’Jerric knelt in a doorway high in the Sigil Keep, looking in at the pillar of fire. The livid, membranous floor told him he had reached the uppermost chamber. Two staircases with steps like severed claws arched up to meet on the next, open level. Above that, Jerric knew there would be two ramps to the final platform where the Sigil Stone hovered in its frame, powering the Gate.’
What a well-crafted opening! Like a superb appetizer. You provide plenty of answers while instilling a hunger to read more.

Well described deadly encounters up in the Sigil Keep.

’Darnand took the humming stone and handed Jerric a water skin.’
This struck me as what Jerric would consider a fair trade. Those Deadlands are so hot that I must agree.

I then promptly forgot about the Sigil stone and focused on the wonderful interactions outside the dead gate at the campsite. It took me rereading the passage where Darnand is describing the Sigil Stone a couple times to sort out what Darnand was talking about. At first, I thought he was trying to tell Jerric about some new fangled magic. Once I figured out he was talking about the Sigil Stone, I thought the description of its twin/alternate effects was extremely well put. The lead up, where Darnand is anxious to tell Jerric something, was just a tiny bit too subtle for this old paladin to clue on. For me, when Darnand was balancing his coffee and buiscuit would have been the time to perhaps having him turning the Sigil Stone in his hand instead so we would know what subject was coming. More likely my simple reading skills rather than your fine writing.

I loved the banter between Darnand and Jerric, especially in the latter parts of this episode.

Acadian: Oops! I changed it to this:

Jerric watched Darnand for a moment while he chewed. He wondered where his friend had stashed the Sigil Stone. As anxious as he was to ask about it, he thought Darnand might be more impatient to tell him.

That was not supposed to be a mystery. I was so focused on explaining the enchantment, I forgot to mention the stone. Thank you so much for pointing that out!!

Hmmmm, another deep and insightful episode by Grits.

The true test of whether a writer can write - I've said if before but I'll say it again - lies in whether his/her characters haunt the waking imagination of the reader.

Jerric haunts mine. And now Darnand, and Abilene, are beginning to do so, too.

"Abilene...Abilene...prettiest town that I've ever seen. Women there don't treat you mean, in Abilene; my Abilene..."

Very powerfully written chapter, and the uneasy quasi-bickering between Jerric and Darnand to relieve the tension was absolutely perfect and appropos for the aftermath of the beginning of the chapter - Awesome Write !! Of course my fave line is (the perfuming to cover the leavings of the previous...) - sounds like a lot lizard that works the local truck stop around here, lol.

I must admit I find it easy to forget that Jerric's become a Master Alchemist is a by-product of his Atronach birth-sign. It struck me as strange that Jerric the sword guy is helping Darnand the magic guy with his Alchemy on the first reading - I need reminding.

“Cheese or sausage?”

Jerric took both biscuits.

Perfect!

BAD GIRL!!!!

Ah, back to the gates again. I am half surprised that Darnand did not go in the gate with Jerric. Although given the stealth that Jerric was using, perhaps Lildreth would have been more assistance? It is nice to see someone sneaking past the daedra, and then just making a quick dash for the sigil stone, rather than simply killing everything they come across.

We can crack our teeth on Legion biscuits for dinner
Hardtack!

and alchemy will simply become a skill accessible to all
Or just like enchanting, which only requires you to put your coins in the slot, and then pull the levers for the enchantment you want.

Chapter10.18
What’s with Jerric’s bizarre reaction? I’m afraid I’m not entirely sure what happened there.
Oh boy. I understand why she wants to keep the little outings a secret and why he feels like she’s ashamed of him (which she may or may not be, but I suspect she doesn’t want certain people to see her with Jerric).

Careful with the knees!

And hurray I have caught up!

First off, congratulations! Jerric's character type is one I usually... not necessarily *dislike* but find it very hard to identify with. But you've added on enough of your own touches and enough small twists on and subversions of the big hulking brute archetype that I'm very interested! I also love how we see a lot of development on Jerric's part, in particular in the influence that Kvatch has had on him - I literally cried through some of those scenes, you know! - and how he deals with Oblivion Gates. I *love* the tactical assessment and planning he does with Darnand and Rhano, as well as the fact that Jerric still isn't strong enough to deal with everything... and on the Darnand front can I say how nice it is to have some companions for the lone hero of TES games! There's no reason why he shouldn't have a partner, after all.

Regarding this chapter - I'm seconding what's already been said about how it's nice to see a hero sneaking and *running* for it and just grabbing the stone instead of killing everything. And this bit made me laugh:



(oh right, speaking of which, one last thing that really struck me when I was reading - Chillrend, and in particular how Jerric lost it. Because that sort of misadventure doesn't really happen in-game, I think it's easy to have our characters stick with the same cool equipment until we find them something better. Having Jerric stumble across a cool magic sword, and then lose it, and not immediately find something better - that was a cool touch of realism!)

Chapter 11
It’s not loot it’s salvage. Lol.

Fort Strand is coming up! Now I’ll see who the archer is.

Darnand seems to be coming around again. He doesn’t seem to mind the questions about necromancy.
And he’s fallen back into his tutor role for Jerric.

“Why didn’t we ride to Whitmond?”
Astonishment flooded Darnand’s face. “You invited me to walk to Whitmond with you.”


Giving a skeleton summon a better weapon sounds like a really neat idea.

Chapter 11.2
“You’ll be able to stand behind me and shoot between my knees,” Jerric told her.

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

I really like this Bosmer.

These plans are almost as fun as execution. Precious the scamp? I had a picture of Gollum appear in my mind.

I hope Lildereth becomes a regular character.

Chapter 11.3
and an excellent target for a prank
I like Jerric’s line of thinking

Excellent passage. When the bosmer went ahead Jerric got jumpy. That’s so like him.
And yes a shorter blade will be much more useful in the cramped cave.

I’d love to move on right now but I’ll have to save the zombie butchery for another time.

Chapter 11.4
I think Darnand’s daedroth would be extremely effective against the zombies, but maybe we don’t want the mess and memories associated with that particular summon.

Very enjoyable action sequence. I would think that those would be very difficult to write. I pictured the whole thing in my mind quite clearly.

Jerric and his customary clearing of his stomach. I’m glad the bosmer either was polite to not comment or understood.

Fantastic ending. His fingers twitched, waiting for him to fill them with frost.

And it just occurred to me, Lildereth is very different from the usual Mage’s Guild member. She mixes magic with stealth and combat quite effectively. It seems the Dark Brotherhood would be a better fit for all but perhaps morals.

Chapter 11.5
Wow that was fast! The tree of them made short work of that crew.

Oh and my favorite line of the chapter: Jerric snorted. “Kept her head.”

I spoke too soon! “I expect it also saves her from numerous social obligations and encumbering friendships,” Darnand remarked softly.
Darnand just scored more points in my book!

These past few episodes have been wonderful!

Chapter 11.6
The fight against the skeletons was a lot of fun. It’s nice seeing everyone doing what they can to fight, even Lildereth lending a hand.

Lildereth went into this sounding a lot like a mercenary, meaning I wasn’t really counting on her to do anything when the fights broke out. Her little flare toss in the middle did a lot to reassure me.

Those three make a great team.

Then at the end Darnand’s appetite for knowledge catches up with him.

Acadian: Thank you for your kind words about the opening paragraph. That was the last part of this section to come together. I knew I wanted to jump right in, but without completely disorienting everyone. (Like I did later. ) I’m so sorry about the confusion when Darnand started in about the Sigil Stone without any warning. Some new fangled magic is the perfect first guess as to what he was talking about, given what we know about him. I’m thrilled that you thought that, even though I’m sorry about the head-scratching I gave you. I really didn’t mean to! This is a good lesson for me to remember when he is bringing up his new ideas. Thank you for drawing it so gently to my attention.

D. Foxy: I have occasionally wondered what the hell I was thinking, trying to tell this story. Maybe I should have started with a story about a bake sale. Thank you so much, Foxy.

mALX: I’m laughing about the lot lizard. There are some times when sunny optimism can work against you. Is this meat still good? is one of those times. Also, Should I hit that? If you have to ask... Thank you for pointing out the tone of their morning chat. They’ve reached the point where they can be grumpy with each other and not have to worry about misunderstandings. The three days outside the Gate were hard on Darnand.

ghastley: Darnand would like to forget that Jerric has surpassed him in alchemy. I added this:

Say, look in my pack and get out my mortar and pestle. Felen gave them to me for Saturalia. You know, since I made Master of Alchemy.” Jerric couldn’t resist the little dig.

I’ll try to remember to put a reminder in when Jerric starts slinging massive spells around, too. That would also be impossible without his birthsign. Thank you very much for mentioning this!!

SubRosa: Our Apprentice birthsign mage is not Deadlands ready, but I’m glad you mentioned the possibility. Three days of fighting daedra with the soldiers taught him a lot. Lildereth wouldn’t risk the Deadlands for Jerric. She would wish him well, remind him of his boot heels, and melt into the trees. Besides, she has the dog to think of. Jerric is not the most qualified, he’s just the most willing. Thank you for pointing out his new, conservative tactics. He’s learning!

King Coin: Jerric has a big problem with illusion spells, because they trick the mind into believing something that isn’t real. When he realized what Abiene’s light spell was actually doing, his first impulse was to deck her so that it would stop. Of course, it wouldn’t have ended the spell and thankfully he stopped himself, but that was his gut reaction. This is one place where he would agree with Rhano about magic. You are right about Abiene’s unspoken reason for not openly, um, dating Jerric.

Chapter 11, now you’ve met Lildereth! I’m glad you like her. The walk to Whitmond was a facepalm for Darnand. Preoccupied and overconfident can be a bad combination! The daedroth would have torn through the zombies, but they were still trying to be as stealthy as they could. I imagine a daedroth’s roar would echo throughout the ruin. Plus they were supposed to be practicing not burning each other to death or disemboweling each other in combat. You are right about Lildereth’s somewhat menacing skill set. She’s the stuff of Jerric’s nightmares. That flare toss meant a lot to the other two, I’m glad you pointed it out.

Kazaera: Welcome to the story!! I am so delighted that you are reading, especially since Jerric might not be your usual choice of hero. I appreciate you looking past the big, hulking qualities and giving him a chance. I hope very much that he and his friends can keep your interest.

I’m glad you liked the Chillrend mishap. It was the perfect sword for him, and I still feel bad about taking it away. But it added much more to the story for him to lose it, so it had to go.

Where we are: On the way to Kvatch, the Jerric and Darnand found a Gate. Jerric closed it while Darnand assisted the Legion’s and Kvatch County Militia’s defense.



Chapter 12: Return to Kvatch, Part 4

Jerric rode along the Gold Road, looking up at the Kvatch plateau. The city walls stood stark against the midday sky, no longer softened by the great trees that once grew inside the south wall. On my street, Jerric thought. Outside my windows. He had the feeling that his now and before weren’t really connected. They couldn’t both be real.

A word from Darnand brought him back. It doesn’t matter what he said, Jerric realized. Just that he said something.

“Kip,” Darnand said, nodding at Jerric’s mount. “Clesa chose well for you.”

“Yeah.” Jerric gave Kip’s neck a pat. The tractable gelding did not challenge Jerric’s limited skills, and he and Flash seemed to have a settling influence on Banner. Moments later they reached the junction and turned the horses toward Kvatch.

Before they reached the first switchback, they found traffic halted at a wooden barrier across the road. There was room on either side for a wagon to pass, one going in each direction. A man in leather armor waved a woodcutter with his loaded cart through the right side and on toward Kvatch. The two archers in front of Jerric and Darnand walked through next, showing the soldier some papers. The man’s black wolf armband told Jerric he was a member of the Kvatch militia. His spotless jerkin and fresh face marked him as a new recruit.

The soldier looked up at Jerric and Darnand, holding his palm out to halt them. They waited while an empty ox cart rumbled past on the other side of the road. “Papers?” he asked in a friendly tone.

“No,” said Jerric.

