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Posted by: SubRosa Mar 19 2010, 10:56 PM

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.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v90/subrosa_florens/oblivion/Oblivion337.jpg

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.

Posted by: Verlox Mar 19 2010, 11:10 PM

Oooo, Verlox likes. This is most well written and entertaining, easily serving the purpose of drawing us in, wanting more.

I thought it was funny when the guard called her street meat

Posted by: Winter Wolf Mar 20 2010, 01:03 AM

A prologue, a prologue, yipppeee!!!!!

My wolfy heart is singing for joy and I am spinning in dizzy circles.
Teresa is at Chorrol.

I love the description that you have weaved into this chapter. Wow. The buildings, the birds, the assassins, the blood, awesome.
This is a perfect set up for our lady with the faint smile (although not too much smiling done today!!)

It is funny to see her without the leather armor we know and love.

More, oh Sage, more!!!!

Posted by: treydog Mar 20 2010, 02:28 AM

As you know, I have always loved your story and your vivid descriptive style. This brief (new) introduction adds tremendous depth without adding many words. I also spotted some foreshadowing very early on- (based on your PM earlier)- but I will keep mum about it.

Welcome Teresa!

Posted by: Destri Melarg Mar 20 2010, 09:32 AM

What a setup! Through vividly descriptive language you give us a feel for the underside of the Imperial City. Even though we haven't really gotten to know her yet in this prologue, long live Teresa of the faint smile, and long may she smile (faintly).

And this:

is simply great!

Posted by: haute ecole rider Mar 20 2010, 10:22 PM

I like, I like!

The chapter is tight, short, yet evocative and descriptive.

I really enjoyed this introduction!

Posted by: SubRosa Mar 21 2010, 07:20 PM

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


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

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


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


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


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


* * *

Chapter 2a - On The Wings Of Ravens

12th Second Seed, 3E433

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

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

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

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v90/subrosa_florens/oblivion/Oblivion348.jpg

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v90/subrosa_florens/oblivion/Oblivion350.jpg

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

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

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

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

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

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

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v90/subrosa_florens/oblivion/Oblivion352.jpg

Posted by: treydog Mar 21 2010, 08:05 PM

You continue to keep me anxious for what happens next, even though I am "caught up" on Teresa's story. As a former editor, there is always a special joy in seeing a piece of writing develop and evolve.

One nit:

"Teresa felt herself shiver in spite of herself."

I think active voice would do away with the repetitive pronoun:

"Teresa shivered in spite of herself."

Posted by: canis216 Mar 21 2010, 09:13 PM

This is quite nice.

If I could be like Trey and register a slight quibble, you might draw your attention to this line:

"The pale Bosmer winced and closed her eyes for long moments, until the stinging pain from the bump on her head abated." (Emphasis mine)

As writers, we try so terribly hard to be descriptive... and sometimes we try too hard. It's a trap everybody falls into. There seems to be little reason to refer to her as pale at this particular moment. I simply would have gone with "Teresa" or "She" or "The bosmer" and left the pale description out until a more apt moment.

Otherwise, very fine work. I enjoyed how you conveyed her inner thoughts (about the coming of the guards, about facing an imperial magistrate, etc.), and much of your description is quite fine. Just beware of trying too hard. Or at least making it seem like you're working too hard. Which reminds me of an excellent phrase from Zen Buddhism (via the poet/essayist Gary Snyder):

"The path to enlightenment is without effort. Strive hard!"

Doesn't that capture the challenge of writing so well?

Posted by: haute ecole rider Mar 21 2010, 10:02 PM

Again, well-written and descriptive!

I did notice a couple of things that rather disrupted the narrative flow for me:

It has the feel of a change in verb tense. I think you can dispense with the bold face words and improve the flow of the reading:
A third member of the party entered, giving Teresa her first good look at him.


Again, I found this disruptive. I know you want to set this apart from the sentences before, when Teresa is reflecting on seeing the Emperor and having him speak to her. I think you can do without those two words. They feel extraneous to me.

Other than that, well done!

Posted by: Olen Mar 21 2010, 10:39 PM

I like how this is written, possibly the description was a shade heavy in places though I can't say I noticed particularly.

The flow is good, it's smooth to read and you get a good picture of the character's thoughts and background which isn't the easiest thing to do. I'm fascinated to see how this develops.

If I were looking for anything to criticise (and it took a bit of thought) I'd suggest you use fewer adverbs. This is a bit controversial but words like 'suddenly' are sometimes counter-productive. It slows things down and if an event is genuinely sudden then the word is devalued. Likewise 'stared directly' is redundant, stared is a good verb and can do the work itself, at least in my opinion. Just something to think about really.

Posted by: Destri Melarg Mar 22 2010, 12:50 AM

Since it seems that all of the slight nits in this story have been ably and adequately addressed, allow (there is some alliteration for you) me to comment on something that struck me in this chapter. The circumstances surrounding Teresa's imprisonment. With the new prologue Teresa proclaiming her innocence takes on a weight that had been missing before. Her being recognized by the Emperor also underscores the coincidental nature of her presence in that cell to begin with. The new prologue makes us believe that these events are being guided by the hands of the gods.

Posted by: minque Mar 22 2010, 01:11 AM

Ohhhh, now this is just great, so well described, I could easily put myself in Teresa's head....oh dear, this is going to be sooo interesting.

Posted by: Jacki Dice Mar 22 2010, 05:37 AM

I know I'm a little late, but I love the new beginning to your story!

Posted by: Winter Wolf Mar 22 2010, 05:46 AM

The rework of this chapter is perfect now. It ties in wonderfully well with the prologue and is the lovely start that all writers strive for. Thumbs up oh sage.

I like the way you broke up the dialogue with Valen Dreth, and had SubRosa sorry Teresa staring down the hallway past the bars. Damn that worked well!!

Your pace, flow and internal thoughts make such a fluent read.

Posted by: Remko Mar 23 2010, 12:37 PM

With everyone here and re-writing/heavily editing their existing story, there really is no point in being on the other forum anymore, is there?

Of course; I will read as you go along, look forward seeing what you are going to change and what not.

And as as sidenote; I loved the new beginning!

Posted by: SubRosa Mar 23 2010, 04:53 PM

treydog: I hope it will be interesting for those people who have read it before.

Thank you for using that doggie nose to sniff out Teresa's shivering. Fixed.


canis216: Thank you for the kind words my canid friend. And for eyeing out that unnecessary paleness.

A year ago I wrote http://home.comcast.net/~subrosa_florens/witch/fiction_lonely_eagle.html little piece as an experiment to see just how little description I could use and still keep a story moving, instead using dialogue to both describe and move the plot along.


haute ecole rider: Thank you h.e.r. Disruptions un-disrupted.


Olen: Thank you Olen.


Destri Melarg: I am glad that Teresa's reasons for being in the prison work better this time. Aside from wanting to start with some action, the other reason I wrote the prologue was to try to put some depth into her being in prison. That it all feels like an uncanny coincidence is perfect. That is what I was hoping for, without being too heavy handed.


minque: It's Serene's mother!

Digging deep into Teresa's head is probably what I am best at. Really, the focus of my writing is to show her from the inside, so people can see how events change her.


Jacki Dice: It is never too late, my favorite black rose girl. I am glad you liked the new start.


Winter Wolf: Thank you Wolf (I always think White Wolf when I see your name, thanks to years of playing Vampire: The Masquerade - the tabletop rpg, not the comp game. That and reading Elric stories).

I am glad you liked the change-up in Valen Dreth's dialogue. I was sorely tempted to remove all of it that came from the game, and make it 100% original. But I just could not resist the homage to the game that inspired all of this.


Remko: Thank you Remko. I am glad the new beginning worked for you as well. I hope the rest of the old tale will still be entertaining the second time around.

* * *

Chapter 2b - On The Wings Of Ravens


Teresa stood there and tried to understand what she had just seen. She stared down the open passageway as the sound of their boots faded into the distance. What in Tamriel was going on? she wondered. First a man dies at her feet, and then she meets the Emperor! Was this all a mad dream?

Dream or not, the secret passage was her only chance out of the cell. In the end that was all that Teresa really needed to know. Shadow hide me, she thought. Then she moved down the darkened passage, trying as best she could not to make a sound.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v90/subrosa_florens/oblivion/Oblivion338.jpg

At first it was nothing more than a tunnel roughly hewn through the ground, sloping ever downward. But soon it let out into an area of dusty stone chambers and passageways. Unlike the massive rectangular blocks of stone which fit perfectly together that she was used to seeing in the city above, the walls here were of smaller rocks of varying sizes, and held together by crumbling mortar. An aura of great age hung over the area like a shroud, only reinforced by the stale, dusty air that choked the Bosmer's throat. The place seemed empty and dead to her eyes, like a long abandoned tomb.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v90/subrosa_florens/oblivion/Oblivion353.jpg

The ring of steel on steel came to Teresa's ears from somewhere ahead, along with the yell of angry voices. The wood elf stopped in the darkness for a moment. It seemed distant, so she moved forward again, but more quietly and purposely than before. She wanted to know what was happening, but did not want anyone seeing her doing it.

Soon enough she was able to glimpse dark figures struggling in a large chamber in front of her. It was the Blades she had seen before, their curved swords flashing in the air against an unseen foe. A single, smaller figure hung back, holding a straight-bladed sword in his hand. The Emperor, Teresa guessed.

Whoever the enemy was, the bodyguards drove them off. She heard them say something about losing someone, and they seemed to be standing around a body for a moment. Then they moved on down the passage in haste.

Teresa followed more slowly. She felt for the magicka within her, and concentrated on the symbol of her Flare spell. Not for the first time, she thanked the magician who had taught it to her. Until now she had only used it on mud crabs. She hoped she would not need it for anything else…

She found that it was the Breton they had been talking about losing, for her body lay sprawled on the chamber floor. Teresa bent to take her weapon, but found that her sword was gone. One of the other Blades must have taken it, she thought.

Looking at the other bodies in the room, she found they were mortals. Her blood froze when she saw that they were clad in red-hooded robes. The same as she had seen in the alley! she thought. They were what the dying Imperial had been trying to warn her about! Who had he been? she wondered, a Blade in disguise? Or perhaps some poor nobody like herself who had just been swept up in the midst of this terrible storm?

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v90/subrosa_florens/oblivion/Oblivion354.jpg

She reached for their weapons, but strangely she saw none in their dead hands or on the floor nearby. Yet she could have sworn that the figures she had seen had been armed, not only here, but in the alley...

She continued to follow through the empty passages, being sure to keep her distance from the Emperor and his guards. Several more times she heard the sound of combat ahead, and waited until it had passed before moving forward again. Each time she came upon more of the red-robed bodies.

Thankfully the Emperor and his bodyguards were winning, she thought, at least for the most part. She was not sure why that comforted her. It was not like Emperors meant anything to a street rat like herself. One was no different than another, all in their lofty tower far removed from the dark alleys where people like her struggled every day to survive.

Yet somehow, he was different, Teresa knew deep in her heart. She could still see his blue eyes gleaming in her mind's eye, burning to the very core of her being. It was a light that somehow warmed her with even just its memory, as if its fire somehow burned away the darkness that closed in from all sides.

Teresa shook her head and continued moving forward. Stop being gullible, she thought to herself. He was the Emperor, and she was nothing but a lowly prole. Even if he did know her name...

Teresa began to think that she was sneaking with the silence and grace of The Grey Fox as she shadowed them. That was until she came around a corner to find the Redguard standing over her with his curved sword ready to fall.

"Eeep!" Teresa squealed, and fell on her backside as she tried to jump away. The Blade just stood there with a look of disgust on his face, and lowered his weapon.

"It's just that Bosmer following us," he spat, not taking his eyes off Teresa, "not the assassins."

"We should kill her," the other Blade insisted. "She might be part of the plot."

"Nonsense!" the Emperor declared. Teresa would swear that his voice could level mountains. "Bring her here Baurus."

The Redguard reached out with his free hand, and without showing the merest trace of effort grabbed Teresa's sack cloth tunic and pulled her to her feet. Then grasping her arm in that iron grip, he walked her to where the Emperor of Tamriel waited.

"My path will soon end Teresa," the Emperor said to her, his voice now quieter and less overwhelming. "I have seen it in the stars, and in my dreams. But your path will go on. I know that you have an important part to play in this."

"I...um....I...." Teresa stammered, feeling like an idiot, then finally got her tongue to work. "I'm just a prole. There is nothing I can do."

"You have no idea what you can do," the Emperor said with a quiet smile. "But I do."

"There was a man today, an Imperial" she blurted out, keenly aware of how everyone was looking at her. "He died in front of me. He said they were going to try to kill someone. I didn't know…"

"Cnaeus!" the Redguard spat, "the legion found him this afternoon." The leather of the Blade's gauntlet creaked as he tightened his hand on the hilt of his sword and turned to Teresa. "You're in here for that!"

"It was the Red Robes!" the wood elf exclaimed, feeling her heart double its pace as she realized the Redguard was just an instant away from killing her, Emperor or not. "They stabbed him, with strange knives. They were chasing him. I didn't do it!"

"That is right, she did not kill Cnaeus," the Emperor said, turning to look at Baurus. His voice was soft, yet somehow reverberated through Teresa more clearly than a shout. As if it were somehow laden with steel. "She will come with us from now on," the old man continued, "now let us move on."

"Make yourself useful and carry this torch," Baurus said, releasing his grip on her arm and passing her the flaming brand that the last Blade held. "I do not know what the Emperor sees in you, but if he believes in you, that is good enough for me."

Teresa followed along, now part of Emperor Uriel Septim's entourage. Part of his bodyguard, she mentally corrected herself. Me, she thought, an orphan from the street, protecting the Emperor from assassins. Wait until she told Simplicia about this! she thought. The old woman would never believe it!

Her hand shook as she held the torch aloft to light their path. But she moved ahead nonetheless. The Emperor commanded it, and as much as she hated the legion, Teresa suddenly realized that she would do anything that man asked of her. He had a strange power. He did not make her feel afraid, as the soldiers did. Rather he made her feel..., something she could not explain, even to herself. She only knew that he was like no man she had ever met, or likely ever would again.

Posted by: D.Foxy Mar 23 2010, 05:13 PM

Aaaaaan the vulpine voom voom has arrived!!!

Let me also congratulate you on doing better the second time around. This is crisper, with a heightened sense of the dramatic.

I Do hope, however, that you will keep the sense on wonder and vulnerability that I first found appealing about Teresa when I first met her in your writing...I feel that somehow, that part of her is missing here, and we see someone slightly different.

One question-

"Looking at the other bodies in the room, she found they were mortals. "

As opposed to.... immortals? Gods? I'm a bit confused there.

Posted by: Winter Wolf Mar 24 2010, 06:54 AM

Most of Teresa's wonder and vulnerability really shows through when she contrasts the outside world that she is walking through with her limited experience from the waterfront. There is no doubt SubRosa will strive to keep that stuff in there. Well, fingers crossed.

Those of us who have walked with Teresa from the very start will smile at that line!!

Posted by: Destri Melarg Mar 24 2010, 08:15 AM

Agreed. Maybe we can attribute it to your own maturity as a writer, but I sense something of an edge in Teresa that wasn't there before. Not cynicism exactly, more like a world-weariness. The cool thing is that, in my opinion, this new attitude seems to fit who Teresa is more than before.

So far I believe this version of Teresa, especially when she speaks of the effect the Emperor has on her.

Posted by: SubRosa Mar 25 2010, 06:18 PM

D.Foxy: Thank you DF.

I think what you are seeing is that I put a little more emphasis on Teresa's being a street urchin, and a lifetime of being treated like garbage by the people around her. Her thoughts that Emperor's in their lofty towers do not mean anything to an urchin, that no magistrate would ever believe her word, etc... That low self-esteem is something that has always driven Teresa. It is why she does not know how to take a compliment. Why she cannot think of herself as a hero, etc... I just wanted to show that a little more.

However, she still has all the same vulnerabilities as before. For example, she still falls flat on her rear (I did not say boat - darned forum!) when she comes around the corner and sees Baurus, her hand still shakes as she hold the torch he gives her.

Edit: forgot to mention. I used the term "mortal" because I did not know any ES catch-all term to use for elves, humans, khajiit, and argonians combined. Saying "person" does not sound right for a fantasy setting. "Humanoid" sounds too scientific. The old tabletop RPG Shadowrun had the term "Metahuman", and Earthdawn had "Namegiver", but those do not translate to ES either.


Winter Wolf: I think you hit the nail on the head there. Teresa's vulnerabilities do always show through when she deals with other people. Expect no real changes there.


Destri Melarg: As I said to Fox, I believe you are picking up on that low self-esteem of Teresa's.

I am glad the extra stuff I put in to reinforce the Emperor's power to inspire others is working. It was something I always wanted to get across, that he was a man who made everyone around him better. I was never really satisfied with the job I did of portraying that in the first go around.

* * *

Chapter 2c - On The Wings Of Ravens


They came to a dead end, the passage barred ahead of them by an iron gate that was locked from the other side. They backtracked to a side chamber that Baurus had noticed, and Teresa waited inside with the Emperor as the Redguard and the last Blade went out to scout down another passage.

"I know this place, I have seen it," the Emperor said in a harsh whisper, his eyes casting around the small room. "My end his here." He turned to face the slender wood elf. "However, your stars are not mine Teresa. You still have a destiny ahead of you."

"I don't know what you mean sir, um, your majesty," Teresa said, feeling overwhelmed. "I'm not a hero..."

"No you are not. Not yet," the Emperor said, his azure eyes locked onto hers. She tried to pull away from his stare, but she found she could not. His eyes drew hers like a lodestone, and again she felt that brilliant light they cast filling her up, making her feel taller, stronger, bolder, than she had ever felt before.

"It is our choices in life that define us," he said. "Everything we do, or do not do, makes us what we are, makes the world what it is. Some people choose poorly. Some choose to be something better. Your choices lie ahead of you, starting this night. You will have to live with them for the rest of your days. So make them wisely."

Teresa had heard much the same before, from the priestesses and priests of the Nine when they made their monthly tour of the Waterfront shantytown to save the souls of proles like herself. Yet where they always sounded like pompous hypocrites, every word the Emperor said struck home deeply within her. Somehow because he said it, something within her knew that it was all true.

"The time has almost come," the Emperor said with resignation. He lifted the Amulet of Kings from his shoulders and placed it in her hand. "Take this. Give it to Jauffre. He alone knows where to find the last of my sons."

"But surely Baurus should..." Teresa stammered, staring down at the gigantic ruby in her hand.

"Baurus cannot. Our enemy knows too much about me. They know him. They even know this secret passage well enough to lay a trap for me here," the Emperor insisted. Taking her hand, he pushed the amulet into one of the pockets in her sackcloth breeches. "You they do not know. You can fly past them unnoticed, like a bird in the night sky. You must do this. No one else can. Take the amulet to Jauffre and let nothing stop you. The world hangs in the balance!"

Just then the wall opened up behind him with a grating of stone on stone. Teresa's eyes widened in horror as she saw a man in red robes emerge, raising one hand in the air. A blue glow erupted from his fingers and fell in a ring around his body. As the energy passed by, it left him clad in what looked like metal armor, yet nothing a mortal smith would construct. In one hand he now held a wavy bladed dagger that looked more like the fang of a monster than an ordinary weapon. Exactly as she had seen in the hands of the assassins in the alley.

Teresa wanted to shout, to step up and strike at the assassin. Yet she found her feet rooted to the stone beneath her feet, and her tongue a motionless rock in her throat. Before she knew it, the Emperor pushed her back out of the way and drew his sword. But he was old, and too slow. The armored assassin was upon him in an instant, and the next thing the wood elf knew the great man's body was falling to the stone tiles in a fountain of blood.

Something happened to Teresa then, which had never happened before. Looking from the dead body of the Emperor to the assassin who had claimed his life, her terror washed away. Replacing it was something in her heart that was dark, cold, and furious.

Without thinking she picked up the sword from beside the Emperor's body and rose to meet his killer. The assassin's dagger flashed down, and without flinching Teresa raised her off hand to meet it. Its hard blade pierced her palm straight through and stuck tight in her bones. She did not make a sound however, nor even flinch as she thrust the sword up into the belly of the murderer. She was vaguely aware of him screaming as she twisted the blade and drew it back out. A moment later she stabbed him again, and this time tilted the blade upward and pushed it behind his ribs.

The assassin crumpled in a heap beside the Emperor, his armor and dagger vanishing in a swirl of blue light. With an effort Teresa pulled the sword from his body and stabbed him again and again, thinking nothing of her wound, or of anything else in the world. She heard a woman shrieking, and it was not until Baurus pulled the sword from her hand and lifted her to her feet that she realized it was her.

* * *

"We've failed, I've failed..." Teresa heard Baurus sigh as the world came back into focus, and with it the pain in her hand. "The Blades are sworn to protect the Emperor, and now he and all of his heirs are dead."

"Not all of them," Teresa was more surprised than anyone to hear herself say. "There is one other. Someone named Jauffre knows who it is."

"Another son?" said Baurus, eyes widening in surprise. "Jauffre is the head of our order, if the Emperor entrusted anyone with that knowledge, it would be him. But how do you know?"

"The Emperor told me," Teresa said with effort, fighting the tightening in her throat as she looked down at his still form. She felt tears welling in her eyes, and it took every ounce of her will to resist them. Her heart was still racing from the battle, and she could not stop the trembling that coursed throughout her body, or the exhaustion creeping into her limbs.

Baurus' eyes followed hers, and a moment later he tossed the bloody sword of the Emperor aside and dropped to the floor beside his body. For a moment Teresa thought he was indeed going to start weeping. But then she saw he was running his hands through the folds in the old man's robe.

"The Amulet of Kings!" he hissed, turning his face back to hers, "where is it!"

Teresa blinked at the sudden change of his demeanor, but only for a moment. She drew the amulet from her pocket and held it out to him.

"He gave it to me," she said, looking back down on the Emperor. "He said I should take it to Jauffre. He said no one else could."

"The Emperor said that?" Baurus blinked, rising to his feet. He placed one hand over Teresa's own and gently pushed the amulet back to her breast. "Then you must do as he said."

"How? I saw it all happen, right in front of my eyes. I couldn't stop it...." Now she did begin to cry. "I just can't do this..."

"The Emperors see things, know things, that lesser mortals cannot," Baurus explained. "They say it is the dragon blood that flows through their veins. If he said so, then you must go to Jauffre."

"But I do not even know where to find him!" she exclaimed, waving her hand for emphasis. The motion sent a white hot bolt of pain lancing through her wounded palm. Doubling over as she cradled her bloody hand, the wood elf gritted her teeth and moaned. "Look at me. Do I look like a hero?"

"Here, take this healing potion, it is the last one I have left." Baurus said, reaching into a pouch at his waist and drawing forth a blue vial.

But Teresa waved him off with her good hand, still clutching the Amulet of Kings in it. Concentrating upon the healing spell she had learned so long ago, she drew her magicka up from within her. She pictured her hand, not torn and bloody as it was now, but rather whole and unharmed. Letting her magicka loose through that image, a white light burst from her fingers and washed over her body. The flesh closed around the wound as the light faded, but Teresa could still feel pain throbbing deep within her palm. Once more she cast the spell, then again, until finally it subsided.

"Oh you're a stubborn one aren't you," Baurus said with what Teresa thought might be a tinge of respect. It was something that she was not accustomed to hearing in other people's voices. "Good. It looks like there is more to you than you give yourself credit for."

"Yeah," Teresa muttered, staring from her hand to the body of the assassin. "It's been a night of surprises alright."

She had never killed anyone in her life, she thought, nor even seriously imagined doing so. Yet here a man - and a hardened killer to be certain - lay dead at her own hand. She did not feel the slightest twinge of regret, except that she had not been able to kill him sooner.

But it did seem strange to her. She could barely remember any of it. She could not even recall consciously deciding to pick up the sword and attack the assassin. All she could remember was the outrage that she felt at seeing the Emperor die. Somehow it had just taken control of her. Teresa had never thought she had that kind of anger in her, yet she had never met anyone like Uriel Septim before either.

"You will have to get off the City Isle and go west, to Weynon Priory. It is just outside of Chorrol," Baurus said. "Stay off the roads, we don't know if the assassins will be looking. They probably would not know you anyway, but at this point we cannot take any more chances."

"What about you, and the other man?" Teresa said, looking for the last Blade, who was nowhere in sight.

"He's dead," Baurus stated plainly, nudging the assassin's body with his boot. "We were ambushed while this one here did his work. I have to stay here with the Emperor's body. I will cover your escape in case there are more."

"You should come with me," Teresa reasoned. "I've never been outside the city. If I run into trouble in the wilderness..."

"No," Baurus shook his head. "Believe me, no one is more surprised than I am that I am sending an escaped prisoner off with the Amulet of Kings. But the Emperor trusted you, and I trust him. Besides, the assassins know who I am, and they know my place is by the Emperor's side, even if he is dead. If they see me running to Weynon they will know something is happening. They will suspect there is a last Septim that they missed. They must never know that!"

Teresa nodded. His logic was inescapable. She put the amulet back in her pocket and leaned down to pick up the sword the Emperor had been carrying. It was a plain steel arming sword, the kind any legionary might use. It hardly seemed like the weapon of an Emperor.

"You will need that. It belonged to a legionary who tried to help us in the prison," said Baurus, who then dug a heavy iron key from one of his belt pouches and handed it to Teresa. "Take this too. It will open the grate at the sewer exit. That is where we had been going. By the smell of that secret passage, it leads there too. Now you had better get going."

Teresa nodded. Gripping the sword in one hand, she wiped the tears and blood from her face with the other. Then she headed down the passage that the assassin had come from.

"Talos guide you," she heard Baurus say behind her.

Posted by: Olen Mar 25 2010, 10:30 PM

Nice piece. I like how you're developing the character of Teresa, she still has the underlying vulnerability she showed earlier but the Emperor (and his death) seems to have changed her slightly. She seems more confident and stronger for it.

Good stuff. Really nice to read.

Posted by: Destri Melarg Mar 26 2010, 01:12 AM

This entire chapter was extremely well written, but here is something that really stood out to me:

The Emperor’s explanation for why it must be Teresa who takes the Amulet of Kings to Weynon Priory, and the explanation that Baurus gives for why he can’t accompany her are both great. I especially like the fact that Baurus sees enough of how unlikely the situation is that he chooses to comment on it.

I beg to differ Baurus, I think that maybe Teresa might be ‘more surprised’.

Posted by: treydog Mar 26 2010, 04:56 PM

You have absolutely excelled with the re-writes. They are not so extensive as to alter the bones of the great story (and its wonderful protagonist), but they do exactly as you said- highlight aspects of Teresa's history and personality. Add the "meta-themes" (motifs?) that will come to fruition far in the future and- well, I am speechless. All I can say is that you have achieved the feat of taking an already brilliant story and making it even better.

Posted by: SubRosa Mar 27 2010, 06:08 PM

Olen: Thank you Olen. You are correct about the Emperor. He is the catalyst that changes Teresa forever. He will always be the measuring stick that she compares herself to.


Destri Melarg: Thank you Dest. This part of the MQ is one of the weakest. The whole concept is really ridiculous. It only has the Emperor's visions and the Blade's faith in him to drive it. So I did my best to emphasize both, and tried to keep it from seeming too contrived. Under the circumstances, I thought it really demanded a blunt statement by one of the characters about how crazy it was.


treydog: Thank you T. We will be seeing some less subtle examples of those motifs coming in a few chapters.


* * *

Chapter 3a - Masser's Light

12th Second Seed, 3E433

Baurus had been right; the passage led directly to the sewers. It was a place of dark, wet stone. Wet with what Teresa would rather not think about. The smell was bad enough. Occasional pools of light fell from grates in the ceiling high above, illuminating narrow walkways that hugged the walls of the tunnel, while a wide channel of water and sludge flowed down its center. She followed the tunnel down the direction the water was flowing, reasoning that it must empty into the lake that surrounded the City Isle.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v90/subrosa_florens/oblivion/Oblivion339.jpg

Teresa soon found that she was not alone in the dark tunnel. When she first heard the sounds she thought it must be more of the assassins. But she soon learned that was in fact something else entirely as she sneaked closer. These creatures walked upright like mortals, but were short and hunched over, with misshapen heads and limbs. There were several of them gathered around what looked to be a body that lay on one of the walkways.

Teresa was glad she had left the torch behind, otherwise the creatures would have seen her. She was not sure just what they were. She thought they might be goblins. But she had never seen one, so she could not be sure. She did know that there were three of them and only one of her however, so the last thing she wanted was a fight, even though she was larger than any of them.

The problem was there was no other way for her to go except through them. There had been no side-passages behind her, only this one winding tunnel. So she waited in the shadows, hoping they would not see her. As she watched, she saw that they were definitely looting the body they were clustered around.

One lifted something above its head, and Teresa's heart leaped. By the silhouette, it was a strung bow. She actually knew how to use that, thanks to long hours of practice with her fellow street rat and archer Methredhel. If she could get her hands on it, she thought, she might be able to do something against them.

Then another of the creatures lifted a small pouch from the body, and Teresa could hear the distinctive jingling of coins from within. The other two creatures both stopped what they were doing and looked at the first. Then almost as if on cue they dropped what they were holding and all grabbed for the pouch with a host of eager squeals.

Teresa tucked her legion sword into her rope belt, hoping that its blade would not slice it to ribbons. Then she concentrated on the symbol of her Flare spell, feeling for the magicka within her in case she needed to use it. While the creatures played tug of war with the coins she sneaked closer. They were becoming rough, and one jumped over the body and landed atop the first creature, sending both of them sprawling in the direction opposite from Teresa. The third followed a moment later, leaving the way to the body - and the bow - wide open.

This was her chance! Teresa thought. No longer trying to be sneaky, she ran up and grabbed the bow. When she drew near she also saw a bag of arrows laying on the walkway beside the body. She caught that up in her free hand as well, and as one of the creatures turned to look at her, she sped back down the tunnel in the direction from which she come.

She heard the squealing of the creatures behind her take on a new tone, and a few moments later the sound of pounding feet echoed in the tunnel behind her. The footsteps had an odd scratching sound to them, like the footsteps of a cat or dog on a hard floor. Racing back to the first turn of the tunnel, she stopped and dropped the bag of arrows, deftly catching one in her hand as the rest clattered to the ground.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she raised the bow and nocked the arrow on its string, silently thanking the Nine that neither had gotten wet in the sewage. She did not really think about her actions; hours of practice had taught her body to do what was needed. Drawing the string back to half tension, she sighted the arrow on the center of the first dark shape coming down the tunnel. Then she pulled the string back to her ear with every ounce of strength in her arms and shoulders and loosed.

Wasting no time to see if she had hit, she anxiously bent down to yank another arrow from the bag. A high-pitched scream came from down the hall, and a moment later she heard a loud splash. She rose and pulled the bow to half tension once more, noticing a thrashing in the water in the center of the tunnel. She ignored it, and just as before she quickly sighted her arrow at what looked like the center of the dark shape of the second creature ahead. Then she pulled the string back to full tension and loosed.

She felt that same cold rage inside her that she had felt when fighting the assassin. Only this time it was not all-consuming, not so personal. Instead it was a hard serpent in her chest wanting to strike out and kill. Hard enough to steady the tremble that Teresa could feel ready to course through her frame, and cold enough drown out the thundering of blood in her ears. She let that cold fury drive her as she reached for a third arrow.

But the second creature did not go down as the first had, and before she could draw her bow another time it was upon her. Teresa saw a short blade glittering in its hand, and now panic did flood through her. Backing away, her sandaled foot slipped in the muck and she fell onto the walkway as the arrow fell from her fingers. The creature loomed above her like a wraith, raising its weapon in its hand. With a scream she threw her hands up in front of her, reflexively turning loose the magicka within her as she did.

The bolt of fire from her Flare spell illuminated the sewer in red light, briefly giving Teresa her first good look at her enemies. They were green-skinned creatures, having huge, pointed ears and elongated skulls packed with dagger-like teeth. Their arms were bony and terminated with clawed fingers, and their legs were similarly thin, ending in bare feet tipped by claws.

The goblin - as Teresa was now certain it must be - gave out a short scream that cut off in mid exhale. The stench of roasted meat overpowered the effluvium of the sewer in her nostrils. Then the creature limply fell onto her, still hot and smoking from the flame that had burned its life away.

The twang of a bow shot filled Teresa's ears. A shock ran through the limp body of the goblin, and a moment later she saw the feathered end of an arrow protruding from its back. The third goblin was an archer, Teresa realized as she pushed the corpse off of her and scrabbled on all fours around the corner of the tunnel.

Her body shook as she reached for another arrow. The familiar action seemed to steady her nerves however, and once more she felt that cold hardness within her rise to the fore. She stood and took a deep breath. Raising the bow and drawing it to half tension, she stepped sideways around the corner and back into the tunnel.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v90/subrosa_florens/oblivion/Oblivion340.jpg

She let half of her breath flow from her lips and sighted in on the goblin archer down the tunnel. Pulling back the string to her cheek, a moment later her arrow was in flight. Then she stepped back around the corner to ready another. Even as she moved, she heard the twang of a bowshot come from down the hall and gritted her teeth. But the goblin's arrow did not find her as she stepped to safety.

She heard a brief screech from the tunnel, followed by a heavy thud. A moment later Teresa stepped back into the hall with another arrow ready. The goblin archer was nowhere in sight. He must be down, she reasoned. The first goblin she had shot was still thrashing in the muck in the middle of the sewer. She stepped closer with her bow at half tension. Now she could see that her arrow had pierced his leg at the knee.

That must really hurt, she thought without the slightest bit of compassion. She walked up to the edge of water channel and stared at the creature. The goblin stopped thrashing and glared back up at her, eyes blazing with hatred. With one smooth motion of her bow, Teresa finished it.

Posted by: D.Foxy Mar 27 2010, 06:13 PM

Your combat this time around is much better - it shows how you have matured as a writer! Kudos!

Posted by: haute ecole rider Mar 27 2010, 06:30 PM

It's been a while since I read the original chapter, but this reads so much smoother than I recall. I agree with Foxy - Kudos!

Posted by: Fiach Mar 28 2010, 12:36 PM

Excellent work!

Just read through it and I really am starting to enjoy it

I especially love the screen shots that you are putting in, it adds a bit more to the story me thinks ^^,

I've also figured out the subscribe button thingey on the forums so I shall be watching this very closely

Posted by: Winter Wolf Mar 29 2010, 06:48 AM

The gutter rat of the Waterfront is proving that the goblins are no match for her.
Go girl!!!

Posted by: Destri Melarg Mar 29 2010, 09:57 AM

I go to you and Acadian for inspiration in how to describe combat with a bow. This chapter certainly didn't disappoint. I know that you are a fan of quiet reflective chapters, but that doesn't mean that you aren't versatile enough to do combat well.

Posted by: SubRosa Mar 29 2010, 04:25 PM

D.Foxy & haute ecole rider: Thank you both. I used the opportunity of the re-write to tweak the description of the combat at bit.


Fiach: Thank you Fiach. I have the game on PC so I figure I might as well take screenshots. In fact, I have about a dozen different saves just for making them.


Winter Wolf: Thank you Wolf. They are lucky she did not rob them blind first!


Destri Melarg: Thank you Dest.


* * *

Chapter 3b - Masser's Light

The tunnel fell into a silence that was only pierced by the steady dripping of water and the sound of Teresa's own gasping breaths. The skin of her left arm ached where the bowstring had rubbed against it with every shot, and her fingers throbbed in pain from releasing it with her bare hands. That was what she got for using a bow without an arm bracer and a shooting glove, she thought.

Looking down at her hands, Teresa saw that they were trembling. A moment later she dropped to the stone floor, shaking all over. Her heart pounded like a hammer in her chest, and the pain in her arm and fingers became worse and worse.

Yet in spite of it all, she felt exhilaration coursing through her body. She was alive! she thought, she had faced three goblins and she was alive! She sat there, just happy to still be breathing, and waited for her hands to stop shaking.

Once they did she concentrated upon her healing spell, then released her magicka with a glow of white light that fell around her body. This time it only required a single casting for the pain in the scraped skin of her arm and fingers to stop.

The wood elf rose to take a closer look at the body the goblins had been fighting over. It was a man, an Imperial perhaps, and did not seem to have been dead for long. He was dressed from head to toe in brown leather, including a thick cuirass that could not be mistaken for anything except armor. His head was bare except for a curious-looking pair of goggles that he wore. An arrow had pierced his leg, and his throat was torn out in a huge gash.

The work of the goblins no doubt, Teresa thought. But who was he? He was not a legionary, or one of those assassins, that was for certain. Was he a thief? she wondered. She had heard that some of them used the sewers as an underground road, hidden from the eyes of the Imperial Legion. What about the goblins themselves? Was it normal for such creatures to live so near to the city? Just under its nose in fact?

Teresa shook her head. She would probably never know the answers to her questions, she reasoned. All that mattered right now was that she was still alive, and she had to get moving.

Still, her street instincts moved her to gather up the bag of coins the goblins had been fighting over. Likewise she pulled the leather cuirass from the dead man's frame a moment later and settled it upon her own shoulders. It felt heavy and uncomfortable, but if there were more goblins ahead it might save her life, she thought. His gloves followed soon after, and rifling through his belongings she discovered a dagger and a handful of lockpicks. Of varying shapes and sizes, there seemed to be one of the latter for every type of lock imaginable.

Looking over his boots, she shook her head when she realized that both of her feet could fit into one of them, and left them behind. She briefly considered trying to take his greaves, but the idea of leaving him laying naked in the tunnel just seemed wrong to her. Finally, she pulled the goggles from the dead man's head and settled them over her own eyes out of curiosity.

She was startled when the tunnel suddenly lit up as if it were under the noon day sun. She could see every individual stone in the walls, and every droplet of water that fell from the ceiling. A shaft of light from a grating in the ceiling ahead was so bright that it was nearly blinding, prompting her to turn her head away. Strangest of all, nearly all of the color had vanished from the world, reducing it to a grayish landscape broken only the occasional bits of muted red or yellow.

It was just like a Night Eye spell, Teresa thought. She had made enough potions of it for thieves in the guild to know. She knew that many of them preferred it to normal vision when they did their work, as it allowed them to see in the dark without making any light that would give them away.

A quick rummage through the corpses of the goblins yielded no great treasures as the dead thief had. They carried little more than crude iron daggers and wore filthy loincloths. The archer had a brace of arrows, but when Teresa inspected them she found they were smaller, shorter, and thinner than those she had found on the thief. They also appeared to be tipped with soft iron, where his were plainly of good hard steel. So while she strapped the arrow bag of the thief around her waist, she left the goblin's arrows behind, as she knew they would only make her misjudge her shots if she tried to use them. Once she got used to the heavier arrows of the thief that was.

That is when it occurred to her that if the last goblin had not been an archer, but instead had charged in at her as the first two had, she would probably be dead. The thought gave her a chill, and brought the tremble back to her hands. She had panicked when the second goblin was upon her, she thought. What would she have done if the third had been right behind with a knife or club? What should she do differently the next time, to be prepared for that? she wondered.

Suddenly she stopped and realized what she was doing. She was assessing weapons and tactics, as if she did this sort of thing for a living. As if she was going to continue doing so. She sounded like the legionaries did when they talked about fighting. She sounded like a warrior...

Her head spun. She was a nobody, she thought, a prole; just an orphan from the slum with no past and no future. Yet here she was alive and well, after fighting and killing an assassin and then three goblins all on her own. A curious sensation filled her chest. It was warm, comforting, and made her stand a little straighter. It was something she had never felt before, and it took a while for her to understand what it was. It was pride, she finally realized as a faint smile came to her lips. For the first time in her life, she felt truly proud of herself.

The smell of feces interrupted her chain of thought however. Proud or not, she was still in a sewer. It was time to go.

She started off down the tunnel, getting used to the weight of the leather cuirass. She did not like it at all. It was too big in the shoulders, too tight in the chest, loose in the waist, and tight again in the hips. Clearly, she thought, it had not been made for her sex.

In time the tunnel narrowed and turned into a round tube, while the dry ledges to either side vanished. With no other choice, Teresa waded into the mire and pushed on to what she hoped would soon be the exit.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v90/subrosa_florens/oblivion/Oblivion058.jpg

Not very long afterward the light seemed to brighten in the tunnel ahead of her, prompting Teresa to stop and raise her free hand to her face. Carefully grasping the Night Eye goggles to avoid smearing muck over the lenses, she drew them up from her eyes and rested them on her forehead.

The tunnel was plunged into shadows that obscured everything in dark swathes. Yet in that near inky darkness she could make out a red glow ahead. It was steady, not the guttering of a torch or lantern, and her heart leaped at the thought that she might finally be nearing the way out of the dank and dark underworld.

She tried not to get her hopes up too high and drew the goggles back down over her eyes. Once again the colors of the world dissolved into a dull grey. Looking more closely ahead, she saw what she thought might be bars blocking the tunnel far ahead.

Gripping her bow tightly in hand, she slowly crept forward. She stayed as near to the wall as she could because the goo was not as deep there. It occurred to her that it would also prevent her from creating a silhouette in the tunnel, and she suddenly felt pleased with herself for being such a professional sneak, even if it was completely by accident.

She came to a gate of rusted iron bars that blocked the passage. She could smell fresh air now, and hear the lapping of water beyond. Fumbling through the pockets of her sack cloth breeches, Teresa produced the heavy iron key that Baurus had given her. With trembling hands she put it into the large square lock, but before she could turn it, she found the door swinging open under her hand.

She remembered the lockpicks she found on the thief's body. Perhaps he had picked the lock to enter this way? Or maybe the goblins had? She shrugged. It did not really matter, she thought, because now she was free.

Moving through the door, she found herself standing at the end of the stone tunnel, with the vastness of Lake Rumare spread out before her. Again Teresa pushed the goggles up on her forehead, but this time did not fuss about the lenses. The giant moon Masser glowed above her with roseate light, and the night sky around it glittered with a thousand silver stars.

Teresa looked down at herself. The sack cloth breeches that she wore were soaked with filth and blood, as was the leather cuirass and gauntlets that she had appropriated in the tunnels. Squatting down by the edge of the water, she stared at her reflection with disgust. Her pale skin was as grimy as her clothing, and her long brown hair was matted with blood.

Without a second thought she cast her bow and arrow bag aside and leaped into the water. It was cool, clean, and caressed her like the touch of the mother that she always wished she had. Staying under the surface as long as her lungs would allow, she rose up and took a deep breath of fresh air.

Then she set to pulling off her gloves, sandals, and cuirass. She knew the water would ruin the leather, but it was not like any of it had been in pristine condition to begin with, and there was no way she was going to put it back on her skin the way it was. Her sack cloth breeches and shirt followed, until finally she stood naked in the lake and let her body sink into the cool embrace of the water.

Posted by: D.Foxy Mar 29 2010, 04:35 PM

Ahhhh....feels like the first time I read your writing...

Who said you can't go home again?

Posted by: Winter Wolf Mar 29 2010, 05:10 PM

That chapter was awesome. The pick of the bunch no doubt. It had perfect pace and flow, great description and a top notch ending. Bravo.

I really loved this part of the story. The style with which you write reflection is second to none.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Mar 29 2010, 05:14 PM

Oh, yes, that bath at the end of the sewers. That is almost a ritual for me, a rite of passage, if you will. Nice to see that echoed here again.

Posted by: Olen Mar 29 2010, 06:07 PM

The flow of this pieve is very good. It all reads smoothly and happens at the right rate to keep me fixed without rushing. I like the character development too, it seems the prouder warrior side was always there but now she's found it it will come to the fore.

Nice word choice there.

That line made me smile.

Posted by: Destri Melarg Mar 31 2010, 01:21 AM

We finally get a faint smile from Teresa!

This chapter was peaceful, but certainly not quiet. You continue to develop the character before our eyes, from her revulsion at taking the dead man’s greaves to her growing sense of pride and her recognition of the reasoning of a thief.

I always thought it was very interesting that the game opens by forcing you to wade through a sewer for your freedom. I am glad to see that in Teresa’s world a sewer is a sewer, in all of its disgusting glory. That bath at the end is, as hautee put it, ‘a rite of passage’ that precedes Teresa’s entry into her new life.

Very Shawshank Redemption.

Posted by: SubRosa Mar 31 2010, 05:48 PM

That would be Thomas Wolfe, and that is not until Chapter 6...


Winter Wolf: Thank you Wolf. There were a lot of questions there that needed addressing. As often happens IRL, Teresa will never know the answers.


haute ecole rider: "It's been years since I waded through sewers for fun." OOps, wrong game.


Olen: Thank you Olen. All of her life, Teresa has never known what she is capable of. Everyone around her has told her that she is a loser, and she believed them. The Emperor changed all that. Now the person who has been buried under the muck of Teresa's life is finally emerging.

As much as I would like to take the credit for roseate, I must admit that I have seen hot collie use it so often that I was inspired to steal it...


Destri Melarg: Yes, the first faint smile! About time too eh? Well, there are many more to come. I am tempted to go back to the prologue and tweak the first paragraph a bit to get a faint smile in there as well. Seeing that the thread is named after that trait, it does seem kind of odd that we do not see one until Chapter 3.

Good eye by yourself and haute on the initiation of the bath at the end of the sewers. It not only cleans her of the physical muck from her prison experience, but also washes away her old life as well. When she emerges, she is forever changed, born into a new life. We will begin seeing some of the evidence of that this next post.

* * *

Chapter 4a - For The Emperor

12th - 23rd Second Seed, 3E433

Still dripping with water from her bath, Teresa dressed and took in her surroundings. Far in the distance across the lake from her she could just barely make out a crumbling ruin of white stone blocks. Its elegant, curved spires were broken and its walls shattered. For some reason it made her think of White Gold Tower in the center of the Imperial City. She had heard that had been built by the Ayleids long before the Empire had ever existed. So she imagined that the ruins might have been built by them as well. She saw the distant glow of a campfire somewhere in the fallen stones, and wondered who might be there. Probably no one she wanted to meet, Teresa reasoned.

Looking behind her she could see the massive, dark stone blocks of the Imperial Prison looming high up on the hill that crowned the City Isle, and beyond that the even greater mass of the city itself in the distance. She certainly did not want to go back that way either, she thought. One experience in the Imperial Prison had been enough for a lifetime!

Teresa knew the prison was at the north side of the City Isle, and Baurus had said that Weynon was west of the city, across the lake. So she reasoned that if she kept the city to her left and followed the shore that should take her in the right direction. She would just have to hope she found a place to cross somewhere as she travelled.

So bow in hand she began to walk along the shore. Here and there she stopped when she noticed plants that she knew had alchemical properties. She could sell those to Claudette at the Gilded Carafe back in the Imperial City, Teresa thought. She might even use them herself once she got back to the Waterfront shack where she had her mortar and pestle hidden.

She had learned a long time ago to grind up simple poisons to sell to the thieves and ruffians on the Waterfront, she thought. They were always looking for an edge; to see in the dark, become invisible, or quite simply to poison someone. Most did not want to spend the time to learn to make potions themselves. Teresa, on the other hand, had nothing but time. It was not like she was going out robbing people or drinking herself silly in the taverns after all.

What would people think of her back in the city when they heard this story? Teresa wondered. Then again, maybe it would be better if she never mentioned it to anyone. No sense admitting to escaping from prison after all, she thought. The less anyone knew about that, the better.

A familiar clicking sound broke her from her reverie. It was a mud crab, she knew. She had run across many of them at the Waterfront. Nasty creatures, she thought as she looked around for it. Then she spotted it coming out of the water behind her, its beady eyes staring directly at her and pincers reaching out.

Teresa stepped back to give herself plenty of room. Then readying her Flare spell, she gestured at the creature and loosed a bolt of fire into its shell. It jumped and began to furiously click its pincers at her. Teresa fired another bolt and it fell into a smoldering heap on the shore.

The smell of the roasted crab meat brought a growl from her stomach. How long had it really been since she had last eaten? Teresa wondered. Too long, her stomach replied with another moan. She descended on the crab with gusto, cracking open its still-hot shell with her hands and digging out the meat with her fingers. She had always like crab, it was usually the only fresh thing she was ever able to eat.

Eating her fill, Teresa continued on her journey west along the shore. She came across another sewer exit after a few miles. Like the prison, once in there was enough for a lifetime as well, she thought, and steered well clear of it.

By now the sky was lightening to the east, and Teresa began to find it difficult to keep her eyes open. Casting about for a place to sleep, she found a large clump of bushes not too far inland and hid herself within. She did not want the assassins finding her, she thought, nor the Imperial Legion for that matter. No sooner had she lain down, she found herself falling into a deep sleep.

* * *

She was standing in a large cavern. Unlike the corridors and chambers underneath the Imperial Prison, its rough stone was carved out by the forces of nature. Shadows clung to the walls of the cave, and the wood elf sensed that deeper pools of darkness within them were of smaller tunnels leading further into the bowels of Nirn.

Before her however, the ceiling of the cavern was open to the sky. Shafts of yellow sunlight slanted through the gaping hole, illuminating the center of the chamber in golden light. Beneath these fingers of the sun Teresa saw a large pool of water, and as she approached it she found that its crystal clear waves held a small forest of marine plants gently waving under its surface.

Teresa stood in the light of the sun for long moments, allowing it to bathe her in its light. Then she sat, sliding her bare legs into the clear water. It was warm against her skin, and she watched how the water bent the image of her legs as she gently kicked them back and forth under the waves.

That is when she realized she was not alone in the cavern. A dark figure loomed across the pool from her. Standing at the edge of the shadows, it seemed to be wearing a black cloak, whose hood completely obscured its head. Somehow Teresa sensed the figure was female, although how she knew that was a mystery to her, as the cloak she wore betrayed no features at all.

Teresa's breath caught in her throat, and she quickly pulled her legs from the water. Leaping to her feet, the wood elf stared at the other woman. Yet the dark figure did not move. Teresa was not sure if she even breathed.

* * *

Teresa woke as the sun was lowering on the western horizon. Shaking her head at the fleeting memory of the dream, she rose to her feet and cast about herself. There was no grotto, no pool, and certainly no cloaked figure. She was completely alone by the lake shore. The only sounds that came to her ears were the lapping of waves from the nearby lake, and the distant cawing of crows.

Well, that had certainly been strange, the wood elf thought as she stretched her limbs. Yet the more awake she felt, the more the details of the dream slipped away from her memory. It should come as no surprise to have odd dreams, she imagined, given what she had been through. Let alone spending her first night alone in the wilderness.

She shrugged, giving the dream no more thought as the weight in her pocket drew her attention. While there was still some daylight remaining she drew forth the Amulet of Kings. For the first time since the Emperor had given it to her she examined it closely.

The central red stone was huge, easily the size of her palm, and cut into a diamond shape. She had originally thought it was a ruby because of its red color. However, now that she took the time to really study it, she saw that it seemed to pulse with an inner red glow. As she watched its surface, she could swear she saw tiny shifts and eddies of color, as if some energy were swirling beneath the crystalline surface of the gem. Clearly, it was no ordinary jewel, she thought.

A gold band wrapped around the main stone, and was also diamond shaped. Eight smaller gemstones were laid into the band equally along its length. Sapphires, emeralds, pearls, and a few she was not sure about. The entire thing was held by a great gold chain. It was remarkably light for its size, and Teresa could swear that it felt warm in her hands.

Out of curiosity, she lifted the chain around her head and dropped it onto her shoulders. Yet somehow it slipped from her fingers and fell into her lap instead. She tried again, with the same result. Then she undid the clasp on the chain, and this time looped it around her neck and then tried to snap it shut once more. Again, she found the amulet falling loose from her grasp.

So it was true, Teresa thought. Only someone with the blood of the kings could wear the amulet. Now she saw why it was so important. It would prove who the rightful Emperor was, and who was not.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Mar 31 2010, 10:00 PM

This was really good.

I noticed the dream is new this time around. Interesting. I'm sure you're using pagan imagery, but I can't help thinking of the Native American myths of the spirit guide, as well as the Druidic system of mentoring. This is very TES-flavored, and excellent foreshadowing.

I did notice one thing:

Judging from the context, especially the sentence that follows, are you missing a not?

I'm interested in seeing the role this dark figure plays in Teresa's life in the future. I have a feeling it's going to be something along the lines of that "snake in the belly" feeling Julian gets from time to time.

Posted by: Broken-Scale Apr 1 2010, 05:51 PM

Ah, reading this brings me back to the first time I read this story, way back on the old forums. I was late then, and I'm a little late to the story now. old habits die hard, I suppose.

Anyway, I love rereading the beginning of Teresa's story, especially now that you've improved and added some things. Kinda miss some of the things that you bring in much later in the story, but a fresh view of an semi-old tale never hurts. Great job, and I can't wait to see how else you tweak these first moments of Teresa's story..

Posted by: SubRosa Apr 2 2010, 04:58 PM

haute ecole rider: You are right on all counts. Neo-Paganism is an all-you-can-eat salad bar sort of religion. We take things from all over the place, including the discipline of Psychology (especially Jungian). Then there is Core Shamanism, which is a collection of Shamanic practices from all over the globe - North & South American Native religion, Australian, Siberian, etc... that all are startling in their similarities. The names for things change, but little else. Witchcraft itself is the last remnant of European Shamanic practices that go back to the Stone Age (obviously having seen some changes over the millenia), so it does mesh very well with them.

The scene in the grotto, and following ones in the same vein, are all drawn entirely from my own personal experiences. They are actually a mix, some with the goddess whom I am dedicated to, and some with my spirit guide. My own practice has a very strong Shamanic influence, so it will come as no surprise to see it also strongly parallels the traditions you mentioned.

If it does seem to have a strong TES flavor, that is purely by accident, because I am totally throwing the TES lore (what there is of it) out the window with this. It does work well with generic fantasy settings however, so that is probably the sense you are getting.

And you were right about my missing not, thank you for wrangling it up with that horsey nose of yours.


Broken-Scale: Hi Scale! Welcome to Chorrol. I am glad you like Teresa 2.0. The good thing about taking the time to go back is that when I do finally get to where I left off, it should be much stronger than before, because I am writing with an eye for building foundations. Old habits die hard is someone else's story though...


* * *

Chapter 4b - For The Emperor

Setting aside the amulet, Teresa took the time for a quick soak in the lake and set off westward again, looking for another crab for dinner. It did not take very long for one to turn up and fill her stomach with its succulent meat. She came across some berries soon after and gathered them up for later, along with a clump of asparagus.

Teresa marveled at the beauty of the wilderness as she made her way along the shore. She had never imagined it would be like this. She had always thought the world outside the city was a dark and terrifying place. But instead it was quiet and almost peaceful if you did not count the mud crabs. The air was clean in her lungs, and everything was wide open around her. It was a world with no limits, filled with color and life.

It was long after dark when she saw the light of a torch deeper inland. Pulling her goggles down over her eyes, she looked closer. The light of the brand hurt her eyes, but she could at least see everything its flame did not illuminate. There was a large clump of towering rocks, she saw, and what appeared to be a rough wooden door leading into them. To either side of the door was hung a long string of skulls, and in front of it was the torchbearer himself, a goblin holding an axe with his free hand.

So much for peaceful, Teresa thought, and instantly dropped into a crouch. Then she realized that she was far outside of the illumination of the goblin's torch and stood back up. Looking to either side, there was no sign of any other goblins. It was just him and her.

She drew an arrow from the bag fastened to her right hip and set it on the nock. Raising the bow, she pulled it to half-tension and sighted in on the goblin. He was a long way off, so she raised her bow to compensate. It would be a difficult shot, but she knew she could make it.

But should she make it? Teresa found herself wondering. She knew the goblin would kill her without hesitation, so she felt no sympathy for it. But there were probably others of its kind in the cave. Sooner or later another goblin would come out to find him dead, she knew. Then they might go looking to see who did it, and having a tribe of goblins hunting her would not be good.

She lowered her bow and put the arrow back in its bag. This was your lucky day goblin, she thought. Giving the cave a wide berth, Teresa continued to make her way west along the island. She also realized something. Just because she could kill, it did not mean she should. That was a very sobering thought, especially when she wondered how many others might look at her in the future and have to make the same decision.

In time she came to the edge of a massive wooden bridge that extended north across the lake, which was perhaps only half a mile wide at this point. Once again she saw the light of a torch ahead of her, this time on the span itself. Only now it was moving, crossing from the opposite shore to her side of the lake. The sound of hooves clomping on wood came to her ears, and as the torch came nearer she could see it was a single legionary riding a horse.

The law, Teresa thought, just what she needed. She was not sure what was worse, them or the goblins. She wondered if they were looking for her? Or had her escape gone unnoticed in the chaos that must have followed the death of the Emperor?

She briefly thought Baurus might have cleared her name. But then she realized that might tip off the assassins and make them start looking for her. So he had probably done nothing, Teresa reasoned. That meant she was on her own, as she had been ever since she stepped foot in the sewers under the prison.

Teresa sat as still as she could in the bushes and hoped the legionary would not notice her. Her heart beat loudly in her chest as he came near. It seemed so deafening to her that he must surely hear it. Her hands were damp with sweat, and she found that her lips had gone dry. The last thing she wanted was to have to tangle with a legionary. They were metal-clad monsters who lived to fight, she thought. Worse, if you killed one of them the rest would never stop hunting you. They would track you down and butcher you no matter what it took.

She could smell the horse as the soldier came alongside her. The crackling of his torch was loud in her ears, loud enough to drown out the roaring of her heart, and she held herself absolutely still. Shadow hide me, she prayed.

Then he was past her and riding down the road deeper inland. Teresa let out a sigh of relief, only then realizing that she had been holding her breath. She waited in the brush until he was long out of sight, and only then rose and quickly scuttled across the bridge.

Reaching the other side without incident, she continued her way west down a wooden dock that hugged the shore. She found several crates and barrels on it, but all were empty except for huge spools of rope, which she imagined must be to tie boats up to the pier.

Dawn was nearing, and Teresa felt exhaustion settling into her once again. Finding another hiding spot, she laid down for another day's sleep. She always had preferred sleeping in the daylight, she mused as she drifted off. The night was so much more comforting to be out and about in.

Once more she woke in late afternoon. She could not believe how late she was sleeping. But then again, she had never been through anything like this before. Being poor, she had always walked everywhere she needed to go in the city, rather than riding a horse or carriage as the rich people did. But she had never made a trek like this before either. Let alone ever killed people...

She risked another quick dip in the lake to wash off the dirt and dust of traveling then resumed her march west along the lake shore. She found a fisherman's shack not too far from the dock, and stopped to buy bread and fruit from the owner, using some of the money she had found on the dead thief in the sewer.

Soon the lake curved away to her left, and far down its coast she could make out a gigantic bridge that spanned the miles of water between the City Isle and the far shore. Not a simple wooden affair such as the one she had crossed, but rather a massive stone edifice. She knew that was the West Bridge, outside of the Talos Plaza district. She had seen it often enough from the Waterfront.

So Weynon must be somewhere directly ahead of her, she reasoned. With that in mind she left the lake behind and continued west, plunging headlong into the great forest. It was long after dark when she passed what she imagined must be the Red Ring Road that she had heard surrounded the city on the outer shore of the lake.

After that the only sign of habitation she came across was a broken fort, which she gave a wide berth. With the sky full of stars and the twin moons casting their light down upon the landscape she could see well enough that she did not need the goggles. Teresa liked how they illuminated everything, but not how they turned the world a dull grey. She would only use those when she really had to, she thought.

Traveling through the night, Teresa marveled at the beauty of the forest around her. It felt so pristine and clean. She often found herself stopping just to touch a tree, or admire the way the moonlight filtered through its leaves. With no hustle or bustle, no footpads or legionaries, no stench of garbage, no cold stone looming up from every direction, it seemed like paradise to the young wood elf.

But what she loved best of all were the deer. They moved with such grace that it took her breath away, leaping over rocks and brush with an ease she never would have imagined possible given their spindly legs. Teresa knew most people would hunt them for their meat, but she did not have the heart to shoot them. They were just too beautiful, and were of no threat to her.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v90/subrosa_florens/oblivion/Oblivion359.jpg

The wolves were another story however. Her first encounter was with a single wolf, which gave Teresa the opportunity to use her innate Bosmer ability to command animals. It was something she had only used before on rats in the shantytown she called home. She was not even sure if would work on an animal as large as a wolf when she saw it, and was greatly relieved when the predator wagged its tail at her and licked her cheeks after she cast it. Much better than having her face bitten off, she thought.

That was the only lone wolf she saw though. After that they all came in packs, which made her ability to command a single animal a moot point. Most of them appeared to want as little do with her as she did with them. However, when one pack became too curious for comfort Teresa was able to shoo them away a Flare spell in front of their noses. All animals were afraid of fire after all, she thought. Or at least that was what Teresa had been told.

She continued traveling that way for nearly a week, moving by night and sleeping in the day. She was not exactly sure where she was going, but she was not worried. Something inside of her had faith that she would reach her destination. It was a strange feeling, believing in herself, but one that Teresa was slowly becoming accustomed to.

* * *

She was standing in a large cavern whose rough stone walls were carved out by the forces of nature. Shadows clung to the walls of the cave, the darkest of which were smaller tunnels leading further into the bowels of Nirn. Before her the cavern was open to the sky. Sunlight beamed through the gaping hole, illuminating the center of the chamber in golden light. Beneath this Teresa saw a large pool of water, whose crystal clear waves held a small forest of marine plants.

Somehow, all of this seemed familiar to the wood elf. As if she had been to this place before. She stepped into the light of the sun, allowing it to wrap her in its warmth. Then she sat, sliding her bare legs into the clear water. It was warm against her skin, and she watched how the light bent the image of her legs as she gently kicked them back and forth under the waves.

This had happened before! the Bosmer thought, just like this. Looking up, she saw a dark figure across the pool from her. Standing at the edge of the shadows, she seemed to be wearing a black cloak, whose hood completely obscured her head.

Teresa's breath caught in her throat, and she quickly pulled her legs from the water. Leaping to her feet, the wood elf stared at the other woman. Yet the dark figure did move. Teresa was not sure if she even breathed.

The wood elf took a step forward. Who was this woman in black? she wondered, and what was she doing here, in her dream? For the wood elf was not only certain this was a dream, but that the other woman was not merely a product of her own imagination.

The figure turned as Teresa approached. As she drew nearer, the wood elf saw that it was not a cloak that the other woman wore. Rather it was black feathers that seemed to completely envelop her frame.

The figure began to raise its head…

Posted by: Destri Melarg Apr 2 2010, 09:35 PM

To quote mALX: “Grrr! Cliffhanger! Arrggh!”

The dream sequences are really vivid and add a supernatural undertone to Teresa’s story. Are they going to be a recurring theme? I guess I’ll have to keep reading to find out.

I like the reason that Teresa sites for not shooting the goblin. It’s interesting to compare her reasoning there to her reasoning for not killing a deer.

I also like the fact that in your version of Cyrodiil wolves travel in packs.

Posted by: canis216 Apr 3 2010, 01:54 AM

Mmm... deer. Very tasty. Not as good as elk though...

Ahem. Well written, quite enjoyable. Very heavy on character development, which is good. Keep 'em coming.

Posted by: SubRosa Apr 4 2010, 06:29 PM

Destri Melarg: Thank you D. Yes, the dreams will be a recurring feature. They are a part of Bosmer spirituality that I am creating, completely outside of TES lore. I am hoping that it will add more depth to both the setting, and Teresa herself.

I believe ultimately Teresa does not want to kill things. She does have the ability to do it without hesitation when in danger, but that is about it. I suppose there is a bit of the proto-Teresa doctrine there. Don't kill unless you have to. Of course she has yet to learn in her heart that life requires death to survive, and that sacrifice is a part of the natural order of the world.

Wolves travel in packs IRL, so they do so in my writing. I want my writing to seem like a real world, so I do my best to model the behaviour of real critters.


canis216: Venison is quite tasty! I have had it a few times, and have always enjoyed it. Never had elk or moose, or anything larger though.

Thank you C. Character development is my focus, so expect more of that than action.



* * *
Chapter 4c - For The Emperor

Teresa woke as the sun was setting, and wondered at the strange dream. It had all seemed so familiar, she thought. She was certain she had it before, sometime after escaping from the prison. Yet she could not recall exactly when.

The croaking of a raven drew her thoughts, and she looked up to see the black bird sitting on a branch above her. It turned its head from one side to another, as if to look upon her with each eye in turn. Then with a loud cry it leapt into the air and flew toward the setting sun. On impulse, Teresa quickly rose, gathered up her things, and followed in the same direction.

The ground had been gradually sloping upward since she left the lake behind, perhaps as long as a week ago. Now she found herself climbing an even steeper slope, pausing occasionally to gather up the summer bolete, lavender, viper's bugloss, and fly amanita she found there. The sky had gone dark and the stars were coming out when she finally reached the crest of the hill. Atop it she was greeted by the sight of high stone walls in front of her and stretching off out of her view to either side.

She saw torches on the battlements, and lights emanating from windows in towers regularly spaced along the wall. Here and there she saw soldiers marching back and forth behind the parapets. Continuing ahead, she soon came upon a path that ringed the walls. Following it, she found herself at a huge gate in the wall, with a large stable and horse paddock nearby.

She froze when she saw the two guards standing at the gate. They stared back at her, and she willed herself to begin walking again. As she drew near she found that unlike the members of the Imperial Legion, these men wore coats of mail covered with only a few pieces of plate at the shoulders. A quilted vest was draped over their mail and split at the waist, hanging as far down as their knees. A white tree was emblazoned in the center of the vests, as well as on the round shields they held in their left hands. At their hips they wore the same steel arming swords she was used to seeing the Imperial Legion carry however.

"Good evening citizen," one of the guardsmen said as she approached. "Welcome to Chorrol."

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v90/subrosa_florens/oblivion/Oblivion342.jpg

Teresa stopped and resisted the urge to look to see if he had been talking to someone else. No guardsman had ever spoken to her in that tone before. It was... friendly. The way soldiers treated regular people. Teresa found herself at a loss for words.

"It looks like you have been traveling for some time ma'am," the other guard offered up, filling the awkward silence that was developing.

"Umm, yes," Teresa forced herself to speak. "A long time. I was looking for Weynon Priory."

"Not going to become a monk I hope!" the first guard said with a grin, then stopped himself abruptly. "Not that there is anything wrong with monks of course, praise Talos. Just a bit dull is all."

"No, I, um..." Teresa began, scrambling for something to say. "I'm looking for my brother. He is one of the monks there. I came out from the Imperial City to surprise him with a visit. Only I have never been here before..."

"I didn't think there were any Bosmer monks at Weynon?" the second guard said quizzically.

"Oh, he's my step-brother," Teresa replied quickly. "He's an Imperial like you men are. But we are so close I forget. It is been so long since I have seen him... I cannot wait."

