"Yes, of course," Henantier said. He stepped closer to her, but with his head still turned so not to see her. Reaching out with one hand, he nearly punched her in the face by accident.

Groping for something on her bare chest with his eyes averted is a recipe for disaster! Henantier really demonstrates the kind of distracted genius that could lead him to trap himself in his own dreamworld.


"Besides, they're not that heavy…"

Teresa is joking around!! Woo hoo! That got more than a faint smile out of me. I find myself looking forward to dinner.

Specifically, would that be the gong? I'd imagine with a warhammer, you only need one or two hits, and at a minimum the 'target audience' would have a huge ringing in their ears.

I'm glad Ancondil seems to be taking the rejection rather well. Still, he can't seem to avoid inserting his foot into his own mouth, but experience has taught me that is rather the rule than the exception for my half of the world's population...

Well other people have got to the funny line before me, but it was a very good one. The exchange between Teresa and Ancondil was excellent, there was a bit of humour on both sides and clearly no resentment, and Teresa's teasing certainly shows a new confidence of a completely different sort from joining the Fighters Guild. I look forward to her meeting the rest of them.

Henantier continued to be entertaining, very much the absorbed and slightly distanced academic...

A nit?
on the daub and wattle walls - it might have been deliberate or just be an accent thing but 'wattle and daub' feels a lot more normal, especially when used as a modifier.

I'd think daub and wattle was deliberate, as the passage is about the plain decor, making the daub the more important (you can't see the wattle if they daubed right). Wattle and daub is basically chronological order of construction, so it's like post and beam in becoming the conventional order.

My lesser nit is that Henantier, despite his obvious embarassment, reaches for the amulet and risks making it even worse, rather than asking Teresa to put it in his hand. OK, so he's flustered, but...

Not that one, not that one, that one.

This post has been edited by ghastley: Feb 12 2011, 01:36 AM

Poor Henantier! You can't blame him, though!



BAHAHA!!!

That was hilarious! Maybe red headed women aren't just short tempered, but incredibly naughty as well

Take it from me - right on both counts!

naughty red rider: Indeed, you hit the nail on the head about Teresa's growing self-confidence. Expect to slowly see more of that in the future.


Thomas Kaira: Unlike my writing , I don't want realism in my games. I want to have fun instead. That is why I take a break from reality in the first place!

Poor Henantier, what is a geek to do when faced with a nekkid woman? Even one as stringy as Teresa!


Acadian: Ancondil is always fun to write, thanks to his stereotype-breaking behaviour, and his good nature.


Grits: Groping someone's bare chest is not a good idea? Sadly, Henantier does not have much experience in that!


Captain Hammer: If they are wearing a helmet, then Ancondil is indeed playing a gong! Thankfully for Teresa, he is not the sort to hold a grudge. Else she might find herself becoming a musical instrument!


Olen: Your comment on the wattle and daub got me thinking, and I went back and took it out completely and replaced it with just plain plaster, as I recalled from several chapters earlier I described the building as being stone and wood.


ghastley: Welcome to the TF ghast! I have to admit that whenever I see your name, force of habit makes me insert a (Sir Graves) in front of it. As Sir Graves Ghastly was a tv show host I used to love back when I was little.

Unfortunately for Henantier, he is a magic geek. Talking with girls is not something he is used to doing, let alone seeing them naked! Poor guy needs to get some practice at the whole thing.


Jacki Dice: That red hair is just sign of the hot blood underneath!


Next: Teresa has returned to reality and become a probationary member of the Fighters Guild. Next we wrap up this chapter when she receives a visit from the man responsible for it all.


Chapter 28.9 –Through A Nightmare Darkly

A knock on the frame of her door snapped her from her musings. Standing in the open doorway was the tall, slender form of Henantier, still clad in his plain blue mage's robe. He was standing sideways, holding a massive crate in his thin arms and looking within.

Screenshot

"Good evening Teresa," the high elf said. His voice showed not the slightest bit of strain, in spite of the heavy burden he carried. "I hope I am not interrupting. I just thought I might bring you something."

