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

[Destri Melarg]

Chapter 25.6 – Unfriendly Competition

Grits already spoke my thought about the day old loincloth!

I like the consideration given to the effective use of shield and night eye potions. The scene in which Dreth removes the woman’s tooth certainly had the desired effect! I can’t imagine that the thug in 'off the rack' plate would be eager to surrender to the hulking form in linen claiming to be Imperial Legion. Vols will definitely have to open up that proverbial can!

I spotted a couple of small things:

Volsinius paid the horses and the caretakers little note however, and continued on his way. Before him the ground sloped down to the lake, where the great western bridge crossed its gentle waves. He turned off the road to the right however, and made his way across a smaller cobblestone path that hugged the western edge of the horse pastures.

I don’t think you need the repetition of the word however, but it isn't too jarring.

As the sun vanished completely, he paused to dig another potion from the pouch at his belt . . . Only Magnus – now a dull red – still managed to cling to his color.

Here I think you need to change ‘vanished completely’, otherwise, it doesn’t make sense that Vols can still see the sun (unless we are talking about the penumbra of sunlight).

Chapter 25.7 – Unfriendly Competition

Even to the last, Dreth proves himself to be a backstabbing little coward whose bark is much worse than his bite! At least he lasted longer than his companion, whose soul even now is standing before the barred gates of Sovngarde being laughed at! Volsinius shows us why he earned the Grass Crown.

The fight against the necromancer is great so far. I love being in Vols’ head for thoughts on the lack of ease in which one can engage a necromancer. And, as ever, thoughts of Simplicia intrude upon the moment.

[Acadian]

A smoothly written and gritty combat sequence that screams of Vols years of experience. Yay Vols! He showed 'em. I was pleased to see Vols display a knowledge of basic healing spells - a wise precaution for any warrior.

Just when we thought we could slow our breathing . . . What a surprising twist the entrance of the Necromancer was - although it makes perfect sense after all. You have beautifully shown why both necromancers and conjurors can be so deadly if they get even the slightest opportunity to start tossing magic around. And why they are so cocky. Your descriptions of magic use were captivating.

I know what Buffy would do here. . . but somehow I just don't see Vols peeing himself.

Vols' ruminations in the midst of combat clearly show he has a severe case of 'Simpliciaitis'


Nit?
'Volsinius neatly side-stepped the lunge, bringing his left arm down on Nord's blade and pinning it to his side.'
I suspect you mean 'on the Nord's'.

This post has been edited by Acadian: Dec 14 2010, 02:54 AM

[hazmick]

Just when I thought this story couldn't get any more intense, a Necromancer shows up! It's so great! Volsinius is awesome, his feelings for Simplicia keep him going and it's brilliant. More soon I hope!

[SubRosa]

D.Foxy: Sorry Cliff. If I had put the last two segments and this one in a single post it would be over 5,000 words.


mALX: And he has not just killed them, but murdered those two men for Simplicia. Neither one was able to offer any resistance. Now if he was smart he'd bring her their hearts as a wedding present...


Thomas Kaira: Well, Vols did start out with the intention of taking Dreth alive. Hence his punching him and knocking him upside the head rather than running the dark elf through right off the bat. But once it looked like Simplicia might be dragged into an investigation, well, Vols was not about to let that happen. The armored thug was simply too well armed and armored for him to even consider taking him alive.


Destri Melarg: One can opened. You called it on Dreth way back in Old Friends, Not Forgotten. A decade of languishing in the dungeon would not have made him stronger, but weaker. The new Dreth is just a skinny, shaking shadow of his former manic self. Crazy enough to push around pudgy shopkeepers, but not a real, straight up threat to to a seasoned fighter.

Good eye on both nits. I have gone back and changed things to fix things.


Acadian: Looks like Vols scared off that Nord's "the"! Thank you for rounding it up and helping me put it back in formation.

Vols' healing spell was a result of the world-building in the Battle of Bruma, where I had all the legionaries using a simple one. I am sure he would have been using it between scenes during the Crisis, but being a novice he would have only been good for one or two castings before being out of magicka.

Oh Buffy would not pee herself over a simple necromancer. She would cast a combination summon clannfear/invisiblity. Then think over her options while Spike dealt with Bones. Then she would prep an arrow with a silence poison (and likely four other ones too), and killed the nec with a single bowshot.


hazmick: The necromancer was a natural outgrowth of Dreth's activities. Since he is already breaking into graves and stealing the valuables within, why not sell the corpses along with their clothing and jewels? It also gave me a good way of tying in the future necromancer arc. Plus it gave me a little surprise in what is otherwise a rather well-known quest.