“All right, then.” The youth gestured through the barricade. “You’ll need to get your permits at the next checkpoint. New security procedure, keeps out the scoundrels and riffraff. No one breaks the law in Kvatch these days, at least not more than once. Will you need to board your horses?”

Jerric nodded.

“There’s no stable at the plateau,” said the guard. “Are you familiar with the old wholesale market?”

“Yeah,” said Jerric. “I know it.”

“Well some of it’s still market space, but most of the back is taken up now by the militia encampment. If you go past Butchers Row you’ll find the road around to the livery stable. It’s the same as before. You’ll need your papers to get any farther up the road, and I doubt they’ll let you…” The soldier’s voice trailed off when his wandering eyes found Jerric’s Wolf shield. He stood silent for a long moment looking at Jerric and Kip, then over at Darnand on Banner, and finally at Flash. “I expect they’ll let you ride all the way into the throne room, if you like, sir,” he gulped. His wide eyes held more than Jerric wanted to see. Jerric nudged Kip back into a walk, leading Flash through the barrier. Darnand and Banner followed.

When they stopped outside the livery stable, a Bosmeri lass approached to hold the horses. Jerric guessed from her relatively clean boots and slight frame that she was not in the muck-shifting end of the business. Darnand started toward the stable office to make arrangements, by their unspoken agreement. Jerric couldn’t shake the feeling that suggesting a lower price to a merchant was the same as calling him a liar, while Darnand seemed to believe they should work as hard to keep their coins as they had to earn them.

Jerric’s eyes followed the road to where it disappeared around the bluff toward Tannertown and Pottersville. He guessed that the new Running Wolf stables must lie in that direction.

“Will you be staying in the city?” The Bosmer looked up at Jerric with a smile as quiet as her voice. Her eyes, skin, and hair were all almost the same light brown. That coloring would be dull on a human, Jerric decided. But there’s no way to make a Bosmer un-lively, once the cheer comes out in them.

“Yeah,” he replied. “I’m Jerric.”

“I am Tilenwen.”

“Pleased to meet you. We’ll be here about a week, probably. Maybe less.”

Tilenwen nodded to their packs. “You should bring your gear up with you, it is likely that you will be more comfortable in your own tent. I will be happy to accompany you to the plateau, then bring your pack horse back to the stable.”

“That’s Flash. The bay is Banner, and this chestnut is Kip. Sounds like a good plan, Tilenwen.”

“Kip is a flaxen chestnut,” Tilenwen corrected him. Her voice seemed to hold the horses in some kind of thrall as she spoke to them.

By the time Jerric had shifted their saddle bags, Darnand had returned with an Imperial stable boy. The lad walked away with Kip and Banner while Flash nickered after them. Tilenwen led them back to the Kvatch Road.

Not far up the switchbacks they encountered a more heavily guarded barrier. Tilenwen directed them to a small, orderly group of tents set off to the side. One had a rough table placed in front under a simple canvas awning. Jerric and Darnand joined the line waiting to give their names to the official seated at the table. This tent had a wooden platform floor, framed walls, and pitched ceiling covered in canvas panels. Jerric decided that the rows of wedge-shaped tents in the encampment must be used for sleeping, while these framed tents were where most business and living were conducted.

The men stood silently, moving with the line until it was their turn to step forward. “Name?” asked the Dunmer woman at the table.

“Darnand Penoit of Anvil in County Anvil, mage, Associate of the Mages Guild. I wish to visit Kvatch on Mages Guild business. I intend to stay for several days, at the least.” Jerric realized that while his mind had been wandering, Darnand had been paying attention.

The mer wrote in her ledger, then retrieved a paper from one of her stacks and filled in the blanks. She rolled it and handed it to Darnand. “That covers it. Here is your visitor’s permit, keep it with you. You will need to see me again if you are here for longer than one week. Enjoy your stay.” Darnand stepped to the side, and the mer’s eyes went to Jerric. She took a moment looking over the various weapons he had belted and strapped about his person. “Let me guess. Lace maker?”

Jerric cleared his throat. “Jerric of… Kvatch. Battlemage. Associate of the Mages Guild and Apprentice of the Fighters Guild. Uh, the rest is the same as his.”

The Dunmer’s quill remained frozen in the air as a series of emotions passed over her face. She ended on consternation. “Sir, if you are a city resident, you do not require a visitor’s permit. Apologies. Are you returning to live in Kvatch?”

Jerric wished he had thought to say he was Rhano from Anvil, though he supposed the Wolf on his shield would object. “Uh, not at this time. What do you need to know?”

“Nothing,” she said, still flustered. “I will issue a permit in case someone asks you for it, but Steward Matius will want to give you residency papers. I am certain that by tonight, no one will question you again. There is a curfew inside the city. After sundown everyone must remain indoors unless they clear it with Captain Inian. The plateau and lower encampment are patrolled night and day, your goods will be safe where you leave them. Work and sales permits are issued by Steward Matius or the Guilds. He will want to see you anyway, sir. If you have any mail, it will be with the Steward.” She rolled up his permit and handed it over the table.

“Thank you,” Jerric said. He found that space opened around them as they made their way to Flash and Tilenwen. Jerric and Darnand showed their papers to the guard, then tucked them away as they walked through the barricade.

Tilenwen chatted as they moved into the old refugee camp. She gestured to the rows of tents that lined the south and east sides of the area. “Here is where the builders dwell. They have their own cookhouse, tavern, and laundry. Many wish to send for their families and become residents of Kvatch, but Steward Matius will not allow it until conditions are safer inside the walls. It is a source of some contention.” She nodded to the row of tents that backed up to the cliff side. These were the taller, framed and walled type. “Here are the smiths, cooper, wheelwright, the armorer… You must know Batul, Jerric.”

“Yeah.” Jerric decided to wait to give his gear to Batul. After was the only way he could think of it. Dread weighed each step, even as it pulled him up toward the city.

“Watch out!” Tilenwen cried as a mule cart rattled past. “Pee wagon. The drains to Tannertown are still blocked. You can follow your nose to the privies, but the tanners will be happy if you use the piss pots when you can.”

Jerric glanced at the barrels in the wagon bed, then shared a look with Darnand.

“I thought it was said that dreck rolls down hill,” Darnand remarked. Jerric couldn’t laugh, but he appreciated his friend’s effort.

When they reached the plateau, Tilenwen led them to the side and halted. Jerric looked around, taking in the changes. No sign of the Gate remained but the hardened ground in front of the city gates. All of the dead trees had been removed. The city walls showed no signs of fire, but the damage where the siege crawler had gone over the walls was still evident. The city gates had been replaced. They stood open. Jerric forced his eyes away.

“Welcome to Kvatch Village,” said Tilenwen. She began to point out the landmarks. “There are your market tents, around that little square. Over there to the east is where folk sleep, and the laundry is at the back on the edge of the plateau. There is a new well on that side. The big fire is Carmia’s Cookhouse. That long tent is the meeting hall. All are welcome there.” Now she pointed to their left. “Over there is where you will find most of the guild representatives and some of the craftsmen. They hang their banners outside, or anyone can direct you. The Mages Guild operates inside the city. You will find the bathhouse and brothel at the far edge, near the old well.” She indicated the broad, open area between the road and the city gates. “Here is where the supply wagons stop, even the ones who unload inside the city. It would be a poor place to set up your camp.”

Carmia’s Cookhouse, thought Jerric. That’s a good place to start. He didn’t have any words, so he started piling their packs off to the side, out of the way.

Darnand thanked Tilenwen with some coins while Jerric gave Flash a farewell carrot and a rub on the neck. Darnand stood beside Jerric for a moment before he spoke. “I suggest we speak to an official before we decide where to locate our tent.”

“Yeah,” said Jerric. “I have an old friend to visit before I go in to the guild hall. You start without me. I’ll catch up.”

Darnand gave him a long look. Then he nodded and walked off toward the city gates.

Jerric went directly to the big fire. It was actually several low fires grouped together, each with some cauldron or spit arranged near it. The spits were empty, but Jerric’s nose told him that there was venison in at least one of the pots.

Carmia’s face creased into a smile when she saw him. She tucked her spoon into a deep apron pocket and put out her arms for a hug.

There’s something different about her, Jerric thought as he set her back on her feet. He realized as she pulled away. “You don’t chew garlic anymore!”

“Not with a chapel nearby, I don’t have to worry about everyone’s diseases. Among other things.” She crossed her arms under her bosom and got right to the point. “You were right to send me here. Lavina goes to school in the mornings, and afternoons she helps me or the weavers. She carries Jerric the Doll in a pouch on her back. Says she can’t wait for the babies to start coming, she’s going to open a nursery so their mamas can work. She makes scratches in the dirt with a stick, showing all of her plans. Faustino is a hunter, I couldn’t get him to stay in school. Mostly keeping the rats out of the ruins with that sling you gave him, but some down in the woods. He’s training with a bow. That Altmer fellow from the Guard is teaching him.”

“Merandil?”

“That’s right, of course you know him. Faustino says the day he turns eighteen, he’s going to put on the Wolf, if they’ll have him.” Carmia wiped her eyes on the edge of her apron. “My boy in the city guard, Jerric. You know I did what I had to so I could get by. Who would think a child of mine would stand tall for what’s right.”

Jerric had a hard time believing it himself. Gnoll’s Meeting Camp had been the home of a vicious bandit clan before Carmia and others there fought to change it. Much of her life was a tale of lawlessness and violence.

“Well, don’t let him get ahead of himself,” Jerric said. “Tell him he’s a scout. If he sees a Gate somewhere, he needs to stay alive and bring word to the Guard. Not take on a bunch of daedra with a sling.”

Carmia nodded. “I tell him the like every morning that he goes off the plateau. That boy is his father’s son, though he never knew him.” Jerric saw her mouth close on the rest of what she was going to say.

Jerric nodded toward the city. “What’s going on in there?”

“It’s bad, I won’t pretend otherwise. I’ve done some shifts in the ruins, as much as I can. Those that are from here, some you can tell by their empty eyes. We won’t see it set right in our lifetime. Steward Matius can explain the plans, I wouldn’t know much. But I can tell you folk are broken down with sorrow, and some don’t want to live. Matilene has men that come to her just so she’ll hold them while they weep. Irmarus Hetarian jumped off the plateau on North Wind’s Prayer, don’t know if you knew him. A few have wandered away, but I expect the rest aim to stay here.”

“Yeah.” Jerric looked at his boots, ashamed at which group he belonged to. “I guess I’ll go along now. I’ll see you later when you ring your dinner bell. You said Matilene’s here?”

Carmia hugged him again. “She runs the bathhouse and brothel, though for now it’s just tents.” Carmia gestured to the plateau’s far western edge with one arm, her other still wrapped around his waist. “Over there. Go see her, you could stand a bath.”

“I will. Thank you.” Jerric disentangled himself. “It’s good to see you here, Carmia.”

Carmia stepped back, wiping her eyes again. She lifted her chin with the pride he used to think was just stubbornness. “I already know you won’t be staying this time. But I live in Kvatch now. I’ll be here to welcome you, when you come back.”

Oh wow, this was *amazing*. Seriously, I am in awe. How things have changed with more people coming in, the refugee encampment expanded and becoming more permanent, how they're starting to move back into the city and new tensions that have arisen... then the way people react to Jerric as a Kvatch native, his shame at being one of those who left along with the evident pain this place carries for him that means he just can't stay, and also the talk about how the loss has affected other Kvatchians... this is such a perfect picture of Kvatch at the start of the monumental task of rebuilding.

(One thing I wasn't quite clear on when I was reading was why the security in terms of permits and all that? I thought about it and guessed that they must be trying to keep out looters, gawkers and other people who wouldn't contribute, but I might be wrong and I found the question distracting from the story.)

Finally, the last sentence was just absolutely perfect. Carmia - and not only her, I'm guessing - knows that Jerric can't stay yet but will be here when he's ready.

Thank you, thank you, thank you!