"By the Nine Henantier, come in and put that thing down!" Teresa exclaimed, her eyes widening at the size of the crate. It looked bigger than he was, and had to be far heavier than the slender elf. "That must weigh a ton!"

"Oh no," the high elf smiled as he walked into the bedroom and easily set the crate near the doorway. "A simple Feather spell and it weighs next to nothing. I would have conjured something to carry it, but the last time I did that the City Guard was upset. I suppose they are not used to seeing archaens carrying luggage very often."

Teresa felt a faint smile creep across her lips as she tried to imagine the skinny high elf walking down the main street of Bravil with an Aedric manservant in tow. Even in a cosmopolitan place like the Imperial City that would have caused an uproar, let alone in a sleepy little community like Bravil.

"What is in there?" Teresa wondered, stepping forward to look more closely at the crate.

"Potion bottles," the Altmer explained, prying open the lid with his finger and producing a small glass container. "Before you left my house you mentioned that you had forgotten to acquire some when you were previously at the guild house."

"You remembered that?" Teresa said in amazement, staring down at the crate. "There must be hundreds of them in there!"

"One hundred and forty two actually," Henantier said dryly. "It is the least I can do for the woman who saved my life."

"Oh, you don't have to do this for me," Teresa mumbled, feeling her face flush with warmth as she looked down at her feet. "I don't really need anything…"

"You saved my life Teresa," the Altmer said, "I would just like to show my gratitude in a meaningful way. Consider this a down payment. I hold my life to be worth more than a few bottles after all!"

"Really Henantier, you do not have to do anything." Teresa lifted her eyes and stepped closer to the high elf, putting her hands on his arms. "You don't owe me anything."

"Why of course I do," the magician replied, looked back her with a smile on his face. "How can I not?"

"Let me put it this way," Teresa said, biting her lower lip. "When I came down here from the Imperial City I was attacked by bandits. If a legionary had not come along and saved me, I don't know what might have happened. Before that, during the Oblivion Crisis, I would have died if not for another soldier. He lost half of his face to save me, my mother, and the owner of the shop we were in. They didn't do it for a reward. They did it because sometimes helping other people is just the right thing to do. If you really want to make it up to me, then the next time you see someone in trouble, step in and do something for them."

"That is very noble of you Teresa," Henantier blinked, stepping away from her and sitting on the narrow bed. "That is one of the reasons I came here though, sort of." He stared down at his hands, and Teresa had the distinct feeling that he wanted to say something, but could not find the words. It was a circumstance she was all too familiar with, the wood elf thought wryly as she stepped to the door and shut it.

"I did not tell you and Kud-Ei the real reason I created that dreamworld." The high elf stared down at his hands and nervously wrung them together. "Well, not the full reason at least. But considering what you risked, I think you have the right to know the truth. People say that I am a great magician, but they are wrong. I am just an ivory tower wizard, a hollow sham."

"What do you mean?" Teresa sat down beside him, laying a hand on his shoulder. Whatever he had to say, it was clear to her that it disturbed him.

"I grew up to tales of dashing battlemages facing Daedra with a laugh and saving the day," the Altmer said glumly. "That was all I ever wanted to be. But when I tried out for the battlemage program at the University, I found that I just did not have the… nerve. There, I said it. I am a coward! Damn me to Oblivion for it."

"How?" Teresa wondered out loud, biting her lower lip once more. "I mean, did something happen?"

"No, that is the problem, nothing happened at all," the high elf spat. The sarcasm in his voice was sharp enough to cut through steel. "Whenever I thought about having to fight, I mean really fight, I just could not do it. I was so frightened that I could not put myself in danger in the first place. Not even on the training field."

"So you created the dreamworld to face your fears." Teresa said, feeling as if a light had suddenly dawned within her.

"Yes," Henantier breathed, "after all these years, and made a total hash of it too. To the point I had to be rescued from myself!"