"Well, Weynon is back down that road there," the first guard said, pointing down another road that lay beyond the stable. "If you follow that a few miles it will take you past some farms and right to the priory. But I would not try going there now. You better get a room here in the city for the night and go in the morning."

"That is ok, I like walking at night," Teresa said, turning to leave.

"Wait," the first guard said, reaching out to take her arm in a gentle grip. "Please. You look like you know your way around the woods, but that's not a good idea, not these days."

"Ever since the Emperor died, we have had reports you see..." the second guard said in a hushed whisper. "Of people disappearing, and legionaries turning up dead on the road, torn to pieces. It's the Daedra they say!"

Teresa's heart skipped a beat, not just from the guardsman's grip, but also from the news. They both seemed serious, and genuinely concerned for her safety. She was not sure how to feel about that. She was not sure how to feel about so many things these days.

"Oh," she said, thinking about her long journey through the wilderness. It had been very quiet and relatively peaceful, certainly more than the Waterfront had ever been. Yet if there really were Daedra roaming the land, what would she have done if one found her? "I had no idea. I had better stay here then."

The first guard recommended she stay at an inn called the Oak and Crosier that was just inside the gate. She took his advice and was glad for it. The common room was clean, bright, and filled with people eating and drinking. It seemed very friendly and comfortable-looking. Talking to the owner, a female Khajiit named Talasma, Teresa found that the rooms were not nearly as expensive as she imagined for a place so large and well apportioned. After exchanging more of her sewer-found gold she acquired a room, a bath, and her first real meal since escaping the prison.

The next morning she went shopping. Her first stop was the Mages Guild, which she had heard of from some of the people talking in the inn's common room. Their Altmer alchemist looked at her like she was a creature rather than a person. That did not bother Teresa, much. It was how she expected people to treat her after all.

The Altmer did give her a nice sum of coins for the plants she had gathered on her journey. Enough that Teresa began to think that roaming the countryside for alchemical ingredients might turn out to be well worth the effort. Certainly not enough to get rich, but far better than she was doing now.

After that a smithy known as Fire and Steel caught her eye. There Teresa found herself parting with her cracked and brittle leathers and her sword. But in return she found herself the owner of a brand new set of leather armor - cuirass, gauntlets, greaves, and boots - covering her from head to toe with the thick, yet supple material. Where the old cuirass from the sewer had felt bulky and stiff, this seemed to move with her willowy frame rather than against it. The owner said it was made for female wood elves like herself, so she was not too surprised. She also showed Teresa how to care for the leather with a solution of oils and beeswax that she sold to the wood elf as well.

From there Teresa stopped at the Northern Goods Trade Store, which she found was run by a friendly Argonian named Seed Neeus. From her Teresa purchased a simple linen tunic to replace her nearly ruined sack-cloth clothing, a pack, a bedroll, and other traveling equipment. She was pleasantly surprised when she saw that the Argonian merchant had a supply of ground henna leaves, and on a whim bought them as well.

Then she was back to the inn, where she went up to her room and set to the task of mixing the henna with water and applying the paste to her hair. She had never dyed her hair before, but knew enough other women who did, so it was not too difficult, just a bit messy and time-consuming.

When she was finished she stepped back to get a good look at herself in the mirror and nearly gasped. Not only was her formerly mousy brown hair now a brilliant crimson mane, but the rest of her had changed as well. The street urchin she had known all of her life was gone. Instead a lithe forester clad in leather had taken her place. She stood tall and straight, with emerald eyes that showed a quiet confidence behind them. The very picture of a wood elf from all the stories she had heard growing up, except for her ghostly pale skin of course.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v90/subrosa_florens/oblivion/Oblivion356.jpg

"It is our choices in life that define us," she heard the voice of the Emperor in her mind, as clearly as if he was standing next to her. "Some people choose poorly. Some choose to be something better."

The thought of the Emperor made her eyes moisten and a lump form in her throat. Yet she willed herself not to cry. She owed him better than that, Teresa thought. Swallowing down the knot in her throat, she looked at herself in the mirror and wondered what the old man would think if he could see her now. She had the feeling that he would be pleased.

The thought brought a faint smile to her lips. Teresa found that she liked the new person she was becoming.

Posted by: minque Apr 4 2010, 07:40 PM

Ohhhh

i...am also liking Teresa more and more, as am I liking that the setting is oblivion, because i never played it really, my machine is not good enough.

Teresa is a very likable person, and your writing is purely professional

More please?

Posted by: Olen Apr 4 2010, 08:33 PM

Yes I must agree that you've handled the development of Teresa excellently. She's quite a different character now compared to the beginning but the change was progressive and quite believable. Especially as it was already there and she was unaware of it but the change in circumstances and location have allowed her to become herself almost. I'm interested to see how she develops now she has (I think) developed in that way. Also the amount of killing in volved in the main quest is something I'm interested to see affect her.

So yes, I'm loving this character development and the writing.

More?

Posted by: Zalphon Apr 5 2010, 12:03 AM

I like the description. Very nice work.

Posted by: Winter Wolf Apr 5 2010, 06:33 AM

The thought of the guards caring about Teresa is highly comical. I love it!!

Our little & lost Bosmer girl might have to start changing her views on the outside world. The waterfront has been under the Hieronymus Lex spell for so long that Teresa does unfortunately have a biased view of the world. Not that it is her fault, of course, she has yet to experience the wider outside...

Ah, the red flowing locks. At last the real Teresa is standing up. Awesome.

Posted by: Destri Melarg Apr 6 2010, 08:44 AM

I think that might be the first time in your writing that I have heard Teresa use the word ‘confident’ to describe herself! This chapter has the feel of what could be many 'aha' moments in the development of the character. It comes across as very subtle and organic, the culmination of the first stage of her journey executed by a writer who cares deeply about ‘getting it right’. In this chapter, SubRosa, you have absolutely nailed it.

Posted by: SubRosa Apr 6 2010, 09:05 PM

minque: Oblivion can be quite the resource hog. I do find it to be more fun than Morrowind though. My fiction is mostly true to the game, except in a few places. The most glaring one is that in the game Cyrodiil is tiny, just 20 miles or so across. In my fiction I have dramatically expanded the size of the province, making it take weeks to travel across, rather than just one day.

More coming.


Olen: Thank you O. Lots more character development coming as well. The first six chapters were originally written by me just to establish a baseline of who Teresa was before the real development began. But when I wrote them, I discovered that she was also changing quite a bit just in them. It is nice when that happens without real planning.

This chapter will be the last of the Main Quest for Teresa however. The events in the MQ will continue, but without her being directly involved. Teresa will learn of some of the events as she goes about her adventures, and she will experience some of the fallout however.


Zalphon: Thank you Z.


Winter Wolf: Thanks Wolf. Yep, she is finally red again. It was strange seeing her with brown hair. This of course means her temper cannot be too far behind though...


Destri Melarg: It is indeed the first time Teresa has ever looked in the mirror and actually liked what she saw. It is the first chance she has had to pause and really start taking in how much the Emperor has changed her.


All: This post will finish out Chapter 4, and include a guest appearance by another character...


* * *
Chapter 4d - For The Emperor

After buying some bread and cheese for the road from Talasma, Teresa set off on her journey to Weynon. The priory was not difficult to find, even for someone traveling across the countryside rather than by the road. The chapel tower loomed high enough above the trees that Teresa could see it from quite a distance. Drawing nearer, she found that a chest-high stone wall surrounded the grounds, which was divided up by low walls into cultivated fields, grazing for cows, sheep, and goats, a stable, and a smithy.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v90/subrosa_florens/oblivion/Oblivion343.jpg

It was a miniature city all in itself, Teresa thought. People dressed in ordinary work clothes moved to and fro tending the soil or the livestock, and she received more than a few stares when she pulled herself over the wall and leaped onto the grounds themselves. No one tried to stop her however, and Teresa made her way to the chapel itself.

There she found an actual monk, a young Imperial who introduced himself as Brother Piner. While he wore the simple brown cassock of a cleric, Teresa noted the hilt of a sword rising from the folds of his robe. When she asked for Jauffre, his eyes narrowed.

"What brings you to Weynon?" he asked, extending his hand in greeting. It seemed odd to Teresa. Since when did anyone ever want to shake her hand? Yet by reflex she put her hand within the Imperial's. His grasp was firmer than she would have imagined for a monk, and she felt his thumb press into the gap between the knuckles of her first and second fingers. For some reason that struck her as being odd as well, although she was not sure why.

"What is your business with Jauffre?" the monk continued, releasing her hand.

"I was sent by Baurus," she answered, wondering if she had failed some kind of test.

The monk questioned Teresa further, but she refused to reveal more than that. The Emperor had trusted her to deliver the amulet, she thought, and after what had happened under the prison she was not about to take any chances with it.

Finally the monk walked with her to their chapter house next door. It was a large building of stone, and even included a little arched canopy for carriages to stop underneath. To keep them out of the rain, Teresa imagined. The windows were narrow slits, too slender for a person to fit through. But her archer's eye noted they were wide enough to easily fire a bow through. While at first glance it seemed like a quaint country priory, she realized that it could easily double as a fortress.

Beyond the heavy oak front door she found a simple but comfortable abode. Yet for all of its size, it seemed strangely empty to the wood elf. Given all of its space and the number of laborers working in the fields, she would have imagined there would be dozens of monks in the monastery proper. Yet as Piner took Teresa to Jauffre's office on the second floor, she did not see another soul within the building. Had they all gone somewhere? Teresa wondered as the monk told her to wait in an anteroom, while he went through another door to announce her.

So Teresa waited, but the monk did not return, nor did anyone else issue from the office. Time seemed to drag on forever. What was taking so long? the wood elf thought. She only needed a few moments to give Jauffre the damned amulet, then she could get out of there and get back home.

Perhaps she should have told Piner that she had the amulet after all? she mused, that might have gotten some action. Memory of the red-robed assassins dispelled that thought however. Better to be safe, she reasoned, than sorry.

So with nothing else to do, she paced back and forth, growing more frustrated with every moment. Was Jauffre really in there? she wondered, or was Piner just stalling her? Why would he do that? Could he be one of the assassins? Could Jauffre be dead even now, and the other Blades whom she expected to be here?

No, she thought, not with all of the people going about their business outside. If there had been a bloodbath like under the prison, they would have all fled. Besides, there were no signs of fighting either inside the building or without. No broken furniture, or bloodstains, or smell of dead bodies, or clouds of flies that flocked to such things.

Finally Teresa could take no more, and shoved the door to the office open and burst inside. Within she found Brother Piner standing in front of a desk. Behind it sat a middle-aged Breton with a shaven head, also wearing an ordinary monk's robe. Teresa knew instantly that he was no priest. He sat with his back too straight, his eyes were too hard, and his every motion was that of a soldier. Teresa had seen it all her life. You could always spot a legionary, no matter how hard he tried to hide what he was. Their soldier's demeanor was burned into them like a brand into a horse.

Standing to one side of the room was a tall Redguard. Her straight, milk-white hair was tied in a ponytail, and her face was worn with care. She wore a full suit of leather armor, much like Teresa's own. An arming sword hung from one her hips, and a quiver of arrows from the other. She had that same stiffness in her frame and aura of danger hanging about her as did the seated monk.

Another soldier, Teresa thought, although at least she was not pretending to be a monk.

"What in Nirn do you think you are doing!" the shaven-headed man growled, rising from his seat. That also made the sword tucked under his robe plain to see. "We have important matters to discuss. Now wait outside and you will be dealt with appropriately."

Teresa felt herself wilt under his harsh words and even hasher stare. She wanted to squeak like a mouse and scurry off to hide. Exactly what she had done all her life when the Imperial Legion turned their wrath upon her. But she did not do so this time, much to her own surprise. Instead she shut the door behind her with only a slight tremble in her hand. When she turned back she saw the Redguard had a hand on her sword, as if it were just casually resting there.

"I am here for the Emperor." Teresa found herself spitting out with an extreme effort of will. "He sent me here."

"What?" the Breton said in surprise, his tone more gentle now. "Just who are you? What are you doing here?"

Teresa took a moment to calm herself. For days she had imagined this moment, rehearsed it all in her mind. But now that she was here she did not know what to say. It was nothing like she had imagined. She felt like she was fighting the goblins all over again. Her heart was racing, her throat was dry, and her skin cold as ice. She had to control herself, she thought. She had faced an assassin; she had faced goblins, she could face this soldier pretending to be a monk.

Rather than talk, she reached into one of her new belt pouches and drew forth the Amulet of Kings. The Redguard's hand fell away from her sword and her grey-green eyes widened, as did those of the two men.

"By Talos!" the Breton gasped.

"Jauffre," Teresa said. The surprise evident on all three of their faces made her feel more in control of the situation. She looked to the older monk. "Are you Jauffre?"

"Yes," the Breton said. His voice had lost all of its former anger, and now seemed filled with joy as he rounded his desk and stepped closer. He reached an eager hand out to her. "I cannot believe it. You have the amulet!"

For a moment Teresa recoiled out of reflex. Then she steadied herself, and set the Amulet of Kings in Jauffre's fingers.

"My name is Teresa, and the Emperor wanted me to give this to you," she said, now feeling calm, as if simply referring to the old man had brought her strength. She remembered his piercing blue eyes, and again felt their warmth fill her. "He said that he has another son. One the assassins did not know about. He said you know where he is. Find him, and give him the amulet."

For a moment Jauffre stared at the giant red gemstone in his hand with wonder. Then his features settled back into a mask of determination. He looked to the Redguard first and laid his free hand on the woman's shoulder.

"Go Julian," he said, voice now filled with enthusiasm. "Ride hard to Kvatch!"

"I will bring Martin back, sir." The Redguard saluted Jauffre, closed fist thumping against her leather-clad breast. Teresa almost felt like she would blush when she turned to her and did the same. Then she left the room, her pronounced limp barely slowing her determined stride.

"I do not know how you managed to get this," Jauffre said in amazement, looking from the Amulet of Kings to Teresa. "But you did the right thing coming here. You may have just saved the Empire, all of Tamriel, from destruction. When the Emperor and the Princes died, I sent all the Blades I had here at Weynon for his last son. We are waiting for them to return with him. He was illegitimate, so his birth was kept a secret to avoid a scandal, and to protect him from the Empress. Now he is our last hope."

"But where are my manners?" Jauffre continued, now the kind host as he lead her to a comfortable chair next to his desk. "Come and sit. You must be tired from your journey. Are you hungry? I will send for some food."

Teresa allowed herself be led to the chair and sat down. Her heart slowed with relief. It was finally over! she thought. The moment she had put the amulet in Jauffre's hand, it felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted from her.

She recounted her story at the Breton's prodding, and he plied her with sweet cakes and wine. She discovered that Jauffre had known the man who had died in the alley, saying that he was an agent of the Blades who was watching Daedric cults. When she told him that she had been arrested for his murder, the monk swore that he would have the charges against her dropped.

"Now," he said after she had finished, "how can I reward you for what you have done? I cannot give you a title, only the Emperor can do that. My order is not wealthy, but I am sure we can spare some gold though."

"No," Teresa said, shaking her head. "I cannot take anything."

"You have done a service to the Empire which cannot be dismissed," Jauffre said staunchly. "I must do something for you in return."

"You do not understand," Teresa said, tears welling up in her eyes. "He died right in front of me, and I couldn't stop it. He believed in me, and I just watched him die..."

"Do not carry that guilt with you," Jauffre said quietly, rising to lay a hand on her shoulder. Not the soft hand of a monk, but the hard grasp of a soldier. "Could have, would have, should have... Play that game with yourself and it will drive you mad. Believe me, I know better than most."

Teresa gently took his hand and moved it off her shoulder. While part of her desperately wanted to be comforted, she could not let a soldier see her this way. Her entire lifetime had taught her to never show them weakness, else they would exploit it. She did not think Jauffre would do that, but old habits died hard.

She rose, knowing that she had to get out of there. Jauffre did not try to stop her as she walked to the door.

"The new Emperor will know what you have done, and I will never forget," she heard Jauffre say as she opened the door. "If you ever need anything, come and find me, or him. Anything..."

Teresa nodded. Part of her was screaming to take the money and live rich and fat for the rest of her life. But another part of her saw the Emperor's face in her mind and remembered his words. He had given her something no amount of gold could compare to. What she did, she did for him, and nothing else.

Posted by: D.Foxy Apr 7 2010, 01:01 AM

Yay for Teresa
Yay for Jools
None can beat her
That is true
Now let's read on
our story bright
while events creep on
see Teresa FIGHT!!!

Posted by: haute ecole rider Apr 7 2010, 01:43 AM

Posted by: Destri Melarg Apr 8 2010, 08:59 AM

Wow! So much to praise about this chapter! From the opening description of Weynon Priory that transforms it from the slightly antiseptic game location to a bustling, believable place of prayer. On to Teresa’s wait in the anteroom, where I fidgeted alongside her waiting for the wheels of bureaucracy to turn. Then the surprising appearance of Julian and your even-handed description of her. Finally, Jauffre’s change of demeanor when Teresa gives him the amulet brought a smile to my face.

Saying that Martin was hidden to avoid scandal and to protect him from the Empress was an especially nice touch.

Quoted for truth!

Posted by: SubRosa Apr 8 2010, 04:55 PM

D.Foxy: Well, if you meant fight a fish, that is coming up...


haute ecole rider: I was wondering how many people would spot that phrase. It was actually in the original, from long before I had ever heard of my most favorite Redguard from Anvil. But when retooling this chapter could not restrain a faint smile. Talk about serendipity.


Destri Melarg: Thank you Dest. I tried to portray Weynon as not only a chapel and chapter house, but also an entire infrastructure of peasants who kept the place going, growing all the food, tending the livestock, working in the smithy, etc... I also wanted to present it not only as a holy site, but also show that it was well-fortified due to its being the regular headquarters of the Blades.

"Could'a, would'a, should'a" is a quote I know best from Farscape. In fact, I think there was even an episode by that name. Since then it has always stuck with me.

I have not seen much at all about Uriel VII's wife. I am not sure if she is even alive at the time of the crisis. What I did see was not at all flattering. They way they portray her, she was a cold, viscous creature who would drive the most virtuous man to infidelity. Given that, I am sure that she would have any bastards she found out about assassinated. In fact, I have often toyed with the idea that Nerussa was one of Uriel's mistresses, and the Empress is the one who ran her out of the courtesan business.


* * *
Chapter 5a - Gone Fishing

24th - 31st Second Seed, 3E433

Teresa's journey back to the city was uneventful. Once again she stayed off the road and walked east through the forest, traveling mostly at night. She found the going was easier this time, as it was literally all downhill. Once more she gathered plants with alchemical properties as she went. A bear followed her for a short distance, but a use of her Command Creature ability convinced it that she was a friend, allowing her to easily slip away from it.

A week later she once more found herself on the western shore of Lake Rumare. She could not pass up the opportunity to strip off her gear and dive into the water. She had always liked to swim, but ever since her escape from prison it had become her special treat. It felt almost as if the water could wash the muck of her past away, and allow her to emerge from its depths a completely new person. Afterward she dried herself in the morning sun and laid down to sleep.

* * *

She was standing in a large cavern whose rough stone walls were carved out by the forces of nature. Shadows clung to the walls of the cave, the darkest of which were smaller tunnels leading further into the bowels of Nirn. Before her the cavern was open to the sky. Sunlight beamed through the gaping hole, illuminating the center of the chamber in golden light. Beneath this Teresa saw a large pool of water, whose crystal clear waves held a small forest of marine plants.

She had been here before, the wood elf knew. It was the same dream again. As before, she stepped into the light of the sun, feeling its warmth fill her. Then she sat, sliding her bare legs into the clear water. It too was warm against her skin, and she watched how the light bent the image of her legs as she gently kicked them back and forth under the waves.

Now it was time for her to look up. Doing so, she saw the dark figure across the pool from her. Standing at the edge of the shadows, she wore not a cloak, but rather was covered in black feathers from head to toe.

Still, Teresa's breath caught in her throat, and she quickly pulled her legs from the water. Leaping to her feet, the wood elf stared at the other woman. Yet the dark figure did not move. Teresa was still not sure if she even breathed.

The wood elf took a step forward. Who was this woman? she wondered. How was she in her dreams? The figure turned as Teresa approached and began to raise her head. The wood elf reached out her hand, and her fingers touched the soft down of the stranger's hood, pulling it up and away.

Within, she saw her own face staring back at her.

* * *

Teresa woke with a start. How many times had she had that same dream? she wondered. Half a dozen times? More? Every time she seemed to get further, to learn more, yet always it slipped away from her memory. This time she willed herself to remember, and wished she had something to write down what had happened.

It was her own face in the cloak of feathers, she thought. It was herself, standing on the edge of the shadows, looking back her. What did that mean? Was she going mad? Or was there some deeper meaning behind it all?

Out of the corner of her eye, she spied a raven flying past. Lifting her head, she saw it winging south, along the shore of Lake Rumare. She was not sure why, but somehow the bird reminded her of the woman in her dream. Of me, she mentally corrected herself, for she was the woman in her dream.

Yet the other figure she saw had seemed like someone else, the wood elf mused as she followed the raven's path. It had definitely felt like there was another presence in the grotto with her. Not frightening, she realized, only different. Somehow she had the feeling that it had something to do with the ravens and crows she had been seeing lately, as if they were somehow guiding her.

Watching the bird as it winged its way ahead of her, Teresa found herself wondering what it must be like to soar through air as it did, free of all constraints. She closed her eyes, and for a moment she could almost feel the wind on her face, and hear the rustling of feathered wings beneath her.

With a faint smile she opened her eyes and followed the raven. The wood elf eventually came upon a small village of daub and wattle homes near the great western bridge to the City Isle. The sign on the road leading into it said it was named Weye. The sun had set some time earlier, so rather than pushing on to the Imperial City she decided to stop for the night.

In the center of the hamlet stood a building larger than the others. The lower half of its walls was of small stones, and the top of daub and wattle like the other buildings in the village. A roof of thatch covered its two stories, and the large sign in front proclaimed it to be the Wawnet Inn.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v90/subrosa_florens/oblivion/Oblivion344.jpg

The common room was small, but the patrons were few. Teresa had no troubles finding herself an empty table and sat back over a glass of wine and a handful of fresh bread and Argonian olive oil. She had never drunk wine before Weynon, but ever since then she had been thinking about how lovely it had tasted. The Wawnet Inn's fare was not as exquisite as that of Jauffre's table, but it still tasted delicious after days of nothing but water.

The innkeeper was an Altmer woman named Nerussa, dressed in soft blue velvet. Her hair was a halo of golden sunlight, and her eyes a darker shade of amber. She had all the curves that Teresa lacked, and used them to deadly effect with every step she took. Teresa could barely take her eyes off the high elf, and every time she walked by the wood elf reveled in the gentle scent of lavender and pomegranates that followed in the statuesque woman's wake.

Teresa wondered what such a woman was doing in a simple hamlet such as Weye? Surely, Nerussa was from noble blood? the wood elf imagined, or at least a wealthy common family? What would bring such a person here, serving drinks to farmers and fishermen?

Just another mystery that she would probably never understand, the wood elf reasoned, like the dead thief and goblins in the sewer.

Teresa soon lost track of how much wine she had drunk. In any case, it was enough for her to work up the courage to ask the innkeeper about her wines. That prompted Nerussa to begin talking about how she liked to collect them.

Teresa liked how she kept her hair bound up behind her head with polished little sticks that dangled tiny jewels from their upper ends. It looked very elegant, and showed off the delicate curve of the nape of the Altmer's neck. Teresa wondered how Nerussa did it, and offhandedly fiddled with the unruly locks of her own crimson mane.

"So if you ever come across Shadowbanish Wine, you will be sure to remember me, right?"

Teresa blinked. She had been paying more attention to how Nerussa looked than to what she was saying.

"Yes, Shadowbanish Wine, in the old castles," Teresa replied, trying to remember what the high elf had been talking about. "If I ever find any, I will be glad to bring it to you."

A middle-aged Breton came in a moment later. He wore plain clothing of worn flax, and walked with a noticeable limp. Sitting down at a table next to Teresa, he gave her the same mildly interested glance that the other patrons had when she had entered herself. She got the feeling that they did not get too many Bosmer foresters in Weye.

"Bring me some of that pale ale Nerussa," Teresa heard him say to the innkeeper in that light, almost singing voice that all Breton's seemed to possess. "That'll ease the pain."

"Is that leg still bothering you Aelwin?" Nerussa asked a moment later as she brought him a tall glass of foaming liquid, which did not look at all pale to Teresa.

"Ahh, it still acts up," the Breton man fussed, rubbing his hip. "Never healed right in the first place the priest says, now they can't fix it 'cause it's too late."

"So what are you going to do about those fish?" the high elf asked as she returned to the bar.

"I dunno," Aelwin replied, staring morosely into his glass before downing a mouthful. "I was so close too, only a dozen more to go and I would've been set."

At that point the two of them looked over at Teresa, noticing that she was staring. That is when Teresa noticed that she was staring herself. Feeling like she had just walked naked through the Market District, she instantly lowered her gaze to her wine while her ghostly white cheeks blossomed a shade of crimson to match her hair.

She emptied her glass in one quick gulp. Feeling a desperate need to escape the common room, she rose and walked not a little unsteadily to the bar. Had she drank that much? she thought. This was only the second time she had wine. She wondered how much really was too much?

"You mentioned you had rooms?" she asked Nerussa, feeling proud of herself for not slurring her words. See, she told herself, she could hold her liquor.

"Yes, there are several rooms upstairs if you would like one," the Altmer replied with a smile that was like the sun breaking from the clouds on a rainy day. Teresa wasn't sure if she was smiling at her embarrassment, or if perhaps she saw something that she liked?

Probably the embarrassment, Teresa decided, taking Nerussa up on the room and passing several coins to her. Walking up the stairs was no challenge to a seasoned forester such as herself; nor was entering the room. Getting out of her cuirass was however, with all of its straps and buckles and laces. In the end she wound up spending the night in it and nothing else. In spite of how Teresa would have liked Nerussa to have come to visit, she was thankful that the Altmer did not.

Posted by: D.Foxy Apr 9 2010, 12:22 PM

D.Foxy: Well, if you meant fight a fish, that is coming up...


Hmmm...

You mean you have to FiGHT your fish? I always thought you did the other thing with it..


fish

Posted by: Destri Melarg Apr 10 2010, 12:35 AM

Teresa dressed in a cloak of feathers, standing on the edge of the shadows, and being led around Tamriel by raven’s flight? That’s pretty symbolic for someone who continues to believe with an almost religious fervor how much of a hero she isn’t. Even her dreams betray her.

Your description of Nerussa was great. I am eager to see how Teresa handles Aelwin’s quest. Those slaughterfish can be murder.

Posted by: SubRosa Apr 10 2010, 07:05 PM

D.Foxy: Look and see, as Teresa joins the cast of BassMasters...

Destri Melarg: You almost made me fall out of my chair laughing!

I am glad you noticed that I tweaked the first meeting with Nerussa a bit, in order to help better set up future events. When I originally wrote Nerussa, I did not have her previous profession in mind. Now I made an effort to show its effects.


* * *
Chapter 5b - Gone Fishing

Teresa woke early next morning with a slight ache in her head. Her alchemical gatherings had borne fruit however, and she felt very pleased with herself when she produced an echinacea root. Having no mortar and pestle with her to grind it down, she simply cut off a small piece and ate it. That would take care of her head pains, she thought proudly as she dressed and headed down to the common room.

Nerussa was already awake and there to greet her, taking Teresa somewhat aback. She had hoped to slip out of the inn without any further embarrassment. Now she would have to talk with the high elf and try not to act like an idiot, something she seemed to be having a problem with since meeting the innkeeper.

"You know, someone really should help Aelwin," Nerussa said, apparently to no one in particular, as she produced a small bread roll for Teresa's breakfast. Since there was no one else in the room but the two of them, Teresa had the distinct impression that she was that no one in particular.

"With his leg?" Teresa asked. "I am not a healer. I would not know what to do."

"No, with his fish," Nerussa explained.

"With his fish?" Teresa replied, feeling completely lost. "What about his fish?"

"He only needs to kill a dozen more Rumare Slaughterfish to fulfill a contract he has with an alchemist in Skingrad," Nerussa explained. "He is doing some kind of experiments with their scales. Aelwin was hoping to use the money to retire and live in the city. But now he can't even do his regular fishing with his leg the way it is, let alone catch the slaughterfish.

Teresa could see where this was going. Her instincts told her to bolt. There was no way she was going to go out and tangle with slaughterfish. A lifetime on the Waterfront had taught her that. There was a reason they were called slaughterfish after all.

So a half hour later she was standing on the shore of the lake, wondering why on Nirn she had agreed to catch the fish for Aelwin.

It was Nerussa's eyes, Teresa thought, those damned soft amber eyes that sparkled just so when the morning light shone through the window. Teresa sighed. She had always heard of women using their wiles on men, but never on other women. It was not at all fair! she thought indignantly.

Well, there was nothing for it now but to get it over with, she decided. Stripping off her leather armor and leaving it in a pile on the beach alongside her bow and her arrow bag, she waded into the lake wearing nothing but her tunic. Normally she liked the water. But normally she did not go looking for slaughterfish either...

In one hand she held a small cage filled with cut up fish. As soon as it hit the water it began to ooze blood and fish guts all around her. Aelwin explained that he used this to attract the slaughterfish. He had offered to give her the spear he used to kill them, but she had declined. She did not know the first thing about spears. It was just a big heavy stick to her. Instead she clutched her dagger in her free hand, and willed her fingers not to tremble as she stared out at the lake.

So, feeling completely disgusted, she waded out into the reddening water and went hunting for slaughterfish. It did not take long before Aelwin's bait proved its worth, and Teresa found one of the serpentine creatures winding its way toward her through the murky water.

She had seen them often enough in her frequent trips into the lake. However, on those occasions she had never tried to actually get their attention by ringing their dinner bell. Now as the slaughterfish closed in, she wondered how it could even shut its mouth with so many big sharp teeth.

That is when Teresa remembered why she liked bows. You could stand far away from your enemy. As the slaughterfish closed in, she wished she had taken Aelwin up on his offer of the spear after all…

The slaughterfish's first strike was at the cage of fish chunks, propelling itself forward with a flick of its rope-like tail and sinking its teeth into the iron bars. The metal bent slightly with the impact, and Teresa was barely able to hold onto the cage with her left hand as the slaughterfish jerked to and fro.

Gritting her teeth, Teresa thrust her dagger into the body of the slaughterfish with all of the strength she could muster. It let go of the cage and turned to look at her with its glassy black eyes. Teresa did not like that look at all, nor that of its long fangs as they came at her. That was all the incentive she needed to drop the cage and hastily kick her legs for shore. Years of swimming had taught her to move swiftly through the water, and she called up every last measure of that speed as the slaughterfish pursued her into the shallows, nipping at her very heels.

Teresa said a silent prayer of thanks to the Nine when she reached the shore alive and with all of her toes. Taking a moment to catch her breath, she felt herself want to shrivel up and hide under the sand. She had been beaten by a fish! she thought in disgust, a fish! She had even lost the bait cage in the bargain.

Looking back out into the lake, she saw that her antagonist had followed her right up to the edge of the water, still snapping its teeth and trying to bite her. Teresa skipped back out of reflex, and noticed her bow out of the corner of her eye. A faint smile came to her lips as she ran to grab it and her arrow bag.

The slaughterfish was still where she had left it when she came back. It seemed to have trouble swimming in the shallows, and could not get back out into the deeper water. That gave Teresa plenty of time to nock an arrow, take careful aim, and shoot it through the head.

This gave Teresa a plan. She made the short trip to Aelwin's home to obtain a length of rope. While he could not conceal his surprise at seeing the soaking wood elf on his doorstep, he quickly produced the cord she desired.

It was only when she was on her way back to the beach that Teresa wondered if it was only surprise he had been looking at her with. Looking down at herself, she saw that her linen tunic clung tightly to her wet body, leaving nothing to the imagination. She may not have possessed the soft curves of Nerussa, but what she did have was clearly on display.

That made her turn red again. Especially when she started to notice how the rest of the people in the village were watching her as she walked by. By the time she had returned to the beach she was thankful to be back with the slaughterfish.

Teresa took out her arrows and stuck them point down into the sand next to her bow. That would make them easier to grab than if they were in the bag, she knew. Then tying one end of the cord around her ankle, she swam back out into the lake to find the fish cage. Thankfully she had not gone too far out when she had encountered the first slaughterfish, so it was not difficult for her to recover. Tying the other end of the cord to the cage, she then began swimming along the shore looking for more fish.

Once again, it did not take long until one showed up to feast upon the fish parts in the cage. Teresa did not try to use her dagger against it, but rather swam for shore immediately, and repeated her previous tactic of shooting the pursuing slaughterfish when it became trapped in the shallows.

She spent the rest of the day fishing in this manner, moving along the coast with her bow and arrows when she had exhausted an area of fish. Aelwin came out at midday to treat her to a lunch of honeyed bread and goat's milk, and remained to watch in amazement as she continued to draw the fish into the shallows and shoot them from shore. By the time the sun was setting Teresa had caught the last of the slaughterfish that he needed.

"I cannot believe it!" Aelwin said in amazement. "You got them all, and without a scratch on yourself. You are unbelievable little lady, and so kind to help an old man like me. I don't know how I can ever thank you."

"Well..." Teresa mumbled, feeling a little embarrassed. After all, she thought, it was really Nerussa who had talked her into it...

"I do not have much, but I suppose I could give you this, seeing as I am not going to need it anymore." Aelwin held up his right hand to show Teresa the ring he wore. It was turquoise, and decorated with dolphins leaping over waves. She thought it was quite lovely.

"It's called the Jewel of the Rumare. My father gave it to me," Aelwin explained as he took it off his finger. "It has been my secret weapon every since I started as a fisherman. It allows you to breathe underwater you see, and prevents anything you carry from being damaged by the water."

Teresa was dumfounded when he set the ring in her palm, and could not suppress a faint smile as she set it on her finger. It was far too big, but instantly shrank to fit perfectly around her skin a moment later.

"It's beautiful," she breathed. Then she wrapped her arms around the old Breton and gave him a hug. She felt very warm and content. She told herself it was because of the ring. She was only beginning to imagine the things she might do with it. Like swim with her leather armor and bow. But there was a nagging feeling deep inside of her that was telling her that her joy came from somewhere else entirely, perhaps even from the look of gratitude she saw in an old man's eyes...

Posted by: Acadian Apr 11 2010, 04:10 PM

I have been reading since you started, and your new version of Teresa's story is wonderful. I love the improvements and am enjoying this even more than the original. This last one was very fun to read - and clever too. Well done SubRosa!

Posted by: minque Apr 11 2010, 11:00 PM

Ohhhh wonderful! Yes tonight is my reading-night, what joy to read about Teresa...she's gorgeous!

The description of the dream was really great....makes me wonder, dreams tend to come true somehow, don't they?

Posted by: Remko Apr 12 2010, 11:46 AM

You broughgt in Hautee's Julian? Nice! Now I gotta read that again as well to see if Hautee has changed her story accordingly... Conspiring minxes... all of you

Posted by: SubRosa Apr 13 2010, 12:39 AM

Acadian: Hey you old warhorse. Good to see you again. I am glad you are enjoying the new and improved Teresa.


minque: Thank you minque. The dream sequences are based on my own personal experiences (although not while dreaming in my case). More will be shown about their significance in later chapters, especially chapter 8.


Remko: Actually it was Jauffre who brought Julian in, from where she has been stationed in the provinces... Haute has not changed Old Habits any though. It would be difficult, as Julian's being there when the Emperor dies is even more critical to her story than it is to mine (that is the problem with all crossovers, at some point, usually that one, they do not mesh together perfectly). So this is just an alternate reality Julian. She fills a spot - The Hero of Kvatch/Bruma - that I intentionally left vague.

* * *

Chapter 6a - You Can't Go Home Again

1st Midyear, 3E433

After spending the evening enjoying Aelwin's tangy grilled slaughterfish, Teresa spent the night in his home, spreading her bedroll across the floor in front of his hearth. She knew it was not the smartest idea. Methredhel's roommate Adanrel had made that mistake and paid for it. It was not something that they talked about, but everyone knew what had happened to her. Still, somehow Teresa did think that Aelwin was something to worry about, and the night passed without incident.

The next morning Teresa bathed in the lake again, and washed herself with the extract of a vanilla plant she had gathered, giving her skin a soft, welcoming scent. Thinking of how lovely Nerussa's hair was, she spent nearly an hour fussing with her own back at Aelwin's. She could not make it as elegant as the tresses of the innkeeper, but after finally combing out all of the snags, parting it on the side, and brushing it across her forehead, it at least looked better than before.

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When she finally felt presentable she said her goodbyes to Aelwin, who was preparing for his journey to Skingrad to deliver the slaughterfish scales. Teresa debated saying goodbye to Nerussa. Part of her very much wanted to see the high elf again. Just thinking of the statuesque woman made her breath catch in her throat. But another part of the wood elf sensed that Nerussa was trouble, at least for her. After all, she was the entire reason Teresa had spent the previous day swimming with slaughterfish...

This time Teresa listened to the prudent half of her nature. Turning away from the Wawnet Inn, she set her feet to the Western Bridge and the Imperial City beyond. She was not used to being awake so early in the morning, and could not stifle several yawns as she made her way across the massive stone edifice. The span stretched on for miles, and by the time she reached the other side she was well awake.

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Teresa's heart beat faster when she set her eyes upon the familiar sight of legionaries standing guard at the city gate. Were they on the lookout for her? she wondered, could Jauffre have had time to clear her name already? Did the senior Blade even intend to do so, or was that just a lie he told her before sending her right back to her prison cell?

Teresa did not really think he would do the latter. He seemed to be a man of his word. But that did not mean the legion was not looking for her in any case. So just as at Chorrol, she forced herself to act calm and relaxed as she walked toward the city gate. I am just an ordinary Bosmer woods-runner, she thought, nothing to look at here.

"Good morning citizen," one of the legionaries said as she walked up to the gateway. Teresa felt the urge to bolt rise within her. With an effort of will she retained her casual pace, and turned to look at the Imperial.

"Good morning," she said, doing her best to pretend that she was not an escaped prisoner. She even forced a faint smile to her lips and paused to talk to the man. "How are things in the city? I have been away for a very long time."

"Everyone's talking about the Emperor's murder," the legionary said, and Teresa detected a quaver in his voice. "Emperors have been assassinated before, but never anything like this. No one even knows who was responsible. Now with no heir..., we are in for dark times friend."

Teresa was stunned. In all of her life the men of the Imperial Legion had seemed like towers of stone; incapable of fear or doubt, and unmoved by pity, compassion or any other form of kind emotion. Yet this man - who she suddenly noticed might be even as young as herself - sounded like any ordinary person.

"Do not worry," Teresa found herself saying in a conciliatory tone, thinking of Jauffre and the secret heir. "Things will work out, you'll see."

They had better, Teresa thought as she passed through the gate. Until this moment she had not thought of anything beyond delivering the amulet to Jauffre. What the guard said was right though. Who were those assassins who knew so much about the Emperor, down to his secret escape route? Who was behind them? Did this mean a civil war throughout the Empire?

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Normally such thoughts would never have entered her mind. Until she woke up in prison and met the Emperor, she had never thought further than how she was going to eat that day, or how to stay out of the way of the Imperial Legion and the ruffians that did not obey the Thieves Guild's rules about killing.

What would a civil war do to the city, and the people in it? she wondered. Starvation? Disease? An army breaking down the walls and storming in to murder everyone? Now she understood why that legionary was so shaken.

Still, she reminded herself that Jauffre and Julian were out there looking for the heir. They would set things right. Then there was Baurus. Teresa did not need to be told that the Redguard would stop at nothing to find those responsible and take revenge. As strange as it felt, Teresa was glad to know that there were people like that in the Empire, who would do the right thing.

She broke from her reverie in time to notice that her feet had taken her completely through the Talos Plaza district and into the Elven Gardens. Unlike the Talos Plaza, which was purely for the elite, the Elven Gardens was a neighborhood of artisans, merchants, nobles on hard times, and other folk who never had to really worry about where their next coin was coming from. It was not rich, Teresa thought, but it was nowhere near poor either.

After her time in the forest she felt a new appreciation for the quiet bedroom district with its numerous trees, flowerbeds, and bushes. Yet still, the hard stone walls of the city seemed to close in from all around. She had never really thought about it before, but everywhere she looked in the city there was a wall. Everything was shoved tightly between those walls, pressed together like the contents of a too-small backpack.

In Chorrol every shop or home had its own individual building, Teresa remembered. Yet here in the Imperial City each entire block was taken up by a single stone structure, or insula. The massive buildings brooded over the street below like dull grey mountains. Teresa knew that they were subdivided into sections for businesses and domiciles, but from the outside they just looked like cliffs that stretched for hundreds of feet, dotted with the occasional window or door.

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Teresa shook herself. What was she thinking? This was home after all. Nothing in Tamriel compared to the Imperial City. Nothing was bigger. Nothing was grander. Looking up at the exquisite shape of White Gold Tower, she was reminded of the graceful lines of the strange ruins she saw outside of the prison sewer. You could see that tower everywhere in the city. Even when she had journeyed from the city for days, she had still seen it rising in the distance.

Looking back down to the street, her eyes fell upon a dirty man in ragged sack cloth who was begging for coins. Now this was the city she knew best, she thought with a sinking feeling in her heart. It was place of people with no hope and no future. As she looked on, two legionaries marched over to the beggar and with barely a word grabbed him by both arms and dragged him away.

He should have known better, Teresa thought. The legion did not tolerate begging in neighborhoods like the Elven Gardens or Talos Plaza. They would let you pass through as long as you did not stay. But stopping and asking for money was right out. If the beggar was lucky they would toss him into the tunnel to the Waterfront, she thought. If not, he would probably spend the night in the prison.

Now that was the Imperial Legion that Teresa remembered. Yes, she was home indeed.

Teresa noticed people looking at her as she made her way down the main thoroughfare to the Market District. Only then did she realize that she walking directly down the middle of the main boulevard. She never did that. It was the surest way to be spotted by the legion and shaken down. No, she and all the other street urchins kept to the alleys and side streets in neighborhoods like this.

Out of reflex she looked for the nearest side street and headed for it. Then she stopped herself. She was not going to skulk in the shadows! she told herself. Not after what she had been through. Pulling herself up straight and tall, she went back to walking right down the middle of the street.

That is when she noticed not only that people were looking at her, but how they were looking at her. It was not with the usual scorn, disgust, or pity that the well-off reserved for gutter rats. They were looking at her altogether differently. As if she was a person, and apparently an interesting one. A few of the men even gave her the same kind of hungry glances that she had only seen cast at women such as Nerussa, while some of the women gave her looks of what might even be envy.

She looked down at her willowy, leather-clad frame. It did not really show anything at all, she thought. But the leather did move with her rather well, and the greaves did cling tightly to her legs and hips. That was one of the things she liked about them. The leather fit good and snug, but flexed easily with her movements. Still, she was certain that she did not detect even a trace of feminine wiles, not like she had seen in Nerussa's statuesque figure...

Putting the Altmer out of her mind, where she belonged, Teresa thought about her first stop as she made her way through the gate to the Market District. Not nearly so clean and neat as the Elven Gardens, the markets were a working class neighborhood. The stones of its buildings were worn and rough. Shoots of grass could be seen erupting from cracks in the cobblestones of the streets, while here and there toadstools blossomed in perpetual shadows cast by the high stone insula and higher city walls.

A noisy, chaotic, melting pot of all Cyrodiil, there were more shops here than the rest of the city's districts put together, Teresa thought. The streets were busy with carts loaded with goods from all over the continent. Working men loaded and unloaded crates, while shoppers of all races and social classes dodged between looking for everything from armor to wine. Here no one would spare her a second glance, she knew.

Yet Teresa froze an instant later, when she saw the face of the legionary standing watch on the market side of the gate. It was Volsinius. She knew him only too well, she thought. Her tongue reflexively sought out the gap between her back teeth where he had knocked one out with a backhand slap of his gauntleted hand. She had been eight years old, and Teresa could still remember it just as clearly as when it had happened. He had caught her trying to steal a sweet roll from a street vendor. The blow had been his way of going easy on her. It was that or prison, and he made her thank him for it afterward.

Every instinct in her said to break and run as he turned to look at her. She dug her fingers into her palms, and if it were not for the leather gauntlets that she wore, she might have drawn blood. His eyes locked onto hers and she gritted her teeth. He was about to recognize her, she knew.

"You have my ear citizen," he said in the same neutral tone that soldiers reserved for ordinary, law-abiding people.

Teresa stood there, not believing what she had heard. Was this a game? she wondered. Some sort of joke on his part? But the Volsinius she knew was not one for humor or subterfuge, Teresa thought. He was a blunt instrument.

"Nothing," Teresa stammered, forcing herself to speak in order to break his gaze. "It's nothing. I just thought I knew you."

"No," he said. "If we knew one another, I would remember. I never forget a face, especially one as striking as yours Bosmer."

Teresa blushed in surprise, and quickly moved on without another word. By Nocturnal he was complimenting her! Her head swam. This was madness, pure madness. What had the Emperor done to her? she wondered. What had she done to herself?

Then she set her eyes upon an aging Imperial woman in the street outside of Edgar's Discount Spells. Her face was more lined and careworn than the cobblestones upon which she stood, and her shoulder-length hair had long since gone to grey. She wore a simple dress of coarse and dirty green flax, laced up the front with rawhide. Teresa approached with a quickened pace, and the old woman looked up at her.

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"Spare a coin for an old woman?" she asked Teresa in a quivering voice.

Teresa smiled. Not the faint smile she typically cracked when she was amused or otherwise pleased, but a wide, joyful grin. "Can you spare a hug for a little girl Simplicia?" Teresa beamed, holding her arms out and stepping closer to the beggar.

"Teresa!" Simplicia exclaimed in shock, wrapping her arms around the slender Bosmer in a warm embrace. "Is that really you?"

Teresa buried her head in the old woman's shoulder and clung to her as tightly as she could. Closing her eyes, she felt Simplicia's arms holding her close in return, and for once everything felt right with the world. After what seemed like far too short a time, Simplicia let go and stepped back a pace to look at Teresa. The elderly Imperial could not hide the amazement on her face, nor the pleasure.

"Why look at you!" Simplicia beamed with pride. "Little Teresa! I did not even recognize you. You look so different. You changed your hair, and scented it too! Oh and look how you are dressed. You look like one of those forest folk, not a city villain at all."

"Do I really look so strange?" Teresa asked. It was something she had been wondering for some time now, since even before returning to the city. "I am still the same as ever."

"Oh my girl, you don't look the same at all," Simplicia replied. "Sure, you still have that flour-white skin, but the rest of you, it's so different. Look at all that armor, and a longbow now I see too. You walk so proud and tall, all respectable you are. You look like you are about to go out and slay some monster like Empress Alessia in the old stories..."

"I do?" Teresa said, eyes widening in surprise, "Really?"

"Really," Simplicia said quietly, stepping close again, and taking Teresa's arms in her own. "It's in your eyes. You used to always look down when people talked to you, even me, now you look right back in the eye. You look like you could take on the world Teresa."

"I... I really don't know what to say," Teresa stammered, feeling her head whirling again. "I am just glad to see you again. You're the closest thing to a mom I have ever had."

"Oh my little Teresa..." the old Imperial gently sighed as she hugged the young Bosmer again. "Ever since I found you crying in the alley that night, I knew you were special. You were always my special little one you know."

"So how have you been old lady?" Teresa asked, trying to slip her voice back to the casual banter they used to share before she had been taken to the prison. "How many coins have you gotten so far this morning?"

"Two drakes!" the elderly woman exclaimed with glee. "And it's barely past mid-morn!"

"But what about you little Teresa?" Simplicia's features lost their joy and took on a serious cast. "Something happened to you didn't it, when you disappeared? We have all been wondering where you went to. Even that fetcher Volsinius asked me what you had gotten up to."

"It's a long story, and some of it I cannot tell even you, not yet," Teresa said, losing her easy tone as she thought of the Emperor, Jauffre, and the heir. "How about we go to the Feed Bag and I'll treat you to breakfast while we catch up?"

Posted by: D.Foxy Apr 13 2010, 03:18 AM

quiet bedroom district

HUH?

Wha..

D'you mean quite bed-and-board district, or surburban district, or...I dunno...???


Or was that... a freudian slip? (Dang I had to control myself from making that last letter a 'p' and not a 't' ...!!!)

Posted by: Destri Melarg Apr 13 2010, 09:38 AM

Chapter 5b:
Teresa’s resourceful method of fishing made the whole chapter a joy to read. I love the attention that you pay to the little details, like the fact that the Jewel of the Rumare shrinks to fit her finger.

Chapter 6:

Go Teresa!

Posted by: Olen Apr 13 2010, 02:33 PM

Good as ever, you really have her character nailed, she's likeable and believeable, still clinging to old insecurity but slowly it's falling away. I like how you've departed frm the exact course of the main quest and an interested to see where you take it from here. It makes the story more yours and leaves you freer to surprise as now you've left what's known anything might happen.

Returning her to her origins is a good way to highlight the difference in her too and was most effective.

Only nit I'd possibly point out was that there were a lot of quite short paragraphs, some of which might have benifited from being merged. That's just my opinion of course and really it's just something to think about.

Posted by: SubRosa Apr 15 2010, 09:06 PM

D.Foxy: It is a variation of "bedroom community", I used it because it sounds little less formal than residential district.


Destri Melarg: I guess that is another place I can imagine hearing The Bee Gees, doing Stayin' Alive as Teresa walks down the center of the street.

I did change up the fishing scene a bit from the first time, by removing her Absorb Health spell and having her just use a dagger to start with. That was the only time she ever used that spell, and I never envisioned her as knowing a great deal of magic. So I took the opportunity to take it out of her repertoire completely and leave her with just the Flare and Heal Minor Wounds spells.


Olen: It was a big relief for me to get out of the confines of the MQ. I had a difficult time writing the early chapters, because they were so dependent on game events. I often felt like I was stuck on a rail.

There is a lot more on her returning to her old home, and you are spot on, her homecoming is really bringing home just how much she has changed since meeting the Emperor. It is like my favorite quote from the Wallflowers:

Man I ain't changed,
but I know I ain't the same.

I did go back and merge a some of the paragraphs together. Thanks for that appraising eye!


* * *

Chapter 6b - You Can't Go Home Again

From what Simplicia had to say, no one in the city knew how Teresa had disappeared, or where she went to. She had simply vanished. Most had assumed that she had been hauled off to prison by the Imperial Legion. But after Volsinius had asked about Teresa, Simplicia had gone to the prison herself to see if she was there, only to be told that they had never arrested her. That led to darker speculations, and even Simplicia herself had begun to fear that Teresa had met her end in some dark alley.

Teresa wondered about that. Surely the legionary who had arrested her would have recorded it somehow? she reasoned. Then she thought about Baurus. Could the Redguard have forged the records and sworn the legionaries to silence? He might have, in order to cover her tracks while she spirited the Amulet of Kings away to Weynon.

It was late afternoon by the time Teresa left the elderly woman and made her way through the city to the Waterfront. She wanted to stay, and spend the entire day with Simplicia. To everyone in the city, even the other street urchins, Simplicia - Simplicia the Slow as they called her - was nothing but one more pile of human wreckage. But to Teresa there was no one in the world more important.

Still, she had things to do, Teresa thought. She needed to get back to her squat and dig up her mortar and pestle. Then she could start working on the ingredients she had gathered since leaving Chorrol and turn them into potions.

In the past she always had to buy the alchemical ingredients she made her potions with, she thought. That, and only selling them to the Imperial City's underbelly, seriously limited the profit she made. Usually it was just enough to get her something to eat and pay off the local protection racketeers.

The Thieves Guild tried to stop the ruffians, she knew, but every time they squashed one gang of punks another sprang up in its place. In places like the Waterfront there was always someone desperate and ruthless enough to do anything to get what they wanted. That would never change.

Maybe now she would start selling her potions to that Breton woman in the Gilded Carafe instead, Teresa thought. She had always been nice when Teresa bought her supplies. So was the man at the Main Ingredient. Yes, Teresa thought, that would be just the thing.

Making her way through the city streets, Teresa was once again intensely aware of how the walls of the city loomed in around her. It felt so confined, she thought. All grey and hard, it reminded her of the prison cell. She wished she could be outside and in the forest again, where everything was so green and endless and full of life.

But wasn't this home? she thought, where she belonged?

As she entered the tunnel that led to the Waterfront, she started to wonder about that. Ever since she had come back, everything seemed so strange. The city had changed somehow. Become smaller, colder, harder. It was not the place she remembered, nor were its people.

By the time she exited the tunnel and was back out into the open air of the Waterfront, Teresa felt distinctly uncomfortable. She saw that the Marie Elena was back in port again as she walked along the docks. Returned from her latest expedition of piracy no doubt, Teresa thought. Everyone knew that her crew did not come by their 'trade goods' honestly, including the legion. If the latter could prove it the entire gang of cutthroats would be floating face down in the harbor. One thing the Empire did not go soft on was piracy.

She stopped then, drew the bow from her back and a string from one of her belt pouches. Looping one end of the flax cord around the bottom nock of the bow, she then placed that end of the bow stave against the instep of her right foot. Taking the top nock of the stave with her left hand, she pulled it toward her while using her right hand to pull the center of the bow in the opposite direction. Leaning into it, she used all of her body to flex the yew far enough for her to fit the other end of the string around the horn of the top nock.

Finished, she returned the now ready bow to her back and walked on as casually as before. In the Elven Gardens walking with a strung bow would get the attention of the legion immediately. But here on the Waterfront no one paid any mind.

Some of the pirates were lounging around the dock next to their ship as Teresa walked by, one of them singing a dirty song about a lady from Wayrest. He stopped as she came near, and gave her a hard, appraising look. So did the other pirates. She noticed hands drifting toward sword hilts, and let her own drift to the arrow bag at her hip. No one said a word. Teresa gave back their stares, and did not flinch or hesitate as she walked by and further down the dock.

She breathed a sigh of relief once she was clear of them. Had she just stared down the worst band of killers on the docks? she thought, was she mad? In the past she would have scampered off into the shadows as soon as they looked at her, not that they had ever paid her any heed before in the first place. She had never been worth their while. Not until today at least.

Things really have changed, Teresa thought. I have changed.

Turning down an alley off the docks, she made her way past a string of run down warehouses, taverns, and brothels. Then she was off the cobblestone streets and into the shantytown she knew all too well. Nothing more than a random sprawl of rickety wooden shacks, the air stank of urine, feces, and sweat that soaked into the dirt underfoot. Still, it was better than the sewer, Teresa thought as she plunged into the maze of rambling buildings.

Finding the hovel she called home, she pushed aside the back door, which was nothing more than a few wooden boards nailed together and propped up against an opening in the wall. The light of a small fire illuminated the single messy room within, revealing two men. One was a skinny Breton, and the other a stocky but hard-looking Nord. The Nord immediately laid his hand on the axe lying on the floor next to him, while the Breton slid down the wall away from where Teresa stood.

Damn! Teresa cursed silently at herself. She was so deep in her thoughts that she had not been paying attention. She had always peeked through the cracks in the walls to see if the shack was empty before she went in, she thought. You never knew who might decide to take the place over.

Without thinking, Teresa pulled the bow from her back. She did not reach for an arrow yet, but her other hand did drift in that direction. She stared directly into the eyes of the Nord, trying to gauge him. She could already see that the Breton was no threat. But the blond northerner looked to be a different story altogether.

"This is our shack," the Nord spat with a cold glare in his eyes. "Git out!"

"I used to live here," Teresa said evenly. "What happened to Geen-Rana?"

"I don' know no Green-Ran," the Nord stared back, hand drifting closer to his axe. "This place was empty when we found it. It's ours now, fair and square."

Teresa wondered how much of that was true, if any of it. Well, she thought, if Geen-Rana was dead, there was nothing she could do to help the Argonian now. Hopefully she had been more cautious than herself, and saw the interlopers first and simply decided to look elsewhere for a roof.

"Okay," she said, still staring at the Nord. "I'll just get my stuff and go."

"You do that," he said, patting the blade of his axe. "And don't get ideas, or I'll send you straight to Oblivion."

Teresa did not say a word, or even nod. Her heart was racing and her palms felt damp within the leather pads of her gauntlets. Still, she moved deeper into the shack, and without taking her eyes off the two men, she used her free hand to pull up a loose floor stone against the back wall. From underneath it she drew forth a small bag, really just a thin blanket folded over and tied off with string.

Teresa did not pause to look within it. She did not want to take her eyes off the Nord. She just hoped what meager belongings she possessed were still within. With what she came for in hand, she backed her way out the door and down the alley outside, until she was sure the two would not come after her. Then she collapsed in a trembling heap and wondered what on Nirn had gotten into her?

Posted by: haute ecole rider Apr 15 2010, 09:19 PM

I enjoyed the homecoming, because it highlights the old saw "you can never go home again."

Her feeling of claustrophobia in the City, after days out in the woods, is very realistic and believable.

This sums up the entire chapter.

And thanks to you for making the slums come alive. They are never really as believable in the game as they should be. You have done well with your description of the waterfront itself (the business district) and making a distinction between the harbor and the slums behind that great wall of warehouses and trading offices. This has proven inspiring the first time I read it, and it still is very inspiring this time through, maybe more so.

Posted by: Remko Apr 16 2010, 11:51 AM

I really liked this last part where she realises she has changed. The part with Simplicia is really sweet

Posted by: Destri Melarg Apr 17 2010, 10:07 AM

An intriguing mystery in the first two paragraphs! I can just see Baurus removing the arrest record and covering Teresa’s tracks. I like the idea that he wasn’t idle after giving her the sewer key. There is nothing that I like better than the hint of forces working behind the scenes.

The description of the local protection racket adds to the sense of despair that must rule the Waterfront, just as it remains a palpable reality in any slum in our world. To me that is just one of the many opportunities that the game developers missed (of course, if they were to make a game incorporating everything that could lend their world verisimilitude our heads would probably explode, severely hampering our ability to play it). I also like the idea that the Thieves Guild does what it can to protect the people of the Waterfront from more that just the Imperial Watch.

What really shined for me in this chapter was the moment when, on first reading it, I thought that you might have made a glaring error of omission. You went into such detail describing the act of stringing a bow that I was totally prepared for Teresa to shoot something. But then she didn’t. I was ready to call foul, I was eye-balling my keyboard and forming in my mind the things that I would say to admonish you for setting me up like that. Then I reached the next paragraph and the stare-down with the pirates. By the time I finished it I was leaning back in my chair with a giant smile on my face. You completely paid off the stringing of the bow, but not in the way that one would expect . . .

Bravo!

Posted by: minque Apr 17 2010, 01:07 PM

Thank all mighty divines it's saturday and I have had a chance to catch up!

Just spent time with Teresa and I must say it's great, so great that I actually don't know what to say. All those details like doing her hair, noticing her tunic clung to her body, revealing....much! and so on...

Rosie you are a wonderful writer and I love your story so much!

Posted by: SubRosa Apr 17 2010, 11:05 PM

haute ecole rider: Thank you h.e.r., those were the sorts of things I was going for. The realization of change, the sense that the IC was no longer home, and the little details that I hoped would bring the reality of living in the gutter to life.

I just finished writing Chapter 7 (which is all new material btw.) with Joseph Campbell's Hero's Quest very clearly in mind (along with Heart of Darkness, but I blame Olen for that... ). Then I looked back and realized that Chapters 1-6 mirrored the Hero's Journey to a tee, all without any conscious effort on my part to do so. It has the call to adventure, which was quite unwilling on Teresa's part (but not unusual in the cycle), the journey to strange, magical places (the prison, sewer, and wilderness), meeting both the goddess figure (in this case her spirit guide), and the god figure (the emperor), obstacles that were overcome, and a final return to where she came from, only now forever changed by the process with the gift of personal insight that she never possessed before.


Remko: Thank you Remko. This chapter is all about that realization of change, as well as an introduction to the people who have been a regular part of Teresa's life.


Destri Melarg: Thank you Dest. I was thinking exactly the same thing about Baurus. I can see him like James Earl Jones in Hunt For Red October (the movie, never read the book), telling the Naval gunnery officer that the torpedo never self-destructed, and that in fact he was never even there...

I am glad you liked the depth I tried to put into the Waterfront as well. In the TF the Imperial Legion does not go past the stone buildings along the docks. Once you get into the shantytown, it is a no-man's land. Basically, the Empire has divested itself of the people there, and tries to pretend they do not even exist. With such an environment of hopelessness I can see a particularly ugly strain of criminals constantly on the rise, with nothing to look forward to and nothing to lose. Kill one, and there is always another to take their place.

The Thieves Guild is portrayed in the game as being Robin Hoods who steal from the rich and protect the poor. I kind of see them as being a bit more pragmatic that that. I imagine them being like Pablo Escobar in that one regard. While he was one of the most viscous and ruthless druglords to ever live, he also gave tons of money to the poor people in the slums of Medellín. He was the one taking care of them, and looking out for them. So when Escobar was on the run he hid out among them, and no one turned him in. Even with a bounty on his head. I see the TG as having that same mindset. By doing their best to protect Waterfronters from the worst elements, they are making them a protective screen they can hide behind as well as an intelligence network.

I think it would be an excellent setting to really go deeply into. I wanted to put more into it, but it would have bogged down the story. Maybe I will be able to work a flashback chapter in of Teresa, Methredhel, and Adanrel from a few years earlier? That might not only put more into those relationships, but also better show the dark underbelly of the Waterfront at the same time.


minque: Thank you minque. I do make an effort to get those little things in. In fact, I have been trying to find a way I can get in Teresa having her period during a story, but I am not sure how I can do it without it being TMI.




* * *

Chapter 6c - You Can't Go Home Again

After she had calmed her nerves, Teresa got back on her feet and made her way through the winding alleys that made up the shantytown until she finally came to a familiar shack. She hoped Methredhel was still living there, and this time she knocked on the door rather than simply barging in.

She heard low voices through the dilapidated walls, then footsteps, and finally saw a familiar pair of green eyes staring at her through a crack in the boards.

"What do you want?" a cautious voice ventured through the door.

"Can't an old friend just stop by to say hello?" Teresa said with a faint smile. "It's me, Teresa."

"Teresa?" she heard the voice say with surprise. The sound of a bolt being pulled back came to her ears, and a moment later the door opened and Teresa was greeted by the sight of a brown-haired Bosmer woman, also dressed in leather and holding a bow in one hand. It was Methredhel, Teresa knew, and she felt a tremendous sigh of relief flow through her as the other wood elf caught her up into a warm hug.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v90/subrosa_florens/oblivion/Oblivion358.jpg

"It is so good to see you again girl!" Methredhel exclaimed. "We thought you were dead."

"For a while I thought I was too," Teresa said in agreement as Methredhel let go of her and led her though the doorway. The other Bosmer wasted no time bolting the door behind her, and this time it was her roommate Adanrel, yet another Bosmer woman, who gathered Teresa up in a welcome hug.

Their shack was a simple, one-room affair, as were most of the hovels in the Waterfront shantytown. A long table sat near the door, with the hearth next to it. A single rattan bed sat in a corner on the opposite wall. A bedroll lay on the floor beside it, and a third was rolled up nearby. There was a chest that Teresa knew contained all of Methredhel and Adanrel's belongings, and a small cupboard for plates and pots. It was not much, but it was clean and free of vermin, unlike most of the other shacks of the Waterfront.

"What happened to your hair?" Adanrel asked, looking at Teresa in amazement. The third Bosmer was the same age as the other two, and her attractive features were framed by a mane of long blond hair that Teresa knew was dyed, like her own. "You don't look a thing like yourself. Now you look more like Methredhel in all that leather."

"It's a long story," Teresa breathed. "Have either of you seen Geen-Rana?"

"Oh yes, she has been staying with Damian Magius," Adanrel said. "They have been quite the couple since you disappeared."

"You haven't been back to your old squat have you Teresa?" Methredhel asked. "A real hard-case named Regner moved in there while you were gone."

"So I found out," Teresa sighed as she unstrung her bow and laid its stave against the wall. She felt relieved that her Argonian roommate was safe and sound, and hoped that her new love affair would work out for her. She deserved some happiness, Teresa thought.

"You went there?" Adanrel said in shock.

"I had to get my stuff," Teresa said, untying the blanket containing her belongings and spreading them out on the table before sitting down. A few coins, some empty potion vials, her mortar and pestle, a battered plate, cup, bowl, and assortment of eating utensils, and finally a painted woodcarving of a unicorn. Her entire life in the Imperial City was spread out on the little wooden table. There was certainly not much to show for it, Teresa thought.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v90/subrosa_florens/oblivion/Oblivion141.jpg

"You went in there with Regner!" Methredhel exclaimed. "He's on the run from Skyrim. They say he killed two people there. Are you mad?"

"I had to get my things," Teresa said again. Looking at them now, they seemed like a pretty stupid thing to risk her life for. "I wasn't going to just leave it to him and that Breton."

"What happened to you?" Adanrel said, looking at Teresa as if she were a stranger. "You were never like this before."

Teresa shrugged. She could not explain it herself. Ever since she had met the Emperor the world had changed. No, she thought, I have changed. She was not sure how, or even what she had become. But it was certainly not who she used to be. That had been becoming increasingly clear ever since she had returned to the city.

"It's been a long day." Teresa said, feeling exhaustion creeping in. "Can I sleep here tonight?"

"Of course you can." Methredhel said emphatically now, laying a welcoming hand on Teresa's arm. "There is always room for an old friend."

"Thank you," Teresa said, the hint of a smile crossing her features. Then she looked the other Bosmer in the eyes and covered her hand with her own. "And thank you for what you taught me about using a bow. It saved my life."

Methredhel nodded, squeezing her hand in reply. Teresa could see the questions in the other wood elf's eyes. Questions that she had herself, yet still could not answer. She was glad that Methredhel did not push for more.

They spent the rest of the evening talking about the old times, when they were younger. The more they talked, the more surreal it felt to Teresa. It was like they were talking about someone else, she thought. Someone Teresa had never known. Even Methredhel and Adanrel themselves seemed like strangers. She knew them, remembered all the things they had done together. But none of it felt connected to her anymore.

She went to sleep early, feeling not only exhausted, but distinctly out of place. When dawn came she was already awake. Dressing as quietly as she could, she gathered up her meager belongings, strung her bow, and made her way to the door.

"You aren't coming back are you?" Teresa stopped at the quiet sound of Methredhel's voice.

"I don't belong here anymore." the forester breathed quietly, looking back at the small rattan bed where the other Bosmer lay.

"I know you can't talk about whatever it is that happened to you," Methredhel said. "But someday, if you can, I am a good listener."

