I bet you feel a lot better now that you have gotten the assassination over with! (hmmm, that sounds odd when you take it out of context...) I know I did. Now your plot will not be so heavily constrained by the events of the game, and you have some breathing room to develop things as you like.

I loved this. It really brings home the fact that Julian is not an Uber-Max-Monster, but rather a real person.
"Dammit!" Glenroy's explosion brought my head up in time to see him stalking towards me, his katana drawn. My pathetic attempt to rise to my feet resulted in my tripping over the dead assassin and falling backwards against the wall.

Quoted for Truth here:
"Sire," I responded, "These Blades are sworn to you, and it is obvious to me that they take their duty more seriously than their own lives. I understand why they do not trust me." Seeing the merest flicker in Baurus's shadowed gaze, I knew I had struck a nerve. "Believe me, were I in their place, I wouldn't trust me either."

I liked how you incorporated the dragon tattoo into Julian's military background. That background also helps a great deal in making Baurus' trust of her feel realistic, as they are both old soldiers.

I especially liked the flashback to when Julian was a child that was triggered by her meeting the Emperor. You not only give us a tantalizing peek into her background, but also firmly set the Emperor as a father-figure in her mind.


The only real nitpick I have this time:

Glenroy's better training gained the upper hand, however, and he moved out quickly into the chamber beyond, moving right on a diagonal from the archway.
You use variations of "move" twice here. Perhaps say:
Glenroy's better training gained the upper hand, however, and he moved out quickly into the chamber beyond, advancing right on a diagonal from the archway.

It is fantastic to see that you have stepped into the arena. Welcome.

I have been following the events from afar. Like the shadow that slips down the wall on crabby legs and awaits the liquid quiet of night to again come out, I was curious to see how the first dungeon played out before commenting.

It was a delightful read, full of the drama and uncertainty that comes with a new game. Redguards have always been my fav fighter so that was very pleasing to see.
You captured the final assassin scene very well, there is always a moment when the assassin attacks your character and panic sets in. Well done there. :toughninja:

I am always amazed how that scene plays out very different with all my characters. Sometimes the assassin goes down straight away, other times it is me going down on my leather butt. Lol.

The first dungeon gives a writer little scope to display their own storyline. Grassland, hills, bandit camps and west end of London here we come. :twirl:

This was brilliantly handled. The build-up to the assassination was superb. You give us a sense of Uriel Septim that is barely apparent in the game. In your story the Emperor is a man who is worth all of the efforts taken to keep him alive.

The flashback to Julian's childhood was a nice touch. The depth of her devotion to a father that she doesn't even know is echoed in her devotion to an Emperor that she has barely met, and also makes her grief at his murder ring true. :goodjob:

Because you are in the head of this character, perhaps your reluctance to write this part of the story has something to do with Julian's depth of feeling as well as your own?

So that's why some people here you know who you are were nagging for you to finally get to writing!
Loved it!

@mALX1: Thanks again for your enthusiasm for Julian's story.

@Acadian: Thanks for the nits you found. They have been fixed.

The passages you highlighted resonated with me, too. I tried to portray Glenroy as being understandably suspicious of Julian, angry at the situation he found himself in, watching his comrades get killed one by one, the tension he undoubtedly felt when he shouldered the responsibility of the Emperor's welfare after Captain Renault's death. I felt all those things the first time I played through the tutorial, and I could not bring myself to be offended by his attitude towards Julian. She couldn't be offended, either. Maybe she was in a similar situation once long ago, and wasn't about to criticize Glenroy.

The necessary bath is next!

@SubRosa: Thanks to you as well for your nits - they have also been fixed.

I had mixed feelings about the tattoo. They're indelible, and people put things on themselves that they regret later, and they're stuck with those tats. But I felt it fit Julian, as an old soldier, and as an indelible mark of her Legion service, much like the Corps tattoos (I believe my uncle had one of those). It represents a big part of her life, and her Legion service plays a tremendous role in the person she is today.

I'm glad you (and others) have picked up on the meaning of that particular flashback - why would Julian come to care so much about an old man who was only a symbol to her before? And yes, for those few moments they were together in that dungeon, Uriel Septim filled a void Julian barely remembers she has.

@Winter Wolf: Thanks for reading Julian's story! I'm really glad you liked it. It won't be the first time Julian falls on her leather butt, either! Bandit camp coming up!

@Destri Melarg: I love getting inside the heads of my characters! For me, that is the hugest appeal of games like this. My vivid imagination goes into overdrive when I start playing a character, and it doesn't take long for me to get a feel for what a particular character is about, what motivates her (or him, as the case may be), and to see the world through that character's eyes. So in a sense, what Julian feels is what I feel. When I was playing through this part of the story, my imagination kept taking the dialogue off the soundtrack and freewheeling beyond the script. It felt wonderful to finally let go of the scripted version and just go with what I felt was right. The best part of it, is that it seems to be well-received here, and I'm glad for that.

@RemkoNL: Can I say how happy I am to see you on my thread? I love Rales Sarethi and his conversational style. So it means a lot to see your name as the "last post" on my thread.