"Oh Henantier, do not say that!" Teresa exclaimed. She could not stop herself from putting her arm around the forlorn elf. She only hoped that he would not take it as a sign of anything more than compassion. The last thing she needed was another scene like the one she had with Ancondil the other night! "That was not your fault. The same thing would have happened to anyone who entered that dreamworld, even the Arch-Mage himself!"

The high elf swallowed hard. He opened his mouth to say something, then shut it again. Instead he continued staring at the floor.

"Henantier, look at me," Teresa said. With her other hand she reached out to gently cup his cheek, and turned his face to meet hers. "For all of my life, I have run from every danger I ever faced. I was a mouse. Whenever there was trouble I literally ran and hid. It wasn't until a few months ago that I changed, and it was only because I had no place left to run."

"So what happened?" the high elf asked.

"I stood my ground and I fought," Teresa said, feeling a quiver begin to run through her voice. She remembered the Emperor, and how he died, as clearly as if it had happened yesterday. She remembered how she had went insane afterward, and hacked his assassin to pieces. "I didn't want to, and I never would have done it if I had a choice. I would have fled if I could, believe me, I'm no hero!"

"I guess what I am trying to say is that just because you feel afraid does not make you a coward. Believe me, I feel like shaking like a leaf every time, and afterwards I do! Volsinius - he's a centurion - told me there was one man in his tent group who pissed himself before every fight he was in. They didn't want to stand downwind of him afterward, but they never hesitated to stand beside him. It's ok to be afraid, everyone is."

"You created that dreamworld to face the things that terrified you. That's not something a coward would do. Especially since it could really kill you! The guild commander here would say that took balls. Sure you screwed up, but so do all of us sometimes. If I told you all the things I fetched up in my life we would be here until we both died of old age!"

"Do you really think so?" Teresa saw that Henantier's eyes now glittered with something new, hope perhaps?

"Oh yes," she said with a faint smile. "I've fetched up a lot of things in my time!"

That brought a chuckle from the high elf, just as Teresa had hoped it would. She squeezed him tightly with her arm and continued to speak.

"We have the power to make ourselves whatever we want to be. It is our choices in life that define us. Everything we do, or do not do, makes us what we are. You chose to face your fears once already Henantier. You can do it again. You are better than them."

"Perhaps you are right," the high elf admitted, sitting up straight. "I never thought about it that way."

"Of course I'm right," Teresa said, wrapping both of her arms around him now and holding him close. "I am a woman!"

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Feb 12 2011, 09:00 PM

Don't remind him - he was severely embarassed last time he noticed that/those.

Wonderful conversation between Teresa and Henantier. She is turning into quite the den mother here! As if she isn't in need of one herself from time to time!

Yes, I had always wondered why Henantier created that Dreamworld. It's something the game never really explained to my satisfaction. Your version of it works much better for me - it's like 'a-ha, I see!'

And I see Teresa is getting bolder about small gestures of touch that convey compassion, but could easily be mistaken for compassion. Another marker of her growing self-confidence, I see.

I loved the scene when Henantier has his senses back ... but why did he not notice he was also naked? Seems like something like that would have ... come up. (shameless Foxy plug)

This had me rolling, and I hope you don't mind if I post it in the "Funny Moments in Fanfics" thread:





In my mind, this next quote is a tribute to Teresa's growth. She is becoming confident in awkward situations now, able to smoothly handle embarrassing moments like these when they come up...has the assurance in her own mind that she can handle it. It is an awesome to follow her blossoming, to see the skittish foal she once was becoming this self-assured woman - and through it all remain the Teresa that we love !!

Chapter 28.9

This is one of the places that brings out the inner Teresa that we have seen since that moment beside the Emperor when he died. One of her most endearing traits:





Why is it when I see this:




I think this:

Excellent . It points out a use for summons which had never occured to me but is obvious really, and it fits so well with Henantier's character. I can just imagine him not getting why everyone's upset that he's summoned a monster to carry his bags. Seeing more of him after really helps to flesh out this quest.

His unhappiness at his own weaknesses worked well against the change in Teresa, that she's saying those things really does show how far it's gone, indeed this journey south seems to mark a transition in her. She's not going to be quite the same on her return.