This is what Kvatch deserves, after being so ruthlessly slaughtered then abandoned and ignored by Beth developers. I always hated that even fires didn't stop after the Crisis was over. It always made it difficult to role-play much past the end of the MQ on the 360. Now that I'm playing it on the PC (Mac), I can't wait to load up Kvatch Rebuilt and restore that poor town!

You have done a bang-up job showing the monumental task confronting the survivors and the issues facing them in the days and years to come. I loved seeing Carmia again, and hearing about the kids. How wonderful that Jerric was able to convince her to come and make a new start in the ruined city. Kvatch (and my favorite hero, Savlian Matius) needs all the good people they can get.

I look forward to more. Oh, and loved the screenie of Kip and Banner.

What a well-done return to Kvatch, showing the slow progress of rebuilding! You clearly show us what is going through Jerric's mind without him having to tell us.


Let me offer you a couple quotes:

’The Dunmer’s quill remained frozen in the air as a series of emotions passed over her face. She ended on consternation.’
‘Darnand thanked Tilenwen with some coins while Jerric gave Flash a farewell carrot and a rub on the neck.’

You captured me with both of these because they so nicely highlight your skill with natural description and connective action. You show us what is going on in a delightfully creative way.

Chapter 11.7
He buried the mort flesh? I appreciate the sediment but Darnand has a point. Then again Aravi won’t even collect the stuff.

Zombie rats. Lol. Reminds me of a book I read. Sound like quality literature already doesn't it?

Master alchemist! Darnand is going to be jealous.

Darnand gave him a critical once-over. “Dampen your hair and comb it. You could stand to scrub your neck. By all that is good in this life, I pray you have brought a different shirt. Your trousers are adequate, though you should try to keep your legs under a table if you must wear them. You smell… acceptable.”


Darnand is such a wonderful character.

Sounds like Lildereth is a typical bosmer in that regard.

And I just passed my first comment! I must be getting close to caught up.

Chapter 11.8
I bet Lildereth regrets letting Jerric have access to her lockpicks!

I thoroughly enjoyed Darnand’s little prank. And Jerric’s comments of Lildereth riding in his pack

You claim this is your first story? You lie!

Lildereth’s in a good position to tag along with Jerric and Darnand… if she could possibly stand to lol.

Once again your eye for the perfect detail has brought Kvatch to life and made what happened there feel real and current. Absolutely AWESOME WRITE !!! (and I loved the little glimpse into how Carmia is doing since we last heard of her !!!) AWESOME WRITE !!! WOOOOOOOOOT !!!!!!

Jerric's musing at the beginning - that the Kvatch of his memories was not that which remained - was excellent. It was an excellent reminder that it was indeed his home.

So it looks like the Gestapo has taken over Kvatch? I almost expected the brownshirt to give Jerric the Heil Hitler salute once he realized who he was! Aside from the Nazi's who have taken over the place (and I presume are packing off those 'undesirables' to the showers, never to seen again) it is nice to see some real progress in the restoration of the city, urine and all. It was especially good to see Carmia again. She and the others from Gnoll's Meeting Camp are doing well. A good example of how to make lemonade after life gives you lemons.

Chapter 11.9
The ------- daedroth? They’re crazy!

That thing almost had a nord to eat. That was a terrible idea.

I don’t suppose Darnand has a fond nickname for that mountain of horror? Or is that just a Jerric thing?

A redguard admitting spells are the way to go? I’m shocked!

Well I guess Abiene likes to get creative. To put it mildly.

Chapter 11.10
Hilarious little story.

They’re all smartasses. Lol.

Nice fight. I’m not sure what the original plan that Jerric deviated from was though. Wait I just remembered that the Bosmer (I can never get her name without copy/paste) said wait for the signal.

Did Jerric ever give Slim a new ax?
Pooch!

These three are awesome together!

Chapter 11.11
Jerric should keep that ring off most of the time. He should slip it on every 20 – 30 feet just to keep himself updated on his surroundings.

His hesitation to kill the Altmer is interesting. He’s finally made his choice though I don’t see it as murder. Always easy to decide sitting cozy in my chair with iced tea at hand and nowhere near danger.

I’ve had similar thoughts about elves and the centuries of life disappearing when Aravi kills them.

Jerric and his appetite for rat. Ugh

GAH! Illusion on Jerric! I was not expecting that at ALL!

That’s always been an effect I’ve never worried about… Excellent. ‘

You weren’t joking when you said Jerric’s party didn’t fare well in Fort Strand. I was expecting a more… traditional cluster, not this.

“Well,” Jerric said after a moment, “at least they’re not sitting around talking about us.”
Too close. Wow. This chapter was amazing. Especially that Lildereth shot Jerric. And might have killed him. Wow. Very few professional writers do that to me.

Chapter 11.12
Pooch again!
Haha more standard Oblivion babble. Rumors of the Brotherhood. Now does Lildereth know anything about them? I’ll keep an eye on her…

Hey, Ulfe looks a lot like that dog in the Skyrim screen shot.

That was a good spiel by the publican regarding the mutton.

Hello there I just started reading your story and was hooked from the first chapter. Then as if hooked wasn't good enough, Chapter 2 Part 1 followed with the line and the sinker. I love Jerric! He's so intuitive and observational, and his humor is right up my alley. One page down, 48 to go. I'm strapping myself in for a long and very enjoyable ride which, based on my experiences with other threads, will have me caught up before I know it. I'm SO looking forward to it!

Kazaera: Thank you so much for pointing out the confusion, I’m sorry about that! It’s exactly what you thought, with no locked doors they have to be more vigilant, and the paperwork would help them keep track of who’s up to what. I added this:

“You’ll need to get your permits at the next checkpoint. New security procedure, keeps out the scoundrels and riffraff. No one breaks the law in Kvatch these days, at least not more than once. Will you need to board your horses?”

We’ll find out some more when Jerric talks to Steward Matius, like why don’t they just move their tents into the city? Thank you for your comments, you describe perfectly what I was hoping to get across.

haute ecole rider: I’m with you, leaving Kvatch in flames was a huge insult. I want a new PC to rebuild Kvatch as much as to make a bearded, scarred, and filthy Skyrim version of Jerric! Oh, and also to play the game. Thank you, this has been a surprisingly difficult section to write.

Acadian: Thank you, Acadian! That sentence with the fellows and Flash is one of those moments that I feel like I didn’t even write, it’s just what they did.

King Coin: You are getting close! We’re just in the beginning of the next chapter. I’m so glad you like Darnand. He hasn’t named the daedroth, but I’m sure Jerric has a name for it! He hasn’t upgraded Slim’s axe, he’s too worried that Slim will kill someone with it wherever he is. Sigh. Fort Strand was Jerric’s nightmare come to life, thank you very much for your comments about it. Come to think of it, that was also not Darnand’s or Lildereth’s best day ever. Can you believe that Skyrim dog? It’s Ulfe! I was so excited when I saw it, I didn’t even notice the Dunmer lady’s brow ridges.

mALX: Thank you, mALX! So far I am staying with my outline, but there is a lot more about Kvatch that begs to be written. I’m not sure what I’m going to do about it yet.

SubRosa: I’m glad that little thought at the beginning worked, thank you. I wanted to bring back what Kvatch meant the way Jerric would think about it, trying to keep the emotions buried. I’m afraid I split this part of the chapter awkwardly, raising some questions in one section that are answered in the following ones. You’re right about Carmia. I think it would take a pioneering spirit combined with some pretty grim circumstances to make someone move to Kvatch.

RainbowVeins: Welcome to the story! Thank you very much for your kind words about Jerric. I love that you’ve already picked up on his intuitive nature. I’m so glad you’re reading, and I hope the story continues to hold your interest!


Where we are: Kvatch.


Chapter 12: Return to Kvatch Part 5

Jerric left Carmia and headed toward the far end of the plateau. The tents were almost cabins here, wood framed and floored with canvas walls. Jerric recognized the design from Gnoll’s Meeting Camp. Fire pits were spaced along the tent rows, and most were cold. Jerric glanced at the sky. Early afternoon. He guessed that evening would bring folk together to finish their work by the light and heat of shared fires.

Two girls sat on low stools outside one tent, weaving baskets. Jerric returned their greeting. When he looked up, he saw Matilene approaching between the tents.

She wore a dark blue cloak over a clean gown, and shoes with metal buckles instead of her old, cast-off boots. Pink brightened her cheeks, and the shadows under her eyes were less noticeable. Her hair lay over her shoulders in dark curls, as soft and inviting as her smile. Jerric put out his arms as she reached him, expecting a friendly hug. Instead she pulled his head down to kiss him full on the mouth.

“Matilene,” he said warily when he got his tongue back. He searched her eyes for signs of skooma, but they looked clear and blue, not darkened by enlarged pupils. She didn’t smell like she’d been smoking. His body announced that it didn’t care if she was baked out of her mind, but he tried to ignore it. “You look well.”

Matilene stayed in his arms, reaching up to scratch his beard. “I don’t take a drink until sundown now, most days. I can’t believe I haven’t seen you since the summer.” She looked impossibly cheerful.

“Are you high?” He didn’t care how it sounded.

Matilene stepped back, still holding on to his hands. “I’m happy to see you. Carmia said you were a wreck when she saw you last, and you weren’t back when I got here. They’re calling you Gate-Closer now, along with the Lion business. Is it true?”

Jerric tucked her arm though his. “Show me your accommodations. Carmia says I stink, I’ll want a bath later.”

They walked back to a banner depicting a pink rose whose folds and shadows somehow made Jerric think of lady parts. One corner portrayed a portly man with pointed ears and horns. His foot rested on a skull, and he propped his outstretched arm on the upraised hands of a nude woman. “You’re a guild brothel,” Jerric remarked in surprise.

“I just got my charter,” Matilene said with pride. “Welcome to The Rambling Rose Brothel and Bathhouse.”

The main tent was one of the larger type, framed and floored in wood. Jerric could see the fires and cauldrons they used for heating water behind the adjacent bath tent. A double row of wedge-shaped tents stretched along the back of the plateau. Jerric wondered if there was a harlot for every one, and if they had to sleep where they worked. He blamed Darnand’s influence for the shudder that came with that thought.

“Are you ready to spend some coin with me, or a couple of my girls?”

Jerric moved her hands before he started running up a bill. “Matilene, I’ll come back for a bath. Don’t try to sell me anything else. I’m keeping myself pure for the chapel.”

Matilene laughed. “You can always change your mind. After all, we have a special that’s named after you.”

Jerric stared at her in horror.

“Well, not so much named after as inspired by,” Matilene amended. “Steward Matius won’t let anyone use your name, or call anything Lion-Something. It’s probably for the best, or the guards would have lions instead of wolves on their shields.”

“I have a wolf on my shield.”

“Don’t try to fight it, hero. Every word you say here will be put to song as soon as you leave. It’s dark work inside the city, and the nights are full of ghosts. Folk want a golden-eyed lion with a shining sword to sing about. Don’t fetch it up for them.”

Jerric shook his head, dismissing it. “What about the ghosts?” Maybe he would recognize someone.

“Haven’t you heard? We have teams of ghost hunters that go in every night. We export a lot of ectoplasm, almost as much as lace. Fabric is still the biggest. They won’t have some of the looms set for months, so the Kvatch damasks aren’t being made yet. Just those printed cottons.”

Jerric’s eyebrows went up. “You know a lot about manufacturing, Matilene.”

Matilene snorted. “Pillow talk. I know a little about everything now, but most of it would put you to sleep. Maybe that’s what I’ll do when I retire. Bedtime stories for bad sleepers.”

“Who do I ask about ghost hunting?”

“Captain Inian. He’ll want to see you, anyway. He thinks of you somewhere between a nephew and a legend.”

“You know Berich Inian?”

Matilene gave him a look, then gestured to a dark-haired Imperial girl who was busy filling the cauldrons with water. She looked criminally young, but she hefted the water buckets like they were filled with feathers. “That’s Fidella. If you come back after sundown, find her for your bath. That’s when the builders leave the city, so I expect I’ll be busy. I’d say she’ll give you a hand, but you’d accuse me of upselling.”

