Well, I never expected to have to start a second thread. So the lock on thread one kind of crept up on me. Rather like cheap... best not to go there.

Anyway, thread one is http://www.gamesas.com/bgsforums/index.php?showtopic=836191

For those interested in ancient history, you can read the adventures of Athlain's father, Trey of High Rock,

http://www.waiting4oblivion.com/fan_fiction.html

And

http://chorrol.com/forums/index.php?showforum=53

Warning: Those are complete novels- around 300 and 200 pages, respectively.

@burntsierra- Of course, you, having been with me since the beginning of this writing adventure, manage to see to the heart of the matter. I have known the moment of separation was coming, known it is necessary to move the plot forward- but I resisted, because- in the end, I am a romantic. But it is not yet time for them to ride off into the sunset. (On matched riding guar? Eeep. Now I gotta get THAT image out of my head.)
Your continued support through all your troubles and changes? well, I appreciate more than I can say.

@RemkoNL- Yes. I had to break the tension somehow. And it has been my experience that women tend to be more practical?. Thank you so much for reading- and for writing.

@Acadian- You still are a true and reliable guide to tell me if I am "getting it right." If you are still feeling the immersion, I know I have captured the feeling I wanted to get onto the page. Indeed, "nor"- bad proofreading on my part.

@SubRosa- At rest, yes. And (as Teresa does) finding it a rather uncomfortable fit, somehow. The "stop and ask for directions" line was an afterthought- literally added just before I posted- I did hope it would give the ladies who read my story a chuckle. The other line you cite, Athynae being the flame that will always guide him home- that was one of those "pictures in my head," that I immediately knew had to be written.
I debated personifying "time"- but I agree it is rather jarring to capitalize there.

@D. Foxy- As ever, my thanks and admiration for your ability to distill the "heart" of the matter into verse.


Now, let's get on with the story.

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

During the long trek from Thirsk to Fort Frostmoth, I discovered two things: love can lead one to compose incredibly bad verse- and the depth of one's love is no guarantee of inspired composition. I clearly recall seeking suitable rhymes for "Athynae," but most of the rest is mercifully forgotten. It is a fortunate fact that walking in the wind and snow is not conducive to writing, so none of my "poetry" from that day survives. And the world is therefore a better place.

I felt as if I was trapped between two fires- or perhaps "fears" is a better word. Athynae had not given a very detailed description of the fort, only warned me that the damage was "extensive." And so I feared what I would find when I arrived. The other fear, the one I was leaving behind me, was concern for Athynae herself. I simply could not conceive of any circumstance that would cause her so much agitation- and that she would not discuss with me. As for the homicidal wildlife of Solstheim, I did my best to avoid encounters with them, moving like a ghost through the snow and silence. I also avoided contact with people- my nearly fatal mistake with the reavers had seared an abiding caution into my soul. And too, I felt a desire for solitude, for time to think about what I might do if ever I discharged all of my obligations. Could there then be a future with Athynae? Would she wait for me? The wind had no answers and neither did I.

The smugglers' cave was much as I had left it- except that the bodies and the stolen goods had been removed. Oddly, my uniform- and the letters I had left with it- still lay in an orderly pile, apparently undisturbed by whoever had scoured the cavern. In fact, the letters were still sealed, a fact which was both a puzzle and a relief. I quickly consigned them to the flames, wishing I could so easily erase the circumstances that had prompted me to write them. And then I took up my Legion armor again. Donning the uniform engendered a feeling it never had before; I could not help but recall Brynjolfr's remark about "steel corsets," for at that moment, my armor felt less like a symbol of achievement and more like a prison. But I would never again take it off, until I could do so with my honor intact.

Duty is heavier than a mountain, death lighter than a feather.

I shifted my shoulders in an almost reflexive shrug to settle the cuirass, placed the helmet on my head, and marched out of the cave into the failing light of the afternoon.

My first sight of Fort Frostmoth in many weeks was a shock- Athynae had only said there had been an attack. What I saw was that the east curtain wall had been breached in at least two places, with great piles of rubble spilling onto the ground. I entered the main gate and beheld another disturbing sight: the garrison stood about in ones and twos, but no one seemed to be following the orderly routine of a functioning outpost. Instead, men and women gripped their weapons and looked about fearfully, or huddled around the parade ground fires. It reminded me painfully of my initial arrival, when discipline had been almost non-existent. As I considered what I should do, a mass of troopers clustered around me, calling my name and asking for guidance. Attracted by the commotion, Champion Severia Gratius shouldered her way through the crowd and grasped my arms, looking long and hard at my face.