Chapter 2.1 A New Purpose

Damn, it's freezing! My teeth started pvssyring almost immediately Still, the water was clean, the late afternoon sun warm, and the shore of Lake Rumare quiet. Relishing the feeling of weightlessness, I swam from one side of the dock, around its far end, to the other. Finally, I could stand myself no longer. Picking up handfuls of sand from the lake bottom, I started scrubbing the accumulated dirt, sweat and blood off my skin. My long hair went from grey to white as I rubbed at it until my scalp squeaked.

Unable to tolerate the cold water any longer, I clambered out to perch on the edge of the dock near the shore, using the edge of my palms to scraqe the water from my skin. Reaching for the stack of gear and clothes I had piled on the dock, I reached within the folds of the red robe, now tattered, to check that the Amulet still lay hidden.

Leaning over the water, I twisted the last of the moisture out of my hair. As the surface below rippled slowly, I studied my wavering reflection. My white hair cascaded around my gaunt face from a widow's peak above a high forehead. I haven't cut it in four years! I realized. Well, I've had other things on my mind. Studying my careworn features in the water, I tried to see what the Emperor saw in my face to trust me with something so precious as the Amulet. Grey-green eyes, deep-set, complete with crows-feet. Thin lips with fine lines bracketing them. A slightly bumpy nose. A naturally dark complexion with the grey cast of illness. Not exactly confidence-inspiring.

The soft breeze felt chill on my damp skin as I picked up the Amulet, cupping it in my hands. Its warmth was surprising, as were the aubergine swirling depths within the large red gem. This is supposed to contain the heart's blood of Akatosh Himself. Something about a Covenant. Straightening up against the pain in my side, I considered the jewel. How best to carry it to Jauffre? It had slipped around underneath my cuirass since I left Baurus, constantly feeding my worry of losing it.

Do I dare wear it? Taking a deep breath, I took the golden chain and put it around my neck. The Amulet slipped into my lap, the clasp failing to hold. What was it Baurus had said about it? "Only the heir of the true Septim blood can wear it." The full meaning of his statement hit me. This is how we find the true heir? The one who can wear it? In that case, it isn't me. For some reason, I felt relieved. The weight of the entire Empire was not a burden I wished to carry.

Slipping the robe on, I picked up the shortsword and used its blade to slice the skirts to just below my hips. Then I tore the severed skirt into smaller strips, and wrapped the Amulet in one. Knotting the fabric over it, I twisted the free ends into a cord, then tied it around my neck, beneath the robe. Doing the same with another narrow piece gave me a way to tie my long hair back into a ponytail.

The white arches of the Ayleid ruin across the water made me shiver. Those places were never my favorite - musty, ancient places with strange light-crystals, creaky traps that remained deadly after years of disuse, spots of decomposition and old bones on the floors and walls, and echoing architecture of odd proportions. Shivering from the sensation of being watched by that place - don't be silly, Julian, stone arches don't watch you, it's the creatures inhabiting them that do - I dressed quickly in my leathers, gathering up my gear. The shortsword went to my back, next to the quiver of arrows and the bow stave.

Picking up the longsword, I tested its edge - still keen. My memory compared the dark blade to the captain's katana, its almost musical balance and silent song. Sadly, I regretted returning it to Baurus. But that was the right thing to do, I told myself. It was not mine to keep. Returning my attention to the serviceable blade in my hand, I started moving through the rhythms of the Sunbird Dance. My body felt awkward, the movements clumsy. It's been a long time. I'm not sure I'm even doing this correctly.

"Let the energy flow through you," Jelin's voice reached me. "Let one position flow into the next. Only when you let the flow free will you develop grace with the blade."

As I persisted, the movements became a little easier, but the pain in my knee and left side held me back. Sighing, I sheathed the sword and picked up the pack I had found along the way. Leaving the dock, I turned my face west, with the walls of the City Prison, and beyond it, of Imperial City itself, on my left, and started marching.

It was more of a limp than a march, but I didn't mind. It was good to be outside again, with the breeze drying my hair. I needed a place to stop, to rest, to eat, to think things over, but not here. Not with that ruin across the way and the Prison above me.

After walking for a couple of hours, I came upon another weathered dock ahead. Slowing down, I looked around, for docks were usually associated with something else. Spotting a few tents up the slope from the shore, partially obscured by clustered boulders, I decided to check it out. Looking at the sun, I found it already touching the top of the mountains to the west.

Walking up the slope as carefully and quietly as I could in the oversized boots, I kept my eyes open for life. A dog alerted on me, his tail stiff behind him, and started barking. From the other side of the now-visible campfire, a Redguard appeared, unshouldering his bow and stringing it in a smooth motion. "I'm going to kill you!" he shouted, nocking an arrow to the bowstring. Raising my shield towards him, I drew my sword.

"I want no trouble!" I shouted back as the dog charged me. Damn! I was in no condition to battle two enemies at once, especially with one of them out of blade-range. Keeping the shield towards the bowman, I swung the sword at the dog. The tip of the blade bit deep into its side, and I felt the weight of the animal momentarily snag the weapon before it was flung away. Ignoring the momentary twinge - I hate killing dogs, but this one is loyal to the wrong man - I turned back to the Redguard, moving towards him.

