Ooh, I loved the ride out to Pottersville! And it really is as I imagined it would be. (Here we go again with more proof that great minds think alike.) I'm surprised that Darnand was able to notice so much of our local friendly goose girl!

As for the usage of Man in Slythe's note, well, he is a mer, and not a politically correct one at that, either. So I just let the "Man" in his note slide as the ranting of an addled bigot. Darnand may be more right than he knows in his thinking that Slythe had bumped his head before. Probably when he was reaping what he sowed?

I remember the first time I played this quest - I honestly had no idea what I was getting into. That first imp made me jump! Then the whole dungeon was just creeeeepy as 'blivion. Brrgh!

SGM!

What a beautiful picture of Potterstown you paint. Oh, and the goose girl was a delight that I’m glad you lingered to detail us with.

’Darnand was always at risk of riding past his destination, lost in his thoughts.’
How very Darnand! And, . . . I can identify with the sentiment.

’Seringi’s absence indicated that his will and word must have been insufficient for his task.’
Another fabulous observation that fully incorporates Darnand’s style of thinking.

I loved the creativity you put into the books quilled by the cabin’s owner.

Just a delightful episode!

...the samples must be made larger to show the intricately painted designs from the street.

Now that's got me searching the internet for where I've seen them IRL. Great detail!

Methinks Darnand's Daedroth might not be enough for what he's about to face. (Has he named it yet?)

Grits, I'm not up to reading right now. (spent mostly all of yesterday in the hospital ER). "I'll be back" (said in an "Arnold" voice) to read this when I feel good enough to appreciate your work. (sorry).

Pottersville sounds like an interesting place. I kind of want to go there now. You say it’s outside of Kvatch? Too bad Aravi’s too busy to go look for it. Lol.

Zoning out on the road just sounds like a bad idea, especially with the number of bandits around. I’m glad Darnand was able to stay on task.

I’ve forgotten what lies below Sandstone Cave. Rather than looking at the wiki, I’ll let it be a surprise.

I found Darnand’s casual dismissal of Seringi pretty funny. Sounds like what I would think.

Good chapter!

I love your lead-in to one of my favorite side quests. My character usually does it early and uses the house till she can afford one of her own, lol. Awesome Write !!

SubRosa: Yay, Counting Crows! I was thinking of Rosie Cotton dancing with ribbons in her hair. The note comes straight from the game, I forgot to acknowledge it. (Oops.) I took Slythe’s capitalizations as an effort to show that his Offering and his Sunken One were holy, and capitalizing man there would cloud the issue. I also took man in Slythe’s context to mean the gender-inclusive humanity or mankind, as opposed to all mortals or just elfkind. I see your point, though. If it were my note, I would have written it differently.

haute ecole rider: Darnand has the tendency to hyper-focus that makes people so fun to prank. I doubt if he would have noticed her at all if he wasn’t looking for someone to ask directions. Of course his reaction to the cute, friendly girl was see-ya-bye! Thank you for the SGM, I’m honored!

Acadian: I’m glad you liked the goose girl. I wanted to show that even in the shadow of Kvatch, some girls still tie ribbons in their hair. Thank you for noticing that Darnand-flavored thought. It is not easy for me to set Jerric aside (he’s loud!) and hear things the way Darnand thinks them. Slythe just had to have some of his own literary offerings on his shelf. He was such a dedicated journal writer, even as he lay dying.

ghastley: No name for Darnand’s daedroth. He might call it “Nightmare-Creature-of-Awesome-Power-That-is-Mine-All-Mine-To-Control-Mwa-Ha-Ha,” but not in front of other people. I can’t place those big plates in the real world, either, but I know I must have seen them somewhere!

mALX: I’m the same way, I’m sure at least one of my characters still has a pile of stuff on the floor at Shetcombe Farm. I think this was the first side quest I ever did. I was confused throughout!

King Coin: Maybe there will be a Pottersville in Skyrim. If you ever hear about a guy riding his horse off a cliff, it might be Darnand. Yep, he knows too much about the daedric invasion to think that some flax farmer could have been the key to saving the world. (Instead it’s some priest of Akatosh? Good thing Jauffre didn’t have to convince Darnand to go fetch the heir for him.)

Where we are: Darnand is unraveling the mystery of the missing flax seeds at Shetcombe Farm. Slythe’s second note is lifted from the game, but I have taken some liberties with the third one. (Which appears in the episode after this one.)



Chapter 12: Return to Kvatch Part 9

Darnand walked through the dry grass toward the rocky outcrop that should conceal the entrance to Sandstone Cavern. He glanced over his shoulder at the Kvatch plateau to check his course. Seringi watched the city burn from here, he realized. The screams would not have carried this far. He turned his thoughts away quickly, but a chill already crept through his belly.

He ran his preparations through his mind, touching each piece of equipment to reassure himself. The walking stick rode across his back, strapped over his chest and fastened with the knot Jerric had shown him. One tug would loosen it, and he could have the stick in a defensive position with a single practiced motion. The walking stick itself had been the smallest part of Jerric’s Saturalia gift. Training sessions with Huurwen of the Fighters Guild had begun on the day after Saturalia. She taught him to block with the staff as well as one striking technique to use on Jerric as a prank. The surprise worked. Darnand split Jerric’s lip open the next time they practiced his blocking. Darnand was horrified, but Jerric roared with laughter. It was difficult for Darnand to tell if his friend had retaliated, since the Nord's version of light contact already left Darnand decorated with welts and bruises. Jerric told him that the pain made him stronger, so he was reluctant to heal it away. Of course, that could easily be another one of Jerric’s jests.

A satchel rested on his hip, also slung across a shoulder. Darnand slipped a hand under the flap to check the contents. Empty soul gems, a few healing and dispel potions, waxed parchment and empty pouches for alchemy ingredients, a water skin, and one of the sandwiches that Jerric had tucked into his saddlebag this morning. His fingers found the map, scrolls, charcoal pencil, ink stick, brush, and cheap paper in the writing compartment. No books today. He felt vaguely unsettled without even one.

Lastly, Darnand checked the blanket he wore folded at his back, tucked under his belt. If he found remains, Seringi could travel back to the farm wrapped in his own blanket.

The ground dropped away in front of the outcrop, forming a wide, low cavern. The ruins of a wooden wall with a broken door were visible at the back. Someone had sealed it off once. Darnand moved his walking stick to his hand as he began to descend the slope. It would be foolish to tumble down the hill with it still on his back. But not unprecedented, he had to admit.

He stopped beside a bush and crouched down to observe the area, as Lildereth had taught him. A light wind ruffled the dry grass and hissed through the widely spaced fir trees. Birds chirped in the shrubbery to his rear, informing him that no enemy crept up behind him. Darnand began to feel silly, huddled down in the grass on a fine winter morning.

Motion caught his eye at the front of the cavern. A gray creature winged out of the shadows to land on the rocky ground. Something chittered, and the creature replied with a high, squeaky trill.

Imps. Now Darnand could see that some of the rocks were imps, warming themselves in the morning sun. His life detection spell showed him more still roosting near the cavern’s ceiling. There were enough imps down there to fill his empty soul gems with magicka, he estimated.

But too many to tackle on his own. His stars gave him a great well of magicka, but even with his natural resistance and the ring Jerric had enchanted for him, he was still vulnerable to magical attacks. If they swarmed him, he wouldn’t be able to escape. Darnand cast the spell to make himself invisible and walked slowly down to the cavern.

The breeze hid his progress through the grass, and the stick helped him step lightly. Within moments Darnand eased through the broken door into the cave, nervous sweat prickling his palms and armpits.

A passageway had been cut into the stone. Darnand took several steps into shadow before he cast the spell to let him see in the dark. The passage led straight ahead at a downward angle. Faint pink glows moving in the distance told him that a chamber lay before him, and he was not alone. In a few more steps he could tell that the creatures were rats.

Darnand knelt in the corridor, bringing spells to the front of his mind. Rats could jump and bite, but they died quickly. This was an excellent opportunity to practice a touch spell at minimal risk to his person. He would cast the soul trap spell with his left hand from a distance, then reach out and absorb the rats’ life energy into his own with a touch from his right hand. He would keep his walking stick ready in his left hand, in case something went amiss.

The chamber appeared to be a natural cavern. Tree roots hung down from the ceiling like great dangling snakes. The floor was level, but broken with jutting rocks and rubble. Darnand moved into a place where he thought the formations would naturally funnel the rats toward him. Then he cast his first spell.

The plan worked. Before he could think again, Darnand had power thrumming through the gems in his satchel, a new gouge on his walking stick, and a hand sticky with sweat and rat hair. He took a deep breath and searched the chamber.

The remains of wooden crates, burned out torches, and a fire pit indicated some past use. Smugglers, Darnand guessed. Serinigi’s history of the region told of traffic between Valenwood, Elsweyr, and Hammerfell. Two corridors opened out of the cavern in addition to the one that led back to the surface. One was thick with spider webs. The other looked clear. Darnand moved into the cleaner passageway. He doubted that Seringi had passed through the webs.

The corridor changed direction and elevation, but it led unbranching to a closed wooden door. Darnand watched more pink glows move on the other side, in what had to be a chamber.

Wolves, he guessed, or dogs. The door must keep them from eating the rats he found near the entrance. It might protect him if he had to flee. He had no hope of sneaking invisibly past wolves, they would smell him. Their fangs would tear through his flesh like a spoon through pudding. Darnand reached for his Breton’s shield power. The Dragon Skin slipped over his own with a flicker across his vision. His scamp might draw more wolves to attack it than his dry skeleton would. His fire spells should frighten them. But first he would cast the spell to trap their energies.

He hoped he would have enough magicka. Summoning a daedroth in panic was not an option any more. Darnand readied his spells as he reached for the door.

Something made him pause. Lildereth. Thinking too much like Jerric could get him killed before midday. Another plan came to his mind.

Five wolves turned their snouts toward Darnand when he stepped through the door. Two immediately started for him, growling. Darnand cast the spell that would make them turn on each other, first at the closest wolf, then at one near the middle of the chamber. He had plenty of time to cast the soul trap spell on each of them during the snarling, yelping fight. One small flare finished the survivor where it staggered on three legs, bleeding from its throat. Darnand leaned on the door frame for a moment, letting his heart slow down again.

This cavern was finished as a room, crude but snug. Light beamed down from an opening in the ceiling onto a fire pit against one wall. Book shelves and cabinets lined another. Two long tables stood to one side, each with a chair. The wolves had been sleeping under the narrow bed. Bones and shreds of carpeting littered the floor. Darnand stepped carefully around the bodies as he searched the room. Between the rats and the wolves, he began to wonder if anything remained of Slythe Seringi.

The shelves were empty and crusted with a century’s worth or more of dust. One table had been swept clear, and one chest looked as if it had been used recently. The lid fell off as he opened it. Inside he found a neatly folded paper.

A page intended for my journal, written this 15 of Hearthfire 433
by Slythe Seringi

As I descend into the depths of Sandstone Cavern, I wonder to myself... why? Why does The Sunken One test me so? Have I not been loyal? Have I not spread His word? Have I not obeyed His laws? This journey has been cruel and unfair. I've nearly met my end more than once. I don't know if I can make it to His home. But no, I cannot think this way! I must get there! I must see Him. If I do not, then the world of man is doomed. I dare not tarry longer, as I do not wish to suffer His wrath. I must get the Offering to Him.

Darnand tucked the page into his bag for Sigrid. Three months and twenty days had passed since Seringi had quilled it. The ashes in the fire pit looked like they could be that recent, Seringi must have rested here after his own struggle with the cave’s wildlife. Darnand guessed that the chamber’s original occupant had been a mage. He knew a wizard’s lair when he saw one. This place would tempt him, if not for the imps. The wolves had to get in a different way, he realized. Perhaps there is a side entrance.

