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

[Acadian]

‘She shivered as the cold air bit through her clothing like an ice troll's fangs. A frost resistance potion took care of that however.’
What a delightful metaphor! And I see Aela’s in need of a resist frost toe ring from Jerric and Co.

"Oh look, it's not locked anymore," the spy winked.’
Yay for unwarding spells. By not touching a lockpick, Mael reveals himself to be a self-respecting mage!

"They won't see a thing," Methredhel smiled. She stepped back into the shadows under one of the vats, and vanished into thin air.’
Methie shows off her wonderful Shadow birthsign and/or her super duper sneakiness.

Woot! Aela and Ungarion give us a show of TES style ‘less than lethal’ force! A nicely done and colorful display.

Aela’s doing a good job showing us the disparate skills of this gang as the op actually gets underway!

[Grits]

What a fun reminiscence about good times in Cheydinhal. I liked hearing a little of Aela’s past. It makes me wonder if she will want to return to her hermit’s life on mudcrab island after she’s spent some time with friends.

I just love Methredhel’s vanishing act that keeps a bit of mystery as to exactly how she did it.

Neat how the mages’ sleep spells were different. What a fun caper!

[McBadgere]

The thing that I loved with that, was that, to start with, Aela came across as this mysterious two-spirit witch type...Then she helps her most bestest friend do his make-up and it's all girly-girly-gossing and all that... ...

I did absolutely love this episode though, so much brilliance...

"That you Jalbert?" Ungarion called out in a soft voice.

"Who do you bloody well think it is Drels, the Saturalia Fairy?"

...

Loved the way they took the people down with the absorb spells...Nicely done that...They're searchers, not slayers...Yes...

OOoh, talking of slayers...For some reason, the make-up thing for Ungarion made me think of Lorne from Angel (Bless Andy Hallett )...

*Robert does the dance of appreciation of a decent tale*...

*Puts back out*...

Damn... ...

Aaaamywho...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily yet carefully*...

I'll be over here...Urgh...

[SubRosa]

ghastley: Aela and Ungarion have a lot of history together, so they are a well-oiled machine. Of course Methredhel is Methredhel. It's finders keepers, and she's a pretty good finder. Mael even got a chance to show his stuff with the open lock spell. He has not really done much this story, so I wanted to show that he has some useful talents.


Acadian: Mael is indeed a self-respecting magician. I picture him as sort of a jack of all trades, knowing a little bit of everything.

I purposely wrote Methie's disappearing act to a little vague. I wanted to keep some mystery about her, since we were reading from Aela's perspective.


Grits: I like writing about Aela's past. Especially her past with Ungarion. The two of them are really fun to write together, given the rich and complicated history and emotions they share. Hopefully I will be writing more about them in the future. She may not want to leave her hermit's life on Bawnwatch Island though. One thing that city life brings is people seeing through her female presentation, which makes her uncomfortable to say the least.

One thing I miss in the ES games are the old fashioned sleep spells we had in the old tabletop RPGs. So I sort of drafted the Drain Stamina and Absorb Stamina spells to do the same thing.


McBadgere: Aela and Ungarion's banter at the beginning was a lot of fun. It all just poured out as I wrote. The same with Ungarion and Chance's in character greetings. I was actually channeling Thoronir there, with his "That you, Agamir?" I have done that quest so many times that I swear that greeting is burned into my brain.

Oh wow, I had forgotten all about Lorne from Angel. But once I looked him up, it all came back. I loved him! I agree, he is so much like Ungarion!


Previously On Teresa Of The Faint Smile: In our last episode Aela, Ungarion, Chance, Mael, and Methredhel sneaked into the Samaia Adamus brewery before the workers arrived. While Methie hid, the others wore necromancer disguises and overpowered the employees with sleep spells as they entered. Then they prepared the brewery's wagon for a delivery to the castle.


Chapter 46.5 – Methredhel's Eleven

Magnus was rising above the horizon when Methredhel and Mael trundled up to a city guardsman on the brewery's wagon. Clad in mail armor and wearing a surcoat bearing the green and brown stag emblem of Bravil, the middle-aged Nibenean lounged before the single bridge connecting North Isle to Castle Isle. The clomping of the two massive Shire steeds that drew the wagon sounded like thunder in Methredhel's elfin ears, and she wondered if he might be deaf to not hear them approaching? Or perhaps he was just ignoring the sound? In any case, it was not until the wagon was almost beside him that the guardsman looked up.

"Early day for you folk then?" The Nibenean stared up at Mael, who had divested himself of his necromancer disguise and was now clad in a tunic and trousers of worn flax.

"The count is a thirsty man!" the Breton laughed, "and the Samaia Adamus brewery aims to wet his throat!"