"Too bad, trouble's found you!" the Redguard let his arrow fly, the barb sinking home in my shield and staggering me. Thank Akatosh, a broadhead tip. A bodkin could easily pierce the leather shield and keep going. Looking up in time to see him set another missile to his bowstring, I grabbed my balance in time to brace for the second arrow. It smacked into my shield, its tip just poking through and nicking the edge of my forearm.

Feeling the heat rise in my face, I stifled the string of curses bubbling up in my throat. Don't give in to anger. That's what got you into trouble the last time, I tried to remind myself, but my sword hand came up, fire flickering around my fingers. Unthinkingly, I switched the sword to my left hand, and flung the ball of fire - fire? - at the other's face. Dropping his bow, the Redguard clapped his hands to his face in pain, his actions effectively putting out the flames.

As he screamed in agony and rage, I hobbled up the slope as rapidly as I could. Not pausing to think about it, I flung another fireball at him to keep him off balance. Taking the sword back in my right hand, I slammed it into his ribs. The wind knocked out of him, the Redguard dropped his hands and grabbed at my shield, wrenching hard at the round leather. Momentarily resisting his attack, I suddenly let him have the shield and raised my right arm.

As he staggered at the sudden abatement of resistance, I brought the edge of the blade down as hard as I could into his left shoulder, the weapon cutting through his fur cuirass. He shouted again from the pain, and reeled back, his burned eyes on me.

"You're one of them," he hissed, and reached for his dagger. My anger suddenly gone, I stabbed the sword into his throat, ending the fight.

"You're one of those," I countered softly, lowering the tip of my sword to the ground and leaning briefly on it. Panting hard, I looked around at the campsite. Yup. Bandits. At the moment, there was no sign of more, and judging by the clutter around the fire, it was just the Redguard and the dog at present.

Crying and whining drew my attention over my shoulder to the dog, still laying at the edge of the campsite where I had left him. Noting his paralyzed hind limbs, I limped over to him and shushed him with a soft voice. When he closed his eyes and became quiet, I drove the tip of my blade into his heart, ending his agony. "If only you hadn't attacked me," I whispered to his lifeless eyes.

Returning to the campfire, I found a cooking pot full of boiling water. Picking up a nearby clay tumbler, I dipped it into the boiling water, then set it aside to cool. Dropping my gear near one of the tents, I searched the sacks scattered around the campsite, gathering carrots, an onion, and a shank of smoked mutton.

Using the Redguard's dagger, I chopped up the vegetables and some of the meat, and dropped them into another pot to cook. Now to think. The smith's hammer was quiet, had been since the Emperor had shoved the Amulet into my hands. A constant companion for four years, its absence was a welcome relief.

Maybe that old healing spell did more than I realized, I thought to myself. But no, it started easing up when the Emperor first spoke to me. I felt the Amulet, warm against my skin, under my cuirass. I have to do this. I have to carry out the task the Emperor entrusted me with. I must take this to Jauffre. What then?

In the years since my discharge from the Legion, I had been wandering aimlessly. I had sought refuge from the pain, the lack of purpose in my life, the memories of long-dead comrades and battle scenes, in anything that would make me forget, if only for a little while. Cheap wine, mead, ale, beer had helped only for a short while, but the pounding in my head had become worse each time I regained some resemblance of coherence.

In Bravil two years ago, I had discovered the limbo of skooma. Addiction had been swift and complete, when I found it was the only way I could still that incessant smith's hammer. It has only caused me more grief. I had found myself needing more and more skooma, reduced to begging to obtain the means of paying for it.

Yet it had been never enough, and the relief it had provided became fleeting. By the time I had reached the Imperial City, I was drinking wine and ale along with the skooma. My stay in the City had been blurred with impressions of being rolled, pushed, and kicked. Seeking shelter in taverns had only caused more trouble. Probably how I ended up in the Prison. It bothered me that I couldn't quite remember what had happened to put me there.

Oddly, with the headaches gone, I could bear the pain from my old wounds more easily. The limbo of skooma and drink no longer held any appeal for me. Wondering if the cravings would recur once the smith's hammer returned, I sighed to myself. Only one way to find out.

But now I had a purpose, a mission, and I intended to complete it. Did the Emperor know how low I had gone, when he spoke to me back in that cell, spoke to me like I was a person again? Did he know I needed saving? So maybe there is purpose for someone like me outside the Legion.

I've said it before and I'll say it again...you are getting better as you go along. Anyone reading this would scratch their head and say 'the writer who wrote chapter 1 also wrote this???'

This chapter was simply beautiful. You continue to add layers to Julian's character. Her reaction to throwing the flare spell was just perfect. I think that many of us on this board, myself most of all, tend to take an almost cavalier attitude toward killing our enemies. Your story shows us that even the life of a dog has weight.

These paragraphs:


are deceptively simple, yet perfectly executed examples of description and narration. I am absolutely hooked on Julian's story!

It's nice to read about a old veteran with war-wounds rather than a young pup. I really enjoyed it!

Destri said it, the descriptions are so detailed that the reader can visualize - also, you take the time to describe things that normally would not stand out, like the hair washing - and that really brings the story to life because we know these actions, do them ourselves daily. You have a knack for describing emotions and thoughts as well - Awesome write !!!!