Another passage opened out of the room, and this one’s door hung askew. Darnand reached for his water before he moved on. His Dragon Skin would not last very long, and he did not want to leave the cave before he found Seringi. His magicka returned faster than most mages,’ but it would not be fully restored until after his Dragon Skin had faded. He would have his shield or more magicka before he faced danger again, but not both. Darnand took a drink as he considered the implications.

A sour taste filled his mouth, and the water burned up his nose as he choked on it. Not water, he realized, coughing. A potion. He felt magicka welling up inside him like honey from a comb.

This was Jerric’s doing. He must have mentioned it this morning when they packed the saddlebags. Darnand remembered Jerric speaking earnestly about mustard before his attention strayed. His friend had slept only a few hours, all of them badly. Jerric walked Darnand down to the stables before dawn, he claimed to check on the horses. Darnand suspected that he did not want to return to his dreams with no one there to wake him.

Another sip should be enough, Darnand estimated. How fortunate that he grabbed this water skin from the saddlebag instead of the one with water in it. Everything about Jerric’s potion making put Darnand on edge. The casual estimates instead of measuring, the fine instruments in his rough hands, his careless technique. Most annoying was his use of unlabeled, unapproved containers. Darnand smiled as he tucked the bag away. Thank the Nine for Jerric.

Darnand is a much more careful person than Jerric is, which is to be expected. I don’t remember you mentioning Jerric running though a mental checklist before entering some strange place. Darnand on the other hand does it. And he’s being extra careful because he’s alone when he’s used to Jerric around to help pull his *** out of the fire.

Oh wow Jerric gave him a sandwich? I’m… speechless.

No book?

Darnand is going to be fun to play in Skyrim with the two hand casting!

I like how he’s forcing himself to think like Lilfereth. Jerric has the brawn to just wade into situations, Darnand does not.

Most annoying was his use of unlabeled, unapproved containers. Darnand smiled as he tucked the bag away. Thank the Nine for Jerric.
I loved the whole paragraph but this is such a great way to end the section.

Everything about Jerric’s potion making put Darnand on edge. The casual estimates instead of measuring, the fine instruments in his rough hands, his careless technique.

Why does this remind me of cookery?

Nit:
...waxed parchment and empty pouches for alchemy ingredients, a water skin, and one of the sandwiches...

How fortunate that he grabbed this water skin from his pack instead of the one with water in it.

Continuity problem. He's got only one water skin going in, and more than one when he drinks.

Jerric told him that the pain made him stronger, so he was reluctant to heal it away. Of course, that could easily be another one of Jerric’s jests.
That does sound like a Nord, either seriously or in jest!

No books today. He felt vaguely unsettled without even one.
Oh noes!

Tree roots hung down from the ceiling like great dangling snakes.
A nice description. I usually think of tentacles. But that is probably from too much Cthulhu Mythos...

Wolves in a cave? I know that is standard in the game, but you might want to rethink that, and replace them with more imps. How did wolves get in there, through a closed door, with a pack of imps at the entrance? Even if there is a side entrance they might have used, why would they bother in the first place? Wolves are not subterranean creatures. If they were under the command of a vampire, or other such beastie that can enthrall them, then it would work.

This was wonderful! Gosh, you do Darnand so well! The true absent minded academic. Too interested in ‘why’ and overanalyzing and filling his soul gems sometimes to focus on his self preservation; while at the same time he, no doubt, considers Jerric reckless! Thank the Nine for Lildereth and her obvious ability to teach both these fellows a couple things.

How very like Darnand to use a checklist before entering a dungeon, then lamenting that his satchel contains no books (although he is well stocked with writing material at least).

I absolutely loved the image you painted of the imps sunning themselves in the winter morning sun. Gotta warm those little wings up!

I loved the second paragraph - Darnand's inner dialogue about his trainings with Jerric was hilarious and telling about each. In itself it continues to show the deep and close friendship the two have and the differences in their personalities.

I don't like the idea of Darnand taking on this cavern alone, it smacks of a tragic ending for Darnand - something I don't want to see happen! ARGH !!! Jerric's potion slid into the water bag was ingenious. (his urgent ramblings about mustard had me laughing, lol).

I agree with KC, Darnand's trying to think like Lildereth instead of Jerric is a good thing - he does not have the bulk required to charge in and take prisoners.

Awesome Write!! (tension building and leaving the chapter on a subtle cliffhanger, though) !!!

I'm back on the same page as everyone else now.

The one thing I love the most about your writing is all of the little things you do. Your nuances and subtleties make your characters really come to life. This is not something that can be performed idly, and it's great to watch how your writing skills have improved as you progressed through the tale. Do I envy you for this? Maybe. But I mean that as a compliment.

King Coin: When Jerric gives you a sandwich, you know you’re in his inner circle. Thank you for pointing out the differences between how Darnand and Jerric would approach this situation. And as you saw, Lildereth has had an influence, too.

ghastley: I think it’s safe to say that Jerric would be an intuitive cook, but an unsuccessful baker. Thank you for the nit, I clarified it.

SubRosa: I thought about whether or not Cyrodiil’s wolves would den in dry caves, since they have scarier predators to contend with than Earth wolves do. I decided that they might, especially now that daedra have come calling. The poor things probably thought that the closed door was a wall until Darnand came through it. You’re right, they would not have come through an imp colony and a closed door. As Darnand speculated, there must be another entrance close by. Of course, he was thinking of his own future cave lair requirements.

Acadian: You’re right, so far Lildereth’s teaching has kept Sigrid from having to send the next guild hopeful after a dead Breton! Thank you for your kind words about Darnand. I can totally imagine him looking at a puppy while fingering an empty soul gem and thinking, hmm, I wonder how much magicka… I always wonder if he will see the line before or after he crosses it.

mALX: That he might share Slythe’s fate is not something that has occurred to Darnand, you’re right to be worried! Jerric should learn to say the important part first, but he probably thought that the thing about the mustard was the important part. Thank you, mALX! The second paragraph was important to me. I wanted to touch on some things that would have dragged too long in the story.

Thomas Kaira: Thank you, TK! This has been a major learning experience. I’m glad you’re back.

Where we are: Darnand is searching for Slythe Seringi in Sandstone Cavern. But first, an interlude from Abiene.

The Chapel of Stendarr
Chorrol

5 Morning Star, 433


Dear Ilonea,


Thank you so much for the hair cream, it arrived just as I left in the coach for Chorrol. You spoil me, and I am all the happier for it. The scent brings me back to those joyful hours I spent at your side in our kitchens. I begin each day with the comfort of those memories.

I am settled in to my quarters here at the chapel. Ilonea, you would wring your hands to see the nest in which your little lark has landed. My chamber is all stone walls and floor, with not even a scrap of carpet to warm it. The door is heavy enough to contain a land dreugh, but I suppose it helps keep out the noise from the corridor. I have a bed that is just large enough to not be called a cot, but the mattress is thick and my blankets warm. I am allowed one candle, and my night stand is hardly large enough to hold it. I hang my gowns and cloaks on pegs, so my walls are decorated in brown flax and woolens. A Nord could stand in the middle of my cell and nearly brush all of the walls with his fingertips. I have no windows, so midday and midnight are the same once I close the door. I suppose it is for the best, as I keep odd hours and sleep when I may.

Although it sounds as if I have entombed myself here in Chorrol, my life is far from solitary. Every waking moment is spent in the company of patients, priests, and healers. I take my meals in the chapel’s great hall when my schedule permits, and the healing hall has a small chamber where we may dine and rest. The chapel’s library would make Papa clap his hands with delight. I sit here beside a lovely fire as I write. These hours are golden to me, as thoughts of loved ones bring you close in my mind. I spend more time than I would like in the compounding room. You would not be pleased to see the stains on my fingers.

But oh, I am learning. My master is a cold mer, and I have come to believe that he needs to be that way. Do you remember what happened with my little cat Stockings? Well, now I know what I should have done. A healer cannot be so soft-hearted, but it is not in me to be completely unfeeling. You told me once that I would find my own way. I have not found it yet, but I am searching.

I have mixed up a powder for you, Ilonea. You must now imagine my most severe tone, and do not argue. Drink one pinch dissolved in a cup of warm water, morning and night. One of your pinches, not one of mine. It does not taste delicious, but drink it just the same. I am afraid that it will stain your teeth if you simply take the powder. In two weeks’ time, you should feel some relief. (If your skin begins to break out in spots or rough patches, discontinue the powder and drink the contents of the vial I have enclosed. Do not ask me what is in the vial, just trust that it is as disgusting as you imagine. I sincerely hope that you will not need to drink it.)

I have also enclosed a woman’s tea for Sidette. She should drink one dose each day for ten days, beginning on the first day of her moons’ blood. I have included instructions in the packet. No, she has not confided anything to me that would suggest a need for it. However, it is far better that she should drink her tea without a reason than act on an impulse and regret it later. This is my own blend, with raspberry leaf added to ease her cramps and mint for flavor. It will taste best with a drop of honey.

Mother’s last letter seemed especially cross and threatening. I would be glad to send you something for her nerves, if you wish. Or perhaps something for the rest of you who must live with her. I know it is no substitute for my presence. I thank you every day for letting me go.


As always, Ilonea, I remain,

Your loving Abiene

___

The Chapel of Stendarr
Chorrol

5 Morning Star, 433


Darnand, my dear Friend,


I hope this letter finds you in still in Skingrad. The Imperial Post has not been slowed here by any Gates to Oblivion. We have heard of Gates opening in the West Weald, however. Please be careful.

I am bursting with ideas I want to discuss with you, but most should wait until we may speak in person. You and I are of the same mind regarding those aspects of Restoration that we recently explored. My observations here at the chapel lead me to believe that we are not alone in our views, and that there are others who might even share our ambitions. Cyrodiil once had a Healers Guild, separate from the Guild of Mages. I am anxious to learn your thoughts on that subject.

I am sorry that I am such a poor summoner. Your words come to me clearly through the crystal ball, but I can tell that sometimes you struggle to understand me. When our minds meet, it seems more like a feeling than a voice in my ears. Is that how it is supposed to be? I can see your face in the crystal, but I also get the idea of where you are, almost like a memory. I hope I am not conveying too much when we touch. I would not wish to make you uncomfortable.

By now you have shared a tent with Jerric for weeks. Please tell me the truth. Is he still having the dream? Even if he would write to me, I know he would not say. We spoke of it before you left Anvil, you are not betraying a confidence by telling me. It concerns me that you both keep placing yourselves in danger if he is still so troubled. Remember the potions and spells that I showed you, he might let you help him. I know it is not my place, but you know that will not stop me from meddling.

I miss our quiet evening walks, my friend. When I step outside the healing hall here in Chorrol, the air has teeth. I can feel the cold pouring down from the mountains at night. There are no soft sea mists here, and it seems that I last stood in Leyawiin’s heavy fog in another lifetime. I hope that you will have time to show me your old home when you come to Chorrol for your recommendation. I have heard your family’s name, but I have not sought them out. I would like to give you letters of introduction for your visit to my home, since I cannot accompany you. I want you to meet my Papa. I am certain that you and he will enjoy one another’s company. My sister Sidette will attempt to smother you with attention. You must ignore her.

I feel my magicka returning, so I must close and return to my rounds. Every day I think of you, Darnand. To think that you were once my student, and now I miss your counsel. I wish you a safe journey, my friend.


My fondest regards,

Abiene

___

The Chapel of Stendarr
Chorrol

5 Morning Star, 433


Oh my dearest Thaurron, how I miss you!


I will not tell you about my life here at the chapel. As you predicted, each lesson comes at a price. You taught me that death is merely one point on a circle, but I cannot help but think it is an enemy that I must keep at bay. Each eternal spirit may come around again, but I see too much loss and grief for those who are left behind, missing loved ones in their mortal forms.