Next: In our previous episode Vols killed Dreth and his henchman, only to find himself beset by a necromancer. Next we will discover that Methredhel has not been idle since delivering Dreth's ledger to Simplicia.


Chapter 25.8 – Unfriendly Competition

Methredhel pushed the iron grate up with all the strength in her arm. By Nocturnal, why did they have to make those things so blasted heavy? she thought as she shoved it aside and clambered out of the storm drain that ran beneath the necropolis. She had traded her Redguard outfit for more utilitarian leather armor, along with a dark hood and a cloth to mask her face from the nose down. An arrow bag hung at her right hip, and her curved elven dagger from the other. With a strung longbow in one hand, she scampered through the city of the dead until she found the tomb of the Albinus matron. Then she found an out of the way spot and waited.

A half-hour dragged by before the Dunmer appeared with an armored companion. Methredhel could not put her finger on it, but something about him seemed familiar. She was certain that she had seen him before somewhere. But she could not place his face…

Soon afterward they were joined by a robed man riding a cart. He came not from the southern entrance of the necropolis, but from the north. That meant he either came from the Market Gate, Methredhel imagined, or from completely outside of the city. From somewhere in the wilds on the north side of the City Isle perhaps? Teresa had said it was all wilderness up there after all.

The robed man passed his hand over the door with a flash of golden light, and a moment later the three entered the tomb. An unlocking spell, the wood elf realized. One of these days she would have to try learning that. Still, lock picks were more artistic, she mused, they required skill and dexterity. Anyone could wave a hand and throw magic around. It took real talent to do it the old-fashioned way like she did.

Still, magic had its uses, and with that thought Methredhel gathered up her own energy and cast a Detect Life spell. Creeping forward, she came to a halt as soon as the three pink glows of the grave-robbers sprang into view through the stone walls of the mausoleum. She stopped and backed up until they slipped out of range once more.

The mage might be using a Detect Life of his own, she knew. At a full sixty feet, not many could match the distance of her spell. But just in case, this way he would not see her. She moved a bit to her left, so that anyone entering or leaving the mausoleum would move into range of her spell. Then she waited, recasting her spell every ten minutes to keep it continually active.

A fourth person came along by the time the sun had vanished over the horizon. Ducking behind a wall so she could not be seen, Methredhel used her spell to track him. He moved slowly, and did not make a sound as he crept up to the tomb. After pausing a moment at the cart, he went inside. Then a shout came from within the tomb, and the sound of weapons followed.

Damn, that was the Imperial Legion alright, she thought. But only one of them? Looking around, the necropolis showed no more pink glows that told of the magicka which all spirits possessed. Nor did any other sounds come to her ears, except of course the clanging of metal and screams from within the tomb.

Methredhel gritted her teeth. What in Oblivion was she going to do now? Simplicia's plan would unravel if Dreth and the others got away. Methredhel had expected that the soldier Simplicia had spoken to would bring others with him, not come alone. Did he have a death wish? Or did he not want anyone else in the legion knowing what was going on?

The flash of lightning burst from the open doorway, and Methredhel cursed under her breath. Peering around the corner of the tomb she hid behind, she saw Fox silhouetted against the opening of the Albinus mausoleum. The spirit guide had no pink glow, but Methredhel knew she was real none-the less. As she watched, Fox looked directly at her, then walked into the open doorway of the tomb.

Well, she had brought her bow for a reason after all… Drawing a bronze-tipped arrow from the bag at her hip, the thief set the Dwemer missile to her nock and stepped to the doorway with light feet. Only three pink glows remained within the torchlit mausoleum. Through the glowing haze of her spell that shrouded the nearest, she could see it was the man in the robe. Across the room was a skeleton wielding a bronze longsword, which it was using with great skill against a towering human. He was a Nord from his muscular build and the blond stubble that crowned his head. A patch covered his left eye, and a mithril sword was clutched in his right hand. As she watched, the soldier parried a blow of the skeleton's long blade, then kicked the undead creature in the ribs, snapping one in half and causing it to stagger back for a moment.

It was indeed the same soldier that Simplicia had talked to after leaving Jensine's shop, Methredhel thought. She could tell that even though the pink glow her Detect Life spell covered him in. He was easy to spot, given the eyepatch and burn scars that covered the side of his face. That jogged a memory of the screaming fight between Teresa and Methredhel. "He looks like he fell asleep in the fire!" Adanrel had taunted. What had Teresa said? "…his face burned off!"