I must wholeheartedly agree with all the above. Wow! We are very lucky to have you writing and posting here. I simply loved every bit of this story. We learned, through your brilliantly delicate manner, much more about Julian. Her actions throughout attest to her character and demons. She is wonderful and fascinating. Yay! Let's hear it for us oldsters - you go girl!

Her first open field fight. Very, very gripping in both actions and emotions. Simply wonderful.

Wow (again). Perfectly 'doled' out characterization, extremely immersive descriptions, great pacing, gripping action, an endearing character.

I'm really hooked now. :dance:

Excellent post! As others have said, you have improved quite a bit in a short space. Your descriptions of using Julian using sand to wash herself, feeling watched from Vilverin, etc... were vivid and engaging. I could feel the grit digging in my skin and the hairs on the back of my neck standing up.

I especially liked how her headache has abated since she met the Emperor. Now she and I both wonder just how deeply he did affect her. Not only has he given her a reason for living, but also apparently has caused a more direct, physical change as well. Ooo! I like it!

I also liked Julian's recollection of falling first into alcohol, then skooma, finally being reduced to a beggar by her addiction. Her not even remembering how she ended up in prison is also an excellent touch. This leaves you free to develop that further at a later date if you wish. Or not at all, and leave it mysterious. Was it pure chance? Or a distinctly draconic hand of fate?

All in all, well done! :celebration:

First, let me say that you handled the tutorial and character introduction brilliantly. Just because something is familiar does not mean that a good writer cannot make it new again. And that is just what you do. As I have much catching up to do, I will simply record my impressions as they come to me, even though later events may reveal different truths.



Wow.

From 1.1b:

"..kneeling to bring my eyes level with mine"

Should be "?to bring her eyes?."

"?I felt the pain in my thigh disappeared."

"disappear", I believe.

The memory of learning to heal was quite nicely done. So, too, Julian's thoughts about Captain Renault's arms and armor.

1.2

Wonderful details regarding Julian's knowledge of zombies.

The flashback to the goblin lair was powerful and again revealed a lot of history in a short space.

1.3a

"Never apologize. It's a sign of weakness." Seriously, do not worry about "adjusting" or in many cases, "fixing" the in-game dialogue. Although I tend to stay close to in-game conversations (too close, some would say), I admire anyone who creates their own scenes and dialogue to make the story original.

"?"he would never had left Mother and me before you were even born!"

"?would never have?", I think.

"My words soon became intelligible."

Unintelligible? i.e.- unclear, indecipherable?

General comment in re- repetition: Look back to the earliest parts of the story and note how many times you mention that Julian has been out of the Legion for 4 years. Are all of those mentions necessary? Do they add to the atmosphere? Is there some other way to convey how shattering having to leave has been? The following:




Now that is a perfect way to show, rather than tell.

Baurus is "implacable." Fair enough, especially until we are given a name to go with that stern visage. But might he also be "formidable," "stern" (as above), "purposeful," etc.?

Chapter 2.1-

"?as was the aubergine swirling depths" "Depths were"- so, "?as were the?."

Lovely description of Ayleid ruins!

Excellent- and moving- fight scene. We get a nice feel for Julian's humanity, and her strength.



Pitch-perfect.

Through a very few well-chosen words, we are getting a strong sense of who this person is, with enough mystery to keep us interested. There is real talent here, and a compelling story told by a character about whom I already care deeply.

@D. Foxy: I've been thinking what you said about rewriting that first post (1.1a) - I've got a few ideas bouncing around in my head. I'll let you know if and when I do the darn thing!

@Destri: I'm glad you appreciate my writing style. I'd always been sparse in my word choice, but have learned by trial and error (and lots, lots, lots of reading) how to describe things without getting wordy. Now I have to watch that I don't get too wordy! Thanks for your continuing support!

@RemkoNL: Thanks! It's nice to know that us oldsters are appreciated too! Nothing like the voice of experience, huh?

@mALX1: Thanks again for reading this still!

@Acadian: Thanks, your words mean a great deal to me, coming from one who can make a young blonde girl so appealing to me! After the blonde bimbos one comes across all the time in entertainment, it's refreshing to see one like Buffy the Bowgirrrl!

@SubRosa: No nits from you or Acadian? Have I really taken your criticisms to heart? I hope so. I also hope this means that both of you are starting to feel Julian as much as I do. I always enjoy hearing your impressions of Julian's story, it helps me know what I need to keep in terms of technique and story elements.

@treydog: Can I say how happy I am to see your little smilin' face on my thread? Yes, I grew up with a weiner dog, and have many fond memories of the old boy. Reading your post, I can almost see Doxie's teeth showing in that characteristic dachshund grin, his tail wagging the dog quite furiously.

Darn, I thought I had fixed 'intelligible!' Fixed. And fixed. Thanks for all your nits - I have gone back and fixed most of them. I will avoid 'four years' in the future, unless Julian is specifically asked. And Baurus, I really struggled with his descriptions until I got his name!

Thanks for reading my story, and I hope to see you again in the future.