But enough of that. I must tell you of events in my own fashion, which by the end will have convinced you to come and visit me!

You know my Papa continues to send me a stipend, though my needs are few and easily met. Here in Chorrol, he sends it to the care of a shop owner by the name of Seed-Neeus. This worthy lady is an Argonian living in the Colovian Highlands, if you can believe it. Her daughter is as unique as she, but I will get to her in a moment.

Seed-Neeus has a guest cottage adjacent to her shop. It backs up to a beautiful little park with the most glorious oak trees. It is quite private, even though many of Chorrol’s residents walk through the park instead of around on the streets. I rent it myself when I have a day off from my duties at the chapel. It is so pleasant to soak in a scented tub all alone by the fire, then stretch out with a book and a glass of wine on the feather bed.

But it would be so much better if you were there, too! Please say you will come. Seed-Neeus says that Sparky will be welcome, and there is nowhere in the cottage that he can hide his naughtiness. It is selfish of me to even ask it of you, as I have nothing to suggest for the hours I would be working. Except this:

Seed-Neeus has a daughter. Her name is Dar-Ma. She is the merriest, most kind-hearted girl I have ever known. Do you remember my brown quilted bodice with the green trim? She made one just like it for herself. She told me that she wants us to be close, since neither of us has a sister in Chorrol. That would sound strange coming from most folk, but this girl is so bubbly and charming, I could only be pleased. Thaurron, I am convinced that she is an Argonian born with the soul of a Bosmer. You simply must come and meet her! She will show you this gracious city through her eyes, in a way you have not seen it before. I know she will cheer you.

How are things in Anvil? Is there a new Breton for Marc to ogle through the walls? Has Carahil reassigned my bedchamber yet? What has Sparky stolen, eaten, or shredded?

This package holds a few little gifts for you. You should unwrap one whenever you’re feeling down, that is unless you have already opened them all before reading my letter! The silk scarf is for your imp. I meant to leave it for him to remember me by, but I was upset when I was packing and forgot.

On the subject of packing, you must remember to bring your cloak with the fox fur collar. I will not try to tell you that it is warm here.

I am missing you terribly after only one week, and shamelessly hoping to see you soon.


All of my love,

Abiene

Abiene sealed the last letter and set it aside. One more blank sheet of parchment rested on the writing table.

Jerric, she thought. My heart. I ache for you. I fear for you.

Her fingers twisted in her lap instead of reaching for the quill. She found that her sadness knew no words.



Abiene in Chorrol

Ooo, we're peeking at mail now?

The first letter paints a very detailed picture of what life is like in the Chapel of Stendarr. I have no doubt in my mind that it would be quite frigid up the way of Chorrol at winter, especially for someone who has lived most of her life in subtropics.

In the second letter, we get a taste of her deep concern for Jerric. Half the letter is about him! I would expect no less mollycoddling from one as compassionate as Abiene, though. Here we see her lovely personality dripping through every pore of the parchment as her hand scribes the ink. You just can't read this one without being touched.

In the third letter... I think Thaurron really would enjoy Dar-Ma! I also think I see a bit more between the lines.



I just love that Abiene never frets over the usual things. This passage speaks hugely to me of her dedication to her work.

Then we have the last bit. Poor Jerric, he's the only one not getting a letter this Saturalia! But I wonder what Abiene is so torn up about?

What a beautiful interlude - and one well worth pausing even the great Darnand cave caper for. It was wonderful to hear from Abiene again, and in her own candid intimate words to dear friends. You really made her shine here and reminded us of how very endearing she can be! The subtle variations in her tone to the three friend was so very fitting of the way you have portrayed each relationship.

And we see that Jerric really does hold a big piece of her heart.

’When I step outside the healing hall here in Chorrol, the air has teeth.’
Oooh! I really like your wording here. How wonderfully evocative.

So Abiene went to the chapel? Did she quit the Mages Guild and become a priestess? Or does the guild have some sort of arrangement with the church where they share members (and presumably share in payment)? It is an interesting idea, and I can see why you would use it. The game presents the chapels as always being a place to learn restoration after all. The idea of a Healer's Guild separate from the Mages Guild is interesting too. Although such a guild would not only compete with the Mages Guild, but also with the Chapels. So it would have a tough time staying in business. There is a mod that adds one, was that your inspiration?

Or perhaps something for the rest of you who must live with her.
Perhaps a little poppy juice?

So Abiene and Darnit are using a crystal ball telephone? A mphone (the m for magicka of course)? An interesting idea. It is something one can see the Elder Council and Legion use to maintain control over so vast a place as the Tamriel.

I know it is not my place, but you know that will not stop me from meddling.
Now that is a female!

the air has teeth
This is a wonderful description of cold mountain air.

An excellent trio of letters, each showing us a different side of the writer. We each have many personas, different modes of behaviour that we adopt, depending on whom we are with. There is the person we are at work, the one we are with our friends, the one with our parents, the one with our children, etc... You gave us a wonderful view of three facets of Abiene's personality, one per letter.

I also did not fail to notice that nearly half of her letter to Darnand was about Jerric. I wonder if Darnit will notice as well?

ARGH! So we are not to learn of Darnand's fate? URK! Still hanging on the cliff here, lol. Abiene's letters (if anything increased the tension of Darnand's situation for me due to their timing) - very like what I've come to know of her so far.

The funniest (to me) was the tea designations - (don't tell her it is for any REASON) - so I'm assuming Sidette has a PMS issue that she is touchy about, ROFL !!

The Jerric letter - that one will be awfully hard to do, since she can't exactly put what is in her mind/heart down on paper for all the world to (possibly) read - because once something is in writing, somehow it is always found and read by another - usually the worst possible person to come across it for either the writer or the recipient (or both), lol.

Great Write, even if it still leaves us in limbo as to Darnand's safety !!! (ARGH! URK!!!)

In Chorrol, Abiene’s quarters sound like a cell! If this was in Bruma however I think it would be cozy. When I think of Chorrol I think of sunlight and fresh breezes so no windows would be torture.

Is the chapel’s library anything like the library in the Mage’s Guild hall there? That library is wonderful.

I didn’t know Abiene was a mail order pharmacist.

I’m guessing Ilonea is a sister?

The warning to Darnand about Sidette is hilarious! Some competition going on there?

The bit about Seed-Neeus and her daughter was nice. Those are two NPCs that Aravi likes. As you know she doesn’t make many friends, but they are just too kind.

Poor Abiene doesn’t know what to say to Jerric. I hope she can find some words.

I love your writing Grits. You describe things brilliantly, I can easily picture Pottersville or Sandstone Cavern in my head. And I love how you sprinkle humor into your writing, it makes it that much sweeter.

I particularly liked this:

It gave me a good chuckle.
Anyway, I hope to read more of Jeric and Darnand and Abiene soon.

I added a screenshot of Abiene in Chorrol to the last episode.

Thomas Kaira: Indeed, this Breton is about as far removed from the Wrothgarian Mountains as one can be. She can’t be there to coddle her friends, so she’s bossing them around from afar. Thank you for your kind words about her! Abiene is just missing her man, and upset that she doesn’t know what to write to him. Plus she’s seen what the next few years look like for her, and it will be a far cry from her life in Anvil. Add that to the cold climate and a serious endorphin withdrawal, and you get one unhappy Abiene.

Acadian: Thank you, Acadian! I felt like I should have introduced her with, Meanwhile, up north in Chorrol… In her own words is exactly right. I had to wait for it, but then she just took over. Thank you for noticing her differing tones as she coaxed, cajoled, and scolded her loved ones in her own way. It warms my heart that you find her endearing.

SubRosa: Yes, Abiene has given up her cushy job with the Mages Guild, but not her membership. Moving to Chorrol to learn surgery and medicine was a major decision for her, and a big risk. Carahil gave Abiene her personal recommendation, but I didn’t mean to give the Mages Guild any pull with the chapel. I got the idea for a Healers Guild from the Heavy Armor skill book Fighters Guild History, 1st Ed.. “In the 321st year of the 2nd Era, the Potentate gave his approval to the Guilds Act, officially sanctioning the Mages, together with the Guilds of Tinkers, Cobblers, Prostitutes, Scribes, Architects, Brewers, Vintners, Weavers, Ratcatchers, Furriers, Cooks, Astrologers, Healers, Tailors, Minstrals [sic], Barristers, and the Syffim.“ Of course I read this long after I started my story. My idea is that the Healers Guild could have been assimilated into the Mages Guild at some point, explaining why no one has mentioned it in the story. My thinking was exactly what you pointed out, the healers would be in competition with the MG and the chapels. Thank you, SubRosa!

mALX: I’m sorry! I do feel bad about leaving Darnand on the cliff, but not bad enough to cross Abiene when she’s being forceful. Sidette’s tea is for birth control, but it will also help with her period problems. I didn’t know how to make it clear without spelling it out, which Abiene would not do. Ilonea would know exactly what Abiene’s “own blend” was for. She was telling Ilonea that Sidette had not announced that she was sleeping with anyone, but Abiene took it upon herself to provide some of her own precautionary measures to her sister. Her thinking is that at age twenty and still unmarried, Sidette should be prepared. Also since she can’t be there to look after people, she sometimes feels the need to boss them around. You’re right, Abiene could easily write the kind of letter that would cause a situation in Jerric’s pants, but that would be pretty risky. Thank you, mALX!

King Coin: A cell, exactly, Abiene has gone from luxury at the guild hall to novice quarters at the chapel with no windows and no fireplace! She’s also gone from making a good living to being a student again. She does get to use the chapel’s facilities, though. I did have that beautiful Chorrol MG library style in mind for the chapel as well. Ilonea is the Metonne’s housekeeper who practically raised Abiene. She’s mentioned in Jerric’s Story, but she appears in person in Home for the Holidays. You’re exactly right about Abiene’s sisterly jealousy when she imagines Sidette fawning over Darnand. Even though she tells herself she’s not interested in him anymore, the claws are out.

TheBrume: Hello, and welcome! Thank you for the compliments. I’m glad you’re enjoying the story. I’m also very glad that you’re posting your own story here!

Where we are: Darnand is searching for Slythe Seringi in the depths of Sandstone Cavern.


Chapter 12: Return to Kvatch Part 10

Darnand made his way cautiously through the chambers and tunnels of Sandstone Cavern. Many seemed to have been carved through the rock by streams of water, long gone. He found the wolves’ entrance through a fissure in the rock. Daylight shone down, though he could not see the sky. He would have to scrabble through dirt on his hands and knees to use that exit, but there was plenty of room for him to pass. Wolves were considerably larger than Bretons.

The cave’s rats filled his soul gems with their dying energy, and the giant spiders skittered away from his flares. He discovered several side passageways, but all contained the ubiquitous webs. Even after months, Serinigi’s path seemed fairly obvious. Until he reached a cavern that was devoid of any sign of life.

Darnand felt his magicka returning as he searched the chamber for Seringi. After the abundant cave life above, it was odd that no creatures had made their home here. Even the empty caves had held bones, dried dung, and the shreds of nesting material. This cavern seemed sterile by comparison. He began to think that He Who Shakes the Ground might be a real entity.

The next corridor led down to a high-ceilinged chamber with a canyon running through the middle. Darnand found himself standing at one end checking for glowing signs of life on the ledges above. A few steps showed him that the chasm reached a dead end against the far wall of rock. A bundle of cloth on the ground caught his eye.

The body’s small, pointed ears and average frame indicated that this had probably been a Dunmer. When Darnand saw the words scrawled on the rock next to the body, he decided that this was definitely Seringi. The mer had finished his journal in his own blood even as he lay dying.

I am fallen.
I have failed.
All hope is lost.