So this was Teresa's legionary, Methredhel thought, the one who had saved her life - and Simplicia's - during the Crisis. Damn, Methredhel cursed once more. Of all the soldiers, it had to be him. She prayed to Nocturnal that no one in the Thieves Guild ever learned what she was about to do, and pulled her bow back to half tension.

Letting out half the air in her lungs, she sighted in on the magician. Sparks now grew from his fingers, and he lifted his hand toward the legionary. Pulling the string back to her cheek, the wood elf loosed her arrow. The golden light of a Shield enchantment flashed as it struck home. But the magician's body still snapped forward as the Dwemer missile plunged into his back.

Lightning flew from the magician's hand and scorched into one of the walls. He fell to his hands and knees, coughing up blood. With shaking fingers Methredhel yanked another arrow from the bag at her hip and set it to the nock. This wasn't at all like shooting at a straw target, she thought with a pounding heart. If she missed, she would be dead in seconds.

The magician staggered to his feet and turned to face her. Then the soft feathers of her arrow tickled Methredhel's cheek. A moment later it was in flight, piercing the magician's Shield enchantment as it had before.

The sorcerer crumpled like a sack of wet potatoes with the arrow embedded in his chest, just slightly left of center. The skeleton vanished with a swirl of purple energy, leaving only Methredhel and the soldier in the tomb.

"Teresa, is that you?" the legionary's voice came through ragged breaths. He stepped closer, sword still at the ready. She knew that she was still swathed in darkness. But in a moment he would be close enough to see her in spite of that.

Picturing Secunda passing behind Masser, Methredhel called up her magicka. Letting the energy flow through that image, she vanished just as surely as the small moon disappeared behind the shadow of the larger.

Let him think it was Teresa, the thief prayed as she scampered for the sewer grate. Or at least let him wonder who it really was. Just so long as no one ever learned that she had saved the life of a legionary!

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Dec 16 2010, 02:06 AM

[hazmick]

Methredhel is awesome! Magicka and a bow?! She should become Teresa's sidekick.

Anyway, this chapter was great, you did a wonderful job of describing the necropolis from a different perspective and that Necromancer was no match for a Nord and a Bosmer.

[mALX]

Getting the set-up of everything from Methredhel's perspective outside the tomb was inspired - and like her, I was surprised to see her saving Vols - Awesome Write !!!

RE: your comment response - Nothing says love like murder, ROFL !!

[Thomas Kaira]

And Vols has a new guardian angel! That was a very noble action for Methredhel; and who said there was no honor among thieves?.

The robed man passed his hand over the door with a flash of golden light, and a moment later the three entered the tomb. An unlocking spell, the wood elf realized. One of these days she would have to try learning that. Still, lock picks were more artistic, she mused, they required skill and dexterity. Anyone could wave a hand and throw magic around. It took real talent to do it the old-fashioned way like she did.

Yeah, yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night, eh?

Still, old habits die hard, and it draws less attention not having the door flashing different colors, so I can see your point.

Nit?

Picturing Secunda passing behind Masser, Methredhel called up her magicka. Letting the energy flow through that image, she vanished just as surely as the small moon disappeared behind the shadow of the larger

Secunda is actually in front of Masser (very easy detail to miss, and I'll totally understand if you decide against changing it).

This post has been edited by Thomas Kaira: Dec 16 2010, 02:27 AM

[Destri Melarg]

First Teresa and now Methredhel, Adanrel seems to be losing all of her friends to the Imperial Legion! I wonder what she would make of Methredhel’s actions.

The emotional complexity of this chapter was just great. First Simplicia, now Vols. Despite her own vested interest, Methredhel can’t help but act on Teresa’s behalf. That is a bond of love that is far more binding than mere words. I am sure that when Teresa hears of her ‘intervention’ from Vols, she will immediately know whose hand really wielded the bow. After all, Methredhel did teach her to shoot, if memory serves.

[Olen]

Exciting last couple of parts. The contrast between the fight against the thug and Dreth and that with the necromancer was well done and shows how much more dangerous some enemies are than others. And the necromancer himself was certainly an unexpected addition, but quite a natural one.

And then the combination of loyalties here is, as Destri said, complex. So Vols kills for Simplicia who still holds a grude against him, though she trusts him enough to ask his help, Meth dislikes all the legion but will help him anonymously for Teresa who is unwittingly in the certre of this web and safely out the way. Very intricate and realistic.

And perhaps not a cliffy but there's pleanty of unanswered questions I want to see the resolution to

One phrase which seemed a bit off:
sack of wet potatoes - wet stuck me as strange, do sacks of potatoes behave differently when wet?

