I love the meeting with Merowald, and Martin there to see the heart and soul of Julian - I hope he was impressed by the quiet hero, I sure was!

Funny you should say that magic is energy. That is what it is called in modern practice. Energy. But I digress.

Again, it is the quiet moments like these which I prefer, as they shed so much more light on who people are. I thoroughly enjoyed this comfortable sit down with an old friend. Pass some of that mutton and cheese this way please!


I loved this:
There's been a couple of times I've been glad these greaves are dark brown


nits:

though only two of the Guard was left to hold the place.
I believe you want were here, as the subject is plural (two). That is if I am reading the subject correctly as two, it can be tricky at times.

This was a pleasure to read. :read:

I think you did a great job of providing a sense of ground covered (Skingrad to Weye), yet only focusing on the important things of your choosing - nice and well balanced.

Good conversation with Martin along the road and a wonderful lunch with an old friend in Weye.

As I said when Julian did the quest 'Go Fish', I love how you have developed Merowald's character. A hearty meal, old friends, and good conversation. All that was needed was a roaring fire and a nip of Cyrodiilic brandy to make the afternoon complete. :foodndrink: Alas, I know that Julian and Martin have places to go and things to do.

I have one small nit:

this might read better as: The high sun was being chased by gathering clouds when we reached the Red Ring Road.
The way that you have written it one can mistakenly assume that it is the road being chased by the clouds.

A loaf of bread
A Cup of coffee
And thy story
What else doth one need?
More would be greed
But alas, I am greedy
And thus do I plead:
Since thy prose scores
pleasure down to my pores...
I needs must plead...

M.O.R.E!!!

What can I say?? Oh, I know- Wonderful!

@mALX1: That was the purpose of the chapter - a way for Martin to see what kind of person Julian is, the kind of person he can trust with his welfare and his secrets. I'm glad you enjoyed the company!

@SubRosa: I'm glad you enjoyed this quiet interlude. Things will pick up again, faster than either Julian or Martin will like. As for your nit, it will be fixed!

@Acadian: The road was tough to cover - as I had originally written, it was a lot of conversation, but nothing important to the story, I felt. I touched on some of the highlights in the last two chapters, as you have noticed.

@Destri: Thanks for picking up on the nit - I will fix it. I really enjoyed writing this little interlude - it's always good to have good food, good drink, and good company. Just what Julian and Martin needed on the long walk from Skingrad.

@D.Foxy: Your wish is my command, good sir.

@RemkoNL: I hope to send more wonderfulness your way!

Now back to the reality of the Main Quest:

**************

Chapter 5.4 Thievery and Death

The rain started as we passed Fort Nikel, picking up the Black Road toward Chorrol. We trudged on into the highlands, not speaking much to each other. At first, it was just a light drizzle, but as we passed Fort Ash, it became a downpour. The entire afternoon was grey, and our mood turned to match it. After two days of walking, I was looking forward to the simple, warm hospitality of the Priory. Perhaps Martin will find some peace at last. He still had dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep, and I could guess at the nightmares that haunted him.

Thoroughly drenched, we reached the bend in the road that led to Weynon Priory. The priory itself was a dark shadow in the rain, the chapel on its hilltop an even fainter shadow. "There it is, Martin," I said, pointing at the barely visible structures ahead. "A warm fire, good food -" my voice trailed off when the clash of steel on metal, the shouts of men in combat, reached us. Dropping Paint's rein, I drew my longsword, shaking my shield into my left hand. Beside me, Martin drew his dagger. We started toward the Priory, but did not get far before a running figure appeared out of the downpour.

It was Eronor. "Weynon Priory is under attack!" he gasped when he saw me. "They're killing everyone!"

Peering toward the priory, I could see a robed figure battling a familiar hulking form. Recognizing the daedric armor, I caught my breath. Assassins!

"Stay with Paint!" I shouted, as much at Martin as at Eronor. Without looking to see if they obeyed, I hobbled toward the priory as fast as my bum knee would let me. Two red-armored figures loomed at me, both with maces raised high. Skipping to my left, I stabbed the sword beneath the lower edge of the daedric cuirass of the nearer assassin. Not stopping my forward movement, I recovered the blade and turned the Kvatch Wolf toward the second assassin. The coldness of a frost-flare shot past me and impacted the shoulder of the assailant. He staggered, and I shoved him off balance with the shield. Slipping to his right, behind him, I backhanded the blade across the back of his knees.

