* Lightning struck Foxy after typing this message *

@mALX: There were things I didn’t notice when I played this quest through the first time. There’s no question that Julian is sharper than I am! Your comments about Deep Throat, LL, etc cracked me up! It's obvious you've watched more porn than I have!

@hazmick: We’ll see if she believes the right guy . . .

@trey: I think Seridur is as creepy as Umbacano, and just as arrogant.

@Olen: The drapery are not present in the ‘nilla Oblivion, but I added that in to start Julian’s danger sense tingling. As for getting the dialogue word for word, well - let’s just say that I’m a professional student and a pro at taking notes! I know, that was a redundant statement.

@SubRosa: Well, there has to come a time when Julian says no! I just haven’t figured out when just yet. We’ll see!

@Acadian: Julian doesn’t quite see herself as a vampire hunter. She’ll meet Count Skingrad at some point in the future, notice certain things about him, and shrug her shoulders. But she seems unable to let people who maliciously harm innocent folks get off without handing them some kind of serious hurt. We saw that with gro-Dragol, and we will see it with others as well.

@D.Foxy: Thou dost protest too much!

Julian fights the temptation to get sidetracked again, but is unable to resist investigating the latest plea for help.

****************
Chapter 14.7 Investigating Roland Jenseric

I headed behind Seridur’s house to look at the garden he spoke of. Tall walls of several houses backed onto it, making it more of an overgrown alley than a real garden. I couldn’t see any sign of a murder. Limping through the riot of vegetation, I encountered one of the Watchmen making his rounds.

“Excuse me, sir,” I spoke when he met my gaze in passing. He paused and looked at me up and down.

“What can I do for you, Hero of Kvatch?” he responded, his grey eyes glinting in the bright sunlight. I shook my head at his greeting.

“Please, call me Julian, sir,” I said, putting a slight pleading note in my voice. I was getting pretty tired of this hero stuff. “I’m no hero, just an old, broken-down soldier looking for a new reason to live.”

Beneath his steel helm, the Watchman’s teeth gleamed in a grin. “I hear you, Julian,” he answered, his voice warming. “Please, how may I help you?”

“Do you know anything about a young woman murdered here,” I waved behind me, “in this garden?”

He frowned. “Aye, happened last week,” he said. His eyes flickered. “An Altmer named Seridur claimed he saw a fellow resident - ah - Roland Jenseric, attack the young lady. Killed her.”

“Any wounds on her body?” I asked.

His lips tightened. “I’m not at liberty to say,” he said grimly. That’s answer enough for me. I nodded in understanding.

“Have you seen this Jenseric since then?”

The Watchman shook his head. “No, no one’s seen him. The Watch Captain wants him for questioning.”

“It’s terrible, isn’t it?” I asked him. “Crime seems to be everywhere, in spite of our best efforts to contain it. And I just bought a house myself.”

“Really?” the Watchman asked. “Where?”

“Down in the Waterfront,” I answered. “I didn’t know there was a pirate ship, and pickpockets living there, but it was cheap!”

He smiled crookedly at me. “That’s why it’s cheap,” he answered. “Here in the Temple District you can find some of the more expensive houses.” His eyes roamed over the surrounding buildings before coming back to rest on mine. “Of course, the ones in Talos Plaza are even more so.”

“Oh, I doubt I’d ever live there,” I commented. “Thank you for your help, sir, if I may have your name?”

“Claudio Forenze,” the grey eyes crinkled at me. “And you’re welcome, Julian.” He nodded at me before walking away, continuing his rounds. I walked up to the main avenue running through the District, and turned back to follow along the fronts of the houses there. A Khajiit stepped out of one of the houses as I drew near, and turned to greet me.

“Hello, Julian,” he purred. “I’m J’mhad. I’ve hearrd so much about you frrom Jeelius.”

“Ah,” I responded. “You are a friend of his, then?”

He nodded humbly. “Jeelius is a kind soul,” his voice rumbled softly. “We werre so afrraid for him when he disappearred. How grreat was ourr rrejoicing when he rreturrned!”

I smiled. “I’m glad to have him return safely to you.” I looked up and down the avenue. “I’m looking for Roland Jenseric’s house, do you know where it is?”

“Ah, rright next doorr to mine!” J’mhad indicated the house next door, nearest the Temple. He went to the door and knocked on it before I could stop him. “But he’s not home, it seems,” he said sadly.

“How well do you know him?” I asked J’mhad.

“Not well,” he answered. “J’mhad sees him seldom. He’s a quiet one, Jenserric, but polite enough the few times J’mhad has met him.”

“Caused you no trouble?” I reached to stop J’mhad from trying the door handle. To my relief, it turned out to be locked. I wasn’t sure I was ready to venture into that house just yet.

“Nay, not at all,” J’mhad answered. “J’mhad is sorrry he is not home forr yourr sake,” he turned to me. “J’mhad will watch forr him, tell him you’rre looking forr him, no?”

“No, no,” I hastily spoke, shaking my head. “No, if you see him, I’d rather you told me.”

“Ah, yes,” J’mhad nodded furiously. “J’mhad will do so!”

“Thanks, J’mhad,” I stifled a sigh of relief. “Now I must go home. I’ll see you around, J’mhad.”

“Good day, Julian!” J’mhad waved at me and strode off for the Temple. I limped behind him, more slowly, my thoughts running one over the other.

**********************
Several hours later, I returned to the Temple District. I had spent the afternoon in my humble house studying the alchemy tomes I had collected. Now, in the dark hour between sunset and moonrise, I found myself standing across the street from Roland Jenseric’s home again, studying the building thoughtfully. Though I had put the meeting with Seridur out of my mind earlier, the sense that something was wrong still bothered me.

The sun had set while I was in the Waterfront, and the glow of the rising double moons brightened the eastern sky. Studying the dark windows of Jenseric’s house, I realized they were uncovered. A memory of tapestried embrasures in a soot-filled house surfaced in my mind as I regarded the east facade.

Booted footsteps drew my attention from the house across the avenue. “Good evening, ma’am,” a familiar voice greeted me. I looked down to see the Legion Watchman standing a meter or so away.

“Forenze?” I dug up his name from memory, matched it to his grey eyes. He smiled, apparently pleased that I had remembered him.

“Aye,” he admitted, turning his helmed head to look at the houses across the way. “Still interested in that murder, ma’am?”

“Hmm,” I responded noncommittally. “I’ve been asked to look for this Roland Jenseric. Has anyone seen any sign of him yet?”

“Nay,” Forenze shook his head. “He’s not been back since then.” He turned and looked at me, his eyes turning silver in the moonlight now peeking over the rooftops behind me. “Who asked you to look for him?”

“The Altmer named Seridur,” I answered. “He tells me he saw Jenseric kill the lady.” I caught the thinning of Forenze’s lips beneath his steel helm. “Problem is,” I continued, “Seridur doesn’t sit right with me. I wish I could put my finger on it -”

“Anything to do with him being a snooty Altmer?” Forenze asked neutrally. It was my turn to shake my head.

“I’ve met plenty of Altmer that I wouldn’t call snooty,” I answered. “Proud, maybe, but not necessarily snooty. No, that’s not it.” I shrugged. “It’s more an individual thing, not a racial thing.” I looked up at Jenseric’s house again. “I find it hard to accept Seridur’s claim that Jenseric is a vampire.”

Forenze’s sudden stillness drew my attention back to him. He faced me now, his posture tense, his face unreadable in the shadows of his helmet. The steel breastplate lifted slowly as he inhaled deeply. “I never saw you lingering outside Jenseric’s house,” he said cryptically. “Ma’am.” He turned and walked away, down the street, without another word.

Huh? Does Forenze not believe Jenseric is a vampire? I watched Forenze’s departing back dwindle down the curving avenue, and realized that he was the only Watchman patrolling this part of the District. Ah, time to pick the lock. He’s not going to report me, because he wants me to find the truth as badly as I do.

After I checked for people on the empty avenue in both directions, I moved across the pavement to the door. With a final glance around, I drew out a couple of lockpicks and tickled the lock into submission. Entering the house, I closed the door softly behind me before assessing my surroundings. The ground floor was empty of life. Moonlight, by now peeking over the high city walls, cascaded in through the uncovered windows at the front of the open main floor, casting enough light for my night vision to see by.

I moved to the stairs and ascended them softly, placing each foot carefully on the next stone step before putting my weight down. Upstairs, the bedroom was as well lit by moonlight as the main floor. The house was cool, quiet. The bed had not been slept in, I noticed. I also saw the open drawers tucked between the tall windows. A quick search revealed no clues, only that clothes had been removed.

He left in a hurry. Why? Back on the main floor, I found a book on the table. A folded parchment fluttered to the floor when I picked up the book. After I replaced the volume back on the table, I plucked the parchment off the floor and moved to one of the windows, where the moonlight was strongest. I puzzled out the feminine handwriting:

My dearest Roland,

I cannot wait for you to return from Bravil. My heart swells with joy as I know we will once again soon be together. I yearn for you every night that I look beside me in my bed, and you are not there. How I wish I could have taken the journey with you, but I understand that these are dangerous times, and I would only slow you down. When you return, perhaps we should get away from the chaos of the Imperial City. Let's go back to that cabin in the woods. The one where you said we would always be safe from the world. The one where you took me in your arms and sang songs of moonlight and happiness. The one where you said "I love you."

Hurry, my love,

Relfina

Thoughtfully I returned the parchment to its resting place on top of the book. He’s at his cabin, I bet. Where is it?

A more thorough search of the home, including the basement, revealed little further information. However, in a desk on the main floor, I found a deed to property described as being three kilometers north of the Blue Road, in the forest that blanketed the foothills of the Jeralls.

That overgrown gate on the north side of the road, I mused to myself, dredging up the memory of my ride to Cheydinhal, back when I was on the trail of the Mythic Dawn. I wonder if that leads to Jenseric’s cabin? Making my decision, I put everything back the way I had found it, then headed to the door. I would check that path, once I delivered Sheogorath’s Staff to Martin.

Oooh, you have really made this quest personalized!!! I love what you are doing with it! This is one quest I always do (to build up my cash, lol.) - I just found out the oddest thing about it on the WIKI - if you do this quest as a vampire NO ONE REALIZES IT !!!! Not Seridur, nor the other vampire hunters, lol. I thought that was hilarious!


PS: I categorically deny ever watching porn! Er...can you define...er...never mind. Lol, truthfully, I met her because she was "dating" my married boss and would come see him at the office. His wife found out and all H broke out. They got divorced, my boss became some kind of cult hero to the guys at work though.

You capture the oppressive atmosphere of Seridur’s “garden” quite effectively in just a few words. The conversation with Claudio really “sang” to me- I got the sense he was testing Julian just a bit with the “Hero of Kvatch” title. When she responded in her typical, level-headed way- he decided she was a “member of the club.” Old soldiers who have “seen the elephant” tend to know how to recognize one another- and how to spot fakers, too.

And the meeting with J’mhad is well-done, too- showing that choices have consequences. In this case, a good result because Julian fought so hard to keep Jeelius alive. Again, this has the ring of authenticity- the underclass (Khajiit and Argonians in this case) have a superb communication network because they have to. Imagine how easy it would be for someone to start a rumor that the “beast-folk” were behind Uriel’s death- and imagine what would happen if that rumor took root.

Good observation by Julian that Roland (the supposed vampire) has uncurtained, east-facing windows. Now she just has to put it together.

This installment has a wonderful sense of slowly-building tension, as Julian’s spider-sense keeps telling her things are not as they appear. And she is wise enough to listen, though she does not yet know what is wrong with this picture.