"Athlain! I had feared you were gone, never to return. So, tell me- what news? Did you carry out my orders?"

Her eyes had an almost fevered look, and I quickly opened my pack to remove a slightly battered object from within. She reached for it, practically crowing with delight:

"A white Colovian helm! Then the deed is done! The moon sugar poisoner has been brought to justice. You have done a great service to me, the Legion, and the Empire itself. I know that for a soldier such as you, duty is its own reward, but there was a bounty, so take this gold."

She handed me a heavy pouch and then drew her sword. Reversing it, she presented the hilt to me.

"And I would also like you to have another reward, a symbol of my personal thanks. This shortsword has served me well and you will find its enchantment will rally others to your cause at need. Please accept it with my gratitude."

I mutely accepted the sword and the coins, unable to formulate a suitable response. I had no idea of where to begin- should I tell her that Uncle Sweetshare still lived? Explain that a sword, no matter how magical, was of no use to me? Or ask why in the name of all Oblivion, she, a Champion of the Legion, had done nothing to reorganize the fort following the attack? As I struggled with my mixture of guilt and anger, she was already turning away, talking to herself:

"Thank Talos that job is done! If I hurry, I can be packed and ready to take the next ship for Cyrodiil and leave this gods-forsaken rock to the savages. The brass is going to owe me- and I intend to collect."

Almost shaking with disgust, I sought a familiar face among the scattered soldiers. At last, I spotted Saenus, leaning wearily against the wall outside the ordinary quarters. As I approached, I could see that the youthful trooper I had left behind had been replaced by a man who looked haggard and much older. His eyes were shadowed and his expression was downcast. When he saw me, some of the weight seemed to lift from his shoulders and he straightened up and essayed a salute. I shook my head at him and embraced him roughly. Then I released him and said:

"None of that, now. We've been to the wars together, Saenus. What happened here?"

He stared at the tumbled walls and plucked at his lip before replying:

"I don't know much- no one does. You sent me back and I reported to the Captain; he sent a detail to retrieve the contraband from Gandrung?. After that, things went along pretty regular for several weeks- I was a little worried about you, but the Captain said you were on a special assignment. I knew what that meant- 'Don't ask any questions.'"

He looked at me from the corner of his eye before resuming the story:

"Then, a couple of nights ago, we were hit. They came out of nowhere. Horrible creatures, covered in fur, with red eyes and claws like adamantium. The Captain was trying to rally a defense and? things were pretty confused. The creatures disappeared into the dark, and the Captain was nowhere to be found. I'm afraid they took him- or something worse."

He swallowed hard, visibly struggling to maintain his composure.

"Listen, Athlain. You've got to go see Gaea Artoria. She's really taking the Captain's disappearance hard- well, we all are- but it has made her a little? unstable. Her answer to most anything has always been to hit it until it stops being a problem. And now she wants to go fight the Nords in the village up north. Talk to her. She knows the Captain trusted you, and she'll listen to what you have to say. She's up on the second floor of the quarters, 'planning a strategy.' Which basically means she's trying to talk as many troopers as possible into going to bash some Nords."

That matched what Athynae had told me, so I made haste to find Gaea Artoria. We were of the same rank, but she had been at Frostmoth longer than I, so this would take careful handling. I found the Legion Agent in the common room of the quarters, looking at a map of the island. A handful of other troopers occupied the room, their expressions a mixture of fear and determination. I made a point of announcing my presence, calling soldiers by name and clapping them on the back or shoulder as I walked past. When I reached the table, I removed my helmet and tucked it under my left elbow, then stood at attention. Gaea growled,

"Oh, cut out the nonsense and siddown."

As I drew out a chair, she added,

"It's good to see you. Talos knows we need somebody in this outfit with some brains."

That got a general laugh and the tension in the room lightened for a moment. Still, I decided it would best serve me to act ignorant for the time being. Glancing around the room, I asked:

"So what's the story?"

Gaea looked broodingly at the map, then spat some hackle-lo juice into a cup.