Turning back to the first assassin, I found him already dead, frost across his face and the top part of his cuirass, already melting away in the rain. Martin ignored the glare I shot him, before I spun away and plunged my sword into the exposed neck of the second assailant.

"Son of a farmer, huh?" I panted at Martin as we continued toward the priory and the persistent sounds of combat. In the porte-cochere, Brother Piner was fending off the assaults of two more assassins. Not bad for a monk, I thought silently as Piner wove his slim katana in an intricate web of slashes and parries that kept the two assassins at bay. One of them fell as I approached the other. Another frost-flare drew him away from Piner and towards me. My steel sword sparked as I slashed at the cuirass, already made brittle by Martin's potent magic. The tip of the blade sank into the other's abdomen, catching on bone before I could pull my swing.

As the assassin fell lifeless from my weapon, I looked at Piner over his body. "Thank Talos you've returned!" he gasped, lowering his katana slightly. "Brother Jauffre is in the chapel!" Ignoring the pain in my knee, I ran past Martin, toward the chapel. I could hear the priest and the monk at my back as I flung the chapel door open.

Two assassins towered over Jauffre. The old man was deceptively quick, though, fending off their attack with a slim two-handed weapon, longer than Piner's katana. He sent the two assassins reeling from his counter-attack. One of them staggered into my ready blade, which slid into the gap in his side. Taking his greater weight on my sword, I angled the tip upwards into the rib cage, seeking vital structures.

Piner stepped past me and took on the other assassin. Unable to decide which of the two monks was the greater threat, the assailant fell quickly before their flashing blades.

As the daedric armor dissolved into sulfuric smoke, leaving behind ordinary-looking corpses, Jauffre and I stared at each other. "They must be after the Amulet!" he exclaimed. "I have it hidden in a secret room in the priory. I must go and see if it is still safe!" Not waiting for a response from me or Piner, he ran past Martin out the chapel.

"Wait!" I shouted. What if there is an ambush inside the priory? The old Breton kept running. Cursing my bum knee, which stabbed with each stride, I hobbled after him, back out in that pouring rain. He passed a black-robed body slumped against the front facade of the priory and slammed through the door. In the brief second I allowed myself, I recognized the dead man. Prior Maborel. My stride faltered, but I forced myself to continue into the priory, hearing Jauffre's footsteps already pounding up the stairs.

Following the Grandmaster to the landing, I found one of the bookcases shoved to one side, books scattered on the floor from its shelves. Jauffre had disappeared through a doorway in the wall, an opening that had been covered by the bookcase.

Entering behind him, I took in the chaos of the small room, the overturned chest and desk, and the sudden despair in Jauffre's shoulders as he sheathed the long blade at his back. "They have the Amulet," he muttered. "The enemy has defeated us at every turn!"

"How could they know of the Amulet?" I exclaimed, stunned. "I told no one of it! Only Baurus knew I had it!"

Jauffre turned to face me, his gaze grim. "Dagon is powerful," he answered my question. "He can see things invisible to us mortals."

Sheathing my sword, I returned to the landing. Piner and Martin stood near the stairs, Piner closing his eyes in discouragement, and Martin regarding us uncertainly. How hard has this been for him, I thought, seeing again the weariness and exhaustion in his gaze. Two nights of horror, two days of hiking, now combat, and not knowing who is friend and who is foe. I waved him up, turning back to Jauffre. "I found Martin, sir," I said to the Grandmaster. "Here, he is safe. Martin, this is Grandmaster Jauffre of the Blades. He served your father for many years."

"I still serve the Emperor," Jauffre turned to Martin and bowed deeply. "So it has not all gone against us," he addressed us both. "Talos be thanked! But Martin can not stay here. Once they learn about him, they will track him down."

"Where will he be safe?" I asked, thinking of Martin's fatigue, of my own.