“Has anyone…” I believe.



A preference, perhaps, but I see “everything” as singular, versus “things” being plural. “I put everything back the way I had found it…”

Poor Julian, found out as the Hero of Kvatch once more. Julian's first conversation with Claudio went a long way to setting up her second encounter with him at night. His reaction felt very natural. I can easily see why he would be happy for someone he could trust (like someone with a reputation of heroism in Colovia) to dig up more, even if it was technically illegal.

Likewise, using J’mhad as a friend of Jeelius was an excellent bit of plotting. Once more we see how Julian's past actions have given her friends she never knew she had, smoothing her way in the present.

Finally we see Julian's memory of the path off the Blue Road jogged. I noted that when it appeared the first time, and have been wondering if you were going to do anything with it or not. Nice advance set up for this chapter.

BOLD: - ARGH !!!!!

Should specify- not my opinion, but more an amalgam of SubRosa's TF world and playing so much Morrowind lately. (Slavery, anyone?) I do not know if the class-system is quite as stark in haute's fictional Tamriel.

good chapter, once again. It's good to see Julian piecing everything together, it's CSI:Tamriel.

I'm getting quite swept up in this! It's delightful! I love the methodical manner in which Julian is investigating. Ah, the old soldier professionally conducting her JAG investigation. Lots to love.


Beautifully done, with the ring of truth. I loved that you gave the watchman a name. And I was gratified to see the small investment in a relationship pay off for Julian as the guard walked away so Julian could do her business.


I see the rules of real estate pertain, even in Cyrodiil - location, loction, location.


Julian! You go, girl!


This wonderful passge quite tickled my fancy.


Just a gem of a great description - fluttered to the floor.

I think I've said it before but I'll say it again anyway - the way you work previous events into the story is brilliant and gives it a sense of continuity as well as cause and effect. It's good to see rescueing Jeelius again helped Julian and again made itself known.

Claudio was a good character too, after just one section what we know of him is rounded and suggests there's a lot more unrevealed (quite a feat, especially if the rest of him is an illusion). I suspect we may see him again after this quest. Certainly using his first conversation to build a trust between them made his decision to look the other way very natural.

All this question about drapes (and cleverly done there) has me thinking - would sunlight burn a vampire through a window, certainly it's impossible to get sunburnt though one (unless it's made of fused silica which seems rather unlikely in TES). Still I'm sure 'it's magic' more than suffices here.

I always enjoyed killing Seridur...... slowly....... really slowly...

@mALX: I knew that about the Brotherhood. Vampire hunters, huh?

@Trey: I’m glad you liked Claudio - he is my favorite of the Watchmen. He’s the one that should be Captain of the Watch, not that fop H. Lex! Thanks for your nits. I’ve fixed them.

@SubRosa: Eventually Julian will accept ‘Hero of Kvatch’ or be called worse. Yikes! Thanks for the compliments on plotting - IMHO it’s one of my weakest points.

@hazmick: CSI:Tamriel? CSI?? I’ve always regarded Julian as more like Brenda Leigh Johnson in The Closer. *Adopts Southern accent* Thank you.

@Acadian: JAG, too? B- But he’s Navy!! All right, technically, my family’s had guys in the Navy (Dad was a Seabee, one uncle was Navy swabbie, another uncle was Marine), but hey, Julian’s Legion, for Akatosh’s sake! I’m glad you enjoyed the brief interaction between Julian and Forenze.

@Olen: well, in all the vampire movies I’ve seen, the windows have all been covered, so I suppose vampires are as sensitive to visible-to-infrared wavelengths as to UV. After all, fire is just as destructive for a vampire as sunlight. Windows block only UV, which causes sunburn in normal humans.

@Remko: Seridur does deserve a slow death, doesn’t he?

Julian returns the Staff, and has an unexpected conversation. Don’t worry, the Brotherhood quest will be completed. Eventually.

*******************
Chapter 14.7 Return to Bravil

The next day, back in Bravil, I found Vamori pacing restlessly outside the Mages Guild, muttering to himself and pulling on his lower lip. He looked up as I approached, his gaze hesitating on the Mage’s Staff at my back. His face lit up as I stopped in front of him.

“You got it back!” he exclaimed.

“Of course I got it back,” I replied. “Have you apologized to Ardaline yet?” The young Dunmer’s face fell.

“No,” his voice was small again. “I can’t think of the words to say.”

“Just say, ‘I’m sorry, Ardaline, for taking your Staff.’” I answered. “There are times when simple is best.” I gripped his shoulder with my sword hand, turning him towards the front door of the Mages Guild. “Let’s go together.”

Vamori did not resist my urging, but slumped up the steps to the door. We entered the Guild together, then I nudged him forward toward Ardaline’s alchemy room at the back of the building. “Some things you have to do on your own,” I said, spotting Kud-Ei seated at the reading nook. She looked up as I unslung the Staff. I lifted it up for her to see, catching the smile on her face. With another nudge, I handed Vamori the Staff. “After causing all this trouble, you may as well give the Staff back yourself.”

The polished wood clutched in pale grey knuckles, Vamori walked slowly towards the Alchemy room, its double doors wide open. Beyond, I could see Ardaline, her back to the doorway, hard at work at a calcinator. As I watched, Kud-Ei rose and glided over to me.

“I ssee you recovered the Sstaff,” she whispered, turning to watch Vamori’s progress with me. “I will not assk how you obtained it.”

I fished out the small pouch she had given me. “Here, I never had to use this,” I dropped it into her palm. Kud-Ei shot me a sharp glance, but said nothing. After a moment, she turned back to the scene unfolding in the other room.

Through the open doorway, we watched as Vamori stopped beside the counter, opposite Ardaline. He cleared his throat a little too loudly. The young Altmer carefully lowered her beaker and turned around. We saw the surprise on her face as Vamori thrust the Staff towards her, muttering something we could not quite hear.

“My Staff!” Ardaline was around the counter in a flash, taking the long wooden object and caressing it. I bit my lip at the sudden thought that Vamori was probably wishing he was the Staff in that moment. Then the tall Altmer leaned down to throw her arms around Vamori’s shoulders. “Oh, thank you, thank you!” she was saying. The Dunmer hesitated, then put his hands stiffly on her shoulders and patted her awkwardly.

I heard Kud-Ei’s slow inhalation. “Easy, ma’am,” I whispered to her. “He’s more tongue-tied than she is right now.”

“Hmm,” was Kud-Ei’s noncommittal response.

Then Ardaline drew back from Vamori’s clumsy embrace, raised her right hand, and slapped him, hard. Kud-Ei jumped at the sound of flesh hitting flesh. I stifled a smile as Vamori staggered back, clapping his hand to his cheek. “That’s for stealing it from me, you fool!” Ardaline scolded him. To his credit, the Dunmer hung his head and took it without protest. “All the trouble you’ve caused me! All the nights I couldn’t sleep worrying about it!” Ardaline thumped her Staff on the floorboards for emphasis, its power flaring slightly along its length.

Vamori kept his eyes on the floor, twisting his right foot around its big toe, and mumbled something. All I could hear was his voice cracking. His face turned purple with shame. Ardaline calmed down, her eyes resuming their normal placid beauty. “All right,” her voice was barely audible, “I forgive you.”

“Well,” Kud-Ei exhaled slowly. “It seems you have accomplished much more than I expected, Associate.”

“It would seem that years of training recruits does come in useful from time to time, ma’am,” I remarked.

Kud-Ei chuckled voicelessly. “You have your recommendation, Associate,” she said quietly, turning away from the little tête-à-tête.

***************
As I stepped out into the sunlight, warm for the cool Hearthfire day, a woman’s voice called to me from Canal Street. My eyes fell on the lean form of Captain Lerus walking toward me. A gesture of her sword hand beckoned me to join her.

I fell into step beside her, limping toward the Quivering Bridge over the canal. Lerus said nothing at first, and I remained silent when I sensed the pensive air to her stride. The breeze in our faces was cool against my sun-warmed skin. The leaves on the aesculus trees on the banks and the betula trees along the canal were still green, but the southward slant of the noon sun clearly indicated autumn had arrived.

The captain stopped in the center of the Quivering Bridge, turning east to look over the canal toward the docks below. She rested her hands on the rough cable handrail as I stood beside her.

“Do you intend to stay in Bravil long, Julian?” she asked quietly. The carefully neutral tone of her question spurred me to glance at her face, but Lerus kept her eyes on the deep green water below.

“I only returned to finish up some business with the Mages’ Guild, ma’am” I answered. “I need to head out tomorrow.”

Lerus was silent for a few moments longer. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, Julian,” she seemed to arrive at some decision. “Count Terentius is very upset with you, and is threatening to call on the Dark Brotherhood.” Her eyes lifted to the stone walls of the castle beyond. “Only the fact that you closed that Oblivion Gate outside of town has kept him from following through on his threats. That,” she added after a moment’s thought, “along with the matter of your status with the Mages’ Guild.”

“What?” I’ve never met the Count. What did I do to get into his bad graces?

“He was none too pleased when I reported gro-Dragol’s - passing to him, as well as the closing down of the Hunter’s Run.” Lerus did not look at me. “I get the feeling that gro-Dragol has been paying the Count a portion of his profits.”

Is that why Lerus didn’t drag gro-Dragol off for questioning when Loche disappeared? That had been a small detail, which I had initially considered of no consequence, but had been bothering me more and more lately. It just didn’t seem to fit in with the competent image of Lerus I had developed over time. “Do you have any proof of that, Captain?” Now I understood why we had stopped in the middle of the Quivering Bridge. As long as we spoke quietly, no one on the banks could overhear us. Sneaking up on us would be impossible given the nature of the aptly-named bridge.

Lerus shook her head emphatically. “The Count is just a little too clever for that.” Her eyes shifted to the left bank of the canal.

“If the Count is getting a share of gro-Dragol’s profits, where are they going, ma’am?” I looked around at the shabby board-and-batten construction of the buildings around the canal. I considered the rope suspension bridges common here, unlike the more sturdy timber spans of Cheydinhal and the strong stone structures in the Imperial City, Kvatch, and Skingrad. Despite its ideal location on the Niben Bay, Bravil was easily the poorest county seat I had seen so far.

“How much do you remember of your erstwhile companions in the skooma den?” Lerus countered. I realized the direction of her gaze. Though not visible from our vantage point thanks to the dockside buildings between the canal bank and the rickety structure on the corner of Canal Street and Gate Way, there was no question what Lerus was looking at.

“Not much, ma’am,” I thought for a moment. “I remember a Khajiit named R’vanni, and a big Nord -” aren’t all Nords big anyway? “- called Something the Rotted.”

“Reistr the Rotted,” Lerus nodded to herself. “Anyone else?”

“There were others, ma’am” I admitted, “but I never bothered to learn names in that place. I don’t think any of us cared to.” I gazed down the canal toward the castle, searching skooma-fogged memories for faces that never quite solidified into reality. My eyes fastened on a richly-dressed figure crossing the castle bridge toward the town. His green velvet, trimmed with gold brocade, struck a chord. “Him I remember showing up every now and then,” I said suddenly, indicating him with my chin.

Lerus followed my gaze. “Ah, Gellius Terentius,” she commented. “In the skooma den?” Somehow the question held no surprise.

On the other hand, I was surprised. “The Count’s son? That’s the Count’s son?”