"There was an attack...some kind of wolf creatures. I don't know exactly how it all happened. We were outmanned, but the soldiers fought valiantly, especially the Cap'n. When it was over, he was gone. I didn't see him go down, so I assume he was alive- at least when they took him. My guess is that those savages from the Nord village have something to do with this."

She gave me a look that was at once pleading and defiant.

"You need to find him, Athlain."

As long as she was talking, she wasn't doing something irrevocable, like attacking the Skaal. And I needed information, besides. Therefore, I probed:

"Who or what do you think attacked the fort?"

"My guess would have been werewolves. I've seen 'em before. But this was different. I've never known the things to travel in such large numbers, and there were a lot of them in the group that hit us. I've also never heard of werewolves on this island. Who knows?"

She shrugged and added:

"I've heard rumors that the Nords up north can control the beasts, though. Some say they can even turn into them. Whatever they were, I don't want to see them again."

Now we had reached the most delicate part of the discussion- I had to somehow divert her fury, or at least channel it in a more constructive direction.

"So tell me about these Nords. What are they like- and why do you think they might be behind the attack?"

She spat again and stabbed a finger at a point on the map:

"They're a bunch of savages that live on the northeast tip of the island. The Skaal, they call themselves. Their village is here. A bunch of animal spirit-worshipping freaks...wolves especially. What does that tell you? Even if they didn't attack us themselves, I bet they know who did. And I'm sure they know what happened to the Captain."

I nodded, as if what she was saying was perfectly logical. I rubbed my chin, feigning deep thought. At last, I placed both hands on the table and spoke decisively:

"I think you're right. But if we show up in force, it'll mean a fight, and that will mean paperwork- reports, official inquiries- that kind of thing. And if the Nords are dead, they can't tell us who took Captain Carius. What we need is somebody to? investigate."

Then I sat quietly. She had to think it was her idea. At last Gaea blew out a breath.

"You did some 'investigating' for that stuck-up Champion from the mainland, didn't you? And you got that missionary girl back safe and sound, right? So I think you're the perfect man for this job."

She snapped her fingers at one of the troopers and said,

"Nalia, go get that skull from your footlocker and bring it here."

While we waited, she said,

"The Nords aren't likely to trust you, so take this skull. Nalia? picked it up? from a Nord barrow. They'll be happy to get it back, since they worship their dead relatives. You should stay with them until you find out what's happened. Get in good with them, earn their trust. And then?"

She drove a dagger into the village marked on the map and left it quivering in the wooden table.

Two things, dear friend Trey. No, wait, you are Trey, of the three stories ... and Trey of the mystic three (a mystic Nord number by the way!) So I'll make it three.

FIRST, I have now bookmarked this new thread.

SECOND, you have flung down, though you knew it not, a challenge to my poetic soul. I shall now go off to compose a poem. And yes, it will have words that rhyme with Athynae. It is all your own fault!!!

THIRD, how I love your plotting, your prose, and your...

She drove a dagger into the village marked on the map and left it quivering in the wooden table.

...cliffhanging dramatic endings!!!


Now off to compose rhymes...

Woo Hoo! You knocked me over with this episode, I see all H breaking loose ahead! What an Awesome surprise Treydog!!! Thank you for continuing, and congrats on #2 !!

Hints for your poem:

"Come what may... Athynae"
"What can I say... Athynae"
"How I wish you'd stay...Athynae"

is much better than:

"Your laugh sounds like a bray...Athynae"

So it is werewolves? Were-somethings? I suspected that Nordic fireside tale was meant to be a bit of foreshadowing. Now I see it was, and now Athlain knows he needs silver and wolfsbane to fight them. That was an artful way of arranging for him to learn that, rather than the usual info-dump.

This line really pulled at me:


That says quite a bit. :thumbsup:


So what is a Champion of the Legion? Some sort of officer I imagine? I do not have Morrowind, so I have no clue.
Nevermind, I just looked it up in the wiki, it is rank #4, some kind of junior officer.


Now a nit, because otherwise Acadian will catch it.


That should be "considered" there.



That depends on how Athynae is pronounced. I thought it ended with an "eye" sound, rather than a Fonzie-like "aaay". Like Ath-een-eye. The more recent (last thousand years or so) Latin pronunciation is "aaay", but the ancient Latin and Greek was "eye".

M.A.L.X. you M.I.N.X!!!!

ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME???

I read you post with coffee and croissant in my mouth...