******

Chapter 2.2 The Black Road

The sun stood close to the zenith when I saw the huge ruins of Fort Nikel, at the intersection of the Red Ring and the Black Roads. My fragmented memories reminded me that a bandit camp lay within its shattered walls, guarded by creatures. Limping onto the Black Road, I moved to the far side of the cobblestones, keeping an eye on the fort to my left. The last time I had been this way -

The large wolf bounded out of the ruined Keep, saliva flying from his snarling mouth as he charged me. I managed to throw up my left arm, forgetting that I had no shield. He sank his teeth into my forearm, the momentum of his attack sending both of us tumbling in the dirt outside the Keep entrance. Screaming in pain, I fisted my right hand and pounded on the wolf's broad skull, hurting only my own hand in result.

Hoofbeats pounded the road behind me, then a shout as clattering armor ran up. A silver blade flashed in the moonlight, slicing through the wolf's body and flinging it off me. I rolled away from the Legion rider, hunched over my bleeding arm. I heard a yelp as another wolf charged the horseman, and was quickly dispatched by his lethal sword. He turned from scanning the area, sheathing his weapon. Walking to me, he picked up his torch where he had dropped it beside his waiting steed.

"Are you all right, traveler?" he asked, his voice level and professional. Suddenly ashamed to be caught groveling in the dirt, I struggled unsteadily to my feet, the torchlight causing the smith's hammer to pound faster in my head. I couldn't hear what I said in response, and missed some of his words: "? head down to Weye, it's only half an hour's walk from here. You can find shelter at the Inn there, and rest and heal from that bite."

I mumbled something, and he leaned towards me, not understanding my words. Gods! I didn't understand my own words, and knew I was slurring badly, between the wine I had drunk and the skooma withdrawal that was already starting. I could see the distaste in his eyes as he drew back from the stench on my breath, my tattered clothes. He remained professional, though. "Come on, traveler, I'll escort you there. Can you walk?"

"Y- yessir," I managed to stammer somewhat coherently. Following him to his patient bay, I waited while he mounted. Keeping my eyes on the ground at my feet, I avoided looking at that bright torch. He started his bay off at a slow amble, slow enough for me to keep up with him, limping as badly as I was. Stumbling on the rough cobblestones, I fell a couple of times, but managed to regain my feet before the rider could dismount to help me.

After what seemed like an eternity, we reached the lamplit door to Wawnet Inn. The rider stopped and regarded me thoughtfully, tilting his torch to see my face better. "Here you are, traveler," he said quietly. "Be safe, and stay out of trouble."

Shaking myself out of my reverie, I passed Fort Nikel without incident. Looking up the slope, where the Black Road rose higher into the western highlands, I wondered, Will I run into that rider? Will he recognize me? Our last encounter still made my face hot with shame.

Falling into the half-remembered rhythm of the long march as best as my limp would allow, I started up the slope, my gaze on the surrounding land. I had never made it past Fort Nikel, and knew little about the road ahead, only that it led to Chorrol.

Ahead, where the road started to switchback up the steep bluff, I caught the flash of sun on metal. Shouting and clanging reached me as I increased my pace. Rounding a boulder, I saw a Legion rider battling a burly Khajiit. Clad in fur armor, the bandit did not stand much chance against the heavily armored horseman, but was very agile and managed to keep just beyond the reach of the other's silver blade. He would step in and land blows with his mace before the rider could recover from his thrusts. Ignoring the pain in my knee, I ran, shouting at the Khajitt to distract him. He saw me coming, roared in anger, and clouted the horseman with a hard blow to the shoulder. Turning, he charged me, lifting his mace to strike at my head.

Raising my shield, I managed to deflect the blow, but the force of the impact drove me to my bad knee. Ouch! I winced at the pain shooting up my thigh. Lifting my shield above my head, I swung the sword beneath it at the Khajiit's exposed knee before losing my balance and falling to my right side.

The bandit staggered from the injury I had dealt him, just as the rider came up behind him and ran his blade into the cat-man's back, ending the fight. As the bandit dropped onto my shield, trapping my left arm, I met the horseman's eyes and recognized the steely gaze in dismay.

Managing to get my good leg underneath the corpse, I kicked the dead bandit off. He rolled a short ways down the slope, and came to rest against the nearby boulder. Slipping the shield up my forearm, I sat up, sheathing my sword with some difficulty. The rider's gauntleted hand came down to me in an offer of assistance. He pulled me easily to my feet when I grasped his wrist in acceptance. Panting, we looked at each other silently for a few moments. Stepping back a pace, the horseman sheathed his sword and brushed his briastplate with his knuckles in a half-salute.

"You seem much better than the last time I saw you, traveler," he said quietly, glancing me up and down in assessment. His gaze lingered on the battered shield and iron longsword. "Better equipped, at least," he said, studying my face.

"I am much better, sir, though not as well as I would like," Gasping as much from pain as from exertion, I forced myself to take a deep breath against the pounding of my heart.

"I had heard you got yourself arrested," the rider continued, his gaze still hard on me.

"Yes, sir, I did," I felt the blood rising in my cheeks from embarrassment. "I don't quite remember why, sir, but I'm certain it was for something stupid that I did." Shifting the weapons on my back, I settled them into a more comfortable position. "I don't intend to do it again, sir, whatever it was."

"From what Laterensis Maro told me, it was a brawl between you and a mercenary Dunmer." The horseman's grim mouth quirked suddenly into a lopsided smile. "The other resisted arrest, so Maro had to kill him. He spared you because you surrendered to him." His blue eyes sharpened at me. "That was actually smart of you. Maro has no patience with drunks and addicts." His smile faded into sternness. "No offense intended, ma'am."