A rough sack rested next to the body. The Offering, Darnand guessed. His dismissive thoughts about Seringi’s dedication now seemed disrespectful. Here lay a mer who had sacrificed himself to save others, Darnand included. That his death resulted from delusions made it sad, but no less noble. He tugged the blanket free of his belt.

A dull thud echoed down the passageway, followed by another. Darnand froze. More impacts followed, slowly approaching along the passageway through which Darnand had entered. Now he could hear a sharp crack with each one, like boulders striking together. There was no doubt, this had to be He Who Shakes the Ground. Darnand dropped the blanket and cast his invisibility spell.

His muscles felt rigid, but his thoughts flew. He should be safe while he remained invisible. His jump spell would get him up out of this narrow canyon, but he had no idea if he would find an exit beyond those ledges. He might be able to slip past the Sunken One without it noticing him. That was a better plan. From the echoes it seemed that the creature had almost reached the canyon’s entrance. Darnand stooped down and picked up his walking stick.

His arm shimmered into view as he rose, and the rest of him followed. A furious, trumpeting cry split the air.

Oh, sixteen hells, thought Darnand.

The far end of the canyon was now blocked by a being comprised of floating boulders revolving around an insubstantial center. It resolved into a bipedal shape and then dissolved into swirling rocks again. Shock energy crackled over its entirety. Each stone was at least the size of Darnand’s torso. A quiet part of his mind observed that the Sunken One was in fact a storm atronach.

The atronach spread its arms out to the sides, then brought them together with a crash. Darnand dropped flat on his chest next to Seringi as a mass of lightning bolts passed over him. Every hair on his body stood on end. He cast his panic spell as he scrambled back against the canyon’s dead end. Two more of the atronach’s steps shook the ground before Darnand’s view was blocked by his summoned daedroth.

The atronach trumpeted a challenge, answered immediately by the daedroth’s roar. It great tail thrashed against the chasm’s walls as it shook its shield spell down over itself. Darnand was grateful that it had lurched into this realm facing away from him. He found that he was cringing against the wall on his backside with his knees up, hands clamped over his ears.

The massive daedra came together with a crash and a roar. The daedroth reeled sideways into the wall, scattering Slythe’s body into pieces under its churning feet. Darnand caught a glimpse of the flailing storm atronach beyond it. Slipping past the fight was not an option. Darnand took a gulp of Jerric’s potion and brought his illegal spell to the front of his mind. He snatched up the walking stick and kicked off hard from the ground as he cast the jump spell. Another bolt of shock energy passed under his feet and cracked against the wall. It sees me, Darnand realized. He scrambled against the rock lip, clawing himself over the edge and onto a flat area. Another lightning bolt hit the cave ceiling, sending a shower of rock down somewhere beyond Darnand’s sight.

He glanced back down in time to see the daedroth backhand the storm atronach and send a blast of fire breath into it. Good enough for now, he thought, rolling away from the edge.

Darnand hadn’t seen any life signs when he scanned these upper areas. He secured the walking stick across his back as he eased along the ledge. The noise from below deafened him. More corridors were visible at this level on both sides of the canyon, but he couldn’t be sure where they would lead. Darnand decided to drop behind the battling daedra and flee the way he came in. His jump and vision spells were still active, and thanks to Jerric’s potion, his magicka was returning at an encouraging rate.

Darnand jumped down behind the atronach just as it loosed another shock spell at the daedroth. The daedroth’s howl covered the sound of his awkward landing. It had been difficult to practice a spell that he was not supposed to know.

As he straightened in the tunnel’s entrance, Darnand realized that the chamber was suddenly quiet. He turned to look back down the canyon. The atronach stood alone. Its rocks began to rotate as Darnand watched, horrified. It resolved back into its form facing in his direction.

Darnand ran.

Halfway up the tunnel, he cast his invisibility spell. He summoned his scamp as he reached the middle of the next chamber, cursing as the action caused him to flicker back into view. The thundering steps behind him paused long enough for the scamp’s dying shriek.

Darnand’s pace was too frantic to attempt any fortifying spells. He didn’t have the magicka to bring back his daedroth yet. Darnand cast invisibility again as he pelted up another tunnel. But this time he took a giant gulp of potion first.

The next chamber had plenty of cover. Darnand slid to his knees behind a rock. His throat burned as he gasped for breath.

The storm atronach’s progress through the tunnel was alarmingly fast, but comfortingly noisy. He ran through the spells he wanted to test for Jerric. A spell to give his target a weakness to magicka followed by a spell to weaken it to fire should result in an increase of both the fire weakness spell’s potency and the strength of any fire attack that followed.

The daedra thundered to a halt a dozen paces from Darnand’s position. He decided that casting three complicated spells while under close-quarters attack from a storm atronach was folly on the magnitude of sparring with a daedroth. He waited until the potion restored his magicka, then he gathered his legs under him.

Darnand cast the spell to bring his daedroth back from the Void, then turned and bolted while the daedra were still challenging one another. He remembered the spell to fortify his speed as he ran, but he had to pause in order to cast it. Before long his labored breathing drowned out the sounds of battle behind him. His feet took him unerringly to the wolf entrance.

He dropped to his knees in the opening, casting restorative spells as quickly as his magicka allowed. He strained to hear any sound of pursuit. After a few moments, the shaking eased along with the cramp in his side. Scrambling up the dirt tunnel might bring the whole thing down on him if he was not careful, but he did not want to escape a storm atronach only to get swarmed by imps. He took another swig of Jerric’s potion. Relief trickled in with the magicka.

Darnand began to wonder at the storm atronach’s nature. Could it have been summoned long ago by some wizard who lost control of it? Where did it get the energy necessary to sustain itself? Had Slythe himself summoned it so that it would take his Offering? Perhaps it only appeared when a mortal entered its lair. Yet the absence of wildlife suggested a persistent presence.

A summoned atronach would not become a corpse. One that had somehow bodily entered this realm would leave remains.

Darnand dried his sweaty hands and pushed himself to his feet in the corridor. Many rituals involved purification with a solution of void salts. They were rare and extremely difficult to procure without arousing suspicion. It would also be prudent to put Seringi’s remains to rest.

No sounds reached him from the depths of the cavern. He fixed his daedroth in his mind and stepped carefully back down the passageway.




(Here’s a Darnand’s-eye view of the daedroth vs. storm atronach battle.)

Well the invisibility plan was a good one… until Darnand forgot one of the limitations.

a Storm Atronach!

Daedroth vs Atronach! This’ll be fun!

I was hoping Darnand would have gotten a little farther with the time his summon bought. Good landing by the way. That would have really been bad if he ended up with a bum foot.

Danand’s inexperience is catching up to him. All those wasted invisibility spells!

Even before his escape he’s already analyzing the atronach!

Back in? I hope he comes up with a plan for it this time.

Wow that was an exciting chapter!

Take a look at The House of Healing. It is a mod that adds a Healer's Guild to Weye.

Darnand's observation of the emptiness of the lower chambers was not only perceptive of him, but also a good piece of writing on your part. HWStG is indeed not likely to suffer packs of critters around it. At least not living packs. Something Slythe Seringi Slytherin found out.

I shared the same thoughts that Darnand had for Slythe at the end. He went out heroically, after jumping to all the wrong conclusions for all the right (if mad) reasons. But it still took guts, and selflessness, to go down there.

Darnand's reaction was both clever (turn invisible, think of ways to escape without a fight) as well as believable (his muscles feeling rigid).

I always did love the appearance of the storm astronauts atronachs (who ever came up with that atronach name anyway?). You made it seem quite daunting, with the shaking ground, gigantic swirling boulders, and the words "Big Bad" written all over it.

It was nice to see Darnand's invisibility not work. Many writers like to use at as the invulnerable shield it is in the game, and never stop to think that just as the player character can neutralize it, so should other beings as well. The jump spell was a good addition too. Is that a new idea of yours? Or are you thinking of simply a fortify athletics? In any case, it is an excellent spell for an adventurer to have. It would probably be handy in Valenwood, for jumping up into trees, or to go from one tree to another.

The battle between the Daedroth and the Astronaut turned out as I expected it would. But the 'droth did put up a good fight, and bought Darnand the time he needed to get a clear route out. Which is what he really needed. Only it looks like escape is not Darnand's plan after all. Those void salts might come in handy for rubbing on sore feet too, along with some warm water... His musing about the permanency of the atronach was spot on. How did it get there? and stay there? are the million septim questions.

That last picture looks like a Godzilla movie shot through a blue lens!


nits:
Wolves were considerably larger than Bretons.
Did you change the size of Cyrodiil wolves? Grey Wolves are usually only about 80 lbs and 3.5 - 5 feet long. Although a few rare individuals have been found much larger. If you do want them bigger, no complaints here. It would make them more dangerous opponents. If they were 6 feet long and weighed in at 200 lbs, then I could easily believe they would attack people.


A spell to give the atronach weakness to magicka
Not exactly a nit, but an observation. When I first read this I was confused, thinking you meant the atronach birthsign, and that the spell somehow conferred a weakness to magicka that the birthsign also caused. Only after reading it again did I realize you meant the Sunken One. I am not sure how many people might make the same mistake, but you might consider changing atronach to something like 'targets', 'victims', 'enemies', etc...

Wonderfully gripping, Grits! Let me catch my breath.

’His dismissive thoughts about Seringi’s dedication now seemed disrespectful. Here lay a mer who had sacrificed himself to save others, Darnand included. That his death resulted from delusions made it sad, but no less noble. He tugged the blanket free of his belt.’
What a delightful and poignant observation for Darnand to make!

’The far end of the canyon was now blocked by a being comprised of floating boulders revolving around an insubstantial center. It resolved into a bipedal shape and then dissolved into swirling rocks again. Shock energy crackled over its entirety. Each stone was at least the size of Darnand’s torso. A quiet part of his mind observed that the Sunken One was in fact a storm atronach.’
By Mara! What a fantastically vivid description you provide here. In fact, especially when Darnand summoned his helper, you were stunningly effective at bringing both these Daedric titans to life.

’The storm atronach’s progress through the tunnel was alarmingly fast, but comfortingly noisy.’
Another smoothly efficient and evocative passage.

Right at the end, as he heads back down there, I wondered if Darnand had contracted a touch of Jerric’s ‘balls over brains’ thinking. I suppose the prospect of some void salts could tempt even the bookish Darnand to try Jerricish things.

Wow, intense! Talk about finding yourself up cacat creek without a paddle! A Storm Atronach?

Good thing Darnand had that panic spell available, otherwise he would be nothing more than a pile of extra-crispy imp chips by now. I hear electro-fried is the way to go with them, but personally, I'm not interested in eating anything-a-la-Darnand.

Darnand dried his sweaty hands and pushed himself to his feet in the corridor. Many rituals involved purification with a solution of void salts. They were rare and extremely difficult to procure without arousing suspicion. It would also be prudent to put Seringi’s remains to rest.

Uh oh... is Darnand being overcome by The Adventurer's Folly? Risking one's life for the sake of valuables? I hope he doesn't let Abiene hear about this, I am very sure she would be quite less than pleased if she did.

GAAAAH !!! That isn't what I meant !! I was talking about her writing a deeply emotional letter that Darnand might see, which would cause a terrible rift between the two friends !!! (and if that voyeur guy found it, he'd be sure to tell everyone within earshot). URK !!

Oh no, he didn't use chameleon so when he grabbed the stick it dispelled the invisibility !! ARGH !!! Riveting story from the first impact tremor of the Atronach! Like Acadian, I found myself holding my breath and my heart pounding till Darnand was safely out ... how like him to analyze it even as he is catching his breath! But for him to go back in? ARGH !!! Awesome Write !!