Revenge I will have! I shall find out where you live and send you the dry cleaning bill!!!

:rofl: :rofl: :rofl:

@D. Foxy and ESPECIALLY mALX1- You have forced my hand. The following will give you an idea:

If I take your hand,
Your knee may?

Bring me Erich's head
On a tea tray?.

Swim with me, in the sea
And watch out for the moray...

An awful way to repay (oh wait, there's another rhyme!) your continued reading and many kind comments- sorry.

@SubRosa- of the archer's eye. Fixed and thank you. Let's see- Legion ranks MW style:

Recruit
Spearman
Trooper
Agent
Champion
Knight Errant
Knight Bachelor
Knight Protector
Knight of the Imperial Garland
Knight of the Imperial Dragon (of which there can be only one in a district)

I "created" the rank of Senior Trooper for Carbo (Athlain's trainer), who says "Agent is a stupid rank for a soldier."

And, as can be seen from the above bad rhymes, it is "Nay."

Oh- and as to the duty quote, it is a Japanese proverb which I have always found compelling. It seemed to fit Athlain's current circumstance- I set it off from the rest of the text because it is not really his exact thought, but captures his state of mind.

My sniffer tells me there is much going on here and much more to come. Werewolves... Athynae...


Athlain needs some answers - it looks like we know where he might find some. At least where he's going next.

:read: I was right there with Athlain again, experiencing what he described. Uh oh, I hope none of that hackle-lo juice got on my keyboard.

As always, a definitive 'how to' for me regarding descriptions and dialogue.

I am so pleased you have begun a second thread, for you have wonderful story and style!

I was just going by the Gaelic pronounciation - do I get a fishy stick?



Ok, here is some more help Foxy:

My heart will never stray...Athynae
If you ever go away...Athynae
I live for you each day...Athynae

NOT:

You're making my nerves fray...Athynae
Every dog must have his day...Athynae
Your hair is turning gray...Athynae
(* XXXXXXX - edited for content *)...Athynae

Loved it! Things are certainly hotting up now. After the heartwrenching parting in the previous chapter, we need a bit of juicy mystery to bring our spirits back up. Honestly, I really felt moved by the separation of our favourite twosome. You really have a gift for getting people to fall in love with your characters; I could feel every bit of that parting.

Congratulations on Thread II Trey!

My thanks again, everyone. Sorry for the long delay- life, work, all that dull stuff.

@Acadian- Yes, he will find answers- but also more questions... as will be seen.

@Rumpleteasza- It pleases me beyond words that you find Athlain and Athynae so compelling- especially considering your own ability to write such wonderful, living, breathing characters.

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

I passed an uneasy night in the armory, cleaning and repairing my gear. The attack had put everyone on edge, and there were a fair number of "volunteer sentries" manning the walls. Others stayed close to the few troopers who happened to have obtained silver weapons, and more than one, knowing of my abilities with potions, asked me if I had any monkshood. Unfortunately, I did not- the plant was common on the mainland, but unknown on Vvardenfell, and I had not found any on Solstheim, either. I did use the privileges of my rank to requisition a silver dagger from the armory, recalling Einar's story of werewolves. It bothered me to take advantage of my status, but not enough to stop me from doing so. The silvered blade might save me in a fight, and a darker impulse forced me to admit that I might have a different use for it if I fell to a lycanthropic foe.

With morning came a desire to be on the move again, to visit the Skaal village and learn what I could. But before I could leave, Saenus sought me out and asked me to walk with him. He said nothing until we were in a deserted corner, where he looked me over carefully. At last he smiled and said,

"It's good to have you back. She said she would find you, but I wasn't sure."

I did not have to ask who "she" was- Athynae generally made a strong impression on people.

Saenus continued, "So? you haven't been to see Carnius Magius, yet? No unfinished business with him?"

I shot a suspicious glance at the trooper, wondering at the intent of his probing questions.

Carefully, I responded: "No, I have not seen him since I got back. Is there a reason for your interest?"

The normally voluble soldier was quiet for so long that I began to think he was not going to answer. At last, he shook himself and looked at me with pleading eyes.

"Sir... I mean, Athlain? we're friends, right? We cleaned out the smugglers, and you treated me more than fair. I- it's like this- I haven't always kept the best company or made the smartest choices. Everybody knows I would rather just 'go along to get along.' Or they used to know that. But you showed me that there was a different way, that 'honor' is more than just a word."