The guardsman nodded as they rolled past and onto the wide bridge that connected the islands. Methredhel glanced down at the water that lapped against the heavy piers which held up the span. She hoped that they were in better condition than the rest of the city! But the bridge did not collapse under the weight of barrel-laden wagon, and moments later they were clomping through the great stone gatehouse that brooded at the far side of the span.

After emerging from the miniature stone fortress, Methredhel had a good look at where the wealthy elite of Bravil lived. For the long road to the castle proper was lined with great stone manors, each sectioned off from one another by high walls and elegantly wrought iron gates. Snob Alley is what Teresa had called it, and Methredhel could see why. Bravil might have been known as a poor city, but you would never have guessed it from looking at the fine patrician estates that lined the avenue.

Now they began to roll by pedestrians on the road. Most were women clad in the same black bodice and skirt layered over a white chemise that Chance had provided her the other day. They stretched out in a ragged line from the gatehouse to the castle. Some of the women walked in small groups, others alone. Sprinkled among them were men clad in similarly colored attire. Methredhel imagined that they must be day workers in the castle as well.

"This is good timing," she said quietly to the Breton sitting beside her. "I should be able to blend in nicely."

The spy nodded as they left the pedestrians behind them and pulled up to the open gates of the castle's gatehouse. Standing there was a single guard, who held up a hand for them to halt. As they rolled to a stop, Methredhel noted that over his mail armor and surcoat he wore a heavy medallion of silver, shaped in the likeness of an eye.

That would be one of the detect life amulets that Kud-Ei had warned her about. The Argonian guild master had related that Fathis Aren had supplied them to all of the guardsmen stationed in key areas, including all of the entrances and exits of the castle. No invisible thief was going to sneak into this fortress.

"Top of the morning to you friend," Mael said as he brought the beefy horses to a halt.

"You're from Samaia Adamus?" The dark-skinned Redguard glanced at the side of the wagon, which was painted with the name of the brewery and a pair of overflowing flasks. "How come I don't recognize you?"

"We just started the other day," Methredhel explained. "They hired us on for the holidays, along with some other folk. Lots of deliveries to make in the next week."

The young man seemed to chew on that, and stared back at Methredhel. Her heart began to beat faster. Was he going to be a problem? Nocturnal save them from overzealous guards! The entire plan would come crashing down if they could not enter the castle.

"Do you know where the service entrance is?" Methredhel realized that she had been holding her breath, and inhaled deeply as Mael nodded his head. "It's across the bailey to the left, just follow that maid there."

The guardsman pointed to a lone woman walking along one side of the keep, and Mael tipped an imaginary hat back at him in thanks. With a cluck, the Breton put the horses in motion once again, and they lurched off across the open space within the castle walls, toward the keep.

It was a massive, rectangular affair of brooding stone. The lower walls were pierced by thin arrow slits, and the larger, higher windows flanked by heavy iron shutters. Clearly it was built to be a fortress first, and a manor second. Methredhel saw a pair of guards standing beside the twin doors of iron-bound oak at the front of the keep. She noted that like the Redguard at the gatehouse, they both wore life detection amulets.

Mael guided the brewery wagon around the side of the keep which the gatehouse guard had indicated. They passed by a smithy set against the curtain wall. Even given the early hour, a man was already hammering away upon a horseshoe at the forge, while a youth worked the bellows nearby.

A stone ramp led up to a pair of open double doors, and Mael drove the wagon directly inside. Within they found a wide chamber whose walls were piled high with all manner of crates, barrels, tools, and other minutia. A single guardsman stood inside, wearing another life detection amulet. He stepped up to them as Mael set the brake to the wagon.

"Delivery from the Samaia Adamus brewery," Mael declared as the man looked up. He jumped down to face the pudgy Colovian, and produced an inventory scroll. "Here's our work order."

"I wasn't expecting anything until tomorrow," the guard said. "But it all looks in order. Let me go sign this for you."

Methredhel smiled as faintly as Teresa ever did, and walked to the back to the wagon. Drawing down the back gate, she reached up to take a small cask of wine into her arms. It was light as a feather in her grip, but she pretended that it weighed far more. Leaning it against her chest, she put the wagon between her and the guard, and walked toward the far end of the room.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Mael following the wide-bellied guard as the other man stepped to a small table and laid the parchment down upon it. The Breton stood in between him and Methredhel as the man picked up a quill and dabbed it into a nearby inkpot. Then Methredhel passed out of the storeroom, and into a wide hallway beyond.

Following the corridor, she counted doors on her left until she reached the fourth one. Opening it, she stepped into a small broom closet. She set down the cask and pried open its top. Within was her maid uniform, complete with shoes. Moving quickly, she stripped off her working class attire and donned the black and white linen. She stuffed her other clothing into the cask when she was finished, sealed it up tightly, and hid it behind a mound of old rags.