You know, I must confess a guilty secret...I always level and power up my characters to an insanely high level before getting into boss fights so that I don't quite get as high an adrenalin rush as you do when youfight bosses at a 'just adequate' level.

What you've done, Grits my girl, is as Gritty as your handle! We can all smell the battle, taste the fear, and see the action as our hero uses every bit of his skills (some not quite legal, heheh) to survive...

A very very big thumbs up!

King Coin: It was fun, I did a little in-game research with a real storm atronach and a summoned daedroth, since the game gives you a leveled one. They went to melee right away almost every time, the storm atronach got off at most one shock spell. The second summoned daedroth usually finished the atronach with its first strike. That cave makes a good spot for daedra battles. You’re right, a bad foot would have been the end for Darnand. The spell helped his landing. He’s getting a lot of Illusion practice in the field. Thank you, KC!

SubRosa: Indeed, unlike our gray wolves, Cyrodiil’s wolves here are bigger than a Breton. They do not behave completely like our North American wolves, either. Thank you for pointing out that confusing sentence, I changed it so that it was clear he was thinking of his target. (And not Jerric ) The jump spell comes from Morrowind, but I don’t know anything about it but the name. I put it vaguely in the school of Alteration, but that’s just a guess. A Fortify spell would have worked, too, maybe Acrobatics? I think that a lot of spells would be combinations of effects from different schools. Feather plus Fortify Acrobatics for Jump, perhaps. That mod looks like something I would enjoy with Abiene. The charges of necromancy and vivisection mentioned in the Introduction sound pretty similar to my own ideas. I’m sure she would enjoy the wardrobe upgrade. I have her in the white monk’s robes. Thank you, SubRosa!

Acadian: Balls over brains, LOL! That’s Jerric to a T. Darnand’s lapses in judgment tend to be brains over sense. I suppose that’s why Abiene was happy that the ballsy but even more sensible Lildereth might join them, though I am only now connecting all of the dots. Of course, Darnand is preeeeetty sure the second daedroth got the storm atronach. Thank you for your encouraging words. Thanks to your advice over this past almost year, I enjoyed writing this difficult part as much as any of the friendly banter.

Thomas Kaira: Yes, there is nothing about his trek back into the cavern that would please Abiene. He might even get shouted at by Jerric, who still has to run away from them. With the Apprentice birthsign, electro-fried Breton is right.

mALX: Oh, you’re so right about Abiene’s letter, anything from the heart would be too incriminating. That invisibility works great when you’re only practicing! Another way Darnand’s plans did not stand up to combat, which as you pointed out he started analyzing before it was even over. My first thought when I realized that Darnand was going back in was, this plan is not mALX-approved!! LOL. Thank you, mALX!

D.Foxy: Thank you, Foxy! I think this was my first battle with no weapons. I would not be surprised in the game if my character whipped around and started cursing me through the screen during some fights. Here’s the result of Darnand’s first game encounter with a troll.


Where we are: Darnand found Slythe Seringi’s remains and met the storm atronach called the Sunken One. We left him heading back down into the cavern to investigate the hopefully dead storm atronach. This episode concludes our Kvatch chapter. There might be a little delay before we move on. The back problem I have been griping about has escalated, fingers crossed for a Superior Convalescence spell at the healer tomorrow.



Chapter 12 part 11

“So as it turned out, the second daedroth had finished the storm atronach.” Darnand needed a moment to catch his breath. Climbing the Kvatch plateau while relating the day’s adventure had left him winded, despite his new devotion to exercise. Lildereth set a challenging pace even loaded with her pack and weapons. Ulfe padded along beside Lildereth, occasionally stopping to investigate a scent then trotting to catch back up. The three of them had not passed anyone else out this late on the Kvatch Road.

The light from Lildereth’s spell made a pool around them, but it left her face in shadow. “What did you do with the body?” she asked.

“I scraped the void salts from the individual stones,” Darnand replied. “I lacked an adequate implement, so I used a conjured dagger. I must admit to some satisfaction, binding a daedric spirit for the purpose of…” Lildereth was giving him a look. “Of course, you meant the flax farmer. I carried the pieces back and buried them at his farm. Some… residue and small bits of him remain in the cavern under a cairn I made from the boulders of his Sunken One. The grave at the farm is shallow but secure. I performed an invocation to Arkay over it.”

“What was the offering?”

Darnand was scandalized. “I do not know. I did not disturb it.”

That earned him another look. “You didn’t…”

“I did not open the sack. I simply left it where he placed it in the cave.”

Lildereth shook her head. “Yet you might have taken his very flesh and bones.”

Darnand snorted. “You refer to my treatment of the undead. Seringi’s remains had not been prepared with the proper rituals. Though some would have harvested his heart and skin for their potions.” He realized what she might be wondering. Now it was Darnand’s turn to glare. “I am not a necromancer.”

The guard at the edge of the plateau nodded them through the checkpoint from under his hood. The wind had picked up since Darnand encountered Lildereth outside the stables. Or rather since Ulfe romped up and nearly put him on his back with her greeting. Their breath made thick clouds for the breeze to carry away.

“It’s going to snow,” Lildereth observed. “If we are unlucky, we will have freezing rain. It was no accident that we met on the road. I was waiting for you. May I share your tent tonight?”

“Of course,” Darnand said, surprised. “I am certain that Jerric will not object. Though it is only fair that I should warn you.”

Lildereth asked the question with her face. He could do without her sharp tongue, but Darnand realized that he had missed some of her quieter ways.

“He is troubled by dreams,” Darnand explained. “He thrashes, shouts, and kicks like a horse. I have learned when to wake him, but a peaceful night will not be found under our canvas.”

“It’s late to make a shelter down in the trees, and I’m tired. I suppose a person cannot help what he does when he is asleep.”

“Occasionally he fondles himself,” Darnand added. “At least I think he is sleeping.”

Lildereth rolled her eyes. “I remember that from the guild hall. Dead drunk and still humping the mattress.”

They found the tent poles decorated with Jerric’s clothing. Gentle snores from inside informed them of his status. Darnand held the tent flap open, and Lildereth ducked under his arm. Darnand tripped over Jerric’s boots as he entered.

They took in the spectacle by the light of Lildereth’s spell. Jerric sprawled sideways across the tent, naked as the day he was born. His head rested on Darnand’s bedroll and one foot was tangled in his own. He had flung a brawny forearm over his face.

“Do you see a blade within his reach?” Darnand murmured. “Sometimes when he awakens...”

Lildereth snorted. “Nords.” She tugged her cloak tighter around herself. “He does not smell as bad as I expected.”

“He keeps his person cleaner than his clothing.” Darnand was pleased that he had thought to wash up at Seringi’s well. Under his soiled robe, he was ready for his bedroll. Some of Jerric’s habits had proven prudent on the road.

Jerric lifted his arm and squinted at them. “Kahve?” he asked hopefully.

“It is still tonight,” said Darnand. “Though much of it has passed.”

Ulfe crowded between them and stepped across Jerric. Her tail lashed their legs as she passed.

“Ulfe!” cried Jerric, then “Oof!” as she dropped onto his belly. Jerric attempted to rise as Ulfe rolled over onto her back. A tangle of furry limbs ensued.

“By the Nine!” cried Darnand. “Put on some trousers or sit on your own blankets! It is unclear to me how a man can own three swords, yet not a single bedrobe.”

“Only Imperials get dressed for sleeping. Anyway I wasn’t asleep. I was just resting my eyes for a moment. I was going to get back up after nightfall. It’s good to see you, Lildereth.” Darnand and Lildereth remained in the doorway until the Nord and the dog situated themselves. Jerric shifted to his own bedroll and pulled a blanket across his lap. Ulfe flopped down with her head on Jerric’s knee. He reached over her for the wine bottle. Lildereth unloaded her burdens while Darnand lit the candle.

“Do you mind if I share your tent tonight?” Lildereth asked Jerric. She sat down cross-legged with her back to the door. “I believe it is going to snow.”

Darnand watched half a dozen thoughts flit over Jerric’s face while he opened the wine. “Sure,” Jerric finally said. “I hope it snows. Might be freezing rain.” He took a swig and passed it to Lildereth. “I thought that wood elves—”

“Lildereth found a Doomstone,” Darnand interrupted before the two of them could get started. He sat down on his blankets and unrolled his map. The three of them bent their heads over it.

“Here,” she said. “And there is another one here, near this smudge. I thought I had seen standing stones there before.”

“Before what?” asked Jerric, yawning. Darnand looked at Lildereth, curious if Jerric’s clumsy fishing would net any new information.

“Before you made me reconsider my sleeping arrangements,” she replied.

“About that…” Jerric let go of Ulfe’s ear and scratched a hand through his hair.

“I have already warned her,” Darnand told him.

“Apologies in advance,” said Jerric.

Lildereth nodded to the back of the tent. “I’ll sleep behind the packs where you can’t kick me. Ulfe likes to stretch out, though. She’ll go outside if she wants to.”

The dog’s tail thumped Darnand’s pillow when they looked at her.

“We will all be warmer,” Darnand said doubtfully. The Nord and the hound made the eight-man tent seem like a double.

“Especially since Carmia put beans in the stew again,” grinned Jerric, cutting his eyes back at Lildereth.

The mer did not return his smile. “Are you planning to go into the city again tonight? Darnand told me you helped with the ghosts.”

Jerric stared down at his hands on Ulfe’s neck, jesting gone from his face. “Yeah.”

He looks even more haggard than he did this morning, Darnand decided. He shared a glance with Lildereth as she passed the bottle. “How many more days do you think you will need to spend with Vigge?” Darnand asked Jerric.

“Not sure.” Jerric ran a hand through his hair again. “A couple of the spells are complicated, and recharging isn’t easy to learn. I’ll have a better idea after tomorrow.”

Lildereth placed her fingertips on Jerric’s knee. Her tone lacked its customary edge. “You will concentrate better with more rest. Stay here tonight. Bring a large stone into the tent, and I will show you how my tribe stayed warm without campfires. Darnand will tell us about his victory at Sandstone Cavern. You can pet the dog and moan that you missed your second dinner. Stay out of the city tonight, Jerric. What you are seeking is not there.”

After a moment Jerric looked up and grinned again. “That snow excuse is a pile of imp chips. You can just admit that you missed me.”

First let me apologize for being remiss in commenting on your wonderful developments of late. RL and school has conspired to steal me away from here. Do not fear, I have been keeping up with Jerric, Darnand and Lildereth! (And Ulfe! How wonderful to see her again!)

I liked how you chose to gloss over the second trip through Sandstone Cave. I'm sure we've all been through it enough. It was the second quest I ever completed (after Go Fish) that didn't have anything to do with the MQ. Yet I can't help wondering if the Sunken One has anything to do with the devastation at Kvatch. OTOH, what about Hackdirt? Both Serengi's disappearance and Hackdirt have that classic Chthullu mythos about them. In any case, that quest gave me such the creeps that I played through it only once or twice since (and I've played with six or seven characters by now).

Oh, and the way Lildereth and Darnand discuss Jerric is too funny! It goes a long way to show the depth of their friendship that they would talk of Jerric so and still look after him in the throes of his PTSD. Yes, I can see that is still an issue, and ghost-hunting may not be enough to purge Jerric of those signs. But we'll see.

That was some troll! Talk about barely squeaking by.

Though some would have harvested his heart and skin for their potions
Ewww!

“I am not a necromancer.”
Not yet at least...

Dead drunk and still humping the mattress.
Well, at least he is not pooping or peeing all over it, because he thinks he is in the bathroom. That seems to be the standard drunken male activity, especially when someone else is sleeping in the bed already.

It is unclear to me how a man can own three swords, yet not a single bedrobe.
Change that to three dogs, and you have a redneck!

