lot to learn, sir, if he is to be Emperor,” I commented. “Haven’t you tried getting him to stop and take a break?”

“Hmmph,” Jauffre scoffed wordlessly. “Me order the Emperor to eat or sleep? Rather like you telling the sun to stop coming up in the morning.”

“But the sun goes down every night,” I responded. “Why would I want to tell it to stop coming up?”

Jauffre stared at me incredulously. “Julian, you are proving more and more to be well-named,” he finally said with a short laugh. “Look, your arrival got him to eat something last night. If you can get him to do it again, and even sleep a bit, I would be much grateful to you.”

************
Captain Steffan was out on his patrol of the walls when I found him. “Captain Steffan, sir, may I have a moment of your time?” I asked, falling into step beside him. Once he got over his initial surprise at my feminine garb, he nodded. “Jauffre told me you saw some strangers on the road?”

“Jauffre thinks they may be spies,” Steffan responded neutrally. “We always see them near the runestone at dusk.” He shook his head in disgust. “They aren’t very woodscrafty, but Grandmaster Jauffre has forbidden us to range too far from these walls.”

“Those are my orders, sir,” I responded. “I’m to find those strangers and see what they are up to.” Looking over the edge of the wall, I caught my breath at the vista spread out below. “Can you show me the runestone?”

We reached the easternmost of the two watchtowers overlooking the gate and the road below. The Blade standing watch, one I had not yet met, turned at our approach and nodded at Steffan. The Captain led me to the front parapet and pointed down at the curve in the road where it turned south. Only by squinting could I just barely make out the rough shape of the menhir, surrounded by smaller standing stones. The whole complex stood on a small hillock just west of the bend in the road. “You can see that?” I exclaimed softly.

“Actually,” Steffan jerked a thumb at the Blade standing next to us. “Achille can. He’s got eyes like a hawk.” Achille smiled briefly at us when we left the watchtower, returning to his scanning of the vista below.

As Steffan and I walked back to the plaza, I glanced at the tall Imperial next to me. “What do you know of Captain Burd, sir?”

“Captain Burd?” Steffan repeated. “He’s ex-Legion, like you,” he continued after a moment, stopping near the practice sands to watch Fortis and Pelagius. “Nord through and through, but gets along all right with the southerners in town.” He glanced sidelong at me. “Something you need to know about Bruma,” he added. “Many of the Nords there are Skyrim born and bred, and don’t hold well with Chapel teachings and Nibenese habits. There’s always an undercurrent of tension there. Things look pretty peaceful on the surface, and I think it’s because Burd works hard to keep it that way.”

“Not all of them feel the way he does, then?” I asked quietly, remembering the Nords of Skyrim. Steffan shook his head. “Well, sir, I was posted for a few years in Skyrim. Learned how to stay out of trouble there, sir.”

“Not easy for a Redguard,” Steffan agreed. He spoke true, I knew. Redguards and Nords have been fighting over territory on the borders between Skyrim and Hammerfell. Not always the best of friends. Now he turned to face me. “I know you’re pretty capable, Julian, so don’t be offended when I say be careful. If those strangers are spies, they may try to kill you.”

“I’m not offended, sir,” I answered, matching his serious tone. “And yes, I’ll be careful. I haven’t lasted as long as I have in the Legion by being careless, sir.”

Julian is still improving I see, moving more easily through her Crane kata, and not being bothered as much by her knee. I half expect her to get some magical implants to replace her bad parts, giving her super-heroic abilities. The Six Million Septim Woman!

Enough. I’m too old for that girly stuff.
Never!

Achille can.
I hear that guy is a heel... Sorry, could not resist!


nits:
One gets more flies with honey than with crap.
You might try vinegar. Flies are attracted to feces, their larvae eat it.

I am limping along like Julian as I try to catch up. Just reached the part with Mankar and the Dagon shrine. The battle where Julian and her Argonian friend had to fight their way out was as exciting as I knew it would be. I held my breath during that intense scene and didn't release it for minutes afterward. Wow !!!

So cool to see the Adrenaline Rush used during that scene. Everytime I play a Nord or Imperial fighter I find myself looking for the Rush spell and not finding it. Lol.

Time to keep reading....... Awesome write.

Oh, and you have an Avatar. Wow!!!

So she's dressing all effeminate now and the bad knee is receeding (which is fine but I'm sure healing spells can't be good for you in the longrun). I can imagine she'll regret the long skirt when it comes to fighting.

I like that a lot of the dialogue happens with day-to-day stuff going on in the background, it brings cloud ruler to life and makes it seem more realistic and belieavable.

After your descriptons of the other cities I'm looking forward to Bruma.


That's him told.

And nice avatar, though exactly where the ouroboros appeared in chemistry I can't quite imagine.