[Acadian]

This was brilliant! Ending the last episode in the middle of action from Vols' pov, only to open this from Methredhel's pov was so wonderfully effective and clever!

That her fox does not emit any pink glow was a wonderful observation!

I enjoyed Meth's take on lockpicks and her use of detect life spells. I quite liked how she vanished using her special power at the end of the scene!

Two aspects of Meth's archery stood out:
1. She is an accomplished archer and it is clear that she had a strong influence on Teresa's ability and style with a bow.
2. She is not used to combat archery and having to shoot under pressure to survive - like Teresa now is.

So. . . little Methie is another who would stand up and lie, "I'm not a hero!" Seriously, the way you portray her is so very Methredhel. You have developed her to the point that her logic and actions make perfect sense from her perspective.

Nit:
'As she watched, the soldier parried a bow of the skeleton's long blade, then kicked the undead creature in the ribs, snapping one in half and causing it to stagger back for a moment.'
I think you meant blow instead of bow here?

[SubRosa]

hazmick: Teresa would love to explore the wilds of Cyrodiil with Methredhel at her side. Sadly, as we saw in Old Friends, Not Forgotten, Methie is a city girl at heart.


mALX: There has been a lot of pov shifts in this chapter. In this case it was necessary to write this part from Methredhel's perspective, because if I had stayed with Vols the entire scene it would have left too many unanswered questions about who the mysterious archer was who shows up and shoots the necromancer.


Thomas Kaira: I did not know that Secunda was closer in orbit than Masser. It doesn't really say anything on the wiki page about the moons. I think I am going to keep it this way, as otherwise I would have to come up with another explanation for why the Moonshadow power gets its name. To be honest, the two moons in ES is something I hate, because I understand how our one moon works, and know the mythology associated with it. With two moons, all that goes out the window.


Destri Melarg: If Adanrel ever found out, I imagine Methie would get the same treatment as Teresa! You definitely nailed it on all the character's motivations. Each of them has a strong emotional bond somewhere that drives them. That is one of the reasons I really enjoyed this chapter. Once you have characters with well-established relationships, it makes it possible to use them to drive the story. Much better than a merchant hires a stranger to investigate a shady businessman.


Olen: One of the reasons I did not hesitate to write this chapter, even though it is sans Teresa, is that throughout it we continue to see her as a uniting force behind the three main characters. I am still uncertain about writing a Morcant-only chapter because that will not be the case.

The "sack of wet potatoes" is an Americanism I think. Possibly because if it is wet, it is heavier? In any case, I have heard it enough times that it just spat out of my keyboard as I was writing.


Acadian: Indeed, Methredhel is the one who taught Teresa to shoot a bow. As your keen eye noted, Methie is not used to shooting people however, where Teresa now is. In fact, I imagine this is the first time she has ever killed anyone. She would most definitely deny being a hero! It would be bad for her reputation after all!

Looks like the King of Worms appropriated the Skeleton Hero's "L", thanks for conjuring it up for me.


Next: Our previous episode saw the necromancer slain by Methredhel, who vanished before Vols could learn her identity. Next we wrap up this chapter as Simplicia confronts Thoronir.


Chapter 25.9 – Unfriendly Competition

"What's wrong Thoronir, didn't get much sleep last night?" Simplicia asked with a smile.

"Oh, I suppose I was up late," the pudgy Bosmer replied with a yawn. He stared across his counter at the old woman, and she could see the light of recognition dawn in his eyes. "Hey, you're Simplicia. You work for that Jensine don't you?"

"That's right," the aged Imperial leaned across the counter in the back of The Copius Coinpurse. "I wasn't expecting you to be up so early this morning. What with you meeting Dreth at midnight. But then he never showed, did he?"

The fat wood elf's eyes became wide as saucers, and his jaw nearly fell to the top of the counter. "How…, I…, what?..." he sputtered.

"Oh I know all about that," Simplicia smiled once more. "But you probably don't want anyone else knowing do you?" The Imperial paused to look back and forth around the interior of the shop. Even as early as eight bells, there were already half-a-dozen shoppers within.

"Ummm, let's talk somewhere more, private." With a trembling hand the Bosmer motioned Simplicia to follow him behind the counter and into a storeroom. The old Imperial took her time lumbering after the elf, and took care not to step all the way into the room. Instead she remained in the doorway, still in plain view of the other people in the shop.

"You sure get a lot of customers," Simplicia noted dryly. "But I guess with prices as low as yours, most people think shopping here is a steal."