“I’ll settle for some soap and privacy.” Matilene laughed, and Jerric shook his head. “That didn’t sound right. I’d explain what I meant, but I don’t want to hear a song about it.”

“Every man’s a hero in a brothel, Jerric. You needn’t fear what we’ll say about you.”

Jerric nodded at the girl. “Are you sure she’s old enough?”

“I’m sure she’s not, that’s why I have her working in the bathhouse. She came here on her own from the Imperial City. Just walked off of a caravan with nothing to her name but the blanket over her shoulders and the dress on her back. Paid her way here in trade. If she’s a day over fourteen, I’m the Queen of Colovia. But she chose a harlot’s life in a burned-out city, so you can guess what it was like where she came from. Like you saw, we’re a guild establishment. She won’t work the tents until she’s of age. She can still go to any guild in Kvatch and sign on as an apprentice, no one’s keeping her here. Everyone needs extra hands, and most are waiving their fees. Plus there’s plenty of work hauling for the builders, laundering, or at Carmia’s Cookhouse. Or she can stay with me. I can look after folk now, Jerric. Just like Carmia.”

A sleepy looking young man stepped out of a tent and ambled over, clearly wanting Matilene’s attention. His slender build and artfully tousled hair made Jerric think he belonged to The Rose, not the stonemasons. Jerric gave Matilene’s hand a squeeze as he stepped away from her. “I’ll catch up with you later, Matilene. I have to go find the Steward.”

Jerric made his way back through the guild tents to the middle of Kvatch Village. Matius will probably be inside the walls, he decided. He tried to keep his thoughts still and just wait for what he would see there. Then as he passed Carmia’s Cookhouse, his gaze landed on a sight that stopped him in his tracks.

A broad, bald Nord stood drinking from a soup bowl. His rough linen sleeves were pushed up over forearms thick with muscle. As Jerric approached, the Nord placed his empty bowl on a long trestle table. Jerric knew who it had to be, but he couldn’t believe it. “Vigge?”

The Nord turned. “Well met, son of Skyrim!” Vigge’s weathered face creased into a grin. He gripped Jerric’s forearm, and gave him a hearty thump on the shoulder. “I hope you’ve brought some feather potions, or at least some flax and lotus seeds to go with our venison. The stonemasons want them for their haulers.” Jerric just kept staring. “Oh, you think you see a change in me?” Vigge slapped his much flatter belly under the simple tunic. “Salmo’s sweetrolls and too much wine, that’s what I had in Skingrad. Don’t miss any of it. Berene can keep her fine robes, too, and her blonde Breton coocha. Hard work in the sun and wind, that’s what this Nord wants. You don’t get to be Conjurer by sitting on your thumb all day. I’m glad to put Skingrad behind me.”

Jerric realized that his mouth was hanging open. His mind was as empty as if he had just failed to absorb a shock spell. He blurted out the first thing that floated through it. “How’s Sigrid?”

Vigge’s good humor evaporated into a hot glare. “You’d better not be thinking what it sounds like you’re thinking. I have the highest respect for that woman. If I had a daughter, I would hope she could grow to be half the woman Sigrid is. You keep your eyes in your head while you’re here.” Then Vigge smiled and thumped Jerric’s shoulder again. “You should ask me about Glafeviel. I guess you know her from Anvil.”

“Uh... yeah, I know her.”

“We were born in the same year, did you know that? We remember the same plays and minstrels, even saw some of the same arena matches. Everyone talks about the Dunmeri lasses, but in my view there’s none so wild as a wood elf.”

This is how Darnand must feel, Jerric thought. When he gets that look. “What I meant about Sigrid is… who’s the boss?”

“Sigrid Fire-Walker is chapter head of the Kvatch guild. She’s been promoted to Conjurer. Ask Glafeviel for anything first, though. Sigrid is our banner lifted high in the wind. Glafeviel is the post that keeps us anchored.”

Jerric thought that sounded pretty poetic, so he moved on without commenting about post holes or pile driving. “I need spells, Vigge. Daedra fighting spells. Now or later?”

Vigge looked Jerric over. “I’ll assess you now. It hardly takes any time, and I’m never wrong. Then we’ll make a plan for your training.”

“I’ll do what you tell me.”

Vigge grasped Jerric’s hands, and his face took on the look of a man who might be struggling with his bowels. Jerric experienced a rare and unpleasant moment of self-consciousness as folk went about their business around them. Then Vigge let go and crossed his arms over his chest. He nodded thoughtfully.

“Altmer’s bane, that’s what you are. Born in Sun’s Height or Sun’s Dusk?”

“Sun’s Dusk.”

“You have enough power to cast any spell I could teach you. I need to test you first. It’s no good killing with a single spell if you fry yourself or hit the wrong man.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow,” Vigge told him. “Come find me at the guild hall. We’ll go around the outside of the city wall. Kvatch is no place for a mage to practice slinging fire. Folk are still upset.”

“I need some empty magicka stones, too. My gear needs recharging. Maybe we can summon something so I can fill the stones while you test me.”

“Glafeviel has the gems,” said Vigge. He gave Jerric another assessing look. “You were born under the Atronach. Have you ever tried recharging from your own magicka?”

“No. Is that Mysticism? I don’t know any spells from that school.”

“Huh,” said Vigge. “Remind me about that tomorrow. We have some work to do.”

Vigge started toward the city gates. Jerric fell into step with him. “Have you seen Lildereth?” Jerric asked. “She’s a Bosmer hunter, traveling with a big yellow dog.”

“Sure, she’s off hunting. Don’t know where she’s staying, though. She and that dog have taken a fair number of deer.” Jerric saw Savlian Matius walk out the city gate toward them. Jerric stopped and Vigge kept walking, nodding at Matius as he passed.

Savlian gripped Jerric’s arm in greeting, giving him a long look. “Jerric.” He didn’t need to say the rest.

“I guess word travels faster than my feet to the Steward of Kvatch.” He looks older, Jerric thought.

“Your feet dawdle around cookfires and pretty women.” Savlian turned back toward the city. “Come, we’ll walk inside the wall. I want to show you what we’ve done.”

A fun walk around Kvatch, renewing old acquaintances. I’m so pleased to see Sigrid in charge of the mages guild chapter there! And what fun that Vigge is there and seems to be doing well. I was glad to hear that Lildereth made it and is helping to fill stewpots and fire spits with venison.

“Tomorrow,” Vigge told him. “Come find me at the guild hall. We’ll go around the outside of the city wall. Kvatch is no place for a mage to practice slinging fire. Folk are still upset.”
Wonderful touch that makes perfect sense!

“I need some empty magicka stones, too. My gear needs recharging. Maybe we can summon something so I can fill the stones while you test me.”
I see you join SubRosa and myself in viewing ‘soul trapping’ as capturing a dying foe’s magicka. And therefore with much more benign connotations.

And what a smile-inducing moment to see Savlian again.

Would that be a Georgia O'Keefe painting? Hmm, sounds like she would fit in quite well there!

What an awesome name for Sigrid! I hope you'll let me use it in my fiction!

And we see Kvatch beginning to rise again from the ashes. Good work, showing everyone coming together to rebuild that burned city.

I'm getting ready to add Kvatch Rebuilt to my TES game, and am looking forward to seeing it go up. It would be soooo cool to see Kvatch as it once was.

And good to see the Steward again. Yes, he'd be looking rather worn by now. Wonder if he'd rather be facing that damned Oblivion Gate again than acting as a steward of a nascent city?

SPEW !! The local brothel has services named after Jerric? "I'll have the 'Jerric's Gummy Worms' please..." "That will be thirty Septims..." "Er ... never mind."

SPEW !!! Viggie the Cautious is talking about Adrienne Berene's coochie? BWAAAHAAA !!!! Viggie is really likable in your fic !! Great job turning a maligned character into a trustworthy and hard working mage - and dropping some weight off that rounded belly too !! Awesome !!!

Very touching scene at the end with Matias !!

Grits, there is no way to improve the perfection of your story - yet somehow when you get to Kvatch your writing seems to still blossom and bring out all new facets to your abilities !! You exceed even your own self when writing in Kvatch - AWESOME WRITE !!!

I see Carmia is not the only one doing better since Kvatch was destroyed. I expect all the people from Gnoll's Meeting Camp have found the disaster to be an incredible opportunity for them to turn their lives around. A combination bathhouse and brothel? Now that is killing two birds with one stone!

Folk want a golden-eyed lion with a shining sword to sing about.
QFT.

Vigge! And he was the one telling Jerric to keep his eyes in his head? The Vigge I am used to cannot wait to hop in the sack with anything horizontal! Quite the new man he is too. Obviously not just the Gnoll's Meeting people used Kvatch as a means to turn over a new leaf.

Altmer’s bane
A very neat and clever name for a Nord to use for an Astronaut Atronach.

Have you ever tried recharging from your own magicka?
It is nice to see that you are incorporating that into the JF. I never saw any good reason that you could not do that in the game.

“Your feet dawdle around cookfires and pretty women.”
QFT again!

Chapter 11.13
A master of alchemy can’t make poisons? Unheard of! Jerric is such a character.

Umm I think a poison maker with all the bad habits Jerric seems to have won’t live very long…lol.

I don’t have a temper!
I think I’ve heard that line before in real life oddly enough.

I wonder how Jerric’s going to react knowing that Abiene used more illusion on him.
And MORE illusion perhaps?

Oh I wasn’t sure what to expect from the Redguard family. He’s a battlemage and all. I’m glad they seemed to set that aside and focused on what’s important.

Sigrid Fire-Walker is chapter head of the Kvatch guild. She’s been promoted to Conjurer

This surprised me a bit, as most of the chapter heads are Wizards, which is three ranks higher. Falcar's departure leaves Deetsan (a Magician) in charge in Cheydinhal, but she's only acting head at that rank. But then I found that Adrienne Berene's only an Evoker, and it made more sense. They gave Sigrid a one-rank promotion, which would be normal, and moving Vigge (Conjurer like Sigrid) eliminates the anomaly of him outranking Adrienne. The Skingrad precedent certainly makes a Conjurer as chapter head reasonable.

P.S. I confirm Deetsan as chapter head at Cheydinhal and promote her to Warlock in my Gweden mod if the player is Arch-mage. It took me a while to decide if I should bump her all the way to Wizard with the new job, and decided the same way you did. One at a time, with the opportunity for more.

I like your description of the banner, with the Guild mark in the corner. I'm thinking that I'll need to make one for the Gweden Lodge. Your inspiration for the Guild mark was the Daggerfall Sanguine I assume?

Chapter 11.14
How did this skinny Breton get into that man’s bed?
I was more of thinking how did that big nord get that lovely woman into his bed?

Lildereth sounds like a talented mage in alteration perhaps.

Thaurron!

Everyone with curls wants straight hair and everyone with straight wants curls.

Lovely chapter.

Yeah, the edited version makes it clear!

Can't think of much to say beyond the classic "Story. Good. More.", except...



What a fascinating look at day-to-day life in a land where magic and ghosts are real - teams of ghost hunters after a disaster along with ectoplasm as a trade good! That's an image that'll stay with me a while!



And this is another excellent touch of realism.

Chapter 11.15
“I do not know. I did not attend last year’s ball.”

“Really? Why?”

Darnand looked at her as if the question didn’t make sense.
I identify

Abiene certainly didn’t let her worries bother her. She seemed to have the energy I would only associate with small dogs and children.

LMFAO! Jerric hauled in by the guard!

Chapter 11.16
Oh gawd, experimental drugs are quite risky.

What the heck is going on? Jerric and Rhano completely drunk!

Oh no! Lildereth’s sick!

Darnand scared the crap out of Gulitte. Good man. Lol.

Chapter 12
Darnand’s opinion of Jerric has really changed from chapter one. Heck he seems like a different person almost.

Oh boy. A typical evening with Jerric? Darnand better let him fight and try not to summon his daedroth.
“Thank you, constable. You have made this a most pleasant arrest.”