"Nowhere is truly safe," Jauffre responded, clasping Martin's shoulder encouragingly. He too, had noted Martin's exhaustion. "But Cloud Ruler Temple near Bruma is the best place for now." He looked around the landing, at the books scattered across the floor. "First, we must rest and recoup." Heading for the stairs, he turned back in our direction. "My Lord," he said quietly, "welcome to Weynon Priory. I apologize for the reception. If you'll follow me, please."

Martin shot me a slightly panicked glance. It's beginning to sink in. He's Uriel's son, not the son of some farmer as he has believed all these years.

As Jauffre led Martin to a seat beside the fire, I went outside, back into the rain. Eronor appeared, leading Paint. "Is it over?" he asked. I nodded, stopping beside Prior Maborel's body. "I was in the sheepfold, when I heard voices," he said, joining me beside the black-robed corpse. "They seemed like ordinary travelers, talking to Prior," his voice became ragged. "All of a sudden, weapons appeared in their hands and they struck him down. I ran, and found you."

If only we had walked a little faster. If only we hadn't stopped for lunch at Weye. As I watched, Paint stepped to Maborel's body, nosing him briefly, then recoiled, sidling away. It's the blood, and bowels. Horses don't like death. I took the rein from Eronor and led Paint away, toward the stable. Putting him away in his stall, I removed the saddle and bridle.

Eronor had followed me, and took the tack from me. "I'll take care of him," he said quietly, sadness making his voice unsteady. "Go on inside, Julian." Taking the pack from the saddle, I turned back to the priory.

Piner stood outside, looking down at Maborel. "I'm sorry, Brother," I said quietly. He raised his eyes to me, his cheeks wet, from tears or the rain, I couldn't tell. His eyes were dark, sad. Turning away from me, he knelt beside the prior. As I had done with Rilian in the castle at Kvatch, he closed the older man's eyes.

Eronor appeared from the rear, pulling a fodder cart behind him. He stopped the cart next to Maborel's body. Wordlessly, Piner and I moved to pick up the dead prior, and gently laid him out in the cart. We helped Eronor pull the wooden cart up to the chapel's door. First carrying out the bodies of the two assassins, we dumped them unceremoniously outside the chapel, off to the side.

Piner brought out a wooden bier from a storage cabinet near the door, and set it up in front of the small altar. Covering it with a white cloth, he led me back out to the cart. Together, with Eronor holding the door for us, we brought Maborel inside and set him down on the bier.

"Thank you for your help, Julian," Piner turned to me. "I'll take care of this." It was a dismissal. I understood. Brothers take care of their own. Returning out to the rain, I helped Eronor gather the bodies of the assassins, loading up the cart. Together we took them to the road leading away from the priory, toward the Black Road. Eronor stopped the cart at the side of the path.

"I'll take them up to Chorrol in the morning," he said to me quietly. "The Watch needs to be notified about this. Thanks for helping, Julian." He gripped my shoulder. "Now go inside and warm up."

Once more you ratchet up the heat! I think you are hitting your stride now, and are maintaining a good pace of action vs. development scenes.

This line of description stood out to me, as it really sets the dark, uncertain mood I believe you were looking for:
The priory itself was a dark shadow in the rain, the chapel on its hilltop an even fainter shadow.


When I read this:
"First, we must rest and recoup."
I could not help but to think - "And put those heads on pikes around the priory" I blame Rachel!

The interaction between Julian and Martin through the battle itself were very revealing! Awesome write !!!!!

As I said, I usually just keep the Amulet of Kings, and I have several characters who have never even touched the main quest. The farthest I got was taking Martin to Cloud Ruler Temple. It bothered me that there was no form of goodbye given to the slain Prior Maborel. As far as I know his body stays outside Weynon Priory for the rest of the game. It was nice to see you deal with it in a way that makes sense and reveals more of the character of Brother Piner, who comes across as less of an appendage in your story.

One nit:

I think you mean the past tense, 'plunged' here.

:read: Chapter 5.4. Very nicely done throughout. Ominous mood setting, vivid descriptions, engaging dialogue, great combat, nice pacing. . . what's not to love?

This story was a pleasure to read.