He turned to face me squarely,

"And that girl of yours- she's something special. She showed up here- and I don't have to tell you, this is a rough bunch. But nobody offered her anything but kind words and respect- and it wasn't because they were afraid of her- or not just that."

He smiled at the memory and continued,

"She strode in here and said, 'I'm looking for one of your officers- his name is Athlain. I'm afraid he's in trouble, and I'm going to help him.' And the thing is, no one laughed. The way she said it, we believed her. And I knew you had been doing some work for Carnius- and I also know a little bit more about him than some of the others do."

He took a deep breath. "The reason Athynae showed up- one of the reasons, anyway- is that I sent her a note. You had told me a lot about her, and when I figured out that Carnius probably got you hooked on skooma? well, I decided someone needed to know- someone who wasn't official. And so I figured I owed it to you- and to her- to make sure you were squared away."

He said nothing else, just turned and walked across the parade ground- tall, straight, and proud- the very model of a good soldier.

In truth, I had not really spared a thought for Carnius Magius until Saenus mentioned the name. My mind had been occupied with finding a way to prevent a needless fight between the Legion and the Skaal, with the attack on the fort? and with getting back to Athynae as soon as I could. I looked toward the wing where the East Empire factor had his office, and my hands clenched into fists. But then, with an effort, I opened them and turned away.

"Later," I thought. "There will be time to deal with you later."

For now, I had another long walk ahead of me. It need not have been so- if I had thought to ask 'Thyna for the Mark and Recall amulets, I could have magically transported myself back to Thirsk and then made the short trip to the village further north. But I had not done so, and I rather liked knowing she had them- they were a mystical connection between us. They had come from Father to me and from me to her.

So, even though I had much to think about, I was in a pleasant mood as I left the fort. The day was cold and clear, and I decided to make my way east, to the coast, before turning north. That route would give me a chance to explore part of the island that I had not yet seen- and perhaps find some evidence of Louis Beauchamp's missing airship. The Breton inventor had sent a rather terse note to Frostmoth, reminding me of our bargain, and I owed it to him to respond- even if what I had to report was negative.

Although my Legion armor made it difficult, I still did my best to avoid the bears and wolves that seemed to cover every square foot of the island. I thought about my natural history lessons, and came to the tentative conclusion that there was something decidedly unnatural about the number of predators on Solstheim. There were no large herds of grazing animals to support them- the only prey species were bristlebacks and horkers, plus some fish. And then I considered my own experiences and added another item to the carnivores' diet plan- people. But that was still an effect, rather than a cause. The wolves and bears attacked people because there were too many wolves and bears and not enough of their natural food supplies. So- why were there too many predators? I did not know.

In the midst of my contemplation of what was wrong on Solstheim, I came across a sight that was even more bizarre than an over-abundance of creatures that wanted to eat me. Some fifteen feet atop a rock spire was the body of an Argonian. My curiosity, as well as my Legion training, pushed me to investigate more closely. The sides of the rock were sheer, and offered no way to climb up, so I swallowed a levitation potion and floated gently upward until I could examine the corpse. The dead Argonian was quite frozen, and the ice and snow indicated that he had been there for some time. He was not a mage, and had no potion vials or magical scrolls- so how had he managed to get on top of the rock? And what had killed him? Beyond the fatal injuries he had suffered upon striking the rock, his body bore no marks of violence. There were no signs of a freak wave that might have washed him up there, either. Finally, I simply sketched his markings in my notebook on the chance that they might allow me to identify him and then continued on my way. It seemed that the more I learned, the less I knew.

Although I did not want to delay too long, I turned inland at the point opposite where I estimated Thirsk must lie. I reached the mead hall and shook the snow from my boots before stepping inside. I removed my helmet so the Nords could see my face and glanced around for Athynae. She was not in sight, so I climbed the stairs two at a time, waving a cheerful greeting to Svenja as I went. The door to Athynae's room swung open at my knock, but she was not there and neither was her pack. In fact, the room was empty, save for a folded piece of notepaper propped against the pillow.