“Especially since Carmia put beans in the stew again,” grinned Jerric, cutting his eyes back at Lildereth.
Yikes! I think sleeping out in the snow is looking better and better...

All in all a fun episode that shows the camaraderie that has grown between the Terrible Trio since they first met.



nits:
The guard at the edge of the plateau nodded {to} them through from under his hood.
I think you might have wanted a to or at where I inserted it above.

Very powerful that Lildereth understood the cause of Jerric's downhill spin since they arrived in Kvatch - and that Darnand noticed it as well. Jerric's swing from the brash jokes to the (almost helplessness) glimpse of inner turmoil facing what Kvatch has done to him - another hugely powerful moment. AWESOME WRITE !!!!

First, best wishes for your back and a speedy recovery.

Gosh, we had so much fun snooping over Abiene’s shoulder as she wrote her letters a couple episodes ago. Then we traveled along with Darnand for his academic assessment and evaluation of a freaking monster that shook the ground! And finally, here, you bring all but Abiene into such delightfully close quarters again!

This episode was wonderful. I’m with Rider is thinking it was nice that you sort of just ‘reviewed’ Darnand’s return to the dungeon. That provided more ink to lavish upon the wonderful interplay among your characters. I love the Quintessential Quartet of Darnand, Lilderith, Ulfe and the big fellow. The interaction among the four of them in what must have seemed a tiny tent was priceless and such fun to read! Some very touching stuff near the end.

You know that I identify so strongly with Lildereth and how you portray her. What a fabulous touch for her to allude to magically heating a large stone to help stay warm.

Yipes! Sorry to hear about your back. Best thing you can do now is spend as little time on your feet as you can until you can be seen. And no heavy lifting!

I really enjoyed the back-and-forthing between Darnand, Lildereth, and later Jerric. Always bickering about something, but every time, always entertaining.

Hmm, Standing Stones, eh? Not just doomstones anymore now that Skyrim is just around the corner?

I agree with Lildereth about getting away from Kvatch. It was probably too soon for Jerric to return, considering how he is still deeply haunted by his prior experiences and suffering night terrors. He may have found closure, but I feel he is now farther away from finding peace. Seeing all the suffering within the city walls firsthand again, that's rough. He may act tough, but it is getting more and more difficult for him to hide just how torn up he is inside.

Some time away from it all sounds like a great idea.

GAAAAH !!! I didn't know that was what you meant till I saw Acadian's comment !!! ARGH !!! I hope your back gets better, that is an awful place to hurt !!! URK !!! I'm so sorry you haven't been feeling well !!!

Yay! Lildereth is back with us! She and Darnand are getting into it already! I like how they think differently. Darnand is all about the magical details, and Lildereth is more concerned about the mer.

Jerric’s such a wonderful tentmate.

“That snow excuse is a pile of imp chips. You can just admit that you missed me.”
This screen shot comes to mind

And I can tell Jerric missed her too, he hasn’t been this much of an --- in a while. I'm glad the three of them are together again.

Great chapter Grits! And get well!

I like the contrast between Lildereth and Darnand. I look forward to further chapters feuturing the three of them together once more.



I liked this, it reminded me that this is still in the TES universe. And it was funny.

Excellent...Lovely place to start reading...Very...Descriptive... ...

Look forward to more...

Folks, thank you very much for the well wishes, and for your patience! After the first two weeks of Physical Torture Therapy, I’m… still not able to sit down. But at least I’m walking. I made myself a standing work station at the kitchen counter (i.e. laptop on a pile of dictionaries), so back to the story!

haute ecole rider: The gang is here whenever you can find the time, I’m glad you’re reading. (I miss Julian, no pressure, I’m just sayin.’ ) Hackdirt creeps me out, too. I have some dark ideas brewing for that quest. I’m glad you enjoyed L & D’s frank discussion about their tentmate. Instead of blaming it on the dog, these two (and Ulfe) can blame it on the Nord.

SubRosa: Jerric might not be the ideal roommate. He might end up sleeping out in the snow! Thank you for the nit, I fixed it.

mALX: I’m glad you pointed out that moment where they weren’t fooled by Jerric’s clowning around. You won’t see many gentle words from Lildereth, thank you for drawing attention to her insight.

Acadian: Quintessential Quartet, I love it. Jerric does displace a lot of air in that tent. I was actually thinking of you when I wrote the part about Lildereth’s warming stone, I’m so glad you liked it.

Thomas Kaira: You and Lildereth are absolutely right about Jerric and Kvatch. He doesn’t know how to deal with guilt, and both being there and leaving again are piling it on.

King Coin: You’re so right, Jerric only teases the ones he cares about. Thank you for pointing out the difference in Lildereth’s and Darnand’s outlooks. It makes them fun to write.

TheBrume: That was the first time it was only Darnand and Lildereth, so it was fun to focus on the two of them, if only for a few paragraphs. I’m actually not even sure how long Lildereth will stick around this time, so I’m glad you’re enjoying it.

McBadgere: Welcome to the story, Brock! I’m glad you’re reading. Here’s some more.


Where we are: Darnand got his recommendation from Sigrid Firewalker, head of the Kvatch Mages Guild chapter. Jerric spent some time learning new spells and training with Vigge the Cautious, as well as helping the priests and Kvatch Guard deal with some of Kvatch’s newly undead residents. Now Jerric, Darnand, Lildereth, Ulfe, and the horses have left Kvatch, heading eventually to Skingrad. Their path is not the most direct one.




Chapter 13: Skingrad, Part 1


Jerric lay on the frozen ground watching the sun set over the Colovian foothills. Magnus glowed behind a haze of pink, though the sky was clear above. Two days of snow in Kvatch had been followed by two more of melting rain. Then cold had settled back over the West Weald. Their path took them northeast from Kvatch into the rocky hills below the Colovian Mountains. Fir trees and winter-bare maples grew widely scattered here, but the ground was mostly open meadows of deer-cropped grass with patches of thigh high heather and mountain sedge.

Lildereth had found the standing stones just after mid-day. They took the afternoon to set up camp nearby and survey the surrounding area. Lildereth returned from her scouting mission with two iron swords, a haunch of venison, and no comment. Jerric considered their camp secure.

The cold ground didn’t bother him, but he could feel Darnand shifting uncomfortably at his side. The two of them had found a fairly level spot sheltered from the wind by a boulder. The Doomstones stood slightly downhill from their position. Darnand had decided to pass the time until sunset by filling in some details on his map. Jerric’s back provided the work surface.

“Try not to breathe so much,” Darnand admonished. “I could almost think that we are at sea.”

Jerric saved his comment for later. He turned his head to look at the Doomstones. The largest stone stood within an arrangement of shorter ones much like the Jone Stone that Martin had shown him. These stones also stood in a circle of ominously blackened ground. Four of the stones were roughly cruciform in shape. Rusted chains hung from metal rings set into the rock. “You know, I think those stones with the chains mark compass points,” Jerric remarked. “Look, you can tell by the sun’s angle.”

“Your back rises when you speak.”

“I wonder what they were for. Something unpleasant, I’d wager.”

“Some sacrifices are made willingly. Be still.”

Jerric snorted into the crook of his arm. “I guess some change their minds or they wouldn’t need chains. Why don’t you mark your map back at the camp? We could be sparring right now instead of just sitting here.”

“Ulfe’s curiosity would prove more ruinous than your lack of repose.”

Darnand had a point. The hound seemed to enjoy shoving her head between the Breton and whatever he was attempting to do. Jerric’s camp chores usually involved blades or a hot calcinator, and Lildereth could send Ulfe away with a look when she needed to. The burden of Ulfe’s affection often fell on Darnand.

Jerric heard Darnand rummaging in his shoulder bag. Its weight lifted from Jerric’s legs, and his friend stood up. “I have finished,” said Darnand. He held the map in his hands. “Are you certain you will be able to find our camp in the dark? I did not want to mark it.”

Jerric climbed to his feet. “Yeah. It’ll still be where we left it, even if it’s not on your map.”

A pained look crossed Darnand’s face. “You refer to when Lildereth pointed toward Miscarcand, and I consulted my map.”

“Yeah, I refer to that.”

“I was verifying its accuracy, not doubting her.”

“The next time you verify its accuracy when she’s showing you something, she’s going to stick the map up your backside. I hope that thought comforts you while you’re extracting it.”

Darnand’s face looked as pale as a ghost under the sun’s last rays. “I shall not insult her that way again.” He ran a hand over his eyes. “Gods help me. Do you suppose that is why she declined to join us this evening?”

“No. I don’t think she holds a grudge. Just gets her vengeance over with and moves on. Anyway, didn’t you see her when we passed by these stones? Skittish as a deer, and our camp’s two solid miles away. She doesn’t like strange magic. And by that I mean unfamiliar. Her magic is as strange as any I’ve seen.”

Darnand nodded. “There is much I would learn about Bosmer magic. Lildereth manipulates physical energy as naturally as an Altmer controls the mystic. I tried to speak with her about it, but I am afraid I only made her impatient.”

“You’re not alone in that. At least she hasn’t shot you. Yet.”

“Why do you suppose she remains with us?”

“You mean besides your charm and my wit?” Jerric grinned. Darnand’s face stayed serious. “I think she’s looking for something. Maybe she’ll need help when she finds it. Anyway, I’m glad she’s coming along, whatever her reasons.”

“As am I.”

The two men walked down to the ring of stones. “I’m only guessing that we need to wait until the stars are out,” said Jerric. “That’s what Mar—That’s what, uh, Marcus said about the Jone Stone, and he was right.”

Darnand looked Jerric straight in the eye. “I know that the man’s name is Martin. You talk in your sleep.”

Alarm stopped Jerric’s breath. “What other names have I said?” Darnand looked uncomfortable. Jerric felt like he might vomit. “Out with it, Breton. You can’t keep my own secrets from me.”

“There is little else that I recognize. Your muttering is unintelligible, and it rarely wakes me anymore. You can only be understood when you are the most distressed. You often shout a warning to someone called Martin. And you sometimes call out for… your mother.”

Jerric let out his breath and scratched a hand through his hair. “Probably in the dreams where I’m dying. I’ve heard folk cry for their Ma in every kind of language, right at the end. I guess I’m no different.”

Darnand looked doubtful. “I do not think you are in jeopardy, Jerric. Rather, it sounds as if she might be. I expect that if you do not remember all of those dreams, it is a blessing.” Darnand winced. “A vapid phrase, but no less suitable.”

“So you say it’s not the spicy dreams that make me wake up sweaty.” He might not tell me if I’ve been saying Abiene’s name, Jerric realized.

“If I suspected that you were flailing in the arms of Dibella, you would awaken alone.” Darnand suddenly gripped Jerric’s arm. “The center stone!”

Runes and symbols glowed red in the faint starlight. Jerric stepped carefully up to examine them. The runes meant nothing to him, but some of the markings looked familiar. “It’s a star map, Darnand. This might be one of the Birthsign Stones.” He ran his fingers over the markings. “It’s the Atronach!”

“Are you certain?” Darnand’s voice came from outside the circle. He sounded tense.

“I know the stars that marked my own birth. I’m going to try to invoke the blessing, or whatever. Maybe you can tell what it does.” Jerric sent his will into the stone, announcing his presence rather than demanding. Power stirred under his palms immediately. He felt welcomed, as if the Stone had been waiting for only him. The feeling of being more than he was a moment before drifted over him. He stepped back away from the Stone, slightly dazed.

“Jerric?” Darnand sounded extremely edgy. When Jerric turned, he noticed that it was fully dark.

“Yeah.” Jerric walked over to where Darnand waited. The Breton took a few steps back, and Jerric left the circle of stones. “It gave me something, but I don’t know what.”

“I have read that the Atronach has the power to grant the Arcane Well to deserving mortals, but I could not comprehend the context from the fragment I found. I hypothesized that the author meant the stars themselves might bestow the power. Perhaps the stars act through these stones.”

