Teresa of the Faint Smile, Adventures of a Stringy Bosmer Options

[SubRosa]

Hi all, welcome to Teresa 2.0. Some of you may recognize the stringy wood elf this fan fic is about from another forum. I am going to start reposting her adventures here. However, I have taken this opportunity
for a fresh start to go back over the story and do some work on it. Starting with an entirely new scene, which you see below.

I have decided to give up the idea of breaking things up into separate Acts like I did with Not A Hero and Moving Through Darkness. It was probably a little confusing. Instead I am just going to go with a single title and let it go on as long as it needs to, hence the new name.

You will also find that the first half of what used to be called Not A Hero has been heavily edited. Hopefully an improvement! The rest of the story will also receive a facelift, although generally not as great. There will probably be a few more entirely new chapters turning up between some of the old ones as well. So this is not the same story you might have seen on the other forum.


For people new to the TF, you might find it easier to catch up with the cliff notes version in the spoiler tags below:




* * *

Chapter 1 –Warning

12th Second Seed, 3E433

The harsh croaking of a raven prompted Teresa to raise her green eyes from the only slightly bruised apple that she was eating. The alley behind the Tiber Septim Hotel was narrow, a thin gouge cut between massive stone buildings that loomed high to either side and cast its depths into dim shadow. Sacks filled with trash dotted the length of the lane, clustered in small islands near the back doors of every business and home.

The pale wood elf stood at one such mound of garbage, filled with slops and other castoffs. Rich people threw away the best food, she knew, making the back streets here in the Talos Plaza district a practical gold mine for street urchins like herself.

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Her scavenged lunch fell from suddenly nerveless fingers however, as she gazed down the alley and saw the figure of a man running in the shadows. He was clad in plain linens, the clothing of an ordinary plebeian. But there was nothing ordinary about the way he held a drawn sword in his hand, nor the blood that stained it.

Before the elf could bolt and run herself, the interloper was upon her. Now she could see he was an Imperial by his olive skin and dark hair. He reached out to her with his free hand, and as Teresa backed away she realized that it was not only his sword that was washed in blood, but the front of his tunic as well.

"You must warn them!" the Imperial croaked through the blood that flowed from his mouth. As she stared with wide eyes, Teresa was certain she could see tiny bubbles of air bursting up from the red flow. She had seen that before, from deep knife wounds to the chest. He was a dead man, she thought, he just did not know it yet.

His hand clutched at the shabby tunic of worn sack cloth that Teresa wore, grabbing a handful of the rough material. Teresa nearly jumped as his fingers pressed against one of her breasts. The sword fell from his other hand with a clatter of steel on stone, and the Imperial dropped to his knees, collapsing into her.

Teresa stared with wide eyes at the dying man, whose head was now buried in the valley between her small breasts. Her heart raced like a wild horse, and she felt her skin grow cold as Skyrim. Try as she might to flee, her feet seemed rooted to the spot however. All she could do was gape in growing horror as the man clutched at her willowy frame and spat blood over her already bedraggled clothing.

The sound of footsteps caused her to lift her eyes and gaze back down the way the Imperial had come. There stood a handful of figures wearing dark red robes, nearly black in the dim light. Hoods of the same material covered their heads, shrouding their faces in darkness. She saw blades in their hands as well. Not mortal steel, but rather monstrous, wavy knives, like the jagged teeth of some fearsome Daedra.

"They're going to kill the-" with that the Imperial's voice gave out, and she heard a rattling noise issue from his throat. It was like a dry breeze through an abandoned tenement. Then he fell limp at her feet, open eyes staring blankly back up at her from the pavement.

"Hey, what's going on back there!" came an iron growl from the other end of the alley. The clash of armored boots rang out between the high buildings, reverberating in the Bosmer's ears. Wrenching her gaze from the dead man, Teresa turned to see an Imperial Watchman charging down the alley toward her, dark eyes glittering like polished ebony within the 'T'-shaped slit in his full-faced helmet.

"You there! Put down your weapons and surrender." The legionary had his arming sword out now, and before the wood elf knew it, he was standing before her. He took a moment to first glance down at the dead man at Teresa's feet, and then the blood that washed her tunic.