"And a good friend too," Teresa said with the tiniest of smiles. "Shadow hide you both."

Then she was gone.

* * *

Teresa walked through the Waterfront without incident. It felt nearly empty in fact. At this time of the morning most of its denizens were fast asleep. Usually she was too, she thought with amusement. She unstrung her bow before she left the tunnel to the Temple District and the rest of the city. This time she did not start when the legionaries at the gate greeted her courteously, and even managed a kind word of her own in response without too much difficulty.

She made her way to the Market District and found that it was already bustling with workmen, although the throngs of shoppers were still hours away. Simplicia should be up and about, Teresa thought. She always tried begging from the men delivering fresh bread to the many shops and street vendors in the early morning hours.

Teresa was taking a shortcut through the alley between two insulas when she came upon a curious sight. A Khajiit whose lithe body was covered in snow white fur sat at the mouth of the alley. The hair on her head was red and worn in braids held back by a headband. Teresa could not help but to notice the similarity with her own pale skin and crimson hair.

The Khajiit had her back to one of the alley walls and seemed to all the world to be nothing but one more street urchin with nothing to do and nowhere to go. Only her fur was too clean, and her muscles too well toned for her to be a street person. While her clothing was far from rich, it was not the patched and tattered garb that a street rat would wear either. As Teresa came up the alley behind her, she noticed that the Khajiit was looking across the main avenue that ran through the district, at a row of shops that lined a small plaza.

"I did not think Khajiit came with white fur?" Teresa found herself asking as she approached. "It looks lovely."

"I did not think Bosmer did either," the Khajiit replied with a smile, then turned her head to look at Teresa. "I like it. People might think we are twins."

Teresa smiled faintly at that. Obviously the Khajiit had been watching her from the corner of her eye. She at least had some skill as a thief, Teresa thought, assuming that was what she must be. Although she had never heard of a thief being awake at this time in the morning.

The wood elf passed by without a further word and turned down the main boulevard. She had other things on her mind than new members of the Thieves Guild. Dodging between workers dropping off baskets of bread, she was tempted to try to filch one. Yet there was hardly any point now that she had money, she prudently mused. Old habits die hard, she thought.

Teresa found Simplicia at an intersection ahead and wrapped the elderly woman in a warm embrace. She did not find it at all difficult to talk the beggar into spending the day with her at the Merchants Inn. Not that she had ever found it difficult to persuade Simplicia to do anything for her.

The room was expensive, even compared to her recent extravagances, but Teresa did not begrudge the money. Ever since returning from her odyssey every moment she spent with the beggar seemed more important than ever. They spent the rest of the day talking while Teresa used her mortar and pestle to grind down the alchemical materials she had gathered into potions.

"You really have changed Teresa," Simplicia said at one point, sitting back to look over the slender Bosmer from head to toe. "I cannot believe how different you are."

"For the better I hope," Teresa ventured, looking up from the vial she was filling with green liquid.

"Definitely for the better," Simplicia said with a smile, and then came up to hug Teresa, nearly causing her to spill the potion. "I am so proud of you girl. You have done so well for yourself."

Suddenly Teresa felt like she was ten years old again. Whenever Simplicia held her she felt that way. Carefully putting down the vial so it would not tip over, Teresa wrapped her arms around the older woman and laid her head against her breast. Closing her eyes, Teresa simply sat there listening to her heart beating as Simplicia gently rocked her back and forth. When Simplicia finally did let go and sat down beside her, Teresa looked back up at her and could not contain a wide smile.

"I have to sell my potions once I am done," Teresa said. "Then let's eat here tonight. Anything you want."

They did just that, but as much as Teresa basked in the glow she felt whenever she was around Simplicia, she could not stop the feeling of the walls closing in around her, or of being an outsider.

"You should be going now dear," Simplicia herself said quietly after their meal. "You cannot stop fidgeting."

"Simplicia I..." Teresa stammered, not wanting to leave, but not wanting to remain in the city any longer either.

"I know," The elderly Imperial said. "I know. But you cannot spend your entire life looking after an old git like me. You are young. You need to be out living life."

"I'll be back," Teresa said, giving the old woman a hug. "I promise."

She left Simplicia most of the money she had earned from selling her potions. The beggar tried to stop her, but Teresa would not have it. For Teresa's entire life Simplicia had been taking care of her. It was the least she could do in return, she thought. Leaving herself just enough to buy some traveling food and a few nights board, she packed her things and was off.

She made her way west through the city, until she was finally back to where she had entered two days ago, at the great western bridge. This time she did not set her feet to the mighty pavestones that made up its span however. Instead she walked down to the lakeshore and wandered along the beach to the north until the sun began to dip over the horizon.

Teresa sat at the edge of the water and watched the sun set along its surface. The colors faded from orange to red, then from red to purple, taking her breath away. The air was clear in her lungs, and the only sound that came to her ears was the soft buzzing of insects and chirping of birds. One of those birds, a raven with sleek black feathers that fairly gleamed in the dying light, settled down next to her. Staring up at the wood elf with its beady eyes, it croaked at her, as if in greeting.

Closing her eyes, she could see the Emperor's face in her mind. He was smiling.

Finally, Teresa knew that she was home.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v90/subrosa_florens/oblivion/Oblivion116.jpg

Posted by: Olen Apr 18 2010, 05:01 PM

You showed her return well, initially warm but rapidly distant as it became clear she didn't fit there. It was believeable and you captured the desire on both sides parts for them to be friends as they were but equally them realising it wouldn't work. And now she is that most wonderful thing; a character with no ties. She's left her past but isn't being directed into her future, I really want to know what she decides to do next seeing as she seems to have completely open options.

I agree with your portrayal of the thieves' guild too, you don't make them seem like quite such spotless do-gooders as they do in game and give them the moral ambiguity which makes them seem real and along with them the district.

Nits: there were three paragraphs in a row which started with 'Teresa' and a few more around that, again I'd be tempted to merge them but my tastes do tend for longer paragraphs. The flow might benifit from them being altered somewhat though.

When Simplicia finally did let go and sat down beside her, Teresa looked back up at her and could not contain a wide smile. -- I'm not sure about that comma.

Posted by: minque Apr 18 2010, 11:12 PM

Mmm what a chapter! So wonderfully described, and the screenies....awesome. I especially liked the last one, Teresa sitting there looking....ahhh so beautiful

Posted by: Destri Melarg Apr 19 2010, 01:22 AM

I guess Thomas Wolfe was right when he wrote You Can’t Go Home Again. At some point everyone experiences the melancholy that attends the sensation of feeling alienated by long absence from familiar surroundings. The image of Teresa sitting on the bank of Lake Rumare looking pensively into the sunset is the perfect ending for such an emotionally charged chapter.

I think you might be on to something with the idea of exploring Teresa’s early life with Methredhel and Adanrel. I for one would be very interested to see how you flesh out those two characters.

Posted by: Remko Apr 19 2010, 04:34 PM

I truly adore the emotion in the last chapter. From the sorrowful farewell with Simplicia to the talk with the Bosmers... wonderful.

Did you take away the arguement she had with the other Bosmer? I remember that on the other forum there was an intense arguement between Methredel's friend and Teresa.

Posted by: SubRosa Apr 19 2010, 05:51 PM

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

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

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


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


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


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


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


* * *

Chapter 7a - Vilverin

8th - 10th Midyear, 3E433

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Posted by: minque Apr 19 2010, 08:24 PM

Nice! Love your descriptions of the landscape and nature as well as the sunset over White Gold Tower! I could easily see all of it in my head, what I mean is even if you never played Oblivion you can actually see the nature...

No I haven't really played the game but I have seen my son play...

I'm very eager to see where this leads so I'm sitting here waiting....

Posted by: Olen Apr 20 2010, 02:40 PM

Great description of city isle, you amke the place so much more than it was in game. I could really picture the rolling farmland and wooded north and road, it just all came together to be what the place should have been.

The writing was particularly good in the last section too, I can't put my finger on it but I just really enjoyed reading it. It could be how the new Teresa has emerged but I thik there's more. It might just reflect that it is new material too. Whatever the reason it was a great part.

Nits:
"Good morning," she said to them in reply -- you might want to consider changing 'morning' to 'evening' seeing as that is the time. I got that it was evening fairly quickly but it caused me a moment's confusion. Saying that if you think 'morning' added more than was lost in flow (at least for me) then there's no problem.

the massive wooden pylons that nailed the pier to the lakebed -- I think pylons should be piles.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Apr 20 2010, 02:54 PM

This is new material, all right, and it shows. Well written, well crafted from the beginning to the end. I liked Teresa's moment of concern when she heard about Kvatch's fall, her thoughts for Martin and the white-haired Redguard (gee, I wonder who that could be? ). The description of City Isle as being much larger and more varied than in the game is also delightful.

I agree with Olen about the posts that anchor docks: pylon is kind of modern, and bring to mind cell-phone towers and electric fence posts. Pile, or pilings, though, is the traditional term for the massive timbers that support the planks of docks and piers.

Look forward to more!

Posted by: treydog Apr 21 2010, 09:27 PM

I have at last caught up again- and it has been a real treat! The mystical dreams and their role in Teresa's growth has added a whole new dimension- one that really enhances this brilliant story.

I also loved the cameo of Julian- it really adds a sense of event happening in the wider world, while providing a nice easter egg for readers of a certain other story....

The new material is also exciting, and it again shows your eye for detail and your excellence at description. What a wonderful journey this has been so far- and I know it will be even more so in the future.

Posted by: Acadian Apr 22 2010, 03:43 AM

Also caught up now. Very, very nicely done! This is a pleasure to read. I have spent quite a bit of time in Methredel's house so that part was neat. I quite enjoy the Waterfront in the game.

Posted by: SubRosa Apr 22 2010, 04:29 PM

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.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v90/subrosa_florens/oblivion/Oblivion361.jpg

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.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v90/subrosa_florens/oblivion/Oblivion364.jpg

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.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v90/subrosa_florens/oblivion/Oblivion366.jpg

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.

Posted by: Acadian Apr 22 2010, 04:47 PM

This is wonderful. The mysterious raven dreams/flights fit right in. It was great to see Julian again! Just very, very nicely done.

With her night vision goggles on and hair full of black feathers, down into the bowels of Vilverin she goes. . . .

Posted by: minque Apr 23 2010, 12:15 AM

ohhh, very suggestive! I so like the dreams, mysterious, dark..sends shivers down my spine.

I'm afraid that's impossible for two reasons;

1 My son is very tall and very strong, he won't let himself be kicked anywhere...

2 Ahem..it's his comp!

Posted by: haute ecole rider Apr 23 2010, 03:44 AM

This is very well done. And you've given me an idea . . . *scribbles madly to herself*

I liked how you moved from Fort Urasek, with its associated settlement to the ruins of Vilverin, with the added mystery of the dead bandits present. Oooooh!

Posted by: Olen Apr 23 2010, 12:44 PM

I like the ruin, you give them a much more intense atmosphere than the 'just another dungeon' feel the in game ones had - like the ruins of an ancient magical culture should feel. I'm really excited to see what you do with the inside of it now. You introduce the daedra well as well, I can see that desire not to meet them not being fulfilled for too long...

The raven flight is quite original and is a nice touch. Using it to keep the reader up to date with external events while keeping the tight focus on Teresa is brilliant.

One nit (I think unless its an accent thing): and quickly fell to sleep -- I would always use asleep with fall (ie fell asleep) and to sleep with go (went to sleep). I can't find anything on it though so it's probably just non-standard (here anyway).

Posted by: Winter Wolf Apr 24 2010, 01:39 AM

Just when I thought that the Sage could not take her writing any higher you have once again proven me wrong, ha, ha. That was a brilliant chapter with so many balls juggled at the same time. I loved the raven sequence and the black feathers on the ground afterwards was a very neat touch.

The finding of the bodies sets up the future of the storyline so very well, and this use of bodies is so ungame like that it immediately transports me into your amazingly crafted story realm. I have always loved that your writing takes off where the game leaves us.

This made me smile. Us rogues and assassins can relate to this !!

Posted by: SubRosa Apr 25 2010, 09:35 PM

Acadian: Thank you A. Now we venture deeper into the breach...


minque: Thank you minque.

1: Age and treachery will always triumph over youth and skill.
2: Your her mom, he owes you for 9 months lodging in the womb.



haute ecole rider: Scribble, scribble, scribble...
Next we will begin to see more of the mystery behind those dead bandits.


Olen: Thank you O. We will indeed be seeing Daedra, eventually. Maybe not as soon as you might think though.

Good catch with asleep/to sleep. You were right. Fixed.


Winter Wolf: Thank you Wolf. That line you quoted does make me think of a certain Bravilian Bosmer as well...


* * *

Chapter 7c - Vilverin

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v90/subrosa_florens/oblivion/Oblivion334.jpg

She could see as clear as day through the enchanted lenses as she made her way down. The stair opened up into a large chamber. A semi-circular arcade was set within the walls to her left, and stretched from the landing around a hollow in the center of the room. At least twenty feet deep, a wide pillar rose from the pit, and Teresa could see what appeared to have once been a bridge ran from it back to the wall to her right. Yet now only broken stones remained of the once graceful structure, littering the floor far below.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v90/subrosa_florens/oblivion/Oblivion367.jpg

Moving down into the arcade, the wood elf found more broken stone on the path that bordered the pit, outside of the columns. Someone had placed long boards across the rent sections of floor. Teresa avoided these however, moving through the columns to her left and into the shadows of the arcade. The wood might give way under feet, she thought as she crept along, or creak under her weight and betray her presence.

Making a complete circuit of the arcade, the Bosmer found herself facing the direction she had come from. A rusty metal chain hung motionless from the ceiling in front of her, with a massive block of wood bristling with metal spikes hanging from its end. It looked new, as if it were freshly cut, and the forester wondered if it might have been enchanted to withstand the effects of time. A scattering of bones lay on the floor around it. She nudged one with the toe of her boot. With no flesh at all upon its smooth surface, it had obviously been here for a long time. An axe lay nearby, its dark, pitted blade still looking quite serviceable in spite of its age.

A stair led down in front of her, and Teresa gingerly edged past the hanging spike trap, careful not to touch it. She knew that if a sentry saw its wicked teeth swaying it would give her away. Mindful of more traps, she took her time going down the stair. She did not go far before the stairwell brightened from a chandelier hanging over a landing below her. Lit by glowing stones, its rusted metal was as motionless as the trap she had passed by.

Teresa made her way down, and found a table and chairs in the landing. A pair of clay cups and a pitcher sat on the table, as did a plate and chunk of bread. Sniffing one of the cups, the wood elf imagined it might be ale within. A dark stain spread across the floor at the beginning of another stairway leading down, and a pair of small spiked balls hung from the ceiling.

The traps did not show any blood on their spines, Teresa noticed as she ducked under them and continued down. They did not kill whoever made that stain on the floor, she reasoned. So what had?

Continuing down until the stair ended in an antechamber, Teresa listened carefully. Not a sound came to her ears, and she moved under the graceful lattice of metal vines that rimmed the edge of the doorway. The room itself was empty of all but rubble, yet she found two other doorways leading deeper into the complex in its far wall. Creeping up to one, she licked her dry lips and peered beyond.

Within was a massive chamber, the stone blocks of its roof held in place by graceful, vaulted pillars. Another chandelier of glowing stones lit the room to enough brightness that Teresa pushed the goggles back from her eyes. Half a dozen square pedestals rose up throughout the room, crowned by graceful metal sconces that were now empty. More lattice-framed doorways led off from the chamber into other rooms or hallways. To the left a great pit opened up, and Teresa could see a stair leading down next to it.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v90/subrosa_florens/oblivion/Oblivion368.jpg

Several crates were scattered throughout the room, as were tables and chairs. The latter were turned over and smashed however, and plates, cups, and other utensils were strewn across the floor. Numerous dark stains blossomed upon the stone blocks underfoot, and as the wood elf entered the room she found both weapons and armor scattered about as well. Many of the latter pieces were fractured and stained as dark as the floor.

Finally, Teresa found her first body within the ruin proper. She smelled it long before she saw it, that same sickly sweet odor as before, only now much worse. This time she did gag when she came upon the rotting flesh that barely hung upon its torn frame. She was not sure what race it might have been when it was alive, other than it could not have been an Argonian or Khajiit from the lack of a tail. She found another like it nearby, and a third. More old bones were scattered around the room as well. At least the latter did not reek, she thought.

She found more food as well. Fresh bread, vegetables, and even a cask of ale. A dozen bedrolls were arranged along the far wall, along with several chests. Within she found clothing, a deck of cards, some wood carvings, and other random items.

Someone had been living here, Teresa thought as she peered through the clutter, and it was not the corpses she saw on the floor. Those were far too old. The food was fresh. The bloodstains were no longer wet, but how long did it take for blood to dry? she wondered. Probably not too long, she imagined. Whatever happened here, it must have been recent.

So where were the people who had been living here? she wondered. Could they have simply left? With fresh bread and cups still full of ale? Not likely, she thought to herself.

Gripping her bow tightly in hand, Teresa slid the goggles back down over her eyes and continued on. The other doors in the room led to smaller side chambers that were empty. That left the depression, whose floor she could see was littered with shattered crates, but otherwise looked empty. Taking the stair down, Teresa moved through the lower room and into a gallery beyond. This looked out upon another chamber further down, and within it she could see another table, a few chairs, and a bedroll.

Once more there was no sign of any inhabitants. Yet clearly someone had been living here, Teresa thought. She slinked through the room and found a stone door whose surface was etched with a leafless tree from top to bottom. Its spreading branches glowed a soft green in the dim light, and the beauty of the craftsmanship took the wood elf's breath away. Laying her hand against the portal, she found it sliding back with hardly any effort at all.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v90/subrosa_florens/oblivion/Oblivion376.jpg

More empty corridors and rooms lay beyond. These places sure were big! the wood elf marveled as she made her way from one chamber to the next. Were they palaces? she wondered, or fortresses? It was impossible to tell what most of the rooms had been used for, as all of their furnishings had rotted away to dust. Only stone and decayed metal remained behind. In a few places she came across curious-shaped chests of the latter material. There were small, hexagonally shaped ones whose lids twisted off. Others were larger and rectangular-shaped. All were empty however.

The bandits had cleaned them out, Teresa thought, or whoever had killed the bandits. If indeed they were dead.

The wood elf found herself in a narrow side corridor that dead ended with what was either an altar or a funeral bier sitting in the middle of it. Another dark stain spread across the floor on one side of the stone slab, appearing to lead directly into the wall. Taking a closer look at the stones of the wall, she found nothing out of place. Yet the blood had plainly run into them.

Walking to the end of the bier, she felt the stones shift under her feet. The Bosmer's heart leapt into her throat as she jumped back, eyes darting to and fro. The grinding of stone against stone was loud in her ears, and she found that the wall where the blood disappeared was slowly lowering down into the floor, revealing a low, square corridor beyond.

Teresa felt her heart double its pace when she saw a figure within it stumbling toward her. With her Night Eye goggles she could see it plain as day. He had been an Imperial, and still wore the tattered remnants of leather and animal hide armor. His left arm was gone, and the armor over his chest was ripped open, revealing a long, thick line of stitching going down the center of his chest. His dark, unblinking eyes were glazed open, and his remaining arm reached out for the wood elf.

Without thinking, Teresa drew an arrow from the bag at her hip, set it to the nock, and drew her bow to full tension. Taking the barest instant to aim at the dead man walking toward her, she let fly. The arrow struck the walking corpse in the center of its unarmored chest, and caused it to stagger a moment before resuming its forward march.

A zombie! Teresa silently cursed as her feet took her back the way she had come. The dead man followed, moving slowly but purposely. Stay calm, Teresa told herself as she stopped and set another arrow to her bow stave. It was slow, she thought, it could not catch her. Pulling the string back to her cheek, again she took only a moment to aim. This close it was easy, so long as she did not get killed.

It took two more arrows to put the zombie down, and Teresa had backtracked through another chamber in the process. Kneeling down beside the now-still corpse, she imagined that he was not long dead. He did not smell too bad for one, nor was his flesh rotted or moldy. He was just like the others she found outside. She found a dagger at his hip, and a few mundane items like a pair of dice and a comb in his belt pouches. Yet not a single coin.

Thinking of the smell gave the wood elf pause. She had gagged at the sickly-sweet odor when she had found the first corpses. Yet after the effluvium of the much older bodies, the smell of the fresher ones now hardly bothered her at all. The forester imagined that she must be getting used to it. Either that or her nose could not smell much of anything after the reek of the old corpses.

"They say if you die in one of those places, your soul is doomed to become one of its guardians."

The words of the carter in Sideways loomed from Teresa's memory, sending a shiver down the length of her spine. Was that what happened? she wondered. Were the bandits cursed?

There was still a clear way out, the wood elf thought as she licked her lips, all she had to do was turn around, and she could leave in one piece. Unlike the former residents.

But where were the other bandits? she wondered, and where was their gold? Where were all the things that she imagined might have been in those Ayleid chests she had come across? Or that should be sitting on those sconces she saw in the main chamber? What in Oblivion was really going on here?

Teresa was not sure what it was that finally caused her to set her feet back to the secret passage she had discovered: greed, pride, or just simple curiosity. In any case she stole down it as quietly as she could, finding herself staring at a wide chamber beyond. It was lit by another of the metal and crystal chandeliers. A wide, round font of stone rose up in the center of the chamber, and it was surrounded by stone benches.

Laying across the top of font was a dead Khajiit. Sprawled on her back, her glassy eyes stared up at the ceiling overhead. Her chest and belly had been ripped open, and her intestines were spread around her body. They trailed down to the floor and back up again in a revolting web that completely shrouded her corpse, like some madman's idea of artwork.

Teresa felt her stomach churn as she took in the grisly scene. The next thing she knew she was on her knees, vomiting up the contents of her breakfast. When she finally had nothing left to heave up, she rose unsteadily to her feet, trying to spit the taste of bile from her mouth and wiping her lips with the back of her leather-clad forearm.

What kind of monster would do something like that? the forester wondered as she stared back into the chamber. It was no zombie, that was for certain. Whoever did that took their time and thought about it, was deliberate in it.

Drawing an arrow from her bag, Teresa set it to the nock of her bow as she entered the room. She found another body near a corridor leading away from it. This was a zombie, quite old by the mold that clung to its rotting flesh. Thankfully it lay still on the floor, hacked into several pieces.

Teresa moved beyond the room, trying not to think about the Khajiit. The rest of the place was bad enough, she thought, the last thing she needed was to make it worse by dwelling upon the ugly end that awaited her if she should falter.

Yet the wood elf was surprised to find that the more she did think about it, the more her fear was replaced by something in her heart that was cold and dark. No one should die like that, she thought, not even a bandit. Whoever did it had a reckoning coming…

A rattling sound came to the forester's ears as she crept up a stairway. She could not place what it could be until her eyes peered over the lip of the stair. Before her stood a skeleton, gripping an axe in one hand. Its back was to her, and it was slowly trudging down the hallway that spread out from the stair.

Rising to her feet, Teresa took the time to draw her bow to half-tension. Taking a deep breath, she slowly let out half of it as she aimed at the center of the monster's back. Then with all of her strength she drew the string back to her cheek and loosed. A moment later the steel head of her arrow pierced the backbone of the undead guardian, emerging from its sternum on other side of its body.

The skeleton made a hissing sound, which Teresa thought was strange for a creature with no lungs. It turned with a loud rattling of bones and raised its axe, springing in her direction. It was fast, much faster than the zombie. With her heart pounding in her chest, the wood elf turned and fled down the stair, fishing out another arrow as she did so.

Reaching the bottom of the stair, she bounded across the landing and turned. Drawing her bow to half-tension once more, she sighted in on the skeleton as it reached the bottom of the steps. She knew that it would be on her in seconds, and pulled her string back to her cheek. A moment later her arrow was in flight, and found a home just above her first. With that the skeleton's backbone gave way and its chest broke apart. Falling to pieces before her eyes, the creature's bones scattered around the room and lay still.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v90/subrosa_florens/oblivion/Oblivion372.jpg

Teresa gulped for air. Damn! that thing was quick, she thought, nearly as quick as she was. Not as tough as the zombies though. It only took half the arrows to finish it. But that speed might catch her, she realized, especially if she was cornered. She would have to be more careful around them.

Moving on, Teresa found more skeletons and old, rotting zombies. Taking the time to be quiet and unseen paid off for her, as it gave her excellent shots at the undead creatures. She was even able to kill one skeleton with a single stealth shot.

Vilverin itself went on before her, and once more Teresa was amazed at the size of the place as she continued down level after level, through both small rooms and wide chambers. One even had a large pool filled with water, and when she was unable to pick the lock of the door leading out, she had to dive in and swim her way to the rest of the complex.

Posted by: Olen Apr 25 2010, 11:17 PM

Excellent update, you caught the tension very well but also the intrigue which drew her onward. And a cliffhanger. In water. Underground. Is there anywhere worse?

You give the ruin a suitably grand scale too, like Cyrodiil it's feels like it has size to fit reality better.

like some madman's idea of artwork. - excellent line, evocative.

I did spot a few things :

The word 'wood' appears quite heavily in the second and third paragraphs (seven times if I recall) between the 'wooden board' and 'wood elf'.

across the rent sections of floor -- great use of the word here, it's a strong one and unusual.
Many of the latter pieces were rent and stained -- but because it's so unusual to use it as an adjective it surprised me a bit the second time. Not sure if its worth changing though becuase its a brilliant word but the degree of proximity jarring increases (IMO) for more unusual words. Still I like it. (I may have had a point there to begin with).

She slinked through - according to my dictionary the past simple is slunk (or slank apparently), however it might be an accent thing and it might be better as slinked seeing as 'slunk' sounds somewhat dark where slinked doesn't...

He did not smell too bad for one, nor was his flesh rotted or moldy. He was just like the others she found outside. -- she gagged which she saw the first corpse though...

Excellent chapter, I really enjoyed it.

Posted by: minque Apr 25 2010, 11:37 PM

Down down in the damp mouldy crypts! I can see her, I can smell what she smells, Her fears are mine...you really write very suggestive, and my imagination let me actually "see what she sees and feel what she feels"

Wonderful Rosie!

Posted by: Winter Wolf Apr 25 2010, 11:46 PM

This was a very hard chapter to write because of all the run-on that was needed to describe what was happening. You did a great job with it and set up the scenes of Vilverin wonderfully well. We can all relate to the size and depth of that place !!

The screenpics added to the mystery of the ruin, and I love those nightgoggles.

She found another body near a corridor leading away from it. This was a zombie, quite old by the mold that clung to its rotting flesh. Thankfully it lay still on the floor, hacked into several pieces.
Technically a zombie is only a zombie when it has been raised to life by witchcraft / necromancy. If it is found dead then it is simply a corpse again. I understand that you wanted to contrast this body with the Khajiit one found, so perhaps just ignore my ramblings.

The skeleton made a hissing sound, which Teresa thought was strange for a creature with no lungs.
Fantastic. I like this.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Apr 26 2010, 02:10 AM

Well done. I liked your descriptions of the corpses and rotting zombies. Very good! Brought back memories of necropsy in vet school on the Tuesday after Labor Day weekend (when the power went out on Friday and we had a heat wave of 90 plus degree weather all weekend). Ugh. Very effective.

Olen already noted my nits, so I'll say no more.

But,

Posted by: Acadian Apr 27 2010, 04:27 PM

Oh, very well done! All of what minque said is true. Very, very real! Great descriptions of places and critters. I love Vilverin!

Posted by: SubRosa Apr 28 2010, 05:26 PM

Olen: Thank you O. I was making a concerted effort to build tension and mystery with this, so I am glad it worked. Plus since this is Teresa's first Ayleid ruin, I wanted to put a lot of effort into describing it, and making it seem really grand.

Good points, I have gone back and edited things. I am going to leave in slinked though, slunk has never really looked right to me.


minque: Thank you M. More damp mold on the way!


Winter Wolf: Thank you WW. That first pic with the goggles on really came out well. It is actually from another ruin (Bawn), but I could not resist using it here.

You make a good point about the zombie/corpse. But I do want to keep the distinction between regular dead bandits and dead monsters that were animated. So I am going to stick with zombie.


haute ecole rider: Thank you h.e.r. Ahh, such fond memories you have... However, I do feel obliged to tell everyone that those descriptions of the corpses were due in large part from your helpful advice.


(The now blond and distinctly wood elfy) Acadian: Thank you A. Who is that hottie in your avatar? I know a certain stringy Bosmer who might like to meet her...


All: This next post is going to be a big one. But I did not want to break it in the middle of the action for fear of losing the impact. I do not suggest eating anything while reading this one...

* * *

Chapter 7d - Vilverin

Finally she came upon a wide intersection of four passages. Another font rose up in the center of it, and shining quartz seemed to grow from the ceiling to light the area. Teresa was thankful when there were no bodies on the font. Instead its basin was dry, and within it sat a curious statuette.

Most of it was made of some white metal which she could not identify. It had four needle-like spines that ran up from a wide base. These were linked by a series of horizontal spars to a fifth spine made of purple crystal that hung between them in the center of the statue. Within its depths Teresa could see some kind of swirling energy, much as she had glimpsed within the heart of the Amulet of Kings. Yet the statue did not give her the warm, comfortable feeling that the amulet had. Rather it felt cold and harsh.

Teresa had no idea what it might be, but it certainly looked valuable. Without a second thought she lifted it from the basin and tucked it into her pack. It ought to bring a good price from somebody, she thought. Probably more than her potions would.

The sweet smell of rotting meat came to Teresa's nose, and afraid of what she might find, she followed it down one of the side passages. It opened up into a wide room with a stone altar in its center. She had no idea what it had been originally built for, but now it was a abattoir. Fresh corpses of several races were spread around the room, torn open and covered with dried blood. Dark, squishy things that she imagined might be organs lay scattered here and there, as did a few other body parts such as fingers and eyes.

One body lay stretched across the altar, its chest cut open and ribs pulled out to expose its innards. A large pair of shears lay on the altar beside it, blades stained dark. A needle and heavy thread sat there as well, along with a small, single-bladed knife and a heavy pair of pliers.

The next thing Teresa knew she was doubled over retching. At least she had nothing left to heave up, she thought as she backed out of the room, trying not to breathe in the stench. Well, now she knew what had happened to the rest of the bandits, she mused. Once more she thought of the entrance. It was still there, and she still had an open road to it.

Yet just as before, that coldness twisted in her guts. There was no leaving this place, she knew, not after seeing what she had. Someone was going to pay…

Backtracking to the intersection, she found the next passage dead-ended in another charnel house. A body hung by its neck from the ceiling, hands bound behind his back. He had been a bandit if the remnants of hide armor on his still undecayed flesh was anything to go by. From the dark splotches that decorated his face and protruding tongue, Teresa imagined his death was not one of a quick broken neck, but rather of slow strangulation. Worse, his stomach had been cut open, leaving his bowels spilled out across the floor underneath him.

Another bandit was crucified upon one of the walls, her body suspended by iron spikes driven though her wrists and into cracks in the stones behind her. Her chest was cut upon from throat to waist and her ribs ripped apart. Her insides were gone, leaving her torso an empty shell of meat.

The final horror was spread-eagled face-down on the floor. His back was cut open and ribs torn out. This had made it possible to pull his lungs from his body and spread them out above his shoulders, like a ghastly pair of wings. Given the rictus of agony fixed upon the dead man's features, Teresa imagined that he must have been alive when it happened.

The wood elf reeled away from the horrors. She could understand killing people like bandits, who attacked you first. But this was beyond that. It was beyond even cold-blooded murder. It was something altogether different. What kind of monster could do such a thing?

There was only one corridor left, and even though she could see clear as day with her goggles, Teresa felt like she was smothered in darkness. Mindful of the pressure plate she had stepped on earlier, the wood elf took her time, and was rewarded when she discovered a slightly raised section of the floor in front of her.

Taking a closer look at the narrow corridor ahead, she noticed three long slits in the walls to either side, running from the arched ceiling down to waist level. Beyond them the corridor turned to the right, out of her sight.

So what comes out of those? Teresa wondered, and does it still work? Getting down on hands and knees, below the level of the openings in the walls, she gingerly reached out and pressed down the stone.

She heard a snap of some kind of clasp in the walls, and a moment later three pendulums came sweeping across the corridor, their wide blades shining bright and sharp. The outer two came from her left, and the inner one from the right. It only took them a moment to slash through the empty air of the corridor and vanish into the slits in the opposite walls.

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Teresa waited, and realized that she was holding her breath. She faintly heard gears turning in the walls, and a moment later the pendulums came back across the hallway. Gulping for air, she tried not to think of what would have happened to her if she had not seen the trap.

The pendulums continued for lengthy moments. Teresa was not sure how long. The time seemed to stretch on forever, and she drew forth another arrow and set it to her nock just in case someone, or something, came along as she waited. Finally the blades vanished into the walls and stopped, and she inched her way through the corridor, being careful not to step on any more triggers.

The corridor turned to her right, and after continuing for a few steps it ended at a flight of stairs going up. The wood elf could see a light coming from above, and only after peering for more traps, she eased her way up. Before she was halfway to the top the rattling of bones came to her ears, and the wood elf paused to lick her lips before continuing.

Peeking over the last few stairs, she found that they opened up into a great chamber. It was lit by more shining crystals that grew from the center of the ceiling. Square pillars held up the vault of the roof overhead, save for one whose upper half was missing. To her left Teresa saw a raised gallery running the length of the room, and directly across from her she saw a doorway, which she imagined might lead to the walkway above.

A metal brazier sat in the middle of the room, and motes of light danced lazily up from within its basin. A stones of the floor rose slightly around it, and surrounding that were numerous biers. A skeleton lay upon one, with a sword clasped in its bony fingers. A bedroll was stretched out across another, and one of the long Ayleid chests topped a third. A fourth seemed to hold some kind of alchemical apparatuses, and a fifth had several books and writing implements.

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A skeleton patrolled to one side of the room, axe clutched in one hand and a long, oval shield in the other. Sitting on the floor with his back to one of the biers was a Redguard. His tightly curled hair was cut short, and he wore a dark robe emblazoned with a skull crossed by a pair of bony hands.

So this was the monster responsible for all of this, Teresa thought, feeling that cold rage building deep within her. Reaching down to her waist, she popped the stopper from a jar that hung from her belt. Thrusting the barbed tip of her arrow within, she withdrew it a moment later dripping with a viscous black substance. Time for him to meet her friend nightshade, the forester thought with a faint smile, replacing the stopper and setting the arrow on the nock.

Without thinking, Teresa rose to her feet on the stair, bringing her bow to half tension and sighting in on the man. The creak of her flexing bow stave was loud as thunder in her ears. Apparently not only in hers, for at that moment the skeleton whirled, fixing its empty eyesockets upon her with an eerie hiss. The Redguard must have heard the skeleton, for he too looked up as Teresa let fly.

The wood elf was not sure if it was divine or infernal providence that drove the man to reflexively throw up the book he held to protect himself. In any case, the arrow that would have pierced his chest instead sunk deeply into its pages. She heard him curse, and wondered if she had still hit one of his hands as he rose and dropped the skewered tome.

But her attention was no longer on the Redguard. Rather her gaze was riveted upon the skeleton that was now charging across the room at her. Quickly she reached for another arrow and set it to her bow stave. She did not pull it to half-tension to properly sight in on the skeleton. There would be no time, she realized. Instead she drew it back to her cheek and spared only the barest instant to aim at the onrushing monster. Then she loosed and whirled away, bounding down the stairs.

She heard the arrow thunk into something hard behind her as she raced down the steps, taking them two and a time. The rattling of bones was loud behind her, telling her the skeleton was still alive, if such a thing could be called that. The wood elf hit the landing with both feet and scampered to the end of the short hallway. Turning, she drew another arrow from the bag at her hip and raised her bow.

The skeleton was halfway down the stair, her arrow firmly planted in its tall shield. Damn, she thought, another useless shot! Raising the bow to half-tension, she sighted in on the right side of the skeleton, hoping it would not be able to block with the shield in its left hand. Then she let fly and raced around the corner. She heard another heavy thud as the arrow hit home somewhere behind her. Probably in its shield, she mused sourly.

That is when she realized where she was. The pendulum trap! She felt a pressure plate give way beneath her bounding toes, and dove to the floor as the whooshing of metal cutting through air filled her ears. A cool breeze rushed by, and she knew that one of the swinging blades had passed by overhead. She saw another sweep across the corridor ahead of her, and rather than rise to her feet, she rolled down the hallway, trying to keep as low to the floor as possible.

She surged to her feet at the far end, turning to look back the way she came. The skeleton had already turned the corner, and was charging down the corridor at her with axe raised. A moment later a pendulum sailed from the wall beside it, ripping its bones to shreds in an instant.

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A faint smile came to the wood elf's lips as she drew another arrow and poisoned it. Saved by one of the very traps meant to kill her! she thought, how ironic was that?

"I don't know who you are, but you picked the wrong tomb to raid!" The voice of the Redguard came from around the corner at the end of the pendulum hall. Teresa raised her bow and drew it back to half-tension, sighting in on the lip of the wall. A moment later she saw curly hair and shot. But at the same moment one of the pendulums chose to arc through the hallway, and the forester's arrow snapped against its blade.

"Not your day is it tree-hugger!" the man snickered, extending his hand. A bolt of fire erupted from his fingers and sped toward her. Yet it too fizzled out when it struck a swinging pendulum.

Teresa drew another arrow as the Redguard ducked back around the corner. Taking the time to poison it as well, she once again set it to the nock. She waited, and after several long moments she heard a grinding sound within the walls, and the blades stopped in mid-flight.

He must have a switch to turn them off, Teresa thought. Not wasting a moment, she darted into the hallway, careful to step around the deadly blades that now hung motionless. Emerging past them, she stepped back around the corner and looked up the stair in time to see the Redguard silhouetted at the top.

She raised her bow and fired. At the same time the mage once more threw out his arm, but now a bolt of lightning shot out. Heat seared into Teresa's side as she felt herself pushed back against the far wall. The smell of roasting meat filled her nostrils. Yet in spite of that she smiled faintly. For she had seen her arrow strike home this time, in spite of the yellow flash of a Shield spell as it had hit.

Still, she did not want another of those. Pushing herself off the wall, she dove around the corner. Pain erupted in her side, and she stared down at the charred leather of her cuirass even as her free hand reached into one of her belt pouches. It would not survive many more of those, the wood elf thought, nor would she. Drawing forth a small bottle, she pulled the stopper out with her teeth and hastily poured the pink liquid down her throat.

Just like that the pain vanished. Willing her hands to stop trembling, Teresa drew another arrow and set it to her nock. Taking a deep breath, she raised her bow and stepped back around the corner.

She found herself staring at a headless zombie. She fired out of reflex, taking it square in the chest. It paused a moment as the barbed head struck home, then reached out for her with a clawed hand. Desperately scrabbling backward, Teresa lost her balance. The next thing she knew she was on the floor. Another bolt of lightning sizzled through the place she had been standing a moment before. Yet it was the zombie that filled her vision.

Rolling to one side as its arm swept at her, Teresa scuttled back down the pendulum hallway. She wished there were one of those switches to activate it on her side as she navigated her way through the blades. If wishes were horses we would all ride, she thought as she drew another arrow and set it to her stave.

She turned at the end of the hall to find the zombie still working its way around the first pendulum. At least the blades were slowing it down, she thought as she took careful aim and shot, piercing one of its hips. The zombie continued with a noticeable limp after that, and Teresa pulled another arrow and sent it into the other hip.

The zombie crashed to the floor after that, yet still it crawled forward. At the end of the hall behind it she saw the robes of the mage. This time she was able to step out of the way as another bolt of lightning flashed brightly in the corridor. Now she saw that the arrow was gone from the necromancer's body. He had pulled it out, she thought, but had he noticed the poison on the tip?

Teresa backed up to the font where she had found the curious statuette. Crouching behind its hard stone, she drew another arrow. She rose a moment later and drew her bow to half-tension, sighting in on the zombie. Letting fly, she buried the arrow between its shoulders, and it vanished into thin air.

Drawing forth another arrow, she lifted her eyes to the mage and took careful aim on his figure. As she did so, she wondered why he had not fired another bolt of fire or lightning at her. Maybe he was casting some kind of protective spell?

In any case, he dodged to the side, putting one of the pendulums between the two of them. Teresa held her fire and sidestepped, looking for a clear shot. She caught sight of him drinking a potion as she finally found an opening. Letting fly, she once more saw the bright flash of a Shield spell as her arrow struck home in his arm.

With a snarl on his lips, the Redguard pointed at her with his other hand. Lightning flashed, and the next thing Teresa knew she was on the floor with bright spots dancing in her eyes. Gritting her teeth, the forester scuttled behind the font as agony seared through her chest. Now she saw that her cuirass was a blackened and smoldering ruin as she reached for another healing potion and greedily downed its contents.

Which one of us is going to run out of potions first? she wondered as she reached for another arrow. The thought made her stop. What in Oblivion was she doing? she wondered. This fetcher was a necromancer, and a real sadistic one at that. Was she really fighting him? Why on Nirn was she not running away like any sane person would?

The Emperor's face filled her mind's eye then, his blue eyes flashing brighter than any lightning bolt. "It is our choices in life that define us." his words echoed in her brain. Could she really choose to run, after what she had seen?

"Come out here and die while you still have the option of doing it quickly!" the necromancer's voice ripped through the hallway. It had an edge to it that was not simply anger or hatred, Teresa noted. Rather it sounded like pain. She wanted to shout something witty back at him, or at least something defiant, like all the heroes did in the stories. Yet her tongue seemed frozen in her mouth, and all she could do was smile faintly as she rose and brought her bow to bear.

She let her arrow speak for her as it flew down the hallway. Once again it passed by a bolt of lightning as it found a home in the Redguard's shoulder. This time Teresa was ready however, and she had fallen behind the stone font just an instant before the deadly energy hissed past overhead.

Teresa took a deep breath. She could do this, she thought, she was quicker, and he would run out of magicka far sooner than she would run out of arrows.

With that inspiration blossomed within her head. Rather than taking the time to ready another arrow, she fixed the symbol of her Flare spell firmly in mind. Leaning out from around the side of the round pedestal, she gestured toward the necromancer and loosed a bolt of fire from her hand.

As she expected, he rolled to the side to avoid the oncoming flames. But rather than ducking back to cover, she was already hurling another blast of fire, and another, leading her shots in the direction she knew he would have to move to dodge her previous bolts. Thanks to the energy loaned to her by the Ayleid well outside the ruin, she was able to fill the corridor with a veritable wall of fire, and soon enough the Redguard screamed as he was caught in at least one of the blasts.

It was only when she was finally out of magicka that Teresa ducked back behind the font and reached for another arrow. As she did another thought came to her head. Normally she could only use magic a few times before completely running out of energy and having to wait for it to build back up again. He had been burning through spells like mad since she had seen him. How much energy could he really have? Then she remembered the potion she had seen him drinking. Had it been one to give him more magicka?

She would just have to shoot faster than he could drink, the wood elf resolved as she rose to her feet and aimed down the hall. The Redguard was gone however. But now another zombie was standing in his place. As soon as she came into view it lurched toward her, reaching out with its long fingers.

Another summoning, the forester thought as she took aim and put an arrow into the zombie's hip. It continued forward with a limp, and Teresa backed away as she pulled out another arrow. She had played this game before, she thought, and could do so again. The zombie was down with a few more arrows, and finished with a fourth through the head.

With still no sign of the necromancer, Teresa moved back down the pendulum hall with an arrow on the nock. Sidestepping around the far corner, only an empty stair greeted her eyes. Several empty potion bottles lay carelessly discarded on the floor of the landing, as did a curious blue-green crystal.

It was long, about the size of her fist, and tapered to a diamond-shaped point. Its wide base was sheathed in a delicate latticework of the same metal she had seen throughout the ruin. The memory of the empty sconces on the pedestals in the bandit's chamber came to Teresa's mind, and she wondered if it had once sat atop one of them.

Teresa forgot about the odd stone when she caught sight of a trail of blood leading up the steps. She smiled faintly as she scampered up the stair and into the great chamber beyond, bow at the ready. There was still no sign of the necromancer, and the wood elf carefully sidestepped around each bier in the chamber, ready to shoot in case he was hiding behind one.

The wood elf picked up the trail of blood in the doorway at the far end of the room. Following it, she found that it did indeed lead up a short, winding stair to the gallery that flanked the side of the chamber. She moved briskly, but not so fast that she might blunder into a trap or ambush.

Soon Teresa found herself climbing a tall stair that ended with another of the tree-engraved doors. Beyond she found herself standing in a thick copse of trees. Behind her the doorway was part of a tiny structure, just large enough to fit the door and the space for a person to walk down the stair beyond.

The sound of water lapping the shore was loud in her ears, and as the wood elf made her way through the thicket she saw the ruins spread out before her. It was a back door, she thought as her eyes scanned to and fro. Yet there was no sign of the necromancer, and no more droplets of blood for her to follow.

He had escaped.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Apr 28 2010, 06:43 PM

Darnnit!

This was very well written, fast paced and extremely intense. I didn't even notice the length of the post - it was that good.

The use of magicka in this scene is well described, and more than I would have imagined. Julian has a lot to learn from Teresa, it seems.

Posted by: Olen Apr 28 2010, 07:18 PM

I agree, the length made that build into something really tense, following the necromancer up the stair and expecting an ambush had me on the edge of my seat.

And now she's beaten him, another development in her. Great stuff. I wonder how much mroe we'll see of necromancers..

A body hung by its neck from the ceiling, hands bound behind his back -- I wasn't sure about this line but have decided that I really like it. Using 'it' initially then moving to 'he' really brings home that the corpses were people.

Great stuff, it really enhances Cyrodiil

Nit:
"It is out choices in life that define us." -- just a typo, but it was all I saw.

Posted by: SubRosa Apr 30 2010, 10:30 PM

Thank you haute and Olen. I will have proper replies tomorrow, when I post the conclusion of Chapter 7.

Right now however I would like to ask for a little help from people, and give you all a chance at getting your characters into the TF (I know, what a thrilling honor... ). I am going to start writing a chapter soon that involves a lot of Fighter's Guild members, and I would like to put some meat on the characters. I know who the primary characters are, but I could still use about a dozen more characters acting as extras.

Rather than create them all on my own, I thought I might turn to all of you out there. If you have a character from the game that you think would fit, please send me their name, race, description (including gear), and personality traits. I am not going to get into anything really deep with them in the story, but I would like to have a group of people that are vibrant and stand out. Think of the Marines in the movie Aliens. Keep in mind that like in the movie, these characters will not survive the chapter...

So if you have a fighter type (not necessarily in the FG in your game), please let me know. Rather than spam the thread, please PM me the info. In a few weeks you might see them die in a loud and glorious fashion in the TF.

Posted by: SubRosa May 1 2010, 04:35 PM

haute ecole rider: Thank you h.e.r. In my outline I just have "Teresa has titanic fight with necromancer and he escapes". I think this was probably the best action scene I have ever done. I tried to portray the antagonist as being smart, and liberally using the same toys available to the player in the game. Not to mention fleeing when things looked bad for him. I also tried to show that luck is not always on Teresa's side either, with many of her arrows missing by chance.

Did you mean Teresa spamming the corridor with Flare spells? I learned that from the Imps in Doom. One of the fun things about that game was standing in a hallway with a dozen Imps at the other end and dodging all the fireballs.

Olen: We will see more necromancers, but not for a long while. When I left off at the Bethesda forum I was just about to start with a necromancer arc. Eventually we will get to that part. Teresa will of course get the chance to square off with Jalbert (the necromancer from this chapter) again as well.

I did not notice that it/he with the hanged man! Since it works I suppose I may as well leave it as it is.

I did fix the other typo. Good eye on that!

All: Now the blessedly short conclusion of Vilverin.


* * *

Chapter 7e - Vilverin

Returning the way she had come, Teresa explored the necromancer's lair. She found a fist-sized block of stone pressed half-way into the wall near the stairway down below. It was etched with a pattern of cyan vines similar to those she found on the Ayleid doors. That might be to turn the pendulums on and off, she imagined, and left it alone.

Within the brazier at the center of the room she found not a fire, but rather more cyan crystals like she had seen in the hallway. Unlike that one however, these glowed brightly, and sent tiny motes of light into the air around them, floating like wisps of pollen on a spring day.

Those had to be valuable, she thought, reaching out a hand to gather them up. As soon as she touched one she felt the magicka within it. It was some form of reservoir of power, she realized, and as she stared at the stone in her fingers, she realized that she could draw that energy into herself, much like she had with the well outside. The necromancer must have used the one in the hallway below to keep his magicka up during the fight, she realized.

One stone was different from the others. It was long and slender, tapering to points at both ends, and had an elegant metal latticework bound around its center rather than its base. She could feel magicka within it as well when she handled it. Yet it seemed different, more distant, as if something was blocking her ability to draw it into herself. It must be used for something else, Teresa thought. Yet it was still clearly magical, so she took it along with the others.

Moving to the nearest bier, a closer look at the apparatuses on it revealed them to be alchemical after all. Along with a mortar and pestle, she found what she imagined was a calcinator, alembic, and retort. She had seen them in the alchemical shops in the Market District, but had never used them. Well, there was a first time for everything, she thought as she put them aside with the energy crystals.

The Ayleid coffer held two bags. The first contained some bread, produce, and bottles of wine. After the things she had seen in the ruin, Teresa could not even imagine eating anything that had been in the same place. The other clinked as she unwrapped the leather strap tying it shut, and the wood elf's eyes lit up at the sight of the coins filling it. Here was the loot of the bandits, she thought as she quickly hoisted it from the chest and put it with the magical stones. She could only imagine what Simplicia would say when she saw it. In the very least, she could keep the old woman off the streets and in a warm, dry room for some time.

She only glanced at the bier with the skeleton on it. It was not moving, and that was all that really concerned her. Besides, its sword and armor were rusted and pitted with age. Not worth the effort of carrying to a merchant to sell them.

The writing bier revealed several books, including one titled Varieties of Daedra, which appeared to describe the minions of one of the Daedric Princes. That might come in useful, Teresa thought, given what people were saying about the Daedra being on the loose. So she put that aside with the rest of the loot. The other books she found seemed less interesting. One named The Misfortunes of Virtue, a guidebook on the Imperial City, and a bunch about Imperial history.

Then off to one side she came across a tome that looked unusual, bound in some kind of light tan leather. A skull and pair of crossed bony hands made of pieces of silver were set into the leather face, and The Mysteries of the Worm was likewise stamped across the top in silver. Opening its cover, she found it to be filled with gruesome pictures of mutilated corpses, mysterious symbols, and text that spoke of preparing the dead.

Necromancy, the wood elf thought as the pages fell from her hands. She wiped her fingers on her greaves, trying to get the feeling of the soft leather binding from her mind. What kind of hide had that come from? she wondered, feeling her stomach churning once more.

Before she could quit the writing area entirely, a letter caught Teresa's eye. Curiosity piqued the wood elf to take a closer look.

Alucard, my friend -

At first I thought my necessarily hasty exile to be a curse, leaving me bereft of the comforts of civilization. But my new haven provides not only safety, but a cornucopia of flesh. That it is far from the prying eyes and ears of the Imperial Legion only makes it all the more suitable. Now I need not worry about subterfuge in obtaining my materials, nor precautions when preparing them. You should hear the screams that ring through these halls! They would make your blood boil with delight.

Even more fortuitous, I have made an association with like-minded individuals here in Cyrodiil. They have invited me to join their fraternity, and I am seriously considering it. They not only promise of the deeper lore of lichdom, but whisper to me that their patron is none other than the King of Worms himself! They have given me a book written in his own hand, and the mysteries that it reveals only whet my appetite for more.

A group of bandits moved in here not long ago, thinking it not only a safe refuge, but also a convenient location to prey upon travelers on the road, which is not too far away. Truly, does the darkness smile upon me. They have provided me with great sport in the last few days, especially those I was able to take alive. You were right in convincing me to learn more of restoration, for thanks to those arts I was able to prolong the entertainment far longer than otherwise possible. If only you could have been here to enjoy it with me!

Jalbert

Wishing she had not read it, the forester crumpled the paper and threw it into the now empty brazier at the center of the room. The manual of necromancy followed, and soon both were consumed in the blaze of a Flare spell. With the crackling of flames behind her, Teresa made her way out of the darkness and into the light above.



Notes: De Vermis Mysteriis, or Mysteries of the Worm, is not mine. It is a part of the Cthulhu Mythos created by Robert Bloch. The title was perfect though, so I borrowed it. Likewise, The Misfortunes of Virtue is a real book, written by the Marquis de Sade.

Posted by: haute ecole rider May 1 2010, 07:42 PM

An outstanding conclusion to a tense episode in what I still consider to be one of the spookiest dungeons ever!

In my previous comment, I had meant the entire confrontation with the necromancer, for exactly the reasons you state. It was a great magical battle and gave me ideas for battlemages! My typical playing style is mostly melee, with some marksmanship thrown in, and magic is often an afterthought for me. So to read combat that is purely spell-based, especially as well-written as yours, is pure delight for me.

I look forward to more!

Posted by: Olen May 1 2010, 10:06 PM

A good bit of looting in conclusion to a dungeon raid, makes me wonder where next...

The letter is excellently done, rather better than the in game one and further bending the world to a slightly different perspective which is pleasant to see

I too look forward to more.

(I'm afraid I haven't got any fighters for you, the only one I have is Firen and he'd be a shade young in 4E1...)

Posted by: Remko May 4 2010, 12:40 PM

Damn... I soooo badly wanted Jalbert's bloody corpse sprawled across those steps near the altar after your awesome (more eewsome but ok ) awful desciption of the horrors in that room..... Truly a GREAT combat scene!

Please, PLEASE, have her run in with that despiccable excuse for a human being again.....

Oh, and I loved the new part with the ravens

Posted by: SubRosa May 4 2010, 04:28 PM

haute ecole rider: Thank you h.e.r. Vilverin is one of my favorite Ayleid ruins. They really put a lot into it, probably because it is the first dungeon you see when you exit the sewers.

You should try playing a pure mage sometime. It is a lot of fun, and really a potent character type. At higher levels much more powerful than your basic fighter. Try a conjurer to start with, as they are easy. You just conjure up a melee fighting critter, and the bad guys will always ignore you and go straight for it instead. Then go to a touch destruction spell, step behind the bad guy, and blast away.


Olen: Thank you Olen. I started with the letter from the game, making only a few alterations to it. But the more I worked on the chapter, the more of it I threw out, until finally it was completely new. Now it really shows quite a bit of insight into Jalbert's personality, and also has a hint of the necromancer conspiracy that we will be seeing more of in the future.

No worries about the fighter. I actually came up with nearly a dozen of my own in the last few days. Watching the Sharpes Rifles films again has certainly helped!


Remko: Thank you Rem. I wanted there to be no doubt that Jalbert was a villain, so I added the gruesome touches in the "play room" of his. We will be seeing him again...


All: We continue on with another all-new chapter, where Teresa learns more about her feathered friends. But first, she hears more news about the ongoing Oblivion Crisis.


* * *

Chapter 8a - The Witch of Lake Trasimene

10th - 17th Midyear, 3E433

The sun was rising when Teresa came to the Red Ring Road, a burlap sack filled with loot hanging over one shoulder. She paused a moment, looking back the way she had come. The ground sloped down beneath her, giving her a clear view across the miles of woodland to the lake beyond. Near its blue waters she could still pick out the broken arches of Vilverin, rising like white fangs from green forest canopy.

The wood elf set down her load with a sigh, and treated herself to a squirt of water from the skin that hung diagonally across her chest. She looked back at the rising sun. She should be going to bed soon, the forester thought. Yet after what she had seen the previous night, Teresa was in no mood to close her eyes. That necromancer was still on the loose, she knew. For all she knew he might even be watching her, waiting for a chance to strike back…

No, Teresa thought with a faint smile, she had well and truly sent him packing. He probably would not stop running until he reached Skyrim…

With that thought, Teresa lifted her bag and set her feet to the road. Putting the lake to her right, she made her way back in the direction of Urasek. She could take the ferry to the City Isle and be back to the Imperial City itself in maybe half a week, she thought. Or perhaps she might head east, where Cheydinhal still waited at the end of the Blue Road.

In time the sound of horses came to her ears, their neighs and whinnies occasionally rising above the steady clomping of hooves on the hard stones of the road. Then came the tramping of marching feet, along with the clatter of metal against metal. Out of reflex, the wood elf moved to the side of the thoroughfare and found a place to hide. She knew that sound all too well from her years in the Imperial City. It was soldiers, and from the steadily increasing noise, there were a lot of them coming in her direction.

They came into view soon after. First was a double column of riders. Teresa imagined that there must be at least three dozen of them, if not more. They wore the heavy plate of the Imperial Legion, and the points of their lances glittered in the air above their heads. One of them hoisted a standard topped with the golden head of a dragon, jaws agape as if in mid-roar. A brightly-colored silk windsock flowed out behind the head, making it look like it was flying through the air.

Behind them came the foot soldiers, tromping down the road six abreast. Clad in the same steel plate as the riders, their helmets hung in front of their chests, dangling from straps around their necks. Their shields were covered in leather, and likewise hung from straps around their left shoulders. Each tilted a cross back over the same shoulder, made from two wooden stakes tied together, with a bedroll and other gear hanging off the crossbeam. Finally each wore an arming sword on one hip, and a wide-bladed dagger on the other.

No wonder they called themselves mules, the forester thought, at the moment they looked more like pack animals than fighters.

The infantrymen were led by standard bearers. Their armor was covered with the hides of wolves and bears, and their faces peeked out from the opened jaws of the beast's heads. One carried a long standard topped by a golden wreath surrounding an opened hand. A series of silver discs ran down the shaft beneath it, ending in an upturned crescent. Beside him stood another man hoisting aloft a simpler square of red velvet, edged in cloth-of-gold with the words Cohors III emblazoned upon it in the same material.

Yet what really caught the wood elf's eye was the third standard, which was crowned by a golden sculpture of a man's head. It was the likeness of an Imperial in his prime. In spite of the difference in age, Teresa recognized him instantly, for his face was forever burned upon her memory. It was Emperor Uriel Septim VII.

Teresa rose from her hiding place, transfixed by the image of the Emperor waving in the air above the heads of the oncoming legionaries. She could still see his piercing blue eyes in her memory, and hear his voice in her ears. Her throat tightened, and she could feel her eyes moisten in spite of herself.

The next thing she knew she was standing beside the road as the standard-bearers passed her. A line of trumpeters came next, their great instruments curling around their torsos before ending in wide bells over their heads. A soldier with a transverse-crested helmet hanging from his neck strode beside them. In one hand he grasped a swagger stick carved with the likeness of vines curling up around its length. Otherwise he looked much the same as the other soldiers.

"Damn fine standard, isn't it?" said the man, his eyes following Teresa's gaze. The forester instantly recognized him as a centurion. "Damn fine man too. I'll miss him when we get our new one."

Teresa blinked. An officer in the Imperial Legion was talking to her? Not growling, or snarling, but simply talking? She had to resist the urge to look around to see if anyone else was standing behind her. Yet even more surprising was that she found herself responding. "New one?"

"You haven't heard the rumors yet?" the centurion stopped now and wiped the sweat from his brow as the rest of his men marched by. Teresa noted that his hair had long since gone to grey, and the feet of an entire murder of crows were etched into the corners of this dark eyes. When the wood elf shook her head, the middle-aged Imperial went on.

"They say we have a new Emperor, one the fetching assassins missed." The soldier paused to spit on the dirt beside the road. "I heard his name is Martin, Martin Septim, and the Hero of Kvatch is with him."

"The Hero of Kvatch?" Teresa wondered aloud. Somehow she knew who that must be. "You mean Julian, the Redguard?"

"That's her alright," the centurion seemed to grow even taller and straighter, if that was possible. "Julian of Anvil. She single-handedly closed the Oblivion Gate and then led the way back into the city. She was a centurion in the Sixth Legion up in Skyrim, the Ironclads."

Teresa remembered her dream from the day before. Julian, Jauffre, and the young Imperial with his father's eyes, all making their way into the mountains north of Lake Rumare. Her head turned in that direction. Somewhere out there, in the peaks that rose far in the distance, they were there. Martin Septim, Jauffre, and Julian of Anvil - The Hero of Kvatch.

"Bruma…" Teresa muttered, "it's Bruma up that way right?"

"Yeah, that's where we're headed, Bruma," the centurion said. "Almost all the Fifth is going there. The Elder Council called up all the battlemages in Cyrodiil, so we'll have the Mages Guild with us. The Fighters Guild too. The next time we'll be ready."

"The next time?" the wood elf asked, eyebrows furrowing together.

"It's not over yet kid," the centurion rumbled. "It won't be until we've hunted down every last one of those fetchers and nailed them to crosses."

Teresa shuddered in spite of herself. She had seen that before. Not the aftermath of the necromancer's rough work, but the real thing, as it happened, taking people days to die. It was always outside the Market Gate, where the Imperial Legion hanged murderers as well. But hanging was only for people who killed an ordinary citizen, she knew. Those who killed a patrician, or a legionary, had four nails and a cross waiting for them…

"Until then you better be careful, without us doing our regular patrols the bandits are going to start getting bold." The soldier gestured at the blackened and scorched mess of Teresa's cuirass. "Looks like you've already found that out."

Teresa looked down at herself. Now that she saw it in the light of day, she found that her armor was in a worse state than she had imagined. It was amazing what only a few lightning bolts could do, she thought. She was going to have to get it repaired, or buy a new suit. Looking back up, she found that the centurion was on his way again, cursing a blue streak as he jogged his way back to the head of the column.

Teresa stood there for a long time as the soldiers marched by. They just kept coming, with more standards, trumpeters, and even mules loaded down with equipment filing past her. There were even people who were clearly civilians scattered between the rank and file legionaries, carrying equipment. It was as if a vast snake - or a dragon - was winding its way down the road.

With no end of the dragon's tail in sight, Teresa turned her gaze behind her. The hills rose to a high ridge, and somewhere far behind them was Cheydinhal. Since there was no way she was going down the road with the Imperial Legion on it, she lifted her gear and headed east.

Posted by: haute ecole rider May 4 2010, 05:46 PM

Loved the description of the cohort on the road. Yes, the mules, they packed everything they needed after a day of fighting as well as for the fighting itself!

Hmm, so Julian was a centurion in the Legio Sixth? The Ironclads? Does that mean they call her Old Ironsides?

Posted by: Remko May 4 2010, 06:17 PM

Very nice! The description of the army was great. I could really see it as if I was there.

I noticed the "h" ran away for the approaching soldiers:

Posted by: treydog May 4 2010, 10:47 PM

"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."

Cannot think of a better description of what TES world(s) allow the player to do- or of Teresa's newly-expanded horizons.

The raven vision was wonderful, as was the description of the Ayleid well. And now, into Vilverin!

"The wood might give way under feet, she thought as she crept along, or creak under her weight and betray her presence."

Love the situational awareness of an experienced (or becoming so) forester.

"This close it was easy, so long as she did not get killed."

Words to remember when we start to get over-confident. Senior Trooper Carbo would approve.

Have to stop now, but I will try to catch up in the next day or two.

Typos-

From the raven dream in 7b- "The first was a Redguard woman with milky white hair. Behind him was..."

Despite the name, I do not believe Julian is a gender-bender....

From near the end of 7c- "Vilverin itself went on before her, and once more Teresa was amazed at the size of the place as she continued down level after level, though both small rooms and wide chambers."

Whoever has been on a murderous rampage through the ruin has apparently also scarpered with your "R" from "through."

As to giving Athynae a "guest-appearance," it is interesting that you should mention that.... I have actually considered explaining her "disappearance" from Blood on the Moon by having her go to the mainland in a attempt to get the (supposed) marriage contract overruled. And who better to overrule the Duke than- the Emperor! Unfortunately, a series of mis-adventures finds Athynae in the Imperial Prison (shades of her mother!) and then....

Posted by: Olen May 5 2010, 12:18 PM

Good update. I loved the description of the legion, the heavy use of onomatopoeia really brough the scene to life. I liked the mirroring between the footsoldiers 'tromping' and the cavalry 'clomping'. Great description.

and the feet of an entire murder of crows were etched into the corners of this dark eyes -- and that is a wonderful metaphor.

Posted by: Acadian May 5 2010, 07:26 PM

Caught up again. The fight in Vilverin was rivetting. I agree with you, that it was your best 'fight' scene ever. I loved that it did not go predictably at all.

I like that the Main Quest is happening around Teresa. She is a minor character on the perifery and this suits her so very well. Stringy or scrawny wood elves just don't seem like save-the-world types, do we? Let's leave that to the sturdier adventurers.

Wonderfully done!

Posted by: SubRosa May 6 2010, 06:40 PM

haute ecole rider: Thank you h.e.r. Once more Peter Connolly was my co-pilot as I wrote that. I spent a while looking for a good slang term for the legionaries to use for themselves. In the end I turned to history, and went with Marius' Mules. Although in this case there is obviously no Marius...

Old Ironsides was a wooden ship, so that would not work at all. I am thinking The Merrimack! Or perhaps The Monitor? If you have any other questions about Julian, feel free to ask me!


Remko: Thank you. I think of that scene as "The Army of Mother-******* Light on the march, *****!" It was a lot of fun to write.

And thank you for wrangling up my escaped consonant. Obviously those marching soldiers frightened it off...


treydog: Thank you dog. Teresa is learning, but that bit of awareness mainly goes to her life as a street urchin, and the arts of stealth that she has learned to remain unseen by both Imperial Watch and thugs alike.

Thank you for wresting with my typos, fixed.


Olen: Thank you. A murder of crows has always been one of my favorite names for a group of animals, along with a conspiracy of ravens.

I had to look up onomatopoeia! As much as I would like to take credit for brilliance, I am afraid it mainly just worked out how it did by accident. Although it is true that I have always liked using the word "clomping" to describe the sound of horses.


Acadian: Thank you paladin. I wanted show in that fight scene that Teresa did not win by pure luck alone, and that in fact chance was as often against her as it was with her.

I am hoping that having Teresa on the sidelines while the main quest plays out will be a nice change from many other Fs that follow the main storyline of Oblivion, and allow us to see it from a different perspective.



* * *

Chapter 8b - The Witch of Lake Trasimene


Teresa did not stop to rest until she reached the top of the ridge. She had expected the ground to slope downward again. But it seemed to go on to the east without rising or falling. At least for as far as she could see. The land did continue to rise to the north however, leading up to a range of mountains far in the distance. It was like standing upon one toe from those lofty peaks.

By then the sun was at its zenith, and Teresa's limbs felt like lead weights. Dropping her sack of loot and backpack, she sat down in the dirt and looked back the way she had come. She could not believe how far she could see. The Heartlands stretched out for miles and miles before her eyes.