Lerus turned and started toward the north bank. “Yes, Gellius Terentius, the apple of the Count’s eye.” She led me to the junction of Mara and Canal Streets, stopping near the crumbling stone planter that marked the intersection. We watched the green-dressed figure, gold brocade resplendent in the sun, head for the rickety flight of stairs leading up to the top floor of Carandial’s building at the far end of Canal Street. Without hesitation, the young man sprang up the creaky steps and disappeared through the garret door.

Lerus remained beside the planter, not speaking. A few moments later, her patience was rewarded by the reappearance of Gellius Terentius carrying a silk-wrapped bundle in his right hand. Whistling reached us on the breeze as he made his way back to the cobblestones of Canal Street and walked east, toward the castle bridge. When he disappeared from sight, Lerus walked to the Mages’ Guild steps, stopping with downcast eyes at the bottom of the stoop. “What do you think he could be carrying?”

I met her gaze levelly. “Place like that? Only one thing, ma’am.” A sudden thought occurred to me. “Is it just the son, or is the Count addicted too?”

Lerus shrugged. “All I know for certain is that he does not see people past four bells in the afternoon.” Now she faced me for the first time during the entire conversation. “There are only two places here in Bravil where you and I can speak frankly about such matters,” she tipped her head back over her left shoulder, “the Quivering Bridge and here, the Mages’ Guild. Kud-Ei runs a very tight ship, and the Count has little influence here.”

I felt my brows lifting at the implications. “I understand, ma’am,” I said quietly.

“There’s one other item of interest,” Lerus added. “A pirate ship -” her eyes unfocused momentarily, “- ah, the Marie Elena, cruises up and down the Niben regularly. We’ve seen them board merchant ships out in the Bay, but they never dock here. Instead, once a month, they drop anchor out on the open water, and gro-Dragol always sends a skiff or two out to them. They off-load their cargo with him and proceed on their way. I mentioned it once to the Count, but he told me it was nothing of importance. Now I wonder -” her voice trailed off.

I thought I knew the direction of her thoughts. Smuggling skooma, as well as stolen goods from the ships they’ve boarded? A memory of a sad-eyed Bosmer woman surfaced in my mind. “What happens to the passengers and crews of the boarded ships, Captain?”

“I’ve seen them toss bodies overboard,” Lerus’s voice grew chill. “Most of them are weighted to sink, but an occasional one washes ashore.” She shook her head. “I’ve heard of no survivors - if there are any, likely they’ve been taken to slave markets in Black Marsh and Elsweyr.”

“The victims you’ve been able to identify,” I held Lerus’s gaze, my tone matching hers, “is there any way I can find out who they are, ma’am?”

“They’re few and far between,” Lerus responded. “How far back do you want to go?”

“Five years?” I asked. She nodded curtly.

“I’ll have Frederick bring them to you,” she turned to leave.

“Just a moment, Captain,” I stopped her. “Why are you telling me all this?”

“Because you’re like me, in many ways,” Lerus responded, her green eyes steady on mine. “But the most critical difference between us is that your hands aren’t tied.”

A good portrayal of ardaline and varmori, a slight role-reversal on their parts, it works brilliantly.

And you did a great job with Lerus, you have turned her into a fantastic character which I quite like.

More please?

The scene between Vamori and Ardaline was just wonderful. Julian’s remark that, “There are some things you have to do for yourself,” was much more satisfying than the in-game resolution. And she has also managed to get Ardaline to show some spirit- a huge accomplishment.

Ohhh, very clever plotting indeed to involve Terentius (who I believe is a known gambler?) in gro-Dragol’s little venture at Fort Grief!

And the pirate ship is another excellent addition to the question of “Why is Bravil so poor?”

The whole conversation with Lerus, including the “tradecraft,” was brilliant.



I think your “but” got “bit” here. What? Why is everyone laughing? What did I say? What do you mean, “channeling Foxy”?

Two words, Hautee. Only two words.

HELL YEAH!!!!

And ESSS for YOU, Trey, all I can say
is what the hey did you play
a Foxy for...did your mind go astray???

Aaah, now we see Lerus' "incompetence" revealed. Just great Haute!

A most satisfying part. The resolution to the bravil quest, like it's action, was far more satisfying and revealing of character than the vanilla version. Such deviation from the established plot are good additions and really keep the life and character of this piece which makes so much more of Cyrodiil's inhabitants.

The revelations (for Julian at least) about the count's son and possibly the count and the smuggling and the like were well revealed and give me a feeling that Julian might be about to go on an all new quest which I await with excitment.

OOOOHHHH! A deviation from Bethesda's minds into that of our Hauty - AWESOME !!!!!!!!!!!

Two wonderful segments.

Ardaline's staff. I simply love what you did here to richen this quest and bring its characters to life. I am so proud of Julian - and Ardaline too. I've always liked Ardaline. As you have done before, you portrayed Kud-Ei exactly the way I see her. She delivers the goods with wisdom, but in such an understated way. Just beautiful, Rider.

Viera Lerus. Oooh, very intriguing. There are so many possibilities for the enigma that is Bravil and I am so glad you are developing some of that. It seems your Captain Lerus is a rather complex woman with secrets still to be revealed. Clearly there is conflict within her and I am fascinated by the depth you are bringing to her. As ever, Julian is quite the wonderful sounding board to bring out the nature of differing NPCs.

Don’t worry, the Brotherhood quest will be completed. Eventually.
Did you mean the Order of the Virtuous Blood quest? Or is there a Dark Brotherhood quest Julian has gotten herself involved in?

I bit my lip at the sudden thought that Vamori was probably wishing he was the Staff in that moment.
I can think of a pale Bosmer who would wish the same!

Remind me to steal your street names again...

Finally we get to see why Lerus has been sitting on her behind. However, now it begs the question of why has she not resigned in protest? I can see how she cannot arrest or otherwise remove the Count. But she knows what he is up to, and by doing nothing, she has given her tacit approval to his actions. As dramatic as it sounds, tyranny, injustice, and discrimination flourish because people like her are not willing to do anything about it. Like it or not, she is a dirty cop by looking the other way when she knows murder and drug running are being committed. It could be that she is a native Bravilian who hopes to do some good where she is. But the truth is that retaining her position and refusing to act is a betrayal of the people of Bravil, not to mention her own honor.

Tying the skooma den with the Marie Elena was brilliant. However, you have it appearing that gro-Dragol was ultimately behind the skooma operation? But in the game it is Nordinor running it. Would Nordinor be one of gro-Dragol's henchmen then?


nits:
I had to look up aesculus to make sure it was not an ancient Greek playwright you were referring to. Perhaps using a more common name like chestnut might be simpler? Likewise with betula.

Is that why Lerus didn’t drag gro-Dragol off for questioning when Loche disappeared?
You missed italicizing the first I in the sentence.

@hazmick: Thanks for the vote of approval on the finish of this quest. I rather like my version better anyways.

@treydog: I’m glad you liked the politics in play here in Bravil - I wanted to explain why it is the most run-down of all the cities of Cyrodiil. Its location on the Bay should make it a thriving river town, what with all the major rivers dumping into the same spot on the Niben (Narsius, Panther, Silverfish, Corbolo . . .) - kind of like St. Louis. And yet, it is just another shabby collection of shacks. SubRosa actually planted the seed of the Marie Elena when she made that comment some time ago about Adanrel’s brother being killed by bandits - no, pirates. It just dovetailed together too neatly. I had to go with Occam’s Razor on this one.

@Foxy: Thanks!

@Remko: I’m glad you ‘get’ Lerus now!

@Olen: Yes, Julian will eventually bring a resolution to the situation in Bravil. But that will have to wait . . .

@mALX: Ya want deviation? Ya want all original work? Be careful what you wish for - ya just got it! An entire chapter full of nuttink but Hautee’s mind!

@Acadian: I’m glad that you enjoy learning about the different NPC’s through Julian. My original intent in starting this story was actually to flesh out the NPC’s, but Julian turned out to be just as interesting in her own way as many of the characters we’ve met so far.

@SubRosa: You’re welcome to my street names! Actually, the maps in my Prima Game Guide all have the names penciled in! As for why Lerus has not resigned in protest, let me ask, why should she abandon her post, and the people of Bravil, over something like Terentius’s illicit behavior? And isn’t she doing something about it by recruiting Julian to her cause? I never realized Nordinor was running the skooma trade. I’ll have to look into it on the wiki. Thanks for the tip.

A bit of a time jump here, but all will be revealed. Chapter 15 is more than ninety-percent free-typing, with very little (other than locations and characters which you’ve already encountered) from the game. I consider this the most important chapter out of the 20 or so I’ve written so far in terms of Julian’s development. This marks a major turning point for her.

*****************
Chapter 15.1 A Confession

Paint trudged through the tall gateway, pausing only to blow hard before ascending the steps. My hands clenched on the pommel, I gritted my teeth at the pain in my right knee, agony shooting up my thigh and down into my ankle with every step the patient gelding took. Hang in there, just have to get to the top of the stairs. I looked up to see three armored figures waiting at the edge of the plaza, their gazes on Paint’s slow ascent. The shortest figure detached herself and ran down to meet us halfway.

“Julian!” It was Jena, concern in her blue eyes. “You’ve been hurt!”

My throat too parched for speech, I nodded silently. Jena stroked Paint’s neck and took his rein, leading him up to where the other two Blades waited. Through blurred vision, I recognized Jauffre by his balding pate and the hilt of the dai-katana rising past his left shoulder. Jena led Paint to a stop on the plaza, turning the gelding slightly so the two men stood at his right side.

Jauffre reached out and fingered the bloodstained cloth wrapped around my right knee. “We sent you for a Daedric artifact,” his eyes met mine. “What in Oblivion did you do, close more Gates?”

Blackness surged around the edges of my vision as I nodded again, then the ground whirled at me. Strong arms caught me, then I saw Captain Steffan’s eyes before the blue sky beyond disappeared into the abyss.

I whirled out of the void as quickly as it had come for me, my body twisting against the pain. As I gasped for air, strong hands caught my shoulders and steadied me, until I could tell up from down again.

“You’re safe, Julian,” Captain Steffan’s voice reached me. His hands on my shoulders squeezed comfortingly, then eased me back onto the cot. I looked into the Captain’s steady azure gaze. “You made it back,” his eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled reassuringly.

I realized that I lay in the Hall of the Blades, near the huge fireplace that was a room in itself. Its heat soaked into my chilled bones, loosening the pain that coiled through my body. A glance at my injured leg revealed that I was no longer dressed in leathers, but rather a loose-fitting woolen robe.

Captain Steffan rose and turned away from me as footsteps drew near. “She’s awake, Sire,” I heard him say, then recognized Martin past Steffan’s broad shoulder. The captain moved away to let Martin sit next to me. I could see the concern in his gaze.

“Jena went to Bruma for the Healer,” he said, picking up a steaming mug. “But here, drink this up. It’ll help with the pain.”

As I accepted the mug in shaking fingers, I looked back at Martin. I tried to tell him about Sheogorath’s Staff, but nothing came out of my open mouth. Martin shook his head and nudged the mug closer to my lips. I sniffed it warily. Tea. Something else. A healing potion? I drank it slowly, nearly gagging at the strong taste of the potion. The tea barely moistened my dry throat.

The healing warmth surged through my body and beat the overwhelming pain back to their sources in my right knee, my left elbow, and my lower back. My vision also cleared, allowing me to see details at a distance. I looked up again, this time seeing not only Steffan, but also Jauffre and Baurus, ranged behind Martin.

“Hmph,” Jauffre grunted. He drew up another chair, setting it by the foot of the cot and sitting down. “Now, Julian, you admit to closing more Oblivion Gates?” Martin shot him a glance, then looked back at me. I knew they wanted to hear why I had been gone so long.