"I didn't-" Teresa gasped, feeling her blood turn to ice with the understanding of how things must look to the watchman. Then the steel gauntlet of his left hand was reaching out for her, and the words slipped from her throat.

"You'll hang for this street meat!" the legionary growled.

With that Teresa finally felt her body come back under her control. Twisting away from watchman's grasp, she sprang for the other end of the alley. Her eyes saw that the red-robed figures were gone now. Then her view swam as her foot caught upon the corpse of the Imperial. She felt herself falling, and her head slammed against something hard as she came to a stop.

Her vision narrowed, as if she were within a tunnel. She was vaguely aware of the thin, blue slit of the sky above her, flanked by the grey stone of buildings to either side. She thought she saw a dark bird spread its wings in that sliver of light. But then the shape dissolved, and turned into the steel helmet of the legionary, looming closer and closer. Finally, darkness consumed her.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Jul 30 2020, 01:31 AM

[SubRosa]

Verlox: Thank you V. I am glad the chapter worked. I wanted something that would draw people in.


Winter Wolf: Thanks WW. I was going to call it a prologue (since that is what it is), but I have noticed that some people who write fan fics call a big infodump where they explain everything about how their world works a prologue as well. I did not want anyone confusing mine with that and deciding not to read.

No faint smiles for a while though. Not until chapter 3 I think. She does look different without the leather does she not? I have several more pics to add for these early chapters like the previous one.


treydog: Woof! Keep your eyes peeled for those birds...


Destri Melarg: Thank you Dest. Many people have commented that the beginning of Not A Hero was decent, and then about four posts in it suddenly became much better. That is the reason I have taken the time to rework these early chapters, and added in this entirely new one. I want to get these parts up to snuff. With this prologue especially, I want to really grab the reader.


haute ecole rider: Thank you h.e.r. I was hoping for something that would grab people.


* * *

Chapter 2a - On The Wings Of Ravens

12th Second Seed, 3E433

Teresa woke with her head pounding like a Nord was playing the drums inside of her skull. She ran a hand through her long brown hair, and found it stiff with dried blood. Pain flared bright and hot through the steady beating between her temples as her questing fingers came across a goose egg of risen flesh in the back of her scalp.

The Bosmer winced and closed her eyes for long moments, until the stinging pain from the bump on her head abated. When finally the pounding began to ease as well she looked around to see where she was.

She quickly realized that it was a prison cell. Rusty, but still very serviceable-looking iron manacles hung from one of its stone walls. Next to it was a niche in the wall with a raised stone floor. After a moment of staring at it she realized it must be a bed, given the dirty straw that was spread across it. A ragged stool and rickety wooden table sat opposite the sleeping niche, with a simple plate and cup of chipped pottery haphazardly thrown across it. Torches that guttered in the hall outside filled the room with their dancing orange light, and Teresa rose to walk to the door of solid iron bars that barred her exit.

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"Well now, a little wood elf. You're a little far from the forest, aren't you?" The voice dripped with sarcasm, like venom from a serpent's mouth. Teresa saw it came from a man silhouetted in the dim light of the cell across the hall from her. "Looks like your days of woodland frolicking have come to a tragic end. To go from the gladed realm of Valenwood to a rat-infested hole like this... how very sad."

Teresa snorted to herself. She had never set foot outside the Imperial City, let alone frolicked in any woodland. This guy was a complete idiot, she thought, there was no sense even trying to talk to him.

Instead she pushed her lean frame against the iron bars, and found them to be as unrelenting as she had expected them to be. Pressing her head against the door, she craned her neck from one side to another in an attempt to peek down the hallway. Yet nothing but empty stone corridor stretched off to the left, and an equally empty stone stair lead up and out of sight to the right.

"Have you ever seen someone hang?" The other prisoner continued in an icy voice. "No long drops here to snap your neck. Oh no, it's the short step for you. They like to watch you dance on the end of the rope. Ten minutes of agony, or even longer, as your life slips away bit by bit. First your face turns blue as you slowly strangle. Then little red spots burst all over your skin. Finally, in the end, your tongue will pop out as you die. I've seen it plenty, and I'm going to see it one more time when they come for you."