Far below and many miles away, the Red Ring Road snaked by from left to right. Beyond that spread the great blue expanse of Lake Rumare. It was bordered by the line of mountains to her right, but it went on forever directly in front of her. On her left she could make out the hazy form of land in the distance. Rising up from the far shore, Teresa imagined she could see a slender, white spire, just barely visible against the line of the horizon. White Gold Tower, Teresa thought, there had never been a time in her life that its graceful white stones had not been there, rising up to kiss the sky overhead.

Digging through her pack, Teresa produced what remained of her provisions. Not much, she thought as she took a bite of the stale bread and tucked it back away. Her stomach growled, wanting more. But she would be out completely soon, unless she found a settlement. She really should have bought more in Sideways, or taken some from Vilverin after all.

Looking around at the plants that surrounded her, the wood elf wondered which ones were safe to eat, and which were poison? She had no idea. If she was going to keep up this foresting thing, she was going to have to learn, she resolved. Either that or she might starve.

Making camp there for the day, Teresa lay down in the shade of a pine tree. She found her armor disintegrating as she stripped it from her frame. The cuirass was a complete ruin, thanks to the necromancer's lightning bolts. So was the leather that covered her arms and upper legs. Only her gloves and boots were untouched. The thick linen tunic she wore beneath was not in very good shape either, its formerly blue cloth now blackened and crisped.

As the forester had feared, her sleep was tortured by images of skeletons, zombies and mutilated bodies. She was thankful when she woke at sunset, and even though she still felt tired, she was quick to pack up her things and continue east.

Besides the food, she should have taken the armor from one of the bandits, Teresa realized as she trudged on, wearing nothing but her blackened tunic and remaining pieces of good leather. Yet the idea of wearing something that had just been on a corpse made her skin crawl. Especially given the flies and other insects that she had seen on them.

She found herself in a thick forest of oak and pine, and had to use her Night Eye goggles in order to see in the gloom beneath their closely-packed branches. At least she found several different types of mushrooms that she knew had alchemical properties on the way. In no time at all they joined the other ingredients in her ever-growing bag.

The ground began to slope upward once more, and Teresa cursed the bag of loot hanging over her back. It was only crystals, money, books, and a few other odds and ends, she thought, the things that were not heavy. Yet after an entire night of trudging, it felt like she was carrying a bag full of stones. All of the armor and weapons of the bandits were still piled up back in Vilverin, she thought, waiting for her to come back for them. How on Nirn was she going to lug all of that to a city, if even this much was so heavy?

She was going to have to learn a Feather spell, the forester thought, or to make potions of it. Either that or buy a mule! She had heard some thieves carried enchanted bags for carrying loot. Maybe she could talk to Methredhel and get one?

She lay down to sleep as the sun rose to start another day. Once more her dreams were tortured by monsters, and the wood elf was glad to wake in the fading light before trudging on with her loot in hand.

It was long after dark when the heavy forest thinned out, revealing an open hilltop before her. Pushing the Night Eye goggles up on her forehead, Teresa looked upon it with her own eyes. She saw a small city of white stone sprawling out from the rise. A ring of walls stood at the base of the hill, with tall, round towers regularly-spaced along its length. Emerald and ivory banners flew from the battlements and spires above, while elves in snow white armor walked beneath them.

A random jumble of buildings rose up the slopes of the hill behind the fortifications. All of white stone, they stretched high into the sky, with gently curved roofs whose tiles fairly glowed in the moonlight. A wide street ran straight from the main gate in front of her to the top of the hill. There she saw a great palace of white stone. Crowning it was a massive statue of an armored elf being lifted into the air by a mighty eagle.

Teresa blinked. Before her stood nothing but broken and toppled stones. There were no walls, and only a scattering of smashed flagstones revealed the wide thoroughfare that she had thought she had seen rising to the crest of the hill. Atop it she did see the remnants of a once-great structure, now only tumbled down blocks of stone. Yet the statue of the elf and eagle did stand at the crown of the ruin, arms and wings broken off and draped in ivy and moss.

What on Nirn was that? Teresa wondered. Had she simply imagined it all?

Just as with Vilverin, she felt a strange desire to set her feet upon the white stones of the ancient road and climb to the remnants of the former palace. This time however, the wood elf's better judgment won out over her curiosity. The last time she had gone into a place like that it had nearly killed her, she thought. Besides, she had still not carted off all the loot from the previous ruin. It would still be here when she was done with that. She could come back afterward to explore it.

With that in mind, the wood elf faded back into the pines and skirted the Ayleid site. If there were more necromancers in there, or worse, she did not want them seeing her. "Better safe than sorry," Simplicia had always told her. Words Teresa had lived by all of her life, until meeting the Emperor at least.

The forester came upon a river beyond the ruin, flowing down from the higher ground in the north and vanishing into the night to the south. It was wide, but not deep, so Teresa had little difficulty crossing. Soon afterward she found another, and wondered if the two might be connected somewhere.

Crossing it as well, she continued on through the night. Even though she could not see them through the screen of trees, she could still hear the waters of the rivers nearby. By the time the sun was rising in the east, she found the ground had begun to slope downward. It was well over the horizon when she broke from the trees and found herself standing upon a jumble of massive rocks.

The bowl of a wide valley spread out beneath her feet, the slopes of its walls blanketed in trees. A waterfall spilled down a series of rocky cliffs to her right, its roar now filling her ears. A second fall cut through the forest beyond that, and their waters combined to form a vast lake in the floor of the valley below.

It stretched on for miles, and it looked like a vast blue potato from where she stood. It narrowed into a river to the south, and she could see its waters went on for perhaps only a mile before plunging to create another waterfall. A second lake formed beneath that, shaped more like a gigantic pear. At its wide southern end the wood elf thought she could make out a road, and tiny clumps that might be settlements spaced out along it.

Teresa eased her bags from her shoulder and sat at the edge of the rocks. She allowed a faint smile to escape her lips as she took in the view. The sun embraced her pale cheeks as her eyes traced the outlines of the lakes, and the roar of the nearby waterfalls blocked out every other sound.

It was so beautiful, she found herself thinking, so wide open, boundless, and filled with green life. In the city she was lucky to see fifty feet before her view was blocked by the grey stone of a wall or insula. Yet here in the mountains she could see for miles upon miles. Farther than she could walk in a day. A world with no beginning or end. There was no place she could not go, nothing she could not see.

Posted by: Olen May 6 2010, 07:36 PM

Lovely description of the land, it really came alive for me and evoked memories of actual places which was brilliant.

I liked this, funny but effective.

The Alyeid ruin coming to life was intreguing... Makes me wonder...

Not sure if this is a (minor) nit or deliberate:
and wondered if it might be a connected to the first somewhere upstream. -- being the stickler for accuricy I am I feel obliged to point out that it's exceptionally rare for a river course to split, of course Teresa probably wouldn't know this... and honestly it's hardly anything.

Anyway great description, I can't wait to see Chedinhall.

Posted by: haute ecole rider May 6 2010, 09:02 PM

Beautiful description of the land. I especially loved the mirage of the Ayleid ruin at the top of the ridge between Lake Rumare and Cheydinhal (yes, I believe I know the one you speak of - impressive place).

A nit or two:

Did you mean a connection? or might be connected to? One other thing, as Olen said, it is rare for watercourses to split - it is more common for them to join, so the connection would be downstream rather than upstream.

Beautiful walk through the forest!

Posted by: Winter Wolf May 7 2010, 08:01 AM

Now this was my sort of chapter. Vivid descriptions, awesome use of imagination, that all really paints the scenery and brings it all to life. Yippeee!!

The Ayleid ruin coming to life was one of your best yet (and that is saying something!). I felt a chill up the spine when it reverted back to its current broken state. That part was epic.

Most of the Oblivion game is exactly this, ferns and trees and lakes and flowers and walking. The turning cycle of the land and world around you. The way you wrote it was beyond awesome!!

Bobg's dragon wouldn't go astray either.

Posted by: D.Foxy May 7 2010, 11:58 AM

Why am I so lucky? Many of the writers I love are rewriting their already brilliant prose, and doing it so well that they now shine with a light that hurts my eyes...


... carry on my Rose!

A rose may be described by any other prose
But this prose is not like any other - it goes
deeper, sweeter, neater and thus it shows
That prose, in any other Rose, would not smell as sweet.

Posted by: Destri Melarg May 8 2010, 10:08 PM

Okay, I have finally caught back up with the TF. Forgive the length of this post but I thought I would give you my comments on each chapter as I read it.

Chapter 7c – Vilverin

I agree with Winter Wolf in that this chapter must have been a difficult write. It isn’t easy to carry a chapter of this size without dialogue or any real character interaction (shooting zombies and skeletons doesn’t really count). I thought you did a good job of keeping it interesting without bogging us down with too much description.

Nits:

Pretty much already addressed, but I did notice this:

Here you have an awkward repetition.

And not really a nit per say, but it seemed odd that given the speed in which she fired the first two arrows at that initial zombie she encountered that it would take her ‘backtracking through several chambers in the process’ of firing off two more.

Chapter 7d – Vilverin

One of the things I like best about the whole expedition into Vilverin is the subtle shift in Teresa’s emotional state. She goes from curiosity at the size and majesty of the ruin, to dread that the fate that met so many inside those murky depths might be one that she is destined to share, and finally to the resolute determination that she will avenge the lives of so many whom she didn’t even know. Those who under different circumstances she would actually be using her bow against. You present each of these states in an organic and believable way that grows naturally from the setting, and by the end of the chapter we want to see Teresa exact vengeance on behalf of a bunch of bandits. That in the end she doesn’t get to is disappointing, but it’s nice to read that Jalbert will be making a return.

Chapter 7e – Vilverin

After her odyssey through Vilverin I really loved this:


De Vermis Mysteriis sounded familiar, though I have never read Bloch’s take on Lovecraft’s creation (that is, if Cthulhu is truly Lovecrafts). Mysteries of the Worm is a perfect title for a tome on necromancy. If memory serves, wasn’t there an old movie in which Christopher Lee (or someone comparable like Vincent Price) plays a vampire called Count Alucard (which is Dracula backwards)?

And borrowing from the Marquis De Sade is an especially nice touch. Especially when, upon first reading the sentence, I thought that The Misfortunes of Virtue was the Imperial Guidebook!

Chapter 8a – The Witch of Lake Trasimene

I am with Acadian on this. It’s nice to follow a character on the periphery of the main quest hearing of events from the rumor mill. I imagine that as time goes on the telling of those events will become more and more exaggerated (as rumors tend to do), but Teresa will have her knowledge of the real people involved to draw upon.

It is also nice to see the Elder Council taking action in the wake of what must be the single greatest crisis that Tamriel has faced since the rise of the Camoran Usurper. One thing (of many) that always bothered me in the game was the lack of activity from the Elder Council with Oblivion Gates opening all around them.

Chapter 8b – The Witch of Lake Trasimene

Ditto for me on the description. Given all that she has been through in the past few chapters, it seems only natural that things might start taking on a dreamlike quality to Teresa’s exhausted eyes. That’s why I didn’t even blink when the Ayleid ruin started to come to life.

On a side note: You decided to go with Lake Trasimene, eh? I think that’s a great idea! Trasimene has a distinctly Elder Scrolls feel to it, and selfishly I’ve always been fascinated by Hannibal. Who knows how history might now be different if the Carthiginians had only given him the support he needed.

Posted by: SubRosa May 8 2010, 11:15 PM

Olen: Thank you. I was inspired to use the potato by Carl Sagan, who along with other astronomers has described the moon Phobos as a looking like a lumpy potato. It seemed like exactly the kind of comparison that would come to Teresa's mind as well.

And thank you for the nits. Fixed.


haute ecole rider: Thank you h.e.r. That ruin is Belda. I have been wrestling with a way for Teresa to know the names of the ruins she finds. One thought is that the name might be at the main door, in same way that we put city names on signs at the limits. Of course it would be written in Ayleidic, which would not help her much...


Winter Wolf: Thank you wolf. I am using this opportunity to rework things to go back and lay in some extra groundwork for future events. In this case with Teresa and the Ayleid ruins, which we will come to fruition in the very distant future.


D.Foxy: Would you like me to send you some of those goggles people wore during the A-Bomb tests to make reading easier...


Destri Melarg: Yaay! My favorite trumpet-playing Redguard historian is back.

I did work very hard on Vilverin, both to create a steadily building mood of tension and horror, but also to make sure Teresa's motivations remained believable. As you noted, she began with simple curiosity (and perhaps some deeper pull which she cannot explain), and was slowly drawn in further and further by the mystery. That she had become the avenger of a group of people who would have gladly killed her was something I found ironic as well. Actually, that was one reason I made an effort to really work on the evidence of Jalbert's horrors. I wanted it to be plain that while the bandits were obviously bad people, they were must minor leaguers compared to him.

The movie you are thinking of is Son of Dracula, starring Lon Chaney. I am more used to Alucard from the anime series Hellsing myself. In the game the letter was written to Captain Aluc Cardius. I decided to be simple and just go straight to the homage.

Cthulhu himself was Lovecrafts, he wrote The Call of Cthulhu, in which everyone's tentacle-faced best friend makes his first appearance in literature. The entire mythos that has been created is another story however. He (Lovecraft) is more the grandfather of it all. It is amazing how many writers have lent their hand to the sub-genre of horror which it comprises.

As usual, I hate coming up with original names. So with the lakes I went to history to provide me some, and at the same time add me some local flavor as well (as will be seen in the next few chapters, when Teresa learns the history of the lakes). Yes, Hannibal is involved. Well, an E.S. version of him at least.

Was Camoran the Usurper when James Cameron tried to take over Hollywood and mandated that every movie must have at least one explosion every five minutes?


All: Next Teresa meets the person whom this chapter is named after, and begins to learn something about her mysterious relationship with ravens.

Also Tsume is not an original name. Can anyone guess where I got it from?


* * *

Chapter 8c - The Witch of Lake Trasimene

The smell of wood smoke came to the Bosmer's nose. Looking down, she found a small cottage. It sat in a clearing at the edge of the first lake, not far from where the nearest waterfall emptied its contents into the wide, blue waters. She could see a garden behind the building, filled with vegetables of all varieties.

Her stomach grumbled at the sight. She had eaten the last of her bread during the night. The promise of another meal was all the incentive the wood elf needed to rise to her feet and gather her things. Whoever lived there would have food, she thought, and she had plenty of septims to pay for it.

She found a pathway leading down not far from the rocks upon which she stood. Following it down the slope of the valley, she imagined that she must be near the cottage when she heard a low growl in the trees nearby.

Stopping instantly, the forester fixed the symbol for her Command Animal power in her mind. Looking about herself, she found the author of the sound easing from the brush to her left. It was a wolf, covered in grey fur that lightened to a softer white under his chest. A long scar ran diagonally across his breastbone, quite old from the look of it. His lips curled up from his clenched jaws, exposing long fangs as he voiced his displeasure at Teresa.

"Hey there fella, it's alright, I'm not going to hurt you," the wood elf said in a soothing tone. "Are you by yourself, or do you have any friends around?" Her eyes moved to and fro. Usually wolves traveled in packs, she knew. She had not seen one alone since her first time in the forest, over a month ago.

The wolf continued to snarl, and slowly approached Teresa. She knelt down on her haunches and looked him in the eye. She did not see or hear any other animals, so she imagined that he must be alone. She hoped so, because her bow stave was unstrung and on her back, and her power only worked on one animal at a time. Not that wolves had ever given her any real trouble in the past…

"I'm Teresa," she continued in the same soft voice. "Now what is your name?"

The wolf stopped his growling, and tilted his head to one side. For a moment the Bosmer wondered if he could understand her. He wagged his tail and opened his mouth to pant for a moment. Leaning back his head, he let out a short howl. A moment later he was trotting up to Teresa and sniffing her hands.

The forester's heart doubled its pace, but she kept still and let the predator get a good whiff of her. She had not even used her Command Animal and he was acting friendly! Careful lest the wolf's mood suddenly change, she slowly took off her gauntlets and stroked her bare fingers through the white fur under his muzzle. The next thing she knew he was licking her cheeks, and Teresa could not stifle a faint smile as she sat on the dirt and petted the wolf.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v90/subrosa_florens/oblivion/Oblivion390.jpg

"Well now, it seems Tsume likes you. That's unusual." Teresa nearly jumped at the woman's voice. Looking up, she found a wood elf standing on the path ahead. She wore a brown bodice edged in green over a white chemise, while a tan skirt covered her legs. Her grey eyes flashed in the morning light, and her hair was a bright shade of auburn. If she had been an Imperial Teresa would have put her age around twenty. Yet her eyes were heavy with years, and Teresa wondered if she might be at least a century in age.

The wolf leapt to his feet and trotted over to the newcomer with a wag in his tail. Walking around her legs and rubbing his shoulder against her skirts, he sat beside the older Bosmer, who let one hand drop to stroke the fur on top of his head.

"Um hello, I'm Teresa." The forester rose to her feet, pulling the gauntlets back on her hands. Then she motioned to the wolf at the other woman's feet. "Is he yours? He's certainly very friendly."

"Tsume? He would sooner eat most people he meets. You must be special indeed." The other wood elf seemed to be appraising Teresa, who had to fight to keep from blushing at the last sentence. "I am Morcant, and I don't own him. Tsume keeps me company is all, when he chooses to."

"So that must be your house I saw from up there." Teresa motioned with one hand to the ridge rising up behind her. "If you have some extra bread, I would be glad to buy it. I have gold."

The auburn-haired woman chuckled for a moment. "I can do better than bread," she murmured. Then she waved Teresa forward and turned back down the path, the wolf walking by her side. Teresa lifted her gear and scampered down the trail behind them. Soon she found herself standing before the same cottage she had seen from above. With carefully-fitted stone walls and a thatch roof, it looked both solid and cozy, with the lake to one side, forest to the other, and garden behind it.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v90/subrosa_florens/oblivion/Oblivion389.jpg

"You certainly picked a beautiful place to stay." The forester breathed as she took in the scene. "I think I could live in a place like this forever."

"That's funny, most people say I'm crazy for living out here by myself." The other woman stepped through the door and into her home. Teresa followed, and found herself in a comfortable abode. Large open windows let in plenty of light and a cool breeze off the lake. The wooden floor was covered in thick carpets, and the walls were hung with tapestries depicting wild animals or intricate knot-work patterns. A pair of rocking chairs sat near a wide hearth built into the far wall, and an iron pot bubbled over its flames. An oven sat next to it, along with a long table. A simple rattan bed was stretched out along the wall to the other side of the hearth, along with a dressing table and wardrobe.

"I think it's wonderful," Teresa said honestly, taking in the small, yet very inviting home around her.

The smell of cinnamon filled Teresa's nostrils. The older wood elf stepped to the table and lifted a plate of rolls laden with white frosting and dusted with darker cinnamon. The forester could see steam rising from them as Morcant held the plate up and motioned for her to try one. Taking it in her hand, Teresa found the roll was sticky in her fingers, yet tasted exquisite as she took her first bite.

"I just took them out of the oven," Morcant said, taking a bite from one herself. "I have a pot of stew on as well. You are welcome to some once it is done."

"Oh that is alright, just the rolls are fine," Teresa said, eyeing the pot in the fireplace. "I don't eat meat anyway."

"I know," the other woman said with a smile, stepping over to the wide iron pot and stirring it with a ladle. "It's all vegetables from my garden, and those I trade with the farmers down by the Blue Road for. Rice, carrots, leeks, red potatoes, onion, and celery. With some flour to thicken the broth, and basil and rosemary for extra flavor."

"You know I don't eat meat?" Teresa said, stepping closer and looking down into the pot herself. "There is a lot of stew there for only one person."

"But it's not for one person is it?" the other woman said as she stepped to a cupboard and began making tea. "I woke up this morning and found a raven sitting in the windowsill, staring right at me. He told me you were coming."

Teresa remembered the raven that had sat down on the dock next to her at Sideways. How she had just known that Martin was safe when it looked at her. Then she recalled all the other times since meeting the Emperor that the ravens and crows had guided her. Leading her to Chorrol, to Weye, and even Vilverin.

"So they talk to you too!" Teresa gasped, her eyes widening in spite of herself.

"They all talk to me dear," the older woman smiled as she handed Teresa a cup of tea. She sat in one of the rocking chairs, and at her gesture Teresa sat in the other. Tsume walked over and lay down at her feet, tucking his head between his forelegs and closing his eyes in contentment. "Raven, Bear, Wolf, Stag, Serpent, Turtle, and all the rest. I'm a Witch after all."

"You're a Witch!" Teresa almost spat the tea from her lips. The wolf, her living alone in the wilderness, now it all made sense to the young wood elf. "But you-"

"But I what?" Morcant smiled over the rim of her cup. Teresa had the distinct impression that the other woman found her discomfort terribly amusing.

"I… I don't know." Teresa muttered. "I guess you just don't look much like a Witch is all."

"What is a Witch supposed to look like?" the other woman asked coyly.

"I… I'm not sure really." the forester replied honestly. "I don't know what a Witch really is, to be truthful. I just hear about them all the time in the bard's tales, and they are usually trouble."

"I'll tell you a secret Teresa," the other woman leaned closer, and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I don't know what a Witch really is either, but everyone calls me that. I guess because I'm not part of the Mages Guild, and would rather be around animals than people. Or maybe it's because I listen to the bones of the world when they speak, and learn my magic from them rather than those pompous hypocrites in the Arcane University."

Teresa felt herself start to relax. So much of that sounded just like herself. Well, at least the part about liking animals. "The bones of the world?" she found herself asking as she took another sip of tea. "Are those gods, like the Nine?"

"Yes, in a way," the other woman explained, then pointed to the black feathers in Teresa's hair. "You should know already, you are obviously on very good terms with some of them."

"You mean the ravens?" the young wood elf wondered aloud, the fingers of one hand running over the feathers adorning her crimson tresses. "Ever since I first stepped in the forest, they have been with me somehow."

"Not the ravens," the other woman corrected. "Raven. He is your spirit-guide. One of them at least. Tell me, do you have dreams about him? Do you ever fly in them? Does he show you things? Do ravens in the waking world ever seem to guide you places? Or warn you about things?"

"Nocturnal yes!" Teresa practically wanted to leap from her seat and hug the other woman. She was not crazy after all, she thought, or imagining things. It was all real! "How come I have never heard about any of this before? No one ever talks about these, what did you call them, spirit-guides?"

"You must have lived with Imperials all your life," the other woman said dryly. "Most round-ears are afraid of everything except the Nine. Bring up the Nirn Spirits, or Daedra, and they would like to stone you. After what the Ayleids did to them, it is no surprise I suppose…"

Posted by: Olen May 9 2010, 12:04 AM

Excellent as ever, a refreshing view on what a witch would be and most likely more historically accurite. There's a heavy spiritual edge to this story which would fit well with with some more modern interpritations of witchcraft. It adds a good amount of depth and substance to the story as well as driving it, I want to know more about Teresa's abilities and how this 'not in game' magic works. It makes sense that there'd be more than just wizardry type magic.

So yes great in developing your version of the world and I'm fascinated to find out more about Morcant (and see more of Teresa) and see where this goes.

I loved that line.

Posted by: ureniashtram May 9 2010, 12:20 AM

I finally caught up with this. And I must say, you are very talented!

Tsume.. Tsu-me... つめ。。 Oh I don't know, in anime perhaps? Because I can only see or hear that name in Japanese. One of my colleague's, a girl of course, nick-name is actually Tsume, so... Anime?

Anyway, this is good stuff and I want to see more. Intrigued...

Posted by: Winter Wolf May 9 2010, 01:55 AM

I sense a real opening up of your personality within this chapter. The beautiful description of witchcraft and the surroundings that flows from was a joy to read. It must give you a tremendous amount of satisfaction to be able to incorprate your love into the story, and rightfully so, the world that you describe sits wonderfully well within the Elder Scrolls. Bravo !!

How awesome to see Teresa's love of wildlife come through here. The way you wrote Tsume was so lovely.

I really like the dream sequences that appear within your writing now. Was this partly inspired by the fun you had with 'Through a Nightmare, Darkly' quest in Bravil?

More, more.

Posted by: D.Foxy May 9 2010, 02:07 AM

*sings*

If you knew Tsume...like I knew Tsu-u-u-me...

:wink:

Posted by: ureniashtram May 9 2010, 03:01 AM

I never thought D.Foxy could sing! Anyway about the Tsume topic.. I found it in site and did NOT like what I saw. Broadcasting that stuff is hazardous to Yourself, lol!

Posted by: haute ecole rider May 9 2010, 05:06 AM

wonderful chapter about meeting the so-called witch.

I have often wondered how many independent women living alone through the ages have been called witches because they are not married, do not depend on a man, support themselves, and above all, think for themselves. When a person chooses to live outside of society's norms, such a person often becomes ostracized, sadly enough.

This makes me want to know more, especially after the last line:

The history buff in me wants to hear more!

Posted by: minque May 9 2010, 11:21 PM

ohh so many chapters to read! I must say your description of Vilverine and the necromancer was....strong! Very vivid indeed, not pleasant but very very thrilling! brrrrr

As I continued through the chapters I found things being a bit more pleasant, the meeting with the so called witch was brilliant...humorous.....

Like this:

Made me smile....

I really appreciate this story and Teresa has become a friend sort of....whom I like to follow through the beautiful landscape (as you describe it)

Thank you for posting here!

Posted by: Destri Melarg May 10 2010, 09:58 AM

I believe so; it went right along with the ‘Michael Bay Moment’ when everyone spontaneously runs in slow motion every ten minutes!

Sorry for the horrible spelling of Camoran, I can only plead that I have recently seen Avatar for the first time and I am still cursing James Cameron for the two hours and forty-two minutes that he usurped from my life.

On to the TF:

My first thought upon reading this chapter is that if one were to live by oneself out in the middle of nowhere it would be nice for one to have a wolf that occasionally chooses to keep one company. Such a wolf would be ideal for keeping other predators and any undesirable people away. With Tsume's blessing I happily followed Teresa into Morcant’s home and contentedly sampled the cinnamon rolls.

Then Morcant started talking about the ravens.

I don’t know why, but for the next few paragraphs all I could think about was the fact that the boiling pot of vegetables might have been left there waiting for some stringy wood elf meat (Bosmer are notorious for cannibalism, after all). Thankfully it seems that I couldn’t be further from the truth. Dare I say that Teresa has found a mentor?

Posted by: SubRosa May 10 2010, 05:31 PM

Olen: Thank you Olen. It is not just Witchcraft I am using as a basis though, but Core-Shamanism in general. My goal here is to develop Teresa into a similar spiritual mindset as you might find in a Native American, Inuit, or Zulu, Native Australian, etc... person.

The line about not knowing what a Witch really is was actually a dig I could not resist taking against Bethesda, who cannot decide what a Witch is in their games, but love to throw the word around. Daggerfall has lots of Witch covens, and they seem to be people who summon and worship Daedra in that game. The Western Reach of High Rock is said to be inhabited by Witchmen because of their magical abilities. Skyrim's Wtiches seem to be people who take men's clothing. In Bloodmoon they have Witches who do not seem to summon Daedra, but are instead there to cure you of lycanthropy. In Oblivion one cures you of vampirism. In those games Daedra summoners and worshipers are not called Witches, otherwise Mankar Camoran and the entire Mythic Dawn would be Witches. Same with all those people camped out at the Daedric shrines. For that matter, the Nerevarine too, being that he/she is essentially an agent of Azura.


ureniashtram: Thank you uren. You are on the right track about Tsume. He is one of the main characters from the anime Wolf's Rain. I am not sure what you are referring to that was so horrible in your searches though. When I googled the name I get a bunch of Wolf's Rain references. Unless you mean the slash fiction, one of those side-effects of having a lot of straight female fans...


Winter Wolf: Thank you Wolf. I have not really gone deeply into the spirituality stuff yet. I have tried to make sure it fits snugly into the ES universe. Hopefully it will fill a gap that was long left empty.

Except for the one where Teresa sees Martin and the others, the dream sequences were entirely taken from my own personal experiences.


D.Foxy: I take it that you know Tsume from the slash...


haute ecole rider: Do not forget women who have sex with whomever they want, and even more shockingly, refuse to have sex with those they do not want.

The history buff in you prompted me to go back and do some rewriting of the next part of the chapter. Otherwise I was just going to gloss over all of that. So once again people's comments do directly influence what I write.


minque: Thank you minque. Teresa is meant to be one of those characters who slowly grows on you, and (hopefully) draws you in as she slowly discovers the world, and her own hidden strengths.


Destri Melarg: You had me laughing with the part about the stew! Thankfully for Teresa, the whole cannibalism thing is something I am not using, at least not for the vast majority of Bosmer. You can indeed dare to say that she has found a mentor instead.

btw. keep your eyes peeled for your appearance in the TF below!


All: This one will run a bit long. Blame h.e.r. for her history lesson!

* * *

Chapter 8d - The Witch of Lake Trasimene


"You mean the whole slavery thing?" Teresa said with a furrowed brow, "but that was a long time ago."

"Not just slavery," the Witch said after taking another sip of tea. "The Ayleids sacrificed them to the Daedric Princes, in return for Daedric soldiers to serve in their armies. If that were not bad enough, they also used human souls to create their great enchantments, then animated the bodies to serve them even in death. All of those great cities of theirs are built upon the bones and devoured souls of millions of humans, Khajiit, and Argonians."

"The Ayleids used their souls?" Teresa asked, trying not to remember what she had seen in the ruin.

"Yes, there is a great deal of magical energy bound up within our souls. The very divinity within us." Morcant said with a sour expression on her face. "That energy can be taken if the soul is destroyed. Death of the body is natural, allowing the spirit to return to the Otherworld and prepare for rebirth. Yet there is no afterlife, no rebirth, nothing, after that."

"That's monstrous!" Teresa blurted out, nearly spitting out her tea.

"Yes, it is." Morcant stared down at her own cup before raising her eyes back to Teresa's. "Because of that, in the end even Nirn itself wanted them dead."

The two of them sat in silence for long moments. What would it be like, to have your soul taken and destroyed? she wondered. How could someone do that to another?

"So did the Ayleids have spirit-guides too then?" she asked. "If they did, now could they do those things?"

"They did, at least at first," Morcant sighed. "But they turned away long before the end. At one time all of our race followed not only what are now called the Nine Divines, but all the Nirn Spirits. The Dunmer stopped when they went to Morrowind. Then the Altmer when they got so self-important that mere spirits of the land, sea, and sky were beneath them. Only we Bosmer still keep the Old Ways, and honor those beings that sacrificed their all to create our world."

"You make it sound like they died?" Teresa said, finishing her tea and looking across the room at the cinnamon rolls on the table. Following her eyes, the Witch rose to her feet and brought the plate over so that Teresa could lift another to her lips.

"They did, in a manner of speaking," Morcant explained. "When Lorkhan persuaded the other gods to create our world, he did not tell them how much it would cost them. Many gave every last bit of their energy, and ceased to be. At least in the way they once were. Instead they literally became this world. The trees, the rocks, the mountains, everything... The wood in the chair you are sitting in, even the air you breathe, is part of those divine spirits. As are you and I."

"But that would make us all gods!" Teresa mumbled through a mouthful of cinnamon.

"Yes, we are all divine, as is the world we live in." Morcant sat back down in the chair across from Teresa. "Now you see why they call me a Witch…"

Teresa nodded. She imagined most Imperials would not like hearing that one bit. All they ever did was go on about how high and mighty the Nine Divines were. Anyone who didn't bow and scrape to them was a heretic in their eyes.

"So what about spirit-guides, like Raven?" she asked. "Are they these spirits, that became the bones of the world then?"

"Now you are catching on," Morcant said. "They are not individual beings anymore. They are the forces of nature. So we cannot physically speak to them as we can the Nine or the Daedric Princes. It is only our Lower Selves that know them, what the Imperials call our unconscious. We know them in dreams - mythic poetry - buried in the divinity that is within us."

Teresa nodded. Now it was all making sense. The strange dreams, the way she had sometimes just known things. Everything, well, almost at least.

"So how come I never met my spirit guide before?" she asked as she licked the last remnant of sticky frosting off her fingers. "It wasn't until a month ago that I started having the dreams, and seeing ravens and crows everywhere."

"Did you ever actually stop and pay attention before?" Morcant asked pointedly. "Or were you too wrapped up your mundane life to notice? It takes two to dance you know."

Teresa felt her cheeks grow warm, and looked down at her empty tea cup. "I guess not," she mumbled. "Sometimes it seems like I was not even alive until a month ago."

"Maybe you were not," Morcant suggested. "We all go through many metaphorical deaths and rebirths as we pass from one phase of life to another, from childhood to adulthood, from student to teacher, and so on. You might find a different spirit-guide coming to you every time you go down a new path. Or you might have the same one all of your life. They may not be the guides that you expected, or wanted, but they are always what you need."

"So tell me about Raven?" Teresa asked. "He leads people places doesn't he, and warns them of danger?"

"Oh yes, you know him well indeed," the other woman said, now rising to her feet and stepping to the hearth. Dipping the ladle into the stew, she lifted it to her lips and took a cautious sip. A smile crested her features, and she swung the pot from the fire and carried it to the table with a pair of thick hand-cloths. Teresa followed, and sat beside the older woman as she spooned out two bowls of the steaming liquid.

"Raven knows the secrets of transformation, of moving from one state to another." The auburn-haired Bosmer explained as she took another sip of the stew. "He is a guide for all those who go through change in their lives, helping them find their way when it seems their entire world has turned upside down."

"Well, that is me alright," Teresa thought out loud as she tried a spoonful of the stew. The stew was hot and tangy, but tasted wonderful as it slid down her throat. "Raven likes the dark too I think."

"Ah yes," the Witch smiled. "You have noticed that. Before the creation of our world, Raven's home was the void, so he travels through the darkness without fear. He is a guide for all who must walk through dark places. As such he carries the souls of the dead from this world to the next, so they can be born anew.

"I guess he doesn't like necromancers much then," Teresa said, remembering the bird that had led her to Vilverin.

"Not at all," the Witch hissed, and for a moment Teresa thought she might spit into her bowl. "Those who corrupt the dead, and enslave their souls, are the enemy to both the living and the dead. They pervert the natural cycle of life and death that sustains our world." The older wood elf stared down at the blackened cloth that covered Teresa's frame, and the forester could see a light dawning in the Witch's eyes. "Is that how your tunic got ruined, a necromancer? I thought you looked strange."

"Yeah," Teresa looked down into her bowl and shuddered in spite of herself. "It was in Vilverin. There was a necromancer, real piece of work. I won't say what he did to the bandits I found there. I don't like to think about it. The fetcher got away too…"

"The bandits?" the other woman asked, one hand falling to take Teresa's arm. "Was one of them a Redguard? A man with a goatee, carrying a Dwemer mace?"

"Ummm, I think so," Teresa remembered the two Redguards he had seen outside of the ruin. As she recalled, the man did have a short beard, and a mace. Had it been Dwemer? It had been dark, but now that she thought about it, it did have that bronze-look to it that all of their artifacts possessed.

"Yes, he was." Teresa answered more confidently now, looking up into the Witch's eyes. Now it was the turn for the other woman's gaze to fall, and her hand fell away. "I'm sorry, did you know him?"

"His name was Destri," she nodded. "He was just here a week ago. He had gotten stonejoint from a rat that bit him. I cured him for that suit of armor there." Teresa followed the other woman's gesture to a pile of leather and hide in the far corner of the room, beyond her bed. "I didn't even need the armor. It's not like I ever wear the stuff. I just liked him."

"I'm sorry," Teresa said quietly, thinking of the Emperor. "I know what it's like to lose someone."

"Well, maybe I'll meet him again in the next lifetime," Morcant sighed. Rising from the table, she walked across the room to where the armor was piled on the floor. Pulling out the cuirass, she held it up and eyed Teresa. "I think it will probably fit you. It was made for Bosmer women after all. What do you think?"

The forester suppressed a faint smile as she put down her spoon and stood up. The last thing she wanted was to look happy when the other woman's friend was dead, even if he was a bandit. Walking across the room, she found that the light brown leather did seem about her size. "It should fit," she breathed. Looking between the ample space in the upper half of the garment, then back down at her own chest, she went on, "it might even be a little roomy. Will you trade me for it? I have gold."

"Gold is not something I really have a need for," the other woman frowned, then looked at the sack of loot Teresa had deposited near the door. "What else do you have in that bag of yours."

"I have some magic crystals you might like," the young wood elf offered as she walked back to the sack and knelt down beside it. Untying the cord that squeezed off its lip, she began to pull out the loot she had found in the Ayleid ruin. Pain lanced through her fingers, and she yanked her hand back with a yelp. A shard of broken glass fell away from her bleeding flesh, and Teresa cursed even as she focused on the symbol of her healing spell.

"I can help with tha-" the Witch offered, stepping to the young woman's side. But the forester waved her off with her good hand. Calling up the magicka within her, she loosed it into the symbol of her spell. A moment later a white light fell around her body, leaving her skin whole once more behind it.

"I see you know a few tricks after all young one," Morcant said with hint of respect.

"Just a little, I'm not a real magician or anything." Teresa replied with a frown, now looking carefully into the sack. She found that the alembic and retort she had taken from Vilverin were both broken, and bits of shattered glass from each were strewn about the inside of the canvas bag. Picking the pieces out carefully and setting them aside, she glanced back up at the Witch. "I guess these do not travel well."

"No they don't," the other woman replied, and Teresa could see that she was restraining a laugh. Then her eyes lit up as the forester withdrew the one crystal that was long and slender at both ends, with the metal lattice around its center. "You have a varla stone!"

"Is that what it's called?" Teresa asked, looking down at the odd crystal. "I know it has magicka in it, but I don't know how you can get it out. I can tell you can just pull it right up from those other ones."

"Yes, those are welkynd stones, anyone can use them to replenish their magicka," the Witch said offhandedly. Reaching out her hand, she lifted the other stone and held it up to the light. "But this is something altogether different. A magician can add the energy within a varla stone to their own when they are enchanting. It can double, or even triple the power of the things they can create."

"So is it destroyed after you use it?" Teresa asked, looking up at the older woman. "I heard that magic stones are like that."

"Oh no, those are magicka gems you are thinking of," the Witch replied. "Those are just regular crystals that you can fill with your own magicka. After they are enchanted first of course. They turn to dust when you pull the magicka back out again later, because they cannot take the strain. The same as with a scroll. These Ayleid stones are made from meteoric glass though, the stuff of the stars themselves. They naturally draw power directly from the sky just as we do ourselves, and never wear out. It just takes a few days for them to build up energy after each use."

"That sounds pretty valuable," Teresa said with an appraising eye. "A lot more than just a suit of armor."

"How about magic armor?" the Witch smiled down at the forester. "Give me the varla stone, and I will use it to enchant that suit for you."

Teresa allowed a faint smile to escape her lips. "Throw in another cinnamon roll and you have a deal."

Posted by: Remko May 10 2010, 05:45 PM

Nice! some things were really familiar. Don't the Sioux or a different Ind- er... Native American tribe believe the Raven to be a spirit guide that leads spirits on to the eternal hunting grounds?

Posted by: haute ecole rider May 10 2010, 06:02 PM

Well done! I loved the history lesson there!

@Remko: the Raven (as well as Coyote and Spider) is a very common motif among many Native American tribes, not just the Plains tribes most people think of when they think of N.A's. In the Southwest, the Spider is honored as the Grandmother who weaves the world from her web-silk. Coyote is the recurring clown, the practical jokester (the Northern European alternative, as I'm sure our lovely Nord minque would tell you, is Loki) among the Plains tribes, the Southwestern tribes, and even down into the natives of Central America. In South America, the jaguar is greatly feared and respected. The Raven (or Crow), being ubiquitous, seems to be common to all of these differing cultures, as I recall.

Back to TF: the food sounds wonderful! I was saddened, however, at the news that Destri did not survive the necromancer. Just from this little exchange, it sounds like he was quite the rapscallion!

Posted by: Destri Melarg May 11 2010, 08:36 AM

In addition to haute's detailed analysis, if you’re interested in knowing more, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Raven_in_mythology is a good place to start.

Now to the TF:

I hope that Morcant is a character that will be hanging around for a while, she is positively fascinating. Her lessons in history and metaphysics carry the ring of truth. Reading her account of Ayleidic magic really brought home how terrible life must have been for the various human, khajiit, and argonian slaves who lived and died under their yoke.

I like your take on the Varla Stone. Making them re-usable is an interesting idea. I hope that the fact that they are re-usable makes them a lot rarer than they are in the game. It wouldn’t do for a character to be walking around with twenty of them.

Like haute I was disappointed that Destri didn’t survive Vilverin. I am honored that you decided to incorporate my name into the TF. When I read that Teresa will now be wearing armor once worn by this bandit (is that a reference to my TES star sign?), well, I am sure you can imagine the not so faint smile that I am having trouble suppressing.

Posted by: D.Foxy May 11 2010, 11:57 AM

If that is what you did to Destri, I pray you may not do worse to me.

You know, it DOES get better the second time around.

Posted by: Olen May 11 2010, 04:58 PM

I second Destri's comments on Morcant. She's a great character, eccentric, knowledgeable, and a good baker: everything a mentor/ wise woman should be.

It did puzzle me that they never break in game, so it's another nice addition to add that bit of depth. Having worked with modern day glassware I can confirm it does break and, on occasion, explode.

I wonder what enchentment she will get...

Posted by: Remko May 12 2010, 10:33 AM

Yeah, I liked that too. The fragility of the Alembic and Calcinator is exactly the reason Rales leaves his at home

Posted by: SubRosa May 12 2010, 05:04 PM

Remko: Looks like h.e.r. and Destri covered all the bases concerning Raven. Something that is also of interest is that the valkyrja were said to wear coats of crows feathers, and were sometimes called krakeit, meaning "crows".


haute ecole rider: Thank you h.e.r. I am thinking that the Ayleids were Tamriel's preeminent necromancers, putting it to far more practical use than any other society ever has. They are also a big reason for necromancy still be reviled, and for why many Imperials are suspicious of magic in general.

Destri was not quite blackguard you were thinking of though, as we will be meeting Morcant's actual b/f in a few posts.


Destri Melarg: I hope you are not too saddened by Destri's death. I needed a name, and you know how I hate to come up with those. Even Morcant is just the Welsh spelling of Morgan. I am hoping that by using a name that readers are familiar with, it will help make the death of the bandits seem a bit more tragic, and reinforce that they were people. However, we will see his son in the future (and already have on the other forum). He did not wear Teresa's new armor though, he just made it. Otherwise it would never fit a stringy wood elf like her!

I did my best to take the ES lore about the Earthbones and use it as the foundation for a core-shamanic religion, and at the same time define what a Witch actually is in ES. It seems to fit together rather well. I am thinking that only the Bosmer of Valenwood still follow it, and even there it is probably coming to be seen as something for backwater hicks, due to the influence of both the Imperials and Altmer.

The varla stones are part of the way I am reimagining magic and especially enchanting working. I always thought it was strange that varla and welkynd stones would be destroyed after one use. How would there be any left after thousands of years? The way I am working it, when a magician enchants an item they create the symbol for the magical effect within the item, then transfer their magicka into it to power it. Basically the same thing they do when casting a spell. This way enchanting is all about the individual's skill and power, not simply pushing dials on an altar. Nor do you have to steal the souls of animals or people and then destroy them to make your magic items (something I always found abhorrent).

A varla stone would simply be an extra battery to use to put more magicka into an enchantment. But I do not see a person being able to use more than one at a time. Since they regenerate their store of magicka on their own, there would not be much need for a person to have more than one. For that matter, they are not really of any use unless you are enchanting.

Actually, I had forgotten all about your TES star sign being the Thief! How appropriate!


D.Foxy: Oh you never know, I might make you a courtesan!


Olen: Thank you Olen. I tried to make Morcant someone you could believe was was a shaman for 60 some years. Someone living on the edge of society, who often does not have much use for people. But being a person herself, does indeed need the company of others from time to time.


* * *

Chapter 8e - The Witch of Lake Trasimene


Teresa spent the rest of the day and night with the Witch, unrolling her bedroll across the woman's floor to sleep upon. Once again her dreams were haunted by the rotting faces of zombies and leering skulls of skeletons.

She woke to Morcant's hand gently touching her shoulder, and given the dark circles under the other elf's eyes, she could see that she was not the only one having trouble sleeping.

"Bad dreams?" the other woman asked as she made tea for the both of them.

"Yes, of Vilverin," Teresa shivered. "I guess I just can't get it out of my head."

"That is good then," Morcant remarked casually as she mixed together the hot drinks, "that you are having nightmares I mean."

"You have a strange idea of good!" Teresa exclaimed as she rose and stretched. She longed for a leisurely soak in the lake. But the smell of the Witch's steaming green tea led her to the table instead.

"When your clothes are stained, you wash them until the dirt finally comes out." Morcant said as she sat down in front of a cup of tea and set another aside for Teresa. "Nightmares are your mind's way of doing the laundry. The more you have the dreams, the more the stain on the memory comes out. Until it is finally gone."

"Well then, do you have any soap I could pour between my ears?" Teresa murmured as she sipped the tea. It was hot and bitter, but not too much of each. Rather just enough to warm her and put a savory taste in her mouth. "The sooner my laundry is done the better…"

After finishing their morning tea and munching on leftover cinnamon rolls, both women went out to the lake to wash. Teresa went exploring the countryside around the lake afterward, while Morcant went to work enchanting her new armor. After spending most of the day in the sun, Teresa came back to the cottage with her face as red as a lobster.

"What happened to you!" the older woman exclaimed upon seeing the crimson-skinned Bosmer.

"The sun," the forester grumbled as she sat at the table and helped herself to one of the few remaining rolls. "My skin's so pale, this always happens. It's one of the reasons I usually sleep during the day."

"Well I can keep that from happening with a simple cream," Morcant said, producing a mortar and pestle made of marble. "Let me show you how to make it. You only need rice bran, then add some jasmine, and a touch of aloe vera."

The Witch mixed it all together into a thick, creamy paste that smelled simply wonderful. Smearing it over Teresa's burned skin, she scraped the remainder into a small jar. "You can make it without the aloe, but I always add it because it is good for the skin. Besides, it reminds me of where I grew up. The jasmine gives it that lovely scent, but it too heals your skin."

"Thank you," Teresa said, feeling a little stunned. Using the cream would certainly be better than having to cast her healing spell all the time when she was out in the sun. "So where did you grow up?"

"The Gold Coast," the Witch said as she cleaned her mortar and pestle and put them away. "Anvil actually. But that was a long time ago. Aloe vera grows all over the county."

"I thought you were from Valenwood, or some other foresty place?" Teresa could not help but to exclaim.

"Oh no, I was born and raised in the city, just like you I suspect." The Witch began chopping carrots for their dinner, and Teresa moved beside her to help. "I was about the same age you are now when I discovered the forest."

"Do you ever miss it, Anvil I mean?" Teresa asked. She found herself thinking of Simplicia. What was the old woman doing now? Probably out begging for coins from the last wave of shoppers in the Market District, the wood elf thought. She had given the woman enough money to last for several weeks, but old habits die hard, and Simplicia was a creature of habit above all else.

"Miss the city? not at all," Morcant said as she started the fire with a burst of flame from her hand. "My mother, sometimes. I still go back to see her. My daughter… Well that's complicated. Do you miss your family?"

"I don't have a family," Teresa replied as she moved on to chopping celery. "Never did. You have a daughter though?"

"Like I said, that's complicated." the other woman replied darkly. She would not speak again as they prepared the meal, and Teresa did not press it further. It was obviously something that the other woman did not want to talk about.

The next morning the two of them sat outside the cottage, looking across the lake as the sun turned its waters a brilliant shade of gold. Neither spoke, but this time not from awkwardness. It was simply a scene too beautiful to break with talking. Only when the sun was high in the sky did either woman speak.

"This is such a lovely place." Teresa breathed. "I could turn into a morning person for this."

The Witch laughed, "the Imperials think it is haunted."

"Because you live here?" the younger elf said with a faint smile and twinkle in her eye.

"Oh hush!" The auburn-haired woman rolled her eyes. "Well, maybe that too…" She rose and walked to the edge of the water, and pointed to the far, southern shore. "This is Lake Trasimene, and that river that flows out of it way over there is the Sanguineto, going down over the falls to Lake Nemi."

Teresa stared at the other woman blankly. "I grew up on the streets," she said as she rose and actually stepped into the water herself. "None of that means anything to me."

"Sprouts, never any sense of history," the older woman sighed. "Sanguineto means 'River of Blood'. Back in the First Age, an Ayleid army led by Handril ambushed an Alessian army twice its size here and annihilated it. The round-ears were marching along the eastern shore of the lake just over there." The Witch pointed to the opposite shore of the lake. "They were heading for Belda, over the ridge behind us. They had no idea that Handril was waiting for them. His army came down from the hills above and trapped them against the water's edge. Fifty thousand Nords and Imperials, all slaughtered. The river ran red with blood for three days, and it's said their spirits still haunt this lake."

"Do they?" Teresa found herself eyeing the water around her suspiciously. Was that something she saw moving under the surface, near her feet?

"Don't be silly!" the other woman stepped into the lake beside Teresa and clapped a hand on her shoulder. "That was a long time ago. Their spirits have long since moved on and been reborn. Many times over by now. It's the goblins across the lake you have to watch for. The Bone Eater tribe lives in a cave over there."

"Do they ever bother you?" Teresa wondered, gazing across the lake. Nothing but peaceful, forested hills rose from the water to greet her eyes. Still, she remembered her encounter with the goblins in the sewers, and shivered in spite of herself.

"They did at first, but not anymore," the Witch said with a smile, walking back to the shore. "Contrary to popular opinion, even goblins learn."

Teresa found no signs of goblins during her day's foraging however. Something she was very thankful for. When she returned to the cottage, she drew her copy of Varieties of Daedra from her sack of loot and began reading. That pulled the Witch's interest away from a copper ring that she was hunched over and brought her to the forester's side.

"You did not strike me as a conjurer," Morcant asked. "You know, there are creatures of this world that can be summoned to aid you instead, such as the wolf and bear."

"Oh I don't know the first thing about summoning," Teresa quickly explained over the pages of the tome. "I found this in Vilverin. Lately everyone has been warning me about Daedra, and with the news about Kvatch… Well, it seems like a good idea to learn whatever I can in case I ever run into one."

"Smart girl," the other woman said, laying a hand on the forester's shoulder. "Learn all you can, it might save your life."

When Morcant later showed Teresa how to bake bread from cornmeal, the forester remarked that she would need to buy some of the Witch's food for the rest of her journey. The older elf looked at her with eyebrows arched.

"There is plenty of food out there," Morcant said nodding at the forest outside the window, "just live off the land."

Feeling a familiar warmth spreading through her cheeks, Teresa stared down at the yellow powder on her fingers. "Where I come from, that means looking through refuse piles for things other people threw away."

"My, you are a green sprout, are you not?" The other woman shook her head. "Tomorrow I will go out with you and show you what plants are safe to eat, and which ones are not."

"You don't have to do that," Teresa mumbled. "You've done enough for me already."

"Nonsense," the older woman retorted. "It will do me good to get out and stretch my legs a bit."

So the next day the two of them traveled around the lakes, Morcant pointing out the berries, leaves, nuts, and roots that were edible. She was even quicker to point out the ones that were not, such as poison ivy and yew. "If the berries are white, take flight," was just the first of many little phrases she had Teresa memorize as they stalked the land.

Posted by: D.Foxy May 12 2010, 05:11 PM

Ewww!!! I had better not annoy you, then!!!

Besides I don't look good in high heels, and bras tickle...

I do remember learning about how to use Aloe Vera as an emergency skin cream...

And as always, a finely crafted post. Kudos to Sub Rosa!!!

Posted by: haute ecole rider May 12 2010, 06:21 PM

Ahh, another wonderful post, with beautiful country, a dark history, and an unquenchable thirst for knowledge. I see Teresa is beginning to understand the phrase knowledge is power.

I had thought the exact same thing when you mentioned Sanguineto - River of Blood. Sanguine is Latin for blood, for those who didn't know. In Spanish it's Sangre, and there is a mountain range in Northern New Mexico near Taos called Sangre de Cristo. There is history behind that name, as well. That's the cool thing about traveling - learning the history of different places, and I think Teresa is discovering the joy of it.

More, please.

Posted by: Olen May 12 2010, 06:32 PM

Good update and more rounding of Morcant, she's a city gal is she? Interesting. And with family, that's a nice touch, usually shamen types have no roots but she has a mother and a daughter. It certainly makes her more interesting.

Still didn't get to find out what enchantment she got...

On the magic side of things I like your take on it, I too wondered how the stones could survive so long if they were destroyed through use, having the varla stone as a sort of reusable selfcharing soul gem is a brilliant idea. You clearly have a clear idea of how it works in the story and I'm interested to see more. I might even steal some of the ideas for the piece I'm working on

The only thing which read a little oddly to me was "She was even quicker to point out the ones that were not, such as poison ivy and yew". I'd always seen Cyrodiil as being old world but that's probably just my bias and it took me a moment to remember what poison ivy is (given that in the context of eating regular ivy is also poisonous). Having said that they do have tomatoes which aren't old world so my point is largly meaningless (I'm sure there was one before I tryed to put it to screen).

Anyway great stuff, as ever.

I'm guessing you know it but if not Tamriel Rebuilt have a reasonable ES (morrowind mainly) based http://www.tamriel-rebuilt.org/?p=modding_data/ngen. I certianly use it.

Posted by: Destri Melarg May 12 2010, 06:41 PM

Once again you amaze me with the way that you can borrow from another source and blend it seamlessly into Tamrielic lore. The account of Handril sounds like it could have occurred during the Alessian revolt. Sanguineto seems to fit the Dark Brotherhood’s version of the word, as opposed to the Daedric Prince who gets off on seeing naked Countesses.

I feel the cool shade of foreshadowing in Morcant’s reluctance to talk about her daughter. Let’s see, Wood elf from Anvil with a great appreciation and affinity for nature. Can it be?

The summoning of wolves and bears fits Teresa’s character like tight leather armor. Please, please, please let Morcant teach her that little trick.

As a side note: We could start a pool, I for one would pay good money to see a courtesan named Foxy sometime in the future!

Posted by: Acadian May 13 2010, 12:30 AM

I just read 8b,c,d,e. This is very, very rich and interesting to read. It is also well spun and crafted. Simply marvelous! I expect Teresa shall be shaman of her own goblin tribe before long!

Posted by: Remko May 14 2010, 11:46 AM

Oh, it was awesome if the witch turns out to be related to Teresa but somehow I think that's too obvious for SubRosa.

Posted by: SubRosa May 14 2010, 06:01 PM

D.Foxy: I use aloe every day on my face, after I wash. It keeps my skin healthy, and looking younger than I really am.


haute ecole rider: Sanguineto is not actually an original name on my part. It is the real life stream that feeds Lake Trasimene in Italy.


Olen: We will learn what Teresa's armor is enchanted with when it is finished, at the end of the chapter. That should be about three more posts.

I have seen that name generator and tried it at one time. But it seems to only have the twenty or so names for each race, as I always find it spitting out the same ones over and over again. So I stopped using it. Instead I usually either look through race pages in the Wiki and look at the names of all the members in Oblivion or Morowind. Then I combine parts of different names to make something new. Or I just do a search on baby name sites for races like Nords and Bretons. The Imperials are easy, as I have a huge list of Roman names from my days of modding Rome Total War. I still hate coming up with names though. I am very picky about the ones I am willing to use.


Destri Melarg: I have always been a firm believer in working smart rather than working hard. Integrating real life history and cultures into ES is just my way of doing that. I first got the idea when I read Harry Turtledove's Misplaced Legion series. He was also prof of Byzantine history, and he actually created a fantasy world based off of the Byzantine Empire, just changing things to suit a sword and sorcery setting. Because he was drawing from an extremely well documented IRL source, he was able to make his fantasy world come alive with incredible detail.

I always have wondered why the Daedric Prince of hedonism is called Sanguine, but I guess names like Hugh Hefner and Larry Flynt were already taken...

You are completely off base with the idea of Alawen being Morcant's daughter though. Her daughter is actually a priestess, but I doubt if Teresa will ever learn much about her, as it is not a subject Morcant likes to bring up.

You are right that the summoning of animals would be right up Teresa's alley. However, even summoning a regular wolf would be far beyond her magical abilities. She would have to stop learning and practicing things like alchemy and fighting and forestry and simply concentrate on learning summoning for a few years before she could do that. Perhaps sometime far in her future she might do that. But probably not for a few decades.

However, that does not mean she could not use scrolls... Or perhaps learn to summon something much weaker, such as a bird perhaps?


Acadian: The Faint Smile Tribe? Goblin Teresa's Cave? Funny you should mention goblins though, as Teresa will be running into some next chapter.


Remko: Afraid not. Morcant is in no way related to Teresa.


* * *

Chapter 8f - The Witch of Lake Trasimene


The sun was lowering on the horizon when they returned to the cottage on the shores of Lake Trasimene. They heard the growling of a wolf before they saw the structure. Teresa drew an arrow from her bag even as the Witch raised her hand to drop the glowing disc of a Shield spell around her frame. So prepared, the two exited the trees and came upon an odd sight.

Tsume was standing in front of the cottage, fangs bared and snarling. Before him was a man, an Imperial by his dark hair and olive skin. He wore a full suit of leather armor, and a strung longbow was in his left hand. An axe was tucked into his belt next to his arrowbag, and a small, round shield sat beside a dagger at his other hip. His right hand was empty however, and he held it with open palm facing the wolf.

"Now just settle down you bag of fleas," the Imperial said in a tone that was soft and gentle, belying the meaning of his words. "I'm just here to see our lady-friend."

"See her you will," Morcant sang out, setting a hand on Teresa arm and gently pushing her bow to the ground. "Just turn around Attius."

Then the Witch was stepping quickly across the open space, and a moment later she was wrapping her arms around the Imperial. Teresa tried not to look, and instead took her time unstringing her bow. When she finally raised her gaze the pair had drawn apart, and she saw that a familiar dragon was emblazoned across the man's cuirass. He was Imperial Legion.

"Can you do something about that beast of yours?" the Imperial muttered, casting a glance at Tsume, who was still growling and baring his teeth. "I swear he is going to attack me one of these days."

"Tsume!" The Witch turned her gaze to the wolf. "You know better than that. Attius is a friend." The wolf did not look convinced, but he did slink away into the trees, pausing once to stare back with a look that could scarcely be darker. If he had not been an animal, Teresa would have sworn that he was jealous.

"Speaking of friends, this is Teresa," the Witch now turned to the young wood elf. The forester could not believe the sparkle that she saw in the older woman's eyes, or the brightness in her smile. It was almost as if the auburn-haired woman was walking on air.

"Evening ma'am," it was the same, respectful greeting that Teresa was coming to expect whenever she met a legionary these days. So different from how they had treated her in the first eighteen years of her life.

"Greetings Attius," Teresa said, forcing a faint smile to her lips as she walked over to the pair. Now she saw that flakes of grey flecked the Imperial's hair, and more than one line etched his weathered features. "So you two know one another?"

For a moment Teresa thought she heard Morcant giggle. No, she decided, the world would come to an end before the older woman would do that. Yet Teresa could not fail to notice how the Witch's arm clung to the Imperial's back, nor how his was firmly planted around her waist.

"In more ways than one," Morcant laughed. Drawing away from the man, she took both of his hands in her own and tugged him toward the cottage. "Come in, we can all have dinner together."

Teresa was fumbling to find an excuse to leave the two of them alone when she noticed that the legionary resisted. Standing his ground, he looked at the older wood elf with a frown.

"I cannot." His sigh was as leaden as the downward cast to his eyes. "I have orders for Bruma. I do not know for how long. I only stopped to say goodbye."

Teresa saw the Witch's expression fall. She could tell it was not simply disappointment in the other woman's eyes. Rather it was an empty look of despair. Her hand gripped tightly enough on the Imperial's arm for Teresa to hear the leather of his armor creak under her fingers.

"Don't go," she hissed, stepping closer to stare in his eyes. "Just don't."

"You know I can't do that." The man reached out a hand to cup her cheek. "I will probably be late as it is. It was only pure chance that I met up with another ranger coming up from the Valus Mountains and found out that we've all been ordered away. That vision you had about bandits being around Lake Poppad was completely off. There was nothing but some goblins and a few Vaermina worshippers."

The young wood elf heard the other woman curse then. A moment later the Witch reached into her skirts and drew forth the same copper ring that Teresa had seen before. Pulling the leather gauntlet from the Imperial's hand, she pushed the band over one of his fingers.

"Wear this," she breathed, "don't take it off!"

"Of course my love," the other man smiled, and a moment later he was leaning down to kiss Morcant. Teresa turned to look away, feeling more uncomfortable than a pickpocket in a watchtower.

The next thing she knew, the Imperial was jogging away into the sunset. Morcant just stood there watching until he disappeared into the woods, her arms wrapped tightly about her frame, as if to ward off a chill. Except of course that it was quite warm. Teresa stepped up beside the Witch and followed her gaze.

"I'm sure he'll be alright," she said in what she hoped was an encouraging tone.

"No he won't," the other woman said darkly, "I've seen it."

"You could be wrong," Teresa said quietly, laying a hand on the older elf's shoulder. "He said himself that your vision about the bandits was wrong."

"There never was a vision about bandits," the other woman sighed, her shoulders falling under Teresa's fingers.

"But then why did…" Teresa's words died on her lips as understanding dawned upon her. The Witch had lied to Attius, so that he would not find out about his new orders. Teresa did not know what to say. So she just stood there with the other woman, and hoped that her simple presence would at least lend some support.

The Witch remained standing there as time dragged by, eyes staring up at the ridge overhead. Eventually Teresa thought she saw the shape of a man outlined against the red sky. He stood there for long moments, as if staring back down into the valley below. Then he turned and vanished over the horizon.

Posted by: haute ecole rider May 14 2010, 06:19 PM

What a beautiful scene between Attius and Morcant! Makes the chick's heart buried somewhere in me go pitter-patter! Bittersweet!

As for names, I feel the same as you. Ugh, coming up with names for new characters has been a real pain!

Posted by: Remko May 14 2010, 07:41 PM

That was heartbreakingly wonderful. I felt for Morcant. Impending doom for her lover... ooohh noes....

Posted by: Olen May 15 2010, 12:08 AM

Morcant continues to become a more intreguing character... a dark section too, I'd even go so far as to say rather nasty. I develops another side to things, I'm interested to see what Teresa does now.

he brightness in her smile. ... walking on air. <snip> His sigh was as leaden as the downward cast ... Witch's expression fall. -- I like the change of word coice and rapid shift in atmosphere as she discovers that he's headed to Bruma. Nice mirroring of earlier phrases, it really developed a grim feel.

I want to know what happens next...

Posted by: Destri Melarg May 15 2010, 12:39 AM

This is an excellent example of ‘playing the subtext’. Morcant’s broken heart is apparent in every line that follows this paragraph, but it isn’t until the end of the chapter that you give us the reason behind it. It is obvious that, as a writer, you understand the importance of what isn’t said.

And that last paragraph was both poignant and beautiful.

Posted by: D.Foxy May 15 2010, 02:40 AM

Beauty sings in every line.

Once again, Kudos.

Posted by: minque May 15 2010, 10:23 PM

Rosie! Pure beauty in this....I'm kinda speechless....mmm but I'm enjoying every word of this magnificent story!

Posted by: SubRosa May 16 2010, 09:16 PM

haute ecole rider: That is pretty much an obligatory scene in nearly every war movie. It was nice to do it done from the opposite point of view than normal. I also felt it was important to show it, as that scene underscores the very personal cost that the Crisis has on the ordinary people of Cyrodiil (I hope!).

My big problems with names are that I am too anal to just take any one at random. It has to be perfect.


Remko: Thank you Remko.


Olen: Thank you Olen. This was meant to both give Morcant more depth, and to build more on the events of the ongoing Oblivion Crisis. We will be seeing much more darkness in this coming post...


Destri Melarg: Morcant can be a difficult character to write, because she keeps her feelings buried deep, and does not like to give away much about herself. So the only way I can reveal her motivations and feelings are by what she does not say, rather than what she does. Good practice for me though.


D.Foxy: Aww shucks...


minque: Thank you minque. I was heavily channeling my estrogen with that scene...


All: The following is the Celtic Cross, probably the most widely used tarot spread today. Because of that it has many variations. I am using the version I learned over twenty years ago, which is not very common these days. So do not be surprised if it looks different from what you may be used to seeing.


* * *

Chapter 8g - The Witch of Lake Trasimene

With that Morcant finally turned away. "Something is coming Teresa," she murmured as she stepped to the cottage. "A dark and terrible fire."

"Maybe that was just Kvatch you saw." Teresa followed the other woman. "There is good news now. There is a new Emperor! The legion is marching to join him."

"Kvatch was just the beginning," the other woman said grimly as she walked inside and sat by the fire. "Things are going to get worse, much worse."

Teresa felt her heart lurch at the other woman's words. She sounded so certain, as if it had already happened. Yet Teresa remembered what she had seen during her flight with the ravens. Julian of Anvil, Jauffre, and Martin Septim. She knew Baurus was somewhere out there as well. So were the legionaries she had met on the road, and the rest of the army. All were coming together to fight this strange menace. Things were changing now, weren't they?

"How can you be so sure?" Teresa asked, sitting down beside the Witch.

"Do you really want to see?" the other woman asked. Her voice sounded tired, as if she had not slept in days. Yet she rose and stepped to her bed. Kneeling down beside it, she drew forth a small chest from underneath the rattan mattress suspended between its pine timbers. A yellow light burst from her fingers as she ran them across the cask, and Teresa heard a lock click open. Raising the lid, the Witch lifted a stack of large cards from within, and turned to look at the young wood elf.

"I will show you, if you like." The older elf moved back to the hearth, and sat on the thick carpet before its crackling flames. Teresa nodded, and sat down across from her. Her heart quickened its pace as she stared at the wide sheets of pasteboard in the other woman's fingers. Their backs were painted with intricate knotwork designs, continuously wrapping around themselves with seemingly no beginning or ending.

The auburn-haired Bosmer closed her eyes and shuffled. When finally she seemed satisfied with her work, she opened her eyes again and set them upon Teresa. Laying the cards down in front of the young wood elf, the Witch spoke in a soft voice. "Cut them, as many times as you like, and think of the question you want answered."

Teresa had seen plenty of fortune-tellers in the Market District. Some used cards like these, others threw rocks or bones, some read palms, and even a few read tea leaves. She had never imagined that any were more than charlatans, always affecting strange accents and wearing outlandish clothing to get attention.

Yet Morcant was entirely different. She was plainly not trying to impress or fascinate Teresa. Her demeanor was no different from a laborer doing his work. Plain, economical, and to the point. Was Morcant the real thing then? Teresa wondered. Well if the Witch was, then she should take it seriously, shouldn't she?