That you have :nod: Well done!

@all: Thanks for the encouragement and responses!

SubRosa, I had Rachel's Jauffre begging for those heads the whole time I was rewriting this chapter! It was all I could do to say no! And Destri, yes, Prior Maborel's body stays where it falls in the game. I always hated the callous treatment of fallen heroes and comrades in-game. Your nit has been fixed.

A few of the highlights along the Orange Road to Bruma. I first rode this at night, and some of the views from there are simply breathtaking, especially on a clear night with both moons high overhead. Enjoy.

******************

Chapter 6.1 Night Ride

The rain had stopped when we returned to the horses. I sat on Paint, looking back at the Priory. The overcast sky made the dark night even darker. Water dripped from the trees and roofs, matching our mood.

Next to me, Martin waited on the calm bay mare. He seemed a little uneasy, and I wondered if it was due to fatigue, or to lack of riding experience. He seemed to know what he was doing, however, so I decided it must be fatigue.

"We need to leave tonight," Jauffre's voice echoed in my mind. He had insisted we eat something while our gear was drying off by the fire. "They won't expect us to leave until morning. If they return, we must be gone." I couldn't argue with his logic, but Martin, Paint and I were tired from the past few days.

Beyond Martin, Jauffre's chestnut stallion jibbed at the bit, tossing his head and prancing. The Grandmaster noticed my regard, and nodded calmly, his hands steady and quiet on the reins of his restless mount.

Ahead, the road led out of the priory, northward to meet with the Orange Road. Turning Paint's head, I smooched him into a walk. He stepped forward without hesitation. Behind, I heard the other two horses fall in behind me, the mare's slow footfalls and the stallion's quick strides.

Reaching the Orange Road, we moved eastward, where the road wound through the foothills of the Jeralls. The cobblestoned way dropped down a steep slope, then turned northward to rise again. Paint picked his way carefully across the slippery stones. As we neared a curve, I saw a dark figure appear out of the night, unshouldering a large battle axe. At the same time, I felt a sharp breeze pass just in front of my nose. Leaning back so abruptly that Paint half-reared in front of me, I heard the distinctive twang of a bowstring somewhere in the trees on my right. Archer!

Dismounting, I caught a glimpse of Martin and Jauffre doing the same. While I turned for the bandit with the battle axe, Jauffre took off into the woods to the south of the road, his weapon drawn and ready. The bandit swung wildly at me, nearly knocking me off balance when I deflected the axe with my shield. His momentum carried him past me, toward Martin, who flung a frost flare into the bandit's chest.

As the bandit staggered back toward me, I limped behind him and slammed my sword overhand into his right shoulder. His weapon arm effectively disabled, the bandit lost his grip on the axe. He whirled toward me, his left fist aiming for my face. Ducking his roundhouse blow, I moved to sink my blade into his leather-covered chest. Before I could do so, he staggered, his eyes flying wide, and collapsed at my feet, blood gurgling black from his mouth.

Looking up, I saw Martin standing just behind him, his own silver dagger bloodied to the hilt. We locked eyes, and I frowned, not liking his quickness to engage in combat. Jauffre joined us, already sheathing his drawn weapon. "That archer's dead," he stated simply.

"I wish you wouldn't jump in so quickly, sir," I said quietly to Martin. He glanced up at me in surprise.

"I don't want to sit idly by and let you do all the work, Julian," he countered softly. "I am not Emperor, yet."

"And I don't want you getting killed before you are Emperor, sir," I replied, keeping my voice even. "It is my job to protect you."

Martin shook his head, his mouth grim. "And I don't want to see my friend killed in front of me," he held my stare steadily. "I've had enough of that, Julian."

I turned to Jauffre in silent appeal. In the gloom, his blue eyes twinkled at us, though his face remained stern. "Tiber Septim led from the front lines," he said to me, "as did Uriel the Fifth." He turned his intent gaze to Martin. "However, if you, my Lord, are killed before the Dragonfires are lit, we have no way of turning back Mehrunes Dagon's plans for Tamriel."

Martin fidgeted under Jauffre's level stare. He looked at me, just a little abashed. "I will be careful, I'll promise you that much, Julian." That's all I'm going to get from Martin. It is enough. It has to be.

