A.D.W.D. Chapter 14: Divine Intervention

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    Trebonde lay on his back, gnawing on a shoot of grass as he watched the clouds lazily pass by the sun, but the break was far from peaceful. The villagers sat or paced uneasily in the center of town as Tyranus called them one by one to the table he’d commandeered on Ainethach’s porch. That dampened the mood and Solena had been avoiding him since morning, but the damn incessant rustling next to him was the worst!

     

    “Can you stop moving for just one second!”

     

     Amari stopped fidgeting for exactly one second. “I hate waiting! We’re just sitting here doing nothing.”

     

    “So do something, somewhere far from my hearing,” Trebonde said rolling over such that his words were muffled in the grass.

     

    Amari started pacing back and forth and checked on Scuttles. He was still underwater, but had moved on from fish watching to stalking a mudcrab, which was about as exciting as it sounded. No help there, then she stopped suddenly and turned to Trebonde.

     

    “Teach me how to sword fight.”

     

    He rolled to his back again. “Why’d you want to do that?”

     

    She put her hands on hips and looked down at him in response.

     

    “Right, dumb question. Ask reeeally nice like and I might consider it.”

     

    She sighed. “Oh great master of the sword won’t you pretty please with a reef of snowberries and three honey nuts on top bestow your esteemed knowledge and skill upon this poor meek soul.”

     

    The esteemed master rolled backwards and kicked into a kip up, landing on his feet.

     

    “Well, I can’t say no to three honey nuts. Go find some sword sized sticks.”

     

    ***

     

    “The angles of attack again, one... good, two… hmm, three… relax your arm, you’re too tense. Angle three again.”

     

    Amari was panting, but fiercely concentrated on trying to force her arm to relax. Trebonde laughed at her.

     

    “Giving yourself constipation isn’t going to help. You have to relax your mind first, then move like flowing water, tensing your muscles only as they are needed. Each strike should flow from your feet to the tip of your sword like a whip.”

     

    “I’m not constipated,” Amari mumbled.

     

    This sounded more like spell casting than she expected. You had to still your mind to cast spells and teachers often used water, or burning oil, to describe how to manipulate magicka. She used the familiar casting mantras to still her mind, then struck again.

     

    Trebonde blocked and the stick went flying out of Amari’s left hand.

     

    “Much better, but you have to remember to actually hold onto the sword.” 

     

    Amari scrambled to fetch her stick from where they had moved a short ways down the road at Karthwasten’s entrance to train. Somewhere that was away from the totem’s ruins and the sulking crowd.

     

    “How am I supposed to stay relaxed AND keep a tight grip?”

     

    “Easy, only tense the fingers gripping the handle.”

     

    “’Easy, only...’” Amari mimicked. “Hey Trebonde, two people are approaching.”

     

    He rushed forward and peered down the road holding his stick as if it were a real sword. Amari whacked him on the head.

     

    “Got you!”

     

    “Ow, you cheat!”

     

    She hopped out of his range of his counter.

     

    “I know.”

     

    He chuckled. “Well played, but you’re going down now!”

     

    ***

     

    The two travelers approached Karthwasten and watched as a teenaged girl and a one handed man chased and sparred each other like children for a moment before one, a priestess, impatiently cleared her throat with her arms crossed and hips cocked. The combatants skidded to a halt and Trebonde quickly fixed his hair after seeing the woman.

     

     The priestess smirked; she hated traveling, it was so dirty, sweat was ruining her complexion and smearing her makeup, and her feet were sore, but it seemed she still had an effect on these country bumpkins. ‘It will build much needed character,’ She remembered Matron Hamal chiding her at her send-off.

     

    She cleared her throat again. “I’m looking for someone, a girl.”

     

    “Well, aren’t we all?” Trebonde responded as his gaze followed her curves; respectfully of course.

     

    Her gaze similarly followed his form, but stopped at the stump of his hand. “I doubt you could, ah, handle the demands of service to the Goddess.”

     

    “I wouldn’t need any hands.”

     

    She arched an eyebrow at him, but there was still business to handle. “Really now? But I must find this girl; we have been searching some time for her now.”

     

    “Which girl, why?” The playful atmosphere turned to ice as the one handed man spoke and tightened his grip on the stick. Did he really think he could take on her companion with only a stick? She had hired the burly Nord from the Silver-Bloods to escort her, but the look in the Imperial’s eyes made her wonder if Yngvar would be enough. The girl had the same look, but this priestess wouldn’t let them intimidate her, she was tired and stank, she wanted to go back to the temple.

     

    “Fjorta. Now lead me to her; this is a matter of great importance.”

     

    The duo relaxed some, but still blocked her way. “Sorry; no one by that name here. What did you want with her?”

     

    Yngvar stepped forward and reached behind him to pop a snap holding his battle axe. “Stand aside, I’ll clear this rabble.”