Teresa breathed deep and closed her eyes. What is ahead of me? she wondered.

Reaching out with one hand, she took up the deck and let the cards gently slip through her fingers. Trying not to think about what she was doing, she instead let her intuition tell her when it was time to stop the cards from dropping and set aside the portion she was handling. Doing this, she divided the deck into three smaller stacks, before finally rearranging them all back into one.

Without saying a word, Morcant took the deck back into her hands and peeled off the top-most card, laying it down between the two of them. It pictured a young man wearing a garish outfit, striding headlong toward a cliff. His head was held high and a smile was etched across his face. Plainly he could not see the steep drop right in front of his feet.

"This surrounds you," Morcant now said quietly. "The Fool."

Teresa felt her cheeks grow warm, and looked away from the cards. Was the entire world determined to make her feel like an idiot!

"This is not necessarily a bad card," the other woman explained. "In fact, it often marks the beginning of many great deeds. It is only by forging ahead without flinching at the consequences that one can make a lasting effect upon the world."

The Witch laid another card across the first. This one showed the figure of a man wearing a black cape, his head cast down in defeat. Three overturned cups lay before him, their liquid spread across the ground. Yet behind him stood two more cups, upright and still filled with their precious contents.

"This crosses you," the Witch intoned. Her voice seemed far away, as if she were speaking from across a great distance. "You see only your shortcomings and failures, but not your strengths and accomplishments. No wonder you never smile."

Teresa squirmed as Morcant continued, laying another card on the floor above where the previous two sat. This one showed a man seated upon a throne and wearing a resplendent robe. A crown sat upon his white hair, and his eyes shone like beacons. A great red gem glowed from an amulet upon his chest, and the head of a dragon sat under his opened palm.

"This is above you, the Emperor," Morcant said. For a moment the Witch frowned, then went on. "Usually the cards are not meant to be taken literally. Seeing the Emperor does not necessarily mean the actual Emperor of Tamriel himself. Rather it means a strong figure of authority, a father-figure. Being above you, this man is always on your mind. A guiding star in your life."

Teresa stared at the card laying on the carpet. She knew that this card was indeed meant to be taken literally. Even now she could see the Emperor's face, feel his blue eyes filling her with their warmth. She swallowed hard around the lump that always formed in her throat when she thought of him. You are not going to cry, she told herself. Make him proud of you.

Seemingly oblivious to Teresa's stare, the Witch laid another card on the floor, this one beneath the other three. It showed a man hanging from one ankle. Yet a smile was on his face, and a glow seemed to emanate from his features.

"This is beneath you," the older Bosmer explained as Teresa winced at the sight. "The Hanged Man. This is not a bad card at all. Look closely. He should be miserable where he is, yet he is not troubled at all. In fact he is smiling, and he even has one leg crossed behind the other. He is having no problems at all. This is a card that reveals the ability to face adversity and prevail. No matter how bad things are, you take it all in stride. When you put this with The Fool, it becomes an especially powerful combination. Someone who can walk off a cliff, and still land on their feet."

Now Teresa squirmed again. Was this really supposed to be about her?

The Witch set down another card, this one to the right of the first pair. Now Teresa could see that she was creating a cross around those first two cards. This new card showed a youthful man holding a sword in his hand, eyes looking in the distance.

"This is before you," the Witch said, "The Page of Swords. An apprentice in the art of war, one who strives to learn and overcome. This is you indeed, my young warrior, who battles necromancers with no thought to the consequences."

Now Morcant laid a card to the other side of the first pair, completing the cross. This one showed a pair of ragged and destitute people, one shoeless and the other on crutches. Both were hobbling past the stained glass window of a chapel, which showed five pentacles etched upon its surface.

"This is behind you," the Witch said, "the Five of Coins. You are of the proletariat, the poorest of the poor, with not a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of. Look, you even pass by the warm light of the temple. Even in spirituality have you been destitute."

Teresa nodded, that was certainly her alright. She had never had two coins to rub together for her entire life.

"These cards represent you," the Witch explained, waving a hand over the cards. "They are your basic nature, where you have come from, what you are thinking, and where you are going. Now we will see the outside forces that shape your fate."

Then the Witch quickly laid down four more cards, face down in a long line to the right of the cross formed by the first six. Her hand went to the bottom-most card and flipped it over.

"This aids you," she said, looking down upon the figure of an armored man astride a charging horse. He held a sword aloft in his hand, and his mouth was open in a battle-cry. "The Knight of Swords. This may not be an actual knight mind you. But certainly a military man, a soldier or mercenary. A powerful fighter, who will be at your side when you need him most."

Morcant flipped up the next card, revealing the figure of a man with warped features and a pair of horns growing from his forehead. A huge dog sat at his feet, lost souls dripping from its opened jaws. A naked man and woman flanked the horrific pair, shackled in chains that led to the hand of the horned man.

"The Daedric Prince," the Witch hissed. "This comes unbidden. Normally this card means things such as slavery, or addictions to drugs like skooma. Forces that constrain or pervert the hearts of mortals. Yet I believe we should take this literally. The Daedra are coming, and you cannot escape the effect they will have upon your life. This card has been in every reading I have done for the past two months."

Teresa shivered, staring at the horned figure. "The Daedra did it they say!" The voice of the carter at Urasek echoed in her mind. The words of the guardsman from Chorrol pursued them. "…people disappearing, and legionaries turning up dead on the road, torn to pieces. It's the Daedra they say!"

The Witch turned over the third card in the line. It showed a tower being struck by lightning and bursting into fragments. People fell from the wreckage, plummeting to the ground below with looks of terror etched upon their faces.

"The Tower. This answers your question." The Witch sighed and looked up to Teresa. "I won't lie to you. This is the worst card there is. Absolute calamity, disaster, destruction. A nightmare is waiting for you."

Morcant lowered her gaze to the last card, finally turning it over. It was of a skeletal knight riding a horse with glowing red eyes. Kings and paupers alike lay dead at his feet, and the sun was setting behind the cliffs in the background.

"This ends it, Death," the Witch murmured. Then her voice picked up a bit. "This card is never to be taken literally, not even now. Instead it means an ending. The end of a phase in your life. The end of an era. Nothing will ever be the same again."

Posted by: haute ecole rider May 16 2010, 11:07 PM

And so we come to the end of the Third Era.

This is good - I'm not much for fortune-telling - it's mostly telling folks what they want to hear ("you will meet a tall, dark and handsome stranger --"), but every now and then there's the real thing. Once in the bluest of a blue moon, if you ask me.

This has the ring of the real thing. Well written! Excellent job with the foreshadowing.

Posted by: Jacki Dice May 17 2010, 01:08 AM

Nice use of the tarot cards! It's a great way to foreshadow the story

Posted by: Olen May 17 2010, 09:25 AM

Agreed, it's an interesting technique telling the reader what's going to happen, but one which is most effective in laying hooks and building tension... I suspect there might be more to some of the cards than you've let on too.

You caught the mild discomfort of having fortunes read well, I can't say I go in for it (I'm too firm a believer in causality) but the few times I have had it done I can't say I much like it.

New character promised, most fascinating.

Ending with the tower and death probably isn't the best of omens... I want to know more.

Great stuff.

Posted by: Remko May 17 2010, 10:39 AM

I really liked the laying of cards. Very well written

Posted by: Destri Melarg May 18 2010, 01:30 AM

I think that this chapter could have served as a tutorial for the laying of Tarot cards. I was riveted the entire way . . . as you said in the chapter, ‘plain, economical, and to the point’, much like this comment.

Posted by: Acadian May 19 2010, 05:39 PM

8f - Wonderfully poignant interaction between Morcant and Attius. Perfectly done!

8g - Fascinating view into Morcant's world and abilities. You own passion for this shines through brilliantly!

Posted by: SubRosa May 19 2010, 05:41 PM

haute ecole rider: Yep, tons of foreshadowing. I have been using Chekov's Gun a lot in these last few chapters. I promise it will go off soon!


Jacki Dice: Thank you. I was originally thinking of having Morcant use either bones or gemstones, but I am not personally familiar with the use of either. So in the end I went with Tarot, which I know well enough.


Olen: We have actually met the Knight of Swords already. He had a small part, with only a few lines. But we will see more of him in the future. Those who have read on the Beth forums should be able to guess who he is.


Remko: Thank you Remko. It is one of those cases of writing what you know. It always comes out richer when it is something you are familiar with.


Destri Melarg: There are some things I left out to be simple. The biggest thing was reversed cards. But like you said: plain and to the point. I did not want to confuse people with over-complications.


Acadian: You slipped that in while I was posting! Thank you A.


All: Now for the blessedly final post of chapter 8. This has been one of my longest ever chapters in the TF.

* * *

Chapter 8h - The Witch of Lake Trasimene

That night Teresa dreamed. Not of the undead, or of the Daedra, as she had feared she would. Rather it was Raven that came to her once more. Or was it she that went to him? Did it really matter? There were no great revelations this time. No strange sights. Merely herself and her spirit guide, flying through the darkness.

When she woke, she found that she had left her fears and doubts behind her in her sleep. What would come, would come, she knew. She would face it, as she had always faced whatever life threw at her. This time however, she would not be alone. Somehow, she knew that Raven would always be at her side. No matter what.

She found that Morcant was already awake as well, and the two had a simple breakfast of leftover cornbread and water.

"So how do you enchant things anyway?" Teresa asked through a mouthful of the bread. She knew it tasted good from when she had eaten it the day before. Yet it felt like eating dirt. No matter what she ate, it was always like after she first woke up, she thought glumly. "You don't seem to have any fancy magical tools or anything."

"That is because the only tools you need are in here." The Witch tapped her finger against her forehead, and then her heart. "And in here. It is really not much different from casting a spell. You create a symbol, channel your magicka into it, and will it to take effect."

"If it's that easy, then how come everyone doesn't do it?" Teresa rolled her eyes as she took a sip of water.

"I never said it was easy!" the Witch laughed. "I just said it was like casting a spell. When you get right down to it, all magic works that way. When you are enchanting however, the hard part is forming the symbol within an object rather than in yourself. It must be prepared first of course, otherwise it won't hold the symbol. Then of course you must gently pass magicka into it and bind it there. It takes a great deal of skill in the art of manipulating magic itself, what most mages call Mysticism. Of course the better one is, the more powerful enchantments one can create. Having a varla stone helps too…"

"So how good are you?" Teresa asked with a faint smile. She felt stuffed, even though she had only eaten a few bites, and pushed the rest of the bread away from her.

"Oh you scamp!" the Witch chuckled. Rising to her feet, she walked across the room and lifted the pile of hide and leather from where it sat near her bed. Carrying it back to the table, she set the armor down in front of the forester. "See for yourself. It has been ready since the day before yesterday."

"Why didn't you mention it sooner?" Teresa asked, her fingers running over the enchanted cuirass on top of the pile. "I would have been on my way and left you in peace."

The Witch said nothing, only looked out the window to the west. The same direction that Attius had gone the night before. That is when Teresa realized that the other woman had not wanted her to leave, had not wanted to be alone. The young wood elf felt like slapping her palm against her forehead. Nocturnal! what an oaf she could be, the forester thought, and now she as much as threw it in the other woman's face.

Not knowing what to say, Teresa did the only thing that was left. She put on the armor. She found that it was a lighter shade of brown than her previous suit of leather. The cuirass was made of thick hide, and had an open neckline that plunged deeply into the valley between her breasts, showing them off quite dramatically. Scales of hard leather were sewn onto the outside, falling to her lower ribs. Similarly hard pieces of leather wrapped about her shoulders and upper arms, while more supple hide sheathed her stomach, hips, and legs. A short skirt of scales hung around her hips and fell down in front of her legs, and hard pieces of leather reinforced her knees. Fur-lined boots rose to the middle of her calves, and similar gauntlets covered her hands to half-way down her forearms.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v90/subrosa_florens/oblivion/Oblivion383.jpg

Looking down at herself, Teresa wondered how practical the armor really was. It not only showed off all the curves she never even imagined she had, but it also left quite a bit of skin visible. The open V plunging down her chest most especially so.

"This is armor?" she could not help but to think aloud.

"The bandits love this stuff," Morcant smiled as faintly as Teresa ever did. "They make it themselves. As you can probably tell, this was done by a man. Don't worry though, I have enchanted it with a Fire Shield. It is as strong as legion plate, and will give you some protection from flames as well."

"Really?" Teresa wondered, twisting around to try to get a good look at herself. It was only out of the corner of her eye that she saw the heavy iron skillet in Morcant's hand. Off-balance, she could not escape the blow that crashed directly into her chest.

The forester gritted her teeth for the pain she knew was just an instant away. Yet rather than crumpling to the floor as the pan slammed into her, she found herself just standing there. The heavy implement simply bounced off her chest with a flash of yellow light. She felt it, but it did not hurt a bit. It was more like a playful slap than the heavy blow she had expected.

"See?" the Witch said, putting the skillet down and shaking the fingers that had held it, as if they were numbed by the impact. "When I make something, I do it right!"

"I'm sorry I doubted you," Teresa said. The next thing she knew she had her arms around the older elf and was holding her tightly. "Thank you," she breathed, "not just for the armor, for everything."

"Don't thank me," the Witch grumbled. Yet she made no effort to release herself from Teresa's grip either. "It was just a trade. You gave me a varla stone after all."

When Teresa finally did pull away, the other woman looked her in the eyes. "It's time for you to go my dear," she said quietly. "You have places you need to be. So do I."

Teresa nodded and gathered her things. She noticed that the Witch was doing something similar as well. When she was finally ready the forester stood in the door and looked back into the cottage.

"You're going after Attius," Teresa asked, "aren't you?"

"Whatever would make you think that?" the Witch responded evenly. "I am just tidying things up is all. I've had a messy guest."

Teresa could not restrain the faint smile that slipped from her lips. The Witch was definitely going after him, she thought. He was a lucky man indeed. Not wanting to slow the other woman down, the forester opened the door and made her way outside.

"Wait," Morcant said from inside. Turning, the young Bosmer saw her walking to the doorway, the small tube of a scroll in her hand, tied together by a simple rawhide cord. She handed it to Teresa a moment later. "Take this," she said. "Use it when all seems lost. Do not waste it. The ally it summons will only remain for about ten minutes."

"I don't know what to say." Teresa looked down at the scroll in her fingers. She could feel the magic within it. Hot and powerful, it seemed eager to be released. "Thank you again, you're a good friend Morcant. I'll be back when it's all over."

"You've been a good friend too Teresa," the other woman breathed softly. "More than you imagine. You take care of yourself now."

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v90/subrosa_florens/oblivion/Oblivion382.jpg

Posted by: haute ecole rider May 19 2010, 09:19 PM

Yup, that armor was def designed by a man. Oh well.

Good ending to this chapter. I enjoyed the whole thing!

Posted by: Remko May 20 2010, 10:40 AM

I love how you bring NPC's to life
For a moment I thought Teresa was gonna go after Morcant. I have a dark premanition about the outcome of that expedition.

Posted by: Destri Melarg May 20 2010, 10:02 PM

I find it interesting that, in her exasperation, Teresa does not invoke the name of one of the Nine Divines or a god of the Aldmeri pantheon. She seems more at home taking the name of a Daedric Princess (Nocturnal) in vain. That along with another appearance by Raven (another creature of darkness) makes me wonder if it is a vestige of her upbringing on the Waterfront, or is there something else at play?

This reminds me of The Fellowship of the Ring, when Galadriel gives Frodo the Phial of Galadriel “to be a light when all others fail.”

I hope we are only bidding Morcant ‘farewell’ as opposed to ‘goodbye’.

- As for the armor being designed by a man:

Speaking as a man (and I believe that, in this case, I can speak for most of us), our favorite thing about lingerie is how easy it is to remove! If women are so dead set against the clothing that men design then please, by all means, disrobe and walk around naked. We won’t mind a bit!

Posted by: SubRosa May 21 2010, 04:36 PM

haute ecole rider: Thank you h.e.r. At least it is nowhere near as bad as most of the "armor" mods for female characters.


Remko: Thank you Rem.


Destri Melarg: You are right, it does kind of seem like that scene with Galadriel. Now Morcant will have to be played by Cate Blanchett. Not a bad proposition at all!

Teresa does not have a clue who any of the Aldmeri gods are. She barely knows who any of the Nine are either. She only knows what she hears people talk about in the streets, and from missionaries out to save the souls of of the poor. It is not like she has ever gone to chapel even once in her life. Being a street urchin, Nocturnal is pretty much her deity by default. But Teresa is rather ambivalent about Nocturnal too, the same way the Thieves Guild are. Everyone she knows uses Nocturnal's name in vain, and says "Shadow Hide You/Me". Other than that, she really does not really know or think much about Nocturnal either.

Morcant ought to figure into at least one more chapter in the near future. But beyond that I am not certain.

Since you want to see naked women, let me dig up those nude photos of Rosie O'Donnell and Rosanne Barr and start posting them. I am sure that is what every man wants to see...


* * *

Chapter 9a – On The Road

17th - 26th Midyear, 3E433

Teresa made her way east from Morcant's cottage, her pale features slathered with the Witch's sun cream. The wood elf felt strange traveling in full daylight. Yet she could not deny how much easier it was to pick out plants with alchemical properties in the gloom beneath the thick canopy of tree-tops. She imagined that she would have missed half of them if she had traveled at night, unless she wore her Night Eye goggles of course.

Even more importantly, traveling in the day made finding her meals simple, as she was now living completely off the land. What surprised her was how tasty many of the wild plants were. The sedge reminded her of leeks, and were quite good. Sheep sorrel was very tangy, creating an explosion of flavor on her tongue. Purslane was a bit sour, but otherwise pleasant as well. Other plants, such as chickory, did not do much for her at all. She found herself making mental notes of which ones she would save to use with regular food in the future. She could not wait until Simplicia could taste some of it!

She was making her way up the eastern slopes of the valley when the sound of a crow caught her attention. Its guttural cries came from somewhere ahead of her, and something about it put her on edge. Drawing the bow stave from her back and fishing out a string from the pouch across her chest, she quickly set to readying the weapon.

By the time she was finished stringing the bow, the forester heard footsteps crackling in the leaves upslope from her. Then came harsh, screeching tones that might have been a form of speech. Something about the sound was familiar, as if she had heard it before, yet Teresa could not quite place it.

Scuttling behind the wide trunk of an oak, she crouched down and waited, one eye peering from around its concealing bark. Then she remembered where she had heard the noise. It had been in the sewer beneath the Imperial Prison. Goblins!

Slowly the forester drew an arrow from the at bag her right hip and set it to the nock of her bow. A moment later the authors of the sounds came into view through the trunks of the trees. It was a group of goblins, at least half-a-dozen, if not more. The body of a wild boar was suspended from a long wooden pole hoisted onto the shoulders of several of the short, grey creatures. Most of them carried spears with roughly-chipped flint heads, and wore nothing but simple loincloths of hide. A few had axes of crude iron tucked into their belts and sported grisly armor of leg and arm bones sewn together into vests.

Cacat! the forester cursed inwardly. It was the Bone Eater tribe, just as Morcant had warned her about. Leaning her head back behind the tree, the wood elf remained as still and silent as she could. Shadow hide me, she prayed.

She knew that goblins were not that strong individually. But the last thing she wanted was to get into a fight with so many of them. She knew that they would simply overwhelm her with numbers. Then one of them would get in a lucky blow and it would be all over for her, regardless of her new magical armor.

So Teresa hid, and held her breath as the short, lanky creatures made their way down the sloping ground in front of her. The creatures hauling the boar made frequent grunts as they toiled under the burden. The others talked loudly among themselves in that screeching language of theirs.

Well, at least they were not making any effort to conceal their movements, the wood elf ruminated as the goblins vanished into the trees down the ridge. They had gotten their kill already, so Teresa imagined that they no longer felt the need to be stealthy. If she had encountered them while they were still on the hunt however, it probably would have been another matter entirely.

Thank you Raven, she thought, waiting until at last the forest was silent and still once more. Then she waited a little longer, just in case a straggler came along. When finally she was satisfied that the goblins were long gone, Teresa rose to her feet again and scampered up the hillside in the opposite direction.

* * *

Three days later she came to a crude path of two wagon-wheel ruts worn deeply into the ground, her first sign that she had returned to civilization. Following the track south, she found that the forests of oak and pine had given way to farms and orchards. The wood elf came to the wide pavestones of the Blue Road not long after. By now the mountains not only loomed high to the north, but directly ahead to the east as well.

After passing several small villages, the grey walls of Cheydinhal rose before her eyes. Its many round towers ended in tall, slender peaks, rather than the flat, open-topped battlements that she had seen all around Chorrol's walls. These looked more graceful, she thought as she made her way to the city gates. Yet her archer's eye still picked out numerous slits in the tower walls that would allow one to fire down at the ground below.

As at Chorrol, she found that two men clad in mail and carrying arming swords waited at the gate. They wore dark brown surcoats whose chests were a lighter shade of tan and decorated with the image of numerous green vines wrapping about one another in a regular, geometric pattern. The oval body shields they carried bore a similar knotwork emblem in two shades of green on a brown background.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v90/subrosa_florens/oblivion/Oblivion385.jpg

Teresa fell in behind a farmer and what Teresa took to be his two sons leading a cart laden with huge bundles of hay into the city. The guards waved them through without pausing to examine the cargo. When Teresa came next they looked her up and down with narrowed eyes however, and she found herself wondering how good an idea it was to be wearing armor favored by bandits.

"What brings you to Cheydinhal?" one of the soldiers asked in a somewhat guarded tone. Teresa noted that he had the dark eyes and complexion of an Imperial as he eyed the sack of loot she had slung over her shoulder.

"I have things to sell that I took off some bandits, and the necromancer that killed them." Teresa decided that she might as well try honesty. She was doing enough other new things lately that it seemed worth giving it a go as well. "I've got some potions to brew up and sell too. Is there a good inn I could stay at for the night?"

"Ah one of those foresters are ye?" said the other guard. At the first sound of his voice Teresa knew he was a Breton. They all seemed to have that soft, sing-song quality to their speech. Then she noticed that his eyes were not looking at her own, but rather wandered lower on her leather-clad frame.

"Try the Newlands Lodge, you'd probably fit in there," said the Imperial. At least his eyes remained on her own, Teresa thought as she moved on into the city. Morcant had been right, her armor had definitely been made by a man!

She found that Cheydinhal was much like Chorrol on the inside. The main avenues were of solid cobblestone, giving way to side streets and alleys of hard-packed dirt. Two and even a few three-storied buildings rose up everywhere she looked. With ground floors of carefully mortared stones, their upper reaches were of lighter daub and wattle. All grew to narrow, high-peaked roofs like those of the watchtowers spaced along the outer walls.

The streets were busy with people moving to and fro. Farmers in scruffy flax, artisans in finer linen, and finally patricians in their velvet. Some of the wealthy rode on horses, and many of the peasants led carts laden with hay and other produce of the first harvest. While most were Imperials as she expected, Teresa's eye spotted many ashen-skinned Dunmer among them as well. More than she usually saw in a city. She had heard that Morrowind was over the mountains to the east, and wondered if many had come from there?

Teresa imagined that the crowds were large by local standards, yet to her Imperial City dweller's eye the streets seemed half-empty. Anytime she could walk without nearly bumping into someone else it felt that way. Teresa found that she much preferred this to the stifling throngs of the Market District. At least here there was elbow-room, she thought.

The wood elf saw that the Newlands Lodge was on her left as soon as she entered the city, and made a mental note to stop back later when she was finished making her rounds. Following the main road deeper into the settlement, she came to a narrow river that cut through its center. A covered wooden bridge spanned the waterway directly ahead of her, and the high peak of a chapel rose into the sky beyond. To her left she could see the towers and walls of the castle, and the main road turned to her right to follow the course of the river.

Posted by: haute ecole rider May 21 2010, 05:32 PM

I loved your description of Cheydinhal. It is one of the most fascinating places in the game - it is beautiful to look at, with charming architecture, wonderful willows by the river, and picturesque bridges, yet it has a dark, seedy side to it when you get to know some of the locals. You have the Orum gang doing their best to pick a fight with you, corrupt guardsmen fining people for littering, and a hidden Dark Brotherhood sanctuary. It's this dichotomy that makes the place so fascinating for me. Rich story material here!

I found the difference in the guards' reaction to Teresa's armor interesting. Imperials don't look at our stringy Bosmer because she is a wood elf? But Breton men are less discriminating? Hmm?

If Teresa is uncomfortable with those kinds of stares, may I suggest a cloak? I know there aren't any in Oblivion, but there were some in Morrowind, I believe, so it stands to reason that cloaks exist in Oblivion the way bathtubs and toilets do.

I did see one nit:

May I suggest that worn would be better here.

I'm not a big fan of fiction revolving around young girls/women, as too often they are flighty and too bimbo-ish for my taste, but I really enjoy Teresa. She's got a good head on her shoulders, and is a very quick study. An essential quality if she's going to survive on her own as a forester. You've done well with this, and I'm coming to like this better than the original. Keep it up!

Posted by: Destri Melarg May 21 2010, 07:11 PM

I agree with haute. One of the things I like most about this is the realism you give to the dangers of the forest. From just minding your own business and tasting the edible plants to hiding behind the trunk of a tree while a group of goblins happens by, and all in a manner of seconds. I imagine there must be a visceral thrill to living one’s life in such communion with nature, and you seem to capture it in a way that makes it real to all of us.

Remembering how well you did Through a Nightmare, Darkly on the other board, I can’t help but wonder if Teresa will get involved in a sidequest or two during her stay in Cheydinhal. I would be interested in seeing her take on A Brush with Death, or Corruption and Conscience.

Posted by: minque May 21 2010, 09:49 PM

ohhhh.....I read the last three chapters with great pleasure. Hmmm you really know how to describe a witch...no wonder I'd say but it brings a shiver down my spine. You also have a "way with words", I love it it's as simple as that.

And rest assure I'll follow this beautiful woodie to the bitter end!



Oh....great screenies!

Posted by: Olen May 23 2010, 04:13 PM

I've caught up now and, as ever, I'm loving it. Her leaving Morcant was nicely done and left me wanting to see more fo the witch. It also offered a chance to reflect on how much she has changed, and the development is really huge - great stuff.

I too like your description of Chedynhal which is my favourite city in Oblivion. The differences she noticed between it and Chorro were spot on. You also gave it a better degree of realism with the small villages surrounding it.

Brilliant line.

And haute - compared to the Imperial City Chedynhal is a rural place - of course the blokes are less picky there ;P

Posted by: SubRosa May 23 2010, 06:56 PM

haute ecole rider: Thank you h.e.r. I like the look of Cheydinhal best of all the cities. My only real disappointment is the lack of many good alchemical plants in the nearby area. It is not a good place to start the with an alchemy-minded character, which most of mine are.

I would not judge the two races based on the reactions of only two men. Perhaps that particular Breton has a thing for Wood Nymphs, and maybe that Imperial prefers women with a little more meat on their bones? Or he simply has the professionalism not to openly stare...

A cloak would be a good idea. But it is midsummer in the TF, so she would not think of putting one on, at least yet. I have not had the chance to work in the date anywhere. I might be able to do that later in this chapter however, when Teresa reads a copy of the Black Horse Courier.

Quite right about worn too, fixed.


Destri Melarg: Thank you Dest. I am afraid the end of the world is on a rather tight deadline though, so Teresa will not have time for side-quests in Cheydinhal this time around. However, I am taking the time to lay the foundations for several of them while she is there. Hopefully sometime in the future she will get back and do some of them. (Or perhaps a certain Orisimer raised by two Altmer in the Mages Guild will...)


minque: Thank you minque. I am afraid what Foxy might say about your woodie comment though...


Olen: Thank you Olen. Morcant was a lot of fun to write, so I hope I can do more with her. She brings a great deal of hard-earned maturity to the table.

All the little farming villages are something I am working to emphasize in this chapter. Actually, most of this chapter is about world-building, and showing what life is like outside of the Imp City.

What game designers do not think about is where all the food comes from (well I guess in Oblivion food does not really matter, since people do not need to eat it for sustenance, it is merely an ingredient for Restore Fatigue potions.). Civilization (i.e. living in cities) is only made possible by agriculture. The bigger a city is, the more farms are required to support it. Without an encricling web of wheat and cornfields, and pastures for livestock, everyone in the cities would die in short order. They have a few small farms in the game, but they do not seem even large enough to support the people working them. More like little gardens really.

All: In this next post, Teresa explores Cheydinhal, meets some of its good and bad denizens, and eavesdrops on a conversation about a person whom she will one day come to know very well.

* * *

Chapter 9b – On The Road

A shop with a sign reading Borba's Goods and Stores rose up to her left, just before the bridge. On impulse Teresa turned and made her way inside. The air was cool and only dimly illuminated by light filtering in through the windows. She found all manner of goods arranged on shelves or jutting from barrels within, from shovels and picks, to crockery, to fine clothing of velvet and simple tunics of flax. Even a sword hung from one wall, along with an axe and a suit of heavy orcish armor.

Making her way past the other shoppers, Teresa found an Orisimer behind a counter near the back of the store. She wore an outfit of felt and linen that told Teresa that while she was not rich, neither was she poor. Her hair was bound up tightly behind her head in a long braid that fell down her back. Just as Claudette Perrick from the Gilded Carafe wore her own hair, Teresa thought off-handedly, and many other Breton women.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v90/subrosa_florens/oblivion/Oblivion386.jpg

"Good day stranger," the woman greeted Teresa as the forester set her bag of loot upon the counter. The merchant looked at the canvas sack with a rather unimpressed eye. "You must be new in town. I'm Borba gra-Uzgash, welcome to my store."

"Hello Borba, I'm Teresa," the forester forced a faint smile to her lips as she began drawing the welkynd stones from her pack. "I have some things I took from an Ayleid ruin that I'd like to sell."

"Oh a free adventurer are you?" the other woman said, her dark eyes showing more interest now. "I used to be one myself, back when I was your age. That's where I got the money to open up this shop."

After dickering with the orc over prices, Teresa finally let go of her loot for much less than she had hoped for. She was not sure if it was because the welkynd stones were not worth that much, or simply because her own haggling skills were so poor. She imagined it was the latter. People did not barter much in the Imperial City. Everyone was in such a hurry that there was never time. You laid down your money and got out of the way before the next person ran you over.

The only thing she kept was the book on Daedra, which she had not finished reading. Given the way things were, she planned to keep it even when she was done, although she had no idea where she would put it. It was not like she had a home after all. She would have to leave it with Simplicia, or maybe Methredhel.

Teresa found a smithy just beyond where the road bent at the river, and bought more arrows from the short, squat Imperial woman inside. With steel heads that were slender and leaf-shaped, she knew they would do well against armored opponents, although not as well as the style with the needle-like points did. The woman had tried to sell her much wider ones for hunting, but since the wood elf would never think of shooting a wild animal, she passed on those.

They might have been good against goblins though, she found herself thinking as she set her feet back into the street outside and made her way past the Fighters Guild. With their broad heads, they would be very effective against an unarmored enemy like them. Yet how would she tell them from her other arrows when they were in her bag? she wondered. Even if she had the fletching dyed a different color, she would not be able to tell the difference in the dark, even with her Night Eye goggles on.

A tall orc with a shaven head and dressed in red linen shoved his way past Teresa, even though there was plenty of room in the street around her. The forester immediately felt for her purse, and when she found it was still there, turned to stare at the thug's receding back. She was opening her mouth to call out something rude when a hand clapped on her shoulder and brought her around.

"Best to leave that one alone." Teresa found a dark elf standing before her, wearing the threadbare linen of either a workman or struggling artisan. His short, dark hair was combed back flat over his forehead, and his red eyes betrayed nothing but generosity. "He's one of the Orums. Bad business, mixing it up with them. Things are bad enough these days without making it worse."

"Local gangsters then?" Teresa asked. She realized that her heart was racing, and willed it to slow down as she breathed deeply. "I'm Teresa. I'm new in town. Thanks for the warning."

"Oh think nothing of it," the man said. "I'm Aldos, Aldos Othran. My wife and I make fine footwear. If you need a new pair of boots to go out hiking in the mountains, I'm your man. My shop's just down the road and to the right, past the Mages Guild. Now I'm off to pick up our lunch though."

"Thank you Aldos," Teresa said as the man vanished around the corner.

Continuing along the river, Teresa came to a circular plaza with the statue of a man she did not recognize in its center. She wondered if it might be some ancient leader of the city? Or even one of the Nine Divines? Either way, it completely slipped her mind when her eyes fell upon the familiar eye symbol of the Mages Guild. It was painted onto a sign in front of a towering three story building along the edge of the plaza. Making her way to the guild hall, she found the front door was open and let herself in.

Within she found a wide foyer with a long glass display case across from her. Inside were several welkynd stones, what she imagined were magicka gems, scrolls, and a staff. Tapestries depicting the opened eye of the guild decorated the walls, as did others with what she took for arcane symbols. The room was flanked by gently curving staircases rising to balconies on either side. She could also see chambers set slightly lower than the ground floor next to each, with a handful of steps leading down into them.

Looking at the glowing crystals in the display case, the wood elf had to fight the urge to slap her palm against forehead. She should have sold her loot here! the forester realized, the mages would have probably given her a better price for the magic crystals than Borba!

She heard the sound of voices emanating from one of the side chambers, and still shaking her head at her own foolishness, the forester stepped to the entryway of the room. Within she saw a glass counter filled with potions. The walls were lined with shelves containing more, as well as alchemical gear such as the alembic and retort that had broken in her bag.

A pair of high elves stood within the room. Both had blond hair and the characteristic amber eyes of their race. One was a woman clad in soft green velvet, her hair tied up behind her head in a bun. The man wore his hair swept back in the leonine mane that many elven men seemed to prefer. His frame was draped in red velvet decorated with intricate designs in purple and gold.

"He is miserable there," Teresa heard the woman say. "We never should have sent him to the University!"

"Nonsense, he never said that in his letter," the man replied. He spoke in that tone that most Altmer described as sophisticated, Teresa thought, yet everyone else called snooty. The wood elf saw him point down to a piece of parchment on the counter between the two of them. "Look here, he only says that he is trying his best."

"Oh you have to read between the lines Orintur," the woman went on, clearly sounding distressed. "Ancondil always says that when he hates something, and is only trying because he thinks it will please us. He is just not meant to be a magician as we are."

"He is only a late-bloomer is all," the man - Orintur - retorted. "He just needs the proper environment to build his focus and discipline, and then his abilities will come out. He has too many distractions here. The Arcane University will straighten him out in no time."

Teresa found herself feeling sorry for this Ancondil, whom she imagined was their son, and wondered if she should leave and come back some other time. She was turning back to the entryway when she heard one of the mages clear their throat behind her.

"You have a customer I see, and I really must finish enchanting those scrolls, or I'll never hear the end of it from that bounder Falcar. The world is going to Oblivion and all he cares about is the profit margin!" The man's voice now dripped with venom. Turning back, Teresa saw him brush past her with barely a nod, climbing the stairs beside the chamber to the second floor above.

"Good afternoon, I am Eilonwy," the woman now said, looking expectantly at the forester. Her voice betrayed none of the distress that the wood elf had detected just moments before. If Teresa had not overheard the conversation, she would have never imagined there was anything amiss at all.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v90/subrosa_florens/oblivion/Oblivion388.jpg

Teresa bought some empty potion bottles from the woman, and when she asked about Feather scrolls and potions, the Altmer sold her a copy of Patvir's Guide to Alchemical Ingredients. Within its voluminous pages she learned that she could use flax seeds to create Feather potions.

It would have been much simpler if the other woman had just told her that, the forester thought as she left the hall. But the guild would not have made any money that way, would it? Still, Teresa did not begrudge the book. Like the one on Daedra, she was certain it would come in handy in the future.

Posted by: haute ecole rider May 24 2010, 12:30 AM

Ah, I remember Ancondil!

And did you change Borba's appearance? She looks nothing like the one in my game (stupid Xbox)!

No nits this time, just an enjoyable interlude, and a glimpse of a certain Dunmer before we are introduced to his drunken singing. Cliffracer, flies so hiiiiiiigh . . . This adds a certain note of tragedy to the upcoming quest. I like it!

Posted by: D.Foxy May 24 2010, 06:26 AM

minque: Thank you minque. I am afraid what Foxy might say about your woodie comment though...


I never comment about things I own.

Posted by: haute ecole rider May 24 2010, 05:10 PM

Ah, but you just did!

Posted by: Destri Melarg May 25 2010, 06:21 AM

I laughed when I read this, remembering the appalling number of times that I have made the same mistake as Teresa (and not just in Cheydinhal) and regretting it moments later.

I like the way that you introduce us to Aldos Othran before circumstance turns him into the town drunk. I also like the way that you delineate the characters of Orintur and Eilonwy through their disagreement. We even get some insight into the character of Falcar. And I never figured Ancondil as the son of Orintur and Eilonwy (Although having just written that, didn’t you mention something about that in the original?). I can only assume that he is adopted, unless something has changed.

Posted by: Olen May 25 2010, 01:10 PM

I liked the development of Chedynhal. I agree with the above that seeing Aldos before his brief cameo with the guard adds a great deal more depth to that quest and makes more of him than the throwaway cardboard character in game.

I liked the mage's guild too, seeing a bit more character in them was good. It can't be long before they start complaining about the well water...

True in Tamriel and RL then.

Posted by: SubRosa May 25 2010, 04:22 PM

haute ecole rider: One of the fun things about reediting and adding completely new chapters is adding foreshadowing about many of the characters who we will meet later.

I did change the orcs in my game. I am using the http://www.tesnexus.com/downloads/file.php?id=14417 mod, that changes the meshes used for the orc heads, de-pigging them. In addition to that, I have created my own mod to change the features of most of the NPCs to make them easier on the eyes, as well as add racial characteristics, such as giving Nords only blond or red hair, etc...

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v90/subrosa_florens/oblivion/Oblivion283.jpg


D.Foxy: I am trying not to comment about your woodie...


Destri Melarg: I am hoping that if I do use that quest, the little introduction of Aldos here will give lend some poignancy to his fate (assuming I do not change that). Likewise, with Eilonwy and Orintur, I wanted to give them a teeny bit of depth, especially Eilonwy, who only goes on and on about how wonderful her husband is in the game. The remark about Falcar was not only meant to show a bit about him personally, but also the entire Mages Guild as well. They are there to make money after all.

Ancondil did say he was adopted by high elves in the old Chapter 13 on the Beth forums (when Ancondil has dinner with Teresa). Hence his finely cultured manners, and use of the word "rapscallion!"


Olen: I laughed at your remark about the well water! Ewwww! I am glad you noted Teresa's thoughts on buying the book. It was a little way that I wanted to reinforce that the Mages Guild is first and foremost a business.


* * *

Chapter 9c – On The Road

Her most important chores finished, Teresa took the time to wander through the city for a while. She discovered a small island within the river that cut through the city. Crossing over to it via another of the covered wooden bridges, she found that it was filled with blooming flowers and small cherry trees with twisting boughs. From the banks of the island she could see that the river vanished through a long row of grates in the city wall, and the wood elf imagined it must continue on outside of the city.

After taking some time to admire the flowers and run her fingers across the grey bark of the trees, the wood elf crossed to the other side of the river. There she found more residences and a few shops. It was the chapel that dominated all however, its great steeple rising high into the sky, as if it were trying to scrape against the clouds.

The forester walked past the temple without a second glance and continued on her way through the city. She was struck by the memory of the card reading that Morcant had done for her, and the image of the Five of Pentacles, with the people on it struggling on their way with the stained glass windows of a chapel behind them. The wood elf lifted her eyes up - beyond the grey walls of the city - to the forested slopes of the mountains rising to the north and east. That was her temple, she thought with satisfaction, her holy place.

A crow called out from atop the gatehouse ensconced in the eastern wall of the city. The wood elf could not restrain a faint smile, and found herself waving at the sleek, black bird. The people around her stared in bewilderment, but Teresa did not care. She would never be spiritually destitute again.

In time the wood elf made her way back to the western gate of the city, where the Newlands Lodge waited. Within Teresa found that the publican was a Dunmer named Dervera Romalen. Her hair was a bright auburn and tied up behind her head by a handful of sticks. It was too brilliant to have been natural, Teresa noted, just like her own crimson mane. Yet it was very striking nonetheless, and the wood elf was reminded of Nerussa from the Wawnet Inn as she took in the pleasant view of the other woman's features. Yet unlike the Altmer proprietor, Dervera wore only simple clothing. A cream-colored chemise of worn linen under a dark brown bodice, and a lighter brown skirt trailing to her feet.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v90/subrosa_florens/oblivion/Oblivion387.jpg

Teresa wondered if all innkeepers in Cyrodiil were so attractive as she purchased a room for the night, along with a hot bath. She would have liked Dervera to join her in the latter as she washed away the dust and grime of her journey. How do you ask a woman to do that? she found herself wondering as she soaked in the tiny metal tub behind the common room of the inn. Men seemed to do it all the time. She would have to watch them, the forester resolved, to see how they did it.

Yet when Teresa returned from her bath, basking in that refreshing feeling of being clean once more, she found that her tongue had tied itself into knots as soon as she set her eyes on the attractive dark elf. Rather than make a fool of herself, the forester proceeded to her sparsely furnished room and spent the rest of the day making potions. It was well after dark when her growling stomach told her it was time to venture forth once more for dinner.

She found the common room of the inn was filled with customers by then. Most of them were either dark elves or orcs, and all were simple working people by their plain attire. They drank, ate, and celebrated as all people did in taverns, but the wood elf could see a hint of worry in all of their eyes, and hear a certain edge to their voices.

Teresa knew what they were thinking. What had happened to Kvatch, could happen here as well. It could happen anywhere. She heard a few people say as much, and others speak of a Legion from Morrowind that marched through town the week before. That would have been at the same time she had been with Morcant, she thought. If she had taken the road instead of the forest, she probably would have walked right into them, as she had the other soldiers outside of Vilverin.

Teresa noted the shoemaker Aldos Othran was there with a woman she took to be his wife, given how she was sitting on his lap. He was singing something about cliffracers - if his out-of-tune howls could be called singing - while she guzzled a mug of ale. The people around them had all turned around in their chairs to watch, and some kept time by clapping their hands or stamping their feet on the floor.

At least they looked happy, Teresa thought as she found a place to sit at the end of bar. The wood elf wondered what a cliffracer was? Then she found herself wondering how it would feel to sit in Dervera's lap when the Dunmer woman came by to take her order for dinner. The forester resisted the urge to say what she was thinking, and instead asked for a glass of shein and something without meat for dinner.

Her meal turned out to be a large, round piece of bread, hollowed out and filled with creamy mushroom and broccoli soup. It was quite tasty, and she resolved to find a way to make it for Simplicia when she got back to the Imperial City. She imagined that she might even add some sedge for extra flavor.

After finishing her meal, Teresa sipped the sour, yet smooth shein and watched Dervera as she moved back and forth behind the bar. She was just working up the nerve to say something to the woman when a man wearing the mail armor of the city guard came in, rounded the bar, and put his arms around the publican.

"Guilbert Jemane!" the Dunmer woman cried out in mock indignation. Yet she could not hide her grin. "How dare you! Someone call the guard!"

"The guard is here to serve ma'am!" the man said in that lilting tone of the Bretons. Lifting her up in his arms, he spun her around in a circle before setting her back down again. Then he leaned in to kiss the woman, which brought a round of hoots and cheers from the assembled patrons.

Cheering was the last thing on Teresa's mind as she watched Dervera wrap her arms around the Breton's neck and melt into him. Instead a feeling more sour than the shein dropped into the pit of her stomach. Were the good ones always taken? she wondered. Not that the dark elf would have wanted anything to do with her anyway, the forester imagined darkly. Leaving her half-empty glass on the bar, Teresa made her way back to her room and returned to creating potions.

Posted by: D.Foxy May 25 2010, 04:28 PM

Teresa made her way back to her room and returned to her mortar and pestle.


OH DEAR.

Teresa is romantically frustrated...and therefore she returns to her room, picks up her pestle, pounds it into her mortar...













Sorry my dear....I couldn't resist that at all! Please don't make me a courtesan - or if you must put me in your story, allow me to make out with a courtesan instead!!!

Posted by: haute ecole rider May 25 2010, 05:17 PM

Poor Teresa!

It never crossed my mind that Romalen and Jemane (the sober one) had a thing going! How obtuse can I be??

Anyway, I loved this chapter - a wonderfully reflective time.

That is exactly how I feel - mountains are holy places!

I had the same thought as our vulpine friend - the mortar and pestle!

Posted by: D.Foxy May 25 2010, 05:23 PM

Great minds think lewdly alike.

Posted by: haute ecole rider May 25 2010, 05:26 PM

As always!

Posted by: Olen May 25 2010, 10:54 PM

I'm sure I had something to say about the part beyond it's good but all this discussion of pestling mortars has made me laugh too much to remember. Good part though, it adds a further dimension to her character.

One nit:

The word tasty cannot be applied to broccoli, it is a common misconception that broccoli is a food stuff, it is in fact toxic waste.

Posted by: Verlox May 26 2010, 12:30 AM

Good stuff, Subrosa.

Posted by: Remko May 26 2010, 12:25 PM

Ah, one of my favourite NPC's has made his appearance; Guilbert Jemane (Is he a guard?)

Posted by: Destri Melarg May 26 2010, 05:21 PM

Back to the mortar and pestle! I don’t think it was intentional, but the ending of that chapter left us with more unrequited innuendo than any chapter on any thread on this board that I can remember. Like Olen said; there were other things that I wanted to comment on, but I can’t get the pestling mortar (or is that the mortaring pestle?) out of my mind!

Only one small nit:

I think I found your missing 'of'.

Posted by: Acadian May 26 2010, 07:10 PM

Caught up with 8h, 9a, 9b, 9c. What a pleasure you are to read! I LOVE how you linger over Teresa's observations and thoughts rather than relentlessly pursue some adventure or quest objective. Yes, character driven suits me well. Every wood elf should have an etherial spirit that travels with her. I see Teresa's has already saved her little butt. Oh, and see how nice that pit armor looks on Teresa?

Just wonderful SubRosa!

Posted by: SubRosa May 27 2010, 04:50 PM

D.Foxy: oi!

haute ecole rider: So far as I know Guilbert and Dervera are not lovers in the game. They are in the TF though.


Olen: Broccoli is wonderful! One of my favorites in fact. Especially cream of broccoli soup.


Verlox: Thank you V.


Remko: Guilbert is a guardsman in the TF, not the game though. Actually it is his drunken brother I like best of the two. I love when he hires you "I can besmirch my own good name just fine thank you..."


Destri Melarg: Thank you for wrangling up that wandering of. It is back in the herd where it belongs now.

Given the distraction it was causing, I took out "mortar and pestle" and replaced it with something more generic. I will try to never use those words again.


Acadian: It is true the TF is all about character development, with events being secondary. It is a chick thing, I am sure. I realize that is not to everyone's taste however. I promise that chapter 9 and 10 will be packed with manly killing.


Now, on to the road which this chapter is named for, and some pure world-building stuff.

* * *

Chapter 9d – On The Road

The next morning the sky was filled with grey clouds that matched Teresa's mood as she said goodbye to the Newlands Lodge. After a brief stop at the Mages Guild to sell the potions she had made the night before, she trudged back to the western gate and took her leave of Cheydinhal.

The first drops of rain began to fall as she set her feet to the pavestones of the Blue Road outside. By the time the city walls were out of sight it had picked up to a steady drizzle, and passersby scurried to and fro to get under cover. She ignored them, and the raindrops, as she made her way west down the road. The first of many small farming villages was passing by when it turned to a full downpour, leaving her the road all to herself.

She wondered what it must be like to have someone, as Dervera did? To hold their hand, to feel their arms around you, to kiss their lips… Would she ever know what that was like? the forester wondered as she plodded by fields and pastures along the road. Or would she be forever alone in the wilderness?

So lost in her thoughts, Teresa did not even notice the clumps of lavender and monkshood that occasionally sprang up between the road and cultivated land alongside it. She simply made her way west along the road, taking occasional breaks to stop and rest her feet, and quench her thirst from her water skin.

It rained for days, and Teresa continued along her route feeling as dark and somber as the weather. She had passed through nothing but farmland for most of the first day. There was a village roughly every half-mile along the road, and the fields worked by their denizens filled the spaces between them. By late afternoon the settlements had thinned out to only one a mile, with small patches of wild country tucked between the bands of crops and orchards.

By the end of the second day the villages became even sparser and started showing heavier and heavier defenses. Where she had seen only simple wooden fences surrounding the villages next to Cheydinhal, soon they had turned to durable stockades. After a third day's travel the walls were combined with ditches and dirt embankments, making them miniature fortresses.

The road itself was relatively bare, and the wood elf hardly saw another person on it except for the occasional carriage or wagon, and Imperial legionaries on horses. At least she thought the riders were legion. They did not wear the armor that most soldiers did, but still wore tunics emblazoned with the Imperial dragon and carried arming swords.

She stopped in some of the villages to refill her waterskin from their wells. The inhabitants were nearly all Imperials, and wore a variety of simple clothing from worn flax to threadbare linen. Their skin was tanned a dark bronze, and their bodies wrapped in lean muscle. Most carried a long knife at their hips, and here and there Teresa saw a bow or spear as well.

All gave her hard, appraising stares as she walked through their streets, and again Teresa wondered if it was because of the armor she wore. Did she really look like an outlaw? the forester wondered, or was it just because she was a stranger in general? Still, no one tried to stop her, although here and there people did question her at the wells. The wood elf took it all in stride though. If she were in their shoes, she imagined she might be suspicious as well.

In one settlement she found a small station just inside the main entrance, consisting of a fenced off area with a stable, corral, and what looked like a bunkhouse. A handful of men and women wearing the dragon tunics she had seen on the riders were working within. As she stared, a rider came galloping up from the road outside. As she rode in and came to a halt, another man leaped onto a fresh horse and trotted alongside her. He reached out to take a satchel from the dusty rider, then raced out of the village with it slung across his saddle horn.

They must be some kind of dispatch riders, Teresa imagined as she returned to the road herself and walked on through the rain. She had never imagined that such a system of passing along messages existed. Yet the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. It was nearly a week's journey from Cheydinhal to the shores of Lake Rumare, plus several more days travel to reach the Imperial City beyond that. Yet it would only take a few days to send a message between the cities when passing it between riders in such a manner. One person might even make the ride, changing to a fresh horse at every stop.

She also came across similar Wandrev & Farthir posts at much larger intervals along the road, also situated in the farming communities. She knew the freight and transport company from the Imperial City, where she had seen their offices in both the Market District and Waterfront. These stations were simpler than the Imperial ones, yet still had spacious buildings and large coaches in their corrals. On a whim Teresa went into one, and the Bosmer clerk behind the counter told her that for only ten drakes she could send a letter to the Imperial City, or for twice that she could purchase a seat on the next carriage there. He told her that if she had been in Cheydinhal it would have been twice that, so that she should consider herself lucky for the discount.

Only ten drakes, Teresa thought, resisting the urge to cough. Twice that for the coach ride would have been the same as a night at a fancy place like the Merchant's Inn. She had no desire to spend money on a coach when she could walk just as easily. Yet the idea of sending a letter to Simplicia grabbed hold of her imagination like a slaughterfish and would not let go.

The forester had plenty of money from her potion-making, and knew that she could make it all back selling a Shield potion. Then of course there was all the money she had made from Vilverin. So in spite of the cost, it was without any real hesitation that Teresa parted with her gold and sat down to scratch out a page to the old woman.

Dear Simplicia,

I hope this letter finds you before I get back. They tell me it will be put on the next coach to the City and delivered to Jensine's. I know she likes you, so I am sure she will get it to you as soon as she sees you. You always told me that learning to read and write was important. Did you ever imagine I would be sending you a letter when you taught me how!

I am on the road returning from Cheydinhal. I picked alchemical ingredients all the way from the City Isle to there, and sold a lot of potions from them. I met a very nice magician in the woods by a beautiful waterfall and lake. I wish you could have seen it! I stayed with her for several days while she enchanted a new suit of armor for me. It is a little revealing, but is much stronger than my old leather. She says it is just as good as legion plate, so I will be much safer now! Not that I have ever really needed armor of course.

I met some soldiers on the road who told me that there is a new Emperor named Martin Septim, and that the Hero of Kvatch is at his side. Have they been talking about them in the Imperial City? That is all anyone talks about on the road, and in Cheydinhal. I hope this means things are getting better now. I am sure the new Emperor will set things right.

I am almost out of paper now, and they make me pay for each piece, so I have to make this short. I am on my way back to the City now. I should be there in less than a week. I miss you, and cannot wait to see you again.

Teresa

Posted by: haute ecole rider May 27 2010, 05:21 PM

Yay for the Pony Express!

Wonderful touch on the dispatch riders. I really enjoyed reading this piece. And the letter to Simplicia is a wonderful summary of recent events.

Posted by: Destri Melarg May 28 2010, 09:06 AM

At last we come to the dispatch chapter! I have been waiting for this:

I love the feeling of space that you give to Tamriel in the TF. Your description of the fields that fill the spaces between villages is spot on. It doesn’t matter if Teresa can see the lavender and monkshood along the road, I sure could. The gradual change in the fortifications the farther one ventures from the city is an especially nice touch.

Your description of the dispatch riders and the service that they perform is likewise excellent. I also like how you make the cost of sending a letter price prohibitive for the average person. The only minor consideration that I think you should make is that there should be an armed presence at each station. Given the pains that you took to describe the lengths that people will go to protect themselves far from the cities, I think that Wandrev & Farthir would do the same with their stations scattered in remote areas throughout Cyrodiil. I don’t think you need a sentry in full Legion armor, just something to handle over-curious wildlife and to give the bandits pause.

I agree with haute that the letter at the end was an immensely enjoyable read. I find it interesting that the letter will be delivered to Jensine’s. As head of the Society of Concerned Merchants she seems like a logical choice. I could have also seen you using Velus Hosidius, Publican of the Merchant’s Inn or Venisia Melissaeia at the Office of Imperial Commerce (although having said that, I should take it back. Melissaeia keeps regular business hours and who knows when those ponies will arrive).

Now (and I do realize that this might just be my testosterone talking) can we please, please, please let Teresa shoot something?!

Posted by: Olen May 28 2010, 10:27 AM

That it was and that it did. I agree with Destri that you really have made Cyrodiil a realistically proportioned place, it's not just the time taken travelling but the whole systems that you build up with little villages getting steadily more defended and a courier system which brings the place to life with it's accuricy. It also strikes me a subtle poke at the fact that everyone in Cyrodiil knowns whats happening everywhere instantly.

Though saying that I suppose mages have means of communication (though somehow I doubt they'd be affordable).


Awww... but unintended innuendo is the best kind.

And my testosterone seconds Destri's, can we have her shoot something, at at least hit it with a stone. Please

Posted by: SubRosa May 29 2010, 05:12 PM

haute ecole rider: I guess my having watched The Young Riders shows...

The letter to Simplicia is one of the things I have been working at during these re-writes and new chapters. In the originals I was never really satisfied with the job I did of portraying Teresa's bond with Simplicia. So now I have been trying to put in little bits here and there of Teresa thinking of her as she goes about her travels, to show that her foster mother is never forgotten.


Destri Melarg: I had thought about the villages having armed guards when I first wrote the piece, then decided against it. I do not think simple farming folk would be able to afford something like that. However, I did go back and add in a few paragraphs describing the peasants themselves. Just as every self-respecting good 'ole boy today has a rifle rack in the back of his truck, I emphasized that Cyrodiilic farmers are likewise armed as well, with everyone carrying at least a knife at all times. There was no way to show it, but they would all have at least a spear and shield at home, and most likely a wood axe that would work just as well on goblins as it does on trees. The Wandrev and Farthir stations, being in the settlements, would simply rely on the locals for protection. Their coaches would naturally have armed drivers and an armed person riding shotgun (riding javelin?).

The main reason I went with Jensine was that she is a prominent local merchant in the IC. But perhaps even more importantly, she is someone we will be seeing more of in the TF.

Your testosterone should like the ending of this chapter.


Olen: Thank you Olen. In Morrowind (the game I mean, not the province) there seems to be a whole slew of ways to teleport all over the place. I noticed they dropped that in Oblivion, which I rather prefer. I think I like it better where you have to walk, ride, or sail to get where you want to go. It makes the world seem that much larger.

I promise your testosterone that the next two chapters will be abattoirs!


All: Now the final installment of chapter 9, where Teresa nearly gets back to the Imperial City. But something comes up while she crosses Lake Rumare. The ferry I depicted is a real life boat from the early 1800s, see more http://www.shipwreckworld.com/articles/horse-powered-ferry-boat-discovered-in-lake-champlain about this amazing contraption.


* * *

Chapter 9e – On The Road

The rain finally stopped when the forester reached Lake Nemi. She found her gaze traveling to the waterfall spilling into its far end, crashing down from the highlands to the north. It was miles away, yet high enough that it was still plain to see even from the road. Thinking back to when she had first set eyes upon the twin lakes from the heights above Morcant's cottage, she realized that she was standing in that same hazy line that she had imagined might be the road and settlements.

Those settlements had became more numerous as well, not only along the road but clustering around the shores of the lake. The soil must be good here, the forester imagined. Or maybe it was the extra water? or Fort Urasek being not too far away? She really had no idea. It was not like she had a clue how farming worked. She had never even seen a farm until she had left the Imperial City with the Amulet of Kings a month and a half before.

She discovered that a narrow river flowed south from Lake Nemi when the Blue Road rose over it on a stone bridge. Following its meandering waters with her gaze, Teresa found that it vanished into a series of rolling hills that looked all wild to her. One day, she thought, she was going to have to go exploring to see what was down there.

Yet she had other things to do, and Simplicia was waiting for her at the end of her journey. First there was Vilverin. The armor and weapons of the bandits were still waiting there for her. Assuming someone else had not come along and taken them. Teresa briefly thought about going north around the lakes, and retracing her steps to the ruin. But she had already been that way. She had never been down the road, so she took it all the way to Fort Urasek instead.

With the denser population, or perhaps merely the better weather, she found herself passing more people on the road again as she made her way west. There were carters with wagons loaded down with goods, farmers either alone or in groups, Wandrev and Farthir coaches traveling in either direction, and the occasional legion rider as before.

Even a Black Horse courier came galloping past at one point, throwing Teresa a broadsheet that proclaimed an heir had been found, Martin Septim, and that he was at some place called Cloud Ruler Temple. Teresa wondered if that was anywhere near Bruma as she read on. But it contained little that she did not already know. It did add that Legions from Morrowind and Skyrim were marching to join the new Emperor, in addition to the Legion from Cyrodiil.

Reading the news made her eyes glance more and more to the north however, and a gnawing sense of dread began to creep into her stomach. Images of the card reading Morcant had done floated up in her memory. The Tower, The Daedric Prince, Death. The Witch had said a dark and terrible fire was coming. Was she headed right into it?

After a few days the Blue Road ended at Urasek. She found herself at the same road sign outside of the fort that she had passed in the moonlight. Had that been just a few weeks before? she wondered, it seemed like ages ago now. Turning to the north, she trudged along the Red Ring Road to Vilverin, her mind swirling with images from the book on Daedra.

The Ayleid ruin looked completely different in the sunlight. It seemed smaller, less mysterious and ominous then it had under the twin lights of Masser and Secunda. Yet perhaps that was simply due to the fact that now she knew every nook and cranny of the ruin, where the first time she had come to it she had no idea what to expect.

The well of magicka still rose to greet the sky, and once more Teresa reached within to draw forth as much of the energy as she could. "Never look a gift horse in the mouth," Simplicia had always said, and there was no telling if she might need it in the halls and chambers below her feet.

Moving quietly, with her bow strung and an arrow ready just in case, Teresa ventured below. Yet she found that the ruin was still as quiet and empty as the tomb it had now become. The gear of the bandits was still piled up where they had made their main camp in the ruin, and she packed it all away into several canvas sacks. Then she pulled out her mortar and pestle and brewed up a handful of Feather potions as Patvir's Guide instructed. Drinking one, she found herself feeling just as light as the potion's namesake, and hoisted the loot over her shoulders.

Climbing back up to the light of the sun, the wood elf stared across the lake. In the far distance she could dimly make out the shore of the City Isle. The sewer exit was somewhere over there, she thought. Part of her wanted to swim across to find it. Yet even with her Feather potions, she did not think swimming the expanse of the lake with the sacks of loot in tow was a good idea. It was just too many miles of water, and she did not know if the Jewel of the Rumare would keep everything within the bags safe as it did her armor and the other things she wore directly on her person.

With that in mind, Teresa instead set her feet back to the Red Ring Road and headed south. Every step she took gave her the feeling that she was approaching something, yet what it was she could not tell. Was she going to encounter Daedra on the road? she wondered, or in one of the villages or towns along the way to the Imperial City? That thought gnawed at her mood like a termite, and the farther she went, the more and more her eyes cast suspiciously about her on the road.

Yet a day later she was back in Urasek with nothing remarkable happening on the way. The town was larger than she had imagined when she had passed it in the night, stretching all the way from the stone walls of the fort to the shores of the lake. Like Sideways, it was bustling with carters and other travelers, mixed in with local farmers and fishermen.

Making her way to the docks, she found that most of the slips were empty. She did find one ferry still remaining however, and joined a line of other people boarding its wooden deck. Parting with more of her septims, she found a spot near a horse at one side of the vessel and sat down.

The boat had a wide hull, with a tall wheel of paddles rising up along either side, similar to those on a watermill. In front of each paddle was a horse, standing underneath an awning that protected it from the elements. Each wore the same kind of harness for pulling a wagon, yet in this case the yokes were fastened to iron bars built into the ship. Teresa noticed that the wooden deck had been cut out from under the horse's hooves, and instead the mighty animals stood upon some sort of platform underneath that was cut with regular grooves from side to side.

When finally the ferry was loaded with people and wagons, the crew cast off from the dock and set the horses into motion. Teresa found that even though they walked forward, they did not move from the places where they stood. That is when she noticed that their hooves were in fact pushing the grooved platform beneath them, turning it in a circle. It must be a wide, flat disc, she reasoned, and somehow its turning made the paddles to either side of the boat rise and fall, pushing the boat through the water.

Teresa stared in amazement. Horses were indeed pulling the boat as it set off into the placid waters of Lake Rumare. What surprised her even more was that they did not seem overly taxed by the effort. In fact, it seemed no more difficult for them than pulling a regular wagon.

Rising to her feet, the wood elf stepped closer to the small stall in which one horse stood. Its massive frame towered over her, and the strong musk of the animal filled her nostrils. She had to suppress the urge to reach out and touch the coal black hide of the animal. Instead she simply stared in wonder as the muscles of its shoulders bunched and flexed with every step. Now she noticed that he was not entirely black, but rather bore a small spot of white above his eyes, barely visible through the hair of his mane.

"What kind of horse is this?" She turned her gaze to the tiger-striped Khajiit that stood beside the horse, one hand on its harness.

"Oh, this is a Percheron," the feline said, turning from the horse to Teresa. "He's come all the way from High Rock to pull our ferry."

"He's beautiful," Teresa marveled, her eyes returning to the great beast.

"Aye, that's his name too, Beauty!" The Khajiit said with a grin that exposed his long fangs. "There's not a finer horse on the lake than this one! Go ahead and pet him if you like, he likes people."

Teresa could not restrain a faint smile as she reached out a pale hand to the glistening black flank of the horse. His short hair smooth as silk beneath her fingers, and his skin warm to the touch. She could feel bands of muscle the size of her entire body flexing under her hand as she gently slid it across his shoulder. Just one of its legs must weigh more than she did! she marveled. He was magnificent!

Her vision began to dim, and the sounds of the ferry faded into the distance. Teresa stepped back from the horse, seeing the world in a narrow tunnel rimmed in darkness. Within moments even that faded to black, and the feeling of the hard deck vanished from beneath her feet.

* * *

She was weightless, floating. No, flying, the wood elf realized, now feeling the wind rushing by under her wings. Opening her beak, a long, guttural caw issued from her throat to greet the green fields of heather far below her. It was another of the dream-flights, Teresa thought, except that she had not been asleep this time.

To her left rose the high stone walls of a city on the edge of the mountains. Arrayed on the plain outside of it was a host the size of which Teresa had never seen. Clad in steel and marching under dragon banners, the line of the army stretched for nearly a mile from side to side as it resolutely advanced across the fields to the east.

Waiting there for them was a nightmare, a horde of monsters that walked on both two legs and four, the fires of Oblivion rising up behind them. First came infernal beasts armed with jagged teeth and gleaming claws. Then came even formations of creatures that could have been men, but for their rust-colored skin and the horns that curled up from their foreheads. Marching under standards of bones and flayed skin, they carried weapons that made the forester's eyes feel like bleeding just to look upon them.

The jaws of Oblivion had opened wide.

Posted by: D.Foxy May 29 2010, 05:32 PM

Whoa!



Teresa pet the horse...and then she's transported to a battle?

I know Pecherons are powerful, but I didn't know they were THAT powerful!

Or did I miss something???

Posted by: haute ecole rider May 29 2010, 07:24 PM

wonderful description of the ferry's mechanics. I loved it!

Percherons are usually grey, black is quite uncommon, but I digress. It's your fiction, it can be anything you want! However, their coats are smooth to the touch, more silky than coarse. It's the manes and tails that are coarse and wiry to the hand. Even in the winter, when they're shaggy, their coats are still fine and smooth to the touch. Quite pleasant, really. The closest I can compare is that of a Greyhound dog or a smooth-coated Pointer.

And now we approach the real Oblivion Crisis!

Posted by: Destri Melarg May 30 2010, 10:54 PM

A number of things stood out to me in this chapter. Here are a few:

-The overall sense of foreboding that Teresa feels pervades the whole chapter, thanks to the small hooks that you sink into us throughout (the ominous card reading, suspicious glances down the road, etc.).

-Typical of the Black Horse Courier! Why not tell everyone (including the Mythic Dawn) the name and the whereabouts of the only man in Tamriel who can re-ignite the Dragonfires and stop Lord Dagon’s invasion!

-Once again Teresa shows her ingenuity in the brewing and use of the feather potion inside Vilverin.

-The description of the ferry was great, as was the description of the Percheron in the stall. Then we have Teresa’s dream-flight (or is it an OBE?). From your description and the movement of the army as you have established over the last few chapters, I would say that she is witnessing the beginning of the battle of Bruma. Interesting.

A couple of typos that I spotted:

Posted by: SubRosa May 31 2010, 04:58 AM

D.Foxy: It is another one of her visions, only this one happened while she was awake. I went back and edited it a bit to try to make that more clear.


haute ecole rider: Thank you h.e.r. I was amazed when I stumbled upon that ferryboat, and just knew I had to use it. I think it works well as something the Dwemer would have designed.