Firstly, let me not bore you with an excuse for being late to comment here, and simply apologize.

This was a magnificent conclusion to your dark nightmare chapter. By sharing Henantier's motivation, you brought a clear meaning into the quest as well as a chance to share some wonderful insights.

My goodness, Teresa has learned so much. Starting with these two passages:

"Let me put it this way," Teresa said, biting her lower lip. "When I came down here from the Imperial City I was attacked by bandits. If a legionary had not come along and saved me, I don't know what might have happened. Before that, during the Oblivion Crisis, I would have died if not for another soldier. He lost half of his face to save me, my mother, and the owner of the shop we were in. They didn't do it for a reward. They did it because sometimes helping other people is just the right thing to do. If you really want to make it up to me, then the next time you see someone in trouble, step in and do something for them."
This powerfully showcases Teresa's essential goodness and empathy.

"I guess what I am trying to say is that just because you feel afraid does not make you a coward. Believe me, I feel like shaking like a leaf every time, and afterwards I do! Volsinius - he's a centurion - told me there was one man in his tent group who pissed himself before every fight he was in. They didn't want to stand downwind of him afterward, but they never hesitated to stand beside him. It's ok to be afraid, everyone is."
So much wisdom from the young elf! Courage is not the lack of fear but rather, action in its very presence.

I'm also impressed that Teresa is learning the difference between leading a man on and the almost magical nurturing that can be found in a woman's touch. I'm so glad that her experience with dear Ancondil has not dissuaded her from the empathy of touch.

Ah, the Feather effect. "Helping turn wimpy mages into loot-hauling dungeon divers everywhere! Also good for moving companies, warehouses, and necromancers too fond of using Burden Rings! Inquire at a Mages Guild Chapter near You! Prices are reasonable!"

Great conversation between Henantier and Teresa. You get into one of the few things that I always find enjoyable in writing, albeit often lacking for various reasons: a character with a philosophy. It's great to see it occur in dialogue without it coming off as preachy.

One comment:

Must...Resist...Making...Corrective...Remark. Too...Difficult. Too...Difficult. Women...Not Always...Right. Example...Awour.

I'm glad to see the frugal Feather spell is at least not lost one one Altmer looking to ease a burden.



It is purpose that created us. Purpose that pulls us. Purpose that connects us, that guides us, that drives us. It is purpose that defines... purpose that binds us. (Hugo Weaving, The Matrix Reloaded)

Furthermore, it is our choices that give us purpose, and it is purpose that gives us a desire to exist. Until the Emperor's intervention, Teresa was simply a frightened girl trying to run away from a meaningful life, and now look how far she's come. She has come to grips with herself, and found a solid reason to continue living... she has certainly come far.

This post has been edited by Thomas Kaira: Feb 14 2011, 02:34 AM

(Sir Graves) ghastley: He needs to get some experience with those sometime!


haute ecole kitty: Teresa definitely needs a den mother! I always wondered why Henantier would go to such great length to create that dreamworld. For some reason when I was going over the possibilities, The Red Badge of Courage came to mind. So I rolled with the idea that he was trying to overcome his own (real or imagined) cowardice.


mALX: Henantier still had his clothes. His dream, so he doesn't have to be in the buff. Besides, he's not Vigge!

You and your hamsters. Don't tell Richard Gere, he might get jealous...


Olen: Yep, that is so Henantier, summon up a Skeleton Champion to carry his bags, or a Flame Atronach to get the fireplace going. It just does not occur to him that other people freak out over that sort of thing.

One of the reasons I liked Teresa's little speech at the end was exactly what you noted. It shows just how far she has come since the beginning of the story, and even just as you said, when she left the Imperial City.


Acadian: Teresa cannot help that nurturing side, even though she now knows it might get her into trouble. As you also noted, she has that essential empathy and basic goodness of character, and sometimes it just takes over. Hopefully that is one of her most endearing traits.


