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.

Screenshot

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]

Olen: Thank you Olen. Teresa is not quite totally free of her past however, which we will see in the future. Simplicia will always be a powerful force in her life, for better and worse. Her friendship with Methredhel, while appearing to be at least on hiatus now, still has life in it. There also be someone else from her past taking a much more important role in her life in the near future.

However, she is a completely clean slate as far as the future is concerned. This post will show how that begins.

Thank you for spotting those three paragraphs, I went back and changed the beginning of the second to avoid the three repeats in a row. The comma looks ok to me, as it adds a pause for breath in what would otherwise be a very long sentence without it.


minque: Thank you M. People often comment on that last picture. I worked hard to get it, and it remains one of my favorite screenshots.


Destri Melarg: Thank you Dest. I am going to start looking at what I might do with some flashbacks. I might be able to work something into the next 4-5 chapters or so, at the end of the Oblivion Crisis. I will probably want to tell a story of how Teresa met Methredhel and Adanrel, and make some form of adventure (for ten year old's) out of it. Maybe they will find an abandoned pirate ship in a secret cave under the Imperial City, I could call the chapter The Goonies...


Remko: Thank you Rem. The argument you are thinking of is set in the future, so keep your eyes peeled for it.


All: The following is an entirely new chapter, as will be chapter 8. This next post is a little long, but if I broke it up into two they would be a bit too short...


* * *

Chapter 7a - Vilverin

8th - 10th Midyear, 3E433

Teresa was standing in the grotto again. Shadows lurked around her, and the sunlit pool glimmered before her eyes. Stepping to the edge of the water, the wood elf allowed the sunlight to warm her pale skin for a moment. Glancing down at the pond, she was tempted to ease herself into its crystal clear waves.

But that was not what she was here for. Looking up, she saw the figure cloaked in raven's feathers waiting for her on the other side of the pool. Again, she had the same feeling of otherness as before, as if it were someone else in the room with her. Even though she knew it was herself.

Teresa walked purposely around the water and stood before the figure, who lifted her head to greet her. The wood elf's hand reached out to touch the soft feathers of her hood, drawing it back and revealing her own face staring back at her.

Then she was standing on the edge of the shadows, looking back the way she had come. She was alone in the grotto.

Or was she? She felt a presence with her, enfolding her in a warm embrace. Looking down, she watched as a wave of black feathers washed over her body, completely shrouding her in their soft down. Reaching out with her arms, she found that they had become wings. Tilting back her head, the guttural croaking of a raven issued from her long beak.

With a single, powerful motion of her wings she was in the air. The walls of grotto slid past as she flew around the edges of the room. The sunlight called to her, and she soared up through the hole in the ceiling and high into the blue sky above. The green canopy of the forest spread out beneath her wings, and Teresa croaked out a song of joy as the wind caressed the feathers on her face.

* * *

Teresa woke with a faint smile, gazing up at the ravens that lined the branches of the apple tree overhead. It was the ravens that were with her in her dream, she knew, or a raven. Not that it really mattered one way or the other. The birds cawed as she rose to her feet and stretched, seemingly unafraid of her. "Good evening," she said to them in reply, resisting the urge to reach out and touch them.

She found that the sun was hanging low in the western sky, framing the needle spire of White Gold Tower in the distance. The image took the forester's breath away. For long moments she just stood there and drank in the moment as the brilliant disc of the sun painted the sky red and orange behind the shining white stone of the tower.

The ravens took flight with a chorus of guttural cries. Turning her head, Teresa saw that a wagon loaded down bales of hay was wending its way down the nearby road. Lifting her pack, arrow-bag, and bow stave, she set off from the copse of trees in which she had slept. Crossing a field of low corn, she set her feet to the pavestones of the road, leaving the image of the tower behind her.

She made her way along the road in the dimming light, passing several more carts and wagons going in either direction. Around her were orchards and cultivated fields now. Every half mile or so she passed by a small village off the road, their denizens returning to their homes from the surrounding croplands as the light faded.

In time it was full dark, but Teresa did not pause in her walk. She could see well enough, she thought, and she always had her Night Eye goggles if she could not. The traffic on the road vanished as people found better places to be, leaving the wood elf alone on the wide thoroughfare. Just how she liked it, she thought, with only herself and the beauty of Nirn around her.