“I don’t know. Stand back, I’ll try it.” Jerric reached for his new power. After a moment he was still puzzled. “I feel the same.”

“The Arcane Well allows the recipient to absorb some spells into their own magicka. Additionally, it allows a greater reserve of magicka, for a time.”

“Thus the name,” said Jerric.

Darnand blinked at him. “Indeed.”

“It’s a power with properties like the ones the stars marked me with at birth. If it was Sun’s Dusk, I’d think your hypothesis might be correct. But right now it’s Morning Star, and we’re under the Ritual. I believe that if the gift comes from the stars, it must come through some other power, through the Stone.” Darnand was staring. “What?”

“Nothing. Please, continue.”

“I know why I don’t feel any different. You might feel magicka filling your Arcane Well, but I don’t. The Atronach also delivers a curse. My magicka is stunted. If I drank some magicka potion, I’d feel the Well.” Jerric thought for a moment. “How do you suppose it works?”

Darnand’s eyes were round. “It makes you smarter.”

Jerric laughed and thumped him on the shoulder. “Good one. Go ahead, now you try it.”

“I shall decline this opportunity. I had not considered that the Stone might also convey a curse. Of course, you would not notice,” Darnand continued quickly, “but it is a risk I should not take.”

“All right, then. Anyway, how would we know if it made you smarter?” Jerric laughed again. “I’m starving. Let’s go back to camp. By now Lildereth has probably dragged half of the mountain into the tent to keep us warm. I can see well enough to find the way. You keep your light spell in your own eyes.”

Darnand spoke after they had walked for a few moments. “The day after tomorrow is Meridia’s summoning day. I expect we will reach the shrine in time.”

“Uh huh,” Jerric agreed. “I already know that. What’s really on your mind?”

Darnand sounded uncertain. “Well…”

“Yeah?”

Darnand cleared his throat. “While you are still under the influence of the Arcane Well, I have a few theories I would like to discuss with you.”




Screenshot: Jerric at the Atronach Stone

A nice little talk about the Doomstones. I have often wondered about those chains too. Although I never ran toward sacrifices. That doesn't seem very Cyrodiilic. I always imagined that either the stones were chained together, and something hung from them, or that there was a structure of wood around or atop them that the chains somehow connected to.

The hound seemed to enjoy shoving her head between the Breton and whatever he was attempting to do.
An excellent description of dogness!

Her magic is as strange as any I’ve seen.


You can’t keep my own secrets from me.
I think we can argue with that!

So if Jerric is at the Astronaut Stone, shouldn't he get a spacesuit? Or a rocket?

Darnand's fears about entering that circle were a great touch, as was bringing out Lildereth's aversion to it and different magic - huge details !!!



ROFL !!! Very typical Darnand !!! He better hurry, he only has like 120 seconds to pick Jerric's enhanced brain, lol.

I love how they are discovering the powers of these stones !! Tremendous immersion into the different facets of magic in Cyrodiil !! Darnand's gentle way of letting Jerric know about the talking in his sleep - kind of makes you wonder if he heard more than he is telling. Awesome Write !!

It was fun with the two fellows and their four footed girl, talking about the pointy eared one.

You do the banter between them all very well – even when Lildereth is not there, she is. I like that her magic seems different.

Interesting stuff about the stones.

I can see Jerric’s concern about blabbing in his sleep.

So, is Meridia’s shrine on the menu? That could portend some black-robed trouble – that Darnand would no doubt find irresistibly fascinating.

Lildereth deadly as usual and quiet for a change. Maybe that’s just because Jerric and Darnand were too busy to tease.

I like Darnand’s comments. ‘Stop breathing so I can write neatly.’

Lol. Darnand and his map getting intolerable?

Hey I agree with Jerric. Whatever her reasons, I’m happy Lildereth has stayed. I AM very curious about why she’s skittish. Is there something about this area that she knows, or is Jerric correct in his assumption? We will see.

Jerric’s got dreams that rival Aravi’s. I wonder if she’sanything like Jerric is in her sleep?

Darnand’s eyes were round. “It makes you smarter.”
I have to agree!

Theories to discuss? Maybe even test? Can’t wait!

“The next time you verify its accuracy when she’s showing you something, she’s going to stick the map up your backside. I hope that thought comforts you while you’re extracting it.”

Sounds like my kinda gal!

Many interesting musings on Cyrodiil's standing stones here. You succeeded quite well in adding an air of mystery to something so familiar as a Doomstone. I anxiously await what Darnand might make of it.

And Jerric has become an intelligent Nord! An oxymoron if ever there was one. Now he can bash drunkards' heads in while explaining the Periodicals of Mystic Thaumaturgy or Ganton's Second Law of Destitute Construction or something. No one will ever be able to tell if they fell unconscious to the fists, or just fell asleep from the lectures.

Look out world!

I'm finally caught up, and still enjoying the story just as immensely as I was after the first two entries. I can't even quote any specific lines here. The descriptions and dialogues in particular, are masterfully written. Looking forward to more!

SubRosa: The guys probably had Ayleid flesh gardens or daedric cults on their minds when they came up with sacrifices. I doubt that Jeelius was the first mortal to find himself bound on an altar in Cyrodiil. Too bad Abiene wasn’t there. She might have had a different idea for fun with chains.

mALX: I know I could use 120 seconds of enhanced brain every day, LOL. I would have to use them all up deciding which child is pulling one over on me this time. I’m glad you mentioned Lildereth’s and Darnand’s caution with the unfamiliar magic. I think most people would have more concerns than Jerric in that situation.

Acadian: And now we know that Lildereth does not have any repulsive habits, because that’s the first thing the fellas would have talked about! We’ll have to see if the black robes have a picture of Darnand on their recruiting posters.

King Coin: Darnand with his magic map is as insufferable as someone with a new iPhone! If Aravi’s anything like Jerric in her sleep, it’s no wonder that Vilja spends half the night downstairs drinking with the orcs.

Thomas Kaira: Jerric will have to drink a little more ale to even out the effects when he’s been using his Arcane Well. He has a reputation to uphold!

RainbowVeins: Woo hoo, you made it! I’m glad you’re still enjoying the story. Dialog and descriptions are my favorite parts to write. Here’s some more!


Where we are: Jerric, Darnand, Lildereth, Ulfe, and the horses are on their way to Skingrad, eventually. Next stop: the Shrine of Meridia.





Chapter 13: Skingrad, Part 2

Hills rose steep and close together on the northern edge of the West Weald, each one obscuring the view of what lay beyond it. Between the towering boulders and clusters of hundred foot trees, Jerric began to feel a little closed in. The terrain forced a slow pace, so he often dismounted to climb the hills on his own legs. Darnand’s horse seemed irritable. Jerric would also like a good run.

They had been searching for the Shrine of Meridia for most of the morning when they crossed the trail. Many folk on foot and horseback had passed this way recently. Lildereth examined the ground for a few moments before she glanced back at them. “We won’t be alone,” she said.

Jerric could smell the smoke before they saw it. At the top of a rise they found themselves looking down into a hanging valley. Boulders ringed the far side with trees growing thick behind. The ground dropped away below the trees. A tall statue stood in front of the boulders, facing the valley and concealed from behind by the trees. The figure appeared to be a gowned woman, standing with her arms raised and one bare leg forward, Jerric guessed about seventy feet high. He decided that must be the shrine.

White smoke hung thick in the valley over a chaotic encampment. Tents, tethered animals, campfires, and hundreds of people were clustered and scattered without any sense of order. The ground rose near the shrine. No one had set up their camp on that side. This is a holy place for them, Jerric realized.

“They’re burning green wood!” Lildereth fumed. “Who knows how they’re cutting it! Look, that woman is dragging a whole sapling! Mudin-ta! Wasters! Where are the foresters?”

“I don’t think we’re in the Imperial Reserve here,” said Jerric. “I guess this would be County Skingrad’s jurisdiction. Not much between here and the border with County Chorrol, though. Makes it a good spot for folk who don’t want to be bothered by the law.”

“I can smell the privies,” said Darnand.

“Probably a trench latrine,” said Jerric. “Gods, look at all the folk. What do they want to talk to Meridia for? What does Meridia even do?”

Darnand shot him a look. “Getting nervous?”

“Yeah. I just want one more meeting, then I’ll have my fill of gods and princes. I guess I’d rather let you two go talk to this one. I’ll see if I can uncover any crimes against the trees.”

Lildereth turned on him so quickly that her braid whipped over her shoulder. “A being that doesn’t hump and howl and fight has less value, is that what you’re saying? How many generations of round-ears come and go in the natural span of one of those firs? When their lives are cut short to warm up some Imperial’s greasy gray soup, how are you not outraged? What if it was your young feeding these fires?” She stopped herself with a gasp.

Jerric didn’t know what to say. Lildereth stood frozen with tears in her eyes.

“Let us seek out whoever is in charge of this mess,” Darnand said quietly. “Lildereth, will you accompany me to the shrine? Jerric, perhaps you would stay with the horses.”

“Yeah,” said Jerric. “I’ll head over under that ridge. Look for us at the edge of the camp. We’ll want to go uphill for our water. Ulfe, with me.”

Jerric rode slowly around the camp’s perimeter, leading Banner and Flash. Ulfe stayed close, ignoring the lesser dogs that came sniffing past. Most of the tents were simple, open-sided shelters that could be carried on a person’s back. Some folk had come in carts and wagons, and their accommodations looked more comfortable. Jerric saw people of all races, but the only children seemed to be working. Several moved between the nearby tents hawking skewers of cooked meat, some kind of bottled drink, and even bundles of the fresh-cut wood that had incensed Lildereth.

Jerric called down to a Khajiit lad bearing a bulging shoulder sack. “What are you selling?”

“Bone meal, ectoplasm, zombie flesh, anything you need. What’ll it be for you, m’lord?”

Jerric got a bad feeling. “What do I need those things for? Other than a burial.”

The lad’s golden eyes opened wide as only a Khajiit’s could. “Why, for your offering. Our Lady of Infinite Energies is pleased by the destruction of the profane. She won’t listen to your pleas if you don’t have something to prove your worth to her. Ectoplasm from a sanctified wraith is the best. A guaranteed blessing. I’ll make you a good price, sir.”

“Do I look like a sir? Spare me, kid. And you’ll make me a good price, you say. Where did you get real ectoplasm? How do you know it’s from a wraith?”

The lad’s ears flattened back for an instant, then they flicked forward with his toothy smile. “Apologies. I didn’t take you for a mage.”

Jerric snorted. “The way you talk, I didn’t take you for a Khajiit.”

“Gold Coast, just like you, mister.”

“What if I said I was born in Skyrim?” asked Jerric.

“Then so was I,” the Khajiit said, switching to the broad vowels of the north.

Jerric flipped him a coin, laughing. “You’re as much a cultist as I am, I’d wager. What should I know?”

“Keep an eye on your horses,” the lad grinned, tucking the coin away. “The harlots will rob you blind and be gone before morning. All of the dice games are rigged. Don’t eat the rat meat. It was near green when it went on the skewers.”

Jerric could have guessed most of it, but he had been considering the skewers of meat. Avoiding that was worth a Septim. He nodded his farewell and kept moving.

He decided to let Lildereth and Darnand come to find him, rather than taking the animals up to the shrine. They would soon learn that they needed an offering. Jerric thought that the Khajiit lad might actually have bonemeal, but he was certain it was not from an undead skeleton. Given the look of many of the daedra worshippers, he began to doubt if it really mattered. Meridia might appear to them in some form tomorrow, but he couldn’t imagine that she would speak individually to everyone who had gathered at her shrine.