"Listen, I don't know what you've heard, but I assure you that it's not-"

"Plug it fatso," Simplicia declared with a wave of her hand. "Play dumb with me and I'll go straight to the Imperial Legion. I know all about your little deal with Dreth. How he was robbing tombs and selling you everything inside. Did he tell you that he was selling the corpses to a necromancer too? I am sure a magistrate would love to hear about your involvement in that."

"Oh good gods!" the shopkeeper groaned, and his eyes somehow grew even wider. "You have to believe me, I didn't know what he was doing, or where it all came from. I swear! He came to me one day and said he had goods on the cheap, so I bought them."

"I'm not stupid, and neither is the legion," Simplicia declared, making as if to leave.

"Wait!" the Bosmer pleaded. "I only came here from Valenwood a few months ago. I always dreamed about the Imperial City. Everyone talks about how big and grand it is. The center of culture in Tamriel! And it is! But things are so different here from back home. I still don't know how you Imperial's do things here in Cyrodiil. So when Dreth came to me at first I believed him. By the time I started to suspect, it was too late. He's a madman! He would have killed me if I tried to back out, or tell the legion. He'll kill you too if you cross him."

"He won't be killing anyone," Simplicia said. "Not with his head split open like ripe melon.

"What?" the Bosmer said, looking genuinely relieved. "You mean he's dead?"

"The Imperial Legion caught him in the act last night," Simplicia said. "He put up a fight. They killed him. But they didn't get his ledger."

"His what?" the wood elf blinked, "what ledger?"

"He recorded every sale he made to you." Simplicia drew forth Dreth's ledger and held it open. "He has every tomb he plundered, everything he took described in detail, and every reman you paid for it all. If a magistrate sees this, you'll be going to prison for a long time."

"Wait, give me that!" the Bosmer reached out for the book.

But Simplicia was ready for him. Snapping the book shut, she clutched it to her breast and stepped back fully into the front of the shop.

"One more step and I scream," she cautioned, "then everyone will find out."

The wood elf's shoulders slumped, and Simplicia almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

"Alright, if you haven't turned me in yet, what is it you want from me?" he sighed.

"A Thief's Bag," the old woman declared.

"A what?" the shopkeeper frowned, "what's that?"

"It's a bag with a Feather enchantment," Simplicia explained, "and its bigger on the inside than the outside. Thieves use them so they can steal more."

"You mean a Bag of Holding? But something like that will cost a fortune!" the Bosmer cried. "I'm just a struggling shopkeeper. I'm not rich!"

"You'll manage," Simplicia declared. "Just raise you prices. Say to the same as Jensine's?"

"Okay, okay," the Bosmer held up his hands in defeat. "Just give me some time to get the money together."

"I'll be back in one week," Simplicia said. "Give me the bag, and I'll give you the ledger. Otherwise I'm going to leave it under a magistrate's pillow."

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Dec 18 2010, 03:03 AM

[mALX]

This chapter has to be added to my favorites - Awesome Write !!! I was tickled to see your version of Thoronir - after the original denial, admitting knowledge of where the goods came from.

In game that quest irked me, because if you listen to the conversation between Agamir and Thoronir - it is obvious Thoronir did know something. Then when you confront him and he denies it, you are supposed to believe him - and not believe your own eyes and ears. - always bothered me that his denial was accepted, your version makes much more sense.

Next, Simplicia. I think Methredhel is about to get a nice thank you present. - Your portrayal of any of your characters is great, but with Teresa and Simplicia you take that gift to much greater heights and depths. There is no way anyone is not jumping on their seats and rooting for Simplicia through this questline - Awesome Write !!!

There were too many places I loved in here to quote !!! Simplicia, that ledger, and Thoronir - that whole section could be one huge quote - AWESOME !!!!

This post has been edited by mALX: Dec 17 2010, 05:59 PM

[hazmick]

Simplicia was amazing! Thoronir better do what he's told.

Great write, more soon please!

[Destri Melarg]

So Simplicia is not above a touch of blackmail, eh? I like how she maintained her awareness in the shop, and kept in full view of witnesses. I also love how her motivations are not strictly altruistic. It is easy to see how she managed to survive (and raise a tiny Wood Elf) for all those years on the street. Assuming that the bag is for Methredhel, it seems as if Simplicia is finally ready to bury the hatchet. Nothing says thank you like ‘I may not condone what you do, but here’s something to help you do it better.’ Teresa won’t be the only one with stories to tell when they are reunited.

[Thomas Kaira]

(On the topic of the moons)

It's a lot easier to notice that in Morrowind, actually. In Oblivion, you rarely see both moons in the night sky together at all, about 80% of the time, it's just Masser.

