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]

minque: Thank you minque. If your son has Oblivion then kick him off the comp and start playing it!


Olen: Thanks O. One of the things I aim to do with the TF is to portray Cyrodiil is a much larger place than in the game. As well as try to apply a little more realism (i.e. big cities require even bigger farmlands to feed everyone).

Thank you for catching those nits. Both fixed.


haute ecole rider: Thank you h.e.r. That certain Redguard appears again in this post, in more than just rumor...

We are used to seeing the Oblivion Crisis from the center of it all. One thing I am going to try to do with this chapter and the next is to give a common person's view of the Crisis. Teresa will learn about events in the same way everyone else does, through rumors, Black Horse Courier reports, talking to soldiers on the road, magical divinations, etc...


treydog: Woof! I am glad the dreams are working. They do seem to add a whole new dimension to Teresa without really fundamentally changing who she is. I think (hope!) they might instead give a little more reason for her to do many of the things she does. Like do her first dungeon dive, go to this place or that, many of which did not have a real solid rationale to them in the original version.

I like cameos. If I could find some way to work in Rales or Athlain (or best of all Athynae!) into the TF I would. Julian's has been very fortunate for me, as she fills a space that was very vague in the past (who the Hero of Kvatch/Bruma was). So it is both a neato! moment to read, but also takes an important place in the plot.


Acadian: Hail sir Knight! Methredhel is one of my favorite npcs in the game. I am still looking forward to writing Methredhel's Eleven...


* * *

Chapter 7b - Vilverin

The twin moons Masser and Secunda were lowering on the horizon by the time Teresa rose from the waves on the opposite shore of the lake. Checking the bowstrings she kept in a pouch across her chest, she was pleased to see that they were still dry, as was her leather armor. Once more she felt the Jewel of the Rumare under her glove and smiled faintly. What would she do without that ring?

Wait until next morning for the ferry, she thought as she walked ashore and looked back across the lake. How many miles had that been? she wondered, ten? Enough for her limbs to feel leaden with effort, even with the rest breaks she had taken in the water. Sitting down under a tree near the shore, she shucked off her pack and lay her back against its trunk and sighed.

The grey stone walls of an Imperial Legion fortress loomed before her eyes. Its round keep brooded high in the night sky overhead, and only a lone torch moved slowly along the battlements to reveal the presence of its occupants. That must be Fort Urasek, Teresa imagined, and the sprawl of buildings along the shore between her and it must be the town of the same name. She had seen its lights when she was half-way across the lake, but now the settlement was dark.

Honest people are all tucked in their beds at this hour, Teresa thought as she dug through her belongings for dinner. Only rogues like her were up and about in the middle of the night. She realized that she should have bought more bread and cheese at the inn, as she produced several handfuls of each from her pack. Still, it ought to be enough for her to walk up to Vilverin and back.

After a leisurely dinner, Teresa rose feeling refreshed and set her feet inland. In moments she came to a wide road of stone. The Red Ring Road, she thought as she followed it to her left, bringing her closer to the town and fort. At the edge of the fortress she found it intersected with another pair of roads. One led into the fort and continued down to the lakeshore where the town was. The other went in the opposite direction, heading off deeper inland. A sign post rising up in the moonlight told her that it led to Cheydinhal.

Where the carter had come from, Teresa remembered as she pressed on into the night. Maybe she should try going out that way after Vilverin? She had never been there before. That seemed to be as good a reason as any these days. The entire world was out there waiting for her to see it.

She only wished that Simplicia could be here with her. What would the old woman think of the miles of forest and wide open skies? She would probably be terrified, Teresa realized with a shake of her head. After all, Simplicia had always been the first person to tell her to stay with what you know, and always play it safe.

As the sun dawned on the eastern horizon, Teresa found a place to sleep near the road. Hidden away behind a large stand of brush, no one passing by would see her. Unrolling her bedroll, she stripped off her armor and quickly fell asleep.

* * *

She found herself in the grotto. Her grotto, Teresa realized. The sunlit pool was before her and the shadows clung to the walls behind her. Once more she knew that she was not alone. She did not have to look around this time. Instead she smiled faintly and stretched out her arms to either side. She could feel the coat of black feathers roll down her skin, covering her in their soft embrace.

The ravens are with me, she thought as she gave her wings a mighty flap. Then she was in the air, and flying through the cavern. The sunlight beckoned, and once more she winged her way through the opening in the ceiling and out into the open sky above.

She saw more ravens around her, and flew with them across a wide lake. She laughed as the wind caressed her face, her voice now the guttural croaking of one of the black birds. Her heart beat strong in her chest, and the air was crisp and clear in her lungs. Somehow everything in the world felt right.

They passed over a great island, its hills crowned by a circular city of stone. Flying past it, they eventually came to the far shore of the lake and continued inland. For miles and miles they flew, and by the time that she and the other ravens dipped lower to the ground, it had risen into the foothills of a mountain range.

The winding snake of a stone road came to her eyes, poorly concealed under the carpet of trees below. She saw three riders there. The first was a Redguard woman with milky white hair. Behind her was a young Imperial wearing a priest's cassock. Last in the group was an older man with a shaven head, also wearing a monk's robe.

For some reason she felt drawn to the group of people. Breaking off from the rest of the ravens, she swooped low through the oaks and down to the road underneath. That is when she recognized the Redguard. It was Julian, whom Jauffre had dispatched to Kvatch when she was at Weynon. She could also now see that the monk in the rear was none other than Jauffre himself.

But the man in the center, his face was unknown to her. Yet his eyes, flashing with blue light, those she did recognize. She had seen them before, and when all had been darkest they had given her strength.