The sun was westering when Lildereth and Darnand found him. Lildereth looked composed. Jerric couldn’t account for most of what was in Darnand’s expression.

“Good, you have not unpacked,” said Darnand.

“We need to go back to Kvatch and get some ectoplasm,” Jerric told them.

Darnand began checking over Banner’s tack. “We need to go, but not to Kvatch. Meridia spoke to me. We have a task to fulfill in Howling Cave, east of Skingrad. When we have completed our assignment, we are to return here to Meridia’s shrine. Her followers will not need to summon her again. She will be watching us.”

Jerric didn’t like the sound of that. “She spoke to you? How did you get her worshippers to summon her without any offering?”

Lildereth gave her crooked smile, her arms around Ulfe’s neck. “This one carries bonemeal and mort flesh around like you carry apples,” she said, nodding at Darnand.

Jerric stared at him. “Zombie meat? In your shoulder bag?”

“It was only a small sample,” Darnand protested. “I am not—”

“A necromancer,” Jerric and Lildereth finished for him.

“We are tasked with destroying the necromancers who inhabit Howling Cave,” Darnand continued, ignoring their mirth. “I propose that we travel until dark, then push for Skingrad at first light. As soon as we receive our assignments from the Mages Guild, we can make our plan.”

Lildereth nodded.

“All right,” said Jerric.

As darkness fell they made camp in a stand of maples protected on two sides by thickets of sweet briar. They set about the tasks that had already become familiar. Before long Jerric sat by the fire working on his blades, one eye on the stew pot. Darnand sat opposite him, settling in to his reading.

Ulfe rolled in the dry grass like a puppy until she had worked her way down to dirt. She finally came to rest on her back, front paws folded on her chest and hind legs splayed wide open. As her head flopped to the side, her tongue lolled out into the dust.

“You should have named her Lady,” Darnand remarked without looking up.

Lildereth sat down at Jerric’s side. After a moment she took his hand. Her little fingers made him feel like a giant.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured.

He knew she meant her angry comment about children in the campfires. “You didn’t mean it that way. But thanks for saying so.” He gave her hands a squeeze before he let go. “I’ll never get away from how my family died. Maybe someday I’ll quit trying to chase them. But anyway, nothing you can say will make it worse, so don’t worry about it. I’d hate for you to stop hissing at me just because it might come out wrong.” He went back to sharpening his knife. “Back in Kvatch, you were right about the ghosts.”

Lildereth looked silently into their fire. Jerric had found enough fallen wood, so he was certain she wouldn’t object to it. He decided this might be a good time to get some answers.

“Why are you alone, Lildereth? I know what you said about the Imperial folks who gave you a home. I mean your tribe. Where are your people?”

“Gone.”

Jerric kept his eyes on his work, hoping she would continue. After a long while, she did. “That is a story for another time, Jerric.”

Dammit, he thought. He tried another angle. “You’ll gather brush for camp. Why were you so upset about those daedra worshippers cutting wood?”

“It was the waste of it. The sheer arrogance, and the carelessness. They could have taken limbs, if they really needed them. Instead they just… I know we’re not in Valenwood, and I’m used to your ways. That woman with the young tree just bothered me.”

Jerric glanced over to check her temper. “Your bow is wood,” he ventured. “Is it from Cyrodiil?”

Lildereth actually smiled at him. “All right, since you’re curious. My bow is from home, given to me by a silverbark tree, and grown by a tree-shaper from its living branch. They made it for me before I even had the strength to string it, to serve all of my life. For when it fails, there’s a good chance I will follow.”

“Yeah, you work in close. That little flare of yours isn’t much of a backup plan.”

“My skeleton can cover my retreat,” Lildereth pointed out. “Though I have not needed her for some time.”

“I guess Ulfe doesn’t help you much when you’re hunting.”

“No, she does not. She’s trained to hunt with someone on horseback. She runs her prey down, while I stalk mine. I have taught her to hinder me less, however. Unless she sees deer. She cannot help but chase them.”

“These hills are full of deer.”

Lildereth sighed. “Yes.”

Jerric looked out into the dark. The fire ruined his night vision, and he couldn’t find an example for his question. “So that big meadow we crossed this afternoon.”

“You crossed,” Lildereth corrected him. “I went around it.”

Jerric mentally rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but you know the one I mean. How would you shoot a target across a meadow like that?”

“I wouldn’t. I’d find cover where I think they’ll pass. Wait for them to reach me.”

“What if they go a different way?”

Lildereth shrugged with one shoulder. “Follow. Try again. There’s always tomorrow.”

Jerric felt a chill that had nothing to do with the season. “Or you could just find another deer, I guess.”

She gave him a cool smile. “Are we still talking about deer?”

Jerric shuddered. “You’ve got my skin crawling every place I’ve ever been shot. I hope I don’t skitt myself for each time I’ve been poisoned. Good gods, woman. How did we get started on this subject?”

“You,” Lildereth told him. “You were wondering how far you’d have to run the next time you provoke me.”

They both had a chuckle over that. “Well, I was wondering about your long-range shooting,” Jerric admitted. “That’s a pretty short bow.”

“Grown with magic and made by a tree, not glued together in a workshop. That’s also why it hasn’t worn out or broken. Can you judge a blade by its sheath? Don’t let the appearance fool you. What looks like a child’s toy in your hands…”

“Yeah,” said Jerric. “I judge it by your shooting.”

“You’re thinking of a shot as making the target. I think of it as making the kill. For me, that means short range.” Lildereth watched the fire for a moment. “You’ve seen Merandil shoot. In Kvatch.”

“Yeah. His bow is nearly as long as me. How would you compare to him?”

Lildereth sighed wistfully. “He’s beautiful.”

Jerric bit the inside of his cheek. That wasn’t really his question, but he wouldn’t trade her answer for anything. He continued when he could control his grin. “Now tell me about arrows. Why do you keep taking them out and looking at all of them? Aren’t they the same ones that you put in there?”

Lildereth shook her head. “First impart to me the mystery of steel in seven words or less.”

Jerric snorted. “I just know how to use it.” He guessed she still felt sorry enough for one more question. “I’ve seen you eat rice and bread, but you always pick the lettuce off your sandwiches. Is it because lettuce is green? In Valenwood did you only eat meat?”

Lildereth gave him a level look, and Jerric stilled his hands while she spoke. “There is much about our ways that you would not understand, and I will not try to explain. But this part is simple. For every great tree that falls, only one can grow to replace it. Yet throughout its long life it will bear fruit and seeds that rival the stars in their number. My people accept what is freely given. We eat fruits, nuts, and grains. Even vines that die back and then sprout anew from the ground are woven into our shelters. But no plant of Valenwood is harmed by those who honor Y'ffre’s pact with our people.”

Jerric eyed her uneasily. “What about—”

“My grandmother’s corpse roasting on a spit at her funeral? Little elves gobbling up fallen armies? The entire province would be straining to move their bowels, not frolicking in the trees. We do make our loved ones and our strongest foes a part of ourselves when they die. But it’s not like you’ve heard. I think that’s enough for now.”

Jerric felt more relieved than he could have imagined. “What are your plans when we get to Skingrad?”

“I have business there. I’ll help you with Howling Cave, like I told Darnand. Other than that, I’m uncertain.”

“So, you could just leave us at any time.”

Lildereth gave him another green look. “What will you do if we see a Gate to Oblivion? I thought as much. So, you could just leave us at any time.”

“Fair enough,” said Jerric. He looked across the fire at Darnand. The Breton sat cross-legged and bent over the book in his lap, elbows braced on his knees. “Darnand, I think the soup’s ready.”

Darnand did not reply.

“Darnand,” said Jerric.

Nothing. Jerric and Lildereth exchanged a look.

“Ulfe,” said Lildereth, nodding across the fire. “Go give him a kiss.”

The hound hauled herself to her feet and ambled over to the Breton. Darnand didn’t move until she stuck her nose under his chin. Then he barely managed to keep his book, his feet, and their meal out of the fire. Lildereth and Jerric were no help at all.

“Yes?” Darnand demanded after he apologized to the dog. His glare was almost worthy of Lildereth.

“Soup’s ready,” said Jerric, wiping his eyes. “Didn’t want you to miss it.”

Our first Daedric Shrine. I have been wrestling with how to portray them in the TF, if I do at all. I will probably do something similar to what you have, at least in scale. Although it might not be as icky. Too bad no one at the shrine knows anything about camp management... But that is what you get when you have a lot of pie in the sky hippies, rather than good old-fashioned pragmatists.

The kids selling dead undead parts was a good touch too. I was just thinking that with all those pilgrims, there ought to be some of those who worships the holy gold piece looking to make some cash off the flock. I am half surprised no one was selling pieces of Meridia's skirt (guaranteed genuine!) or Elvis sweat, etc...

Lildreth's outrage over the felling of the saplings was a nice bit of world-building of Bosmer in general in the JF. That is another one of those things I have to wrestle with in the TF. Given that wood is all-pervasive material, used for everything from making buildings, furniture, weapons, boats, bowls, utensils, and of course firewood, there is no place you cannot escape seeing it used. I see you are going with a similar conservationist attitude. I thought it was a very unique and brilliant idea for Lildreth's bow to be made for her in the way you described.

Jerric stared at him. “Zombie meat? In your shoulder bag?”
Sure he's not a necromancer. That is just for a light snack at mid-morning...

“First impart to me the mystery of steel in seven words or less.”
Crom! Sorry, I had a Conan flashback there. The real Conan, with Ahnold of course.

Once again you have regaled us with lovely tales of the Terrific Trio (and Ulfe!). I have enjoyed reading this story though I've been remiss in commenting. No need to repeat what others have said, right?

I thoroughly enjoyed Lildereth's description (though incomplete) of the Green Pact. It makes more sense now, and sounds like a better balanced diet than an all-meat one. Especially for tree-dwellers. Of course, it makes sense that they would want to keep their trees whole, but have no problems with wood from fallen limbs and the sort. Nice job improving on Beth's Lore!

SubRosa already mentioned my thoughts about the Daedric Shrine. It makes sense, like the Virgin of Lourdes, to make these places sites of pilgrimage. Though someone needs to come in there and organize it like a KOA campground and make a big moolah of cash off of the TES version of the counterculture.

And your character development just leaves me drooling with envy.

I love the description of the area they are in. Jerric might dislike it, but it sounds like my kind of place.
Ooh. Yuck. The shrine sounds like a beautiful spot ruined with people! I was expecting anger from Lildereth, but her outburst was unexpected. Is she that close to nature? Or is there something else worrying her and this scene pushed her over the edge of control?

Ah, a light moment with one of the little entrepreneur. That little Khajiit is a heck of a businessman already!

Jerric… stop eating rat meat! Ugh!
Darnand… you are NOT helping your ‘not an necromancer’ argument here.

I’d hate for you to stop hissing at me just because it might come out wrong.
Aww, he really cares for her!

I was so happy to learn a little about the mysterious wood elf.
The ending was perfect.

Lildereth stole the show here (again) for me. In just about every way. Very nicely done!

How clever to be selling the. . . items needed for tribute to Meridia. For me that, combined with the Khajiit lad really brought this rag taggle camp at the feet of Meridia to life.

I am not a crook necromancer! Gotta love Darnand. And I believe him now.

’She finally came to rest on her back, front paws folded on her chest and hind legs splayed wide open. As her head flopped to the side, her tongue lolled out into the dust.’
A particularly ladylike pose indeed!

As ever, your banter among the characters was absolutely enchanting.

This whole section was priceless !!

I like the slow friendship developing between Lildereth and Jerric - especially because they are so totally different from each other. Seeing as Jerric and Darnand are just as different, but their friendship is such a deep and trusting one - I think it bodes well for the same with Lildereth down the road.

Your world-building on Elf culture is fantastic !! Awesome Write !!