Captain Hammer: I figure the Feather spell is one of the Mages Guild's biggest money-makers. Imagine chests with Feather enchantments? Or backpacks? I have already established that the legion and knight's horses all have Feather's on their saddles to reduce the weight of their riders. I can see mages with feather spells being an integral part of the shipping industry, be it tagging along on horse-drawn carts to move freight, working the docks with stevedores, being a part of ship's crews, etc...

I usually do not think of Teresa as having a philosophy, but I believe you are right. That was it. It is something she has never really consciously acknowledged. Perhaps I should consider that happening in a future chapter?


Thomas Kaira: Teresa does indeed have a purpose. More than one really, although she had not quite realized some of them. She will one day though.


Next: Our previous chapter showed Teresa's final entrance exam for the Fighters Guild. Next we move forward a week to see how she is settling in there.


Chapter 29.1 - A Day In The Life

1st Hearthfire, 3E433

Teresa tied her scarlet tresses back from her face and pulled a pair of loose drawstring trousers up around her waist. Next came a grey legion tunic emblazoned with a black Imperial dragon across its chest. To say the latter fit her loosely was an understatement of Bretonish proportions. She practically swam in the long cotton garment. Finally lifting the Fighters Guild amulet from where it hung atop her mirror, the wood elf settled it around her neck and was out the door of her room.

The guild hall was silent and dark as the forester padded down the stairs and through the back door. She jogged lightly around the edges of the practice field behind the towering building, making two complete circuits of the long enclosure. Rather than use the wooden gate to make her exit, she hopped over the low stone fence, and made her way down the alley between the guild hall and the building next door.

The tolling of the chapel bell greeted her as she stepped out onto Silver Avenue, as did the first rays of the morning sun. The wood elf leapt to the front porch of the guild hall to stretch her limbs in the crisp morning air, going through a routine of exercises that Pappy had taught her to warm up her muscles. Finally, when her body felt loose and limber, she sprang to her feet once more and began a steady trot along Bravil's main street.

She did not race as fast as she could, rather she fell into a steady pace instead. She reminded herself to breathe in deeply, through her nose rather than her mouth. That was something else Pappy had harped on her to always do as well. Considering that he was twice her age, but clearly in better shape, she was not going to disagree with the guild commander.

Trotting north to the main gate, she found the city guardsman on watch in the tower above staring down at her and shaking his head. Well, at least he was not sounding the alarm, she thought, or giving chase. That was how the city guard had reacted the first time she went jogging through the streets. Why did soldiers always think that when someone was running it had to be because they had just stolen something?

At least the guild amulet seemed to help keep them from being over-zealous, she mused. She had taken to wearing it after her first encounter with the Bravil guard, and was surprised at the difference in how they - and others - treated her afterward. In fact, whenever she wore the medallion, people acted as if she was nearly a legionary or city guardsman herself. Then again, the guild charter did require members to not just obey, but also uphold the laws of the Empire. So in a way, she was almost a legionary or guardsman after all!

The wood elf smiled faintly at the irony as she turned west from the gate and continued her steady jog down Larsius Street. The northern wall of the city rose over her right shoulder, and block after block of stone and wooden homes passed by on her left. Glancing up, she saw that the sky overhead was stained a palette of soft colors ranging from purple to yellow as Magnus roused from his slumber and began his daily circuit across the firmament.

This was her favorite time in the city; early in the morning when most people were still asleep. It was almost as good as being out in the forest, she thought. The only sounds were the chirping of the birds in the trees and rush of the rivers, while the air was edged with a crisp bite that invigorated her lungs.

By Mara, how had she become a morning person! Back in the Imperial City she would have been just going to sleep at this time. But the capital did not have sunrises like this, or quiet times when there was nothing but her and the beauty of Nirn.

Teresa continued on, turning left at Chapel Way and following it south along the west wall of the city. Soon the great basilica of the Benevolence of Mara came into view, flanked to left and right by stone-walled graveyards. By now she found that her heart was beating faster in her chest, and her breath was becoming more strained. Sweat dampened her brow as she circled the Mages Guild and took South Street over the bridge that spanned the central river to the southern island.