Illio’s eyes glinted under his helm. “May you have a brief and equally agreeable incarceration.”


Chapter 12.2
Betting with bread!I guess what else is there to do?
Darnand took that a lot better than I expected.

Acadian: Indeed, they trap the energy released at death in this version of Tamriel. Binding souls to fuel weapons that are then used for good would provide a dark and interesting twist, but not one I’m going to attempt in this story. Maybe I'll save it for tackling an anti-hero. Jerric calling soul gems by the wrong name is one of the little ways he unintentionally annoys the “real” mages. We’ll hear more from Savlian in this episode. Thank you, Acadian!

haute ecole rider: Absolutely, yay!

Does the Kvatch Rebuilt Mages Guild have a specialization? I wonder if anyone else thinks that Alchemy would be a good fit. I think it will be at least February before I get to the “install mods” entry on my list. I’m sure you’re right about Savlian’s new responsibilities. We’ll hear some of it from him in this episode. Thank you, haute!

mALX: LOL, no one can spread the love the way Jerric does without the occasional embarrassing moment! I’m sure when he carried on at Gnoll’s Meeting Camp, he never imagined that those folks would move to his home town!

I always thought there had to be more to Vigge than his somewhat goofy demeanor in Skingrad. I mean, he can summon a storm atronach and teach Master level elemental destruction spells, but he’s hanging around bed-hopping and talking about shopping. His boss is younger, a lower rank, and tends to lose her employees. I decided that he gave himself early semi-retirement and then regretted it. I’ve been back through the Skingrad MG a couple of times with different characters, and that place is nuts! If only poor Glarthir could have gotten out of Skingrad, maybe things would have gone differently for him. Hmm… Thank you, mALX!

SubRosa: I’ve observed that nothing is more frightening to my filthy-minded male friends than their own suddenly smokin’ hot teenage daughters. So when I sent the horniest Nord in Skingrad to live with the most legendary rack south of Skyrim, I just had to slap him with some paternal feelings.

I think I saw Teresa recharge her bow with a spell in a video, could that be right? That was an inspiration. It makes sense to me that any energy could be converted with the right spell, but I wouldn’t have thought of it on my own. There is a little more about recharging in the works, unless it gets cut in the edit. Thank you, SubRosa!

King Coin: Exactly, this is the guy who guzzles restore magicka potions out of a waterskin. Little vials and stoppers are not his friends. I’m glad you pointed out Shasana’s acceptance of Jerric despite his magic use. Still, I’m sure he’s not going to mention summoning daedra at the dinner table. Rhano’s parents treating Jerric like a son is part of the conflict between the two of them, especially with Rhano’s dad Ongve being a Nord in this story. You’re right about Lildereth, she is very skilled with some magic, but not very powerful. Thank you, KC!

It was fun to show Abiene having a blast in a social setting along with Darnand who could not have been dragged there by anyone but her, then follow it with Jerric getting him thrown in jail. It gave Darnand a chance to show how he can rise to an occasion. I like what you said about how Darnand’s opinion of Jerric has changed to the point where he seems almost like a different person. That’s what I was hoping for when I put Jerric on the floor with Bog Trawler.

ghastley: I went through the same thought process before promoting Sigrid, and Berene’s Evoker rank was what made it possible for me, too. I also figured that with half the Council of Mages gone, some of the higher ranks left in the guild would be angling for a spot in the IC, not chapter head of a tent in a building site. I had to find out how Deetsan is involved in your Gweden mod. Randonil, I love it!

You’re right about the Guild mark, it’s the Daggerfall Sanguine. That way no one thinks it’s a flower shop. I think a Guild banner would look great at Gweden Lodge!

Kazaera: I’m thinking that summoning daedra will also be frowned upon in Kvatch. I love the reminders that despite the similarities, Tamriel is not on Earth. Thank you for the SGM! I’m honored. And here you go!

Where we are: In Kvatch, talking to Steward Matius.



Chapter 12: Return to Kvatch Part 6

Jerric stood in the middle of Guild Court, bathed in afternoon sunlight. All of his life the great elm trees had shaded this circle, even in winter. Now every paving stone was open to the sky.

His eyes were drawn between the new guild halls and down his street. Neat stacks of dressed stone lined one side. Workers chipped mortar away from blocks on the ground. Sharp pings from their hammers bounced back from the city’s bare walls. Youngsters scooped the mortar into handcarts and shifted the smaller stones onto piles, sending dust drifting along the ground like mist. An elderly man appeared to be in charge of the operation. No trees, no walls, not even a garden fence remained standing. His street looked like a long stoneyard. Matius waited silently while Jerric fought his aching throat. You’re not going to break this time, he told himself.

Savlian began to speak, nodding at the buildings around them. “The Mages Guild hall shell is up, Sigrid can tell you about their plans. The mages sleep here, though they’re still working in those tents while the builders finish the interior. The Fighters Guild hasn’t started back up yet, but we’ve cleared the lot and covered the cellar for them. The Weavers Guild was the first to get their roof on. They’re setting up looms in their hall and in the castle until we can clear Weavers Street. It might be a year before they can build new loomhouses. Kvatch textiles are still the finest Cyrodiil has to offer. They’ll lose some market share, but their profits will be high with so little being made. They found their pattern books in the ruins. Sealed up in enchanted boxes. It seems that weavers think ahead about fires.”

“Sigrid,” Jerric said. “I hear they’re calling her Fire-Walker.”

Pain passed over Savlian’s expression. “I know what you’re saying. Folk have given her a name she wouldn’t have chosen, and she’s not the only one. None of us will forget what we did that night to survive, or what we failed to do. Sigrid has made it a part of herself. Now she’s stronger. I’ve seen your face when folk call you Hero. You could learn from Sigrid.”

Jerric’s eyes went back down his street, as if somehow it might have changed again. Matius saw where he was looking. “That’s all been cleared,” he said. “We can walk down if you wish. The old cellars are covered for now so they won’t keep flooding. We couldn’t tell… Well, you’re the only one left who lived there. I didn’t want to say so soon, but you’ll have your home wherever you want it. Where it was, or anywhere else. The rest of us will wait for the new count, but we’ve all agreed on this.”

Jerric shook his head. He started toward the chapel without speaking.

Matius walked at his side, pointing. “You can see we’ve cleared all the way through Pinder Plaza. The chapel is sound, and work has begun on the new steeple. The priests and healers dwell there, and for now they hold school in the chapel hall. The healing hall repairs are finished. They have a lot of injuries to deal with, as well as frost burns and curses from the ghosts. Now that we’ve secured the plateau, that’s our biggest safety concern. The mages have laid wards down in the castle and on a few of the buildings. Those are safe for folk to live in, but no one is allowed on the streets after nightfall, unless they’re with a team.”

Jerric stopped and gave Savlian his full attention.

Savlian continued. “The priests follow the ghosts and bless what remains they can find. Some of the spirits are lost and frightened, but some are still trying to fight. It’s a battleground out here every night. Those that won’t move on have to be made to go.” The Steward dropped away from Savlian’s face, and for a moment Jerric saw how his responsibilities weighed on him. “When we took our city back from the daedra, I thought I was through with fighting. Now we have to take it back from our own dead.”

Jerric gripped Savlian’s shoulder. Once again, he didn’t have the words. “Where are… When you find remains. Where are the burials?”

Savlian passed a hand over his face. “We started behind the chapel. Those streets won’t be rebuilt. At first we tried to keep records… Well, folk were running away from the fires. We haven’t found many in their cellars, and there aren’t enough of us left to put names to those few who could be recognized. Now we’re using the center of the old arena. It’s the only place with enough open ground.” Jerric’s throat had closed again, but Savlian knew what he was asking. He put his hand over Jerric’s. “They would be behind the chapel.”

The two men stood silently together, and for a time they were both simply sons and brothers, left behind.

“Have you found your people?” Jerric finally asked.

Savlian spoke softly, but his grief and frustration were palpable. “I lived on the far side of the Arena District. It will be months before we can even reach my neighborhood. My home... my goddamn home is lying in ruins. My family is there somewhere. For all I know they haunt the streets every night. It kills me that I can't get in there and do something.”

Jerric started moving again. They passed into Pinder Plaza and stopped near the statue. Antus Pinder’s sword still pointed northeast, undamaged.

Savlian had recovered his composure. “We repaired the castle foundations and roof, but the cleaning is going to take more time,” he said. “The city guards dwell in the castle barracks. You saw the militia encampment when you came up. We don’t need the Legion to protect our people any more. We’re sorting what we salvage from the ruins as we go. What we don’t need in the village, we’re storing in the castle. When folk rebuild, they’ll have a little to start with.”

Shadows passed over them, causing Jerric to look up. Two large black birds flew toward the castle, spreading out their wings and tail feathers to splash down in the castle moat.

“Look!” cried Savlian. “I’m glad you got to see this.”

Jerric couldn’t believe it. “Some of the swans survived!”

“Those two must have escaped during the attack. One day they just returned, after we dredged the moat. Berich has been feeding them wheat to keep them here. I think everyone in the city slows down when they walk past the castle, now that the swans are home.”

Jerric saw Savlian’s smile echoed on other faces. Folk were indeed slowing down to look at the birds, even those laden with rock and timber.

“Count Hassildor has promised to send gardeners in the spring,” Savlian said. Jerric saw that he was looking over the barren castle grounds. “They will bring trees as large as can be moved for transplanting. Our city was a garden in the sky, some called it the jewel of Cyrodiil. We won’t live to see the last stones set into place, and I’m sure the hands that will place them are not yet born. But we will see Kvatch bloom again. I swear it.”

Jerric watched the swans glide on the moat’s still water. “Where do you dwell, Steward? At the castle?”

“In a tent in the village. The people can look to me for now, if they choose. Leadership is something I can give, but I must guard against taking liberties. I won’t put myself in the castle unless the Elder Council allows it.”

Jerric shook his head. “Do you have any word on what they’ve decided?”

“No, and there’s something I mean to ask you. An unsanctioned steward can’t do this job. I can keep order, but I have no authority to collect or disburse funds, or even distribute lots to those who want to rebuild. We’ve had nobles from half of the great houses in the realm poking through the castle, counting the silver and claiming they want to help. Fandius Terentius showed up with a pack of hired swords almost as soon as the ruins stopped smoking. Captain Inian nearly had a fight on his hands when he wouldn’t let Lord Terentius move into Count Goldwine’s chambers. After that we blocked the passage down to the vaults with rubble. All of the gold is there, but the records burned in the old steward’s office. We already have a new Imperial tax collector, if you can believe it. Some days I have my hands full just dealing with her.”

“Sounds like the Steward could use a steward.”

“Countess Umbranox sent me one of her junior stewards. I’m certain you will meet him at the castle. The County Anvil steward is a Bosmer, and this young fellow didn’t care to wait his whole life for a promotion. He keeps everything he hears in his head. I’ve heard of folk like that, but never met one.”

“Breton?”

“Indeed.”

“Must be handy to skip the ledger when you’re still unofficial and there’s a tax collector about.”

Savlian’s eyebrows said what his words would not. “Young Rilian has agreed to speak our case before the Elder Council. He’s taking Count Goldwine’s Colovian Signet Ring with him, to show they have the power and they need to assign it. I’d go myself, but there are those from outside who would take over, and not for the city’s good. I’d like you to stand with him. Don’t worry, he’ll do the talking.”

“All right. I have to stop in Skingrad for a bit first.”

“That would be to Rilian’s benefit,” Savlian said. “It will be good for him to leave Kvatch, if only for a few weeks.”

Jerric thought that Savlian might also benefit from a break, but he knew better than to suggest it. “You know that old Anvil burned during the Battle of Anvil Bay. The Council gave Commodore Umbranox the title Count of Anvil. They gave him funds to build the city as it stands now.” He looked Matius in the eye.