Stepping out of the closet, she fell in behind a small cluster of maids walking deeper into the castle. She accompanied them through the great hall, which she noted was empty except for a single guardsman. Here the maids split up, with two going to the back of the hall, two more vanishing into a corridor to the right, and a single woman taking one of the elegant staircases that flanked either side of the room up to the second floor. Methredhel took her time and followed the older woman from a distance. Her high heels clomped on the stone floor, and now she regretted the shoes. As lovely as they were, their hard soles and heels made moving silently impossible.

Once on the second floor, she stepped off the gallery that ringed the main hall, and found herself in a hallway that ran down one side of the keep. With no one else in sight, she lifted a hand in the air and concentrated upon the symbol of her Muffle spell. Channeling her magicka through that image, she opened her fingers with a soft puffing sound. Smiling more than faintly, she sauntered down the hallway without making a sound.

Counting doors once more, she found that the third one led to a circular stair. She climbed it to the highest floor of the keep. When she stepped through the door at the top, she found herself at one end of a long hallway. It was carpeted in red velvet, and the walls were paneled in dark wood. Portraits lined the walls, interspersed with fresh flowers and light stones set into golden niches. However, before she could take more than one step into the corridor Methredhel was confronted by another guard, again wearing a night eye amulet.

"You aren't one of the regular fourth story maids." The middle-aged Breton's eyes narrowed as he looked Methredhel over. "What are you doing here?"

Methredhel let one of her hands wander to her brown hair, and began to lazily curl it around her fingers. She leaned against one hip, and thrust out her small breasts to give them the impression of greater size.

"Oh, this is my first day," Methredhel said in as innocent and naive a voice as she could muster. "My friend Fathis got me this job, and I want to make a good impression. But it's so hard to find everything. I got lost twice coming up here!"

The guardsman rolled his eyes, and Methredhel had to resist the urge to smile as she went on. "Well Fathis - he said if I worked up here - I could service him directly. If you know what I mean. Isn't he just dreamy?"

"Hrmmph," the city guardsman sighed. He pointed down the elegantly apportioned hall to the nearest door. "The court wizard's apartments are right there."

"Oh I know, I've been there before…" Methredhel breathed huskily. "I was supposed to go to the count's quarters and help, hmmm, what was her name?"

"Livia," the guardsman said, beginning to look clearly exasperated.

"That's right, Livia!" Methredhel wore a mock look of surprise. "How did you know? Well, anyway, I'm supposed to help Livia today, and learn everything she does. You know what I mean?"

"Aye, aye," the guard sighed, and pointed across the hallway."Right over there, second door down."

"I swear they get younger and dumber every year…" Methredhel heard the Breton murmur under his breath as she stepped away.

She put an extra sway to her hips as she strutted down the hallway. As she walked past a planter filled with flax, she noticed how the bright yellow flowers swayed in the breeze. The same cool air washed across her a moment later. That is when she realized that the windows at either end of the corridor were shut, and there was no other place where air could be blowing in from.

Another sylph, Methredhel realized, just like the one outside the window. By Nocturnal, they said the castle was stripped of its defenders? She shuddered to think of how many armed men and spirits the place must crawl with when it was fully staffed!

Within a few moments she sauntered up to the count's door, where yet another guardsman waited. She prepared herself for another display of drama as she came up to the guard, this one a young Nibenean with a smartly-trimmed goatee. If she had not been working, she might have been tempted to chat this one up. But as it turned out, she did not even have to put on any pretenses, and he opened up the door for her without a word and bowed ever so slightly.

Now there was a true gentleman, Methredhel thought. Too bad more City Guardsmen and Imperial Legionaries were not like him. Her life would be a lot easier!

[Acadian]

What fun as this ultimate heist continues! I quite enjoyed the ride to the castle and wonderful descriptions throughout. We know of Snob Alley from Teresa's wanderings, but it was nice to see it from a newcomer's view.

Nice touch showing us those detect life amulets.

‘As lovely as they were, their hard soles and heels made moving silently impossible.’
But what good is a successful mission if you don’t look good doing it? B'sides, Methie knows a muffle spell!

Neat how Methie used Fathis’ reputation with the ladies to help with her cover story.

Aww, how nice of that young goateed guard to open the hen house door to our little gray fox!

[ghastley]

"I swear they get younger and dumber every year…"

And you had a guard say that!

You're seriously risking turning the TF into the MF here. She's good at what she does.

This post has been edited by ghastley: Apr 23 2013, 06:21 PM

[haute ecole rider]

Sorry to be gone so long, but I'm caught up now!

Loved revisiting Bravil with the T&T team. And now we see Methredhel at her TG best!