(Back on topic)

This version of Unfriendly Competition was much more convincing than the one in the game. In game all that happened here was you show him the ledger and he responds with a simple "Oops! Well, better not do that again, eh? " Now we can actually see emotions at play and relate to him as he realizes his misdeeds, and the build-up was wonderful!

"You sure get a lot of customers," Simplicia noted dryly. "But I guess with prices as low as yours, most people think shopping here is a steal."

*rimshot*

Sorry, I'll stop that now. Hearing all these bad puns must just sting.

(Thomas Kaira has been carried away by the joke police)

This post has been edited by Thomas Kaira: Dec 18 2010, 12:58 AM

[Acadian]

Simplicia really shows us her street smarts here. The interaction with Thoronir was perfect, and Simplica played him superbly.

Recalling Simplicia's dressing down of Methie's 'virginal virtue' in Jensine's shop, then seeing her plug old fatso here demonstrates that the sharpness of Simplicia's tongue can match her wit when she's of such a mind.

The Thief's Bag is a wonderful idea. While I agree with others who suspect Methie is the intended recipient, I don't completely rule out that Simplicia might consider it for her adventurous little Teresa to ease her burden.

Speaking of Teresa - while we of course miss her, this is such a delightful detour into a familiar, but much enriched quest. I know you will not keep us away from Teresa for too long. And as you say, she is fully present, if not in person in this storyline.

The romantic in me yearns for more closure between Simplicia and Vols, but I am delighted to read where you take me.

[SubRosa]

mALX: One of the downsides to Oblivion is that many of the quests only have one or two ways of playing out. Here there is no way of fingering Thoronir. Or for that matter, just going to the Imperial Watch when you find out what is going on and having them take care of Agarmir (which seems like the obvious solution. You could just walk up to one of the gate guards and say "hey, there's someone robbing that grave over there!").

On the other hand, I can definitely say that Methredhel is not getting that bag.


hazmick: Simplicia really struts her stuff here, and shows all of her street smarts. A far cry from the kindly old "Aunt May" she may have seemed in the earlier chapters, when we were seeing her through Teresa's eyes.


Destri Melarg: Simplicia is definitely not above blackmail! As a former prostitute, former drug addict, and former homeless beggar, there is not much she is above. She may be ready to bury the hatchet however. It is certainly harder for her not to after Methie doing her such a good turn, especially when as you say, Teresa is regaled on this story!


Thomas Kaira: I tried to portray Thoronir as essentially a regular guy who got in way over his head. Something that happens all too often with tragic results IRL. I am glad it feels convincing.


Acadian: I see another person thinking that the bag is probably for Methie. I am thinking it is because I called it a Thief's Bag, which would be the slang term that street people like Simplicia would use for a Bag of Holding. I went back and put in "Bag of Holding" in one spot in the hopes of making it seem like something that people other than thieves would use.

I am not sure how much closure, if any, we will ever see between Vols and Simplicia. Just as IRL, things do not always end happily in the TF.


All: I took a word count of all the TF up to chapter 30, which is as far as I have written, and it is 250,221 words. A quarter million words. I never imagined I would ever write so much about any character. In fact it is probably more than everything else I have ever written in my life all put together. I can definitely say has been great practice. When I go back to edit the early chapters I wrote, I can see the difference it has made.


Next: The previous chapter saw Simplicia investigate and stop a grave-robber in the Imperial City, saving her own job in the process and being helped by Methredhel and Volsinius. Now we shift our focus back to the stringy Bosmer as she makes her way to Bravil.


Chapter 26.1 – The Fighter

24th Last Seed, 3E433

The faint gurgling of water came to Teresa's ears as she made her way through the forest. It was a river, she thought, hopefully the Larsius. That was the only waterway her map showed in the Nibenay Valley. She followed the direction of the sound. She knew that no matter what river it was, it would eventually lead her to the Niben, and that in turn to Bravil.

The forester still took the time to move quietly however, scanning the underbrush in every direction as she moved from tree to tree. She had not seen a trace of outlaws during her journey from The Faregyl Inn. Still, her encounter on the shores of Lake Rumare was never far from her mind.

The sight of a familiar plant gave her pause however. Its green stem rose high from the ground, nearly to her knees. Several flowers sprouted from the trunk and drooped down from their weight. Each bore a brilliant yellow beak that protruded from its center, with slender purple leaves radiating in a star around it.

Ahh, my old friend nightshade, Teresa thought with a faint smile, so good to see you again.