“Five of them,” I whispered.

“Five Gates?” Jauffre sat back in surprise. “You closed five Gates?”

The censure in his voice made me look away. “I couldn’t ignore them, sir, not when they’re so close to the roads and settlements.” I wondered where my gear went. “My pack, the stuff on my saddle?”

“Here,” Roliand’s voice sounded from behind Baurus and Steffan. They stood aside to let the big Nord set my gear down near the cot. He grinned at me. “Your Paint is in better shape than you are, it seems. He’s fine, just needs a rest.” Winking at me, he turned and walked away.

“How long have I been out?” I struggled to sit up.

“Oh, about thirty minutes or so,” Steffan set cushions at my back. “Jena left right away, because we could tell you are pretty badly beat up.” I almost missed the dark look in his eyes then.

“You should wait until the healer gets here before giving your report,” Martin said, drawing my attention to him. “You still look pretty shaky.”

“No, it’ll take too long to wait, Sire,” I sipped again at the tea. “I’d like to fill you and Jauffre in now, while I’m still awake, Sire.”

“I’ll bring the teapot, then,” Steffan turned to go.

“Throw in a couple more potions while you’re at it, Captain,” Jauffre ordered, then turned back to me. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped loosely between them. “Begin, Julian.”

“I went to the Imperial City first, to look up Gwinas,” I saw the look of recognition in Baurus’s gaze. “Gwinas had mentioned being at some Daedric Shrines when I spoke to him about the Commentaries,” I continued, aware of Baurus’s nod. “He was helpful, and gave me the locations of several Shrines, including Azura’s. I decided to go to Sheogorath’s Shrine, south of Bravil.”

Steffan returned with a steaming teapot, placing it over the fire. Martin and Jauffre motioned for me to drink up the last of the tea in my mug. After I did so, I had the strength to go on.

“On the way down to Bravil, I found a Gate had opened near the Green Road, almost on top of a place called Inn of Ill Omen,” I faltered over the name. “When I spoke to the innkeeper, he told me business had fallen off, and he was concerned about the forester that was based there, a Kaeso Marsias.” I searched for approval in Jauffre’s bland gaze. “Marsias was the only Legion around, and I couldn’t leave him to deal with that Gate alone, not after -” I closed my eyes against the memory of the mutilated bodies in the Kvatch Deadlands. “Not after Kvatch.” I struggled to steady my breathing.

“So you went in and closed that Gate,” Martin stated quietly. “Of course, you couldn’t do otherwise.” Jauffre only grunted.

“There was another one right outside Bravil, too,” I added. “In the ruins of that old fort that is on the north bank of the Bay.” I looked into my empty mug. Steffan brought the teapot over and refilled the cup without a word. “Thanks, sir,” I said to him. “I closed that one, too.”

“But that’s not how you got so banged up, Julian,” Martin said. I shook my head.

“I went to the Chapel for healing. As part of my cover, I checked in at the Mages Guild afterwards,” Jauffre nodded in approving comprehension. “I got my recommendation from there, and I had to report to Captain Lerus of the City Watch.”

“Why?” Jauffre frowned at me. I swallowed another sip of the tea to hide my uneasiness at his disapproval.

“She remembered me from my previous visit there,” I answered slowly. “I wasn’t at my best, then, and she practically ran me out of town that time.” I recalled that I had never told Jauffre about my addiction.

Jauffre looked down at his loosely clasped hands. “Why did Captain Lerus run you out of town the last time you were there?” his voice was a growl.

Beside me, Martin shifted, turning toward Jauffre. As I glanced at the Septim, I sensed his protest. Reaching out to touch his wrist, I shook my head at Martin. I have to tell Jauffre myself. “I was drunk,” I spoke slowly. “When I was discharged from the Legion, I was in pain all the time. I drank heavily to escape it. After a while, it didn’t work. When I was in Bravil, I became addicted to skooma -” I closed my eyes.

Fortunately, the smith’s hammer was quiet in my head, and I felt none of the cravings that had hit me hard just a few days ago. Thank you, Akatosh, Talos, Mara, which ever of you took that away from me. “That’s when Captain Lerus kicked me out. I was brawling too much when I wasn’t holed up in the skooma den.”

Looking at Baurus, standing behind Martin, I noticed that he had his gaze on the floor. “As a matter of fact, that’s how I ended up in the Imperial Prison, I think,” I added. “I got into a fight with a Dunmer mercenary at the Wawnet Inn.”

Baurus met my gaze. “Yes, I looked you up after you left me in the Prison sewers. Laterensis Maro has no patience for drunks and brawlers. But he left you alive because that Dunmer was badmouthing the Legion, and you wouldn’t stand for it.”

“And since then,” Jauffre asked me, “any more skooma?”

“Not since Maro arrested me,” I answered.

“You’re in a lot of pain right now,” Jauffre pressed, his gaze skeptical. Is he regretting making me part of the Blades? I wondered. “What’s to stop you from seeking out drink, or skooma?”

“This kind of pain I can handle,” I held the Grandmaster’s gaze. “As long as I don’t get those headaches, I don’t crave any of it. But I’m afraid to take any drink, because I think that’s what kept those headaches going.”

There was silence for several moments. Martin watched Jauffre, who glared at me. Baurus and Steffan considered the wood floor. When the tension became too great, I took a deep breath.

“Grandmaster, sir,” I made myself hold his dark glower, “if you don’t think I deserve to be a Blade Sister, I understand -”

Well done. Very powerful, and very Julian.

You handled her fall into unconsciousness and recovery in a wonderfully immersive manner. I could feel what Julian did.

So, now we know that our hero has been 'intercepted' by a few more gates - that of course required her action. It seems Martin understands and Jauffre. . . not so much. Very creative that you are displaying quite different reactions from the two men to the same words.

My money's with Martin. He's a Septim for a reason.

As always, just a joy to read!

BWAAAAH! After all she's done they are going to reject her for having a past? Jauffre has one, just look at the heads on sticks outside the priory! ARGH! I hope Martin straightens them out, he has a very huge past to cover up!

On Lerus, I do not see how she is recruiting Julian to her cause. She did not hire/ask Julian to close the gate outside of the city, rescue Aleron Loche, or kill the local crimelord. Julian did all those things simply because it is in her nature to be heroic. Lerus is just sitting around until Bravil gets lucky enough for someone else to come along willing to do something. I would not characterize the murder and drug running you are describing as simply being illicit behaviour either. The way you lay it all out, this is all happening because the Count benefits from it, and he is not going to let anyone upset his gravy train. You even implied that he is the reason that the city is in such dire economic straits. Basically, you have led all the problems Bravil has back to his doorstep (which is entirely believable, I have seen it all for real here in Detroit).

Lerus is not the only good cop in a bad town doing her best to make things right. She is a cop doing nothing to make things right. If Lerus were the person you try to portray her as, she would do something, even though it would probably get her killed. The truth is her hands are not tied. That is just the excuse that everyone who is too afraid to act uses. Instead she is playing it safe, staying out of it all, and letting someone else do her job for her.

She could start by closing down the skooma den when the Count's son is in it, with a bottle in his mouth, and throw him and the rest in the dungeon. Then when the Count demands she release him, she can stand up to him and refuse. He might try to sack her, and she can refuse to surrender her command. Things would quickly hurtle to violence then, as the Count would probably try to have her killed. Most likely by whoever her second in command is. Or he might try the Dark Brotherhood instead. If she survives, and is smart enough, she can use that to accuse the Count of trying to murder her and throw him in prison. If he went the DB route, he would have to do a Night Mother ritual to contact them. That leaves plenty of evidence for Lerus to use against him (as it did with Claudius Arcadia). Even if not, he still has to hire the killer, and she just has to make the right person talk. Furthermore, if the Count is being paid off by gro-Dragol and the pirates, then he will have ledgers recording it somewhere. When that much money is changing hands there always is, otherwise he would not know if he was being cheated out of his share of the loot (not just by gro-Dragol, but by his own flunkies).

Or instead of going the above route of your standard Western, Lerus could go Miami Vice instead. She could petition Adamus Phillida for aid, since in the game City Guard are members of the legion, so he is her boss. He can send in an outsider as an undercover agent to get all the evidence on the Count, the crimelord, the pirates, and the skooma trading. Then she can throw a net over them in one fell swoop.

On the other hand, if she is afraid her career will be destroyed because she brought down the Count (a very realistic concern), or if she has a family that would probably be murdered, she can just quit and go work for a ruler who is not corrupt. I hear the Countess in Anvil is looking for someone. She can not only keep her integrity, but also make room for someone else who might take care of business.

The reason none of this happens in the game is because if the NPCs are competent it leaves the player with nothing to do. It is a game after all, and its creators were not interested in making sense, or believable characters, but rather creating a fun romp where the player can walk around fighting things.

I am sorry that it sound like I am being overly critical, but if I am going to give a meaningful critique, I have to bring up the things that hurt your writing as well as those that help it. You are trying to force a very square peg into a round hole, and have made Lerus a completely unbelievable character for me. You wanted an explanation, so I have said my piece, and I am not going to harangue you with it anymore. The last thing I want is for you to worry that I am going to attack you every post you make.

Now, onto chapter 15. You show us Julian at the end of her rope in fantastic fashion. I can feel the exhaustion that covers her in a shroud. Then to top it all off with her having to admit to her skooma addiction in front of everyone. I doubt that is going to be a real issue for anyone though. The way that Julian arrived at Cloud Ruler is the clearest statement of her quality, which none can deny.

Well on that bright side, at least no one was calling her a hero That would just be unbearable!

Wow, powerful stuff Haute. I'm on the edge of my seat, cup of tea in hand, waiting for the next chapter

Nice description of unconsciousness and the nerve racking addiction admittance to Jauffre. More? please?

Well first all from head and not influenced by the game, this I'm looking forward to. A lot. The oppertunities for character development and the like are huge and I can't wait to read it.

You showed that it was Cloud Ruler well, the first sentence was enough to let the reader know (though later confirmation was also there) but without even a hint of telling. It certainly opened the part well and quite an opening it was with her passing out.

The admission of addiction was well done, I'd never seen Jauffre as one to care so much about the past though. Certainly Martin has his past and I'll bet Jauffre as head of the Blades has done shadowy things and sanctioned more. That's not to say that the element doesn't fit the character you've given him though, more that it was unexpected but not ill fitting.

I'm certainly interested to see how this resolves itself, will Jauffre need reigned in by Martin or not...

A part of me wants to wring Jauffre's neck- a rather large part, actually. That is a measure of your skill at writing believeable characters- and at making us care about Julian.

But- Jauffre's tunnel-vision is in character. He is Grandmaster of the Blades, whose mission is to keep the Emperor alive. And right now, there is only ONE Septim left in the whole place. So, grudgingly, I will give him a pass.

But- if he doesn't cut Julian some slack pretty soon, I hope she (or someone) will remind him that it was his precious Blades that let the Emperor (and all his legitimate offspring) get killed. And that Julian is the only one who has done a bloody thing to avert the Crisis- retrieved the Amulet- (which Jauffre then lost, oh by the way); retrieved Martin; closed the Kvatch gate (plus 5 others); retrieved a Daedric artifact.

Oh- and did I forget to mention she did all this while fighting debilitating pain?

So- there may be the portion of someone's anatomy opposite his head on a pike outside Cloud Ruler- even if I have to send Athynae to see to it!

An absolutely immersive and enthralling addition, haute! Thank you for sharing your vision and your talent.