I do have one nit:

She held up a mirror to the other mage's face, and watched as he turned it this way and that, taking in his now dun-colored visage.

Usually "dun" refers to a sandy-color, and I think more appropriate to an Altmer (as Ungarion is) rather than a Dunmer (as he is pretending to be). Unless you were referring to the Dun in Dunmer? To my eye, the use of this word here was a bit jarring (as dear Olen used to say).

I am eager to see how the rest of this Heist of the Fourth Era is going to play out!

[Colonel Mustard]

I'm all caught up! Really been enjoying the last couple of parts, from the banter between briefing/planning session in the Fighter's Guild to the banter between Aela and Ungarion. My favourite part of this last lot has to be Methredel actually infiltrating the castle; the whole 'dumb blonde' act she had going was great fun to read, and the guard's line about them getting younger and dumber every year made laugh. Now how is she going to deal with that Sylph, I wonder?

That was a great read, and I'm looking forward to the next part!

[McBadgere]

I object!!... ...

You write these parts as if all us men respond to the girly voice...and the hair twirling...An...And the batted eyelashes...And, like, the swayed hip thing...Not to mention the boobs thing... ...

...

...Aw dang it...

...Yeah, you're right... ...

Absolutely brilliant...From the excellently portrayed infiltration to the getting up to the tower...Fantastic stuff, could picture it all so amazingly well...

Loved the idea of the amulets...Brilliant that...

And yet another sylph!...Hell's bells, they're going to have their work cut out!...

Brilliantly amazing stuff...

Loved it!...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

[Grits]

I love how Methredhel of the stone-built Imperial City feels uncomfortable on Bravil’s rickety wooden bridge. I enjoyed her observations as they rolled through Snob Alley.

Her high heels clomped on the stone floor, and now she regretted the shoes. As lovely as they were, their hard soles and heels made moving silently impossible.

I’m sure every female in castle maid uniform regrets those shoes, and not just for the clomping noise. But they all look good while they’re working!

What fun to watch Methredhel make her way into Fathis’ chambers. I suppose it’s too much to hope that Methie’s hip-and-eyelash treatment might work on the sylphs? Maybe if Chance were to climb up the wall shirtless and wink at them?

I’m enjoying Methredhel’s parts of the story so much!

[SubRosa]

Acadian: Those detect life amulets are pretty simple, but very effective. They do not even need a long range at all for someone standing guard at a door or in a hallway. Just ten feet will be more than enough to see anyone trying to sneak in or out.

I could not resist playing upon Fathis' reputation with the ladies - so delightfully created by yourself and mALX. It really makes him come alive as a character. Not to mention gives Methie something to work with!


ghastley: I could not resist the "younger and dumber" line! It just spilled out of the keyboard as I was writing. The irony of it coming from a guard is just too delicious as well. But Methie would much rather hear than that "Stop, You Violated The Law!"


haute ecole rider: Hot Collie! It is good to see you back again. I hope you are feeling better these days.

I think you are thinking of dun as in the horse color? I am using it in the definition of a greyish shade. Which I believe is where Bethesda got the idea for naming the dark elves Dunmer from.


Colonel Mustard: The character interactions throughout this have been a lot of fun to write. Especially that part between Aela and Ungarion. There is an answer to your sylph question this episode, but I do not want to give away spoilers.


McBadgere: I do not know if I would say men respond to the dumb blonde act. But I do think that many of us have been subjected to that behaviour enough times when it has not been an act, we can fall for it when it is an act.


Grits: You caught the reason for Methie's trepidation on the wooden bridge. She is accustomed to good, solid stone all around her. Immovable and impermeable.

I could never take an eight hour day walking in heels! I could when I was 20. I could play basketball in 5 inch stilettos back then. But not anymore. And walking on stone too! I prefer the nice, carpeted walk from the living room to the bedroom...

At the image of Chance climbing shirtless through the window. If Bravil had a countess that might work!


Previously On Teresa Of The Faint Smile: Our last episode found Methredhel and Mael making their way to the castle on the brewery wagon, disguised as workers making a delivery to the castle. Methie slipped away as they unloaded the wagon, used a closet to make a quick change into her maid uniform, and has made her way to through the castle and into the count's private apartments.


Chapter 46.6 – Methredhel's Eleven

Methredhel stepped into the count's apartments, and heard the door creak shut behind her. She had to restrain a gasp when she gazed upon the wealth so casually displayed around her. The floor was of marble rather than stone or wood. The walls were paneled with gleaming mahogany, and small tables displayed statuettes made of lustrous ebony and meteoric glass. Portraits which she imagined might be just as valuable graced the walls, and small crystal chandeliers holding glowstones added their soft light to the space. It was all she could do to keep from grabbing the first shiny thing and running.