I know most Percherons are not black, but I have seen enough pictures of those that are to make him that color. Actually he was going to be grey to begin with. But I could not resist changing it to black after I wrote that his name was Beauty (and I am surprised that you did not catch that equine homage!)


Destri Melarg: I am glad that sense of foreboding shows through. I went back on purpose to make sure it was there, gnawing away at Teresa's guts.

Funny you mention that about the BHC. I just finished watching Ken Burns' Civil War yesterday, and General Sherman considered reporters to be no better than traitors because they always did exactly what you said!

As you correctly deduced, that is the Battle of Bruma that Teresa saw opening.



All: I only finished writing the first draft of chapter 10 a few minutes ago. So it will still be a while before I can get the next four or so drafts done and start posting. At 15.5k words, it is my largest chapter ever. Hopefully toward the end of the week I will be able to start getting it up. As I promised, it will have lots of manly killing, with most of it told from the pov of our favorite Fighters Guild chapter head http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v90/subrosa_florens/oblivion/Pappy01.jpg

Posted by: D.Foxy May 31 2010, 06:58 AM

With a WOO and a HOO and HELL and a YEAH
We now alight for parts unknown n' have fun getting THEAH!
With a TEE and a HEE and a Leap and a HOWL
We'll be entertained by fair means or by Foul!!

Posted by: Remko May 31 2010, 10:57 AM

True; his brother is the funny one. "Ooh, I am sorry, didn't know that was your sheep."

Posted by: haute ecole rider May 31 2010, 02:21 PM

Oh , I did notice the Black Beauty homage! It just escaped my comment - my bad!

Still, black Percherons are more impressive than the grey ones, if you ask me! And they are so sweet (when they're not stepping on your toe)!

And yes, I am so glad you discovered that ferry! Horsepower (and mules) have been used on boats way before the first steam engine was invented! The thresher that George Washington developed at Mount Vernon (and recently reconstructed, we saw it two years ago) was an ingenious use of natural horsepower, too.

Posted by: Acadian Jun 2 2010, 03:26 PM

Teresa's world is very big! The need for horses and coaches and pony and express and ferries is quite apparent!

As always, it is wonderful hearing Teresa's internal dialogue. I like the raven!

Posted by: SubRosa Jun 2 2010, 03:36 PM

Oops, don't mind me, I was just testing what swear words are filtered and accidentally hit the post button instead of the preview.

For anyone who is interested, the following words work:

damn
balls
crap
bugger

Posted by: D.Foxy Jun 2 2010, 03:58 PM

But, my dear, I SWEAR I don't see any bad words in your prose!!!

Posted by: Olen Jun 2 2010, 05:43 PM

Great chapter, you really developed the world in chapter 9, it has a strong feel to it, both like the game one but changed to make more sense and seem more alive and breathing. Where the game world feels like a diorama yours feels like it's moving and things are happening off stage all the time. It also feels BIG. I like the spin you put on it... in fact I might even steal some of the basic changes...

The ferry was great, kudos for finding and including that

And now a premonition (I think anyway unless we're already at the battle of Bruma), that is most unexpected... perhaps she's a more powerful witch (for want of a better word) than she knows...

Goood stuff foreshadowing chapter ten, I can't wait for the action to start.

Posted by: SubRosa Jun 2 2010, 08:46 PM

D.Foxy: I added some swear words!


Remko: "You're someone else. Apologies, my good friend. I mistook you for someone else."


haute ecole rider: I actually prefer dappled grey horses best. And paints. Although a big black horse always looks good, like Friesians.


Acadian: Thank you A.


Olen: You are indeed correct about Teresa's latent magical powers. While she does not know who her parents are, I do. There is a lot of magical power in her family. It is the reason for her being so good at alchemy, in spite of having no formal training. In time I can see her becoming a Witch much like Morcant is. However, that would be far beyond the scope of the current arc of stories I am doing about her. Perhaps in the future I might do a fifty years ahead arc?


All: Now what all you guys have been waiting for. The Battle of Bruma. Like everything else in the TF, it will be far larger in scope than it is in the game. The new edited version tops 16k words, so it will probably take a few weeks to get the entire chapter posted.

* * *

Chapter 10a - The Battle Of Bruma

26th Midyear, 3E433

On raven wings, Teresa flew through the sky. Beneath her, she saw forested hills that rose to a steep escarpment which ran from east to west. Beyond was a plateau that stretched on for miles before rising once more to a line of snow-capped peaks far in the distance. To the west, the plateau was strewn with jagged outcroppings of rock and dotted with fir trees. To the east it smoothed out to gentle fields of wheat and grassy pastures, also interspersed with many small islands of evergreens.

A wide road of solid pavestones meandered through the hills from the south and rose up to the plateau before continuing on to the mountains in the north. An avenue of the same, heavy stones branched off from it and ran to the west for several miles, until finally ending at the gates of a large city.

The grey stone walls of the settlement rose from the edge of the escarpment, where the open fields of the east turned to rocky badlands in the west. A creek flowed from the mountains and wandered past the western walls of the city, tumbling down the steep cliffs to the southern hills in a cascade of white foam. Sturdy buildings of stone and heavy timbers filled the great settlement, and Teresa's beady, raven's eyes passed over the high spire of a chapel rising from a great square near the main gate. Within it she saw the statue of a man she recognized. Tiber Septim, the first of the Septim line, now the god Talos.

Winging from the city to the rolling fields in the east, Teresa saw arrayed there before the walls was an army of tens of thousands, stretching out for well over a mile. The golden heads of their dragon-standards glittered in the sun, and the silk wind-socks of their tails billowed out in the cool wind gusting from the mountains. Legio V, Legio VI, and Legio XII read the golden plaques beneath the great wyrm totems, announcing who strode beneath them to all.

They were ordered in rectangular blocks of soldiers, over half-a-dozen men deep and much wider. Behind each block stood a second, identical formation of legionaries, and it was clear to even Teresa's untrained eye that this pairing of units was somehow intentional. As she flew along she found that they were not arranged in a straight line, but rather in a diagonal, with each pair of units placed behind and to the left of the one before it. Because of this the right side of the line was much farther forward than the left. Finally, there were also wide lanes between each pair of units, and Teresa noted that these gaps were large enough for one block of the pair to march out to the side and then forward to fill the space.

On the far right edge was a long line of horsemen who could only be knights and other patricians. The wealthiest were clad in gleaming ebony or brilliant meteoric glass, while the less fortunate made do with the gold-tinted armor of slender, overlapping bands of the elven style, or the heavy steel of orcish manufacture. Pennants of many colors streamed from their lances, and their silk surcoats were decorated with a dizzying array of emblems. To their left were plainer legionary horsemen in their dark plate, carrying lances whose points caught the light of the sun and reflected it in hundreds of tiny sparks.

Then to their left came the foot soldiers, also wearing plate armor. First were those under the standard of the Fifth Legion, who bore high crests of red horse-hair upon their helmets. These were the soldiers that Teresa was used to seeing within the Imperial City, and all across the countryside. The helms of the other two Legions farther along the line were bare however, something she had not seen before. Also strange was that none of their shields were emblazoned with the Imperial dragon. Rather they were all painted with the black head of a wolf against a white background. The arming swords and daggers at their hips were standard legion gear however.

When she had finally soared far to the left, over the trailing end of the oblique formation, Teresa saw soldiers wearing mail rather than plate beneath her. Their formations were not as orderly as the legionaries, and they marched under standards bearing a black eagle. They wore yellow surcoats and carried shields decorated with the same noble-looking bird, while steel arming swords hung from their hips.

Circling back over the army, Teresa saw that even more soldiers came streaming from the city gate. These wore a hodge-podge of plate, mail, and even leather armor, and carried all manner of weapons, from swords and axes, to maces and spears. Rather that falling in to either side of the main line of infantry, they grouped into loose bands in the rear of the army.

Also behind the main line of infantry, near the right side, was a large clump of riders. A great banner of golden silk flew before them, decorated with a crimson dragon and surrounded by eight stars of varying colors. Somehow it reminded Teresa of the Amulet of Kings, and how it had a red gemstone rimmed in gold, and was also surrounded by eight small gems.

Under the banner rode two distinct groups. The first was of a dozen men in legionary armor, including a few whose gear was gilded with silver and golden dragons. One of the latter also wore a red sash around his waist, and held an ivory baton in his hand. All of the other legionaries seemed to surround him, and as Teresa watched riders would occasionally come up to him, or ride off after speaking with him.

The second, much larger group was comprised of men and women wearing the banded armor of the Blades, and curved swords hung from their hips. They were all grouped around a man atop a coal black horse. His armor was of gleaming ebony decorated with golden dragons, and a sword of the same material hung from his hip. Even from her great height, Teresa could see the blue flash of his eyes, glittering like azure stars in the dark recesses of his helmet. She knew them instantly. She had seen them before. He was Uriel Septim's son, Martin.

Now Teresa flew past the human army, farther to the east, where the fields of grain were blasted and burned under a line of blazing oval portals. Like mirrors of fire, they burned between tall, curved fangs of black stone that seemed to sprout up from the ground underneath. Streaming from these infernal gateways, and already formed into a vast host, was a nightmare army.

First came four-legged beasts armed with sharp beaks and gleaming claws, spread out in small clumps along the battlefield. Great crowns of bone rose up from around their heads, forming what almost looked like rounded sails, and long tails stretched out behind them. Teresa recognized them as clannfears from their description in Varieties of Daedra.

Among them were creatures that walked upright as mer did. Yet their skin was the color of rust, and horns curled up from their foreheads. They were clad in jagged metal armor adorned with spikes, while flanged maces of the same rough-looking material hung from their waists. Each clutched a brace of chains, leading to collars affixed to the necks of the clannfears.

Those were dremora, Teresa knew, for her book had described them as well.

Teresa flew over a second line of creatures behind those, again formed in ragged clumps. There were giant four-legged beasts with long, narrow heads that she thought might be daedroth. For every one of the giants, there were nearly a dozen far smaller monsters that walked upright as mortals did, yet had long rat-like tails that whipped out behind them. With no hair at all upon their wiry frames, their distorted faces brimmed with sharp teeth, and their skinny fingers ended in narrow claws. Scamps, Teresa realized, they had been one of the first creatures described in Varieties of Daedra.

In a few places Teresa also saw atronachs: woman-shaped creatures that seemed to be made of living fire, others of gleaming ice, and even a few comprised of rocks floating about themselves. Even more rare were monsters with the bodies of spiders, yet heads and torsos that could almost be elven. As with the clannfears, more dremora walked among these groups. Only these carried not chains, but rather staves in their hands.

Finally Teresa came to a deep, solid line of more dremora who marched under standards of bones and flayed skin. Most carried shields in addition to a sword or mace. Sprinkled among them Teresa saw some with long, two-handed blades instead, and one or two with massive hammers. The dremora did not have the neatness to their ranks that the Imperial Legion possessed. Yet what they lacked in order, they more than made up for in numbers, for their line stretched far wider, and much deeper than the mortal army's.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Jun 2 2010, 09:03 PM

Great setup! Just awesome!

I think you've made this far more epic than in-game, and the build-up is definitely much more exciting and suspenseful.

I think we're all in for a treat! If the guys ain't happy with this chapter, I'm gonna hunt everyone of 'em down with my modified White's emasculator!

Posted by: Destri Melarg Jun 3 2010, 12:22 AM

Using Teresa’s dream flight to get a panoramic view of the armies is a brilliant idea! Your detailed description of the field and the armies really sets the stage. You know how I feel about large-scale engagements. 16k words translates to about 64 pages (give or take)! I am going to settle in and really enjoy this.

This is my favorite paragraph. It not only transitions us from a description of the human forces to a description of the daedric host (I just love using that word to describe an army), it also stands as a powerful description of the line of Oblivion Gates that spawn them.

I don’t really have any nits to point out. Everything is written so well. I do have an observation that you can use or disregard: Given the depth and the detail of description that we get to see through Teresa’s ‘beady raven’s eyes’, it doesn’t seem possible that she could see and process that level of detail from a single pass over the field. It might be wise to suggest that she is circling.


@haute – Why did your emasculator need to be ‘modified’?

Posted by: haute ecole rider Jun 3 2010, 12:58 AM

It's modified for minimal tissue trauma. Not that it matters from the patient's perspective - the important stuff STILL gets removed!

You hadda ask!

Posted by: SubRosa Jun 3 2010, 02:11 AM

So what you are saying is that it turns guys into rabid Twilight fans?

Posted by: haute ecole rider Jun 3 2010, 02:43 AM

Well, not exactly rabid.

More like soprano Twilight fans in drag!

Posted by: D.Foxy Jun 3 2010, 02:43 AM

Rosa, congratulations.

I suspect you have taken the panorama idea from Oliver Stone's sweeping 'eagle eye view' panoramic shot of the Battle of Gaugemela from 'Alexander' - is that correct?

Excellent description of the Oblique order in battle! I see you have understood the tactics of the 'refused flank' and of grouping the Cavalry into a decisive wing.

I see you have placed the elite troops in the Van, and the militia behind. Good. This will prevent the Militia tripping up the heels of the elite in attack, and will also keep the Militia as a 'just in case' reserve should the enemy break through. Since defense is easier than attack this duty should be within the limited skills of the Militia.

From the Arrangement of your troops in battle I suspect the humans are going to attack first, rather than wait for the demons to attack - in spite of the fact that the humans are heavily outnumbered.

This I can deduce from the fact that you have concentrated much of the elite into a 'battering ram' on one side, with gaps between your units so that other units can be added or withdrawn as the tactical situation unfolds in battle.

This of course is necessary as the Dremora Army is much wider and deeper than the human, so that if a line - to - line contact is made the Dremora Army will simply envelop the human one.

Thus it seems that the human army will attack on one flank, refuse the other, and as and when a penetration of the enemy line is made, the Cavalry will move up from the reserve and pour into the hole to break up the cohesion of the Dremora army...

The basic plan of the Battle of Gaugamela!

But as you know very well, Rosa, the old saying "No battle plan survives contact with the enemy" holds true for all ages.

I hope in your next posts you will explain the planning of battle, the fighting and chaos that follows actual contact, and the instant improvizations that Commander have to make in the heat of battle.

Foxy Strategos Opitmus Maximus (Yes, I know I've mixed Greek and Latin. So what....I like to be historically accurate!)

Posted by: Olen Jun 3 2010, 05:34 PM

I second the comments on how well the 'eagle eye' (raven eye?) view will work for this battle and it promises to be most exciting, I'm already enjoying it (so no fun for hauty). The descriptions of the daedra were great, they sounded right for someone who knows little about them and hasn't seen one before but I still worked out what they all were.

You've certainly made it epic... let the carnage begin...

Posted by: SubRosa Jun 4 2010, 06:32 PM

haute ecole rider: Thank you haute. An epic feel is exactly what I am looking for.


Destri Melarg: I am glad the panoramic view is working. This chapter will alternate from Teresa's raven's eye pov to show the battle overall, and from the pov of Pappy Vitellus, who will show us a very important piece of it from up close and on the ground.

Good observation on adding something in about Teresa circling around the field to see everything. I went back and added in several bits to show that she is flying from one area to another throughout the piece.


D.Foxy: You are spot on about Oliver Stone's use of the eagle. I really liked how he used that to show the panoramic view of Gaugamela. (I have Alexander Revisited on blu-ray btw, vastly superior to the other versions of the movie). The memory of that, combined with the vision-flight of Julian, Jauffre, and Martin that I already had, prompted me to use another vision to show the battle in a way that the people within it could never see.

Actually, I was not really thinking of Gaugamela in particular when I scripted out the battle. In fact, I often forget that Alexander refused his left in that battle. Usually Epaminondas is who comes to my mind when I think of the oblique, given how he used it to obliterate the Spartan Royal Bodyguard and kill King Cleombrotus at Leuctra.

In any case, you have the gist of Adamus Phillida's plan down. He means to win with his right before he loses with his left. However, you overlooked one thing, the Great Gate and its Sigil Stone. Phillida has to ensure that the Daedra create the gate, and then he has draw their army away from it so a crack team of commandos can get inside and take the stone. Otherwise the entire battle will have been for naught.

An interesting thing I noted when I was looking over the daedra and dremora pages in the wiki is that they have no cavalry. The nearest thing they do have are some of the beast-like daedra such as clannfears and daedroth. But I envision them as being near-uncontrollable, critters they might be able to send on a straight-ahead charge, but not ones that can be used for any kind of actual maneuvering. That leaves Phillida with one huge advantage: cavalry, and he has the best in Tamriel at his disposal.


Olen: Thank you Olen. The main reason I put Varieties of Daedra in Vilverin was so that Teresa could read it, and thusly be able to identify the daedra in this battle (as well as in chapter 11). And most importantly, allow me to use their names!


All: The battle continues. In this segment we will meet some of the Bravil Fighters Guild, who have a very important mission to perform in the battle (and some of whom will play very important roles in future chapters - hint, they have pictures). As do the Blades, who are led by a certain white-haired Redguard of our acquaintance.

Also, as I have been doing Teresa 2.0, I have been making an effort to use accurate names for things like weapons. That is why you see terms like arming sword now, because that is really what the game calls a longsword. In this segment we will see a true longsword - which is to say a two handed sword - what the game calls a claymore. Likewise I am also using this chapter to establish that forms of armor such as mithril and elven are actually lighter than steel armor. Also that there are no silver weapons, but rather mithril ones, and that there are recurve bows made from sila wood.

* * *

Chapter 10b - The Battle Of Bruma

"Man for man, these dremora are bigger, stronger, and tougher than your average legionary. The Churls, who are the lowest of them, carry maces and wear the lightest armor. The higher caste of Kynvals use swords. Their officers are Kynreeves and Kynmarchers, and typically carry greatswords. The nobles are known as Markynaz and Valkynaz, and might be armed with either two-handed hammers or blades."

Pappy heard Arentus Falvius speaking from within the trees behind him. The assembled mercenaries from his chapter of the Fighters Guild and a small detachment of Blades listened to the Bruma primate with rapt attention. Pappy had the feeling the older Imperial liked the audience.

Rather than turn to watch, the guild commander remained crouched at the edge of the brush and watched the back of the Daedric army across the knee-high fields of wheat. They were still pouring from the gates that stretched across the plain, and thankfully had not sent scouts to investigate the random groves of trees - like the one he and his people were hidden in - that dotted the landscape behind their army.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v90/subrosa_florens/oblivion/Pappy02.jpg

"The Dremora have only one purpose, to fight, and they spend eons doing it," the high priest of Bruma went on. "Their society is built around a very rigid caste system, in which everyone has a specific place in the chain of command. The only way they can advance is by distinguishing themselves in combat. They call it Azkhul Klizhata - "The Great Game" - and it makes them very eager to prove themselves."

"If this is meant to inspire us, it's not working," Pappy heard Corentin Retiene remark dryly, in that soft tone most Breton's possessed. His curly brown hair was already thinning, in spite of being more than a decade younger than the guild commander. As with all the mercenaries, a medallion in the shape of a red shield emblazoned with a white sword hung from around his neck. His mithril armor had a skirt that hung low, nearly to his knees. A sword of the same material hung from his hip, yet it was a recruved bow of golden sila wood that he gripped in his long fingers.

A chorus of low chuckles sprang up from the other men and women, and Pappy could not help but to smile himself.

"Ah but my young Breton, this is indeed where our advantage lies," Arentus went on. "For you see this makes the Dremora reckless, prone to attack precipitously and without orders, and more importantly, without coordination or support. They each want to single-handedly win the day and be the hero."

"In other words, they don't know the meaning of teamwork, sir?" Now Julian of Anvil's voice cut through the air, prompting the guild commander to turn and look back. The white-haired Redguard was about the same age as he was. Unlike the other Blades who wore their characteristic banded plate armor, she was dressed in lighter mail, with the black Kvatch wolf emblazoned across its white surcoat. The Akaviri katana at her hip looked much like those carried by her compatriots. However, it had a certain glint to it that the guild commander knew well from experience. There was power in that blade, he thought, and quite a bit of it to be so evident from two-dozen paces away.

"Exactly!" The prelate smiled, waving a hand in the air for emphasis. "They have more order than the beast-like Daedra such as clannfears or daedroth, but ultimately they fight as individuals, not units. Do not be surprised if you even see some deliberately interfering with others or outright turning on them when their comrades are not looking. They are immortal, and never forget a slight against their honor. With all that time and competition, many of them have old scores to settle with one another."

"If they're immortal, does that mean we can't kill them?" Now Valerius spoke up. A young Imperial, he was clean-shaven and wore a full panoply of steel plate that practically sparkled in its newness. Good kid, Pappy found himself thinking, always asking questions. If he lived long enough, he would make a solid fighter.

"Don't worry son, steel works just fine against them," Hirtuleius spoke up before Arentus could answer, and Pappy could not restrain a smile at the look of annoyance that flickered across the high priest's face. An Imperial whose long hair had gone to grey, Hirtuleius held an already-strung sila bow in his hands. "Put a blade in their heart, or an arrow in their head, and they will go down same as any man."

"Indeed, that is true," Arentus found his breath. "They are not slain however, at least not in the same sense as we are. No Daedra can truly die. Rather they are banished back to the Daedric Realms.

"So will that make them suicidal fighters then, having nothing to lose?" This time it was a Blade who spoke up, one whose name Pappy did not know. She was younger than he was, short and squat, with a body wrapped in muscle.

"Sometimes, but usually not," the high priest explained. "Banishment is a most unpleasant experience for the Daedra. A rather long one too. Aside from the physical suffering involved, it removes them from the Great Game while they are gone, leaving their rivals free to gain status while they are away. Needless to say, no Dremora looks forward to it."

"So you meatheads, what all this means is that if we work together as a team, we can beat them." Pappy finally raised his own voice as he stepped to the center of the gathering with a clatter of metal. The golden laurel engraved across the front of his legion breastplate glittered even in the dim light beneath the trees. Heavy orcish steel sheathed the rest of his body, and the strap of his legion helm was fastened around his belt, allowing it to hang free. A sword of the ancient Atmoran style hung from his hip. With a thick, straight blade, it ended in a gold engraved crossbar, with a whalebone grip and wide pommel of lobed design. Like the rest of his armor, it bore the gleam of enchantment.

"We fight together, not separately," he continued. "Every man holds his place in the line. You help the man beside you, and sing out when you're in trouble. Keep your potions ready and don't hesitate to guzzle them whenever there's a lull."

"So does that mean we women do not have to hold our place in the line?" Tadrose Helas spoke up with a faint smile on her lips. The Dunmer wore the amber steel of the elven races, formed in numerous overlapping bands shaped like long, slender leaves, over a suit of fine mail. In her hands was a longsword of the elven style as well. With a blade nearly as long as she was tall, the hilt of the two-handed sword was decorated with twisting vines and eagles with wings outstretched.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v90/subrosa_florens/oblivion/Tadrose01.jpg

"Oh no, I would never presume to tell a woman what to do is all." Pappy replied with a grin. That brought a chorus of laughter from the other members of the Fighters Guild, Tadrose included. The Blades on the other hand, looked on stoically.

"At least when they're clothed…" Paol Lirrene added, which brought more guffaws from the mercenaries. A middle-aged Breton with brown eyes and hair well on its way to grey, Paol's burly frame was clad in heavy orcish armor, and a hammer of meteoric glass lay near his hand.

"Or holding weapons!" Now it was the turn of Aissa to chime in. The young Redguard was lean and practically glowing in her mithril armor, and fingered the wire-wrapped hilt of the meteoric glass sword that hung from her hip.

With that the Fighters Guild members and Blades drifted apart into small knots, talking quietly to themselves. Pappy glanced up into the treetops overhead, where he could just barely pick out the red fur of a Khajiit. Making his way to an Altmer with long blond hair tied behind her head into an elegant series of knots, the guild commander clapped a hand onto her armored shoulder.

"Seridwe, go up there and relieve J'sharr," he said, glancing back up above. "He's been on lookout all morning."

"But Pappy, what if those branches get in my hair? They'll ruin it!" the youthful-looking high elf complained. Still, she stood up and shouldered her composite bow before making her way to the tree that the Khajiit was perched within.

"I promise I'll personally pay for the best hair-dresser in Bruma to fix it up," the middle-aged Imperial responded, cupping his hands into a stirrup before the Altmer. She put one boot into his hands and leapt into the branches overhead as he pushed up.

The Altmer seemed as light as a feather as she rose skyward, in spite of the elven armor that covered her tall and slender frame. Not for the first time, the guild commander found himself wondering how the elven smiths could make armor that was not only stronger than human steel, but so much lighter as well. Tadrose would know, he thought, she had forged most of their gear after all. Not that she would ever give him a straight answer. No elven smith would ever part with their secrets.

"You'd better! I spent two hours on it this morning!" Seridwe's voice drifted down from overhead.

"And keep an eye out for the Tenth Legion!" Pappy called up after the high elf, "They might still make it in time!"

Posted by: haute ecole rider Jun 4 2010, 07:43 PM

Nice shift from the panorama of the battlefield to the individuals who will be participating in the upcoming maelstrom. I especially enjoyed the introduction to the Fighters Guild members who will live or die on the morrow (I'm speaking figuratively here). Letting us get to know some of the participants increases the sense of tragedy that always accompanies each battle.

I also liked the lesson about the Daedra. Know thy enemy is one of the most basic tenets of Sun Tzu's Art of War. You have done well to illustrate it here.

Oh, and I especially liked a certain Redguard's cameo here!

Posted by: Verlox Jun 4 2010, 08:51 PM

To think some of these characters could die pretty soon, it's not a great thing to think about.

I applaud you for writing characters that I've come to like and enjoy.

Posted by: D.Foxy Jun 5 2010, 12:57 AM

My heart has stepped up a gear, and a deep GRRRRRRR is beginning to growl softly deep inside.

Funny how battle rhythms recur, even when you are just reading and not actually going to battle.

Posted by: Destri Melarg Jun 5 2010, 08:28 PM

Wow. This was one of the few times in a chapter of yours that the screenshots were actually a distraction for me because they pulled me out of your story and didn’t do justice to your descriptions.

Pappy returns to the TF in all of his grizzled, loveable glory. Julian’s cameo was handled expertly. All of the other Fighter’s Guild members were introduced and characterized in wonderful glowing detail. This promises to be quite a battle, one that more that lives up to the promise of the game. I, for one, can’t wait.

Posted by: Olen Jun 5 2010, 09:39 PM

I like the hooks you've laid for the forthcoming battle, it will make it more convincing that the outnumbered force can prevail and shows that they know their strengths and intend to play to them. I can see the tenth being pivotal too... unless that's misdirection...

The change from the big picture to a small part is good, it offers both the epicness with personality to keep it real and immediate. Good writing And we get some new characters who I suspect won't have the best survival rate though I look forward to seeing more of those who do.

one nit:
it gleamed with barely concealed energy - did you mean concealed? Gleam seems a slightly odd choice if it is concealed (albeit barely).

Posted by: SubRosa Jun 6 2010, 06:15 PM

haute ecole rider: You were not just speaking figuratively there...

The lesson on the daedra was a means for me to show some of the members of the Bravil FG and Arentus Falvius. It also has the added benefit of explaining some things to the readers that they will be seeing as the battle develops. As well as clarifying whether you need magical weapons to harm daedra. In Morrowind you do, in Oblivion you do not. The TF is sticking with Oblivion on this score.

If you liked that little cameo, you will enjoy the others yet to come ever more!


Verlox: Thank you V. I will be spending several segments (now there is an alliteration for you), just on character building of Pappy and the FG. Then... well, things will get ugly for them.


D.Foxy: I will take that grrrr as a vote of approval. Thank you DF.


Destri Melarg: Do you think I should remove the pictures? I know I am horrible on making male faces, a fact I have been lamenting with h.e.r. over PMs

Pappy does return, and makes his first appearance! Got to love how that works for us folks that were at the other forum. This chapter will explain the reason for much of Pappy's behaviour in the later chapters, especially the brutal entrance exam he gave Teresa and the intense training schedule for all his members.


Olen: Thank you Olen. That is not misdirection on the part of the Tenth at all. They are coming all the way from Vvardenfell, so had the longest road. That was originally mentioned in the chapter, but I had to take it out in a later edit due to feeling forced, like an infodump, rather than naturally flowing from conversation.

Nit addressed.


All: All battles start with the skirmishing, we now see this below. Pappy also has an unpleasant surprise waiting for him.


* * *

Chapter 10c - The Battle Of Bruma

Teresa flew lower, and saw that the wide space of grain fields and pastures between the two armies was not empty. Rather numerous mounted soldiers were scattered throughout the area with absolutely no organization or order. They all appeared to be Redguards, and wore leather armor adorned with short, brilliant red capes. They held round shields in the hands that gripped their reins, and were armed with a brace of javelins and sword.

Standing beside each rider was an archer on foot. They appeared to be Imperial, yet also wore leather armor rather than legion plate. Each held a longbow just like the one she used, and had a buckler and axe hanging from their belts. It only took Teresa a moment to recognize them as legion foresters, being accoutered exactly the same as Attius had been, and she imagined that he must be one of those men as she flew past overhead.

The archers were firing into the front ranks of the Daedric army, taking their time to make the most of each shot. Here and there clannfears slipped their chains, or were purposely loosed by their masters, and charged across the open space at the bowmen. Rather than stand and fight however, the nearby Redguards hauled the threatened foresters up behind their saddles and rode off to safety. In the meantime the advancing Daedra were shot by the archers still on foot to either side. When the clannfears wheeled to charge those in turn, the first archers dismounted once more and shot them in the back.

Slowly but surely the leading members of the Daedric army were thusly baited out into the open and slaughtered before Teresa's eyes. Finally with the deep rolling of drums, a line of dremora archers stepped through the ranks and stood before their army. Their arrows flew with deadly efficiency, and now it was the turn of many Imperials and Redguards to fall writhing and screaming between the rows of wheat.

The Imperial foresters seemed to panic then, racing toward the main line of legionaries either on foot or being given rides by nearby horsemen. Their flight quickly took them out of range of the Daedric bows, yet still they did not stop running. The dremora archers must have sensed an easy victory, for they eagerly rushed forward in pursuit.

They were halfway across the field when a series of trumpets rang out from the Imperial army. A moment later the steel-clad legionary cavalry on the far right of the army came trotting out in a long line, turning to the left to face the dremora archers as they did. So intent were they upon their prey, that the Daedric soldiers did not notice until the Imperials had reached a full gallop. By then their fate had been sealed, and the horsemen rode them down in a thunder of hooves and flashing lance-points. A few of the monsters stood their ground and fired at the oncoming horsemen. Most turned their backs and fled for their own lines however, and were speared down from behind.

Now the remnants of the first line of Daedra rushed forward, clannfears and dremora handlers alike. There was no sound of drums to order them as with the archers. They simply started forward in small groups at first, then gradually more and more followed in a disorderly wave until all were racing across the field.

The heavy cavalry wheeled and fled before them, heading for the line of Imperial legionaries. The Redguards carrying archers paused there to unload their passengers, while their compatriots continued on through the open lanes in the army to its rear. There the heavy horsemen rode around the back of the army to once more take up a position with the knights on the extreme right flank.

In the meantime foot soldiers wearing glittering mithril armor and carrying staves in their hands strode to the front of the line. Dazzling bolts of lightning sparked out across the fields as they advanced, burning the clannfears to smoldering heaps. The foresters added their arrows to the storm as well, turning the open field into a killing ground even deadlier than before.

* * *

"Alright Calva," Pappy said, squatting down beside an Imperial who sat with his back to a tree. The younger man wore bronze-colored Dwemer armor, and carried a mithril arming sword at his hip. "How many healing potions were you able to brew up for us last night?"

"I, um, wasn't able to make any more." The other Imperial's dark eyes darted back and forth like those of a wild rabbit. Pappy knew that look all too well, he had seen it on enough people cheating at cards, and he felt his blood grow hot. "I wasn't able to find any ingredients."

"No ingredients?" Pappy breathed, controlling his temper just in case he was wrong. Calva had only joined a week before, he thought, and had seemed an able enough hand, until now at least. "What about fatigue potions? We're probably going to be at it all day, and are going to need them to keep from wearing out."

"I couldn't find anything to make those either." Now the younger Imperial's eyes darted from one direction to another, as if looking for help, or an escape route.

"What the bloody Oblivion are you talking about!" Pappy finally exploded now, grabbing hold of the other man's gorget in one armored hand and shaking him. "You can make those with bread! or apples! You're paid extra to be our alchemist, you lying sack of guar dreck! What the blazes have you been doing?"

"I…" the other man stammered. Now a crowd of mercenaries was gathering around them, their eyes hard and features expressionless.

"He doesn't know a thing about brewing potions, does he?" Corentin growled. "I knew that fetcher was full of it!"

"Is that true?" Pappy had to fight to keep his voice from carrying. The Daedric army was nearby, he knew, and the last thing he wanted was to make enough of a racket to bring them down on their ears. He effortlessly lifted the armored man to his feet and leaned in so close that he could smell the garlic on the other man's breath. "Have you been lying all this time?"

"I found that first batch of potions in a ruin." Calva explained, eyes downcast. "I thought I could figure how to make more by now…"

"You sorry son of a guar." Pappy sighed, releasing the other man and looking away. He had been counting on Calva to keep them all supplied with potions during the fight. Now they would have to do with whatever they had on them. How many of them were not going to see another sunrise because of his misplaced trust?

The guild commander looked back at the Imperial, and the next thing he knew, his fist had buried itself in the young man's face. Blood erupted, and he felt the familiar crunch of a nose breaking under the orcish steel that wrapped his fingers.

"Get out of my sight," Pappy rumbled. "You're out of the guild as soon as this is over."

Pappy turned away, heart pounding like a smith's hammer. He knew that if he saw the other man's face for even a moment longer he would not be able to stop himself. Not here, he told himself, not when there were so many onlookers. He would settle up with Calva later, when no one else was around.

He made his way to the edge of the trees. Behind him he could hear several of the other guild members threatening Calva in low tones. Steel clashed against steel against as they added emphasis to the discussion.

Cacat! Pappy cursed himself, what have I done? Why on Nirn had he believed Calva?

Posted by: D.Foxy Jun 6 2010, 06:22 PM

Pappy was too lenient.

In my day, if any soldier under me had lied about his medical skill and was discovered only on the battlefield, he would have been shot - by the enemy, of course.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Jun 6 2010, 07:15 PM

I'm not sure that Pappy was too lenient.

Now Calva has to not only worry about the Daedra army in front of him, but also the FG members in back of him (assuming he doesn't run from the battlefield first). To me, the anticipation is always worse than the reality.

This was great - a tremendous buildup of tension both on a large and a small scale.

I'm looking forward to more epicness!

A couple of nits, though:

This looks like a sentence fragment to me.

I think you meant the contraction of you are - you're instead.

Posted by: Olen Jun 6 2010, 07:22 PM

Nice bit of characterisation there, it gives a better feel of Pappy and also offered a preview of the coming battle.

A short piece which I assume means the next one will be quite epic in scale and length... An exciting prospect...

Also all this development of these fighter's guild types makes me wonder about that tarot reading and the knight of swords...

Posted by: Broken-Scale Jun 7 2010, 12:16 AM

Wow, I sure have missed alot. I love all of this new stuff you've been adding! The part with Jalbert in Vilverin was very nerve-wracking, and this part about the Battle of Bruma is just awesome! I love this new, improved version so much! Keep it up!

Posted by: Destri Melarg Jun 8 2010, 08:33 AM

The first time I read Pappy’s name in the last chapter I remembered the scene in the previous version of the TF when he speaks of the losses sustained during this battle. It is nice to see the events dramatized so effectively here.

I have to say that I am with Foxy here. The anticipation and threat of punishment is all well and good for a simple gaffe or a screw-up. What Calva did is going to be paid for with the blood of how many men in the coming battle? And why did he do it? Greed . . . for a few lousy extra septims in his own purse! He hasn’t earned an honorable death at the hands of the enemy. Pappy should have spit him like a wild boar right then and there!

Nits:

Here you have a slightly awkward repetition of the word ‘army’. Perhaps shortening it to read ‘the extreme right flank’ might help it flow a bit smoother.

Posted by: D.Foxy Jun 8 2010, 01:39 PM

Right on, Destri.

Crimes committed out of fear may be pardonable. Crimes committed out of Greed may be pardonable. But crimes committed out of Greed that lead to the death of many lives...AND especially the lives of those whom you solemly swore, in witnessed oath, to honour as your brothers whom you would give your life for, and whom would give theirs for you...

No. No pardon. Not from THIS man.

I'd have made sure he 'died in battle'.

Posted by: SubRosa Jun 8 2010, 04:41 PM

D.Foxy: I had considered Pappy killing Calva then and there, but decided against it for several reasons. The most important one being that even he is not reckless enough to kill one of his own people in front of the Bruma primate, the vice-magister of the Mages Guild (who we will see in this next segment), and a group of Blades. That is the kind of thing he would only do quietly, with no one to know except perhaps a few guild members he could trust to keep their mouths shut. Ironically this is the same sort of thing that Arentus told the group to expect from the dremora.

What I find interesting is that no one has mentioned Pappy's own failings as a leader concerning Calva and the healing potions. It was one of the things the last segment was meant to point out. He had ample time to verify that Calva really was an alchemist, but never did so. Likewise, he had plenty of time to check in on him to make sure he was making the potions he was supposed to. He just took it all for granted, and now his chapter will likely suffer for that.


haute ecole rider: More character-building with the FG this installment. You are sure to like Pappy's conversation with the leader of the Blades...

Thank you for the observations, fixed.


Olen: Thank you Olen. We will see more of the FG this time out, rather than the main battle (I cannot help it, it is the estrogen in me). Keep looking for the Knight of Swords. Although in the distant future one or more of the people in the FG might be considered that. But that is a long way off.


Broken-Scale: Thank you scale.



Destri Melarg: One of the main reasons I went with Pappy as the pov character for the down-on-the-ground scenes was because of the later chapters with him. He will be heavily influenced by the events of this battle. It is a very rude awakening, to say the least.

Nit noted and fixed, thank you for spotting that.


* * *

Chapter 10d - The Battle Of Bruma

Across the field he could see the dremora were still pouring from half-a-dozen Oblivion Gates stretching across the plain. Yet there was still no sign of the Great Gate they were waiting for. He could see nothing beyond the backs of the Daedra, except for a cloud of dust rising into the sky. He imagined that the Cyrodiilic army was still making its way out of Bruma however. It took a long time to get an army out of camp and into fighting line after all.

"Are your people going to be ready for this sir?"

Pappy turned to see Julian of Anvil - The Hero of Kvatch - he reminded himself, standing beside him. He had not even heard her approach, and once again he cursed himself, this time for not paying attention.

"The Bravil guild will do their job," Pappy found himself growling. Closing his eyes, he paused, then looked back at the Redguard again. Don't take it out on her, he thought, none of it was her fault. When he spoke again, he made sure it was in a quieter, more reassuring tone.

"We'll be fine, don't worry. A lot of these guys are ex-legion. Paol was with me in the Sixth and the Eighth, Hirtuleius in the Tenth, J'sharr the Fourth. Akatosh's balls, Corentin was a tribune before he resigned. He's old nobility from High Rock. They're aren't spit and polish, but they're good fighters all."

"If you say so sir," The Redguard glanced back in the direction that Pappy had come from. Clearly she had witnessed the altercation. He could not blame her for having doubts.

"Stop calling me that," Pappy found himself breathing. "Neither one of us is Imperial Legion anymore. I'm just a hired sword now, and you're a spy."

"Old habits die hard sir," the woman shrugged. Then she rapped her knuckles against the golden laurel gilding the front of his legion breastplate. "Besides, I still remember that. Every one of us from the Sixth does. None of us would be here if not for what you did at Whiterun."

"I wasn't alone." Pappy looked back out across the fields of wheat at the Daedric army. "There were a lot of good soldiers there with me, and a lot fewer when it was over."

"But you held the city, in spite of the rebels outside, and inside, the walls. Not many leaders could have done that in a nine month siege. You did." Julian's gaze followed his own. "We'd have lost the entire province if not for you."

Was that just ancient history? the guild commander found himself wondering, or did he still have it in him? Well, he had damn well better, he thought, or they were all in for it.

"We'll get you to that Oblivion Gate, if they ever open the blasted thing, and hold it until you come back out with that Great Sigil Stone." Pappy found himself saying. "Believe me, nothing is going to get back through after you. Your back is safe with us."

"That's good to hear sir," Julian replied. "Not that I was really worried."

Then why did you ask in the first place? Pappy thought to himself. Looking into the face of the Redguard, he saw the answer. Just like a woman to give a man a pep-talk by making him do it for himself. Tadrose was the same way, he thought, all women were. Damn sneaky.

"You just watch that Arentus," Pappy cautioned, turning to look back into the small groups of warriors within the copse of trees. "I don't care if he is the best conjurer in Cyrodiil, he's trouble. He was the primus magus of the Tenth in Vvardenfell for nearly twenty years before he traded in his armor for a cassock. He's used to being top bull, and isn't going to take orders easy."

"I could say the same to you," the Redguard woman observed. "Raminus Polus is the right hand of the arch mage isn't he? The second man in the entire Mages Guild? Plus a patrician to boot."

"Oh, don't worry about the vice magister," Pappy felt a smile break from his lips as his eyes settled upon the mage.

With the dark hair and eyes of all Imperials, Polus' face barely showed any of his four decades. He wore a plain blue mage's robe, and carried a staff in one hand. Pappy saw Vincent Galien sitting across from the magister, listening intently to whatever it was the magician was saying. Barely old enough to join the guild, barely old enough to even shave, Pappy laughed to himself, the young Breton wore a suit of steel plate as shiny and new as that of Valerius. With any luck, both of them would still be alive at the end of all this.

"Raminus and I go way back," the guild commander continued. "I was a brand new hastatus posterior in the Larks here in Cyrodiil, and he was fresh out of the Arcane University doing a study on goblins. We had our… disagreements, but we came to an understanding. He leaves the soldiering to me, and I leave the magic to him. Since then we've gotten along just fine."

With that the soft sound of Hirtuleius' singing came to Pappy's ears. With a soothing, mellow tone, the man's voice was a pure joy to hear. For not the first time, the guild commander wondered why the Imperial had ever gone into the army, and later become a mercenary, when he could have spent his days living comfortably off his vocal chords.

"Our apprentice Thurindil may now refuse,
To wipe his scoundrel master's shoes.
For now he's free to sing and play,
Over the hills and far away.

Over the hills and over the main,
To Morrowind, Skyrim, and Illiac Bay.
Emperor Martin commands and we obey,
Over the hills and far away."

Pappy felt a smile crest his features as he drifted back deeper into the trees, where most of his guild were clustered around Hirtuleius. Julian hovered beside him in silence, and they all listened quietly until the grey-haired Imperial had finished the song. Then, as always, the grousing began.

"So how were we so lucky to get this job?" J'sharr asked, stretching his arms above his head. The red-furred Khajiit wore the slender, banded armor of elven design, and an axe and shield of the same work sat to either side of his lithe frame. "Are we finally getting some credit?"

"No," Tadrose Helas replied, running a finger along the edge of her long blade and casting an appraising eye along its slightly reddened surface. Pappy saw the elvish word Anganar written at the base of the blade. Or as the dark elf had once told him it meant in the common tongue: Forge. "Donton and Oreyn hate Gaius."

"Aye," Paol's voice rose in agreement. "Vilena Donton has had it in for Gaius since back in the days when he was the Guild Champion. And Oreyn, well, that bugger put more than one knife in Gaius' back to take his place. He's got his nose stuffed so far up Donton's backside that if she ever farts it'll clear his mind."

Pappy laughed, as did several others. "Oreyn's just jealous of my charm," he said. "Not to mention my artistic talent."

"I didn't know you were an artist?" Corentin looked up from a book that lay open in his lap.

"Only when it comes to getting young women out of their clothes," Tadrose observed dryly, now sheathing her long blade. The guild commander could not fail to note the slightly sardonic tint to her voice. Not barbed enough to be obvious to all, but just enough to let him know exactly what she thought of his numerous liaisons. "How was your night with the Countess by the way?"

"You know a gentleman never talks about that sort of thing." Pappy rose and found his pack among those piled up next to one of the trees. Unfastening the buckle that held its flap shut, he began digging through its contents.

"Yes, but what is stopping you?" J'sharr's voice came from behind him, along with a chorus of laughter.

Pappy could not restrain a chuckle himself. His steel-clad fingers set upon smooth glass, and he smiled again. Drawing forth a long, slender bottle, he pulled out its cork with his teeth and let the smoky amber liquid within slide down his throat. It felt warm on his tongue, and lit a welcome fire as it settled into his belly. Hot enough to calm the butterflies that always sprang up on the eve of a battle.

"Try this," he grinned, handing the bottle to Corentin, who happened to be nearest to where he now stood. "I got it from the castle wine cellar."

"This is four hundred year old flin!" the nobleman exclaimed, then took a long swig from the bottle. A look of contentment settled upon the Breton's face. "How did you get your hands on this?"

"Getting my hands on things I'm not supposed to is a finely-tuned talent of mine." Pappy admitted.

"Laugh all you want now," Pappy heard Njall say darkly from beyond the circle of fighters. Looking up, the guild commander saw the Nord walking past. His brilliant red hair was swept back from his face and hardened with lime. Wearing no armor, his nearly naked frame was decorated in tattoos of horses, dragons, and intricate knotwork symbols, all of which nearly glowed with a feeling of power in the dim light beneath the trees. He carried a battle-axe bearing a single long, downward sweeping blade of mithril at the top of its elongated oak haft. "You'll all rue your debauchery and intemperance when the day comes that you face the gods!"

"I don't know about you, but I'm looking forward to facing Dibella when my turn comes!" J'sharr's fangs showed as he laughed. Then he took the bottle from Corentin and raised it in a toast to the dour fundamentalist. "Until then, down the hatch."

"Hey Pappy, the vice magister taught me how to cast a healing spell!" Vincent Galien proclaimed as he walked up with Raminus Polus in tow. Snatching up the bottle before Paol could take it from J'sharr, the youthful Breton took a long swallow of the flin. His face instantly turned red, and he nearly spat it out moment later. That brought a chorus of laughter from the assembled warriors, and a hearty slap on the back from Paol.

"Now there's a school teacher alright," Hirtuleius observed when things quieted down. "About to jump in the biggest battle in history we are, and he's giving lessons."

"I'd like to teach him a few lessons," Aissa said with a fiery look at the magician. For not the first time, Pappy wished he was not a guild commander as his eye lingered over the sultry young Redguard. But he had already been fired from his job as Champion for that, he thought sourly, or that was the excuse at least. No sense making it easy for Oreyn to take his chapter too.

"Oh ho! Watch out for that one Raminus!" J'sharr piped up. "She mates and she kills does the Black Widow!"

"That one just didn't have what it takes!" Aissa took the bottle of flin into her hands with a glimmer in her eyes. "I'm sure the mage here can… measure up."

"Leave the poor man alone, can't you see he's married?" Corentin said, pointing to the white-gold ring on Polus' left hand.

"That's right, I am," Raminus smiled, twisting the ring with finger and thumb, "and in spite of Aissa's most impressive attributes, I intend to remain quite happily that way."

"The magister speaks with wisdom," Morning-Star now stirred himself. The rust-scaled Argonian opened a small keepsake and looked at the portraits within. Like many of the other mercenaries, he wore a suit of elven armor. Unlike them however, a curved Akaviri blade hung at his hip. "Only a fool chases tails when there are warm scales waiting in his nest."

Raminus stepped over to the Argonian and looked down at the locket when the other man held it up. "Is that your family?"

"Indeed," Morning-Star said, making no effort to conceal the pride in his harsh, almost hissing voice. He pointed to a green-scaled Argonian woman on the left, who possessed a line of bony spines adorning either side of her head. "This one is Morning-Star's mate, Hides-In-The-Clouds. A finer swimmer one has never seen." Then he motioned to a male Argonian on the right, who had the same colors that he did, only brighter. "That is Storm-Tail, this one's son. That one was born during a lightning storm, and was so eager to get out of his egg that this one's mate said there must be a storm inside of it as well."

"You are a lucky man Morning-Star." Raminus, laying a friendly hand on the fighter's shoulder. "My Cornelia and I have not been blessed with children, yet at least."

"How old is that tadpole of yours 'Star?" Hirtuleius asked as the bottle came to him. "I haven't seen him in years it seems, ever since you sent him off to that school in the Imp City."

"He has just seen his nineteenth wet season." Morning-Star explained. "His instructors say he is gifted in mathematics. He must get that from his mother, for this one cannot count to eleven without help from his tail!"


Notes: Over The Hills And Far Away is a traditional English song, modified to fit the ES universe.

Posted by: Remko Jun 8 2010, 04:44 PM

I'd say the "alchemist" is amongst the "calculated losses" hehe.
I quote from expendable heroes:" Back to the front!"

Posted by: D.Foxy Jun 8 2010, 04:50 PM

Then why did you ask in the first place? Pappy thought to himself. Looking into the face of the Redguard, he saw the answer. Just like a woman to give a man a pep-talk by making him do it for himself. Tadrose was the same way, he thought, all women were. Damn sneaky.


QUOTED FOR TRUTH

Posted by: haute ecole rider Jun 8 2010, 05:25 PM

And if I recall correctly, something many old-time USMC NCO's were proud of, especially when posted alongside Army units. Not sure if that's still the case.

Good prelude to the battle. No, I think death at the hands of his fellow FG members is the more likely fate for Calva. I will wait to see if that is what happens next.

Posted by: D.Foxy Jun 8 2010, 06:43 PM

Alas, it seems that you did not see the subtle innendo in " Just like a woman...making a man do it for himself"...

You are slipping, nautee hautee!!!

Posted by: Olen Jun 8 2010, 11:02 PM

I did have a comment, then what passes for internet in the backwater I'm stuck in died.

So rather less eloquently: I like it. Good depth of character there, enough background to make them individual and so when it all goes wrong you'll be able to evoke emotion in the reader. I also enjoyed the hinted tension between magic and fighting soldiers.

Brilliant, more bringing the setting alive by showing how different things are for argonians. Sufficently wierd saying to be awarded the random viking too

More? Please?

Posted by: Destri Melarg Jun 9 2010, 12:56 AM

Pappy is a man of many parts. In addition to being a good soldier, a respected Guild honcho, and something of a player with the ladies we now discover that he is a leader worth his weight in gold, and a world class dog-robber to boot. That flin probably adorned General Talos’ table, once upon a time.

I am trying not to become too attached to all of the great characters that are being presented, because I know that not all of them will be leaving the Jerall Mountains. The problem is that you are making that extremely hard to do.

Posted by: Acadian Jun 9 2010, 04:02 PM

Well done Sub Rosa!

Regarding how Pappy handled the fake alchemist, you did a wonderful job. You are the author here, and your choices are built upon a solid foundation.

I thoroughly loved the interaction between Pappy and Julian. It is difficult to write for someone else's character, but you beautifully reflected a sensitive wisdom that is our endearing Julian.

Posted by: SubRosa Jun 10 2010, 04:32 PM

Remko: We will just have to wait and see what happens to Calva. Things certainly do not look good for him though...


D.Foxy: Sneaky and proud of it! We do not have to make you men do it yourselves though. You guys seem quite glad to take the initiative on that score.


haute ecole ouroboros: Thank you h.e.o. Between trading and outright stealing, Pappy has a knack for getting whatever he and his people need. One of the things the t.v. series inspired.


Olen: You have skewered my intentions exactly. All of these characterization scenes with the Bravil FG have been a setup to make the costs of this battle feel very real. Thank you about Morning-Star's comment. I worked quite a bit to come up with that one.


Destri Melarg: Does this mean we will be seeing the flin negotiations in Interregnum, in which somehow the bottle never gets opened?


Acadian: Thank you Acadian. Naturally I ran the scene by h.e.o. and got some insight from her before posting it.


All: Now back to the battle

* * *

Chapter 10e - The Battle Of Bruma

From her position high in the air above, Teresa saw that few of the charging clannfears reached the Imperial line. Those that did found islands of steel-clad humans waiting for them. The forester was reminded of a wave striking a rocky shore, the water rushing up with tremendous fury, yet simply evaporating upon contact with the immovable stone.

Teresa's heart leaped within her feathered chest. The first two lines of the Daedric army had been utterly annihilated, and the Imperial army had barely yet begun to fight! For the first time since seeing the Daedric host, she began to think that the humans might actually win.

That is when a deep, rumbling sound came to her ears. Winging to the east, where the noise was loudest, Teresa discovered that two huge black pillars of stone were rising from the wheat. Curved inward like a pair of monstrous fangs, the two prongs of ugly rock crawled up to nearly fifty feet in the sky before stopping.

Then with a sound that was half-shriek, half whoosh of flame, a bright field of red and orange energy sprang up between the two obsidian columns. Fire erupted from the edges of the pillars, quickly creating a pall of oily black smoke that desecrated the blue sky above. Almost as soon as it had formed, rank after rank of dremora came marching from within the gigantic gateway, adding their numbers to the already swollen Daedric host.

Several minutes later, a series of trumpet blasts erupted from the Imperial army. As one, the ranks of legionaries stepped forward, like a single, gigantic creature made of steel. The sound of thunder came to her ears. Yet not from above, but from below, as the legionaries began beating their swords against the iron rims of their shields. Through the terrific din she could hear shouts as well. "Kvatch! Kvatch!"

A series of deep-throated drumbeats echoed from the opposite side of the field, and the next line of the Daedric army moved forward as well. Daedroth, scamps, atronachs, and their dremora overseers alike. They marched not in the perfectly spaced formations of the Imperials, but rather in a mob of loose knots.

Halfway there the Imperial army stopped at another blare of trumpets. Now the archers and light cavalry flowed back through the large gaps in the line. The Redguards rode through the rear of the army and eventually took up positions behind their heavier brethren on the far right. The archers formed lines and began firing in high arcs, so their arrows flew over the heads of their own soldiers, but fell almost directly down upon the oncoming Daedra.

Then finally, as Teresa had imagined they might, the trailing half of each block of infantrymen stepped first to the left, and then forward into the gaps between units, creating a solid line of swords and shields. There they waited, still beating the flats of their blades against their shields and shouting at the monsters approaching them.

Soon bolts of fire and lightning began to erupt from the advancing line of Daedra. They were answered with the same from the mages within the Imperial ranks. Here and there Teresa saw legionaries in the front ranks stagger or fall, only to be carried back to the rear of the formations. There those that could began raising their hands in the air in a familiar gesture that was followed by a disc of white light descending around them. A healing spell, Teresa thought, just like the one she knew. Those that could not do so themselves, were healed by folk wearing the cassocks of priests and priestesses.

Teresa saw no such aid or comfort from the mages in the Daedric ranks. Instead they either flung their magical attacks into the ranks of Imperials, or in some cases into the monsters which they herded, as if to spur them on to action. The Daedra were falling in large numbers by the time they came near to the Imperial lines, many of the larger ones such as the daedroth bristling with numerous arrows. The Imperial army on the other hand remained steadfast, fresh men stepping forward to replace the fallen, and the wounded being healed and retaking their places in the line behind them.

On the far right, the legion cavalry and knights spurred their horses forward in a charge. Fire and lightning struck many, but the heavily armored warriors simply shrugged off the blows and continued on. Lowering their lances as they drew near, they smashed into the ragged lines of Daedra in front of them with a thunderous crash. Impaled by long spears, or bowled over by the armored breasts of great warhorses, the denizens of Oblivion were shattered beneath an avalanche of steel.

Then the line of foot soldiers charged as well, and the fearful work of swords began. The air was filled with a din of metal striking metal, screams of anguish, and cries of victory. The great daedroth bowled over two or even three soldiers at a time with their huge, clawed arms and spiked tails. Yet the legionaries rose and retreated to heal themselves, while fresh troops closed in and struck the behemoths down from all sides. Scamps threw their firebolts at point blank range, only to be cut down by Imperials moments later. Atronachs and spider daedra fell in the same manner, simply overwhelmed by the massed Imperial soldiers.

Teresa saw that while the Daedra fought separately, the Imperials stood together in a single, solid wall that stretched across the plain. While some men might go down or fall back through the line, the formations they were a part of never wavered themselves. They always held solid, with legionaries remaining in columns stretching from the front of the line to the rear, either fighting themselves, or patiently waiting their turn to step into action.

This must be how the Imperials conquered all of Tamriel, Teresa marveled from her vantage point in the sky above. They simply wore their enemies out through teamwork and endurance.

The fighting was over first on the right, at the leading edge of the army. Yet the city guardsmen of Bruma on the far left had yet to even close with the oncoming creatures. Now Teresa understood the reason for the diagonal formation. It kept the weakest troops, the city guardsmen, out of battle as long as possible.

Yet she could see that most of the Daedric host still had yet to engage. As if prompted into action by her thoughts, another series of drumbeats rose into the Bruma sky. With that the long ranks of dremora soldiers finally stepped forward, standards of bones and flayed skin swaying in the air over their horned visages.

Posted by: D.Foxy Jun 10 2010, 04:50 PM

Cavalry charge before the infantry step up?



Hmmm....I would most definitely NOT have done that. But perhaps all will become clear in the next post...

One comment: in a cavalry charge it is of critical importance that the entire line strikes at the same moment. This is why in a classic cavalry charge, you will see the horses languidly trotting up about fifty yards from the enemy, at a slow pace which enables the entire line to move forward as one, and then at a trumpet signal the entire line will move up into a gallop. If properly timed the horses will reach top speed just as the lances strike the enemy line. Furthermore, the horses must be close, very close together - almost knee to knee.

Additionally, unless you mean the charge to be a decisive, battle-ending charge, the leader of the charge must NOT be in the front rank, but behind a bit so that he can judge the right moment to call back the charge after the initial damage has been done.

The reason is that the shock of the cavalry charge breaks up the ranks, and cavalry in loose formation are EXTREMELY vulnerable to a counter-charge by a cohesive group of enemy cavalry.

History abounds with examples of tens of thousands of horsemen being routed by two or three thousand horsemen who were in compact formation. Individually the Persians were the best horsemen on the earth, but they simply did not know how to ride together in a group. And that was how Alexander's cavalry destroyed far greater numbers of Persian Cavalry.

Posted by: SubRosa Jun 10 2010, 05:07 PM

Well, the cavalry on the right have three options.

1- They can stand there and let the Daedra attack them, which is the absolutely worst thing cavalry can do, since they are an offensive arm, not a defensive one.

2 - They can retreat (either straight back or to the right) and allow the Daedra to envelop the infantry on the right. They might try a counter-charge afterward, and just hope they land it before the infantry collapses.

3 - They can attack the Daedra in the open, before their own dremora infantry can come into action. The Daedra have no cavalry, so there is no danger of a counter-charge by enemy horsemen. In fact, it is the Daedra's nearest approximation to cavalry (in that they are the fastest moving) that the legion horsemen are attacking.

Unless you are referring to the Daedra sending their faster creatures on a headlong charge against the Imperial line? They have not fought in a pitched battle since the days of Alessia, and are more than little rusty. Much like the Gauls, their basic tactic is simply to overwhelm the enemy with a big charge. Unlike the Gauls however, they have good armor and staying power.

They have an entirely different strategy than the human army, relying simply on massive wave attacks to first wear down, and then finally overcome the human army. The dremora commander is quite happy to waste the clannfears and other beast-Daedra in such a fashion. He will eventually get them back when they respawn in Oblivion, and they will leave his dremora in the position to deliver the killing blow and take all the glory from victory.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Jun 10 2010, 08:50 PM

Well written. I liked returning to the overview for the main battle, since it's so hard for a single man (i.e. Pappy) to see the entire thing from the ground. At the front, it's just chaos for the grunts.

Posted by: Destri Melarg Jun 11 2010, 12:18 AM

I have learned a great deal through reading both the chapter and the discussion of cavalry tactics that followed it. I agree with haute that returning to the ‘bird’s eye’ view of the battle was a great choice. Everything was so well described, from the crashing of that first wave of clanfear (or would that be clanfears?) to the final horn that prompted the bulk of the Daedric host to engage. I especially liked the description of the priests healing injured soldiers under a cloud of white magic, and those soldiers retaking their places on the line.

The only suggestion I would make is to be sure that Teresa doesn’t become too removed from events while in raven form. You once told me that you felt no visceral pain from Arnand when he was stabbed by the pirate. Allow me to return the favor by pointing out to you that, with all the steel and daedric weapons flying around, we don’t hear the screams of the wounded and the dying. In raven form Teresa should be able to smell the blood and the loosened bowels and bladders of the men fighting for their lives.

Oh you've got my mind racing now! Be on the lookout for an unopened bottle of flin in the future!

Posted by: Olen Jun 11 2010, 02:44 PM

Woo the battle. I can't comment on tactics as I know more or less nothing about medieval tactics (on that scale anyway). The daedric strategy of the mass charge is good though and makes the eventual outcome (at least the one I expect) believable as history shows that it doesn't always work .

While I agree with Destri that Teresa feels detatched from the battle I see it as less of a problem, you ahve pappy for the gritty sweat and blood stuff and seeing as Teresa is having a vision as a raven at the moment it doesn't strike me as incongrous that she is a bit detached.

And the healing spells, makes sense I suppose, though I'd have considered having the priests higher up raining 'on target' spells, at least those who could aim

Posted by: SubRosa Jun 12 2010, 05:54 PM

haute ecole ouroboros: Thank you h.e.o.


Destri Melarg: Maybe tribeepanic is the plural for clannfear? Civil Organizational Unit Apprehension? I suspect that the collective term for them would be a Fright.

Good observation on the sounds. Once I have time I will go back and work that in.


Olen: Thank you O. You know, I never really think of using targeted healing spells. The trouble in the game is people always move and your spell is wasted when it misses. I often have trouble using a touch healing spell on others. IRL it would not be so bad, but there would still be a lot of jostling in the ranks, and the backs of many other soldiers in the way, so I think touch spells would probably still be preferred. If for no other reason they cost less magicka, and thusly allow you to cast them more often.


all: We return to Pappy's down-to-Nirn pov.


* * *

Chapter 10f - The Battle Of Bruma

The sound of steel crashing through branches caused Pappy to jerk his head up, one hand reflexively falling to the hilt of his Atmoran blade. He saw Seridwe hurtling down the trunk of the tree upon which she had been perched. She moved quickly and recklessly, abandoning any pretense at grace or precision. That was not a good sign, Pappy thought as she finally dropped to the dirt below, her once painstakingly-arranged hair now tangled with pine needles. No, that was not good at all.

"The foreplay's over," she breathed, one hand feeling at the ruin of her golden tresses. "They've opened the Great Gate!"

With those words the butterflies in Pappy's stomach turned into a full-grown bull netches. Where in Oblivion was that flin? he found himself wondering. Shaking his head, he turned to the other men and women.

"Alright people, arm and armor!" he barked in a voice loud enough to be heard throughout the entire grove of trees. He just hoped it would not be heard any farther as he unfastened the strap of his helmet, then lifted it from where it hung at his waist and settled it around his head. "Time to earn our pay. Everybody form up at the edge of the trees. Fighters Guild in the lead, Blades in the rear. Let's move like we got a purpose people!"

He strode through the confusion to his pack, lifting a belt of potion-filled pouches, he settled it around his waist over the leather strap that held his sword and dagger. A pair of water skins came next, then finally he lifted his round orcish shield into his left hand and a handful of stakes into his right. Around him mercenaries and Blades were doing the same in a vortex of confusion. Yet somehow the insanity was all organized, everyone knowing exactly what they were doing, and moving with practiced ease.

As ever, Tadrose was at the edge of the trees before him, her head now sheathed in an eagle-crowned helm, and a brace of wooden stakes laid out on the ground before her. She paid him no mind, staring out across the field instead. Pappy followed her gaze, and could not miss the fiery blaze of the Great Gate looming high above the now scorched and blasted fields of wheat underfoot.

"Cacat!" he cursed, and did not realize it had been aloud until the dark elf finally did turn her head to look at him. The Daedric army was still drawn up in front of the gate, and more and more of their soldiers were issuing from the inferno of its surface. There was no way they would ever get close to that! he knew. Where in the bloody blazes was Phillida and the army?

Now the rest of his people began to file into line to either side of him and his lieutenant. He could hear their groans and curses as they too saw what he did.

"Looks like we still have a bit of a wait folks," Tadrose put it simply, her voice betraying neither irritation or worry. "Let's take the time and everyone check the gear of the one next to them. No loose straps, no worn buckles. Anyone has a problem let me know, I'll fix or replace it if I can. Make sure you have plenty of water and your stakes too."

With that the dark elf set the example by silently inspecting Pappy's armor from head to toe. She might just as well be back in the guildhall kitting out a new member with their first suit of armor. She should have her own chapter, he found himself thinking, if Oreyn and Donton would ever give her one after being with him for so long.

Pappy and many of the others looked up as the noise intensified across the field. He could not see a thing through the armored backs of the assembled dremora and the smoke of the blazing gateways. Yet he could tell something was going on beyond them. There was a low thunder, like a storm was coming, only it went on without pause, and here and there he could see flashes of brilliant light erupting in the dust somewhere beyond the enemy host.

"That's the battlemages," he heard Corentin mutter.

"Now they're getting into it," Hirtuleius added.

The Daedra finally stopped issuing from the Great Gate and the smaller ones across the plain to either side of it. The guild commander could not believe the size of the army stretching out before his eyes, going for at least a mile in either direction. Not in two decades of soldiering had he ever seen an army like that. It seemed as if all of Oblivion had disgorged itself upon the Bruma plateau. How on Nirn were they going to defeat that?

Looking at his people to either side, he could see that they were thinking the same thing. He could not let that happen, he knew. If they doubted, they would break. So he moved among them, putting a hand on a shoulder here, whispering a word of encouragement into an ear there. He even gave healing potions to those without, until he had none remaining for himself. They were his people, and he would make damn well sure they knew that they would be alright. Even if he knew it was a lie.

"How you doing son?" Pappy bent down to next to Valerius. The young Imperial raised his pensive gaze from the dremora across the field, and the guild commander could see the fear deep in his dark eyes.

"There sure are a lot of them Pappy…" Valerius swallowed hard.

"Don't worry kid," Pappy said, laying a hand on the young man's steel-clad shoulder. "It's the men on the other side of the field there that have to do that. They've got a whole army to fight. The truth is we've got the easy part. Just some rear area layabouts that probably haven't picked up a sword in a thousand years. You stay close by me and you'll be fine. Just remember what I taught you. Keep your shield up, use the point, and watch your balance."

"Gaius, you have a minute?" Paol Lirrene leaned in to say quietly to Pappy. Pausing only to give the youngster a smile, the guild commander turned to walk off to the edge of the group with the middle-aged Breton.