@Acadian: I’m glad that you are enjoying my ongoing development of Martin and Jauffre.

@mALX: That’s what you (and Julian) think! Read on!

@SubRosa: Thanks for the objective criticism. Lerus is one of my blind spots - I will acknowledge that she is a weak point in my plot. I’ve been thinking about going back and rewriting her part. When I figure her out for good, I’ll let you know so you can give me your input. As for the issue of her skooma addiction, I think you are the closest to the mark regarding what happens in my story.

@hazmick: Don’t fall off your seat now. I think it only gets better.

@Olen: I see that you, like SubRosa, don’t see Julian’s past as being a real issue for Jauffre. Again, I will tell you that you’ve hit close to the mark.

@trey: Tell Athynae to cool it - there is no need for her to go rampaging to Cloud Ruler Temple!

@All: I’m just a little taken aback (and tickled) by people’s reaction to Jauffre’s response. I’m a little too close to him - I understand him all too well. I guess it’s my own fault for ending the first segment where I did. But don’t put his head (or that portion opposite) on a pike just yet!

We learn just how ingrained Julian’s new habit has become, and a chance at freedom from old injuries.

****************
Chapter 15.2 A Hope for Healing

Jauffre’s scowl disappeared into a startled look. “You think your addiction is news to me?” he demanded. “You thought I didn’t look into your background?” He jabbed a finger at Baurus. “I got his report before you returned from Kvatch. I knew why you were in prison.” He shook his head, while I stared thunderstruck at him. “No, I am upset because you returned to Bravil, where you became addicted to skooma in the first place. You can’t pick up a bottle there without smelling skooma in it, even when it contains ale or cheap wine.”

“I can’t avoid Bravil forever, sir,” I said after a moment. “I did get those headaches again, after -” I hesitated. Do I tell them I was gallivanting around after a missing person?

“After what?” Jauffre cocked his head at me. Momentarily I realized how my own tironii felt when I put them under inquiry for infractions.

“An old Breton had gone missing,” I admitted, looking down at my bruised hands in my lap. “His wife asked me to find him.”

“Aye,” Jauffre nodded, smiling at my startled look. His gaze sharpened at me. “I have agents in every city, every town,” he added. “As a matter of fact,” he reached inside his cuirass, drew out a parchment, “I have a report here from Bravil, dated yesterday -” he unfolded it and scanned it. “Ah yes, ‘Julian from Anvil discovered the real source of Kurdan gro-Dragol’s main source of income, a sporting hunt of the worst kind - a hunt of men against men, in an isolated fort located on an island in the Bay. She shut the operation down at great risk to herself.’” He looked at me over the top of the parchment. “Is that true?”

“Um, yes,” I admitted, aware of the steady gazes of Martin, Baurus and Steffan on me, though I would not look at them.

“So, did this gro-Dragol give you those headaches?” Jauffre pressed.

“No, it was one of his clients,” I answered slowly. I didn’t want to talk about that incident anymore.

“Yes, an Orsimer named -” again Jauffre consulted the parchment, “Shadeem gro-Mazur, formerly a munifex in the Legio I, a deserter.” He read a bit more to himself, then met my gaze again. “And the only one there with some Legion training.”

“Fought like it, too,” I muttered.

“So when you had those headaches,” Jauffre continued, “what kept you from going into that skooma den?”

“Marz, and the Nine, healed me,” I answered.

“Hmm,” Jauffre raised the parchment again. “And here, it says you were attacked by a Mythic Dawn agent earlier.”

“Yes, but the City Watch took care of that.” I had forgotten about Ranaline.

“Not before you wore her down,” Jauffre shook his head. “You’ve been busy, Julian.”

“But you did go to the Shrine of Sheogorath, you said?” Martin broke in. Relieved at the change of subject, I nodded. Craning my neck so I could see my gear, I saw Sheogorath’s staff, still wrapped in a wolf pelt, leaning against my pack.

“I got that for you, Sire,” I pointed at it. Jauffre leaned down and flung the pelt back to expose one end of the artifact. Martin rose out of his chair and knelt to uncover it.

“The Wabbajack!” he exclaimed, picking it up in his hands. “Good riddance to this tool of mischief!” He looked at me. “Are you sure you want me to use this? Remember, the ritual will consume the artifact.”

“Like you said, Sire,” I responded, thinking of the Grove of Madness, “good riddance.”

Jauffre regarded me for long moments, while Martin took the Staff and leaned it against the stout supporting post nearest his study table. “So far, I only count two Oblivion Gates,” he commented as Martin returned to the chair beside me.

Gulping the last of the tea down, I looked into the mug. “There were three between the Imperial City and Bruma,” I said quietly.

“The one at the corner of the Silver and Orange Roads,” Jauffre nodded. “But where were the other two?”

“On the Red Ring Road, on either side of Aleswell,” I answered. The Grandmaster’s eyebrows rose at me. “I couldn’t leave them open, in such close proximity to the village,” I added, hearing the defensiveness in my voice.

“Aye, they have enough trouble with a certain mage living in Fort Caractacus,” Jauffre pronounced the name with more ease than I had ever managed. He returned my stare blandly. Right, I thought, he’s got agents everywhere.

“The last one,” I looked down again at the empty mug, “was full of nasty traps, fire towers, and clannfears.” I shook my head. “I had never seen them before, though I had heard about them.” I pointed to the gash on my right knee. “They have claws like scythes, tore through my leathers like they were silk.”

Screeching, the reptilian creature lunged at me. Its shield shaped head deflected my katana, while its hooked beak bit on the edge of the Kvatch Wolf . The force of its momentum bowled me over, while I frantically tried to stab at some soft part of its belly. The long, gleaming claws on its hind feet raked down the outside of my right leg, digging deep into my lower thigh and knee as it ran over me. Screaming from the pain, I grimly hung on to my shield as the creature tried to wrench it out of my grip. It dragged me a few meters before letting go of the Wolf.

Struggling to my knees, I raised the shield in time to deflect its return charge. As I was knocked backwards again, the Wolf split into two around my left arm, the two halves held together by the straps I still gripped. One of the pieces struck me in the face, splitting my lip and breaking my nose for the fourth time. Shock and anger at the loss of my Wolf caused me to drop my katana and fling a fireball at the tumbling clannfear. It shrieked as it kept rolling, off the balcony into the pillar of fire below.

I shook my head, returning to the present when Martin pressed my refilled mug back into my hand. “Clannfears are dreadful creatures,” he commented softly, his face careworn in the firelight. “Believe me when I tell you there are worse daedra than clannfears.”

“Clannfears are bad enough, Sire,” I complained. “Sniping them just makes them pissed off.”

“That’s when you want a good bow with a shock enchantment,” Martin advised. I caught Jauffre’s assessing glance at the Septim prince. “Most daedra are susceptible to shock,” Martin continued, ignoring the Grandmaster. “Did you, by any chance, keep any of the sigil stones?”

“Yes, I did,” I pointed at the pack. “In there.”

“May I?” Martin asked, then opened the pack when I nodded. He found the five sigil stones, each carefully wrapped in red wool, the remnants of the Mythic Dawn robe from my escape from the Prison. He examined each one, studying the Daedric script on each. “Here,” he set one on the cot. “This one will enchant a weapon with shock damage. Put it on a steel bow, and you’ll find those clannfears easier to deal with.”

Jauffre leaned back, crossing his arms on his chest, his gaze on Martin skeptical. He didn’t say anything, though. Martin looked up at me after he returned the other four stones to my pack.

“You’ve got two fire damage stones, one nighteye stone, and a chameleon stone,” he commented. “Quite a nice collection there.” He looked at me again. “I hope you consider them worth the risk to yourself.”

“Eliminating the risk to unarmed travelers and villagers is worth the risk to myself,” I responded quietly. “That’s what being a soldier is about.”

“And you’re proud of it,” Jauffre gripped my ankle through the blanket, nodding in approval. “As you should be,” he added. He looked up at the sound of the great doors opening and closing. “Ah, here’s Cirroc,” he rose to his feet. “And I believe that is Selena Orania with him.”

Martin, Baurus and Steffan withdrew as the pair drew near. Cirroc, the Redguard, gave me an assessing gaze. At his shoulder, Orania paused when she recognized me, then she followed Cirroc to my side. I caught her hesitation and recalled that I had never told her of my association with the Blades.

Jauffre picked up my gear and moved the pile to the other side of the fireplace to give the two more room to work. He retreated in the same direction as the others, leaving the Great Hall ‘s fireplace to Cirroc, Orania and myself.

With spare, economical movements, Cirroc examined me, identifying each of my injuries and murmuring to Orania. She drew out a mortar and pestle and moved to the fire, where she found the pot of tea still simmering.

First Cirroc healed my broken left elbow, restoring the integrity of the joint. The black bruises along my forearm, where the Kvatch Wolf had snapped, faded to yellow on my dark skin. Then he focused on my right knee. He bent close and peered at the wound.

“This is on top of an old injury,” he looked up at me, his fingers gently probing at the deep gashes, causing the blood to flow again.

“Yes,” I answered. “Four, almost five years ago - !” I gasped when he did something to send a sharp shooting pain up my leg.

“Yes, and it healed badly,” Cirroc nodded, peering closer at the wound again. “But these gashes have laid it open, damaged the scar tissue badly.” Covering the wound with a bandaging cloth, he sat back and looked at me thoughtfully. “There’s a chance -”

I struggled to sit up again, but he pressed me back against the cushions. “A chance of what?” I asked.

“A chance to undo some of the old damage,” the Redguard’s tone was neutral, but his gaze was very serious. “I must remove the damaged tissue, but I can work to restore some of the structural integrity of the joint.”

I stared at the Redguard. “You have surgical training?” I asked. He nodded.

“I was immunes in the Fourth Legion,” Cirroc leaned forward again to peer at the shredded tissue around my knee. “Medicus vulnerarius.” Surgeon-healer.

Orania turned from the fire to look at me. “He’s very good, too,” she volunteered. “I remember you said you didn’t want surgery, but -” her gaze drifted toward my damaged joint. “If you’re to continue closing Oblivion Gates, you need what Cirroc can provide.”

“I can’t be laid up for long,” I began. Cirroc shook his head.

“Your knee is at a point now that you’re laid up anyway, whether you like it or not,” he said firmly. “I can close the wounds, but structurally speaking, it’s weaker than it was before. You try walking on it, it will give way permanently.”

“How long will Julian be laid up with the surgery?” Jauffre’s voice sounded from behind me.

“A week, maybe more, sir,” Cirroc answered. “I’ll have to come every day to heal it a little bit more. Selena will have to make enough heavy-duty healing potions to supply Julian for that duration as well.”

“Can’t you do it all at once?” I asked.

“Oh I could, but it would be just as bad as before,” Cirroc answered. “This is a case where slow is better. The tissues need to rest and toughen up in between spurts of healing. That was the problem before. Whoever cast that original healing spell on you tried to do it all at once.” He shook his head sadly. “It’s fine for skin, bone and muscles, but tendons and ligaments need more time.”

“Can you do this right away?” Jauffre asked. Cirroc nodded at him.

“I still have my obsidian blade,” he answered, drawing a small packet from his belt purse. “Never leave home without it.” He showed me the small black scalpel. “Still as sharp as the day it was made.”

Jauffre! that sly fox, he knows more than he's letting on. much more.

Haa-Rei asks Julian to do as Cirroc says, even if he is a bit snooty about the nine. He also asks her to get well soon so (in the Argonian's words) ''she can fight daedra so I don't have to.''