The clicking of footsteps came from one of several side rooms off the main chamber. Methredhel followed the sound and found a middle-aged maid pouring water into a gleaming copper bath that was built into the floor. Figurines of leaping dolphins and mermaids rose from the edges of the basin, and a golden-paneled chute stood open on the floor next to it, revealing a space directly beneath the tub. Methredhel could see brightly glowing heatstones spread out within, creating a small furnace under the copper basin.

"Livia," Methredhel said as the maid turned her lined face to her. "Domitilla asked me to come find you. She wants you to meet her downstairs and help her with the Saturalia invitations."

"Invitations?" the older woman's eyes narrowed as Methredhel stepped closer. "Those were sent out yesterday. Who are you anyway?"

Methredhel coolly stepped past the other woman, and gazed down into the tub. At least it was already full, she thought. That would save her the trouble of doing the work herself.

A quick glance about revealed no telltale signs of the sylph, such as things blowing in a nonexistent breeze. She thanked Nocturnal for that small blessing. At least she would not have to use the banishment dagger Aela had provided her with. With any luck it had orders to only patrol the hallway outside. Given that many Imperials had no liking for magic, it would not surprise Methredhel if the count did not want one of his wizard's pets lurking about him in private.

Still, there was the maid to deal with. Methredhel's heart doubled its pace as she reached down into the front of her skirts with one hand, out of the other woman's sight. She produced a small scroll, and shook it open.

"Sleep," she hissed as she turned to face the maid. The scroll fell to dust, and a spiral of red light leaped from the thief's fingers. It ground down into the older woman, and she collapsed into Methredhel's ready arms. The silver pitcher Livia had held clattered to the floor however, splattering leftover drops of water across the marble.

Nocturnal's black boobs! Methredhel silently cursed. She was going to pay for that. Dragging the other woman's body across the room as quickly as she could, she stuffed her into a laundry closet. She had just shut the door behind he when a voice rang out from the open doorway behind her.

"What was that?"

Methredhel turned to see a young man standing there. He was clad in black and red velvet, and the skin of his face looked as soft and smooth as silk. He looked at her with deep brown eyes, and brushed away an errant lock of long black hair from his finely molded features. He was young, but Methredhel imagined with a few years, he would have little trouble turning most women's thighs to butter. Her own included.

"Oh, I thought Livia was in here," he said. "Everything all right?"

"Oh yes," Methredhel said. "I just dropped the pitcher. I'm as clumsy as an ogre sometimes."

"Do not say that." The page walked across the room with his eyes fixed upon Methredhel's breasts. "You're as graceful as a Dibella herself, a living work of art."

"Oh, you flatter me sir," Methredhel batted her eyes and shyly looked away.

"It is not flattery when it is true." The page stood just inches away. He reached down for the closet door. But Methredhel was quicker, and clamped her fingers around its golden knob first. "Let me help you with that."

"That is alright," she breathed as his fingers softly caressed her skin. He edged closer, just enough so that his chest brushed ever so slightly against her breasts. She felt his other hand fall to her waist, and Methredhel closed her eyes.

He's too young! Much too young. Far, far too young.

But Dibella, was his skin soft and warm! She breathed deeply, taking in his scent, and felt his velvet-clad body against hers. It took every ounce of her willpower to keep from lifting her lips to his own.

Instead she opened her eyes and sighed. She raised her free hand, and gently pushed him away.

"The count," she whispered. "He could walk in any moment."

"You're right," he breathed huskily. She stared at his opened tunic and the finely chiseled muscles of his chest. Damn, he was put together like White Gold Tower, she marveled. How come no one in the Thieves Guild had a body like that?

"Perhaps later, we might spend some time to get to know one another?"

"Oh yes," Methredhel practically gushed. "Flavius? you must be Flavius, you don't look like a Jirolin."

"Flavius Carbo it is indeed," his eyes twinkled as they stared deeply into hers, "at your service. Jirolin has the day off. And you are?"

"Oh Flavius!" Methredhel put on an expression of surprise. "I was supposed to find you. The count wanted you to go downstairs and tell his cook to change breakfast."

"He did?" the young man said. "But he said nothing when I saw him but a moment ago?"

"Oh, you know how he is," Methredhel did not have to act to show how flustered she felt. "I mean, after all, you've been working here longer than I have."

"Aye, indeed," the young man nodded. "What does he want?"

"Umm, eggs and partridge breasts." Methredhel looked up as if straining to remember.

"Really, he has never had eggs before?" Flavius wondered aloud.

"I know, that's what surprised me too!" Methredhel exclaimed. "He said he wants something different."

"Well then, I shall be off on your quest my lady." The handsome youth strutted to the door. "Until we meet again."