“That precedent has not gone unnoticed in Kvatch.” Savlian’s face showed the Wolf’s dignity. “County Kvatch is rich with resources. Every woodlot in the West Weald is cutting timber for us with only the promise of future payment. Our farmers are suffering from the reduced market for their crops, but the castle has the gold to pay all of their taxes, if the Empire insists. Keep that between us. We can start rebuilding without Imperial gold and fend off the vultures that circle our county. We just need the authority back from the Imperial City.”

Jerric nodded. “I’ll take Rilian to the Elder Council. He’ll have to bring the answer back on his own, though.” They stood for a moment, watching the swans. “I need to speak to Captain Inian about the ghosts.”

“If he’s not at the castle, one of the guards can tell you where to find him.” Savlian held Jerric with that steady gaze again. “I advise you to leave the ghosts for the outsiders. Take a shift in the ruins. The work will ease your conscience, and your presence there will lift everyone’s mood.” Savlian put out a hand, stopping Jerric’s objections. “I know the guilt you carry. When you left us, folk didn’t know what to think. Then word came back of the Gates you closed. Some say Kvatch was just the beginning, and every city in Cyrodiil will come under attack. After the battle you told me that Kvatch would rise, but not for you. I do not share that view, Jerric. Do what you must to seek out the enemy. Your calling is not the same as ours. But you will always be a son of Kvatch.”

Once again, a good start with that simple, short recollection of Jerric's that the elms were gone.

Nice part about the Weavers Guild. IRL, clothing was extremely expensive before the Industrial Revolution. Savlian is right, they will be bringing in the money soon enough. Making the Kvatch the textile capital of Cyrodiil was also a good touch of world-building. Every city ought to have some economy it is noted for.

I’ve seen your face when folk call you Hero. You could learn from Sigrid.
QFT

A very excellent thought with the undead Kvatchites roaming the streets at night. Like Savlian, that is something I never would have thought of happening. Yet it makes perfect sense. Bravo! So now they need Egon, Venkman, Stantz, and Zeddemore to come in and clean things up with their unlicensed nuclear accelerators. I can't help it, I watched it on blu-ray last weekend. Even after all this time, that movie is still amazing!

The black swans were a good touch at world-building too.

Savlian's decision to remain in the tents reminds me of Aragorn at Minas Tirith. Nicely done again!

So Jerric is off to confirm someone as the new Count of Kvatch? I wonder what will happen if the Elder Council does not do anything (like in the game). I imagine it would mean civil war, as someone will eventually have to just step in and take charge, formalities be damned. One could easily see all of Colovia follow, one city at a time too. Uprisings are a tradition for them after all.

SubRosa already touched on everything I liked about this post. I have plans for Matius in OHDH as well, which seem to mirror yours pretty closely.

In Kvatch Rebuilt, apparently the PC becomes the Count of Kvatch. I'm not happy about that, as I think a certain NPC deserves that honor (and the responsibility that goes with it) more.

It's great that you're putting at least as much thought into the rebuilding of Kvatch as I have, if not more!

Ghost-busting is just the job for a frost-resistant, magic-absobing Nord Atronach, so I'm a bit surprised that Savlian warns him off. But I suppose he's likely to meet a relative, which would complicate the job.

Liked the black swans, too. The "can't happen, but it just did" aspect fits the situation nicely.

The bit about the nobility coming in like vultures to count the silver was a particularly good touch. Especially picking a Terentius to be the archetype.

Beautifully written with loads of fantastic touches. Town ghosts, black swans, weavers guild. . . .

“I lived on the far side of the Arena District. It will be months before we can even reach my neighborhood. My home... my goddamn home is lying in ruins. My family is there somewhere. For all I know they haunt the streets every night. It kills me that I can't get in there and do something.”
I love that you mirror Savlian’s lines from when you first meet him in the game. It makes me want to cue up the song 'I need a hero'.

Wimpy hopeful nobles circling like vultures for a countship! What a completely predictable but unthought of (by me anyway) development!

Gosh, this was good!

This is a hugely powerful aftermath to the battle that is still fresh in Jerric's mind and in ours. You have a tremendous natural ability to bring both the war itself and the scars (emotional and otherwise) wrought by it that it becomes intensely real to the reader. I didn't think anyone could surpass SubRosa in that ability, I think she may need to share her top place pedestal with you though.

On Viggie - if (when you are supposed to go get Erthor) you make a deal with Viggie instead - his full "charming" (cough cough) personality shines through the whole underhanded deal. He even goes so far as to threaten poor Erthor if he dares tell about the deal - and the way he lords it over you (that he has something on you that could get you in trouble, like turning the thumbscrews) - you know your days in that Skingrad Mages hall will NOT be comfortable thereafter, lol.


Absolutely AWESOME Write !!!!

Okay, starting way back in Chapter 10: Septims, Part 5:

I loved the description of Abiene’s surgical procedure on Jerric. One of the things that I love about this forum is that we have so many compassionate would-be healers among us. Who needs anesthetic when you can just zap the victim patient with a paralyze spell? After a while the pain makes you pass out anyway! I would also like to tender my request to exchange the Varel Morvayn in my game with the one who occupies yours. I can’t even get that n’wah to be reasonable! It would be impossible to pry repairs out of him for free!

Allow me to chime in on the subject of Abiene’s ‘betrayal’ of Jerric:

[rant] This really hits a sore spot with me because I happen to live amongst an entire family who adhere to the old maxim that it is better to ask for forgiveness than permission. To do something to someone else because you know that the other person will forgive you is the height of disrespect. It turns the other person into a commodity, a thing to be used and discarded at will. Jerric has every reason to be angry over this callous and calculated mistreatment, no matter the result. If the shoe were on the other foot I doubt that Abiene would be so quick to forgive.[/rant]

All that said, I think you handled Jerric’s reaction to the event masterfully.

Your lead-in to The Siren’s Deception was simply fantastic! When Jerric tells Gogan that he’s seen better than Signy I almost fell out of my chair. And when he suggests that the sirens will descend on Darnand ‘like slime on a mudcrab’ I had to stop reading for several moments to compose myself!

I think that Norbert Lelles would find it cheaper to simply hire a guard to protect the store from his own gullibility! As haute said, you have taken a very boring quest and breathed much needed life into it. I had a good laugh when Jerric found the detect life ring in his pocket. I can’t even count the number of times that the thing that would have helped me most remained in my inventory during the fight.

Jerric and Abiene’s day at the market was just the right tonic for the tension between them. When she called Vidkun’s name in the throes of passion I was ready to give up on her right then and there. Honestly, does Jerric really want to spend a great deal of his time with a woman who sees him at best as a substitute for another, and at worst as a practice dummy? But thankfully Abiene redeemed herself by not holding a grudge when confronted by the truly naked (and bejeweled) reminder that Jerric tends to get around. Bravo Abiene!

Nothing says ‘Don’t F*** with me’ like a summoned Daedroth! I imagine that a simple ghost or skeleton would have done the job, but I like getting a sense of Darnand’s panic to the situation by his choice of summon. When in doubt, destroy everything! I also like the symmetry of Jerric being there to ease Darnand’s PTSD. I’d say the two are even now.

See what your work does to me? Here I am going on and on and I am still not even HALFWAY to being caught up! I have so much reading left in front of me, but I’ll get there.

I Promise.

Chapter 12.3
Yikes. I’m glad Jerric is putting the invisibility to use.

Poor Precious!

Now are the Sigil stones making Jerric behave abnormally, or is he just really aggressive on his own?

Darnand held out two biscuits. “Cheese or sausage?”
Jerric took both biscuits.

Lol! The legion packed meals aren’t going to last long!

My respect for Darnand grows. He’s even getting his hands dirty in the fights. He is a different person from the one that hit Jerric with an errant fireball while Jerric killed a boar.

A little touchy now too. Jerric can take it. I bet he’s pissed that he didn’t make a move on Abilene.

Chapter 12.4
Papers eh? Jerric doesn’t need any. A perk of going to hell and back I guess.

Hey! Carmia listened!

This went well, but he hasn’t been in the ruins yet has he?

SubRosa: Thank you, I wanted to give the sense of life in Kvatch without lingering too long there. I think if Count Hassildor and Countess Umbranox had spare offspring loafing around, there might have been an immediate struggle over Kvatch. It would be interesting to explore the different legal and illegal armed factions that must exist within the counties. The difference between the lord of an estate and a warlord in some ruin could be pretty slim. I agree, leaving the Kvatchians to their own devices would be dangerous. There could be a rebellion in the middle of the Empire!

haute ecole rider: I did not think I was going to have to rebuild Kvatch in my mind before I could write this chapter, but that’s just what happened! Whew. I think the choice for Kvatch’s new leader boils down to Savlian, an outsider noble, or the PC. A case could be made for the PC taking the path of Commodore Umbranox who became Count Anvil, I guess. Of course, in this fic Savlian led the battle, not Jerric. I’m with you, I might have to do some alternate imaginary ending for Kvatch Rebuilt. Seeing Kvatch whole again would be worth it!

ghastley: Exactly, Jerric would be the perfect Ghostbuster. But Savlian remembers how he completely fell apart after the Gate/battle, and another episode like that wouldn’t work with his plans. Of course, Jerric doesn’t always follow advice. I’m glad you liked the swans.

Acadian: I have been waiting for so long to pay homage to Savlian’s Gate-side rant! Jerric took off running for the Gate before he could say it, even though I really wanted to use his lines in the first Kvatch chapter. That might be my favorite dialog in the whole MQ. I just had to work it in somehow. Thank you so much for pointing it out!

mALX: Ack, I thought that was Sulinus Vassinus who is so mean to Erthor! I’ve always gone to get the poor guy myself. He’s always so happy to be rescued. Plus he’s super cute. Thank you, mALX! This was another episode that was a little gut-wrenching to write. I need another chapter of parties!

Destri Melarg: OK, Chapter 10 has 18 posts. Chapter 11 (Holidays) has 16, and some of them are pretty light. So far Chapter 12 has 7, and I’ve only been posting once per week. I hope that’s encouraging news. I’m really, really glad you’re still reading! Thank you for the rant about Abiene’s manipulation of Jerric. That part was such a big deal to me, it was actually hard to write. I was a little tense when I read your comments, hoping that by the time the two of them got through their market day, their ups and downs would have leveled out for you. Whew!! Abiene is a challenge for me to balance. Her flaws are things that would really get to me. I’m delighted by your remark that Darnand and Jerric are even after the daedroth episode. I had a blast with the Anvil quests. There are a lot of fun NPCs to work with.

King Coin: You’re almost caught up!! It’s not the sigil stones making him aggressive, that’s how he is in a fight. He’s an amiable brawler, but he would explain that’s different. He wants to kill daedra, never mind the consequences to himself. He had gone through his already limited reserve of self-control sneaking through to get to the stone, and once he got it he was trying not to step away from the fire column and fight while that’s all he wanted to do. If the daedroth reached him first, then the choice would be taken out of his hands. That’s why he was yelling at them. Not his most rational moment.

Where we are: Jerric and Darnand arrived in Kvatch this afternoon.



Chapter 12: Return to Kvatch Part 7

Jerric stood on the Kvatch plateau under the moons, scrubbing his skin until it felt raw. His weapons rested on the nearby table, cleaned of ectoplasm. His boots were now free of the soot, mud, and filth they had accumulated during his work in the ruins. A bucket of well water sent soap suds running down between the bathing platform’s boards and away. He wished it would clear his mind of the day’s grinding horror.

A cold breeze dried him as he made his way through the tents to the one he shared with Darnand. They had set it up at the far end of a row, facing out over the edge and away from the privies. Jerric knew that the wind usually came from the other direction, and this way they would be able to look out and see the stars. At least he would. Darnand preferred to lie down with his head at the back of the tent, while Jerric slept with his by the door.

He stood outside the tent for a moment, listening to the quiet. As he left the city, the chapel bells in their temporary tower had rung one of the morning watch. Darnand was probably asleep. Their packs stood in the tent’s belled end, opposite the door and past Darnand’s head. Jerric decided not to take the chance of disturbing him by crashing around in the dark. He piled his gear next to the door, boots and blades at the ready. His soiled clothing stayed outside. At least in Kvatch he shouldn’t have to apologize for the state of his laundry.