She found there was not much foraging for alchemical ingredients as she made her way past the fields of wheat and corn, and occasional pastures for cows and other livestock. All the land here was either under the till or the hungry mouths of animals. It had been like this from yesterday, she remembered, ever since she neared the road. So far as she could tell, the farmland stretched from the Market District gate of the Imperial City all the way to the shores of Lake Rumare.

It had been much nicer further north, past the Imperial Prison, the wood elf thought to herself as she ambled over the hard stones of the road. The land was all wild up there, with only occasional islands of habitation. She had found the entire north coast of the City Isle that way during her week-long trek from the western bridge along the rim of the island.

Now she found herself on the opposite end of the island from where she had left the city. Was it only a week ago? she wondered. She had already gathered plenty of ingredients during her journey. But she was in no mood to return to the city just yet. The thought of seeing Simplicia again was tempting. But so was the idea of crossing the lake and seeing what lay beyond.

As they had done ever since she had rounded the brooding grey bulk of the Imperial Prison, the wood elf's thoughts went to the graceful white spires that she had glimpsed across the water. An Ayleid ruin she knew, the same one she had seen when she had escaped from the sewers nearly a month before. A lifetime ago it now seemed. What might she find in its ancient walls? the forester wondered, riches? secrets long buried?

Or a horrible death, she thought with a snort. Those places were supposed to be haunted after all, by the long dead ghosts of their creators. Still, some part of her felt drawn to the ruin. She could still picture it in her mind's eye, just the way she had seen it that night she escaped the sewer. Rising in the moonlight across the lake, the flicking light of a lonely campfire had washed its stones with dancing red and orange light.

The road sloped down beneath her feet, and the faint sound of waves came to her ears. Spread out below her she could see the lights of a town, much larger than the small farming hamlets she had passed along the way. Beyond its daub and wattle homes lay the black waters of Lake Rumare, like a bed of satin under a canopy of stars.

Her feet took her into the settlement, named Sideways according to the sign on the road. In spite of the hour, people still made their way through the streets, which were illuminated by the flickering light of streetlamps. She came to a two-story building whose lower half was made of stone and upper of daub and wattle. A wagon wheel hung over the door, and the sign next to it displayed a foaming flask of ale and proclaimed it to be The Turning Wheel.

After drinking nothing but water for the last week, Teresa licked her lips at the thought of a glass of wine. Making her way inside, she found that the inn was filled with people laughing, singing, and throwing darts. All were commoners by their simple flax and linen attire. None of them paid her any mind as she entered, and the Bosmer squeezed into a space at the bar between an Argonian and an Imperial.

"Wine," Teresa said to the barkeep, passing a coin across the counter. "Tamika's or Surilie Brothers if you have it."

"We don't get those kind of fancy drops here," the Khajiit said in response. Her fur was dark orange, nearly red, and crossed with black stripes. "I've got some shein though, fresh in from Morrowind. I'm Harassa by the way, and this is my inn."

Teresa nodded in approval. She had no idea what shein was. But she thought she might as well try new things as she set down her pack and laid her bow stave against the bar. Everything she had done in the last month had been new to her. Almost as if her life had started over again from the beginning.

"What are you, one of those woodsrunners?" the middle-aged Imperial beside her asked, peering over a foaming mug of ale at Teresa.

"I guess I am," Teresa replied. It felt strange to her, speaking to someone else in a tavern. Usually no one ever noticed her. Not that she had ever frequented ale houses in the first place. "I spend most of my time in the forest."

"Have any fresh venison or wild boar?" the Khajiit innkeeper asked, sliding a glass filled with dark red liquid to her. "I'll make you a deal for it."

"Oh no, I would never hurt an animal," Teresa said instantly. A moment later both the Imperial and Khajiit were laughing uproariously.

"A hunter who doesn't hunt!" the Imperial chuckled. "What do you do out those woods then?"

"I gather - alchemical supplies - and make potions." Teresa said, feeling a familiar warmth spreading through her cheeks.