The city was coming alive by that time. People scurried around to the bakeries for fresh bread, and carts trundled through the streets to make their morning deliveries of milk, cheese, eggs, and other perishables. In the river below fishermen were already rowing their small boats out from the docks and into Niben Bay.

Teresa waved to Aia as she trotted by the southwest corner of the city wall, where the old Imperial kept her bedroll under the eaves of a laundry. The beggar was still waking up and took a moment to respond with a welcome cry. Teresa could not stop however, and turned east onto Bay Street with the rising sun in her face.

She followed the southern edge of the island until she came to the Niben gate. Not a regular gate like the one on the north side of the city, this instead opened the southern branch of the interior river to the bay. Here the great blocks of the city wall came to a stop at the edge of the water, forming a large gap for the river to flow through. The wall began again at the far side of the river, where the stone manors of the wealthy and the brooding mass of the castle took up the smallest of the three islands that made up the city of Bravil. A massive chain was spooled up on the castle side of the river, and the wood elf imagined that it might be stretched across the river entrance to block ships from entering. Although given the rust that caked its metal links, she doubted that it had been used in a long time.

Sparing a glance through the gate, Teresa saw the blue waves of Niben Bay stretching out to the horizon. One fishing boat was already in the open water there. A dory, Teresa thought, the same little boat that the fishermen from the Waterfront of the Imperial City used. As she watched, its two-man crew unfurled the small boat's oddly-shaped sprit-rig sail. Mostly triangular, the canvas had uneven sides, with the front running straight nearly to the top of the sail before angling back, while the bottom curving gently upward to meet the long, downward slope of the trailing end.

Screenshot

Turning back, Teresa continued on her jog around the inner edge of the southern isle, passing the many homes and occasional shops that filled it. Then she was back to South Street and made her way across the center bridge to the northern isle. There she turned east on Riverwalk and followed the river back toward the Fighters Guild.

She passed the chapel of Kynareth and The Warlock's Luck, and continued on. Turning at the bridge leading to the castle, Teresa found herself back on Silver Avenue and headed north. She passed Tavian on the street as she neared her own guild hall and waved to him. He would be going to get fresh bread for breakfast, she knew. But even though her stomach rumbled at the idea of warm bread dipped in olive oil, she sped past the hall to make another circuit of the city, and did not stop running until she had crossed back over the central bridge a second time.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Feb 16 2011, 01:13 AM

Whew! I'm tired just reading that workout!

But honestly, it's a great way to describe the layout and environment of Bravil. Calling out the landmarks as Teresa jogs past them helps to firm the mental map of the place and expand on the rather sketchy in-game version.

Teresa's musings about the guards chasing her that first morning was funny! "Stop! You broke the law! (*but what law?*) Oh, you're with the Fighter's Guild? Carry on!"

Excellent chapter, I must say. Reminds me of a story a friend on the local force told me. He and his partner see one guy running down another, and they rush over to stop it by trying to arrest the one doing the chasing. Only when they get him down they find out he's DEA, and the original 'victim' is a dealer. Nearly let the real perp go by accidentally stopping the wrong guy.

The remarks about Pappy's continued level of awesomeness are excellent. Probably one of my favorite characters in the TF story, not the least of which includes his appreciation for fine whiskey

I like the way you've managed to make the town feel bigger than the one in the game without actually changing anything. There's a couple of references to things that aren't there in-game, subtle plurals for shops that only exist once etc. but I still match up the landmarks in the right order, so it all still fits.

Nit:
"Then again, since the guild charter did require members to not just obey, but also uphold the laws of the Empire. " - I'd just lose that. I suspect you'd started off with the next sentence as the missing clause and didn't finish the edit.

A nice, brisk jog to start the morning right. Nothing better.

Teresa is certainly living the good life. She is a model if the very freedom so many people strive for now; that you are in total control of your destiny and nothing can change that.

Quite a fun read.

This post has been edited by Thomas Kaira: Feb 15 2011, 02:19 AM