For long moments, I did not move. I held on to the slender hope that if I did nothing, perhaps this would not be real. If I did not touch the note, the words it contained would remain unread, would remain an unrealized potential. If I stood there long enough, she would appear behind me, ready with a joke about my blocking the doorway. But the silent minutes passed and no footsteps sounded. The rays of the sun came through the window and crept across the floor, picking out motes of dust that danced in the air. At last, I moved my feet, one and then the other, crossing the short distance to the bed. I reached out a shaking hand to grasp the note and raised it as carefully as I would one of the butterflies that lived in Mother's garden. Even so, my trembling caused two amulets to fall from the folds of paper, jewels glinting as they tumbled to the floor. I ignored them, unfolding the note to read the words I did not want to see. As I did, a hint of Athynae's scent wafted upward and I almost turned to look for her. But my eyes remained fixed to the paper, scanning the lines of the note, and I knew. She was gone.


Here Ends Chapter 9

A good post, tying up some loose ends and moving us forward. Straight to a cliff with Athynae and Athlain's future hanging over it. You really love these cliffhanger endings do you not?

I like how you capitalize "Father", it looms like a vast shadow over Athlain, which he struggles so hard to emerge from and say "I am my own person!"

I also liked this line, I detect the scent of foreshadowing in it:
So- why were there too many predators?
Do I sense a certain Daedric Prince somewhere behind the curtain?


I was a little confused by this line:
Unfortunately, I did not- the plant was common on the mainland, but unknown on Vvardenfell.
I thought Fort Frostmoth was in Solstheim, not Vvardenfell?

:read: A wonderful update! More mysteries.

I enjoyed Athlain's dialogue with Saenus. Particularly, getting his perspective on Athynae.



I love the merging of the familiar and reasonable with the stark reality of the differences of Tamriel. To note the 'markings' of an Argonian for identifying him, makes perfect sense and is just such a treasure of immersion.


You truly did some magic at the end of this story. As soon as I realized Athlain had found a piece of folded notepaper propped against Athynae's pillow, I wanted the world to slow down. I wanted the last paragraph to last an hour. So did Athlain. Master treydog understood this, and accommodated with an abrupt and magical change of pacing for the last paragraph that slowed time to a delicious crawl, overflowing with anticipation. A speck of dust that takes forever to float across the room. Alas, even that had to end, albeit all too soon. Your last paragraph was indeed incredible.

I shall study your last paragraph to try and divine your magic. :spotted owl:

I shall also put you on notice that you are bordering on cruelty to make us now wait to find out what happens next! :nono:

Hwut my friend above said!!!

NEXT POST PLEASE!!!!

I adore the last paragraph. So much emotions so clearly displayed. Poor Athlain..

Somehow I knew she would not be there - but still, ARGH!! - Great write Treydog, now both you and SubRosa have left me with a headache till the next chapter !!! I have to agree with the other posters on your details, when you know bad news is coming, you do tend to notice every minute detail as if logging it for future reference, noticing the particles of dust was perfect, the description vivid. Awesome write - but still, ARGH !!

Blast! My apologies- I meant to say:

"This Interlude is dedicated to the brilliant SubRosa, who suggested a way for me to write myself out of the corner into which I had written myself."

Interlude 10

A letter from Fort Buckmoth, Vvardenfell to Sarethi Manor (a portion):

Serene:

My contact reports that they arrived at Thirsk and appear to be well?.

There is one bit of news I feel you should know- Athynae introduced Athlain as her "betrothed." She is probably not aware of the potential political issues, but I know that you are.

Your friend,

Imsin


A letter from Sarethi Manor, Vvardenfell to Duke Vedam Dren, Ebonheart:

Your Grace:

I am writing to request your assistance in a delicate matter. I would appreciate your approval of the attached formal declaration of betrothal between my daughter Athynae and Athlain, son of Trey and Baria of Indarys Manor. I have enclosed a letter from Trey and Baria granting their permission. However, I would prefer that this arrangement be kept confidential at present. Circumstances (and girlish whims) may change.

Thank you in advance for your kindness and discretion.

Sincerely,

Serene Sarethi

* * * * *

In an office in Ebonheart, one of Duke Vedam Dren's clerks leaves his desk and his paperwork for a few moments. He is conscientious, as are all of the Duke's people, but the luncheon he just consumed at the Six Fishes is not sitting well. He considers some strong words for that new serving girl. But before he can complete the thought, his digestive troubles demand his full attention.