ARGH! Finally she is going to get her knee fixed - AND JAUFFRE IS DAMIEN "FOXY" REYNARD !!!!!! All it lacked was him pointing to a spot on that report and he could have been FOXY !!!!!!! AWESOME !!!!!!!!!!


Now that is what we would expect from the head of the Blades, AND he gave Julian her dignity back.

I LOVE THIS CHAPTER !!!!!!!!!

Lots of background filled in here. I'm impressed with Jauffre's network of intelligence. It would seem appropriate for the head of the Blades, and is a wonderful tool to help flesh out our modest Julian.

You also make it clear that Martin does indeed have a past. His knowledge of Daedra and sigil stones is impressive.

I loved using the flashback to introduce the horror of clannfears and the loss of Julian's shield. Unless I'm reading too much into things, it also hints at how Julian is growing in her game. Clannfears (or their runts) imply a character with a few levels behind them.

I'm so pleased that it seems our poor hero may finally get some significant relief for that knee.

Wonderful, Rider!

formerly a munifex in the Legio I
This little passage just sings with flavor. Adding in these little touches of specific titles make the setting come alive in a way that saying "a soldier" just cannot.

So now we see where Julian got so badly beaten up. I had assumed that most of those five Oblivion gates came on the way back to Cloud Ruler. Your decision to revisit them in flashback rather than slog through each one before writing Julian's return to Cloud Ruler was wise. It would have gotten very repetitive, very fast (as it does playing the game!). You gave us the best part as well, showing how Julian got her knee re-injured, and the destruction of the Kvatch Wolf. I am going to miss it.

“Your knee is at a point now that you’re laid up anyway, whether you like it or not,”
I love characters who just tell it like it is!

Finally, you bring us to the long-anticipated moment of truth for Julian's knee. I have been waiting for this for a while. Your rationale for why it healed badly in the first place was imho perfect, and believable in a fantasy setting. I am sure as a vet you often see it in bones that are not set properly as well. I have seen dinosaur bones like that, and the way the new growth comes around the old it looks like it must have been incredibly painful for the animal.

You managed to save Jauffre from a fate worse than having to deal with Edward (and Docada). And not only has he been keeping up with her current activities- he has been planning for the complete healing of her knee.

This was another one where I liked everything about it. I agree that the flash-back method of giving the highlights of the Gates is quite effective. And there is something about the sheer number- and the tangible proof of the sigil stones- that makes us feel the weight and weariness of going into those gates and fighting through to the towers.

And you do a wonderfully oblique job of showing a hint of Martin's background.

In your capable hands, the Blades have become the sort of apparatus that Morrowind hinted at...

Now there was some development of Julian. I liked Jauffre using his spy network to draw out mroe of what she did, and the way she admitted to helping the poor and closing gates and the like as if it was something she should appologise for was priceless. That seam of subtle humour really made this part shine.

And now the knee is to be repaired, and about time if she's meeting clanfears (a cleverly subtle way of showing that she is becoming more skilled).


Infuriatingly true.

I'm looking forward to her resting up in Cloud Ruler too, if your first description of it was anything to go by this should be a treat in the character line. Certainly the interplay between Jauffre, Julian and Martin is excellent. And I suspect she'll be getting a new shield and bow (though she should really consider fireshield as an enchantment).

One vauge nit:
Martin, Baurus and Steffan withdrew as the pair drew near - the double use of drew sort of jarred but that might be more to do with my obsession with the like.

Pfff. tell me about it, dislocated my left shoulder nearly 10 years ago and it's still painful every once in a while..
Loved it H.E.R.

@hazmick: You’ve nailed it! Jauffre plays his cards very close to his vest.

@mALX: Funny, Foxy wasn’t on my mind when I wrote that chapter. Jauffre was growling at me and complaining that I wasn’t giving him enough meat! This whole dialogue was my compromise! Okay, Foxy, go ahead with the Dhertee Inn Uendos!

@Acadian: Yes, Martin is a veritable fount of Daedra lore. And yes, the clannfears are a hint at Julian’s level of gameplay, though I’m not following the leveling up process faithfully at all (I find it rather artificial). I knew you would be glad to see Cirroc offering to heal that bum knee for once and for all!

@SubRosa: I am so NOT going to describe every Gate Julian and I slogged through! They all kind of blur together, you know? Except for a couple of gates where she actually has company, and of course the last one. The damage to Julian’s knee is actually to the tendons and ligaments, not the bones. The knee is one of those things where it’s useless without the ligaments, yet those ligaments are the weak points in the entire thing. A torn cruciate ligament is the most common limb injury we see in dogs. And yes, fractures will heal no matter what, and they will often heal crooked. Of course it hurts while the bone is healing, and every time it’s going to rain . . . As for losing the Kvatch Wolf, well, the shield is gone, but the wolf isn’t.

@treydog: I’m glad you liked everything about that last segment. Julian still doesn’t understand what compelled her to save every one of those damn stones, but Martin just told her why they are so gosh darn valuable! Once I learned what the Blades did in TES III, I wondered why they were less than useless in TES IV. So I made them into the US Secret Service, which consists of so much more than the bodyguards with the sunglasses and earpieces we see around the President (those guys are just the tip of the iceberg, IMHO).

@Olen: I’m glad you enjoyed this chapter so far. I hope to let you see more of Cloud Ruler Temple over the next couple of installments.

@Remko: My vet knowledge tells me that while dogs and horses can recover from fractures and go on to have active lives, those who injure tendons and ligaments are pretty much crippled (in varying degrees) forever. Ugh.

The healing process turns out to be more involved than Julian suspected.

*******************
Chapter 15.3 A Dream of Home

The sight of the tiny black knife, ominous in the way it caught the firelight, made me shudder.”I’m used to pain, but -”

“Selena will make a potion to render you unconscious for the time I need to clean this up,” Cirroc assured me. “All I need is your permission, and -” he glanced past me at Jauffre, “plenty of hot water.”

I felt Jauffre’s hand land heavily on my right shoulder, as he leaned down to my right ear. “Emperor Uriel laid a heavy burden on you, Julian,” he whispered. My gaze slid past his hand to where Martin sat at his study table, head propped up on his fist, eyes on one of a growing pile of books. “You need to be strong to bear it.” Jauffre finished, withdrawing his hand and stepping back.

He’s right. I have to last long enough to see Martin made Emperor, and the Jaws of Oblivion closed forever. If I can’t walk, can’t fight - With a deep breath, I felt something coil in my gut. But can’t someone else do it? Can’t Jauffre assign someone else? My eyes slid over to Baurus, standing in his accustomed place behind Martin. As if I had spoken his name aloud, Baurus’s impassive head turned and he returned my gaze, his expression inscrutable in the torch light. Baurus is Martin’s bodyguard, he can’t leave Martin, ever. And didn’t Martin say there were several parts to the Xarxes ritual? He would need more ingredients.

The exhaustion heavy in my bones, I closed my eyes. Akatosh, I’ve served you for twenty-five years. Aren’t I finished? Can’t I find peace? Again that coiling in my belly stirred in response. I realized that it was the same coiling I had felt when I prayed to Akatosh for healing, back in Bravil. Is it you, Akatosh, that I feel down deep inside me? Nothing stirred in response to my question. With a sigh, I opened my eyes and looked at Cirroc, still waiting patiently.

“Orania, what’s in that potion he was talking about?” I asked, keeping my gaze on the healer.

“It’s a basic paralysis potion with the added effect of sleep and pain relief,” Orania told me. I shook my head.

“But what’s in it?” I pressed.

“Fly amanita cap, lavender sprig, willow bark, and lophophora, from the Alik’r Desert,” Orania frowned at my insistence, puzzled.

“I’m an addict,” I explained. “I can’t have any drink or skooma.”

“There is nothing addictive about my potions,” Orania drew herself up angrily. “No good alchemist would use anything so vile!”

For a second there, I recognized my mother in her stance. Like Orania, she had been proud of her alchemy skills, her ability to mix potions that had powerful effects without causing harm. Swallowing back the twinge Mother’s memory had stirred, I looked back at Cirroc.

“Let’s do it, then,” I said quietly.

“It will take about thirty minutes to prepare the potion,” Orania knelt beside her pack, taking out and inspecting ingredient packets, setting aside the ones she needed “Perhaps Cirroc can heal that broken nose of yours.”

Cirroc smiled at her gentle nudging and nodded agreement. “I can certainly do that,” he laid gentle fingertips on my smashed nose and gently manipulated the fragments back into place, the warmth from his fingers reaching deep into my nasal bones. My eyes closed, and I inhaled deeply through my nose for the first time since the Wolf broke it. As the bones fused, Cirroc’s fingers trailed over the gash left by the broken shield in my lip and chin. In spite of myself, I flinched back from his intimate touch. I opened my eyes, but Cirroc’s neutral gaze calmed me.

“Tell me, what is your favorite memory?” he said quietly. I considered his request thoughtfully.

“Playing with my brother in the hills outside Anvil,” I answered. “We had a small farm on a bluff overlooking the Strid River and the Abecean Sea.” I closed my eyes. “My brother was a year older than I, and a little bossy at times. But he shared what he learned with me, from bow hunting, to sneaking up on deer.” I paused, lost in long-forgotten memories. “He apprenticed to Varel Morvayn, the smith, in Anvil, when he was older. Mother would send me into town with lunch for him. Sometimes I would go to the Mages Guild and buy alchemical ingredients for her, whatever we didn’t grow on our own.”

I fell silent, as Cirroc worked to heal my minor injuries, all my cuts and scrapes, the swelling over my left knuckles, the ache in my spine. Orania worked at the fireplace, where Captain Steffan kept her well supplied with hot water. Finally, she took the final product and poured it into a clean mug.

I took the proffered mug and swirled the clear fluid thoughtfully. The odor was strong, reminding me of dust and dry mold. I looked suspiciously up at Orania.

“I’m sorry, if I had more time, I’d take the smell and the taste away,” she said. “But that refining process takes days.”

Taking a deep breath and holding it, I took the full amount into my mouth. I managed to gag the vile taste down before my stomach could reject it. Gods, that was as bad as Maulhand’s stew! Bile rose in my throat, and I coughed, fighting to keep it down. The first thing I noticed was a growing numbness in my stomach, which moved rapidly up my throat into my mouth. It spread out from my belly through my body at a slower pace. My limbs grew heavy, my breathing slowed down, and my vision dimmed.

Cirroc laid a hand on my forehead. “Sleep, Julian,” he said softly, “sleep.”

“Sleep, sleep,” that soothing voice faded away. My sight cleared, and I found myself standing in tall grass, sere and amber in the late afternoon sun. Soft salty air moved against my face, stirring golden waves around me that mirrored the blue and silver waves on the ocean below. The breeze caused my white hair to whip around my face as I turned slowly around to look back at my home, the small farmstead. In the little field in front of the cottage, a slight figure hoed among the profusion of blooms and foliage. I could feel the heat of the sun on my shoulders, see the beautiful colors of the flowers, taste the brine off the ocean, and smell the scent of aloe vera and bergamot. The chiming of the Chapel bells struck the hour. Four bells in the afternoon.

My eyes on the slight figure, I waded through the tall grass toward the farmstead. The woman straightened up, shading her eyes with her hand as she looked towards the ocean. My heart skipped. Mother always looked towards Anvil Harbor every day, when the Chapel bells rang four times. She never said why she did this, but I always felt the disappointment that renewed each afternoon.

I held my breath as I drew closer. Yes, there was that familiar supple back, the thick, wiry, black hair held back in a heavy knot at the nape of the woman’s neck with a turquoise ribbon, the thin silver band that encircled her right wrist, the bracelet Mother never took off, even when she bathed.