Clambering aboard Paint from a nearby boulder, I twisted in the saddle to look back at Martin, who was already guiding the mare towards me. "You're a priest, sir, who grew up a farmer and trained to be a mage." I said to him. "Where in Oblivion did you learn to fight like that?"

Martin's smile was barely visible in the darkness. "My fa - the man who raised me," his voice held amusemant, "was in the Legion for many years, much like you, Julian, before he retired and went into farming. He taught me how to use a dagger." His face turned away from me to look down the road ahead of us. "When I was part of the Kvatch Mages Guild, I specialized in destruction. I had the opportunity to practice those skills when I left the Guild." Now he looked back at me. "I've been a priest only for the last five or six years, Julian." He shrugged. "Old habits die hard, I guess."

I blinked, my mind working fast. He was placed with a Legion soldier? Was that Legion soldier already retired, or was he forced to retire when he was handed the babe? Leaning to my left just a little, I looked past Martin at Jauffre. The Grandmaster returned my gaze blandly.

********
The sky cleared as we started up the switchbacks leading into the Jerall Mountains themselves. Stars twinkled between the black leaves of the trees, and the twin moons cast dappled light across the cobblestones. As we climbed higher, the trees grew thinner along with the air, and opened up glimpses of the lowlands. Near the topmost switchback, I looked down the mountain range, and caught my breath at the vista spread below us.

Lake Rumare glistened softly in the moonlight, an argent halo around the white marble of the Imperial City and the tall spire of White Gold Tower. Stopping Paint near an outcropping, I dismounted and walked to the edge of the road, where the ground disappeared in a plunging escarpment. Kneeling in the grass, I studied the landscape below us, matching its contours with the map in my head.

Behind me, I heard Martin's breath catch as he paused, taking in the awe-inspiring sight. Looking up at him, I saw the growing fatigue in his star-filled eyes. "Shall we stop here for a rest?" I glanced back to include Jauffre in my question. The old monk began to nod agreement, but stopped at Martin's head shake.

"Let's keep going," the priest answered. "I haven't had a good night's sleep since Kvatch."

************
The road crested just below the snowline, skirting the shoulders of the Jerall Mountains. The moons shone unobstructed on the cobblestones, outlining everything around us in silver.

"Is it true, Grandmaster," Martin's voice reached me as we walked along the road, "that it never rains in Bruma, only snows?"

"Aye, even in the summer," Jauffre responded. "It is so high, the air is crisp and clear, and blizzards are common in the summer. During the winter, it is often too cold to snow."

"Too cold to snow?" Martin repeated. "I find that hard to believe."

"Believe it," I responded, hearing irony in my tone. "The Wrothgarians are higher and colder than this. Have you not noticed how chilly it's become? I've been seeing my breath since we left Chorrol!" I shivered in my cuirass, thankful for its long sleeves. The oiled leather had repelled the worst of the rain, but my hair and the back of my neck were damp and chilly. My hands felt frozen to the reins. With some difficulty, I unclenched my left hand and flexed my fingers, trying to shake some warmth back into them. I managed to do the same to better effect with my right. "Are you two warm enough?" I called back, thinking of their woolen robes.

"Yes," Martin responded, though I could hear his teeth pvssyring. "Wool is warm, even when wet, thank Akatosh." He exclaimed softly, under his breath. "Speaking of Akatosh -" he called my attention to the circular colonnade perched on the mountainside to the left of the road. "I believe that is his one of his wayshrines."

Bringing Paint to a halt, I dismounted when Martin did so. "Shall we go look?" he asked me.

"Very well," I answered, glad of the chance to get down and walk a bit. My heinie is almost frozen to the saddle. Jauffre motioned for us to hand him the reins of our horses. He remained on his stallion, eyes watchful. Martin found the half-buried marble steps leading up to the small circle of white columns, which were topped by a dark grey ring-shaped cornice.

Joining Martin beside the small altar within, I studied the round object. Martin laid a hand on the rim, and was immediately covered in a white burst. "It will heal you," he said, "cure any diseases you have, and, in the case of Akatosh, give you a blessing of speed for a short time." He gestured for me to touch the altar as well.