He hurries out, leaving the office door open, and a slender girl with mixed Dunmer and Imperial features topped by startling red hair slips inside. She quickly locates the files regarding the East Empire Company's Raven Rock enterprise- and Carnius Magius, the factor in charge of the venture. What she reads causes her to hiss in triumph. She smiles and puts the files back in order. Turning to leave, she sees a paper lying on the desk, a paper that holds several familiar names. Curiosity comes as naturally to her as breathing- she pauses to read. And as she reads, the triumphant smile fades and her face grows pale:

Hah! So Athynae married herself!

The last part has a lot of telling. I realize you probably just want to make it a quick note, but it would read better if you dug deeper into it and showed more, especially if you fleshed out the mysterious red-haired Dunmer (is that Athynae? I thought she had long hair?). You could probably remove the first paragraph entirely, and just concentrate maybe 6 or 7 paragraphs on how the spy slipped something into his lunch to make him sick, then got into the office pretending to be a janitor, etc...

I don't know anything about writing into corners. I shall leave things that are beyond my comprehension (like intricate plotweaving) to the experts, like trey, SubRosa and mALX. :shrug:

Here is what I do know. Athynae has fairly short hair -certainly compared to the real treydog . Screenie of Athynae is at the bottom of this http://www.gamesas.com/bgsforums/index.php?showtopic=836191&st=177.

I relished seeing Athlain's Athynae here quite clearly:

"Short-cropped" may be a poor choice of phrase- her hair isn't really "cropped," which rather implies almost a "crew-cut" look.

On a different issue, although these interludes are supposed to serve as exposition, here I feel that what may have been intended as a trail of bread crumbs is more a super-highway, complete with big orange arrows and neon signs.

The information is out there now, and cannot be erased, but I am more than willing to try a more subtle re-write...

I leave it to my faithful readers to decide whether it needs a thorough edit. ^_^

Meanwhile- off to play Fallout 3, traitor that I am.

Fallout 3, is that where the Raven Rock comes from? Lol. Oh, it was just too quick, not enough for a fix really, although hugely informative in some ways, barren and sere in others. ARGH! I need more, this was like someone letting you smell dinner cooking then sealing it up and taking it away without you ever getting your first taste of it, just the aroma lingering in the air to drive your senses crazy - However, I realize it is NYE, so I don't want you to spend it slaving over this - I hope your New Years ROCKS - and I will face west and think of you and Mrs. Treydog at midnight!! (and if you ever figure out how to beat the final battle in the MZ, let me know - I have been stuck in the ship for 5 months now, lol).


EDIT: I hope you gleaned from the above that I did not want you to do a re-write but was just complaining about how short the chapter was because I love to read as much as you put out. It was like getting a snack when you are hungry for a dinner...wait, that is another food anolagy. I must be hungry! Well, I will get off the boards now and go stuff myself...etc. - Just teasing with you Treydog. I love your story no matter how short or long you make the chapter, I just got on here to make sure you knew I was not requesting a re-write, just teasing another chapter out of you.

@Everyone- After some consideration, I did a re-write of the last part of the Interlude. I think it shows Athynae as more "active" in making an opportunity to get a peek at those files. It also makes it somewhat less "neon sign" and more "bread crumbs" (I hope).

@SubRosa- As always, your thoughtful comments and critiques are appreciated. They often nail down why certain things felt "unfinished"; more important- they provide me ways to improve the writing.

@Acadian- I only hope my red-haired bowgirl pleases you as much as your (skinny blonde) wood elf does me.

@mALX1- No worries- you are too good-natured (and good-humored) to ever give offense. And, since I was suffering Maxical withdrawal myself... I understand the exquisite agony of a mere taste...

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Chapter 10

My first impulse was to crumple the letter and toss it to the floor, but I could not. First, because it might be the last thing I would have from Athynae's own hand; second, because of the final words:

I will look for you in Ald'ruhn when the flowers bloom.

For the rest, it read rather like a conversation with Athynae- darting and swooping from one topic to the next- with only a passing nod to conventions of logic, grammar, and punctuation. Under normal circumstances, her thought processes were convoluted; under duress, they were positively labyrinthine. A careful reading brought several points to the fore: she had discovered some useful information regarding Carnius Magius (enclosed); she had also discovered something unexpected (and unnamed) regarding herself and her family; the unnamed discovery placed her in a difficult position related to her honor and her feelings for me; she was sorry for some unspecified sin she had committed against me, and hoped I would forgive her.