"What's on your mind Paol?" Pappy asked, not liking the way the other man's brown eyes would not meet his own.

"I've got a bad feeling about this Pappy," the Breton said, still looking away.

"Don't start with that dreck Paol," Pappy could not restrain the low growl that rumbled loose from within his gut. "We've been through worse than this. Remember Whiterun?"

"There weren't no fetching Daedra at Whiterun!" Paol moaned, and now Pappy could hear the tremor in the veteran soldier's voice. "Have you looked out there? That's all of Oblivion waiting for us!"

"Shut your damn mouth!" Pappy hissed. He stepped in close to the taller Breton and kept his voice low with an effort. "You're a veteran. Those kids over there look to you to see how to act! Get your dreck wired tight, 'cause I'm not going to let you scare 'em so silly they can't fight!"

"How are we supposed to fight that!" Paol declared, sweeping his hand out at the Daedric army. "This is a suicide mission, and you know it!"

Pappy stepped back a moment, looking the other man up and down. Then without warning he backhanded the Breton across the face with his gauntleted fist, drawing a gout of blood from the corner of Paol's mouth.

Now the rest of the mercenaries and Blades turned their eyes on the pair. The guild commander waited as Paol wiped his mouth and looked down at the red liquid that stained his gauntlet. Something in the Breton's eyes snapped then, and a moment later he was on top of the Imperial, pummeling away with his fists.

Pappy fended off the other man's blows with difficulty, thankful for the heavy armor he wore. Before long the rest of the guild members, led by Tadrose, swarmed around the two and pulled them apart.

"You still got that feeling?" Pappy grinned as he looked across the knot of mercenaries at Paol.

"No you dirty fetcher!" his old friend now laughed through teeth reddened with blood. "Not at all!"

"And here I thought it was only women you couldn't keep your hands off of," Tadrose said dryly as she looked at Pappy. That brought a series of low chuckles and wan smiles from the other fighters, and the guild commander found he could not restrain one himself. "While you two have been playing, the dremora have been on the move. It's time for us to go."

All eyes turned to the open field before them, including Pappy's. He saw that Tadrose was right, as she always was. The Daedric army had finally stirred itself, and was now marching away from them, leaving the Oblivion Gates nearly unguarded behind them.

Posted by: Olen Jun 12 2010, 06:08 PM

You show the prebattle tension well among the men through their actions and the dialogue. Again it brings the men alive which will make their coming deaths (at least for some I expect) meaningful to the reader. It also enhances the epic parts by showing what's going on in one place.

Great lore-friendly line.

My only nit would be that I'd like to see more of Pappy's own thoughts, though that's more a matter of personal taste.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Jun 12 2010, 06:53 PM

Oh man, like O said, the pre-battle tension was palpable! I could reach out and poke it with a finger (or two)!

No nits this time, just sheer enjoyment of an engrossing segment!

Posted by: D.Foxy Jun 13 2010, 04:21 AM

"And here I thought it was only women you couldn't keep your hands off of," Tadrose said dryly as she looked at Pappy. That brought a series of low chuckles and wan smiles from the other fighters, and the guild commander found he could not restrain one himself. "While you two have been playing, the dremora have been on the move. It's time for us to go."

That is how veteran soldiers shake off pre-battle tension- with a wisecrack or three.

Excellenct characterization.

Posted by: SubRosa Jun 14 2010, 04:14 PM

Olen: Thank you Olen. Worked for the netch reference. One of the disappointing things about Oblivion was that it did not have a whole slew of new animals like Morrowind did, with its netches, silt striders, guar, kwamas, etc...


haute ecole serpent rider: Thank you h.e.s.r.


D.Foxy: Thank you fox. That is the reason for all the joking and wisecracks you see in the earlier FG segments as well.


All: Next, the Bravil FG finally sees some real action.


* * *

Chapter 10g - The Battle Of Bruma

"You heard her ladyship people, let's move!" Pappy exclaimed. Jogging back to where he had left his stakes, he only paused to lift them under his arm before continuing out into the open field beyond. Turning back to look at the mercenaries and Blades issuing from the trees, he nodded his head toward the largest of the Oblivion Gates. "Follow me!"

His metal-clad feet pounded through the amber sea of wheat, the inferno of the Great Gate ever before his eyes. The butterflies he had felt before had now vanished, as they always did once he actually started doing something. He could hear the clattering of steel behind him, and he knew the others were close at his heels. As they finally drew near the golden plants around them vanished, and the dirt underfoot became blackened and hard, like the bottom of a campfire.

Now he could see a clump of Daedra around the gate. It was mostly dremora bearing maces, but there was a huge spider-creature among them as well. With the body of a giant arachnid, it possessed the torso of a pale, almost elven-looking woman. As if filled with nervous energy, it skittered back and forth through the ranks of dremora with surprising quickness for its bulk.

Thankfully they were all looking the other way, Pappy thought, toward where the battle was kicking up on the other side of their army. He raised his hand and stopped short, and heard the others do the same behind him. Wheeling about, he caught his breath and motioned them closer to him.

"Okay, here's the plan," he said, finding his wind again. "Julian, you and your Blades take all of the stakes from us. We're going to engage those fetchers up there. Don't stop to fight alongside us. Go straight to the Gate, drop the stakes, and then head inside."

"You heard the man," Julian said to the other Blades, who took the burden of the wooden stakes from the mercenaries.

"Now the rest of you meatheads," the guild commander said to his own people and pointed to a bare patch of field to the left of the gate. "Archers, I want you off to the side over there, where you can get a clean line of fire as we charge. Raminus, you go with them. We want to draw them away from the gate, so as soon as you get in position fire at will. With any luck, they'll charge you, and then we'll charge them. Alright, go!"

With that Hirtuleius, Corentin, and Seridwe, raced off to the side. Their recurved bows were in hand, and arrows clutched under their fingers. Raminus Polus followed, gnarled staff now gripped tightly in both hands. Under Pappy's direction, the rest of the guild members formed up into a line and drew their swords. Pulling his own double-edged blade, he stared at the runes etched down the length of its broad fuller. 'The Warrior's Wisdom is Hard Counsel' he had been told it read when the King of Skyrim had given it to him after Whiterun. Or as the old Nord had put it in his own tongue: Hardrada.

Raising the enchanted steel overhead, he stepped forward at a slow pace. He did not want to move too fast yet, he thought. The archers needed time to do their work first after all.

Then his eyes were dazzled by a brilliant flash of lightning across the plain before him. The bolt of energy sizzled into the torso of the spider daedra, and from there erupted into a ball of crackling power that engulfed the rest of the dremora as well. Even from where he stood, Pappy could feel his hairs stand on end, and an acrid stink filled his nostrils.

As the great blast of sparks died down, the guild commander could see that the Daedra were blackened and burned, but still very much alive. Arrows began to fall among them as they drew their weapons and turned to look about themselves. The guild commander picked up his pace, yet still did not break into a full run. The eyes of the dremora fell upon the archers as another blast of lightning flashed across the plain. Several of the monsters fell this time. Those that remained broke into a charge at the archers and vice magister.

With that Pappy let out a yell, pointing his sword at the Daedra as he veered off to intercept them. Glancing to either side, he could see that his fighters were with him, while Julian and her Blades continued to race directly to the now unguarded gate.

A bolt of lightning sprang from the hand of the spider daedra as her eight legs propelled her forward, far ahead of the dremora. Raminus staggered under the blast of energy, yet remained on his feet. Lowering his staff, he pointed it at the monster. A green spiral of energy wafted from the three gnarled ends of the stave and struck the spider daedra low in her bloated abdomen. She seemed to freeze then, and fell motionless to the blackened ground.

An eerie shriek pierced the guild commander's ears, and he saw Njall racing ahead of him toward the dremora. The hulking Nord had discarded what little clothing he had previously worn, and now raced stark naked with axe in hand. The blue ink of his tattoos glowed softly, and his lime-soaked hair looked hard as steel under the noon-day sun.

Not too many Nords left like that, Pappy thought, and a good thing too. The guild commander was just thankful that the madman was on his side. He could not imagine what the dremora might think when they saw him. They might even mistake him for one of their own!

They reached the Daedra before the monsters could close with the archers. Njall was the first, long-bladed axe flashing in the sun. Its mithril edge fell, and a Churl went with it. The Nord howled into the sky like a wolf, and took the time to strike the creature's head from its shoulders. Lifting his prize by one horn, the madman kissed it on the lips before flinging it at another of the dremora.

Then Pappy himself was among them. He punched with his shield as he barreled into the nearest monster. It staggered, and while the unholy creature was off-balance the guild commander stabbed low with Hardrada. Whatever supernatural metal comprised the dremora's armor, it could not stand up to the Atmoran sword's Disintegration enchantment. Feeling the ancient steel push into the dremora's stomach, Pappy twisted the blade and jerked it to one side as he pulled it out.

The monster fell to the ground, clutching at the innards that were spilling from its belly. Another bash with the steel rim of his shield sent it reeling onto its back. Then finally the middle-aged Imperial stepped forth and opened its throat with his sword.

Looking about himself, Pappy saw Valerius repeating his same punch and stab technique against another dremora. Yet his steel arming sword failed to pierce the monster's plate armor, and it merely staggered before the young Imperial. Pappy moved to help, raising his sword to strike.

But Tadrose Helas beat him to it. Closing in behind the dremora, the dark elf held her already bloody greatsword with one armored hand in a reversed grip on the hilt, and the other in the middle of the blade, as if it were a spear. Stabbing at the center of the monster's back, her longsword sank between the plates of the creature's armor. Fire erupted from her steel, and the elven characters at the base of the blade glowed red. The dremora went limp as a ragdoll, dropping its wickedly flanged mace and falling to the ground between Tadrose and Valerius.

Stopping short, Pappy looked about himself to find the fight was already over. Everywhere he gazed, Daedric corpses littered the field. His own people stood bloody, but strong over them. We took them by surprise, Pappy thought, the rest will not be so easy. There was no sense telling the others that however.

"See, what'd I tell you Valerius!" Pappy laughed, clapping his hand on the young man's shoulder. The youth nodded, his eyes aglow with the euphoria that comes from survival. One look into Tadrose's blazing crimson eyes showed him that she did not believe his bravado for a second. Thankfully, she was smart enough not to voice that knowledge.

"Anybody wounded?" Pappy now called out, eyes searching the group of mercenaries. When only shakes of their heads greeted him, he turned back to the Great Gate. There was no sign of Julian, or most of her Blades. As he watched, the last of them raced through the fiery portal and vanished into thin air. "Alright people, we aren't getting paid by the hour. Let's take that Gate and watch their backs!"

Posted by: D.Foxy Jun 14 2010, 04:46 PM

Regarding the Berserker, or more correctly, the Bare-Sarker: most historical records say they had to dance around and scream a bit before getting up the frenzy to shuck off their clothes and run straight at the enemy.

And most historical records show that 99% of them died after killing their first man. In real life, their use was mainly inspirational - they motivated the rest of the army to fight by their deaths.

Thankfully, the Bare-sarker here does not die.

Good armour-piercing techniques, which are also true to real life historical panzerbrecher technik. I am glad, however, that the dremora are not skilled in the more subtle ways of armour-fighting.

One of which is using a wrestling/judo technique of stepping out of the way and tripping a charging enemy in armour - while a trained soldier can fight surprisingly fast (at least in short bursts) in armour, no heavy armour soldier can rise quickly and smoothly off the ground when he has fallen.

This is why it is not a good idea to charge a skilled enemy who also has room to maneuver if you are wearing heavy armour. If you are so armoured, and you suspect your opponent is skilled, it is a much better idea to slow down ten paces from him and go up to his at a brisk walk.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Jun 14 2010, 05:43 PM

Very good description of CQ combat medieval style.

After fighting a few months in light armor, Julian will agree with Foxy's assessment about the cons of heavy armor.

Good work, as usual.

Posted by: Destri Melarg Jun 15 2010, 12:19 AM

Chapter 10f & 10g – The Battle of Bruma

I enjoyed everything about the last two chapters! It is such a pleasure to experience these events from the perspective of those caught in the sweep of history. From Pappy’s motivational techniques with Paol to Njall’s broken field scamper, everything was perfectly described. I especially liked how you made the engagement as chaotic and violent as it was brief. I’d say that you have satisfied the testosterone requirements of your male readers!

I don't imagine that fact makes it onto the recruiting poster in the mead-hall!

Posted by: D.Foxy Jun 16 2010, 05:24 PM

I don't imagine that fact makes it onto the recruiting poster in the mead-hall!

Actually, you can't recruit bare-sarkers....they themselves, most of the time, don't know they are bare-sarkers until the battle commences, and the 'fit' seizes them.

In battles against enemy shield walls 99% of the baresarkers died at once. Against a line of spears, no amount of speed and ferocity can make up for a lack of armour.

One little-known fact is that only highly trained, professional soldiers can summon the courage to walk into an unbroken line of waiting spears. If the shield-wall is unbroken and the spears are long, to do so is death...for the front line, at least. This was why the Greek and Macedonian Phalanxes reigned supreme, until the Romans found a way to break the phalanx by hurling Javelins (throwing spears) into the phalanx (at close range, the weight of the spear makes it much, much more deadlier than the arrow) and then charging in with the deadly shortsword into the broken shieldwall.

In the Nordic Armies, which did not have the professional drill of the Greek Phalanx, it was not unusual for two shield walls to stand at fifty paces range for three or four hours, shouting curses at each other, but refusing to fight as they did not have the courage to charge.

This was where the bare-sarkers came in.

Fuelled by a combination of psychogical instability, drugs, alcohol, the promise of a glorious afterlife in Valhalla after death, and the awe of others, they would dance about while the drums pounded louder and louder, and work themselves up into a frenzy. At the height of the frenzy they would suddenly strip off their clothes and armour and charge straight into the enemy line to kill one or two enemies while dying a glorious death.

Their contempt for death would spur the rest of the army to charge, and then the true slaughter would begin.

Posted by: Acadian Jun 16 2010, 06:07 PM

Several chapters, and all caught up again. I love Teresa's 'bird's eye view' carefully punctuated with Pappy's mud and blood perspective. Pappy's brief tussle was a perfect touch. I was delighted to see Tadrose again - and so wonderfully portrayed - yes, she should have her own guild. The brief mention of our Julian was yet another treat.

It seems you went for epic here and certainly succeeded. Well done, and an exciting pleasure to read!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - (Teresa) - - - - - -

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Posted by: SubRosa Jun 16 2010, 09:40 PM

D.Foxy: Njall is not really based on the Norse berserkers, but rather on the Celtic Gaesatae. Hence the tattoos, quicklimed hair, and fighting naked. It is only the name, and the Danish war axe that are norse about him. Unlike most naked people however, he is much better armored, thanks to his tattoos. As far as his life expectancy goes, well, no one in the Bravil Guild has a very long one...

Perhaps you should start a Blades, Fights, and Assassins topic here?


haute ecole ouroboros: Thank you h.e.o.

Heavy armor and light armor both have pros and cons depending on the situation. In pitched battles, where you have to hold your place in the line no matter what (meaning very little ability to maneuver), and you may not even see the person who attacks you, heavy armor is a goddessend. The mail armor and helmets that the Romans wore are a big reason why they conquered most of the Celts, who by comparison typically wore no armor at all, and only had a body shield for defense. A blow that would only stagger a Roman, if even that, was mortal to a Celt. It is ironic, seeing that the Romans got their armor from the Celts to begin with (they were much more advanced in metallurgy than the Romans).

On the other hand in individual fighting like duels, or most of the things you would see an adventurer in the ES games, there is typically plenty of room to move around, and use speed and agility to your advantage in a fight. The Celts and Germans often did well in raids against the Romans because of this. In fact, cattle-raiding was a huge part of the Celtic warrior's reason for existing.


Destri Melarg: Thank you Destri. I wanted to show Pappy's charisma in 10f, and finally get him and the others in some action in 10g. Because it was essentially two groups charging into one another, I wanted it to seem chaotic.


Acadian: Wednesday is Acadian day! Thank you Acadian. It was good to write Tadrose again. I am hoping to add a little more insight into the mystery that is Tadrose Helas with this chapter Or perhaps just more layers to the onion... I love the vikings and the wizard!


All: This next segment will be a little on the big side, but there was no good place to cut it without going really short, or breaking in the middle of the later action. Speaking of which, the second half begins with an homage to a classic western.


* * *

Chapter 10h - The Battle Of Bruma

As the final, massive line of dremora began their march forward, the Redguard cavalry galloped out to meet them on the right of the human army. The light horsemen rode up to the approaching lines of Daedric soldiers and began pelting them with javelins. Teresa saw that it did not take long at all before the footborne dremora began to break ranks and race out to try to come to grips with the Redguards. Yet the riders easily danced their horses out of reach, goading the dremora to follow.

Before they were halfway across the space between armies the entire left flank of the dremora host broke into a charge upon the light cavalrymen. The Redguards fled toward the open plain to the south, with the Daedra streaming after them in a mob.

With a sound of trumpets, the heavy legionary cavalry and knights spurred their mounts forward. The thunder of their hooves added to the already terrific din of battle, yet few of the dremora paid them any heed, so intent were they upon chasing their Redguard tormentors. The heavy cavalry smashed into the disorganized mass of soldiers with an even louder crash of mortal steel upon supernatural metal, mixed in with Imperial cheers of victory and Daedric cries of anguish.

Rank upon rank dremora went down under the avalanche, and now the Redguards finally turned their lighter mounts and charged themselves. Drawing their swords, they added their own steel to the clash of arms as they cut down the disorganized footmen left and right.

Yet Teresa saw that when the charge had finally lost its impetus, there were still dremora remaining, so deep had been their line. Now the horsemen, stopped in their tracks, traded blows with monsters that began to slowly crowd around them. The knights, in their ebony and glass armor, pounded away at the gathering hordes with near impunity. The legionary cavalry fared nearly as well in their heavy plate. The Redguards however, suffered greatly in their lighter armor, and soon many of their dead littered the field underfoot.

By that time the rest of the dremora army reached the leading elements of the Imperial foot, the Fifth Legion, whose high crested helms made them easy to distinguish from the other legionaries. The Imperials fought as stoutly and expertly as she had seen before, yet the greater numbers of the dremora soon began to push them backward across the wheat fields.

* * *

"Hey Pappy, how come they don't have to dig?" asked Vincent Galien. Barely two weeks in the guild, and he bellyached like a ten year veteran, Pappy thought to himself as he pounded a stake into the ground. Before he could open his mouth to reply, Hirtuleius did.

"Because there are two kinds of people in this world son," the grey-haired Imperial explained, "those who have bows, and those who dig."

That brought a few chuckles from the other mercenaries, who along with Pappy and Vincent were busy creating a fence of sharpened stakes. Rather than rising straight from the ground, the pickets jutted out at an angle, their ends at roughly chest level. Surrounding the rapidly growing barrier were Raminus and the three archers, Hirtuleius, Corentin, and Seridwe, all with arrows nocked and ready to fire from their recurved bows. Directly behind them rose the fires of the Great Gate itself, bathing them all in its red-orange light, and hot enough to bring sweat to all their brows, even those not digging.

"Shouldn't we be doing this on the inside of the Gate, where they won't see us?" young Valerius asked.

"It would be a one-way trip if we did," Pappy explained as he finished driving one stake into the ground and picked up another. "Only people near the Sigil Stone come back when you take it and close the Gate. Someone got left behind at Kvatch because of that."

"Damn," Aissa murmured, "That's a hard piece of luck."

"They'd see the dead bodies of the dremora guarding the Gate and come looking anyway." Paol added in. "Besides, better to fight on our own turf."

"Someone's taken an interest in us." Pappy looked up at Seridwe's words. To the north, a group of dremora guarding the nearest normal-sized Oblivion Gate were looking at them and gesturing. The twang of a bowstring sounded out, and seconds later one of them fell with a feathered shaft buried deep in its chest.

"Dammit Seri, hold your fire until they actually attack! You want to run out of ammo before we even start?" Pappy cursed, dropping the stake he had been holding and reaching for his sword. Now the dremora - more Churls from the maces they carried - let out an eerie howl. Flame spat from the staff which one carried, and a moment later erupted in a ball of fire that engulfed Pappy and half the mercenaries.

He had just enough time to raise his shield over his eyes as the flames broke over him. Heat seared through every joint of his armor, and the guild commander gritted his teeth. Damn, he cursed, even with the Fire Shield on his orcish shield and the Ring of Firewalking he wore, that still hurt. Damn his Trollkin blood…

"Archers, finish off that mage!" he heard Tadrose Helas yell from nearby.

Being a Dunmer, she probably barely noticed the flames, Pappy thought to himself as he rose and drew his sword. Waving the blade over his head, he raced to the side of the half-constructed barricade that faced the dremora. "Form a line on me!" he yelled. "Fighters Guild to me!"

His hair stood on end as the crackle of nearby lightning filled his ears. Brilliant light danced across the field, striking deeply into the oncoming dremora ranks. More arrows followed. Glancing to the side, he saw that Raminus Polus was standing beside him, and Valerius next to the mage. Paol stood at his other shoulder, then Morning-Star.

A blood-curdling scream filled his ears as the pale form of Njall vaulted effortlessly over the fence of stakes. Tattoos glowing soft blue, the wild Nord pelted across the scorched ground toward the oncoming dremora.

"Cacat no!" Pappy shouted after the battle-crazed man. "Get back here you fetcher! Stand in line!"

Yet even as he screamed, Pappy knew the Nord would not stop his charge. Either he could not hear when the battle-fury was upon him, or he simply did not care. The guild commander had never really been sure which it was. So the berserker fell into the mass of dremora with axe waving high in the air. His initial rush brought down one of the Churls. But the other dremora clustered around him, maces flashing in the midday sun. The Shield enchantment of the Nord's tattoos flashed as their blows landed, turning many harmlessly away. But some of the impacts overwhelmed his magical defense, and soon he staggered under the onslaught, dropping his axe from a shattered hand. Then he vanished within a crowd of dremora.

"Aissa no!" came Paol's shout. Turning, Pappy saw that now the Redguard was racing out from behind the barricade of stakes and into the open field. Her mithril armor shone brightly, as did the meteoric glass blade of her arming sword. Half of the Churls now turned on her, and in spite of the arrows and bolts of lightning that fell among them, she fell even quicker than the Nord had.

"Nobody leave the line you damned dreck-headed fetchers!" Pappy now yelled, turning this way and that to see the looks of horror upon the faces of his guild mates. "I swear I'll personally kill the next one of you buggers who does! We stand together, or die apart, like they did!"

Moments later the dremora charge was upon them. Their front ranks tried to dodge around the stakes leveled directly at their chest. Yet the rear ranks crowded so eagerly behind that some were impaled upon the spikes anyway. Standing in one of the openings in the unfinished fence, Pappy raised his shield to deflect a mace aimed at his head. Hardrada's reply sent the Churl reeling away with a bleeding shoulder.

Lightning crackled and sizzled to one side of him, as Raminus sent blasts of magical energy into the oncoming dremora from behind the safety of the stakes. One of the Daedra clambered over the forest of spikes and sent a mace at his head, and the vice-magister clumsily attempted to deflect the blow his staff. The magician's form was far from expert however, and the heavy blow landed soundly upon his shoulder. Raminus barely noticed however, and the mace bounced off the soft cloth of his mage's robe as if it were made of the hardest ebony.

He's learned not to rely upon Shield spells, Pappy thought to himself, one Dispel and they are gone. The guild commander still remembered the goblin shaman who had done that to the magician so many years ago…

Pappy moved over to help the mage, but a moment later the Imperial laid a hand on the dremora's chest. Sparks flew from his fingers, and the corpse of the Oblivion-spawn went hurtling back across the fence of stakes.

Then another dremora came at Pappy, and once again the guild commander deflected the mace with his shield. Making a show of staggering back, he saw the monster draw back his weapon to strike with all of its might. The ghost of a smile crossed Pappy's lips as his own arm exploded forward, driving Hardrada's tip though the Churl's unarmored throat, its wide blade nearly severing the dremora's head.

There were no more dremora in front of him then. Looking to either side, he saw that what remained of the Daedra were fleeing across the field, arrows chasing them. Gulping for breath, he looked over his own people. Morning-Star was nursing a bloody arm, and Valerius was swaying on his feet. Otherwise the rest of them seemed hale and whole. Except for Njall and Aissa, he thought darkly.

"Hold on there Raminus," Pappy said to the vice magister, who was raising his hand to cast a spell at the fleeing dremora. "We've got wounded."

Nodding toward the wounded men, Pappy followed the magister to the Argonian. The guild commander expertly stripped away the armor around lizardine's forearm, even as Morning-Star insisted it was not serious. White pieces of bone poked from the scales underneath, and Pappy held the Argonian still as the vice magister first set the bone, then healed it with a white light that sprang up from over the Argonian's head and fell about him in a disc of energy.

By then Tadrose had put the rest of the mercenaries back to the task of planting stakes. Except for Valerius, whose helmet she had eased from his head to display a black and blue goose egg beneath his dark hair. Another spell of Raminus' made that vanish, and moment later he was back into line with the others and hard at work.

The vice magister swayed on his feet himself then, and Pappy put out a hand to steady the other Imperial. Casting a critical eye upon the magician, the guild commander did not see any wounds. Rather the other man simply looked exhausted. Lifting one of the water skins from his hips, he offered it to the mage.

"Thanks old friend," Raminus said, after taking a long gulp. "Healing others takes a lot out of me, it does everyone."

"Well, then you aren't going to like what I have tell you," Pappy began, glancing darkly at Calva before turning his gaze back to Raminus. "We don't have as many healing potions as I expected we would. I'm going to need you primarily on healing duty from here on out. Stay back from the line and just keep us going with those Convalescence spells. Don't fight unless you absolutely have to."

"But you know I can hit harder than anyone else here," Raminus protested. "I'm supposed to be the big right hand, remember?"

"I remember," Pappy said, feeling irritation bubbling up through his lips. "But defense is going to win this game, not offense. No matter how many of these fetchers we kill there's going to be a thousand more. We need staying power if we're going to keep them from getting back into that Gate and going after Julian. And if she drops the ball, then we need to have enough left to stop that Siege Crawler. Otherwise it's Kvatch all over again."

Posted by: haute ecole rider Jun 16 2010, 11:14 PM

Excellent! I'm going to have to refer to this chapter when I write my own!

And I can assure Pappy that Julian will not drop the ball!

Calva is still alive? Hmph! I doubt he'll last the next segment!

As for your comments on heavy vs. light armor, agreed on all points.

Posted by: D.Foxy Jun 17 2010, 02:05 AM

I thought someone had stuck four feet of sword up that fetcher Calva's keister already....seems like the FG is getting soft, these days...

Hey, Rosa, let me do an Acadian on you and point out -

"...he saw the monster loaf of bread back his weapon to strike with all of its might..."

NOW I WONDER WHAT VERB WOULD SEEM SO TERRIBLE TO THE AUTOCENSOR TO MAGICALLY TURN IT INTO A LOAF OF BREAD!!!




I see that you have absorbed my notes about battle lines and baresarkers into your story. EXCELLENT. Realism rules!!!!

Yes. The line and discipline in holding the line was the beginning, and end, of battle training and discipline in the old days.

Posted by: Acadian Jun 17 2010, 02:26 AM

Wow! It all really came together here! Big picture, little picture, mud & blood, old relationships. Wonderfully done!

Some of my favorite parts:

QFT

What a wonderful poignant memory of Julian having to leave Menien behind. Heartbreaking.

I love the fact that Pappy and Raminus are old friends! I also enjoyed how you highlighted the draining effects of casting healing spells.

Posted by: SubRosa Jun 18 2010, 04:10 PM

the worm hauteboros: Thank you hatue. Please feel free to use anything you like from here in OHDH.

Funny you should mention Calva, his fate will be decided in this segment.


D.Foxy: Ahh, once more I forgot that the board does not like it when someone roostered their arm back. Thank you for pointing out my whole grains.

Actually, Njall and Aissa's deaths were like that from the start. That was meant to show one of the weaknesses of the Fighters Guild as a whole. Except for those who are former legion, they are not really trained, nor have experience in, large set-piece battles. Rather I envision them being accustomed to working either alone, or in very small groups. They are warriors rather than soldiers, much like the dremora. This is why later in the TF we will see Pappy drilling the new Bravil Guild an hour a day in formation fighting.


Acadian: Thank you A. I am glad you caught the reference to Julian having to leave Goneld behind, because that is exactly what I was thinking. Likewise with the Good, Bad, and the Ugly line.

Pappy knowing Raminus is something I worked out a long time ago, when I was doing background on Saya Aren. When Raminus was a fresh graduate from the AU, he did a study on goblins, in which he needed live subjects to study. So the legion had to capture a tribe of goblins for him, and Pappy, also a fresh-faced centurion, led the century that got the job. I am sure a lot of sparks flew before they finally came to an understanding with one another. Later in the TF there will be an FG mission against goblins, and the things they discovered will be put to good use.


All: We are getting near the end now. This has been one long chapter. My longest ever in fact.

* * *

Chapter 10i - The Battle Of Bruma

Teresa saw both lines now fully engaged. On the right the cavalry were locked in melee combat with the dremora footmen. Moving to the left, the three legions were likewise slugging it out with the monsters. The Fifth Legion, with their distinctive plumed helmets, were plainly struggling. Teresa was not surprised, as they had been the first of the infantry to engage the enemy, and thusly had been in the battle the longest. After them the other two legions held, but their line was far thinner than that of the Oblivion-spawn, and was slowly being pushed back. At the far left, the mail-clad guardsmen of Bruma were visibly crumbling under the onslaught of the more heavily armed and armored Daedra.

She saw riders streaming back and forth from the knot of soldiers which the Emperor was a part of. Yet they did not ride up to him, but rather reported to the Imperial soldier who wore the red sash around his waist and held the ivory baton in his hand. He must be the general, Teresa imagined, since he was plainly the one directing the battle.

That surprised her, for she would have expected Martin to be in command. Maybe he's not a soldier, Teresa thought to herself as she winged over the battlefield. In any case, he must really trust the other man to lead the army for him. She did not have to be told what would befall if they lost, which seemed to be happening.

The riders leaving the general galloped to the small knots of warriors still waiting behind the lines. With a mismatch of armor and weapons, she once more guessed that they must be either a local militia or mercenaries. Dipping low over one such group, she noticed that the better equipped ones wore medallions on their chests, in the form a red shield with a white sword pointing downward across it. The Fighters Guild, she realized, having seen that symbol before on their guild hall in the Arena District.

A moment after the arrival of the riders, the groups of warriors finally charged forward, stiffening the city guard to the far left and the Fifth Legion on the right. That seemed to give the dremora line pause, at least for the time being. Yet now Teresa could see the Imperial army had nothing left to throw into the battle if things went badly.

Flying back across the Daedric line and over many large clumps of their dremora soldiers still unengaged behind it, something strange caught Teresa's beady raven's eye. There was fighting around the base of the largest gateway, yet who could be there, in the very rear of the entire Oblivion army?

Flying closer, she saw that there was a circle of wooden stakes buried into the ground, and the corpses of many Daedra hung from their points. Yet many more dremora were swarming through the gaps in the spikes, or hacking away the timbers to force wider openings. Within a polyglot band of men and women were fighting for their lives against the attacking monsters.

As she dove lower, she saw one dremora was larger than the others, and carried a massive war hammer in both hands. Striding up behind a warrior clad in a mixture of orcish and legionary plate, the dremora lifted its hammer over its head to deliver a crushing blow upon the unsuspecting man.

Teresa poured on all the speed she could muster from her ebon wings and swooped down upon the pair. Opening her beak, she blasted forth the loudest cry of warning that her avian lungs could call up.

* * *

Pappy did not know what made him turn, pure luck, some sixth sense of danger, or perhaps even the intervention of the gods. He did not waste time musing on the answer, because he saw a tall dremora standing directly behind him with a two-handed hammer raised over his head. The great metal weapon had already begun its downward stroke, and the guild commander screamed at himself to move as he pushed his armor-clad frame out of the way.

He felt the whoosh of air as the great block of Daedric steel passed mere inches from his head, only to thud heavily into the ground underfoot a moment later. Without thinking, Pappy punched his shield into the over-extended dremora's shoulder, pushing it even further off-balance. Hardrada followed, easily sundering the mail under the monster's armpit and sinking deeply into the flesh beneath. Giving the double-edged blade a vicious twist, he pulled it out. A moment later he finished the creature - whom he now realized must be a Markynaz or Valkynaz.

Turning, he saw that the dremora had finally gotten into the barricade. Cacat! he cursed, now they were in it for certain! Cutting down another dremora, he made his way toward where he saw Vincent was desperately trying to fend off a pair of swordsmen. As he watched helplessly, the Breton was too slow on his guard and a jagged arming sword fell upon his head.

The yellow light of his guild medallion's Shield enchantment flashed, and the steel of the Breton's helmet held. Still, Vincent staggered back, lowering his shield. The second dremora brought his blade down for a killing blow a moment later.

It was blocked by Calva's Dwemer shield. The Imperial stepped in front of the youthful Breton and traded blows with the Kynval. Then the first dremora thrust from the side, under Calva's shield, and skewered him in the guts in spite of both armor and enchantment. The Imperial fell a moment later, as the Daedra tore out the blade and spilled his intestines across the ground.

Then Pappy had reached them, the sound of Calva's screams lending strength to his arm. Hardrada shattered the shield of Calva's slayer with one blow of its enchanted blade. His next swing took the dremora's sword hand, and the creature fled out of reach. Turning to deal with the other Kynval, he saw that Vincent stood breast to breast with the monster, too close for either to use their swords. As Pappy moved in, the Breton neatly tripped the dremora after working a foot behind its ankle and shoving with his shield. The guild commander followed it up with a thrust to the creature's throat, finishing it.

Calva had gone silent, and Pappy turned to see that a dremora stood over the Imperial's corpse, bloody sword in hand. Well, the Imperial thought, that at least saved him the trouble of doing it himself. Not that he was going to thank the dremora for it.

Their eyes locked, and the guild commander feinted at the monster's head. The Kynval was too wily to fall for the trick, and easily pushed aside Pappy's real strike a moment later. It followed with a stroke at his head, which Pappy effortlessly parried on his shield.

Then a moment later it fell, and Pappy saw another dremora standing behind it with a bloody sword and a look that might have been satisfaction crossing its infernal features. "Many of them have old scores to settle with one another." The words of Arentus Falvius echoed in his mind.

Pappy did not waste time. Instead he barreled forward, smashing his shield against the creature's body. The dremora was ready however, and was able to brace himself against the Imperial's charge. The two stood chest to chest, too close for either to use their swords.

"On your belly mortal!" The dremora's voice was like razorblades scraping across steel plate. It dropped its sword and drew forth a serrated dagger. Pappy let Hardrada fall as well, and reached out to grasp the dremora's wrist in time to stop the point from skewering his face. Yet the dremora was taller than he was, and was using that leverage to slowly push the supernatural blade closer and closer toward the Y-shaped slit in his legion helmet.

Pappy twisted his body, working his right foot in front of the dremora's own. Sweeping the dremora's feet back, at the same time he pivoted from his hip and pulled the monster forward. Already using all of its strength to push in that direction, the Daedra went flying over the guild commander and crashed to the scorched ground behind him. Drawing his own dagger from his hip, Pappy fell upon the monster and drove it through one of the eye slits in its helmet.

"Fighters! Rally on me!" Pappy rose to his feet and shouted as loud as he could. Gathering up Hardrada, he waved for the other fighters to join him. "Back to back, form a circle!"

At his words the other warriors backed away from the smashed barricades and formed into a knot with Raminus Polus at its center. Standing shoulder to shoulder, with the mage casting healing spells on each as they suffered a wound, they fended off the dremora assault. When the Oblivion-spawn finally withdrew, Pappy looked around and had to resist a groan at the sight.

Seridwe lay motionless on the crisped dirt, glassy eyes staring at the sky overhead. Her armor was rent under the left breast, washing her abdomen and legs with blood. At the other side of the circle lay Paol, his orcish armor stove in and chest crushed beneath it.

The work of the Markynaz, Pappy thought as he closed his eyes. It must have gotten Paol before coming after him. Damn, damn, damn! he cursed. What had he led them into?

"If I should fall to rise no more,
as many comrades did before.
Ask the pipes and drums to play,
over the hills and far away"

The soft voice of Hirtuleius came to his ears. Fighting back the tears that were forming in his eyes, Pappy looked over at the Imperial. The other man was kneeling down next to the body of J'sharr, whose head was nowhere to be seen.

Hirtuleius rose to his feet, and Pappy could see the other man was indeed weeping. Then the archer's Shield enchantment flashed yellow as the black feathers of an arrow sprouted from the Imperial's throat. A look of shock crossed the grey-haired man's face as he collapsed, grasping for the arrow that had taken his life.

"Cover!" Pappy shouted, dropping to his knees and raising his shield. He heard a thunk! and felt the shock of impact as one of the missiles impacted into the enchanted wood of his shield.

"Shields up, form a wall!" he cried out, and the remaining fighters did as he commanded. Even Tadrose snatched up a dremora shield. Kneeling down in front of Raminus, she held the protective screen above the two of them as the mage fumbled through his pockets.

"Leave them to me!" the magician cried, drawing forth a magicka gem. The long, jagged crystal glowed with a soft blue light. The vice magister briefly closed his eyes in concentration, and that energy flowed into him. Then the stone turned to dust beneath his fingers. A moment later he rose from behind Tadrose's shield and thrust his hand out. A storm burst from his hand, and the arrows stopped coming.

Pappy looked up at twin fangs of black rock that loomed above him, and the wall of brilliant energy that shone between them. Where in the blazes was Julian? he wondered.

Posted by: D.Foxy Jun 18 2010, 05:08 PM

Wrestling trips and throws!!! YESSSSSS!!!!

And the scent and taste of battle. REALISM RULES!!!!


And so does Rosa...ROSA RULES!!!

Posted by: Remko Jun 18 2010, 05:17 PM

Oh my... that was beautifulterribleawesomegruesome....
For someone who doesn't really like writing combat, can I just say you do it very empathically.

Posted by: Olen Jun 18 2010, 06:21 PM

Well I'm caught up now and that was indeed excellent. The contrast between Teresa's detatched tone and Pappy's very much on the ground and gritty one kept both fresh and having Teresa get involved was a nice touch.

Thumbs up for realism too, and for brutality; the fighters are lasting about as long as would be likely. Developing them and the atmosphere before is certainly paying off now.

I can't wait to see this resolved.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Jun 18 2010, 07:04 PM

The battle reaches a peak! And what an awesome peak it is! The view is magnificent from there.

I did spot a nit:

Viscous refers to thick liquid (like syrup). I think vicious would be better in this context, it means brutal. Also, this sentence reads like a fragment. Maybe you meant to make it part of the one that follows, or like this: Giving the double-edged blade a vicious twist, he pulled it out.

But whoo, pure adrenaline! No one needs any of that overrated Redguard rush stuff - reading this segment is enough by itself!

Posted by: Destri Melarg Jun 19 2010, 01:33 AM

This is simply damn good writing! I especially like the way that you depicted the deaths of Calva and Hirtuleius. One man dies while bravely shielding a comrade, the other dies suddenly from the arrow that you never see coming. I can’t think of a better commentary on the heat of battle than that.

Posted by: D.Foxy Jun 19 2010, 02:17 AM

Hwut he said!

Posted by: Acadian Jun 19 2010, 03:39 AM

The overall impact here of power, blood, tears was magnificent. Some of your very best - and that says alot! Now, you know I like Teresa doing chick stuff, but my goodness, this was great!

Some little bits that stood out:

Indeed, it makes all the sense in the world that the guild would have a hall in the IC and where better there than the Arena District?

Oh, this makes my teeth hurt so good. Wonderful!

Magnificent, or jaw dropping (take your choice) are the only words that will do for this transition!

A nit, maybe? Did you mean to refer to him as 'the Martin'? I guess I can see that perhaps, but I suspect an earler draft may have said 'the Emperor' and you changed it to Martin, overlooking the 'the'?

Posted by: SubRosa Jun 20 2010, 05:45 PM

D.Foxy: Thank you Fox. Pappy's throw was a Judo move that I found a video to. Of course now I have forgotten the name! Vincent's was a pretty standard trip. Just as in reality, I am sure grappling would be an important part of both legion and fighter's guild training.


Remko: Thank you Remko. I am one of those "less is more" kind of people. I prefer to keep things like fighting to a minimum, so that when it does happen it carries more impact.


Olen: Thank you Olen. I am glad the switching between distant and up-close povs is working.


haute ecoleboros: Thank you h.e.o. Thank you for the serpentine eye. You were quite right on both counts.


Destri Melarg: No more horn? Thank you Dest. I wanted to give Calva a heroic death so that he did not come across as a one-dimensional villain. While with Hirtuleius I wanted to show the pure randomness of death in gigantic battles.


Acadian: Thank you A. In the TF, the Arena district is where the low rent housing is in the IC (not counting the Waterfront, which is a pure ghetto and far worse.) With the Arena being there, it felt like a natural for the FG to have its headquarters nearby. Likewise, I figure that is where all the brothels are in the IC as well (prostitutes actually have a guild. I read about it in the History of the Fighter's Guild book in the game).

I am glad you liked that transition between Teresa and Pappy. I wanted to do something to give her some form of personal involvement in the battle, rather than having her being a purely neutral observer.

Good eye on that nit. You were exactly right, I had said "the Emperor" in a previous edit.


All: Now the thrilling conclusion to the Battle of Bruma, which I believe includes the coolest entrance I have ever written in the TF.

* * *

Chapter 10j - The Battle Of Bruma

The sound of hooves came to Teresa's raven ears, drawing her attention from the fighters clustered about the Great Gate. Flying up to see better, she found that the heavy cavalry on the right had cleared the flank of dremora and reformed into a tight line facing north, directly at the exposed left side of the Daedric army.

With a blare of trumpets, the knights and mounted legionaries moved forward. First at a walk, but steadily picking up speed until they finally thundered across the field in a full charge. Those few who still had lances lowered them as they approached the Daedra. However, most raised swords, axes, and hammers in their armored fists instead.

They crashed into the exposed flank of the dremora and smashed it utterly. Continuing on, they pushed their way along the Daedric line, the infantrymen of the Fifth Legion now moving in beside them. The entire thing reminded Teresa of a carpet being slowly rolled up, and her heart leaped within the bounds of her avian chest.

Yet the sound of drums smothered her rising exultation. Now she saw those bands of dremora still behind the Oblivion army running forward, directly into the heavy cavalry. The flanking movement ground to a halt when it met the fresh dremora troops, and now both armies stood locked together in desperate combat.

Yet Teresa could see that it was the Daedra who had the upper hand. They still vastly outnumbered the Imperial host, and once again were slowly but surely pressing the humans back. It would take a miracle to save them now, Teresa glumly realized.

Now she saw that some of the officers behind the Imperial line rode forward and to the right. Winging her way in that direction, she found that it was the Blades, with the Emperor in the lead. He had taken up the great gold and red dragon banner and was waving it over his head as he spurred his horse into a gallop, leading it directly into the melee on the right.

"Stand with your Emperor!" she could hear him cry out as she swooped over him. "Stand with me friends!"

* * *

Pappy lifted one hand over his head, concentrating upon the image of a snarling troll in his mind. Gathering up his magicka into a tight spot within his fist, he opened his fingers and let it go. The white energy fell around him in a halo, and the pain of his wounds vanished behind it.

Looking about himself, he saw that Tadrose and Vincent were both battered and bleeding. They were not so lucky as he to have born under the sign of the Lord, he thought, and have the powerful healing ability it conferred. Still, they too used the healing spells they knew, imitating his motions, but having less dramatic results. Raminus was worst of all, laying unconscious between the trio with his head soaked in blood. Yet at least the magister's chest still rose and fell, unlike the rest of Pappy's guild.

Looking out across the heaps of Daedric corpses that surrounded them, the Imperial could make out those of his friends as well. Morning-Star, Corentin, Valerius, all lay dead with the others of his chapter. Only he, Tadrose, and Vincent were left. None of them had run, he thought, none and wavered. Not even Calva. All had given their lives without hesitation.

A strange noise came to his ears, like a grinding of metal upon metal, mixed in with the whoosh of flames, and the faint screaming of the dying. A shadow fell across the three fighters, and along with the others, Pappy looked up into the sky above them. Debouching itself from the Oblivion Gate behind them was the rounded end of what seemed like a metal pole. Except Pappy had never seen a pole that was twenty feet wide and bore rotating, jagged spikes along its length. A brilliant red-orange fire burned at the very tip of the protruding mass, as if were molten steel. As he watched, it slowly pushed farther and farther out of the gate, casting a long shadow beneath it.

Pappy did not need to be told what that was. The Daedric Siege Crawler. It could mean only one thing. Julian and her Blades and failed. This was the end.

"Well this is just great!" the guild commander heard Vincent exclaim beside him. "What's next? The damned Daedric Prince?"

"We've got to find a way to destroy that thing." Pappy breathed, tightening his fist around Hardrada's whalebone grip. Tadrose and Vincent stood at either of his shoulders, weapons also at the ready. Pappy felt his heart soar. There were no better people in the world, he thought proudly, no one better to die with.

Something happened to the gate then. The twin columns of stone that rose on either of its flanks began to groan and shudder. Cracks appeared through their lengths, and piece after piece broke off and fell into the center of the burning energy between them. Then each stone fang gave way completely, collapsing into the middle of the swirling mass of fire. Even the Siege Crawler shuddered and began to fall backward into the gate, its metal surface twisting and distorting where it touched the red light.

"Mara!" Pappy heard Tadrose murmur beside him.

The Great Gate collapsed into a bright point of light. Pappy was not sure what prompted him, but he turned and pulled his two companions away, throwing the three of them to the ground. There was a rush of heat overhead, and the entire world went bright red, even through his closed eyelids. The ground shook beneath them, and he felt himself thrown into the air.

When the world finally swam back into focus, Pappy found himself and the others at least twenty paces away from where the Great Gate had stood. Now the only thing left to mark its existence was the twisted and smoldering ruin of the front half of the Daedric Siege Crawler.

Standing beside it was Julian of Anvil, her white hair streaming out behind her. She held her katana in one hand, and clutched a gigantic orb close to her breast with the other. It seemed to be comprised of energy that constantly churned beneath her fingers, and made a noise that was a cross between the grinding of metal upon metal and the screeching of tortured souls.

* * *

Even from where she flew over the Emperor, Teresa could see the great gate collapse upon itself. The brilliant explosion that followed tossed her through the air, and she only barely managed to regain control of her wings before crashing to the ground. She saw the massed armies were staggered as well, and slowly rose to their feet to witness the same thing she did. The Great Gate had been destroyed!

At the Emperor's exhortations, the knights and legionaries renewed their attack upon the Daedra, who now faltered. Yet even now the dremora did not break, and after giving ground near the Emperor for long minutes, they slowly began to push back once more.

They were still not beaten, Teresa despaired, now flying behind the Daedric army to where the Great Gate had once stood. She saw only a handful of mortals remained within the ruins of the circle of stakes. Yet now there was one among them that she recognized. With her long white hair, she was easy to spot. Julian of Anvil, The Hero of Kvatch.

Where had she come from? Teresa wondered, and what was that strange, glowing sphere that she cradled in one arm?

Then a line of dust along the northern horizon caught her attention. As she turned in that direction, the sound of trumpets rang out from the same area. Swooping closer, Teresa could now see a line of horsemen in legionary armor riding nearer. Their dragon standards swept out in the wind behind them, and their lances glittered in the sun. Behind them came a long column of infantry, also at a run. There were thousands of them, Teresa saw, and they were charging directly into the rear of the Daedric army!

* * *

"Back to back!" Pappy cried. A group of at least thirty dremora was closing in on them. Probably drawn by the destruction of the gate, he imagined. "Julian, get in the center with Raminus!"

"I can fight!" the Redguard protested.

"We can't let them get their hands on that!" Pappy nodded at the Great Sigil Stone she cradled to her chest. "If they do, this is all for nothing."

With that the Redguard allowed the guild commander and the others to crowd in around her. A few moments later the first of the dremora were upon them. As ever, Hardrada served him well as it sundered even the best dremora armor under its Atmoran edge. Likewise, his combination of enchanted legion plate and orcish steel stood up to most of the Daedric blows. Most.

But he knew it was only a matter of time before they were overwhelmed. Already Vincent and Tadrose were faltering. It was only Julian's own katana licking out behind the two that saved them time and again. How long could they hold out? Pappy wondered.

The sound of thunder came to his ears, louder even than the din coming off the Great Sigil Stone. A moment later the ground began to tremble, and trumpets blasted nearby. Then a terrific crashing of metal on metal came to his ears, mixed in with the pounding of horse's hooves and screams of dremora.

"Kvatch! Kvatch! Kvatch!" came battlecries from all around, and the dremora were slaughtered in whirlwind of lances and swords. Horses galloped past in a blur, men in dark legion plate astride them. A great dragon standard came to a halt over their heads, silk windsock trailing out behind it in the breeze. Legio X was written across the plaque beneath the great, golden wyrm. The Tenth Legion had come at last!

* * *

Teresa watched from above as the heavy horsemen of the newly arrived Imperial Legion charged directly into the rear of the dremora, smashing their way clear through to the Imperial infantry opposite them in many places. Behind them came more legionaries on foot, screaming at the top of their lungs.

The Daedric host simply dissolved then. There was no other way to put it. What had moments before been an army, turned into a mob fleeing for the gateways that dotted the plain. The newly arrived legionary horse cut many down as they ran, as did their comrades on foot. The Imperials who had been on the field for the entire battle did not pursue however, most simply collapsed in what Teresa hoped was only exhaustion.

In the midst of it all she saw the figure of a woman, clad in the simple skirt and bodice of a peasant. Swooping lower, Teresa found that she was kneeling over the rent body of one of the Imperial foresters. Her hands clutched her face, and auburn hair flowed down in front of her, so Teresa could not make our her features. Not that she needed to.

Morcant had been right. Attius would never return.

Posted by: ureniashtram Jun 20 2010, 06:12 PM

Wow. Just.. wow. That, my dear SubRosa, is one of the best battle ever written!!!11one!!1

The intensity, hopelessness and details... You, ma'am, are awesome beyond words!

Posted by: haute ecole rider Jun 20 2010, 07:17 PM

Well done!

Julian would hate how you made her seem so heroic! But I like it! If only we had a twirl emoticon here! I'll just have to settle for this:

But as Julian would say, the real heroes are the ones who died out there, holding the horde off from the Great Gate, as well as Pappy, Vincent, Tadrose and Raminus.

This segment was a properly written addition to a well-described epic battle. And in the end, Morcant finding Attius among the dead is also appropriate, though very saddening.

Loved this! (Natch)

Posted by: Olen Jun 20 2010, 11:13 PM

A great conclusion to a very well written battle piece. I must confess to shying away from such things on grounds of how hard they are to write but you pulled all the stops out here and it works marvelously, the quickening changes of perspective built a good atmosphere too. The foreshadowed arrival of the tenth provides a convincing end to the battle and ties up that loose end.

It seems Morcant was right though, a good inclusion to show that though they won the cost was more than just numbers.

I can't remember whether you said we met the nave of swords (if I remember the card correctly) or not in this section but given the development they got I suspect we may meet the Bruma fighters' guild again.

And still you keep the hooks in deep, what's Teresa going to make of this when she comes round? And what is her part in events? So many questions, great stuff

Posted by: D.Foxy Jun 21 2010, 12:58 AM

The technique and facts of battle - you didn't put a foot wrong.

The pace - perfect. Slow, steady, building up higher and higher until at the end the cavalry comes (literally) charging in...and how I LOVE the number! The TENTH! Ole Ceasar's favourite boys, BTW!

And in the end, the coda triste that ends all battles. Oh yes. Well and deeply written, my Rose. I know of no higher praise than that.

Posted by: Acadian Jun 21 2010, 02:59 AM

I normally don't enjoy reading about organized large scale combat. Just a touch to close to home you know. The best I can hope for is a tragic bittersweet sadness at the loss of so many brave lives. Yet oddly, I enjoyed reading this, despite its tragedy that pulls at my heart with a familiar refrain. Testamony to the power of your skill, I'm sure.

And so ends this chapter. Thank you for gracing us with it and taking your time to lavish the necessary detail. The entire multi-part chapter was simply masterful. It is fitting that it end with your finest effort yet, my friend. Simply magnificent!

A question. When Pappy envisioned the snarling troll as he called forth his Lord birthsign special power, was that because trolls regenerate? Did I guess right?

This final installment adds a full measure of impact to the fact that Pappy's Bravil guild is devastated and must rebuild. I'm so glad at least those three survived.

What a wonderful touch to slam home the wide ranging impact of war by showing, first hand, the tragedy that was Morcant and Attius. Lives and loves lost. Simply one of a thousand such stories that day, but undiminished regardless.

As always, you portrayed Julian so true to her nature. I'm so proud of our Hero of Kvatch for closing that gate!

As for Teresa, I love her more than ever for gracefully embracing her important, but supporting role.


And finally, a possible nit?

I'm sure you meant 'his'.

Posted by: Remko Jun 21 2010, 04:47 PM

*swallows chunk in throat* Wow.

Posted by: Destri Melarg Jun 22 2010, 12:32 AM

The horn is officially dead. I finally got my old avatar back!!

Forget about the Waterfront, you should write a fan-fic just dealing with the men and women of the Bravil Fighter’s Guild. Set it to begin in the aftermath of this battle, and have Teresa appear intermittently as a supporting character. Pappy, Tadrose, and Vincent are extremely well-drawn characters and I think they deserve a story of their own.

This is my favorite line:

Just a spectacular use of sound to give us imagery! Along with the heroic arrival of the Tenth that caused the hairs on the back of my neck to stand up, and the poignant image of Morcant grieving over the slain Attius! To quote Remko, Wow!

Posted by: SubRosa Jun 22 2010, 03:01 AM

ureniashtram: Thank you U. I drew upon a great deal of real world battles to put it all together.


the worm hautocolos: thank you t.w.h. For a moment I thought you said "Julian would haute how I made her seem so heroic!" It just worked out that way, but Julian definitely bagged the award for Coolest Entrance in the TF. Pappy might remind her that while their work was done at the end of the battle, hers had just begun, as immediately afterward it was Julian who had to storm the halls of Paradise to reclaim the Amulet of Kings...


Olen: Thank you Olen. I was aiming for something really epic in scale, and spent quite a bit of time working out both movements of the battle, and the events with the Bravil FG. Now that it is all over I am so relieved!

That was the Knight of Swords you were thinking of. We will be seeing him next chapter, which is also named after him. After giving it some thought, Pappy would qualify as the King of Swords, and Tadrose the Queen (at least in relation to Teresa). Vincent the Joker


D.Foxy: Thank you D.F. The main reason I went with the Tenth was that one of the legions with that number had the nickname Fretensis - "The Legion of the Sea Straits". It seemed perfect for a Legion normally stationed in Vvardenfell.


Acadian: Thank you Acadian. I wanted the battle to be both exciting, but also feel tragic as well. I thought about not including the part with Attius' death at the end, as I already had the deaths of the Bravil FG. But I wanted to finish what I started in The Witch Of Lake Trasimene.

You are spot on about the symbol of the troll for Pappy's regeneration. People with the Lord birthsign are said to be Trollkin (and I had Pappy curse his Trollkin blood earlier when they got hit by the fireball), so I thought the image of a troll would be the perfect thing to picture when using the Lord's healing power.

I am so glad I included Julian in the TF. She has really taken on a big role, and is filling the shoes of the Hero of Kvatch/Bruma very nicely. I doubt a character I created myself would grab hold of people nearly as well. Something I can only thank haute for, as the work she has done making Julian come alive in Old Habits follows her here.

And yes on the nit, well spotted!


Remko: Thank you Rem.


Destri Melarg: Thank you Dest. You know, the picture your new avatar is from is one of my favorite ones in the game. I wanted Chance to look like that, but I am just awful at making male faces in the game. Then when I found that shirt and vest he is wearing are not in the game, I was completely devastated.

Now you are giving me ideas about writing the Bravil FG. For the past few weeks I have been trying to imagine what it would be like for Pappy, et al. when they came back from Bruma. Having to tell all their comrade's loved ones what happened would be crushing. Then having to walk through that big, empty building that was once so filled with life (and strife!). Talk about soul-crushing.

Maybe I will write a chapter about it after all. I do have some ideas about the immediate aftermath of the battle. I know Pappy and the others would have gathered together their dead and buried them. Beforehand Pappy would have gotten the best hairdresser in Bruma to fix up Seridwe's hair (a promise is a promise after all). Then they would have taken all of their gear, and whatever loot they could carry, back to Bravil to give to their next of kin. The closest thing the FG would have to a Widows and Orphans fund. I know within a few weeks of the battle Tadrose would have been offered command of the Chorrol guild, and refused it.


All: I have been feeling a little burned out on writing since finishing this chapter, so I have not done much work on Chapter 11. Instead I have mostly been reading history, watching Daria, and playing Oblivion. It is one of the old chapters, but is one I am doing extensive revising to add more material. It has already doubled in size, and I am nowhere near getting it to where I want it. I am definitely getting long-winded in my old age... In any case, it might be a while before I post more Teresa.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Jun 22 2010, 03:16 AM

Take your time.

Chapter 10 was one of the most intense chapters I have ever read, and I know you put a lot of time in on it. I can imagine you really need to sit back and recharge your batteries.

I can't speak for others, but I will wait patiently for Teresa to return. I'm sure when she does, it will be better yet! We all need to take a break from our stories from time to time, I know all too well. Come back when you're fresh, good and ready.

In the meantime, don't forget to read our stuff and comment! Your insight is invaluable not only to me, but to other writers as well!

Posted by: Acadian Jun 22 2010, 03:37 AM

If you're going to take a break, this point in your story is the perfect place to do it. After all, you have been maintaining quite the pace. Take the time you need, and of course we'll all be here for you.

Posted by: Destri Melarg Jun 22 2010, 05:22 AM

I know exactly what you are going through. I have been feeling much the same way myself which is why I have not posted more in my own thread lately. I love your ideas for the Bravil Fighters Guild story! Maybe writing a chapter or two of that will help start the flow of creative juices again. Like the others said, we will all wait patiently while you recharge.

Posted by: SubRosa Jun 27 2010, 02:40 AM

I got inspired Thursday and finished the first draft Chapter 11 in a marathon session of writing (I can sit for 7-8 hours writing when I get worked up, the same happened with Chapter 10). I just finished the fourth draft, so I may as well start posting. This was originally the first chapter of Moving Through Darkness. It has received a major face lift, going from 4,500 words to 12,000 and change.

Next, Teresa finally returns to the Imperial City after her long sojourn into the wilds. Some of you might recognize the street names I used.

* * *

Chapter 11a - The Knight of Swords

29th Midyear, 3E433

The towering grey walls of the Imperial City loomed above Teresa as she made her way up the hill upon which the metropolis was built. Beyond the great bulwark, the tall, slender spire of White Gold Tower floated high in the summer sky, seeming to nearly reach clouds themselves.

The pavestones of the road were hard beneath the Bosmer's feet. Rather than going directly up the hill, the road curled alongside it, gradually rising as it turned widdershins along the circular outer wall of the city. She imagined that the gentle slope made it easier for the many wagons and carts that she passed. Loaded down with goods, they went both to and from the city on the wide avenue.

Pausing to look back the way she had come, Teresa had to shield her eyes from the glare of the morning sun. Mile after mile of farms and pastures stretched away to the horizon, a jumble of golden and green fields of all sizes and shapes set across the landscape like some board game created by the mad god Sheogorath.

Somewhere beyond was Lake Rumare, the forester thought, and the ferry that she had taken across it. She imagined that the crew were still talking about her. So far as they had been able to tell she had fainted and remained unconscious for the entire trip across. She had seen no reason to tell them anything different. Telling people that she had seen a battle taking place hundreds of miles away as a bird did not strike her as a good idea…

Her eye picked out a rider among the traffic coming up the road below her who was different from the others. He wore the dragon tunic of the Imperial Legion, just like the riders she had seen on the road from Cheydinhal. He raced his horse past carts and pedestrians alike as he hastily made his way up the winding road. As he came nearer, she saw that he was a young Imperial with a face drawn by weariness and covered in dust. Yet he did not slow his horse as he bolted past her, and by then she could see that the sides of his mount were gleaming with sweat.

He must have been riding hard for some time, Teresa found herself thinking. What message might he have that was so important? she wondered. The news of the victory at Bruma perhaps? and the strange orb that Julian of Anvil had somehow taken from the destroyed Great Gate?

No one on the road had spoken of either during the wood elf's journey from the ferry at Sideways. It was a strange feeling, knowing something that no one else did. Yet Teresa had kept the knowledge to herself, again thinking of having to explain how she learned it.

Readjusting the sacks of Vilverin's loot she had slung over one shoulder, and the oval body shield of elven design hanging from the other, Teresa turned back to the city above and trudged on with everyone else on the road. In time she came to the Market Gate, its tall bronze portals long turned green with verdigris.

Only a single legionary stood guard at the gateway, which struck Teresa as being odd. Usually there were at least two on each side. Then she realized that most of them must still be at Bruma. It would probably take them at least a week to return. Methredhel must be enjoying that, she found herself thinking with a faint smile.

She could not stop her gaze from wandering to the Imperial Prison. Standing directly across from the Market Gate, it sat on a separate hill from the rest of the city. The only way to reach it was a wide, stone bridge that spanned the gap between it and the city hill. Perhaps it was all in her mind, but its grey stone walls looked more forbidding than those surrounding the city. Or maybe it was the old corpses of murderers hanging from the gibbet outside its entrance. She saw several new crosses there as well, supporting much fresher bodies wearing red robes.

She knew those robes all too well. They were exactly the same as those worn by the Emperor's assassins. Mythic Dawn agents! Where she normally felt pity for the poor wretches executed outside the prison, Teresa could not muster up the slightest ounce of feeling for them. She only hoped that they took a long time to die.

Turning back to the Market Gate, she found the legionary there eyeing her as she approached, even through the crowds of people who were always bustling into and out of the Market District. She did not know if it was her bandit-style hide armor, or the big sacks she carried, or perhaps even her flame red hair that caught his eye. In any case, she met the bull by the horns and strode directly to him.

"Do you know what day it is?" she asked. "I have been in the forest for a long time."

"It's Mondas ma'am," the soldier replied, looking her up and down. "The 28th of Midyear. So you're a woodsrunner then?"

"Yes," Teresa replied evenly. "I harvest alchemical supplies."

"Is that what you got there?" the Imperial looked at the shield on her shoulder, and the large bags she carried.

"No, I found this in Vilverin." Teresa said. "Most of it belonged to some bandits, before a necromancer killed them all."

"Good riddance to bad rubbish then." The legionary leaned over to spit on the pavement. His eye turned away from her, and back to the other people streaming to and from the city.

Teresa nodded, and continued on her way into the city. She had no doubt that a few months ago he would have said the same of her. All the Imperial Legion had, along with most other people in the city.

Her thoughts turned from that as she pushed her way into the bustling streets. Even as wide as the main boulevard from the gate was, it was packed with horses, wagons, and people, all shoving or dodging one another to get by. There were elegant patricians in their velvet and jewels, flanked by servants in fine linens and the occasional mail-clad bodyguard. Contrasting them were beggars and other proles in ragged sackcloth and patchwork flax. In between were ordinary working folk in worn flax and linen, and shopkeepers and artisans in slightly better fare.

The smell filled her nostrils. Human and animal sweat, mixed in with the stink of horse manure and the effluvium of garbage. After so many weeks in the wilderness, she could not keep the sour expression from her face as she breathed in the stench of so many people crowded in so close together.

They need to build more bathhouses, she thought to herself as she pushed her way through the crowds down Commerce Street to where it intersected with Market Way. There she paused to scan the crowds. She knew that this was Simplicia's favorite spot to beg, as nearly everyone coming into and out of the eastern half of the city passed through this crossroads.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v90/subrosa_florens/oblivion/Oblivion454.jpg

Not seeing the old Imperial woman in the crowds, Teresa turned to her right, making her way northwest along Market Way. The largest boulevard that arced through the district, even it was packed with throngs going into and out of the many arcades and small squares along its length. Finally, in the same arcade that housed The Gilded Carafe, she spotted the aging woman.

"Simplicia!" Teresa could not restrain a shout as she picked up her pace, dodging past a cart loaded with pottery to reach the arcade. Once in the cool shade under the archways the forester slowed down, and she saw the old woman rise from where she had been sitting against the insula wall.

The beggar wore a patchwork dress of green flax that looked ready to fall apart at any moment. Her face was lined and wrinkled like old leather, and the dirty hair that spilled down her head was as dingy and grey as the stone wall behind her. Yet to Teresa's eyes, there was no more beautiful sight in the world.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v90/subrosa_florens/oblivion/Oblivion455.jpg

Dropping her loot with a clatter, the young Bosmer wrapped her arms around the much older woman. All of her worries slipped away as Simplicia held her close. It was as if she has stepped out of the world for a moment, and into a land where nothing else mattered.

Posted by: Acadian Jun 27 2010, 04:26 AM

What a pleasure this was!

I know that the big city is the BIG city in TF and you did justice to the scale you intend.

I loved how you brought her 'flight of the raven' into perspective and tied it in with her ride on the ferry after Vilverin. Good choice, Teresa, in deciding not to try and explain that! This was very tightly wrapped into what has come before.

Your description of the IC was great. For Teresa, with all her recent time in the forest, the normal smells of the city must have seemed quite the assault on her nostrils - well done.

The familiar and the not so familiar, comfortably interwoven with great skill: The stone bridges and walls, the Imperial prison, Methredhel, Simplica - - yet laced with brilliantly new and creative touches including crucifixion / impaling of mythic dawn agents and ferry service across Lake Rumare.

As always, this was wonderfully done.

Posted by: Winter Wolf Jun 27 2010, 08:04 AM

To say that your writing has gone to the next level over the last few months is one hell of an understatement. Wow! I don't think I have ever read such a balanced piece of writing before, it is so good it is insane.

First you pull off the impossible task of large scale combat in the last chapters and then bring us back to Nirn with a smooth transition into the arms of Simplicia. Wow!

No, scratch that, WOW!

I think your computer ate your 'had' for lunch!!

Posted by: haute ecole rider Jun 27 2010, 06:49 PM

Well done!

I hear you about the marathon writing sessions! Sometimes I get so caught up in writing that five hours lapse before I look up at the clock. Yikes!

I didn't see any nits, that's how engrossed I was in this chapter. I liked the scale of the city, and the names of the streets. I have a hard time picturing IC as being a huge metropolis, so your description is very engaging.

And we see dear old Simplicia again! How wonderful, it's almost like going home again. I'm looking forward to seeing my favorite TF character again! Soon, I hope?