"None taken, sir," I shrugged. "I guess I was in the Prison long enough to sober up." Looking down at the dead Khajiit, I knelt stiffly beside him. "Not my proudest moment, sir."

"Looks to me like you know how to wield a sword, ma'am," the rider commented as I searched the bandit for anything I could use. Finding five septims and two lockpicks, I looked up at the horseman.

"Legion service, twenty-five years, sir," looking away as I struggled to my feet, I could hear the bitterness I still felt in my voice. He refused the septims I offered him, waving for me to keep them. "Got kicked out for being too old, too broken down, and too sick to continue fighting." That still smarts.

"And still battling those injuries, I see," was the rider's only comment. He returned to his bay, standing several paces away. Reaching up to the saddle, he looked back at me. "My name is Antonius Fulvius," he offered, mounting the horse with a clanking of his plate armor.

"Julian, from Anvil," I responded.

Fulvius touched his knuckles to his briastplate. "Thanks for your help, Julian." He lifted his gaze to the tall spire of White Gold Tower, visible even at this distance from the Imperial City. "These are unsettling times," his face turned grim again beneath the steel helm. "With the Emperor assassinated, and the Dragonfires cold." He looked down at me as I limped towards him. "You will need to be careful traveling these roads." His voice trailed off, and his gaze lost its assured confidence. "I don't know what will happen. We've never been without an Emperor," he added softly.

"I know," I heard my voice echo his sadness, remembering how the Emperor had treated me so kindly.

Awesome! The first paragraph has "fragmented" twice in one sentence - not sure if that was intentional to emphasize though. The interaction with Fulvius - he being the arresting officer and remembering Julian - that was huge!

:read: This was great! I loved reading every bit of this. Julian is certainly battling some phycical frailties that make survival a challenge for her. Gosh those heavy armor Legion types are handy to have around, aren't they?



She knows Cyrodiil! What a neat idea that makes perfect sense. As an old Legion member, she would certainly be familiar with much of the area. Unlike so many characters that discover as they go, in some cases it seems it may be returning to somewhat familiar ground for Julian.



Does this seem awkward, as if it is too much for one sentence? Or is it just me again?



I was jarred just a bit by the scene change here. One moment she was at the Wawnet (not Wawret) Inn, where I thought she might rest and heal. The next moment, she was passing Fort Nikel. I had to reread it to realize that you intended a pretty big scene change. I think what would have fixed it for me is to clarify the scene change with some sort of a break *** , or perhaps starting the second portion of this passage off with something like: "Three days later, I was passing Fort Nikel...." What do you think?



Ahah, another piece of our lady's puzzle! You could not have picked a lovlier city.

Well done! I am so enjoying Julian's story!

The Mood...ah, the mood. Reflective, yet powerful enough in the action scenes...yes. Definitely a flavour worth savouring.

*inhales deeply*

Ahhhhh!!! More!! More!!!

Another enjoyable chapter!

I agree with mALX that the repetition of the word 'fragmented' is a little jarring.


This is a small nitpick and purely a matter of style, but with the repetition of the word 'on' I was wondering if the word 'to' might work better.

I must emphasize that this is purely personal opinion, but Julian's meeting with Fulvius so soon after she was remembering their last encounter was a little too much of a coincidence for me. Perhaps if their second encounter prompted her memory of the first?

Overall I love the humility that Julian shows in the face of her former comrades. It is so in step with this whole self-loathing thing that she has going.

Another excellent installment. Again we learn bits and pieces more about Julian's past. She is from Anvil (from a sailing family perhaps), and that she was in the Legion for 25 years. Keep it coming!


Some nits:

I am not sure if you intended for all of this to be italicized. It seems like you are mainly using italics to convey Julian's thoughts. Is this a flashback? It did not seem like one.:


So, did she enjoy her stay at the Wawnet? I hear the high elf who runs the place is a real entertainer...


I do not believe Prison should be capitalized here, as it seems more of a generalization in this statement than a proper noun. Or perhaps she should say Imperial Prison?

It seems like I didn't make the transition in the flashback scene clear enough, so I have gone back and fixed it. I'm going to have to watch those darned transitions! :toughninja:

@SubRosa: Darn! the font in the game made it confusing for me to tell if it was "Wawret" or "Wawnet!" I have fixed it, not only in this post, but also throughout the entire story I have written so far . . . Thank Akatosh for that seek and find feature! :facepalm:

@Acadian: Fulvius is not Julian's arresting officer, it is Laterensis Maro. Fulvius just saved a very drunken Julian from a couple of wolves, and took her to shelter (or so he thought . . .):shrug:

More will be revealed as the story goes on.

I have some work to do, then I will be back tonight to post the next chapter once I finish putting the polish on it.

Thanks, everyone, for all your input! It has been very helpful having other eyes on my writing! :ninja:

An excellent update, full of atmosphere and personality. You do a wonderful job of "showing" with the flashback and the conversation with Fulvius.

My only "grammar-cop" moment is purely a matter of opinion:



As it is clear who struck whom from the context, you can probably delete "other's" here.



And I will be sure to czech back then.