What the flood of words did NOT contain was any indication of where she had gone. There was a postscript, informing me that I "must see Brynjolfr before leaving Thirsk." The word "must" was underlined three times. Moving slowly, I folded the note and tucked it away inside my cuirass, my fingers brushing the scarf that I had wrapped around my throat. Then I stooped to pick up the Mark and Recall amulets; she had suggested a way I might use them to deal with Carnius. I looked around the room, wanting to do nothing so much as throw myself upon the bed in which we each had slept, although never together. But I could not. Honor had compelled Athynae to leave this place; honor pressed upon me to do the same.

I descended the stairs to find Svenja waiting. She looked at me with sadness in her eyes and said,

"She left not long after you. And before you ask, she did not say where she was going or why. It was better if I did not know, she said. That way I would not have to decide whether to tell or keep silent."

She gave a small smile, "Maybe she let something slip to that writer-fellow- he was interested in what she knew of the Nords and the Skaal. But first, she insisted that I send you to the smith."

She put a friendly hand on my shoulder and pushed me toward the door:

"So go see Brynjolfr. And when you come back, I will have some mulled cider for you."

The smith was hard at work when I entered his forge, and he struck the sword he was shaping a few more times before quenching it in a tank of water. Then he stretched his back and nodded to me. He went to a shelf and picked up a cloth-wrapped bundle which he brought to the front of the forge.

"She was here," he said. "And then she left. But she brought me this and watched while I put it together. She said you would have need of it."

He slowly picked at the cord that tied the bundle, an odd expression on his face.

"My granny had the Sight. And when yer girl handed me this, she got a look as is if the telling was upon her. 'Ye make this, and ye make sure Athlain takes it. Tell him,' she said, 'tell him I expect him to stay alive.'"

He looked up with a grin: "If I was ye, I'd do as she says. That 'un is just as like to follow ye into Oblivion and drag ye back by the scruff a' the neck."

Then he pulled away the cloth to reveal a mace. How plain those words look on the page. It was more than a weapon; it was a thing of beauty. The head was dark as a starless night sky, and I realized it was made of ebony. The spikes gleamed in stark contrast, and Brynjolfr pointed to them with pride:

"Silver, they are. That was her idea. I bored holes in the ebony and threaded them; the spikes are threaded, too. The handle is ash; it willna shatter."

I also detected the glow of magicka on the weapon and reached out my hand to touch it. The spell was one that would transfer an enemy's life force to me on a successful strike. That would certainly help me obey Athynae's admonition to stay alive, especially since the spell would cause me no harm if it was reflected. The mace was a masterpiece of craftsmanship and was also worth a king's ransom. I lifted its Dwemer cousin from the loop at my side and handed it to the smith.

"Keep this safe for me, if you would. I? took it from home, and would like to be able to return it one day."

Brynjolfr wrapped my old mace in the cloth that had held the new one and stored it behind the forge.

"Aye. It'll be here when ye call for it." He cleared his throat and swiped a massive hand across his eyes.

"Now be off wi' ye, and let a man get on wi' his work."

There was no more to say; I returned to the mead hall to pick up my pack and to thank Svenja for all her help. She acknowledged my thanks and gave me some advice, along with the promised cider:

"Before you go, talk to Bereditte Jastal, the writer. He may have information that will be helpful."

Her blue eyes darkened as she added,

"Be respectful to the Skaal in the village, but don't beg. They appreciate courtesy, but they despise weakness. And they have little reason to love the Empire."

Argh! You managed to give me the information I sought and still leave me in the dark! (let's see, silver & ebony=undead and daedra?) - I hope you both had an Awesome holiday season and new years! I was riveted from beginning to end in this chapter.

So...Athynae has a touch of Fey? (there you go Foxy!)

Startling is a good word indeed to describe anything of Athynae's, including her hair! I must say the re-write of the interlude is vastly better than the original, and all in the same amount of words. Impressive.

The new chapter was solid doggie-goodness as well. I especially liked Athlain's description of Athynae's chaotic thought processes, and his translation of Athynae-speak. It may just be me, but Athlain seems to really jump out of the page and shine the most when he is somehow relating to Athynae. It is an old saw, but she really does seem to bring out the best in him. In the very least she brings out a depth of emotion in him that nothing else can match, not even his sense of being smothered by his father's name.




I think what you are looking for howls at the full moon...