"The Emperor!" Teresa gasped, eyes flying open in the afternoon sun. Her heart raced, and she could almost still feel the wind under her body. Looking around herself, she found that she was back on Nirn, an ordinary wood elf once more. Yet laying scattered around her narrow bedroll were nearly half a dozen black feathers…


* * *

It was well after dark by the time Teresa came to Vilverin, her bow in hand and a brace of black feathers now adorning her hair. A ring of shattered white walls rose along the outer edge of the ruin. Within lay more broken stone, remnants of both walls and buildings, rising up a hill in the center of the complex. There a circular colonnade stretched high into the sky overhead, the roof which it had support long since vanished. A greenish-white light blazed within the columns, and from where she stood on the edge of the ruin, Teresa could see a circle of white steps leading up to it.

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As she drew nearer, the wood elf realized it was not a fire at all. Rather it was a fountain of light. Yet what created it, she had no idea. Climbing up the hill to the circle of columns, she found herself staring at what seemed like a well of sorts. Rather than leading down into darkness however, its inside was filled with metal flanges that grew from the stone around them. Somehow the light sprang from the metal. Rising high into the air, it shifted and eddied as if it was a gas.

Teresa could feel it then. The power flowing from the well. It was the same energy that she felt deep within her whenever she cast a spell. Magicka. There was no mistaking it. Yet here it was in a veritable fountain, right before her eyes.

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Teresa stretched her hand out into the flow of energy. Her skin tingled as the magicka flowed through it. Closing her eyes, Teresa tried to draw it up, just as she drew the power from within her when using a spell. The magicka flowed into her like a river, and Teresa could not keep her eyes from flying open as the power seemed to fill her to overflowing.

Drawing her hand back, she took a deep breath. She could feel the energy coursing through her, just waiting for her to use it. She wondered if this was the kind of power a real magician must feel all the time. It was almost as invigorating as her dream-flights with the ravens.

Energy or not, this place was supposed to be haunted, Teresa remembered. Stepping behind one of the columns to hide herself, she peered out into the ruins around her. Only broken stone greeted her eyes however, and she quietly moved around the colonnade and continued to scan for danger. Eventually she was rewarded with the sight of two small tents, each just barely large enough for one person to sleep under, a few stools, and an old campfire.

Creeping down from the magical well, the wood elf set her feet to good, solid nirn once more and laid an arrow upon the nock of her bow. The only sound that came to her ears was the lapping of waves and the low buzzing of cicadas. Nothing moved in the night before her, and she stepped forward into the campsite.

This might have been the fire she had seen when she exited the prison, the wood elf imagined. It was near the shore, and not hidden behind the stones of the ruin. Yet she could see that the fire had long since gone cold, as there was not even an ember remaining in its dark coals.

That is when she saw the lump of a body sprawled across the grass nearby, and small cloud of flies buzzing around it. Moving over to it, Teresa found that it was a dead Redguard woman, wearing armor made from animal hides. Her skin - which should have been dark - was pale instead, and Teresa could plainly see the dark lines of veins against it. A bow was still gripped tightly in her dead hand, and a great gash had been hacked into her chest, running down at an angle from where her shoulder and neck met.

Another Redguard lay nearby, this one a man with a short, neatly-trimmed beard. A bronze-colored mace lay near his stiff fingers, and his head was neatly split in two. She found that the pouches on both their belts were empty, although several empty potion bottles lay at their feet. A sweet smell came off of both of them, like from a pile rotting fruit. The stench clung to the back of the wood elf's throat like mold, and she had to fight the urge to gag as she stepped away to clearer air.

They were bandits, the wood elf thought, her cautious eyes casting to and fro. But what had killed them? Their weapons were still at hand and armor on their bodies. If other outlaws had done the deed, they would have stripped the corpses, likewise with the Imperial Legion. If it had been animals, would they not have eaten the bodies? A bear or mountain lion would leave claw and bite marks, she thought. The bandits looked more like they had been hacked with a cleaver, or maybe an axe.

"The Daedra did it they say!" she heard the voice of the carter in her memory. A chill ran along the wood elf's spine, and she resisted the urge to whimper in the darkness. Did Daedra loot bodies? she wondered, would they care about mortal coins or weapons? Probably not, she imagined.

She should go, the forester thought. Whatever had happened here, it was none of her business. If there were Daedra around, the last thing on Nirn she wanted to do was meet them.

Yet something about the white stone of the ruin called to her. It was not as strong as the way the forest beckoned her, nor nearly as comforting. Yet it was there the same. She could not explain why, but something about this place almost seemed familiar. Maybe it was just the magicka flowing through her veins from the Ayleid well. Or maybe it was something else. Teresa did not know what it was, but if she had learned anything since meeting the Emperor, it was to not ignore her intuition any more.

With that in mind, she moved from the shadows of the broken walls and continued through the ruins. Just a quarter turn around the circle of the complex, she found that the ground sloped down sharply. More broken arches and scattered flagstones led down that way, nearly to the edge of the lake itself. Looking back to the center of the ruin, Teresa found a square double-door of stone set within a small building that jutted from the base of the hill, underneath the Ayleid well.

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She could see a semicircle cut into the surface of each door, set opposite one another so that together they formed a circle. It looked like handles of some sort had been set within the grooves. But they were long gone now. Laying her bow down, Teresa set her fingers in the deep indentations and pulled.

With a grating of stone against stone, the doors slid aside. It was much easier than the forester had expected. As if the doors were not made of stone at all, but something much lighter. Lowering the Night Eye goggles down over her features, Teresa crept onto the stair she found leading down into the bowels of Nirn.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Jul 30 2020, 01:38 AM