Methredhel did not dare to breathe again until the sound of the door shutting came to her elfin ears. She turned back to the closet and slid the door open. Working quickly, she bound the unconscious maid's hands and feet, and stuffed a gag into her mouth. She was not sure how long the effects of the stamina draining scroll would last, but she was not going to take chances.

She had just shut the door when the count himself walked in, wearing nothing but a silken robe, and holding a wine goblet in one hand. As Kud-Ei had warned, the middle-aged Imperial's black sword was belted around his waist. Methredhel stared at the artifact. Unlike ebony, it did not gleam in the light. Rather its entire surface was a dull, flat shade of black. It seemed to devour all light cast upon it, rather than reflecting even a glimmer of it back.

"Where did Livia go?" Count Terentius scowled as he stepped to the bath.

"She was summoned downstairs." Methredhel curtsied gracefully, and silently thanked Kud-Ei for forcing her to practice the maneuver for over an hour the night before. "Domitilla sent me to serve you my lord."

"Well, get on with it then." The flabby Imperial held out the gem-encrusted goblet with one hand, and Methredhel raced forward to take it from his fingers. Holding the golden vessel in her hands, Methredhel stared at the rubies and sapphires that dotted its curved basin. By Nocturnal, she could feed the entire Chamber Pot with the money from this!

The count unbelted his sword, and gently, almost lovingly, laid it and its scabbard down beside the bath. Then his hands worked his belt free and he held his arms out wide. Methredhel stared at him for a moment, then quickly stepped closer and drew the soft material from his body. The Imperial stood with his back to her, and Methredhel noted that while his body was weighed down with flab, there was still plenty of hard muscle underneath it. The thief recognized the scar of a dagger thrust low in his back, near the kidneys. The memory of wide gash wrapped around one of his thighs, and an old burn marred a shoulder blade.

"Before he fell into a wine bucket, he was a questing knight and tournament champion." Teresa had said of the count. What happened to you? Methredhel wondered as the Imperial stepped into the steaming water of the tub. What made you let yourself go? Was it just age and world-weariness? Or was it something darker?

Her green eyes flickered to the dull black sword just a few feet away. Now she remembered what Kud-Ei had said the previous day when the Argonian had handed her the negation gauntlets: "If the sword is indeed cursed, they will prevent it from forming a link to these one's spirits." Is that what ruined you Terentius? Was it Mannimarco's vengeance? If Soul's Rattle was indeed one of the Dead Lord's artifacts, what would possessing it do to a person? What would years of having the King of Worm's energy seeping into you do?

"What are you still doing here?"

The count's abrasive tone snapped Methredhel out of her reverie. "My apologies my lord," she said softly. Even though his back was to her, she curtsied once more, then turned to leave.

"I didn't say take the wine with you," the Nibenean's voice seethed with exasperation.

"Yes my lord," Methredhel's tongue fumbled. "Umm, I mean no my lord."

Reaching into her skirts once more, she drew forth a small vial and upended its contents into the goblet. Giving it a gentle swish to mix the contents with the red liquid, she turned back to face the count and stepped up beside the tub. Without a word, she bent at the waist and set the goblet down beside his hand. Then she quickly retreated from the room, and stopped just beyond the door.

Peeking around the corner, she waited for him to take a sip from the golden cup. It only took a few seconds for his head to slump forward after that, and the goblet to slip from his nerveless fingers and clatter onto the marble floor. Methredhel smiled and strutted back into the room. Then she saw that the middle-aged man was still tottering forward, and her feet exploded into motion.

She felt her hose run as she slid across the tile and reached out for the count's hair. Just before his face could fall into the water, her fingers clutched tightly upon his scalp. Pulling with all of her might, she dragged him back. It took every ounce of muscle the Bosmer could muster, but in the end she was able to pull his torso from the tub, and splay him out upon his back on the floor.

That was close, Methredhel sighed. He had nearly drowned! While she doubted that anyone would weep at his passing, the last thing she wanted was a murder investigation leveled at her. The Imperial Legion became irate when you stole from rich people. But a cross waited for any plebeian who killed a patrician.

Drawing forth the negation gauntlets from one of the new pockets in her chemise, Methredhel slid the soft material upon her hands. Taking a deep breath, she reached down and picked up Soul's Rattle. She nearly yelped and dropped the sword a moment later. She could have sworn that it had moved under her fingers. Not shifted in her hands, but actually moved of its own accord!

Eyeing the enchanted blade closely, Methredhel waited until she was certain it was not going to move again. She had heard bard's tales of swords that leaped from their sheaths on their own, and could fly about killing people. She had never imagined they might be true. But then again, she had never seen an artifact of a necromantic god either.