     

    Jolene stopped her muscle with a hand. “I’m sure this is just a misunderstanding. They’re clearly trying to protect the girl.”

     

    “From a priestess?” questioned the muscle.

     

    “Demons have been known to take on such guises before,” Trebonde countered.

     

    The priestess looked through her eye lashes at him, hoping he didn’t notice her running mascara was clumping her eyelashes together, “You think I’m a demon?”

     

    He didn’t notice, at all, “Know so now,” he responded in kind.

     

    “And I know Fjorta lives here, for the Goddess revealed her as the next Sybil.”

     

    “A Sybil!?” Trebonde and Amari were shocked at the news. Sybils were said to be prophets with a direct link to the Divines. Trebonde stroked his chin, deep in thought. “Fjorta, Fjorta, Ah! That’s right Enmon and Mena’s daughter. I fear you are too late though, she’s probably dead.”

     

    “What!? That’s impossible!”

     

    “Well, her mother is mourning right now and her father is acting a real ass.”

     

    “I must speak with them.”

     

    “Alright.” Trebonde started leading them to the village. “But I’ll warn you, they’re having an intervention of sorts.”

     

    “Intervention? Good luck getting Nords to give up their fire water, though I know the women would appreciate a cutback. No one likes a man pushing rope.”

     

    Amari didn’t get it and Yngvar grunted unamused, but Trebonde split his sides laughing.

     

    “Now yours is a faith I could get behind! So refreshing after all his…” he pointed behind him to where Tyranus was continuing his interrogations. “…smiting and sacredness, but no: it’s not that type of intervention.”

     

    The priestess arched an eyebrow. “Behind me: how exactly are you planning to pay service?

     

    “Rope.”

     

    She smiled, but too anxious about the Sybil to continue the jests. “Why is the Vigil of Stendarr here?”

     

    “Oh, he was just passing through, but we uncovered a Deadric totem being used for human sacrifice, so now he’s grilling all the villagers.” Trebonde casually explained. Jolene paled and gripped onto Yngvar’s arm and he in turn doubled the manliness of his stride.

     

    “So, who are you?” Amari asked Yngvar.

     

    “A bard,” he spoke in a rough, completely unmusical voice and then pointed to his axe, “and this is my lute.” 

     

    ***

     

    Tyranus stopped in the middle of calling the next villager up as Trebonde and Amari led two more guests to the gathering.

     

    “Sister!” he called out in with a large grin spreading across his face. The crowd parted as he strode through and embraced her in hug, “What fates deemed to grace us with one of Dibella’s beauties?”

     

     “Please; I’m filthy.”

     

    “Adds to the appeal,” Trebonde interjected. Tyranus, Jolene, Yngvar, and Amari all glared at him.

     

    The priestess looked to Tyranus and spoke as if she feared the answer, “This… totem I heard of, did, did they sacrifice a girl? She would be about nine, a Breton.”

     

    Tyranus was puzzled. “No, it was an adult Bosmer male. Who is this girl you seek?”

     

    Jolene started to sigh in relief, but caught herself and murmured a prayer instead to the fallen. “Fjorta, she has been chosen as the new Sybil of Dibella.”

     

    The sob of a fresh wound torn open escaped from the mother. The father, Enmom, yelled at the new comers, “Can’t you outsiders leave us alone?! We don’t need your kind here! First your guards refuse to help us, then you steal from us and tear our town apart, and now you rub salt in our wounds!”

     

    Tyranus spun on his heel towards the man. “What is this? Why is this the first I’ve heard of a missing child? Where is she?”

     

    Tellevi came up and put a hand on the vigilant’s shoulder. “Easy now! You were in no condition to fight last night. We planned on asking you in the morning, before you know…the totem.”

     

    Tyranus closed his eyes and let out a long breath, then continued softly, “True, I apologize. Where is she now? How long has she been gone?”

     

     “The Forsworn raided us three days ago and took her. They headed to the east, across the bridge.”

     

    “Broken Tower Redoubt,” Tyranus’s grin had a savage glint to it. He would save the child and he would face the Briarheart again. Viana would be avenged; Markarth would have to wait a little longer. Was this the sign he’d prayed for? Were the Divines showing him the path he needed to take?

     

    “So they knew the Sybil was here. They must have major ritual planned, in which case they’ll wait until a full moon, when ambient magicka is at its peak.”

     

    Jolene nodded in agreement. “Masser will be full tonight.”

     

    “Anyone else notice far too many coincidences here?” Trebonde interrupted. “Everyone converging here now, right before the ritual?”

     

    Tyranus nodded sagely. “The Divines work in mysterious ways.”

     

    Trebonde rolled his eyes. “…and fate hath guided this union upon thee holy path.”

     

    Both priests bowed their heads, completely missing Trebonde’s sarcasm. “Blessed we are.”

     

    Tyranus straightened up. “This matter takes precedence. I must prepare immediately; I will not be caught off guard this time.”