Sorry, sorry. I have been wrestling with recalcitrant SP3 installs for the last 2 days, and have become pun-chy. (Rather like tai chi, but verbal instead of physical).

@mALX1: Good catch on the two timing "fragmented!" Fixed! Thanks!

@Acadian: The first time Julian and I saw Anvil, it just felt like home. That's when I knew she had grown up near the city.

@D. Foxy: I'm glad you enjoyed the mood!

@Destri Melarg: The flashback was supposed to be inspired by the sight of Fort Nikel, a reminder of what had happened the last time she had passed that way, or tried to. That in turn led to her thought of the rider, and when he appeared further up the hill, hoping that it wasn't the same one!

@SubRosa: the Prison is Julian's mental shorthand for the Imperial Prison - any other prison would not be capitalized in her mind.

@treydog: Thanks for the puns. I enjoy puns, bad jokes, and innuendos (D. Foxy's kind), so it doesn't bother me that you are czeching back in later. It made me smile!


Chapter 2.3 Weynon Priory

The sun was low in my eyes when I reached a small lane leading north from the Black Road. It ended at a small cluster of stone buildings, including a small chapel. Its spire had been visible through the entwining branches of the immense oaks and beeches for about an hour.

Regarding it silently, I paused at the edge of the Black Road, thinking about this Jauffre. The Grandmaster of the Blades. What would he be like? How would he receive me? For several moments, I studied the place, finding it peaceful and quiet. A couple of horned rams grazed in a small sheepfold to the left. The lane passed their pen, and ended in a circle in front of the central stone structure. Another path led up the hill to the right towards the chapel, while a third walkway ran through the porte-cochere toward the rear of the central building.

As I watched, a lean, grey-haired Dunmer stepped out of the deepening shadows within the porte-cochere and paused. Shading his eyes with his hand, his face turned in my direction. Get this over with. Adjusting the weapons at my back, I limped toward him, noting his stained linen clothing, the well-worn leather apron.

"Good afternoon, stranger," he greeted me, lowering his hand. "How can I help you this fine day?"

"Hello, ser," I used the Dunmer honorific. "I'm looking for Weynon Priory."

"You've found it, muthsera," the older man returned the courtesy. "I'm Eronor, I do odd jobs for the Brothers, and take care of their sheep and horses. Is there anything in particular you're looking for?"

"I'm looking for Grandmaster Jauffre, ser," I almost missed the puzzled look on Eronor's face.

"Grandmaster?" he repeated. Then his eyes lit up. "Oh, you mean Brother Jauffre!" Now it was my turn to be perplexed. "He's in the Priory, with his books, most likely," he pointed me to the front door of the central building.

Brother? I turned from the Dunmer in confusion. What happened to Grandmaster Jauffre? Are there two Jauffres? Reaching the front door, I glanced back at Eronor, who waved me to go on in with a smile.

Inside, the warm interior was welcoming after the cool air of the highlands. Waiting for my eyes to adjust, I looked around. Two tonsured men at a round table, one laying plates, the other setting out food, paused to look at me. The older man, in black robes, regarded me silently with a haughty air. The brown-robed younger monk set the dishes down and walked to me, his boyish face curious and welcoming.

"I am Brother Piner," he introduced himself. "How may I help you, ma'am?"

"I - I'm not sure, Brother," I stammered. "I was told to come to Weynon Priory to speak with Grandmaster Jauffre, but there's a Brother Jauffre -"

"Ah, yes, Brother Jauffre is upstairs," Piner assured me with a smile. He looked me up and down, and an uncertain expression came over his face, reflecting my own confusion.

"I'm sorry, Brother," I looked away. How do I seem to him? Old, sick, barely able to wield the weapons I carry? "I'm looking for the Grandmaster of the Blades. I must have come to the wrong place."

"By the Nine, no!" Piner shook his head emphatically. The older monk shot him a reproving glance, which he missed. "We are all brothers serving Talos," he explained. "Some of us are monks living a quiet life of contemplation and service here, others serve in the Blades." He waved me towards a weapon rack near the door. "There, put your bow and quiver aside, and your pack. You can keep your sword, if you like."

It was then I noticed the slim katana that depended from the cord belting Piner's homespun robe. Shrugging off my quiver and bow, I set them in the weapon rack. Setting the pack on the floor and leaning the battered leather shield on it, I glanced again at the katana, feeling a little envious. "I didn't know monks carried swords, Brother," I straightened my back against the wound in my side, relieved of my burden.

"This?" Piner looked down at the hilt of the fine sword with some pride. "This is from my days as a Blade," he smiled at me. "Shall I take you to Brother Jauffre?"

"I - I suppose so," I said, still uncertain who was whom. "Thank you, Brother."

"Come with me, then, ma'am," Piner turned and led me past the dining room to the staircase at the rear of the building. "May I ask your name?" he turned as we started up the stairs, looking back at me over his shoulder.

"I'm Julian, from Anvil," Finding the stairs difficult for my knee after walking all day, I glanced up contritely at Piner. "I'm sorry to slow you down, Brother."

"No," Piner paused on the landing, where the stairs split into two, each flight leading to opposite sides of the building. "I should apologize for walking so fast." He pointed at my bad leg. "Recently injured?"