Teresa shivered in spite of herself. She had seen the corpses of murderers hanging on display outside of the Imperial Prison, across from the Market Gate. It was never pretty. The thought of her being one of them made her stomach churn and skin crawl. Surely they would understand when she explained it all to them! she thought. They had to understand, she was innocent!

Sure, she thought, as if a magistrate was going to believe that a street urchin like herself was innocent of anything…

The sound of clattering metal and hard-soled boots stamping on the stone floor came to her ears. Teresa knew that sound from a lifetime of experience. The Imperial Legion was coming. Was this it then? she wondered with sinking feeling, were they coming for her?

Teresa stepped back as a group of soldiers walked up to the door of her cell and peered inside. Then she started in surprise. These were no ordinary soldiers, she knew. They did not wear the dark clamshell plate of the legion. Rather their armor was made of bright, silvery bands of steel wrapping horizontally around their torsos and falling down over their shoulders. Golden tassels tied each piece together in a long line down the center of their chests. More studs of gold seemed to rivet the shoulder pieces down, and elaborately carved gorgets of the same covered their throats.

The first was a dark-skinned Redguard, and behind him came a brown-haired Breton woman. Both carried long curved swords instead of the usual broad, straight arming swords that the Imperial Legion favored. The Breton's was drawn and in her hand, and as she drew near she could see its glimmering steel was already stained dark with blood. More figures stood behind them, but Teresa could not make them out.

"Someone is in here," the Redguard said, glancing back at his companions. "There must have been some kind of foul up with the legion. This cell is supposed to always be empty."

"Oh well, nothing for it now," the Breton woman muttered, then stared directly at Teresa with eyes that could freeze a Daedra. "Step back to the far wall prisoner, or I will send you to Oblivion right now!"

Teresa believed her, and moved back to the wall opposite the door and was careful not to move. These were not the usual soldiers she was used to dealing with on the street. Nor were they even the dragon-emblazoned praetorians that stood guard in the Palace District. These were the Blades, she suddenly realized. The personal bodyguards of the Emperor!

The Redguard unlocked the door and stepped inside. He walked directly across the room to where Teresa stood and stopped an arm's length away. Just far enough for him to easily draw and swing his curved sword. Teresa noted. The Breton followed and walked over to the wall behind him. She did something to one of the stones there that Teresa could not see, and suddenly the entire wall slid away with a grating of stone on stone, revealing a dark passage beyond.

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A third member of the party entered, giving Teresa her first good look at him. He was an old man, hair white with age and wrinkled frame even more slender than her own. He wore a robe of purple and red brocade, decorated with white fur that grew around his shoulders like a lion's mane. What Teresa really noticed however, was the amulet that hung around his neck, which held a diamond-shaped ruby the size of her hand.

"It is you..." the old Imperial said, staring at Teresa and moving up to her, closer than even the Redguard stood. "You are the one from my dreams, Teresa... On the wings of ravens you have come... Then the stars were right, and this is the day. Gods give me strength."

The willowy elf looked at him with a dumbfounded stare. Teresa did not have to guess who this man was, or what that necklace was. He was the Emperor, Uriel Septim VII, and that was the Amulet of Kings! Everyone in Cyrodiil knew the amulet. It was on every statue of every emperor, going back to Alessia herself.

"Sir, we have no time," the Redguard warned as another soldier entered the room behind. This last Blade waited at the doorway, watching the way they had come from. "We have to get moving before the assassins find us."

Teresa was stunned. The Emperor himself was talking to her, a lowly street urchin! Somehow he even knew her face, knew her name. Her world spun. This could not be happening! she thought. It just could not be real. She did not know what to say. But even if she had, it would not have mattered, as her voice had deserted her.

The three bodyguards ushered the Emperor through the secret passage in the wall of her cell. The Breton warned her to stay out of their way, or else. But the Redguard mumbled something about it being her lucky day as the group drifted into the darkness.

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This post has been edited by SubRosa: Jul 30 2020, 01:32 AM