Swallowing hard, the Bosmer thief gathered up her courage and once more lifted the blade in her hands. It seemed heavy, as if she was lifting a living being in her arms, rather than a thin sliver of metal. Being careful to hold it away from her body, she darted from the room with a clatter of heels.

That meant her Muffle spell had worn off, she thought abstractedly. She would have to cast it again before she left, just to be careful. Keeping her mind on such minute details of the job - rather than thinking about the dark weapon in her hands - Methredhel found the count's privy.

Just as Kud-Ei had said, it was marble, with only a small opening within the raised wishbone where one would sit. An elegantly curved glass carafe sat on one side of the bench, filled with a soft amber liquid. The smell of fresh flowers wafted up from the container, which Methredhel's nose was thankful for. She shuddered to think of what it was like for Teresa, far down below in the sewer.

Drawing forth a small, black pouch from one of the myriad pockets in her chemise, Methredhel slid a bright glowstone from its depths. Next came a handful of twine, which she used to quickly tie the glowing crystal to the scabbard of the black sword. When she was finally satisfied that the glowstone was firmly secured, she held the sword out vertically over the toilet. Without a second thought she let go, and watched the cursed weapon vanish into the inky depths below.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Apr 29 2013, 05:01 PM

[Acadian]

I like how scrolls are the non-mage’s path to wizardy things! You use them to excellent effect in TF at just the right times.

‘Nocturnal's black boobs! Methredhel silently cursed.’
How delightfully TESish and, well, just plain delightful! A welcome giggle in a tense scene!

‘Methredhel curtsied gracefully, and silently thanked Kud-Ei for forcing her to practice the maneuver for over an hour the night before.’
It does take some practice, and I’m sure it was a new skill for Methie! We’re reminded how out of her element our thief is. She was nearly distracted by the overtly displayed and costly trappings of wealth, and that she actually was distracted by the flirtations of Flavius!

‘But a cross waited for any plebeian who killed a patrician.’
Wonderful reference to the practice of crucifixion and, that in Teresa’s world, the station and class of the victim could greatly magnify the crime. Whew, almost lost Count Pompousness there!

And the evil prize is flushed down to Teresa! Now, Methie just needs to smoothly make her own escape.

[haute ecole rider]

What a wonderful continuation of this latest episode! I loved how Methie has to deal with one unexpected thing after another, and do so without becoming too flustered and panicked. Though for a moment I thought that Flavius Carbo was going to be the end of her! Why do those guys always show up at the most inconvenient times??

I was referring to the greyish-brown color that is actually not limited to the description of horse color. It is also used when describing sandstone and deserts of a certain color as well. That's why I kind of asked about your word choice here - if you were describing Ungarion as having more of a bluish-grey color, that's not what comes to mind when I think of "dun." As a matter of fact, some Altmer are rather donnish in their complexion. Not sure where Beth came up with the prefix of "Dun-" when they named the Dark Elves. Not that you're wrong or anything, it's just that your usage of "dun" seems to contradict what I typically think of it as.

[ghastley]

When you described Methie dropping the sword down the privy, I thought "I hope it's not point-first, if Teresa's down there" but then it crossed my mind that she'd be avoiding other things coming down anyway. Tying a glow-stone onto it was a great idea. Warning beacon, as well as a homing one.

Now she has to get out, past all the people she sent on wild goose chases, who are probably on their way back. Could be fun!

I've been beaten to it on dun. It's a shade of brown for me too. There's a british bird called the dunnock, which is described as being devoid of any distinguishing markings, and just a plain dun colour. It's grey-brown.

This post has been edited by ghastley: Apr 30 2013, 03:21 AM

[mALX]

*

First off, I am so sorry it took so long to get back here to read.

45.6:

Your scene setting in this is so subtly worked in but gives the reader everything they need to know about what is going on, as if we walked into the room and saw it with our own eyes. I'd love to be able to emulate the natural feel of your scene setting! Awesome!

One of the things I love most about this chapter is the Lore you've woven into your own world building. The familiars like the Crypt of Hearts meshes perfectly and is a stroke of genius that makes me want to hunt for that bowing down emoticon. I am loving where you are taking your story!

Also love that the Fighters Guild is paired with the Mages Guild for an enemy of this magnitude - realistic. The infighting and elitism between the guilds takes a step back when a major threat is imminent, and them not agreeing on how to handle each bit of information they come across is so perfect and apt! I absolutely LOVE what you are doing with this story!

Still catching up, will be back.


*

[mALX]

*

EDIT:

*

46.1:

I've always loved your characterization of Methredhel, you have made me like her in game.

WOO HOO! Aela! I loved her/his character !!! Very pretty, just exactly like I pictured Aela!

46.2:

It suddenly struck me what Teresa's plan may be here, reading to find out...