Returning to Jauffre and the horses, I commented to Martin, "That blessing of speed can be useful. Too bad it can't be used on Jauffre's horse."

Martin chuckled softly. "Red is not as fast as he thinks he is," he said, reaching for the bay mare's reins. Jauffre smiled as he handed me Paint's. "Jasmine, on the other hand," Martin continued, mounting the mare effortlessly, "knows her own limitations, it seems."

Leading Paint to a nearby rock to mount, I laughed softly. "I'm not sure of Paint, except that he has been a good companion." Swinging into the saddle, I ran my hand down his crest. Paint tossed his head, then bumped his nose lightly against my right knee.

"Paint is like you," Martin responded. "Brave and courageous."

Heat rose in my cheeks, and I was glad of the darkness. "I think he is wiser than I am," I remarked. "He certainly has been very patient with me."

"That is why the good Prior," Jauffre's voice faltered momentarily, "gave him to you."

Twisting around in the saddle, I looked back at Jauffre as Paint started eastward down the road. "Prior Maborel did tell me it was more a matter of trusting him with me, rather than the other way around."

"Paint and Jasmine are not foolhardy at all," Jauffre's voice turned warm in the cold night. "Red, on the other hand," I heard him slap the chestnut stallion affectionately on the neck, "thinks his balls are bigger than anyone else's."

"Like all stallions," Martin remarked, the humor still in his voice. And some men, I added silently to myself.

ARGH! You had so many good lines in this I could not quote them all - the first is the conversation when Julian was upset at Martin for risking his life, then discussing the personalities of their horses at the end - AWESOME !!! Hauty, You ROCK !!!!!

QFT :rofl:

This was a nice interlude. I loved your description of the night road, and the view from the mountains down to the lake. Likewise your description of Bruma and how it's climate is so different from the rest of the cities in Cyrodiil.


This line I especially liked, and is quoted for truth (I see Remko got to it first):
"Like all stallions," Martin remarked, the humor still in his voice. And some men, I added silently to myself.


nits:
The bandit's attack felt implausible to me. I know it is a common enough occurrence in the game, but in reality one man attacking three armed people would have to be insane. If there had been more bandits it would have been believable. Or if you had made it evident that the lone attacker was indeed mad, high, or otherwise not in their right mind.

Wonderful, again. You made the journey very interesting. I envy your skill with managing the conversations of three as well as the actions of their mounts - very nicely done.

I try to avoid Bruma unless I have to go there because of that darn snow!

Ahah! So there we have it! Go Julian! :rock:

Only one small...nit?...to pick...the transformation of Martin from Monk to Gung-ho warrior seems to be ... psychologically...a little too quick. A man does not become a soldier, still less a leader of men, and a 'damn the torpedoes! Full speed ahead!' battler all at once. It takes a slow, learning process to become a warrior.

But other than that, delightful, as always!

:thumbsup:

Your description of the climb towards Bruma made me get up and close my window because I was getting too cold.

Something that the fight with the bandit made me notice: Julian, like most of my Redguard characters, never makes use of her racial special. I would be very interested in reading your description of the Adrenaline Rush ability.

Oh yes, one last thing. . .heinie??

The insight into Julian's past was welcome and wonderfully depicted. The meditation on magic, equally so. Your descriptions of setting and mood are brilliant, placing me in the midst of the moment.

As to Martin's "berserker tendencies"- perhaps it is Talos manifesting himself, now that Martin is the last of the Dragon blood?

@mALX1 and RemkoNL: I'm glad you continue to enjoy the interaction between Julian and Martin. I just couldn't resist slipping in that last part of the stallion's balls. Funny how many of the women I know (myself included, to a point) encourage that attitude in the stallions (ooh, he's got high libido!), but tend to frown on that same high-spirited behavior in men. Poor men, when you think about it.