She produced a small trowel and began digging up its roots. She knew that they were the most poisonous part of the plant. Those she tucked away in a small bag with other nightshade roots, and then packed that into a larger sack filled with other alchemical ingredients. When she was finished she took the seeds from the flower bulbs and buried them in the soil around the spot. Then she was off through the woods again, once more looking carefully for any signs of trouble.

The moist smell of water came to her nose in no time at all, and the ground began to gently slope down before her. However, she paused several times to harvest more plants. First was mandrake. Those would be handy if she came down with something, or would fetch a good price. There was always a demand for Cure Disease potions after all. Then there was lavender, which she knew was good for Healing potions, not to mention smelling wonderful.

Then Teresa was on her way again, slowly making her way through the forest. In time she came upon a river, over a hundred feet wide, slowly meandering to her left. Glancing to the right, she could see that the ground sloped up to a range of low mountains. That must be where the river's headwaters were, she imagined.

The range was nothing compared to the Jerall Mountains north of Cheydinhal and Bruma. Even at their highest, these peaks were crowned by green trees, and bore not even a hint of snow. She imagined that she could climb them without the need of picks, crampons, or ropes. Rather it looked as if she could just walk right up them. She resolved to come back after she discovered Bravil, and find out.

Following the river downstream for the rest of the day, Teresa continued to gather plants. She saw no signs of civilization, which suited her just fine. It was just her, the trees, and the many animals of the forest. Deer, wild pigs, foxes, raccoons, and others prowled the riverbanks. Once she saw a grizzly bear eating a fish next to the water's edge. This she gave a wide berth, even though it paid her no heed at all. Petting a summoned bear was one thing, but a wild one still gave the wood elf pause.

In the water itself Teresa found beavers working on their dome-shaped lodges of branches, and otters chasing one another in the deeper water in the middle of the river. The latter brought the wood elf more than a faint smile, and on several occasions she stopped to just watch the animals going about their daily lives.

The forester continued on her way the next morning, and noted that the river was flowing into the rising sun. Good, she thought, that meant it was going from west to east, the same as the Larsius did on the map. She also realized that it was now wider than it had been before, and imagined it must be well over two hundred feet across now.

Within a few hours the familiar smell of wood smoke came to her nose. Continuing along the river, Teresa passed a bend in its course. Then she found herself staring across the river at a quaint little village of some thirty or forty homes at the water's edge. They were made of small, carefully-fitted stones and roofed with thatch. A simple wooden fence that was barely chest high surrounded the landward side of the settlement, and the wood elf imagined it was more to keep livestock in than to keep threats out.

The wheel of a mill turned slowly at the water's edge, and Teresa also saw several wooden docks jutting from the shore beside the village. Some had small rowboats tied to them. A few rode the waves in the center of the river, where their two-woman crews cast nets into the water. More people bustled about within the village, and Teresa could see a few stop and point in her direction. Most were women or children, or very old men, and Teresa wondered if the rest of the men were off working somewhere?

Just beyond the village, a graceful stone bridge reached across both banks of the river. Teresa could see that a paved road ran away from it on her side of the water, following the river to the east. While on the opposite bank the cobblestones of the thoroughfare ran directly south, disappearing behind the village.

Behind that, the high, grey stone walls of a major city rose into the sky. Square crenellations dotted the top of the walls like blunt teeth, and numerous towers rose like horns above them. Rising high above all was the needle spire of the chapel, stretching into the blue sky at least three times as high as the walls encircling the city.

That must be Bravil, Teresa thought. It was simply too big to be anything else.

Screenshot

No longer able to resist the temptation of the river, the wood elf plunged into its inviting waves. The water enfolded her in a cool embrace, and the forester began to leisurely swim across its length. Thanks to the Jewel of the Rumare, she had no difficulty, even with the leather armor, pack, bedroll, and bowstave she carried.

Now more of the villagers took notice of her, and several were waiting for her on the riverbank when she emerged from the water beside the village.

"Hey, she's not wet!" a boy who could not be older than six years exclaimed, pointing at Teresa. He had the olive skin, black hair, and dark eyes of a Nibenean, Teresa noted, as did most everyone else in the settlement. Beside him stood a girl who might have been slightly older, also with the same dark eyes and hair.

"Quintis, it's not polite to point," a man with a long grey beard chided the youngster. Tufts of grey hair clung to the side of his head, but his scalp as bare as an egg right down the middle. His face was lined and weather-beaten, and his hands bore the calluses of a laborer. Like the others, he wore simple clothing of worn flax. The same as nearly every other farmer or fisherman that Teresa had encountered in her travels.