I absolutely LOVED this chapter! Aela is one of my favorite characters in TF, there are so many you have brought to life and/or created that I love. I have to quote this entire section just for its awesomeness:

No doubt permanently bound too," Aela said. "Fathis Aren may be a womanizer, but he's no fool when it comes to his magic."

"Could you make us a scroll to dispel it?" Teresa asked.

"Nay," Aela stated flatly. "That would work on a creature summoned by another scroll, but not one summoned by a living, breathing mage. Magic is all about will. There is no willpower in a scroll. It is separated from its creator. So its effects are easily negated. Only a stronger mage can dispel a direct summoning."

"Could you do it?" Methredhel asked. She looked down from the keep to the Breton.

"I can do more than just dispel her," Aela said. "I can take control of her. But Fathis will instantly feel it when I break his bond with the sylph, and he will call out the guard."

Teresa whistled. "I didn't know anyone could do that."

"I am an ardhanari," Aela said, "or gallae, semnotatoi, enaree… Whatever race's word you like for a two-spirit magician. I can do things few others can."

Your world-building in this story has me totally floored, I am so in love with this story!

Still catching up, sorry it is taking so long.


*

This post has been edited by mALX: May 1 2013, 10:22 PM

[mALX]

*

46.3:

Fathis Aren is going to go nuts seeing pretty girls strutting around in those gorgeous maid outfits, ROFL!

Mael being considered one of the trusted really makes me nervous, I don't know him well enough to trust him yet, (not that I count in the equation, lol).

In any case, you would be seen through the walls by the life detection amulets the guardsmen wear."

This is as real as it gets, in a land of magic there is no way the Counts would not have their guards fully equipped to watch what is going on so sneaky types can't pass them in chameleon - you think of everything in a way that the reader automatically realizes it is the way it should be - Awesome!

"That's going to be a lot of people for Aela and I to overpower." Mael stroked his chin thoughtfully. "A few might escape in the confusion, or raise an alarm."

See? He is already planning to let the ones he is in cahoots with escape! ARGH! I don't trust this man!

This chapter absolutely ranks up in my favorite Teresa chapters, you are drawing all your forces into one place for this mission, making it as exciting if not more so than your tourney! Love, love, LOVE where you are taking this story! Awesome Write!

Not caught up yet, still reading.


*

[mALX]

*

46.4

Love the open friendship and trust between Aela and Ungarion here, very reminiscent of Freddie Mercury and Mary Austin, love at its purest.

"How do I look?"

"Like a dark elf," Aela declared with satisfaction. She held up a mirror to the other mage's face, and watched as he turned it this way and that, taking in his now dun-colored visage. The Altmer touched his hair. Where once it had been a mane of deep red, the elf's locks were now jet black and peppered with grey. He took the time to carefully arrange every strand, emphasizing his widows peak even more.

The "dun -colored" visage was explained before the description, it was really clear what you were going for here, especially in the context of the paragraph around it and the realm in which it was written within and about.

I LOVE that they are using disguises here, that really ramps up the excitement of this whole mission even more if that is possible! Add this chapter to another of my all time favorites, and put it high on the list! Absolutely stunning storyline and writing, it felt like I'd known Aela and Ungarion and their history personally - you did an EXCELLENT job with setting the feeling between them. Awesome, AWESOME Write !!!!


2 more chapters and I'll be caught up! WOO HOO!


*

This post has been edited by mALX: May 1 2013, 11:17 PM

[mALX]

*

46.5

"Oh, this is my first day," Methredhel said in as innocent and naive a voice as she could muster. "My friend Fathis got me this job, and I want to make a good impression. But it's so hard to find everything. I got lost twice coming up here!"

The guardsman rolled his eyes, and Methredhel had to resist the urge to smile as she went on. "Well Fathis - he said if I worked up here - I could service him directly. If you know what I mean. Isn't he just dreamy?"

"Hrmmph," the city guardsman sighed. He pointed down the elegantly apportioned hall to the nearest door. "The court wizard's apartments are right there."

SPEW! When in doubt, claim needing to have sex with Fathis! ROFL !!! I LOVED this!

This chapter was too short! Reading on, lol.


46.6:

Looks like Flavius Carbo is giving Fathis a run for his Septims with the maids, ROFL !!! Methredhel should have taken care of her business before going on this mission, her focus is too easily distracted, lol.

I was holding my breath the entire time Methredhel was with the Count - WHEW! Awesome write, AWESOME Story - and can't wait to see what happens next !!!


*

[McBadgere]

^ Someone's been busy... ...

Aaaamywho...

Brilliant episode, loved it!!...

Bit worried if yer going to follow the laws of story convention with Methredhel here... ...(Have you got to that bit with Marcus and Ivanova on B4 yet? you know/remember what I mean? )...

Fantastic writing, as ever...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...