She took a sip from the glass and found the shein was a slightly sour-tasting wine, unlike the sweet fare she was used to. In spite of that, it was not that bad, she thought as she took another sip. It slid down her throat as smooth as silk, and each taste made her want for more.

"Ah I'm just hackin' on ya!" the Imperial said, clapping a hand on the wood elf's shoulder so hard that she nearly spat out her drink. "I'm Lucillus, Lucillus Cato. I'm a carter, same as damn near everyone else this place. Own my own wagon I do. Me and my boys do the run from Cheydinhal to the City twice a month. "

That must explain the name of the inn, Teresa thought, and the wagon wheel outside. Suddenly she remembered the Ayleid ruin she had seen days before. She imagined it might be near the road, if it was…

"Say, do you know anything about the Ayleid ruin up north of here, on the far shore of the lake?" she asked.

"You mean Vilverin?" the Imperial said after furrowing his brows for a moment. "Ah, you don't wanna go near that place little lady. It's haunted. They say if you die in one of those ruins, your soul is doomed to become one of its guardians. That's why they're always full of monsters. I hear a couple wagons got attacked by there last week. Everyone killed. Probably undead from the ruin, or maybe Daedra."

Teresa felt a shiver run along her spine. That was the second time that someone had warned her about Daedra on the roads. She had never seen one. Yet still the idea of one of those monsters made her blood run cold.

"What about the Imperial Legion?" Teresa wondered. "Aren't they supposed to do something about it?"

"What you haven't heard?" the Imperial looked at her with widened eyes. When she shook her head, he continued. "They're all headed out west for Kvatch."

Teresa stiffened involuntarily. That was where Jauffre had told the Blade to ride, to find the Emperor's heir!

"What about Kvatch?" Teresa asked, reaching out a hand to grab the Imperial's arm. "What happened?"

"They say it was destroyed," the Imperial said in a lowered voice. "The Daedra did it they say! Opened up a gate to Oblivion right outside the city and burned it to the ground."

Teresa turned away, the room spinning beneath her from more than just the shein. No, not when the heir was there! What had that white-haired Redguard said his name was, Martin? She must have found him and saved him, the wood elf thought, she must have!

Teresa downed the rest of her glass without tasting it. Ignoring the stares from the Imperial and Khajiit innkeeper alike, she found herself hoisting her gear upon her back and heading out the door. It was not until her feet had taken her to the shores of the lake that she stopped and looked around herself.

She was standing upon a wooden pier that jutted far out into the inky water. Wide ferries were tied up around her, the great wheels of paddles that flanked either side of their hulls now silent and still. She had seen them before on the Waterfront. People said they were of Dwemer design, using horses to somehow turn wheels and gears that spun the paddles. The smell of those horses came from nearby, and her questing eye picked out a stable next to the dock. Maybe someday she would ride on one, she thought, to see how they really worked.

Smaller, normal fishing boats with their single sails dotted another pier she saw nearby. There was no sign of the big, ocean-going ships she was used to seeing at the Waterfront though. Perhaps the lake was not deep enough for them here, the wood elf thought. Not that she had any idea how deep it had to be for a ship like that.

There was not a soul in sight. It was just her, the water, and the stars overhead. A crow flew down and settled upon one of the massive wooden piles that nailed the pier to the lakebed. The black bird seemed to stare at her for long moments, before cawing out. The wood elf stepped toward the bird, and it took flight once more, winging across the black waves to the north.

Somehow, she knew that Martin was safe, and that he was with the white-haired soldier, Julian. Teresa had no idea how she knew, she just did. It was almost as if the bird had told her. She realized that it made no sense, but as she stood beneath the blanket of stars, she found that she could care less for sense. She would take the crows and ravens over it any day.

Feeling the hard band of the Jewel of the Rumare under the glove that wrapped her left hand, Teresa stared down at the water below. Then she raised her eyes to the north. Somewhere out there, far over the horizon, was Vilverin. She did not know why, but it was calling to her. It had ever since she had first seen it after escaping from the Imperial Prison.

Wasting no more time thinking, Teresa stepped from the dock and let the cool, dark waters of the lake enfold her.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Jan 7 2011, 03:42 AM