Lying in the dark, Jerric realized that he wasn’t ready for sleep. Now he wished he had sought out company at Matilene’s bathhouse instead of using the village’s open-air bathing station. He missed the sound of wind through trees and the horses’ comforting noises. It was too late for music or the usual camp murmur. Jingling mail told him when a guard passed nearby. Darnand stirred, and a pair of pale woolen socks became visible in the moonlight coming through the tent flap. Jerric reached out and cautiously covered his friend’s feet.

“I am awake,” Darnand mumbled. He almost stifled his yawn.

Jerric scrambled around on his bedroll so they could talk without disturbing their neighbors. “Did you get your assignment from Sigrid?” he asked.

“Yes.” Darnand yawned again. “One of their flax seed suppliers is late with his shipment. I am tasked with contacting him to determine the cause. The supplier resides at Shetcombe Farm, northeast of here. Do you know it?”

“I know the area, but not exactly where. There are a bunch of little farms around there. It’s on the other side of Pottersville. Do you have your map? I’ll show you.”

Darnand produced a tiny lick of flame from his fingertip, and Jerric handed him the candle to light. Several sheets of parchment, scrolls, and two open books lay at the top of Darnand’s bedroll. Jerric smiled at the vision of his friend’s head drooping in sleep as his night-eye spell faded. Darnand pushed his notes aside and unrolled the map between them, propped up on his elbows under his blankets.

“Here,” said Jerric, pointing. “Follow the road around past the livery. When you get to Pottersville, turn to your right and go straight through town. You’ll start to see the little farms on the other side. Take the first lane and head east. You’ll have to ask where Shetcombe Farm is, I’m just guessing that it’ll be in that area.”

Darnand studied the map. “How will I know Pottersville?”

“Well, it’s a little town full of potters. You’ll see kilns and ceramic goods and such. Stacks of wood everywhere, green ware on drying racks, and carts full of crates on the way out of town.” Darnand looked blank. “Do you have any idea what I’m talking about?”

“No.”

“All right. You’ll know it because it will smell like woodsmoke. If you get to a town that smells like death, that’s Tannertown. You’ve gone too far.” Jerric looked at the map for a moment. “That’s a sturdy map, but it doesn’t have much on it. What’s this mark, here?” He pointed to a charcoal smudge north of Kvatch.

“That is the approximate location of a Doomstone. Here is another. This is the area where we will search for Meridia’s shrine. I shall make permanent marks when we find their precise locations.”

Jerric retrieved his own map and flopped back down on his stomach. “Look, the Jone Stone is right here. I think the Sanguine shrine will be pretty close. Mar— Uh, the fellow who showed me the Jone Stone pointed off to the west.”

Jerric felt himself flush under his friend’s questioning look. He leaned over Darnand’s map, searching his suddenly empty mind for a way to change the subject.

The map showed him one. “What’s this mark on Kvatch?”

“It is we,” said Darnand.

Jerric blinked at him.

“This is a Map of Clairvoyance,” Darnand explained. “It was made with an old spell. The land and water are represented, and the roads and major settlements are quite accurate. However, many of the forts are now ruins. It will be most useful for marking where I have been, so that I might return.”

Jerric began to feel alarmed. “If the map knows where you are, couldn’t someone use it to find you?” The hidden gates of Cloud Ruler Temple loomed in his mind.

Darnand seemed at a loss for words. “It does not know where I am,” he said after a moment.

“Oh.” Jerric laughed with relief. “It knows where it is.” He shook his head. “Where did you get it?”

“Abiene gifted it to me for Saturalia. Her father is a scroll maker. He made this map for her. See, these notations are in her hand.”

Jerric whistled softly. “That’s a pretty good gift.”

“Indeed. My gift to her was a crystal ball and the spell to use it. Even so, I worry that she will struggle to reach me. She has little skill in conjuration.”

Jerric considered showing Darnand his new scroll case filled with scrolls from Abiene. He decided that explaining why he got her jewelry could be awkward. “What did you do this afternoon?” he asked instead.

“I spent some time in the guild hall. I learned a new spell from Vigge the Cautious. It weakens the target to all magical attacks. I suggest you learn it from him as well.”

“Yeah,” said Jerric. “I’m going to work with him tomorrow.”

“You might also explore the spell that destroys weapons. If you are skilled enough, he can teach you to exhaust your enemy from a distance, as if he had already been fighting before you begin.”

“That sounds like a cheap trick.” Jerric flipped over onto his back and gazed up at the ridge pole. “But I’ll try it.”

“You should also learn to cast your elemental damage on touch as well as over a target area.”

“Anything else?”

“That should do for one day.” Jerric could hear the smile in Darnand’s voice.

“He’s going to try to teach me how to recharge my weapons with my own magicka,” Jerric said. “I guess that’s some kind of Mysticism spell.” He looked over to watch Darnand’s reaction.

Darnand lost a moment to surprise. “He must think your stars will help you. I hope you informed him that you have not studied that school.”

“Yeah. What’s the catch? I mean, why doesn’t everyone recharge things instead of trapping energy and fiddling with gems?”

“Some souls release a great deal of energy at death, more than a person can provide while still living. In your case, increasing your ability to hold magicka with a spell followed by one of your strong magicka potions will give your sword a great deal of power, but it will still not fill it. I suggest that you routinely send some of your magicka into your sword each time you take a potion, since even you cannot hold all of the magicka that your potions provide. Most folk are not Master Alchemists born under the Atronach, so filling a weapon would take many hours. Additionally, it is a complicated and closely guarded spell. I doubt that Vigge would offer to teach it to me.”

Jerric grinned. “Jealous?”

“Not until you have successfully learned the spell,” Darnand retorted. “If there is a reason Vigge favors you, I do not need to hear it.”

“Then I guess I won’t spin a yarn about my last visit to Skingrad. Probably for the best, the true story is more unsettling than anything I could make up.” Jerric had a thought. “Say, Steward Matius asked me to bring one of his guards along with us to the Imperial City. Is that all right with you?”

“Indeed. In these arrangements I trust your judgment. Who is the guard?”

“Jesan Rilian, do you know him? His sword is West Weald silver, and there’s a scroll pattern chased in silver on the scabbard. He carries a steel dagger with a fox’s head on the pommel. Sometimes you’ll see him with a bow.” Darnand looked blank again. “Young fellow, dark hair and grey eyes. Imperial. About half a head shorter than you. Could talk a minotaur into pulling an oxcart.”

“I know who you must mean. He has a scar here, on his throat. You saved his life during the battle for the castle. He might be your personal bard, if you would allow it.”

Jerric snorted. “Yeah. He’s going to speak to the Elder Council about getting off their backsides and approving Matius. I’ll stand with him, but I guess you know why I won’t do the talking.”

“I am surprised that Steward Matius would place his fate in the hands of one so young,” said Darnand.

“For passion and conviction, you can’t beat a teenager. Anyway, I think his youth will strike the right note. Pure intentions and hope for the future, that sort of thing.”

“It occurs to me that our plans might not suit Rilian,” said Darnand. “I doubt that searching for Doomstones in the wilderness and visiting daedric shrines are priorities for the Kvatch Guard.”

“Yeah. I’ll tell him we’ll meet him in Skingrad. Shouldn’t be a problem.” When Jerric closed his eyes, the candle’s warm glow was replaced with eerie, spectral light. He opened his eyes again and rubbed them, trying to wipe away the memory.

“What troubles you?” Darnand asked after a moment.

“Ghosts. Savlian was right, I should have stayed out of it. What I did tonight felt like killing folk. Some of them were just kids, Darnand. The priests say we’re sending them on to the next life, but... I don’t know if it’s true.” Jerric saw that Darnand was still waiting. “Those spirits are still who they were,” he explained. “A couple of them even recognized me. How much of that passes on?”

“You mean will the dead retain their consciousness beyond this realm.”

“Yeah. Will they know us if we find them in the next life? Wherever they are?” Jerric realized he was afraid of the answer.

“I do not know. Ages may pass for them while we blink, or our mortal lives may take no time at all. Some say that part of us returns to this realm, yet I have no memory of living before. If our identity is stripped away, then all that we have loved is truly lost.” Now Darnand rubbed his eyes. “I have wondered this myself in the years since my parents were killed. Such thoughts find me when the body is exhausted but the mind too troubled for sleep.”

Jerric saw only black despair down that path. He regretted ever mentioning it. “Are you saying your body is exhausted? I guess Sigrid had you doing more than carry two books around.”

Darnand looked over with the hint of a smile. “I suppose I should explain what I mean by ‘troubled mind.’ Specifically the latter part.”

Jerric felt oddly comforted. He flopped back around and rolled himself into his blankets. “Kick me if I wake you. I’m in no mood to dream tonight.”

“I shall.” Darnand put out the light.

The supplier resides at Shetcombe Farm, northeast of here.
Dum Da Dum Dum! Methinks an ancient, sunken evil might be stirring deep within the earth nirn near Shetcombe Farm!

Darnand's map was a nice way of integrating the game's magic map into the story, in a believable way. I wonder if his map was made by Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs?

Could talk a minotaur into pulling an oxcart.
This is a wonderful saying!

For passion and conviction, you can’t beat a teenager.
QFT!

There are so many small touches in this post that I absolutely loved. So I'm going to single one out that has special meaning to me - Pottersville.

Having attempted throwing pottery on a wheel, and having worked with ceramics as a hobby during my high school years (we're talking decades ago!), I remain fascinated by anything to do with clay. Pottersville struck a chord with me since last year, for a story idea I was developing, I researched Choseon pottery (aka celadon pottery) - a method of creating some of the most beautiful ceramic pieces I've ever seen. It was a type of pottery created by old Korean craftsmen during the Choseon (Choson, Joseon) period (600 years!). Those craftsmen took the best of Chinese pottery and brought it to new heights. I have yet to see other types of pottery to rival the celadon pottery of Choseon Korea.

It was so valued in Korea that they had entire villages dedicated to pottery. In fact, one remains - Ichon
It remains a place where pottery is still made in the ancient tradition. Actually, as much as they can replicate it. Much of the technique was lost when the Japanese forced Korean potters to translocate to Japan to jump-start their pottery tradition. They even kidnapped entire villages of potters. When Korea became a Japanese colony (by force, not by will) in 1910, they suffered the loss of much of their cultural traditions. It wasn't until after the Korean conflict in the '50's that they started recovering what they had lost over forty years earlier.

So to see an echo of Ichon, a pottery village I had researched for one of my own stories, really makes this post personal for me. I look forward to Darnand visiting this place!

I really enjoyed this conversation between the two fellas. Sniff, sniff. . . like SubRosa, do I perhaps smell a game side quest at Shetcombe Farm and even hints of talking to Daedric Shrines?

How the two men chose to identify Jesan speaks volumes that is consistent with the character of both of them.

So, Vigge’s gonna make Jerric into a Nordic Soul Gem? Kewl! Seriously, I like the ideas we see here in the differing stories on what is involved in recharging weaponry. I note with happiness that we all seem to take the approach of harnessing magicka from the dying rather than literally trapping souls.

A delightful read! Oh, and love Darnand’s GPS map!

GAAAH! You are right, it was Sulinus Vassinus! I just heard the voice file and thought it was Viggie.

This whole chapter was outstanding, but two things really caught my attention over and above the rest: the conversation about the map, and Jerric's continued guilt over the killing of ghosts/zombies/liches, etc. The knee-jerk reaction when killing undead suddenly takes on a depth of thought I've never seen attributed to in any other Oblivion story - it is creative world building in its highest form (and at the same time shows a side of Jerric that is much deeper than his antics would have one think). That side of Jerric is rarely revealed, solid proof of the trusting friendship between himself and Darnand.

Your ability to develop complex characters and their relationships with others is amazing! (I can't find that "Swami/I'm not worthy" emoticon, or it would go here, lol) Awesome Write!