The door to the cottage opened, and a tall youth stepped out, his gaze on the woman. My hands went to my mouth as I stared at my handsome brother. He looked just as he had the last time I saw him, when he was seventeen going on eighteen, beginning to fill out from his apprenticeship with Morvayn. Unaware of my presence, he walked to the slim woman, laying his right arm affectionately across her shoulders and leaning down to kiss her cheek. As he straightened up, his gaze moved northward, towards me.

My feet moved me towards the garden, compelled by some strange hope. “Cieran?” I whispered, brushing the strands of white hair back from my face. My hand stopped its motion at my temple. No, it can’t be. My hair should be black, as black as Mother’s -

The woman turned around, and I found myself running forward, into her outstretched arms. “Mother!” As we hugged each other, I felt Cieran’s arms enfold both of us in his bear hug. I found myself laughing, carefree for the first time in so many years. Years? Catching my breath, I leaned back to look at Mother.

Her slim hands reached up to cup my face, gently brushing my hair away, her eyes lingering on its startling white color. She looked as she did when I last saw her alive, as did Cieran, but I - I had changed. I now stood taller than Mother, eye to eye with my brother. My smooth hair shone white in the afternoon sun, no longer blue-black like the raven’s wing.

Again my heart skipped, as I realized that this wasn’t real. “It’s been so long,” I said to Mother. “I’ve wanted to tell you -” my voice faltered. Tell her what? There were so much to tell her, yet I didn’t know what to say. I looked helplessly at my brother. Both of them smiled at me, love in their dark eyes. “I love you both,” I looked from one to the other, still enfolded in their embraces. “I never stopped loving you both,” I was sobbing now, all the pent-up grief at their loss running like the incoming tide over me.

Mother wiped the tears from my cheeks, then brought my face down to her shoulder, her arms holding me close, her hand cupping the back of my head, as she used to do when I was small and woke up with nightmares. We stood together for long moments, until something coiled within my belly. As if she felt it too, Mother’s embrace loosened, and she stepped back from me, sadness in her eyes. My arms fell away as she backed to the cottage, never taking her gaze from mine. I moved to follow her, but my brother’s strong hand on my shoulder stopped me.

“Mother!” I cried, but she turned and stepped through the doorway into the cottage, disappearing from my sight. I saw as much heartache in Cieran’s gaze as I felt in my throat. He gripped my shoulder one last time, then stepped away, turning his back to me as he did so. He followed the path leading to the cottage door.

I tried to follow, but the hand remained on my shoulder, pinning me to the spot. I reached up to seize the hand, felt talons digging into my shoulder, the scales covering the fingers, the fiery breath on the back of my neck. Something about that immense presence gave me courage as I watched the cottage door close behind my brother, and the taloned hand on my shoulder turned to clasp my fingers. A raspy voice sounded behind me -

*Thud* Ow, that was so intense I fell out of my chair. Julian's painful memory of her mother and brother was really touching, and the strange creature is very intriguing. I'll sit here waiting in anticipation for the next glorious chapter in the tale of my favourite Redguard.

Oh my. The “dream sequence” (or was it something more?) was powerful and moving and uplifting and sad. And then the final paragraph!

Anyone who wants to know how to “show and not tell,” look at the way each character in this episode is drawn- Jauffre, Martin with his books, Baurus behind Martin’s shoulder, Orania…. In a very few words of vivid description, we understand the personalities and the dynamics of this group.

And here, Jauffre fully redeems himself in my eyes (and foreshadows another moment which occurs at the end…):



I would point out all the other parts that sing to me, but I would have to quote everything.

One preference issue:



Two “finals” in close proximity. How about- “Finally, she took the resulting product and…”

That dream sequence was not only beautiful, but it also gave us some more info on Julian's mysterious past. Cieran was apprenticed to Morvayn? Emphasis on the was of course. The touch of her mother looking out to the harbor at 4pm every day as an especially delicious way of showing us the effect of Julian's father not being there, either because he abandoned them, or is dead.

Most of all however I felt the claw of Akatosh throughout this entire segment. In a very subtle way, you made it clear that Julian is not simply the right person in the right place, rather she has been claimed by Akatosh. Perhaps just as Martin's past has shaped him into the person the Empire needs most at this time, Julian's past has likewise done the same?

ARGH!!!!!!! Don't stop there!!!! You have to post the rest of this....ARGH !!!!!!!

I am holding my breath till the next post!!!! * mALX expires from lack of oxygen in front of PC, waiting for next installment of OHDH... *

Now there was a part which really shines out even in this piece. The dynamic of the group was spot on. The 'coiling' which might have something to do with Akatosh being introduced then appearing in the dream before a certain claw which suggests it might be more than a dream. Excellent stuff, and a bit more of her past. I think this is the first we've heard of a brother, certainly the first mention of more than his existance. It makes me wonder what happened, and if her mother's death was more than old age...


Perhaps Martin and Julian aren't the only ones being manipulated by the gods...

And that's quite a cliffhanger.

Okay, I’m back with my obligatory wall of text! I enjoyed so much about these last chapters that this is going to be a very LOOONNNNGGGGG post. You have been warned.

Chapter 14.3 The Shrine of Sheogorath

First I want to commend you on incorporating Gwinas’ directions into this chapter. They gave Julian a frame of reference outside of the combat and helped to bridge the gap in logic that says that there is no way that Julian would have been able to anticipate the Mad God’s offering demands.

I have to agree with trey that there was something slightly jarring about Julian’s need to cleanse the area of bandits. The explanation for her actions was both logical and well described, but there was an undertone to her actions that was both uncharacteristically cold and blood-thirsty. Could the distaste she feels for the task at hand be causing her to take her frustration out on the bandits she seeks to encounter on the road?

Chapter 14.4 Sheogorath’s Reward

Ah, the K’Sharra Prophecy. You already know how I feel about that! I know you are an animal lover, but come on . . . FLAMING DOGS!! IN A TOWN FULL OF CATS!!! I know that there is a perverse corner of your mind that registers a chuckle at the thought. On that note, it seems kind of strange to me that we feel empathy for the Khajiit of Borderwatch who suffer nothing more than a temporary fright and a long day cleaning up. We also feel for the sheep and the rats, who one way or another are going to end up dead at the Khajiit hands anyway. But we give no love to the poor, terribly mistreated and immolated DOGS! I am glad that Julian at least describes their dying as ‘sickening’.

You had me from S’thasa’s opening comments about the cheese (brilliant touch to have her make those comments to Julian over lunch!). Julian’s agonizing over ways to fulfill the conditions of the prophecy without killing the poor sheep (apparently the lot of livestock is no better in Tamriel than it is in, say, America) made her distaste with the whole task hit home. I thought the flashbacks to Ri’Bassa’s comments were great companion pieces to Gwinas’ directions in the last chapter and helped form a sense of continuity to the entire Sheogorath storyline. I wish you had included Ri'Bassa's reluctance at conveying the final part of the prophecy. It would have added to the build-up IMO. As it reads now there is something anti-climactic about the big event.

Chapter 14.5 Ardaline’s Staff

Now it all begins to make sense. First it was a return to Bravil and a confrontation with the demons of her past. Then it was her epic struggle against multiple enemies at Fort Grief that ultimately ended in failure. Following that it was her near relapse into the hell of addiction from which she thought herself free. Finally it was an unsavory task for a Daedric Prince that left her doubting her own purpose. I guess it is no surprise that Julian would lash out at random bandits on the road or terrorize a couple of civilians whose only crime was buying a staff from the wrong person. I stand in awe at the subtlety in which you have allowed Julian’s character to reveal itself to us in these last chapters. If it was intentional then you are bumping dangerously close to genius here. If it was a happy accident then I would advise acting like the dog who has just collided with the sliding glass door. Just shake yourself and walk away quietly like you meant for all the world to do exactly that!

Chapter 14.6 Order of the Virtuous Blood

‘Welcome to the hallowed halls of the Order of the Virtuous Blood. We are, for lack of a better term, vampire hunters . . . even though, until now, we have never actually found a vampire. It has, suspiciously and conveniently, come to our attention that Roland Jenseric is a vampire. What we want you to do is go out and kill him so that we can take the credit. Please.’

One of the things that I always admire about this story is the way that you seamlessly juxtapose in-game dialogue and Julian’s often tongue-in-cheek perception. Given the weight of responsibility that she has taken upon herself, and her tendency for melancholy, these moments of levity are a welcome respite.

I love this chestnut:

After emerging from hiding from the man who was ‘to strong’ to confront, Seridur returns to the garden to find the woman dead with two puncture wounds in her neck and it is only then that he realizes Jenseric is a vampire?!! The very thing he was supposedly out there hunting in the first place!! Methinks Seridur’s story should be wrapped in old copies of the Black Horse Courier and flung around the Waterfront for it doth emit the smell of slaughterfish!

On a completely unrelated side note: Deep-Throat made me laugh! And I don’t think that mALX has watched more porn than you. She has watched more old porn!

Chapter 14.7 Investigating Roland Jenseric

Like the others so ably pointed out, the conversations with Claudio and J’mhad really added a sense of depth and weight to the world that you present.

I admit that I found the fact that Julian had to ‘study’ Jenseric’s windows to ‘realize’ that they were uncovered a little strange. It felt like a definite ‘face-palm’ that I think you could have done more with, if for no other reason than to add a little seasoning to Julian’s methodical investigation. That is strictly a personal observation on my part.

Chapter 14.7 (again?) Return to Bravil

Let’s start with Vamori and Ardaline. I love the way that you have chosen to resolve this quest. Like the others said it is far more satisfying than the game’s resolution. My only issue (and it would be a very small one) is your portrayal of Vamori in the scene with Ardaline. He comes across as a little too one note to me. We get that Julian regards him as something of an ineffectual weasel, but that doesn’t mean that he should simply behave like one when getting dressed down by the woman he loves. He should be ecstatic that he accomplished his goal. Through both the hug and the slap, Ardaline is at last paying attention to him.

I would also once again caution Julian on her condescension toward men who step out of line. On her way out of the Mages Guild make sure that she steps down gently, we wouldn’t want her clay feet to break as she looks toward the skooma den!

Now the scene with Lerus is interesting. One can see the dilemma presented to her: resign her post and leave the people of Bravil to whoever the Count would name as her successor, or swallow her revulsion at certain of the Count’s crimes in order to remain at her post to protect the people of Bravil. I would not envy her that choice. SubRosa raises some interesting and valid points, ones that I am inclined to agree with as the story is written now. Perhaps, in a later chapter, we can be given some indication of the good that Lerus does while letting other things slide. That will help us to see her situation in a different light. I also disagree with your assessment of Lerus. I think that she is an incredibly strong character. That is why it is so maddening to see her constantly watching from the sidelines. The woman is a player, coach. Get her into the game!

The Count has dealings with both the Dark Brotherhood and the Marie Elena? Can we infer that Gaston Tussaud’s untimely demise was born of machinations begun in Castle Bravil?

Chapter 15.1 A Confession

trey might graciously give Jauffre a pass, but I won’t. Tell the Grandmaster that while he and all his pretty little Blades sit in Cloud Ruler sipping tea and eating roast lamb and mutton, Julian is the only one actually doing something about the Oblivion Crisis! His attitude grates on the nerves as much as Julian’s does toward men who are weaker than her. There is a certain justice in that, I suppose. It is certainly a testament to your skill that we care enough to get angry when we see Julian getting short shrift. I wouldn’t change anything about this chapter. As aggravating as Jauffre’s demeanor is, it still perfectly fits the character that you have developed.