Shaking my head, I reached the landing. Piner regarded my face. "I can get you a healing potion," he volunteered.

"Thanks, but I'm practicing my healing spell," I answered. It was true - as I had walked from the Imperial City, I had been casting the healing spell whenever my magicka replenished itself. As Piner watched, I created it yet again. The pain in my knee eased to a dull throbbing. Nodding at Piner, I motioned for him to continue. He led me to the right side, to a stairhall.

Piner walked to a door that led toward the front of the building. He knocked firmly, and opened the door at a voice from within. "Brother Jauffre, Julian from Anvil to see you, sir." He smiled at me as I stepped through, then closed the panel softly behind me.

Bookshelves lined the large room, with copying desks along one wall. At the opposite end, large, leaded glass windows let in the last of the dying light, limning a large desk and the balding figure of a monk hunched over a book, forehead propped on one fist. His silhouette shifted as he looked up at me.

"Well, Julian from Anvil, don't stand there in the shadows." His voice was clipped, with a trace of a familiar accent. High Rock. Beautiful country, except for the Wrothgarians. "How is it you come seeking me?"

Limping towards him, I saw his face more clearly once I drew near. He had the weathered look of a man who spent much of his life outdoors, the straight bearing of a soldier, and the grey hair that comes with age, or stress. "I'm looking for Grandmaster Jauffre," I began.

"Grandmaster?" he repeated softly. "I haven't been called that in years. What brings you here?"

I felt a little relief. "Then you're not Brother Jauffre, but Grandmaster?"

"Oh, I'm Brother Jauffre now," he motioned impatiently with his hand. "But yes, I'm the Grandmaster. Something I'd like to keep quiet in these parts."

"Forgive me, Grandmaster," I reached into my cuirass and pulled out the Amulet, still wrapped in its woolen pouch. Lifting the cord over my head, I met his gaze. "I had to make sure I had found the right person for this," I placed it on the desk. The monk regarded the lump silently. "The Emperor told me to give this to Grandmaster Jauffre."

Jauffre's head shot up at me. "The Emperor?" he repeated. "Before he died?"

Grief surged in my throat, forcing me to breathe slowly, fighting for composure suitable for the moment. "I was with him when he - died." Telling Jauffre what Uriel Septim had told me about the threat to Tamriel took all of my self-control.

Jauffre listened silently, then reached for the wrapped object. He slowly untied the wool, gasped when he saw the jewel within. "The Amulet?" he exclaimed. "The Emperor gave you the Amulet of Kings before he died?" His gaze, intensely blue in the dim light, pinned me to the spot. "Explain this, Julian," his tone became chill.

Taken aback by his abrupt tone, I shifted my weight uneasily, trying to ease my bad knee without being obvious. "The Emperor knew he was going to die," I picked my words carefully. "He gave me the Amulet, told me not to let the - the Prince of Darkness get it. There is one last son still living, and he said you would know what to do with this." Closing my eyes against the tears, I stopped speaking.

"You saw his assassination," Jauffre's voice softened a little. "That is not easy for you, I see." He wrapped the Amulet very carefully in the wool, placing it in the center of the desk. "Sit," it was an order. "You don't look very well, Julian from Anvil."

Looking around, I saw the chair Jauffre indicated, to my left. His gaze turned assessing as I limped to it, swung my sheathed sword free of the seat and sat down stiffly. "The Emperor," he continued, "has been a very good judge of character, for the most part." He looked down at the red bundle in front of him. "If he trusted you with this and with his secret, then so must I."

Once again, I loved it. The familiar, viewed through Julian's eyes, with her perceptions and your gift for rich description. Wonderful!

I can't wait to see Julian's reaction, IF Jaufre tells her to limp her butt to Kvatch and fetch the son. He told Buffy to do that and got told to do it himself. He told Teresa, much more wisely, 'thanks - we'll take it from here'. I can't wait to see how this goes with Julian. Whether you have decided upon one of these options or another though, I know it will be the right one for Julian. I mean, Julian from Anvil.




Ooh. Now I am wondering if Julian picked up on the accent because of her many years of Tamriel-wide service with the Legion, or perhaps because she has a personal history with High Rock.

Yes, I am really enjoying both Julian and her story!

First let me say that your talent for creating an atmosphere and placing a living breathing character into that atmosphere is pure magic.

There is one thing that I found off-putting and it has recurred enough to make me want to bring it up. Julian seems to be psychic. She picked up Renaults sword, not because she needed something to fight with but because she expected to return it to the Blades. In another passage, she anticipates rejoining the Emperor's party even though there was nothing at that point to indicate that she would. May I suggest that you reinvest in the unknowns. This is the thing that makes a first time experience unique and not just another run-through.

Again let me emphasize how skilled you are at painting a verbal picture and I look forward to more.

"Oh, no!" Piner shook his head emphatically

"Oh!" Piner looked down at the hilt of the fine sword with some pride

Is it just me, or is there something a little....er...effeminate about that use of 'oh!' with an exclamation mark? My subconcious testosterone alarm went off. Nearly all males, and warrior males I know, would say something a bit more emphatic.

But then perhaps being a monk as well as a warrior will do that to you...

Wow, you really set the mood on this one! Riveting !!!!