Training Jerric to recharge is a neat idea. That's something that's illogically missing in the game. If all those NPC's can do it, why can't the player learn the skill?

The only other mechanism that makes sense is if the rechargers have a private stock of soul gems that they use, but then you'd expect them to buy and sell those. I'll have to ask Timo how he does it!

Chapter 12.5
I think Darnand might have ruined brothels for Jerric. I’ll see in a bit it looks like.

we have a special that’s named after you.”

Jerric stared at her in horror.



Vigge just doesn’t sound normal. You portrayed him wrong! (kidding)

Oh there we go. That’s the Vigge everyone knows and… well not loves but you get the idea.

Chapter 12.6
Wow. I never considered ghosts. I suppose there were many violent and shocking ends that night.

------- looters! Typical. Just typical.

Awesome chapter. Your portrayal of Savlian is what I’ve imagined. That still didn’t keep Aravi from telling him that his count was lying face down in a pool of blood though. She had lots of adrenaline going through her at the time as you could imagine. He seems to have forgiven her for that.

Chapter 12.7 !!!
Neat explanation of the map we enjoy in game. Lol.

I hoped that Jerric wouldn’t go into the ruins after ghosts. I suspected that they were more than the blobs they are represented by in game. No wonder they ask strangers to go in to clear out the ghosts.

Good chapter as well.


Woohoo! Caught up!

I haven't been commenting much because it's all been so perfect and so moving that I've had trouble figuring out anything to say... er. >> I do like the magicka explanation, and I *love* Jerric's lateral thinking - if a map can pinpoint your position, can someone use it to locate you, and what does this mean for the security of the Blades?! Not something I ever thought of but it does make sense as a worry! And the ghosts. *weeps*

Also, the pottery village! It struck a chord with me too, but for a very different reason - there is actually a historic pottery village near my hometown (Fredelsloh) where the primary industry still seems to be pottery. I've been there a lot because there's a good day's cycling route that goes there, our favourite pottery shop doubles as a cafe and we get a lot of our cups, plates, teapots, and other ceramic goods from there. I am not a historian, but the way it was explained to me is that pottery villages arise because the ground near the village contains usable clay, meaning that it makes sense for the crafts that need it to cluster. So it made me smile to see one in Cyrodiil!

Folks: This pause in the story was brought to you by a pinched nerve. Argh! Getting better now.

SubRosa: Did you see the quest marker pop up when Darnand said “Shetcombe Farm”? I could swear I did when I wrote it. This quest has a big “what-the-heck” factor for me in the game.

haute ecole rider: I’m delighted that Pottersville struck such a chord. Hopefully you won’t be too disappointed that it’s Darnand who will be travelling through there. Jerric would probably spend two days chatting with everyone in town, but we’re with the tunnel-vision Breton this time. My inspiration was a somewhat local town where trade secrets are passed down through families. There are several glazes that are so distinctive, you know the potter’s surname immediately when you see it.

Acadian: Indeed, the road to Skingrad will be a rambling one! Thank you for pointing out how differently the two fellows described Jesan. I’m glad you enjoyed their conversation. I’m sure Darnand’s GPS will come in handy. Hopefully he won’t keep his eyes on the map and accidentally ride off the road!

mALX: Thank you for drawing attention to Jerric’s concerns about the ghosts, and the resulting conversation. This episode turned out to be one of my favorites, even though nothing new really happened. It’s because of what you pointed out, the friendship. There’s a look under the goofing off at one of the things that troubles both of them, and there’s no neatly tied up answer.

ghastley: I have a spell in mind that Adrienne Berene might use to fill magicka gems by capturing the release of another kind of energy, which would also explain some of the antics at the Skingrad guild. I think Timo would approve! I’m using soul gems as well, and I agree that the rechargers should sell them. Filling empty gems for the guild is a source of income you’ll see in the next update. I had it in before, but I’m pretty sure it got dumped in the edit.

King Coin: Woo hoo, you’re caught up!! I had one game character who mouthed off to Savlian. His reply really humbled her. I’m glad you liked the map, I had to give it to Darnand. He’s not Mr. Wilderness. Now Jerric knows he should stay away from the ghosts, but do you think he will?

Kazaera: I’m glad you liked Pottersville. The local clay deposits are exactly why a whole village is dedicated to one trade. Wholesalers would be drawn to the town more than to isolated potteries, and shared resources would help with start-ups. I am so thrilled that you mentioned Jerric’s lateral thinking with the map.

Where we are: Kvatch. Jerric has a list of spells to learn from Vigge the Cautious. While he’s busy, we’ll follow Darnand on his assignment from chapter head Sigrid to learn what’s going on with the Mages Guild supplier at Shetcombe Farm. I should mention that the note in this episode is borrowed directly from the game, but I did change one verb tense that bugged me.



Chapter 12: Return to Kvatch Part 8

Morning mist still lay in the hollows as Darnand and Banner turned away from the rising sun. The road around the base of the Kvatch plateau was wide and even with a dirt track on either side. They made good time past the carts and early foot traffic.

They slowed to a walk as they passed into a small community. The cliffs loomed up on the left. Tidy cottages lined both sides of the road. A few little dirt lanes wound between them, giving access to more homes behind, clustered thick as mushrooms. The smells of manure, compost, and a whiff of privies lay under a pall of wood smoke. Pottersville, Darnand decided.

They passed a bustling alley off to the right and then turned onto the parallel main street. Jerric had been correct. There was no way to mistake this town.

No building stood over a single story, and Darnand could make little sense of the hive of sheds, shops, and shelters he saw stretching all the way back to the alleys behind each street-front establishment. It was clear to him what he would find in the showrooms, however. Each shop displayed racks of finished wares on its covered porch, while the rooms stayed shuttered against the chill. Some seemed to specialize in specific ceramic items, while others offered a variety of goods in all the same glaze. One shop displayed kahve and tea pots in shapes from the mundane to the fantastic. For a moment Darnand thought that another purveyed only dinner plates for giants, until he realized that the samples must be made larger to show the intricately painted designs from the street.

The center of town boasted two taverns, a general store, and an inn at the crossroads. The side streets were lined with low buildings backing up to the potteries. Darnand knew it was the center of town, for he could see the end. He stopped to make a mark on his map. Further embellishment could wait for proper tools and a writing surface. Moments later he rode through another cluster of tiny houses and out of Pottersville.

Darnand glanced at his map to confirm his turn east along the farm lane. Some modest farm houses fronted the lane with their holdings behind them, while others lay in the distance at the end of their own rutted tracks. Darnand saw fallow fields, brown pastures, and few animals other than sheep. He rode until he spotted someone within hailing distance.

“Shetcombe Farm?” he called to a woman as she crossed her barnyard.

She carried a bucket in each hand, so she jerked her chin in the direction he was travelling.

Eventually he found a goose girl who was willing to chat.

“Old mer Seringi’s place,” she confirmed, smiling up at him. Her geese snapped at the grass along the lane’s edge. “He’s an odd one. I hope you have time to listen to his rantings. Man’s lies and deceit and reaping what we sow are all he wants to talk about. That’s funny, because he sows flax seeds. What else does he think he’s going to reap? You’ll find Shetcombe Farm at the end of a lane off that way to your right. It backs up to the old clay pits with the plateau up in the distance behind. There’s no marker, but the lane is as wide as this one and paved in stone for the ox carts. They don’t use those pits any more, but the road is still there. You can’t miss it.”

The girl smiled up at him some more, all blue eyes and freckles. She wore her blonde braids caught up into loops under her ears and tied with red ribbons. An Imperial, Darnand decided, with more than one Nord in her family. She carried a white painted shepherd’s staff decorated with more ribbons, and her bright blue cloak was embroidered with flowers a foot deep at the hem.

“I thank you,” said Darnand. He nudged Banner back into motion.

When they reached the empty road, he let Banner stretch his legs a little along the wide shoulder. Darnand was always at risk of riding past his destination, lost in his thoughts. The exhilarating pace kept him on task.

The small farmhouse beside the road had to be the Seringi place, Darnand decided. Dead leaves had drifted against the front door. Dry flower stalks stood unharvested in the fields. Darnand made Banner safe and comfortable in the empty corral before he approached the cottage.

The lock opened easily for his spell. The smells of stale food and recent mice greeted him as he stepped inside. “Hail the house,” he said, looking around the cottage’s single room.

Empty. Slythe Seringi clearly lived alone, had little interest in the decorative arts, and had not been home in some time. Darnand drifted automatically to the bookshelf.

Some time later he remembered his assignment. There was only one place in here that a man could sit and write.

“Oh good,” said Darnand, standing at the table. “A note.”

As midnight approaches, I still watch the fires burn. The great city of man, Kvatch, lies in ruins. They didn't heed my words. They didn't listen to my voice. Now, they are all paying the cost of ignorance. The Sunken One strikes swift and hard. He swats those who oppose Him as if they did not exist at all. The excuses of man fall upon deaf ears. The Sunken One has no pity; He has no mercy, He only sits below and passes sentence. And now, with a mighty stroke, He's toppled one of man's pitiful blights on His land. And yet, He still hungers. His appetite is voracious. Kvatch will not be the last city to fall by His hand. The world of man grows more and more corrupt, and it angers Him. Man's lies and deceit will be his undoing as The Sunken One grows impatient and no longer waits for or accepts the proper offering.

The burden is mine to shoulder. I am the last who knows of He Who Shakes The Ground. If I do not bring him the Offering, who knows what city may fall prey to his whim? Anvil? Chorrol? Or perhaps He will turn his eyes on the greatest boil of all, the great Imperial City itself. No, I must not let that happen. I must get the Offering to him like my father did before me. Man may be fallen in His eyes, but they must have time to learn The Sunken One's teachings. Destroying man now would be a waste, when I am certain that given the chance, they will come to see His ways. Yes, I will do this thing. I will brave the depths of Sandstone Cavern to see Him. My weapons will be my will and my word. The Sunken One will watch over me and guide me. I must depart soon, before it is too late. If anyone finds this page, let them know that I, Slythe Seringi, do this for the good of all man.

___

Darnand doubted that the mer’s deity was responsible for the destruction of Kvatch, or that Mehrunes Dagon had found harbor under a clay pit. Seringi’s absence indicated that his will and word must have been insufficient for his task. Perhaps he should have armed himself with wits, thought Darnand. He wondered if He Who Shakes the Ground had been the end of Seringi, or if the nature of the mer’s offering had proven fatal. Even if he had simply met an accident, it looked as if he had been gone too long to survive the wait for rescue.

Darnand considered his options. ‘He is not there’ would fulfill his commitment, but it sounded inadequate. Returning with help might be excessive if the mer had simply tripped and bumped his head. It seemed likely from his writing that he had bumped it at least once before. Darnand returned to the bookshelf. The hand-illustrated History of Pottersville, Tannertown, and the Hamlet of Trine penned by Seringi himself contained a discourse on local geology, he had already discovered. He found it on the shelf next to Seringi’s other work, Drains, Wells, and Cisterns: the Mysterious Waterways of the Kvatch Plateau.

“Right,” said Darnand, opening the book to a map. “Sandstone Cavern.”

So we are off to Harry Pottersville. Here is the obligatory song to listen to while visiting the place.

You paint a vivid picture of the little pottery settlement, and its freckled inhabitants. I could not help but to think of Little Bo Peep when you described her!

Darnand drifted automatically to the bookshelf.
Some time later he remembered his assignment.
This is our Breton alright! Jerric might stop to chat up everyone in Pottersville, but Darnand will stop to read every book!

So now Darnand is off to Sandstone Cavern. His motivations are solid. As he ruminated, just going back and saying "sorry, he wasn't home." would really be weak. Of course at this point, Darn really does not know what he is getting himself into.



nits:
The world of man grows more and more corrupt
Usually people capitalize Man when they mean to refer to the human race. Or at least all the males, since obviously the existence of us women is not worth acknowledging. Sorry, don't mean to get preachy with you. ES is full of of Man, not to mention the Real World, so it is completely appropriate. It is just one of my pet peeves.