@SubRosa: Your concern about the bandit attack is valid. On the one hand, in the dark, what could he see but two monks and an old escort (remember Julian's white hair? It's got to stand out in the dark)? Easy pickings for a bandit armed with a big ol' battleaxe, right? Still, it makes more sense if he had a partner somewhere? Maybe an archer in the trees off to the side of the road? A little sniping to take out the old escort first - the monks oughta be easy to pick off then, right? I rewrote that part of the chapter to make it a little more realistic. I hope you find it more suitable to the overall feel of the story. :toughninja:

@Acadian: Spoken like a true Southerner! (Or Southwesterner, as the case may be!) Actually, Julian is with you, having grown up in the Mediterranean climate of Anvil; yet she has been posted in more than a few cold places, as I'm sure you have gathered by now. And some of the most dramatic vistas are from the high places, which are naturally cold! Brrgh! :cold:

@D.Foxy: I had noticed that transformation in the game, too. It seemed weird that he could go from mild-mannered priest to a raging berserker at the drop of a hat. I had spent quite a bit of time thinking about that as I played through the game the first time. I had become so accustomed to the backstory I had come up with, that I took it for granted. Thanks for reminding me that the game never addresses that aspect of Martin's character. When I rewrote the bandit attack, I brought up a little more of Martin's backstory. I hope that satisfies your itching nit. :facepalm:

@Destri Melarg: It never seemed consistent to me that Redguards have a Greater/Lesser racial power, given their historical/cultural distaste for Eastern magic. Reading the description of the Adrenaline Rush, I got the feeling that it is something that is natural, and comes out only in times of extreme stress (like the classic example of a frail mother lifting a car off her young'un). In my gameplay, I've very rarely made use of the racial powers, and Adrenaline Rush (in my case anyways) made not much of a noticeable difference in my character. As Julian has leveled up, she has become so strong and so agile, that any extra edge such an Adrenaline Rush could give her was not needed. For purposes of my fan fic, though, I will hold that in reserve for extreme cases. Right now, she is relying on her Legion training, and it is sufficient for her purposes thus far. Oh, and heinie = behind. The forum wouldn't let me use my favored version of the usual a-word, which is actually the British version. Apparently if pluralized, it's okay, but if not, it's [censored]. Go figure. :shrug:

@treydog: That's a cool spin on Martin's "Berserker" tendencies. Mine tends to be prosaic by comparison. I've always thought it would be Akatosh working through the Emperor, since it is his essence tied up in the Amulet of Kings; Talos is the first of the Septim bloodline, and apparently Akatosh worked through him, as well. :confused:

I wanted to let everyone know that I posted the rewritten chapter for all to review. I will be posting the next chapter in a while, once I've given it a last once-over. Everything thus far has been rewritten at least three times, then I put it away and move on to the next chapter; I don't look at them again until I'm ready to post. I'm about fourteen chapters ahead of this last post. It's going to be a long story, I'm afraid! I do hope everyone keeps enjoying it - though it's about something that most of us have played more than once, and consider to be pretty tedious for the most part! :rolleyes:

That does read much smoother and feel right. In fact, the fight is much more exciting now, and Jauffre has something to do. Nicely done! :thumbsup:

On the subject of looking like monks, keep in mind that in a world where magic is real, and most magicians (i.e. The Mages Guild) seem to walk around wearing plain robes, I would be much more afraid of someone like that than someone dressed head to toe in armor. You can fight the one in armor, but the robed ones will make you explode before you can even get close. Or summon a Daedra to rip you apart. Tamriel really is a world where you cannot judge a book by its cover.

Fourteen more you say! Yippie! :twirl: Keep them coming!

Oh, and about time for a new thread already!

Awesome line!!!!!! I found no fault with the story before, but if the changes brought this in, then I'm glad you made them !!!

Wonderful before and wonderful still! :nod: I like the little touches of insight and depth you added.

Now, what is the name of this thread? How cool was it to weave THAT in ?!?!?? Bravo, Rider! :twirl:

This story is sooo good!

Hi all.

I'm posting one last time to let everyone know that I'm requesting this thread be locked. Everyone can find the continuation over on the second thread:

http://www.gamesas.com/bgsforums/index.php?showtopic=1077538

Thanks to all who have been reading Julian's story, and a special thanks to all who have commented - you have helped me refine the story in ways I couldn't begin to enumerate!