     

    A collective sigh of relief was released from the village. They were spared the Vigil of Stendarr’s wrath, for the moment at least. 

     

    “You’re going alone?” Jolene asked.

     

    “No; I’m going.” Amari had been quietly stewing while the others spoke, but she raised her voice now.

     

    Everyone looked at her in surprise. She had just escaped a band of ruthless bandits, she wasn’t about to let another girl go through that, or worse, she thought remembering the darkness she felt within the Briarheart.

     

    “Not a chance: it’s too dangerous!” Tyranus and Trebonde chorused.

     

    “So? I can help. I can keep lookout, fight if need be, and patch you up afterwards. Besides: either I leave with you or follow after.” She crossed her arms and planted her feet defiantly.

     

    “Well, maybe…” Trebonde said, after pondering a moment. Amari jumped up and down in excitement and Tyranus turned an icy glower towards him. Trebonde knew the value of lookouts and if she stayed back she’d be able to escape easily. While he didn’t want to spend more time with one of the self-righteous do-gooders responsible for the Thieves’ Guild black-marking him, opportunity followed chaos and as long as Amari was tied to him, there would be no lack of that he was realizing. For instance, the Temple of Dibella was the richest order in all of Skyrim and gaining their favor with this quest could give them an in to discovering the mystery of their Inner Sanctum.

     

     “Fine, but as lookout only. We leave at dusk.” Tyranus conceded. He really should have left out the part in his story that Viana hadn’t been invited to the raid. Although - truth be told - he was pleased with the turn of events. Facing the darkness was a pivotal point for border cases and she had jumped at the opportunity, not to mention that while he found Trebonde’s character loathsome, he couldn’t fault the man’s skill with a blade.

     

    The Sybil’s mother, Mena, stepped forward. “Please bring her back; we had lost all but hope. We just want her safe.”

     

    Tyranus thumped a fist to his chest. “You have my word and my honor that I will lay my life down to protect your daughter.”

     

    Trebonde stepped stoically next to the priest and repeated the gesture with his voice deepened to mimic Tyranus, “On my honor.”

     

    “And mine,” mirrored Amari.

     

    Jolene shook her head; the gods truly must have a twisted sense of humor to pair these three together, “Your daughter will be protected and held in the highest regard at the temple. She will want for nothing and neither shall you.”

     

    “Thank you,” Mena said; her voice barely a whisper.

     

    Jolene cleared her throat uncomfortably; it was usually Orela that handled the sentimental stuff. “Well, I must leave now, or I won’t make it back before dark. We will pray at the temple for a safe quest.”

     

    “You won’t wait for her here? You must be tired, thirsty. You can rest on my bed, just cleaned,” a miner spoke up hopefully from the crowd. A woman - his wife, presumably - shot an angry elbow in his ribs. Jolene looked at the simple wood houses and thatch roofs coated in ore dust: sure they were clean. She didn’t even want to think about how many mice must live in that thatch. She needed a nice, hot, steam heated bath.

     

     “No, um, we must prepare for the Sybil. Come Yngvar, daylight’s burning.” She glanced back at the trio of her champions. “Stendarr guide you.”

     

     

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Comments

8 Comments   |   Felkros and 1 other like this.
  • Exuro
    Exuro   ·  May 1, 2016
    'SO beyond'? Definitely not trying to cover for anything there!
    Thanks, it's fun making the characters push each others buttons.
    Jolene is actually a NPC from the the Interesting NPCs mod, but yes! You'll never be free from Dolly!
  • Idesto
    Idesto   ·  May 1, 2016
    Dolly. But you knew that right?
  • Idesto
    Idesto   ·  May 1, 2016
    I get the rope joke now. Obviously, just SO beyond my own experience it just didn't register 1st time around!
    Anyway....another grat chapter, love the contrast between the chancer and the zealot. Trebonde and a priestess? Get in! Love Amari's stropp...  more
  • Exuro
    Exuro   ·  December 11, 2015
    Made a few grammar type changes. Nothing story altering.
  • Exuro
    Exuro   ·  November 28, 2015
    243... I still have a lot of reading to do (that's a good thing). Glad you liked it.
  • Sotek
    Sotek   ·  November 28, 2015
    Great interaction during the training session. I can picture Amari screwing her nose up at him.
    “How am I supposed to stay relaxed AND keep a tight grip?”
    Laughed at this. Reminds me of a part of my story. Ch 243.
  • Exuro
    Exuro   ·  November 27, 2015
    He's. .. practical, lol.
    Sex jokes always lighten the mood
    Poor Tyranus, he does have a stick up the rear doesn't he, lol. Complete opposite of Trebonde.

    Next chapter is the 1st time they go on the offense, I've been waiting awhil...  more
  • The Long-Chapper
    The Long-Chapper   ·  November 27, 2015
    I love Trebonde's motivation for all of this. 
    All about rope. 
    And Tyranus is soooooo serious. This should be a fun little diversion from the inevitable.