"Welcome to Silverbridge," the bearded man continued, now turning to Teresa. "I am Decimus Rabirius, and these are my grandchildren: Quintis and Poppea Silanus. I keep an eye on them while their father and older brothers work in the fields."

"Greetings Decimus. You have a beautiful village here," the wood elf smiled faintly. Putting her hands on her knees, she squatted down so that she was at eye level with the children, and looked at each in turn. "Well met Quintis, Poppea. My name is Teresa. I'm a forester. I just walked down from the Imperial City."

"You have pretty hair," Poppea declared. "But how come you're not wet?"

"It's magic," Teresa answered. "A fisherman once gave me a ring that lets me breathe underwater, and keeps me dry as well. That way my leather does not get ruined. I have to take it off so I can take a bath though."

"Now that's a handy trick," the old man observed. "You're the most exciting thing we've had around here since Gaius Varro found a silver nugget in the river the other week."

"Oh, I'm hardly that interesting," Teresa felt a familiar warmth blossom on her cheeks. "I'm just an ordinary elf. Did your village get its name because there's silver in the river?"

"There used to be," the old man explained. "But that was a long time ago. There was a big mine further upriver. It all played out about two decades ago though. Afterward all us miner's left, or settled down here and became farmers. Once in a blue moon someone still pulls a lump of silver out of the river, but it's not worth the effort if that's what you're thinking."

"Oh no," Teresa breathed, realizing that she was probably sounding like a greedy outsider. "I'm looking for Bravil. That's it behind the village right? I have some plants to mix up into potions, and a mage from the guild to see."

"Aye, Bravil it is lass," the old man replied. "So it's a magician you are then? You looked more of a hunter or trapper."

"Oh no, I would never hurt any animals," Teresa exclaimed. "I just gather plants. I am an archer though, and I know how to mix up potions is all."

"What kind of forester doesn't kill animals?" the boy asked.

"The kind that loves them too much," Teresa answered without thinking. "The animals are my friends. You wouldn't hurt your friends would you."

"But you carry a bow," the girl observed. "What's that for then?"

"For the times when others want to hurt me," Teresa stated plainly.

"And that is how it should be," the old man nodded sagely. "Always greet others with kindness and hospitality, and be prepared in case they don't return the favor. Then he set his hands upon the shoulders of the children. "Come now, let's not bother the kind woman any further and allow her to be on her way."

"Oh it's okay," Teresa smiled faintly once more. "I like meeting good-hearted folk, especially when they live close to the land, as you do here. I really should get to the city for now though. Maybe I'll come by tomorrow, or the day after, and Poppea and Quintis can try out my ring?"

"Oh can I!" Both children nearly leapt at once, and the old man barely restrained them from tackling Teresa.

"Why not?" he said. "We can catch some fish in the river, and all have lunch together. How does that sound ma'am?"

"That sounds wonderful," Teresa breathed. Mara above, she thought, what a lovely village Silverbridge was. She had only been there a few minutes, and was already making friends.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: May 27 2011, 05:19 PM

[hazmick]

Beautifully done 'Rosa. I think you may have just summed up the reasons why I love Oblivion: the beautiful scenery, kind-hearted folk and the sense of adventure. Silverbridge is wonderful, as are the residents which you have brought to life so quickly and amazingly! Bravo!

I hope Teresa will return to Silverbridge soon and give us some more of those beautiful screenshots!

[Olen]

Great stuff.

25.9 - well that I didn't see coming: blackmail from Simplicia. She showed some inner steel (and nastiness) there and that she is willing to do distinctly morally grey things to help Teresa, for whom I guess the bag is meant for. Still it does entirly make sense, with her background and success in rasing Teresa she must be tough but before we'd only seen her motherly side through Teresa's eyes.

26.1 - I liked the world building in this part. Gathering the plant gave a glimpse into what she spends her time doing without bogging anything down. I liked the nod towards the differnt parts of the plant having different properties, it adds more realism. Another nice realistic touch was that she doesn't really know where she is, the maps aren't going to be that great and I notice there aren't compasses so it makes sense, like so many other little touches in this. And Silverbridge sounds like a lovely place.

I'm very much looking forward to seeing how you portrey Bravil, particularly if Teresa notices anything about a particular statue.

[Acadian]

*contented sigh* This was a lovely episode. I'm so glad you kept the name Silverbridge.

When Teresa says she is a forester, you have beautifully and consistently backed that up throughout TF. Why in this episode alone, she can be seen giving a wide berth to the grizzly, happily watching the beaver and otters, and carefully harvesting the ingredients she needs, even while replanting the seeds.

That is indeed a handy ring she has!

I so hope Teresa enjoys her time in and near Bravil.