I simply reserve the right to criticize him for it.

Chapter 15.2 A Hope for Healing

Finally!!! Treatment for that knee! Now we get to see what Julian at full strength is capable of. Daedra, silver tongue-tied lotharios, psychotic Orcs, and mischievous mages beware!!

The others may be willing to forgive Jauffre, but not me! The fact that he had such detailed reports of Julian’s actions yet still chose to berate and interrogate her shows a man with a pronounced streak of sadism in his make-up. Given her condition, both mental and physical, Jauffre comes across as nothing short of a bully in monk’s robes. Maybe Julian can convalesce in Bruma where she and Paint can get some relative peace.

Chapter 15.3 A Dream of Home

This chapter was simply remarkable. Julian’s reluctance to be rendered helpless and her inadvertent insult to Orania was so in character that my neck literally hurts from shaking my head in admiration. Jauffre’s new-found empathy and compassion slightly lowers my desire to hit him over the head with the Truncheon of Submission (but I still think he’s kind of a d*%#). Everything leading up to the dream-sequence worked perfectly.

‘Sun’s companion’ takes on meaning and weight while reading through Julian’s dream of home. We have all heard Julian mention her mother and brother on numerous occasions, but in this sequence we get a tantalizing hint of the tragic fate that awaits somewhere beyond the door to that simple cottage. The details that you chose to show us, like the mother’s longing gaze toward Anvil Harbor every day at the fourth bell, and the silver bracelet on her wrist that she never takes off, not to mention Cieran’s filling out from being apprenticed to Varel Morvayn are incredibly vivid and strike as truth against that tuning fork that we all possess inside. And the ending . . . with the scaled hand and hot breath of what I can only presume to be the Dragon of Time himself burning the back of her neck.

Beautiful.

Magnificent, Rider. Powerful, beautiful, revealing.

What a beautiful description of Julian's home overlooking the Strid River valley and the Abecean!

It was brilliant to use the occasion of Julian's anethesia / surgery to introduce her dream. It was emotional to read. I'm sure it was even more so to write.

I love what seems to be a reference to the presence of Akatosh with Julian.

Here's hoping her knee gets better!

This was so good, I have even exiled Mr. Dhertee Innu Endo....temporarily....

The dream sequence part was very vivd. It felt a lot like the part in the movie "Gladiator" where Maximus dies and returns to his wife and child who were so brutally murdered. Powerful and very emotional.

Just beautifully written. Can't wait for the continuation.

@hazmick: I hope you didn’t have to go to the ER! Perhaps a seat belt will help the next time?

@treydog: Thanks for forgiving Jauffre! I’m glad you were moved by the “dream sequence.” We will find out just exactly what it is.

@SubRosa: We’ll see just how right you are!

@MALX: Oh, where are the hunky paramedics when you need ‘em!

@Olen: You’ll find out the fates of mother and brother in a couple more segments . . .

@Destri: Thanks for the wall o’ text. I now forgive you for being absent for so long! Actually, I knew you would more than make up for it, and it’s always good to get the overall summary (as you and trey have done) to help me keep the big picture in mind. You’ve mentioned Julian’s aversion to bandits. You’ll see when she visits Anvil (Flashback City!) in a future chapter. Some of the elements from her anesthesia/dream that you pointed out will also be picked up again during Julian’s visit to Anvil.

@Acadian: I’m glad you felt the emotion in this piece. I usually don’t cry when I write the tragic stuff, but I went through half a box of kleenex when I wrote this one! I guess it goes to show just how much I care about this character.

@Fox: Why, oh why did you feel the need to exile DIE? He's always welcome here, you know?

@Remko: The cinematography in the scene you describe is one of the most stunning sequences I’ve ever seen, and it is what made that movie a keeper for me (otherwise it would just have been another dull story about a boring noble general). While I didn’t have it in mind when I wrote this piece, there is no doubt that the impression it left on me has been of some influence.

Julian gets encouraging news when she wakes up.

*******************
Chapter 15.4 - Waking to Hope

“Easy, Julian, you’re safe,” the rough voice brought me back to Cloud Ruler Temple. “You’re home.” I saw Captain Steffan’s blue gaze past his hand on my shoulder. My breath caught in my throat, and I realized that my cheeks were wet.

My left hand came up to wipe the tears away, and I shook my head. “I was home,” I murmured. “Now I’m not.” After a moment, Steffan’s hand squeezed my shoulder comfortingly, then he was gone.

Cirroc looked up from bandaging my knee. “Are you feeling any pain right now?” he asked. “Selena can make up some more of the willowbark potion for you.”

Taking another shaky breath, I considered Cirroc’s question. My right knee felt sore, as if it had been wrenched apart and put back together again, but that stabbing pain was gone. “It’s just achy,” I responded when I felt sure of my breathing. When I moved to sit up, Cirroc pushed me back down.

“You can’t move that leg for two days, now,” he warned me. “Not even to bend it.” He pointed at the stiff structure that encased my leg from hip to ankle. “I’ve splinted your leg to make sure you don’t.”

“Two days?” Quailing at the thought of being abed for that long a period of time, I looked up at Cirroc. “Can’t we speed up the process a bit?”

“And undo all the progress I’ve made?” his retort was oddly reassuring.

“So it’s going to be fine?” I hardly dared to hope. After so long - I let my breath out when he nodded.

“It looked good when I finished,” he assured me. Then his gaze sharpened and he shook his finger at me. “But you need to do the rest of the work, now. Stay off that leg for two days, no less.”

I looked around, not seeing the elegant Alchemist. “Where is Orania?” I asked. Cirroc looked up from his packing.

“She’s in the kitchen, with -” he looked upwards a moment, “ah, Jena, I believe? They’re working on preparing potions for the next couple days, to keep you comfortable.” He nodded at the splinted limb. “There is going to be a lot of inflammation. Part of that is due to damage, and my cutting away the excess scar tissue, but part of that will be due to healing. It’ll hurt, then it will itch like crazy.” He rose to his full height, looking down at me, his pack slung over his shoulder. “Believe me, you’ll be grateful for those potions, as horrid as they may taste.”

I groaned. “More of that vile stuff she made for me?” Cirroc chuckled, shaking his head.

“You’ll have to ask Orania, but it’s not quite the same thing,” he answered. “I don’t think it has the Alik’r lophophora.” He reached down and gripped my shoulder. “It won’t taste nearly as bad as that, I promise.”

As his footsteps receded down the Great Hall, I heard him pause as another approached him, the murmur of voices whispering through the great raftered space. I looked up at the huge beams overhead, the rows of katanas glimmering in the grey light pouring in through the clerestory windows above. What was that dream? Vision? Mother and Cieran haven’t aged a day, but I felt every day of the last - what? - Twenty-nine years? And what was that at the end there? Holding me back from them? Why?

“Julian?” Orania’s approach brought me back to the present. Her concerned gaze met mine. “You had a rough awakening,” she continued, her tone worried. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.” She set the vials in her hands down on the little table at the foot of my cot. “You were supposed to have good dreams.”

I smiled faintly at her. “It was good,” I answered. “Not your fault I woke up the way I did. I just didn’t want it to end, that’s all.”

Orania slid a quick glance at me that I found unsettling, then she looked down at the mug in her hand, emptying a vial into it. She filled it the rest of the way with the tea still simmering on the fire. She brought the mug to me, sitting down next to me and propping me up on the cushions so I could sip at the hot liquid.

“Is this the same foul stuff you gave me before?” I asked warily. She smiled and shook her head.

“Not quite,” she answered. “Just some willow bark and lavender sprig. It’s the lophophora that gives the other potion that vile taste.”

I drank the tea, and tasted the bitterness of the potion. Still, it was not as disagreeable as the anesthetizing potion Orania had given me earlier. The tea helped smooth out the acridity.

“I want you to take a dose of this,” she gestured at the vials on the table, “with some tea every eight hours. The tea will help it work more effectively. Don’t drink any of the klah, though - it is too stimulating.” Orania watched me drink a little more of the concoction. “I was surprised to see you here, Julian,” she said finally.

“Oh?” I glanced at her. “I’m a soldier, why wouldn’t I be closing Oblivion Gates?”

“That doesn’t surprise me, not after the riot act you read the young ones two weeks ago,” Orania retorted. “No, I’m surprised that as hurt as you were, you dragged yourself all the way up here, to such a remote outpost, when you could have come to the Mages Guild, or even to the Chapel.”

Ouch. “Well,” I tried to figure out how to explain why I ended up at Cloud Ruler Temple without revealing my membership in the Blades.

“You’re a Blade sister, aren’t you?” Orania crossed her arms. Shooting a glance at her face, I thought I could see disapproval in her gaze. “And joining the Mages Guild is just your cover?”

I closed my eyes. “It’s more than just a cover,” I murmured into the steaming tea. After I drank down the last of it, I met her gaze again. “I know you don’t believe it, but I’ve got to learn how to live on my own.” I shook my head. “I’ve got to improve my restoration and alchemy skills. The Legion is no longer part of my life, but that doesn’t mean I will forget how to fight for the weak and helpless.” The cup in my lap, I looked down at my hands. “I’ve spent too many years serving Akatosh to turn my back on those teachings now.”

In my mind’s eye, I stared at the closed door of my childhood home, felt the taloned hand on my shoulder, heard the raspy breathing at my back. In my peripheral vision, I saw my shadow stretching away eastward on the amber grass, and the immense shadow of the One who stood behind me, crouched down to my level.

I caught my breath again at the memory of that shape, feeling my eyes widen. At that moment, that something coiled in my gut again. Akatosh, that was you? Are you truly with me? The significance of his presence hit me then. Am I going to need you for what comes next?

Orania touched my arm lightly. With a shake that brought myself back into the present, I looked at her. “Are you all right, Julian?” she asked.

“I just realized something,” I responded quietly. “Something that scares me.” I shook my head. “I’m not sure I understand it.” My eyes dropped to the empty mug in my hands as I rolled it between my palms. “I’ll have to think about it.”

“You’ll have time to think about it, Julian,” Orania said quietly, plucking the mug from my hands and rising. She set it softly down on the table, next to the vials. Dusting her hands on each other, she turned back to me, her expression dark. “I won’t tell the others about the Blades,” she said. “I’ll keep your secret.” Picking up her pack, she slung it at her back. “I’ll be back in a couple of days to restock those potions. You’ll need more, then.”

I liked "Gladiator" entirely but that's because there was fightingandbloodandgoreandnandandwellboysstuff in it but that particular scene lifted it above the average noble general stuff movie, I agree.

Aaargg.. No answer who's hand it as that held her back. Was it just a pleasant dream or was it something more? (NDE springs to mind)

Don't keep us in suspense too long

Yes, there are all kinds of “safety” and “comfort.” And some of them are only accessible to us through dreams- or memories.



The Julian Credo?

One of the most intriguing moments in this episode is Orania's ambiguous reaction to the Blades... One might think there is some history there...

Your life experience with healing and recovery again shows; but in a way that is entirely appropriate to the story and the setting. And Julian's growing awareness that she is- perhaps not an avatar- but certainly a champion-in-the-making for a certain draconic divine- delicious.

A nice simple segment that both brings us up to speed on Julian physically, but also sees her grappling with the significance of her vision.

Akatosh, that was you? Are you truly with me? The significance of his presence hit me then. Am I going to need you for what comes next?
I get the feeling it is a yes on both counts. Unless Dragon is Julian's spirit-guide.