Posted by: Olen Jun 27 2010, 10:05 PM

Good to see this updating again, as ever it's a pleasure to read.

The paragraph with the smells was bang on and was one of those lines which really brings a setting to life. It also hammered home just how big your IC is...

And now after she sells some loot I can't wait to see what happens.

Comments:
Beyond the great bulwark, the tall, slender spire of White Gold Tower floated high in the summer sky, seeming to nearly reach clouds themselves. - great description but I'm not convinced the first comma is helpful. Might just be the way I read it though.

passed through this intersection - I'm not sure about 'intersection', it could be an accent thing but to me the word conjurs images of either big scary American juntions with too many traffic lights or maths. It doesn't seem right with the setting, perhaps 'junction' or 'thoroughfare' would fit better, it might just be an accent thing though.

Anyway great stuff and I look forward to more.

Posted by: SubRosa Jun 28 2010, 05:22 PM

Acadian: Thank you paladin. Big is definitely what I am going for with both the IC, and Tamriel in general.


Winter Wolf: Thank you Wolf. As you know I prefer the personal stuff, but writing the big sweep of battle last chapter was good exercise.

Quite right about lunch. I need to start feeding my computer more, so it does not continue munching on my words...


haute ecole rider: Thank you for those street names from the JF. It is little touches like that which help bring a setting to life.

If you favorite TF character is Jensine, then you are in luck! Just kidding. Vols will be very prominent this chapter.


Olen: Thank you Olen. I think the thing that Teresa will remember the most about the IC is the smell.

I decided to keep the first comment, but went and changed intersection to crossroads, to give it more low-tech feel.

All: This will be slightly big, at 2.2k, but I think it breaks at a good point. Next Teresa catches up with Simplicia, and we see the first sign of a new personal issue which will trouble her for some time. Finally, we have another surprise visit from The Hero of Kvatch.

* * *

Chapter 11b - The Knight of Swords

"My Teresa!" the old woman exclaimed, "You have been gone so long that I was almost afraid you forgot to come back!"

"I could never forget you Simplicia," Teresa breathed, feeling the other woman draw away. "I sent you a letter, did you get it?"

"Oh I did!" the beggar cried. Reaching into the folds of her skirt, she drew forth a folded up piece of parchment. "Jensine gave it to me just a few days ago! I could na' believe it. My little girl sending me letters, just like some fancy patrician! You should save your money though."

"None of it's wasted when it's for you." Teresa could not keep the smile - a real smile - from her lips. "Why aren't you wearing the new clothes I bought you before I left?"

"Oh I can't wear those when I'm workin'" the old woman waved her hand for emphasis. "Nobody'll give me half a drake unless I look poor."

"But you don't have to beg any more Simplicia." Teresa bit her lower lip. "I gave you enough money that you can stay at one of the plain inns, like Luther Broad's. I've got more now too, plenty more."

"Oh I can't go to Luther's," the old woman said. "It ain't safe! There was a murder there! Not long after you left, two Redguards, one a big man and the other a woman with hair white as snow, killed them some poor Breton fella there. The legion didn't do a thing neither, so they must'a been workin' for one of the nobles."

A Redguard with white hair? Teresa thought, could that have been Julian, and the other man Baurus? She had not seen him since leaving the prison nearly two months ago. Nor had she seen Julian, in the flesh at least, in nearly as long as well. Had that Breton been a Mythic Dawn assassin?

"Well you could go to The King and Queen then, or The White Mare." Teresa insisted. "You shouldn't be out here begging at all. Let me take care of you from now on."

"Oh I can take care of myself Teresa, don't you worry none about me," the old woman said with a wave of her hand.

"You shouldn't have to, and I do worry!" Teresa insisted. "I'm doing good now, and I want you to do good too. You took care of me for all those years, now it's time for you to let me take care of you."

"Oh I'm just fine as I am, I don't need much." Simplicia said. Now the Imperial looked at the sacks of gear that Teresa had discarded on the cobblestones. Poking a hand into one, she withdrew a bronze-colored mace of Dwemer manufacture. "Where did you get this? Have you been stealing? I swear ever since you met that Methredhel you've been going down the wrong path!"

"I didn't steal anything!" Teresa grabbed the mace from Simplicia and thrust it back into the bag. "I came upon this fair and square! It belonged to some bandits who died."

"You been killing bandits!" Simplicia's eyes widened in shock. "What have you been doing out there? You said you were just picking plants!"

"I am!" Teresa felt herself flush with warmth. "I didn't kill anyone. Someone else killed them. I just found them afterward and took all their things."

"Who would do such a thing and not take it all themselves?" Simplicia gave the much younger wood elf a hard stare.

"I don't know. Maybe it was the Imperial Legion, or maybe it was trolls." Teresa tried to come up with any explanation other than a necromancer who had nearly killed her. "It doesn't really matter. All that matters is I found it and now I'm going to sell it, and we're going to live good for a while!"

"Oh Teresa, you haven't been yourself since you disappeared. What happened to you, to make you so wild?" Simplicia said. "You need to settle down, before you get hurt, or worse. Keep your head down and stay out of trouble, that's the way to go."

"Keep my fetching head down!" Teresa could not contain the snarl that escaped her lips. Her heart was racing, and her hands clenched into fists. "I'm not going to spend my life in the damn gutter! And neither should you blast it!"

"Teresa!" Simplica's eyes widened again, and the old woman stepped back from the wood elf. "What's gotten into you! You were never like this before."

Because I never had any respect for myself before, Teresa thought to herself. It took all the willpower she could muster to avoid spitting those words back into the old Imperial's face. Instead she closed her eyes and forced her shaking fingers to uncurl themselves, laying her palms flat against the top of her greaves.

Calm down, the forester told herself, Simplicia was just worried about her, like she always was. Why was she getting so angry?

"I'm sorry Simplicia," Teresa sighed. "I just can't live like I used to anymore. I can't." In her mind, she heard the Emperor's words: "You have no idea what you can do, but I do" As if driven away just by thinking of him, her anger vanished as quickly as it had erupted.

"Let's go and sell this junk," she nodded to the bags of loot. "Then we'll get something to eat and catch up. I was thinking I would start at The Best Defense, since a lot of it is armor."

"No, don't go there," Simplicia warned. "They got a whole bunch of stuff in just the other day, you won't get no good prices there. Try Jensine, she buys everything."

"Ok I…" Teresa's words trailed off at the sound of shouts and cheers that suddenly broke out in the street outside the arcade. She and the beggar both turned to look, and before their eyes crowds began to form along either side of the thoroughfare.

"Emperor Martin!" she heard someone shout, and her heart skipped a beat.

"The Hero of Kvatch!" came another cry, prompting Teresa to take Simplicia by the arm and step closer. The crowds blocked their way though, and there was no pushing through them. Then the wood elf's eye spied a group of crates nearby, and a moment later she leapt atop one. Reaching down for Simplicia, she dragged her up as well, in spite of the older woman's protests.

Looking back to the street, she now saw that a group of riders were slowly making their way through the cheering mass of people. Leading the way was a middle-aged Breton wearing the banded armor of the Blades and carrying a curved sword. Close behind him came a thickly-muscled Redguard dressed in the same. Both looked worn and tired, and were covered in dust.

"It's Jauffre!" she cried out, pointing them out to Simplicia, "and that's Baurus!"

"How do you know who they are?" the old woman asked. Before Teresa could reply, a third rider came into view.

Like the other two, he rode a rather ordinary-looking brown horse. However, unlike them he was dressed in gleaming ebony armor emblazoned with golden dragons. A sword of the same dark material was slung at his hip. His helmet sat on his saddlehorn, allowing his dark hair to flow in the breeze that had suddenly kicked up. Blue eyes flashing, he greeted the crowds with a smile. It was Martin Septim, Teresa knew, the new Emperor himself!

What really drew Teresa's eyes was the great red jewel hanging from his neck however, bound in gold and surrounded by eight smaller gemstones of varying colors. She recognized it instantly, for she had once held it in her hands. The Amulet of Kings.

Had he been wearing that at Bruma? she found herself wondering. No, he had not, she realized. Was that because he had been afraid of it being broken in the battle? Somehow she doubted that. The Emperors always wore the amulet. Or at least all the statues and paintings of them showed them that way. Had he somehow not had the amulet at Bruma? But why not?

Teresa lost her chain of thought as the final rider came into view, bringing up the rear of the group. She was a middle-aged Redguard, whose snow white hair trailed down behind her shoulders in a ponytail. She wore mail armor covered in a white surcoat, with a back wolf's head across the chest. Suddenly she realized that was the symbol of Kvatch, as she heard people crying out: "The Hero of Kvatch!"

Julian of Anvil, she thought. She had been seeing her so much in her visions, and heard tales of her exploits so often on the road, that Teresa felt she knew the Redguard. A silly idea, the forester told herself, but still she felt that way nonetheless. Even though she had actually only met Julian for a very brief moment at Weynon.

The Redguard's eyes locked upon her own then, and the other woman nodded her head in acknowledgment.

She remembered! Teresa could not restrain the grin that crossed her features, nor keep her hand from rising up to wave at Julian and the other riders as they slowly pushed their way through the crowd.

"Look Simplica!" Teresa now turned to the older Imperial. "That's Julian of Anvil! And that's the new Emperor in front of her, Martin Septim!"

"Bah, none of them mean a thing," the beggar waved a dismissing hand at the riders and began to clamber down from the crate. "They're all the same, livin' their great big ivory tower. They don't know or care a fig for people like us down here in the street."

"That's not true," Teresa found herself saying. She reached down to steady the old woman as she stepped back to the cobblestones, and followed her a moment later. Long habit made her eyes dart to her bags of loot, and a feeling of relief washed over her when she saw they were still where she had left them. "They do care. They just fought a huge battle to protect all of us from the Daedra. All of them were in the thick of it. Now that the Emperor's back here, then the war must be over!"

The thought was like a tremendous weight being lifted from her shoulders. Ever since leaving Morcant, the Witch's chilling prediction had been gnawing at the back of her mind. The images of the cards had always been just beneath the surface of her thoughts: The Daedric Prince, The Tower, Death. Yet now that the battle had been won, and the Emperor returned to the city victorious, then it was all over, was it not? Was not that battle what the reading had been all about?

For some reason that made her think of Julian, standing in the wreckage of the Great Oblivion Gate, holding that strange orb in one arm. What had that been? Teresa wondered once more. Had that had something to do with why Martin had not been wearing the Amulet of Kings that day?

That had only been a few days ago, she found herself thinking, how had they gotten here from Bruma so quickly? Glancing back toward the street, she realized that they were not riding the same horses that they had in the battle. That is when it came to her. They must have used those dispatch posts she had seen on the road. They could have ridden nonstop since the battle, drinking Restore Fatigue potions to stay awake, and changing horses at every station. That could have gotten them here so quickly.

"How do you know about a battle?" Simplica asked as they walked back to the loot. "I haven't heard anything about that?"

"I found out about it on the road," Teresa said. "It was at Bruma. There was a huge army of Daedra that attacked the city, like at Kvatch. But the Emperor led the army against them and won!" At the cost of many people's lives, Teresa remembered. The sight of Morcant kneeling in the wheat beside Attius was burned into her mind. How many other people lost their loved ones that day? she wondered. How many soldiers had died, to protect people like herself and Simplicia?

"The Nine forbid anything like that happening here!" Simplicia reflexively looked up as she slowly walked from the edge of the street and back into the shade of the arcade. Teresa followed, forcing herself to slow down to match the older woman's glacial pace. For not the first time, she wished she had learned to create Cure Disease potions sooner. If she had been able to cure Simplicia's stonejoint quicker, she would probably walk much better today.

Well, if wishes were horses we all would ride, the wood elf thought to herself as they made their way back to her sacks of loot. Lifting one after another and hoisting them over her shoulders, she led Simplicia down a small alley that cut right through the insula. It led them back to Commerce street, and the Market Gate rose not far beyond her left shoulder. Pushing her way across the boulevard, she took another alley through the insula at the other side. Finally that led them into another arcade lined with shops The two of them made their way through the nearly deserted space, and Teresa was thankful for the crowd having gathered in the street. It was nice to have some elbow room once more.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Jun 28 2010, 05:59 PM

I loved that Julian recognized Teresa from that so-brief visit at Weynon Priory a lifetime ago! Cool!

Simplicia's concern for Teresa's activities remind me of my own mother, especially when first my older sister, then I, went away to college and came home drinkin' and swearin'! "I did not pay tuition so you could learn how to drink and swear!"

The reference to Astav Wirich's passing in the cellar of Luther's tickled me no end!

It's wonderfully perceptive of Teresa to notice the Amulet. I wonder if the brief time she held it affected her. Of course, it's kind of hard to miss.

Posted by: Acadian Jun 28 2010, 09:33 PM

This was great! I loved how you anchored the whole story with Teresa and Simplicia. Yes, Simplica was understandably concerned for Teresa, and yes, Teresa stumbled trying to explain her bandit loot. I was impressed however by Teresa as she explained to Simplicia that she could no longer be meek and keep her head down - wisely put for one so young. I was even more impressed by Teresa as she explained to Simplicia that the 'royal party' passing by did indeed matter, and why. Beautifully done, SubRosa!

It was wonderful, as always, to see Julian again in this segment.


A nit, perhaps?

My guess is that by the bolded 'to', you mean as in 'also'; therefore I would think you want 'too'.

Posted by: Destri Melarg Jun 29 2010, 02:00 AM

I fell in love with Simplicia in this chapter. She reminds me of my grandmother, the woman who raised me and went to bed hungry so that my brother and I didn’t have to. The woman who was there with a small handful of folded money, a sandwich and a hot bowl of soup, or a warm bed and blanket for anyone who needed it, yet who constantly refused help even when offered simply because she refused to be a burden to anyone.

Experiencing the Oblivion Crisis second hand like this, through Teresa’s perspective, is just great. I am in awe of your use of the little subtle details like the ‘two Redguards who killed the poor Breton’, or the absence of the Amulet of Kings and the use of the dispatch stations to change horses en route to the IC while quaffing Restore Fatigue potions . . . inspired writing, ‘Rosa!

Posted by: Winter Wolf Jun 29 2010, 07:02 AM

The memory of this chapter stays with one long after it is read. The believability of the characters and the sweeping vision of the crowd scene is what makes the heart of it tick. Bravo!

Simplicia just oozes a realness here that was a delight to read. She was not going to move and even a bargepole would not have shifted her position. And the more Teresa got upset the more her feet became set. Fantastic!!

Strangely, I came across Simplicia last night while I was playing Oblivion. She had her back to me in the Market District and refused to get out of my way. If I turned left, she blocked me, if I turned right, she was there again. I had the strong urge to just pick her up and place her down on the sidewalk!!
Please ask Teresa to have a word with her, would you? I have my shopping to do.

The part with Julian was so wonderful. I cannot wait to see how Haute finishes the MQ in her story.
The 'Hero of Kvatch' title does seem to fit our delightful Redguard.

Posted by: Olen Jun 29 2010, 10:20 AM

Excellent part, I echo Wolf's comments on the believability of the characters, they all seemed completly real with perfectly done reactions in this part. Simplicia was just excellent, everyone must know someone like that and Teresa's reactions felt so real.

The comments about Luther Broad's brings the setting to life too.

And we got Julian, that part was a real treat.

Posted by: SubRosa Jun 30 2010, 04:58 PM

haute ecole rider: Thank you h.e.o. Simplicia is where Teresa gets her stubbornness from. Teresa carried the Amulet of Kings for a week, so its something that she is quite aware of. Not mention as you said, it is hard to miss being so huge! We will see more about he effects of her being an amulet-bearer in the future...


Acadian: Thank you Acadian. That was a scene that showcased several of the changes in Teresa's attitudes. Her self-confidence, her temper, and her changing feeling toward authority figures.


Destri Melarg: Thank you Dest. I was never satisfied with the treatment I gave Simplicia in the original version. I wanted to give her more depth, to make her feel more real. She is the most important person in Teresa's life after all.

I am also glad you liked the little bits of second-hand info about the Oblivion Crisis, delivered in the same way ordinary people would learn them. That is also something I have been aiming for.


Winter Wolf: Thank you o frozen Wolf. I am glad the extra work I put into Simplicia worked for you. You just need to give her some money in the game!


Olen: Thank you Olen. Julian does have one more cameo next chapter, and it will be her largest part in the TF to date.


All: Now for some manly killing, and we meet the man this chapter is named after.


* * *

Chapter 11c - The Knight of Swords

The sight of a legionary gave her pause however. Wearing the dark plate of all his brethren, he towered higher than ordinary Imperials, taller than most orcs or Nords even. Icy blue eyes flashed from the recess of his plumed helmet, and now Teresa did freeze. She knew those eyes. They had been etched upon her memory since childhood. Even now she could still see that gauntleted fist smashing across her face, feel the crack of a tooth breaking loose from her jaw, and taste the warm, salty blood that filled her mouth afterward.

"It's that fetcher Volsinius," Simplicia muttered darkly from beside her. Somehow hearing the older woman's voice snapped Teresa back into motion. Blinking hard to wipe the image from her mind, she resolutely strode forward. She was not going to allow some thug to scare her, she told herself, never again.

Making a point to ignore the legionary, she led Simplicia to Jensine's 'Good As New' Merchandise, pausing there to let the older woman open the door for her. She was aware of Volsinius hovering near, and could feel that frozen stare of his upon the back of her neck. Let him stare, she thought to herself, she was not a child anymore, and was not going to be frightened by childhood hobgoblins.

The interior of Jensine's shop was spacious and brightly lit by glowstones. The stone walls were lined with shelves and racks of merchandise. Clothing, tools, tableware, furniture, even a few weapons and pieces of armor filled the shop. A glass counter stood near the front door, its innards filled with jewelry, curios, and even a magicka gem that glowed from the energy stored within it. Jensine had a little bit of everything, Teresa found herself thinking as she walked to the counter.

Behind the counter stood Jensine herself. She was tall for a human, with a solid frame clad in worn linen. Her green eyes were set within a face worn by time and troubles, and her red hair was so dark that it was nearly brown. She was talking to a brown-haired Bosmer near the back of the store. He wore simple clothing of flax, and was taking candles from a small crate and arranging them onto a shelf. It was Gelephor, Teresa knew, the night watchman from the warehouse next door. She had seen him often enough in the shops along the arcade. The only other person in the store was a Redguard whom the forester had never seen before, looking over the silver cups and pitchers that lined one shelf.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v90/subrosa_florens/oblivion/Oblivion466.jpg

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v90/subrosa_florens/oblivion/Oblivion467.jpg

Jensine turned at the sound of the door. A scowl dropped away from her face, to be replaced by a warm smile. "Simplicia!" she exclaimed, "has that girl of yours come back yet?"

"She just got back this morning," Teresa said dryly, setting her bags down on the floor beside the counter. The shopkeeper gave her a blank stare as she looked her up and down. Then the human's features lit up in surprise.

"Teresa? is that you?" Jensine cried, "you look so different!"

The wood elf could feel her cheeks color with warmth, and stared down at the floor. Had she really changed that much? she wondered. Then with a faint smile she lifted her eyes back to Jensine's. It was more a question of how much she had not changed, rather than how much she had.

"That's my girl alright!" Simplicia's voice rang out from beside her. Even Teresa could not fail to note the pride on the old Imperial's voice. "I told you, she's an explorer now she is. All fancy in her leather, out there in the woods making potions."

"Well it's good to see you doing so well!" Jensine exclaimed. "If you need more henna for your hair let me know. I got some in a few days ago." Then her voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper, and she leaned closer to the wood elf. "I've got plenty of silphium too," she winked, "with that hair, you'll probably be needing it."

Now Teresa blushed again. She knew all about silphium, Methredhel and Adanrel had been taking it for years to keep from getting in a family way. But that was hardly ever a problem for her!

"I, um, have some things to sell that I found in the woods," Teresa tried to quickly change the subject. Lifting the elven body shield to the counter, she set it gently upon the wooden top.

"You found this in-" Jensine's voice was suddenly cut off as the door burst open and a Khajiit ran in, his eyes wide with terror. The source of his fear became evident a moment later, as a nightmare leaped through the doorway behind him. Covered in brown scales, the massive creature's head was long and narrow, and reminded Teresa of an Argonian's. Only Argonians did not have razor sharp teeth that were half a foot long. Nor did they have feet adorned with similar wickedly-edged claws, nor tails crowned with spikes.

A daedroth! Teresa realized, having seen plenty of them at Bruma. She stared in horror as the Daedric beast pounced upon the Khajiit, slamming the poor man face-down into the floor. Its foreclaws raked across the man's back, and he screamed in a high-pitched voice as chunks of flesh and bone were torn free. He went silent a moment later, as the monster's massive jaws dipped low and locked around his throat.

Teresa knew that she should do something. She should draw her bow, she thought, string it, nock an arrow, and shoot. Yet her body was frozen in place. All she could do was stare as her stomach churned at the sight of the Khajiit's head being ripped from his shoulders. Then the daedroth rose from the corpse and looked directly at her and Simplicia.

Now the wood elf found she could move again, and pushed the older Imperial behind her. She knew that she could never string her bow in time to use it. The handle of the Dwemer mace poked from the open top of one of the bags near her feet. She wondered if she would be able to reach it before the daedroth was upon her?

The sound of metal clanking against metal came to Teresa's ears, and then Volsinius was in the doorway. His arming sword was already in his hand, and its brilliant, silvery blade stained with dark liquid along its length. He only paused a moment to take in the scene, then sprang into action as the daedroth moved forward. Charging up behind the Daedra, his sword darted forward even as it reached out for Teresa. The monster stiffened as the legionary's blade pierced the back of its skull, and collapsed to the floor in front of the forester a moment later.

The shop erupted in a bedlam of screams and shouts as Volsinius turned from the daedroth and faced the open doorway. Teresa remained silent however. Her bow stave was in her hand now, and her fingers drew forth a string from a pouch at her waist. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a bright red-orange glow outside the shop. She knew what that was, she had seen it at Bruma as well. An Oblivion Gate!


***
I do not have an in-game screenshot, but I have always pictured http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v90/subrosa_florens/Rome-TitusPullo02.jpg as playing Vols, except with blond hair and blue eyes.

Posted by: D.Foxy Jun 30 2010, 05:26 PM

Damn.

You got it in one, girl. Yep, he looks the part...though of course Vols would be older, and more lined in the face.

Hmmm...you made Vols have a far different entry than the last story. Interesting. Let's see if you can get the same intensity here that you achieved then...


...waiting for your next post!

Posted by: haute ecole rider Jun 30 2010, 05:48 PM

Yup, that's the way I always pictured Vols, only with a slightly broader face (i.e. a little more Slavic).

This is a different start to the Oblivion Crisis, and much more effective. It shows how things can change from the mundane, happy times to sheer horror in literally a blink of an eye.

I'm waiting to see how the rest of the Crisis plays out!

Posted by: Acadian Jul 1 2010, 02:52 AM

This was great!

Wonderful, almost majestic opening description of Volsinius.

What really struck me in this story was your economy of words. At one point I was marveling at the detail you provided inside Jensine's shop. Yet, after finishing the story, I find I myself amazed how much ground you covered - - without the slightest sense of rushing the story. Very well done!

Teresa knew exactly what a Daedroth and Oblivion Gate were because she had seen them at Bruma - beautiful touch.

Posted by: Winter Wolf Jul 1 2010, 06:55 AM

I always loved this chapter from Beth and I still do!
It is brutal and to the point, you lavish us with just the right amount of detail.

Ahh Vols. Welcome back.

I loved the reference to childhood hobgoblins. Was that in the original? It seems to slip my mind for some reason.

Posted by: Olen Jul 1 2010, 12:38 PM

Well you introduce Vols interestingly, I'm fascinated to see how you develop him. You've certainly introduced him in the thick of it, just when I felt a pause for breath coming on you have a daedric invasion of the IC. Good detail with the daedroth ripping the bloke apart.

Again you demonstrate how far Teresa has come but you moved it subtlly enough that its hard to place a finger on any major turn in her character (with the possible exception of meeting the Emperor though even then is was more in the mind and liad foundations...). Simplicia's pride after complining in private fits her character perfectly too.

A nit?!
Charging up behind the Daedra, his sword - an obsessive might point out at this juncture that strictly 'Daedra' is plural and 'Daedroth' singular but seeing as this conflicts with the name of an individual variety I can see why you used daedra as singular, however I'm less sure about the capitalisation (I wouldn't have noticed but the whole singular/plural thing drew my attention from the shop (where it had been firmly lodged)).

Posted by: Remko Jul 1 2010, 02:23 PM

You, my dear, are truly a miracle worker. Loved the little hint to the Breton killed by Baurus. I also adore the depth you have given Simplicia.

Posted by: SubRosa Jul 2 2010, 04:30 PM

D.Foxy: Thank you Fox.


haute ecole rider: Thank you h.e.o. I wanted to make the beginning of the attack seem really sudden and unexpected. I am glad it worked.


Acadian: Thank you Acadian. You know me, the soul of brevity. It is funny, now that she has read Varieties of Daedra, and seen the battle at Bruma, Teresa is something of an expert on Daedra now. At least the ones of Marooned Dragon.


Winter Wolf: Thank you wolf. The hobgoblins are a new reference, to go with the new scene of Teresa and Simplicia seeing Vols lurking outside of Jensine's.


Olen: Thank you Olen. I go for slow and steady with character development, showing a little bit at a time, precisely so I can get that sense you mentioned, of it being hard to point out just one moment where things change.

I am not using daedroth as a term meaning all daedra, as that is just confusing. The differences in capitalizations are part of the style sheet I have developed for writing ES, it goes with how I do Bosmer and wood elf, etc... At the Beth forums we had a topic devoted to sounding off questions and ideas about how to do things like that. http://forums.bethsoft.com/index.php?/topic/1056521-writers-plaza/page__st__60. It might be a good idea to start one here.


Remko: Thank you Rem. I am glad Simplicia is feeling real, working on that has been one of my goals in Teresa 2.0.


All: Next, Teresa finds herself in a desperate battle to survive the end of the Oblivion Crisis.

* * *

Chapter 11d - The Knight of Swords

Just as she finished stringing her bow, a mob of Daedra came pushing through the door. Unlike the giant daedroth, these were little runts, barely half Teresa's height and even skinnier. Their brown bodies were hairless, and reminded Teresa of goblins with their pointed ears and deformed features. Yet goblins did not have rat-like tails, nor hooked claws on their fingers.

"Damn scamps!" Volsinius cried out, striding into the mass of creatures. His bright sword chopped into the nearest, severing one of its bony arms in a smooth motion. That is when Teresa noticed that the blade of his sword was not made of steel, but rather of a bright, silvery metal. Mithril! she realized. She had seen the battlemages of the army wearing mail of the same material. Yet she could only recall of a few foot soldiers carrying weapons made of it. The centurions, with their transverse-crested helmets, and a few others who otherwise looked the same as any other legionary.

Two more of the monsters leapt upon Volsinius, their clawed fingers scratching ineffectually across the dark steel plate that girded his muscular frame. Dropping his sword, the soldier grasped one by the neck and smashed it against the wall. The creature hit so hard that its skull burst open against the stone, draping the wall with black blood as its body slid to the floor.

Teresa had an arrow in her hand then, and set it to the nock even as another of the creatures sprang at her. There was no time to think, or aim. She simply drew and loosed. The creature jerked in mid-air as the fletchings of her arrow sprouted from its shoulder. A moment later it landed heavily upon her. The forester shoved it off of her as it weakly grabbed for her torso with its good arm, and she reached for another arrow.

Simplicia's scream brought her around. One of the scamps had cornered the old woman against the counter, and was tearing at the long skirt she wore. Blood stained the Daedra's claws, even as the beggar pounded upon its head with her closed fists.

Teresa felt her blood boil at the sight. Ignoring the scamp at her feet, she turned and drew her bow to half tension, sighting in on the torso of the little monster. She felt a tugging at her legs, and heard something tear. She paid it no heed. Letting half of the air from her lungs, Teresa pulled the string back to her cheek and loosed. The scamp attacking Simplicia jerked as the arrow drilled through its heart, then fell still.

Teresa looked down to see the first scamp tearing at the leather and hide on her legs with its good arm. The enchanted armor flashed yellow with every strike of its claws, but was slowly unraveling under its assault.

Her heart, already racing, doubled its pace as she stared at the malformed features of the monster so near to her. Trying to jerk it loose, she kicked and flailed at the creature, feeling panic rise within her. It clung on like a tick however, and as she stared a ball of fire erupted from its slender fingers and washed over her legs. The forester gritted her teeth and screwed her eyes shut, anticipating the agony to come. Yet she did not feel a thing. Opening her eyes, she found that the leather sheathing her legs was not even singed by the Daedra's magical fire.

Then its skull dissolved under the bronze head of the Dwemer mace. Looking up, Teresa saw Jensine standing next to her with the weapon in hand. The screech of another scamp came from near the doorway, as Volsinius pinned it to the wall with his shield and used his long, triangular-bladed dagger to grisly effect upon its wiry frame. It fell silent a moment later, and the legionary allowed its corpse to drop motionless to the floor.

Now the shop went silent, but for the clanking of armor and gasps for breath by its mortal inhabitants. Looking around, Teresa saw that the scamps had either fled or been killed. Volsinius quickly moved to the door and slammed it shut. The immediate threat over, Teresa knelt on the floor beside Simplicia.

"How bad is it?" she murmured, biting her lower lip as she gingerly lifted the torn strands of dirty flax from the old woman's legs. Her heart lurched at the sight of the bloody claw marks that raked across the old woman's wrinkled flesh.

"Oh, I've had worse from rats," the beggar said. Yet Teresa could not fail to notice how the Imperial had to force the jaunty words from clenched teeth, nor could she miss the grimace that crossed the old woman's features.

"I can make some healing potions," Teresa said, shucking the pack from her back and digging for her mortar and pestle. "Just give me a few minutes."

"No," Simplicia said, her voice hard as iron now. "Save that for something worse."

Then Jensine was kneeling beside the two of them, and her thick fingers effortlessly tore up the already ruined bottom of Simplicia's skirt into bandages. "You go help the others with the door," the shopkeeper said to Teresa, nodding toward the men who were now piling tables, chairs, and even shelves against the entrance. "I'll take care of our lady friend here."

* * *

"That barricade is not going to hold for long," Teresa said in a quiet voice, eyeing the furniture and dead scamps piled at the entrance of the shop. As if to underscore her point, the door buckled as something that must have been large and heavy crashed against it from the other side. Reaching into the quiver at her hip with a creak of leather, the pale Bosmer drew forth an arrow and set it upon her longbow.

"If you have any armor or weapons, you had better get them now," Volsinius said as he stepped closer to the barricade and raised his sword and shield. The legionary was clad from head to toe in armor plate, and his heavy steps came with a clangor of steel on steel. Yet somehow his motions were not as ponderous as Teresa would expect from someone in so much metal. She could hardly imagine even being able to walk in it, let alone fight, yet he made it seem effortless. "I'll hold them off as long as I can, but just in case..."

Teresa still could not believe that Volsinius had just saved her life. It made her feel strange to think that way about the legionary. Yet here he was, the monster from her childhood, fighting for her very life.

"Go through Teresa's stuff, its filled with bandit armor and weapons." Simplicia cried, hobbling to where the sacks of loot still lay against the counter. Upending them, she spilled cuirasses of hide and leather across the floor, along with greaves, gauntlets, axes, and maces.

Teresa watched as the beggar and the others in the shop began picking up pieces of armor and hurried to put them on. They looked as confounded by the buckles and straps as she had been the first time she had to put on her own armor. The bard's stories always made it sound easy, but in reality armor was not something you could slip into as like a pair of breeches.

Teresa was thankful for her own bandit-style hide and leather armor. It might be revealing, but the Fire Shield that Morcant had enchanted it with had already proven its worth against the scamps. Thank goodness she had come across the Witch, she thought, otherwise where would she be?

That made her think of the tarot reading the Bosmer magician had done for her. The Tower, the Daedric Prince, Death. The cards rose in her memory, grimly echoed by the scene of horror within Jensine's shop. She had hoped that the reading had been about the Battle of Bruma, that it had all been over.

Yet as she looked at Volsinius, the image of the Knight of Swords also came to her mind. "This aids you," the Witch's voice floated in her memory. "A powerful fighter, who will be at your side when you need him most."

With that thought the planks in the center of the door burst inward, creating a fist-sized hole in the wood. Teresa thought she could see something dark and scaly through the opening. A moment later a great beak chomped into the edge of the aperture and tore another chunk of wood loose, widening the breach.

"Step aside," Teresa found herself saying to Volsinius as she moved up to the barricade. The legionary briefly turned to face her, and she was not sure if she should be pleased with the look of surprise within the Y-shaped slit in his helmet or not. But he did move aside as she raised her longbow and pulled it to half tension. Still, he held his sword and shield at the ready.

Letting out half of her breath, Teresa carefully sighted her arrow on the breach. Then she pulled the waxed string back to her cheek and loosed. A feathered shaft blossomed from the hole, and a hiss of what could only be pain issued from the other side of the door.

Wasting no time, Teresa drew forth another arrow and sent it chasing after the first. Now the shafts of both missiles vanished as they were pulled through the opening by whatever they were lodged within. The hissing stopped, and a loud thump came from the other side of the door.

"By Talos I think you killed it!" Volsinius declared, and turned once more to look at Teresa. This time it was with what she took to be grudging admiration. "You certainly have come a long way from that little street urchin stealing sweet rolls."

"You remembered that?" Teresa was stunned. She had thought he did not recognize her anymore, not after dyeing her hair red and starting her new life as a forester.

"Of course I remember," the soldier said, "oh you threw me for a while with the hair, but I always remember a face."

Posted by: D.Foxy Jul 2 2010, 05:01 PM

HELL YEAH!!!

That final dialogue...it was the one from the first story, and one of the pieces I abSOLUTELY loved...

aaaaannd IT'S BACK AGAIN!!! yEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!

:thumbsup:

Posted by: haute ecole rider Jul 2 2010, 06:46 PM

Way to go, Vols, Teresa, Jensine, and Simplicia!

Let's get the one nit out of the way:

An apostrophe ambushed your creatures here.

Do I know the feeling! It is what spurs us into action.


Yay, Jensine!

You have recaptured the sheer tension and exhilaration and fast pace of the Crisis here. I truly enjoyed this rewrite - it is much tighter and quicker-paced than before.

Posted by: Acadian Jul 2 2010, 06:51 PM

The action was immersive and heartpounding.

Buffy, sitting safely on my shoulder and reading along, shuddered when she realized that was a CLANNFEAR trying to get into the shop! Nice shooting, Teresa!

Lots of nice little touches, including the due you gave to donning body armor.

Reviewing the source of Teresa's own armor was a nice touch and fit beautifully with the way you tied the tarot cards from Morcant into the story. It was at that point, and with more than a faint smile, that I realized the full meaning of the wonderful name you gave this chapter. Knight of Swords, indeed.

Just when I thought it couldn't get any better, you finished by letting us know that Vols really did remember his encounter with the very young Teresa.

Fabulous!

Posted by: Olen Jul 3 2010, 03:56 PM

That was quite a part, one of the best I'd go so far as to say. Pleanty of action but also a lot of charactery stuff and all seamless, I echo Acadian's comment on how well tieing her armour into leading to the tarot and Morcant worked.

That image really worked for me, I could see the bone blood and grey goo fly...

That's a powerful ending you gave it too, and a double cliffy. Not only is she barricaded in a shop with hordes of daedra outside but there's some juicy interaction to come too.

Posted by: SubRosa Jul 4 2010, 05:05 PM

D.Foxy: Thank you Fox. That line was very important, as so much of the interaction between Vols and Teresa for the rest of this chapter (both spoken and especially unspoken), stems from it.


haute ecole rider: Thank you h.e.o. I put a lot more action into this chapter, and I hope the fast pace will keep it from feeling redundant after a while.

Also thank you for rescuing my creatures from that nasty apostrophe. Probably one of those snooty Alessian Orderists trying for force itself into my nice, elven word.

Jensine is going to keep that mace for defending her shop. I can already see where it will figure into later chapters.


Acadian: Thank you Acadian. That last segment, and this next one, are where it becomes apparent that Vols is indeed the Knight of Swords from Morcant's prophecy. In fact this is where many things began in that chapter with Morcant finally reach fruition.


Olen: Thank you Olen. As I am sure you noticed, I tend to keep the action to a minimum so it has a greater impact when it does happen. I also like to use it for character development whenever possible.

I am glad people like that line about Jensine killing the scamp. I was channeling years of watching anime into that visual!


Next: More Daedra, and more interaction between Teresa and her unexpected knight.

* * *

Chapter 11e - The Knight of Swords

Then the door buckled under another crash, and completely disintegrated after a second. What looked almost like a man stood in the entrance of the shop. He wore some sort of monstrous-looking metal armor that was rust red and covered with spikes and sharp ridges. In one hand he carried a jagged sword, and in the other a kite-shaped shield. His head was bare, exposing ashen skin and a pair of horns that rose up from his forehead. His eyes were fiery slits that scanned the room before falling upon Teresa.

"Your spine will be my trophy Bosmer!" His voice sent a chill through Teresa, sounding more like razor blades scraping against bare metal than the speech of a living being.

"A dremora!" Volsinius hissed, moving in front of Teresa with his shield up. His mithril sword was held low at his hip, edge parallel to the ground and point forward to stab.

"Give me room to shoot!" Teresa shouted, trying to push the legionary aside with her shoulder. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and every sane part of her was screaming at her to run. But something within her that was cold as Skyrim and hard as steel had risen up to steady her nerves and drive her on, as it always did in times like this

Volsinius moved aside while Teresa drew an arrow from the quiver at her hip. Clutching its shaft near the point, she drew hear arm across her waist to where a small jar hung on her left hip. Popping off the stopper with her thumb, she thrust the arrow into its open mouth and drew it back a moment later, leaving an inky paste smeared over the steel head.

By then the dremora had kicked a path through the corpse and furniture barricade and was charging forward. Teresa brought her bow to full tension in one smooth motion. There was no time to aim. She saw the fiery eyes of the monster in front of her, and simply loosed.

Then something large and unyielding shoved against her shoulder and sent her sprawling to the floor. Teresa heard the crash of metal on metal behind her, and when she turned her head and looked up she saw that Volsinius was standing where she had been an instant before, shield raised high to deflect the dremora's blade. If it had not been for him, she would have been standing there instead, she realized, and would probably have that sword buried in her skull.

As she watched, the legionary punched forward not with his sword, but with his shield. The dremora staggered, and Volsinius' arming sword darted forward like a serpent, striking low at the creature's belly. But the monster regained his balance quick enough to lower his shield and deflect the blow that would have gutted him. A second later it sent its own sword crashing once more into Volsinius' shield. Teresa could do nothing but stare in wonder. From where she lay on the floor they seemed more like a pair of gods trading blows than a mortal man and a monster.

The cold fury within Teresa did not allow her to stare for long however, and her fingers wrapped themselves around her bow. Scrambling to her feet, she reached for another arrow when the dremora suddenly slumped over forward, dropping his weapon and clutching at his midsection. His lips moved as if to speak, but no sound came out.

Volsinius did not spare a moment. He stepped forward and thrust the tip of his sword directly into the exposed flesh where the dremora's neck met his shoulder. A fountain of blood erupted from the terrible wound, yet the Daedra still made no sound. With a flip of his wrist that looked almost effortless, Volsinius tore out the rest of the monster's throat with his blade, and it finally crashed to the floor of the shop at his feet.

"I never landed a real hit till he doubled over like that," the legionary said, tapping his sword against the shaft of the arrow rising from the dremora's breastplate. "What's in that stuff?"

"Nightshade root," Teresa answered as she prepared her next arrow with the poison. "I was not sure if it would work on that thing."

"Good thing you were at point-blank range," Volsinius observed. "Its armor looks strong."

Teresa nodded as she poisoned another arrow and set it to the nock of her longbow. Simplicia and the others were now stepping up, clad in a hodgepodge of ill-fitting leather armor, with either an axe or mace in hand. If it were any other time Teresa would have laughed at how ridiculous they looked. But as it was she was having a hard enough time keeping her fingers from shaking on her bow.

"Volsinius I..." her lips tried to form the words to show her gratitude to the legionary. Yet as she looked through the slits in his helmet to his cold blue eyes, she found that her voice had deserted her.

She knew that she would be dead if it not for him, again, yet she could still not bring herself to even thank the legionary. She turned her face down to the corpse of the dremora at their feet, and was keenly aware of how red her cheeks were turning.

"There is nothing to say citizen," the legionary rasped. He strode to the doorway and began throwing junk back into the opening to rebuild the barrier. "We are here to serve."

Teresa had heard the men and women of the Imperial Legion say that a thousand times, but never to her until a few weeks ago. Once more her tongue felt the empty spot between her teeth, and she remembered that gauntleted fist crashing against her cheek. What do you do when the monster of your childhood saves your life? she wondered.

"Are you ok?" Teresa heard Simplicia ask, and she looked up just as the older woman brushed the red hair from her face to caress the same cheek that Volsinius had struck years before. "You had me scared to death."

Teresa wanted to say that she was just as frightened, but she did not think that the elderly beggar needed to hear that right now. Instead she put a comforting hand on Simplicia's leather-clad shoulder and forced a faint smile to her lips. She was just glad that both of them were still alive.

"What is going on out there?" Jensine asked, gingerly stepping near the doorway where Volsinius stood, but not too near...

"It looks like all Oblivion has broken loose," the legionary said, "this must be what it was like at Kvatch..., or Bruma."

"Bruma?" asked Gelephor, clutching an axe in his hand so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. "What about Bruma?"

"There was a big battle there a few days ago," Teresa found herself saying. "The whole army was there, and the new Emperor, and they stopped the Daedra."

"You're well informed," Volsinius rumbled, his eyes narrowing within the slits of his helmet. "We only just got the news from a courier a few minutes before all this started."

"But they stopped them right?" Jensine said, grasping onto that fact like a drowning woman onto a piece of driftwood. "So what are they doing here?"

"There must still be some left." Volsinius stated the obvious. "Most of the Fifth are still up at Bruma, so this is a damned bad time for it too. At least the Emperor's here. He stopped them before, he'll do it again. We just have to dig in our heels and hold out until then."

The Emperor! Teresa thought. He had been at Kvatch, she realized. Jauffre had sent Julian there to get him. Then he was at Bruma, and now here in the city. Every Daedric attack had been on a place where he was. They were after Martin!

Volsinius raised his shield then, and a moment later one of the massive crocodilian Daedra hurtled through the doorway and crashed against it. The legionary staggered backward with the daedroth's claws still wrapped around the edge of his shield. As Teresa watched in horror, she saw its long, serpentine head dart forward over the rim of his shield and at the soldier's head.

Somehow Volsinius threw his sword in front of his face, and the creature's jaws snapped around it rather than his head. The legionary tried to slash with it and rip the Daedra's jaws in half. But Teresa could see he was still off-balance, and was unable to get the strength of his body behind the motion. Instead the monster snapped its head to one side, tearing the sword from Volsinius' grip and spitting it across the room.

Teresa leaped into action then, darting forward right beside Volsinius. The wood elf saw the Daedra's head rear back for another strike, jaws gaping wide. She brought her bow to full tension in one swift motion, and the monster's head rushed forward as she loosed. A moment later it whipped back again with a brief flash of light. The feathered shaft of her arrow sprouted from the roof of its mouth, and its steel head erupted from the back of its skull.

The massive beast fell to the floor of the shop a moment later, still clutching Volsinius' shield in its claws. The legionary would have fallen with it if Teresa and Jensine had not been there to steady him. Once he had his legs under him, he used his free hand to pry the monster's dead claws from his shield.

"Those things hit harder than a troll," he gasped. "I think I saw the flash of a Shield spell when you hit it too. That was good shooting Bosmer."

Teresa had no time to think of a reply, because at that moment another of the dremora came charging into the shop, this one armed with a wickedly-flanged mace. Before either she or Volsinius could react, Gelephor, the Redguard, and even Simplicia rushed forward from all sides and hacked at it with their weapons. For a moment it staggered under the assault, but then it regained its feet and sent Gelephor flying with a backhanded swat of his mace.

Teresa drew forth another arrow and set it on her bow. Pulling it to half tension, she tried to sight in on the monster. But Simplicia, the Redguard, and now Jensine were clustered around it. She could not shoot without hitting one of them. She lowered her bow and tried to move to get a better angle, but there was always someone in the way. Then suddenly the dremora dropped to the floor with the Redguard's axe buried in the back of its skull.

Gelephor did not rise however, or make a sound. A moment later Jensine found that he was dead, his ribs crushed by that single blow of the dremora's mace.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Jul 4 2010, 05:58 PM

It was wonderful to see the citizen rally with the second dremora - they weren't about to let Vols and Teresa do all the fighting by themselves, were they?

Yet it was sad to see Gelephor die, and just when his axe dealt the death blow to that dremora, too!

Such is battle, and though the scale is much smaller than Bruma, it is no less intense.

Posted by: Acadian Jul 4 2010, 07:37 PM

This was magnificent! Character interaction and development within the crucible of a brutal fight. Teresa's feelings are powerfully and well-presented.

From where she lay on the floor they seemed more like a pair of gods trading blows than a mortal man and a monster.
- What a chillingly powerful image!

"But they stopped them right?" Jensine said, grasping onto that fact like a drowning woman onto a piece of driftwood.
- This was wonderfully evocative.

She brought her bow to full tension in one swift motion, and the monster's head rushed forward as she loosed. A moment later it whipped back again with a brief flash of light. The feathered shaft of her arrow sprouted from the roof of its mouth, and its steel head erupted from the back of its skull.
- This made me cheer for the lethal power and beauty of the longbow.

Teresa drew forth another arrow and set it on her bow. Pulling it to half tension, she tried to sight in on the monster. But Simplicia, the Redguard, and now Jensine were clustered around it. She could not shoot without hitting one of them. She lowered her bow and tried to move to get a better angle, but there was always someone in the way. Then suddenly the dremora dropped to the floor with the Redguard's axe buried in the back of its skull.
- Buffy was screaming and jumping about as we read this. How well we know the frustration of helplessly trying to take a safe shot among fast moving friends and foes. You captured it perfectly!

Posted by: Olen Jul 4 2010, 11:50 PM

I like how you protrayed the awkwardness that Teresa felt in thanking Vols, it rang true and added a side of character to the action which you always seem to manage to include. It makes a big difference and the result is far more than the sum of the two.

You captured both the difficulty faced by ranged weapons firing into melees and also the difficulty of facing multiple opponents even if they are weak (as the dremora found to its cost).

Nice accuricy in choosing the most poisonous part of the plant, I've never understood beth choosing the flower in game. It might have been an idea to mention a second ingregient though because I don't think nightshade is a particularly quick poison (though I could be wrong, it certainly isn't very potent (less than ~7grams of root is quite survivable)). But that does assume their nightshade is the same as ours.

Anyway great part, I do wonder if they will stay hiding though...

Posted by: Winter Wolf Jul 5 2010, 07:15 AM

From where she lay on the floor they seemed more like a pair of gods trading blows than a mortal man and a monster.
- I agree with Acadian. This is epic description for the moment of the battle. Visceral!

Simplicia and the others were now stepping up, clad in a hodgepodge of ill-fitting leather armor, with either an axe or mace in hand.
- This really made me laugh. The battle is over and up they step.

The way you write Vols is so good. Teresa is always concerned about her treatment is the past but Vols is always the first to put it all on the line for her. The soldier in him overrules everything.

Posted by: SubRosa Jul 6 2010, 04:44 PM

haute ecole rider: Thank you h.e.o. I invoked the Angry Peasant Law with that segment, showing how a mob of ordinary people can be extremely dangerous when their backs are to the wall.


Acadian: Thank you Acadian. This chapter is now chock full of fighting, but that one line about gods trading blows was always one of my favorites.


Olen: Thank you Olen. I did some research in real world poisons before eventually deciding upon nightshade as being Teresa's toxin of choice. You are correct that real nightshade would not be so deadly, so fast. Real world poisons cannot compete with the ones we see in video games. Even King Cobra venom usually takes 30-45 minutes to kill.

I put it down to the fact that Teresa is not just an ordinary person using nightshade, but rather an alchemist. So just as she can draw magical restorative qualities out of a sprig of lavender, she can pull magical poisonous qualities out of the nightshade, making it much more powerful than it otherwise would be.

What is really amazing is how many toxic plants are perfectly safe to eat in Oblivion. Monkshood, mandrake, amanita, etc... I don't think Bethesda researched many of the plants they decided to include.


Winter Wolf: Vols is meant to be that multi-faceted character you are seeing. On one hand he represents the worst of authority. In that regard he has become a very powerful symbol in Teresa's mind of the oppression of poor people like herself. Yet on the other hand he also represents the good in the military/police, being the shield of ordinary people against danger. As such, he plays a very key role in Teresa's feelings for the Imperial Legion.


All: After some ruminations in the bathtub, I have gone back an made Volsinus' sword mithril. This is part of a bit of world-building, in which all centurions, optios, and file leaders will be armed with them to fight against critters like ghosts and will-o-the-wisps, who are immune to normal weapons. Where the regular rank and file would be armed with steel. I know in the game every legionary has a silver sword, but giving them each a mithril one seems too unrealistic. It would just cost too much. The Empire is already spending a ton of money on them with their armor and training as it is.

Next, more of our band fall before the never-ending tide of Daedra, and Simplicia shows what a parent is capable of when their children are threatened.


* * *

Chapter 11f - The Knight of Swords

The Daedra continued to pour from the Oblivion Gate outside the front door. There were larger versions of the scamps they had previously fought, another of the daedroth, and many more dremora. Somehow they held them off, and more than once it was the armor and weapons that Teresa had taken from Vilverin that made the difference. Especially the suit which Morcant had enchanted for Teresa, for it held up to everything the Daedra threw at her.

Still, their good fortune could not last forever under the onslaught. With an Oblivion Gate directly outside the front door, the first thing every Daedra that came through it saw was the shop. Because of that there seemed to be a never-ending tide of the monsters charging in. The Redguard was the next to die, pummeled to death by a clannfear that had burst into the shop with a flame atronach.

Teresa had been able to put herself in the way of most of the second creature's fiery blasts, her enchanted armor blunting the heat of the magical flames. Yet when the clannfear came after her, she was forced to scramble on top of the counter to avoid being crushed by the beast's headlong charge.

The wood and glass frame of the counter shattered under the impact, and Teresa found herself falling behind it. Looking up, she saw Jensine pound on the bony sail that ringed the monster's skull with her Dwemer mace. Yet each strike brought a wince of pain from the woman, who soon dropped to the floor with blood caking her head. That was when Teresa remembered what Varieties of Daedra had said about clannfears. They magically reflected some of the harm done to them back upon their attackers.

Yet that did not work on missiles, or magic, she recalled. Thanks to Jensine, she had the time to get back to her feet and nock another arrow. As the monster climbed over the wreck of the counter, she drilled an arrow through one of its eyes from less than a foot away.

Looking across the shop, she saw the flame atronach drive a roundhouse punch into the elven body shield that Simplicia held. The old woman went sprawling to the floor, the enchanted shield falling from her hand. Teresa scrambled for an arrow with shaking fingers as the atronach stepped closer, raising a hand and pointing it at the stunned beggar. No! Teresa cried silently, frantically trying to fix the arrow to her bowstring.

A bright streak of flame erupted from the Daedra's fingertips. Yet the blaze did not engulf Simplicia. For Volsinius had stepped in front of her at the last second, and instead the yellow fire spilled across his shield. He staggered under the blast, and the wooden core of his shield ignited with even brighter flame, forcing him to hurl it aside.

The atronach raised its arm, pointing directly at the legionary's head. He tried to turn away, but was not quite fast enough, and fire spilled across the left side of the helmet. Now the legionary did scream. He fell, grabbing for his helmet, and Teresa could see fire licking from the slit cut within its face.

But then she had an arrow on her string, and let fly. The flame atronach jerked to the side as it drove into its armpit. Turning to face Teresa, it sent a bolt of fire after her. She did not bother to dodge, and allowed the magical flames to harmlessly wash over her. Then she sent another arrow into the feminine torso of the Daedra. It staggered once more, and then Simplicia was on her feet again, driving her axe into its skull.

* * *

Volsinius' helmet lay on the stone floor, still glowing from heat beside the ashes of his shield. His head was blackened from top to bottom with what looked like soot, and what little hair he may have had before was gone, even his eyebrows. Teresa wondered how much of the ashen residue on his face was from the burning of his helmet liner, and how much was his own flesh? His left eye was shut, but his right shone with the same glacial hardness it had always possessed as he rose to his feet and gathered up his mithril blade.

"We need to get upstairs," he rumbled, eyeing the open doorway, whose frame was bathed in the red-orange glow of the Gate outside. "They can only come at us one at a time on the staircase."

So Teresa and Simplicia gathered up Jensine and carried her to the stairs at the side of the shop. The merchant's head was covered in blood, and Teresa thought she could see white pieces of bone showing. Yet Jensine still breathed. She had better, Teresa thought, she had forced the last of her healing potions down the shopkeeper's throat before picking her up.

They found the door was locked, but Simplicia discovered the key on a ring of them hanging from Jensine's waist. Within they found a single large room that was divided into sleeping, kitchen, dining, and sitting areas. At any other time Teresa would have been amazed at the linen tapestries and paintings that hung from the walls, the bookcase filled with leather-bound volumes, or even the painted vases which held flowers and other plants. She knew it was entirely ordinary, but to her street urchin's eyes it was practically a palace. Yet all she could think of now was to throw whatever furniture she could gather against the door behind her.

Glancing out a window as she worked, the wood elf could see that the street was pure chaos. All manner of Daedra stalked here and there, chasing down whatever mortals showed themselves. Some of the people fought back however, and it was not only mortal bodies that littered the cobblestones. The air was filled with screams and the stench of burning wood and flesh. It was a nightmare come true, and once more the forester was reminded of the Tower card. Everything Morcant had predicted had come true, she thought.

A pounding at the door brought Teresa around. A moment later it burst open with a sizzling of lightning, and Teresa could feel her hair standing on end. Within the doorway stood a dremora armed with a mace and shield. Behind him stood another with a staff, whose twisted end still smoldered from released energy.

Volsinius rushed forward, shoving at the first dremora and trying to push him down the stairs. The monster held his ground though, and instead it was the legionary who was thrown back. The dremora's mace licked out, and the soldier raised his left arm to block it. The flanged head of the weapon struck the legion armor with a loud crack, and Volsinius staggered. While the soldier was still off-balance, the dremora followed with a thrust of his mace, burying the spike at its tip deeply into the legionary's gut. Yet still Volsinius did not fall. Somehow he took hold of the Daedric weapon with one gauntleted hand and held it fast. His own sword struck out then, but was pushed aside by the dremora's shield.

Then one of the Teresa's poisoned arrows buried itself under the dremora's extended right arm, piercing the weaker mail there. The dremora let go of his mace and fell to one knee. That gave the magician behind him room to see however, and the next thing Teresa knew lightning was dancing in front of her eyes.

Her body burned, and she could not restrain the scream that tore through her lips. Most of the pain subsided a moment later, and shaking her head, she found herself lying on the floor, smoke curling up from her frame. She tried to rise, but agony lanced through her belly, causing her to fall back to the floor. Looking down, she saw that her leather and hide cuirass had virtually disintegrated, and she hoped the blackened mass she saw beneath it was only the linen tunic she wore underneath, and not her flesh.

Her heart was a hammer in her chest. She had to do something, she realized, or they were all doomed. She saw Volsinius struggling to pull the mace tip from his stomach, now on his knees in front of the dremora who had stabbed him. Simplicia stepped beside him and pummeled at the dremora with her axe, yet its armor was strong, and her blows fell away with no obvious effect. Still, mace lost, and poison coursing through its body, the dremora did not rise to strike back at the beggar.

Then the dremora mage filled Teresa's vision, and she saw its staff lower. Agony shot through her body as once again lightning engulfed her. The stench of burning meat filled her nostrils, and the shrill sound of screaming was in her ears. The entire world vanished into a haze of white hot anguish.

When the room swam back into view, Teresa found Simplica standing over the body of the dremora mage, bloody axe in hand. Behind her lay the dremora maceman, glassy eyes staring at the ceiling overhead. Volsinius lay face-down nearby, and the wood elf was not sure if he still breathed or not.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Jul 6 2010, 05:25 PM

Talk about the chaos of war.

You have captured the fast pace and frenetic activity that is all too typical of CQ combat. Also, the limited endurance of people holding fast on a piece of land against an endless onslaught is well captured on a smaller scale here.

I think you have added more detail this time around. However, one little detail seems to have fled:

While I'm sure the arrow packs quite a sting, I think the "r" has panicked and disappeared on you!

Posted by: Acadian Jul 6 2010, 05:59 PM

gRRRRRRitty! Wow! Let my heart slow, whew.

Non stop action that just kept building. Your combat descriptions were painfully immersive. Bravo, SubRosa!

Everyone was heroic, but so very real and human (or elven as the case may be) in their limitations.

I really liked the 'optional' part you put in describing Teresa's reaction to seeing Jensine's private quarters upstairs. The heat of battle does not filter 100% of one's 'normal' thoughts out of mind. Oddly, it reminded me of wonderful bobg describing Sarrah's unrelated thoughts such as the body odor of her foe or cooking dinner with Angel during a deadly melee encounter. A small and brilliant diversion allowing readers to catch their breath as the action shifted upstairs.

I look forward to the aftermath of this with intrepidation. So much damage to so many lives. You make it very clear that this pitched battle was just one of countless simultaneous 'fire fights' in the city.


nits?

The latter part of this seems to be missing a word? Perhaps: ...through it saw was the shop.

Similarly, perhaps a missing word in the latter part of this passage as well? ...bathed in the red-orange glow {of / from / cast by?} the gate outside.

Posted by: D.Foxy Jul 6 2010, 06:04 PM

Who makes this old warrior's heart pound, lips snarl, and feet subconciously dance by her writing?


Who is ... SUB ROSA!!!


Jeopardy question answered!!!

Posted by: Olen Jul 6 2010, 07:35 PM

Wow... That was gritty, violent, and real. The fast paced confusion and desperate fighting was well caught, as was the wearing down of them by the daedra. Nice detail with the clanfear damaging Jensine, things like that really make this story stand out in terms of worldbuilding and bringing the lore to life.

That gate had better shut pretty soon now though! Simplicia with an axe is only going to last so long... And neither will my patience, after such an exciting fast paced part I want more

I agree that Beth's choice of ingredient effects are quite bizarre... but I suppose they had to work with gameplay mechanics. There are a few fast action natural poisons, strychnine would be the main one (though non of the ingredients in game have much in).

My only mild nit would be:
"Volsinius' helmet lay on the floor, the left side melted into a shapeless mass of steel beside the ashes of his shield. His head was blackened from top to bottom with what looked like soot, and what little hair he may have had before was gone, even his eyebrows." -- after the gritty realism of the rest of it this stuck out a bit, if the heat was enough to melt the steel I would have thought it would taken his face clean off even through the helmet.

Posted by: Remko Jul 7 2010, 11:44 AM

I agree with Olen on the steelpart however; seeing it is plate, it exchanges heat SUPER fast.

Posted by: SubRosa Jul 8 2010, 05:53 PM

haute ecole rider: Thank you h.e.o. Fast-paced is what I am trying for. That "r" probably got scared away by the Clannfear. I convinced it that it was safe to return however.


Acadian: Thank you Acadian. Heroic yet with real limits is what I always want to portray in battle scenes. Uber characters get boring pretty quickly.

Thank you for spotting my missing words in those passages. They probably ran off with haute's "r" above. The MPs have rounded them up and returned them back to their units now.


D.Foxy: Thank you DF.


Olen & Remko: Thank you Olen. Yours and Remko's nit has been addressed.


Next: Teresa and Simplicia are all that remain of our desperate band, and the Daedra continue to attack. However, they have one last card to play...


* * *

Chapter 11g - The Knight of Swords

"Oh my baby girl!" Simplicia cried out, hobbling to Teresa's supine form and cradling her in her arms. The wood elf's body screamed in agony at the Imperial's touch, yet somehow the old woman's embrace cut through all of that. It was like she was a child all over again, crying after being beaten up by the bigger kids, and for a few moments she found comfort in the old woman's arms.

But the pain that lanced through her would not be held at bay. Gritting her teeth, she formed the image of her healing spell in mind. Picturing herself healthy and whole, she gathered up her magicka into her fist. Letting it go, a white sphere of light erupted from her fingers, washing over her body like cool water on a hot day.

Teresa felt some of the pain subside then, but her body still ached. Again and again, she called up her magicka and loosed it into her healing spell, until finally she had none left within her. By then she was able to climb to her feet, Simplicia steadying her. Her eyes fell upon her backpack, and she remembered Morcant's parting gift.

"There's a scroll in my pack," she croaked, nodding toward the leather bag. "Get it. Use it when they come again."

"A scroll?" Simplicia muttered, hobbling across the room on bloody legs and stooping before the pack. Teresa thought she heard footsteps on the stair below, and drew forth another arrow from her quiver. The last one, she thought, burying its tip into the poisoned jar at her hip.

The old woman drew forth the rolled up parchment when a dremora swordsman came in. The wood elf could see others of its kind on the stair behind it. Raising her bow, she took careful aim and loosed. Yet the Oblivion-spawn lifted its shield, and the missile buried itself harmlessly in its face.

"How do I use it?" Simplicia asked frantically, limping further back in the room with all the speed her aged frame could muster.

"Just read it!" Teresa shouted. Now the dremora was upon her, its sword falling at her head. Out of reflex she threw up her bow stave, and heard it crack as the Daedric steel drove through it. Yet it was enough to slow the weapon, for it only bounced off the hardened leather that remained on her shoulders, rather than taking her arm with it.

Still, that was enough to drive Teresa to the floor. Out of reflex she fixed the symbol of her Flare spell in mind. Yet when she put her hand out, nothing came forth. She had no magicka left, she realized hopelessly, she had used it all on her healing spells moments before.

"Grizzly?" she heard Simplicia say in a voice filled with doubt. Teresa heard a whoosh of energy fill the room. Yet her eyes were taken up by the sight of the dremora standing over her, sword held over his head, so that the point nearly stuck against the high ceiling of the room. Closing her eyes, she gritted her teeth and waited for it to fall, and take her life with it.

Instead the pungent musk of an animal filled her nostrils, and a snuffling noise came to her ears. Opening her eyes once more, she saw a mountain of brown fur rising before her. A massive paw lashed out, and the dremora's head jerked to one side with a loud crack. The Daedra fell like a ragdoll, and Teresa pulled herself to her feet.

Before her stood a grizzly bear, a massive bundle of muscle, fur, fangs, and claws. As she watched, the gigantic animal reared back on its hind legs and stood upright. A roar split through the room as it leaped forward at the other dremora. One raised a shield to defend itself, but was thrown to the floorboards by the massive beast. The bear's muzzle dropped then, and came away black with Daedric blood as the dremora's head rolled away.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v90/subrosa_florens/oblivion/Oblivion437.jpg

The other Daedra turned and fled then. Yet one was not quick enough. The grizzly pounced on it and drove it face-down into the floor. The bear tore apart the armor on the dremora's back, and Teresa was reminded of how the first daedroth had done the same to the Khajiit at the beginning of the attack. Daedric screams filled air, and soon chunks of flesh and bone were being ripped away as well. Within a few minutes the screams ceased, and the bear lifted its stained muzzle to let forth a roar of triumph.

Thank the gods it is on our side, Teresa thought as she watched their gargantuan protector standing in the doorway, and thank Morcant. For without the Witch's scroll, both she and Simplicia would have been dead.

Simplicia came up to her then, with one wary eye upon the bear which she had summoned. Looking down, Teresa saw that her bow was in pieces on the floor. Not that it would have done her much good anymore with no arrows left. Likewise, she saw that her armor was nothing but tatters on her slender frame, rent by claw, fang, swords, and magic.

Better it than me, Teresa thought, and once more she silently thanked Morcant. She knew that her old armor would have never stood up to that punishment. Especially not from the flames. Once again, she owed her life to meeting the Witch.

She limped forward with Simplicia in tow. That is when she was struck by the silence that filled the air. There were no screams, no shouts, no crash of booted feet on the stairs. It was as if somehow the battle had paused, and the world held its breath.

That is when she heard it. A man's voice in her ear, soft and raspy. She knew instantly whose it was, for she had heard it before, raised above the din of battle at Bruma. Martin Septim, the son of Uriel.

"The amulet is shattered, the Daedra are defeated.
With the dragon's blood in the Amulet of Kings,
we have sealed the Gates of Oblivion, forever

The last of the Septims passes now into history.
I go gladly, for I know my sacrifice is not in vain.
I take my place with my father, and my father's fathers.

The Third Age has ended, and a new Age dawns.
When the next Elder Scroll is written, you shall be its scribe.
The shape of the future, the fate of the Empire, these things, now belong to you."

Posted by: haute ecole rider Jul 8 2010, 06:13 PM

And with that, we can now catch our breaths and all fall down in exhaustion!

Thanks to our friend, Morcant's grizzly, we gave those last few daedra what-for! May they never underestimate the beasts of Nirn again!

Whew! I bet you were glad when you finished writing this one!

Posted by: Acadian Jul 8 2010, 06:20 PM

Wonderful SubRosa. Powerful stuff indeed. Poor Teresa, out of airspeed, altitude and ideas (or bow, armor and arrows if you prefer). Thank you Morcant for that scroll!

Many wonderful threads weaving through this. Teresa's relationship with Simplicia, the pitched battle both in and out of Jensine's store, the references to Morcant.

I loved the use of the bear scroll. Similarly, how very powerful to end with Martin's words.

Thanks for the screenie. Here are some more pix of your cast:
Vols:
Dremora:
Morcant:
Simplicia:
Teresa:

Posted by: D.Foxy Jul 9 2010, 02:22 AM

I know something of Ursus Horriblis from personal encounters....600 to 1,200 pounds of beast...


..and I can tell all you readers that SubRosa is, if anything, underestimating the power of a grizzly. These beasts have been known to flip over a two-ton stone boulder just to get to something interesting they have sniffed underneath.

A real Grizzly would not have thrown the dremora to the floorboards with a swipe. If he was using his full power, he would have smashed that dremora THROUGH a wall.

Posted by: Remko Jul 9 2010, 11:21 AM

I once saw a demonstration of a Grizzly Bear's strength by leaving some food in a car.
You'd say a door is secured tightly to the car? Nope, one tear, gone is the door, same goes for the seats. Basically, a bear can turn a car into scrap in mere seconds.

Posted by: haute ecole rider Jul 9 2010, 03:23 PM

Like I said, never underestimate Kynareth's kin!

Posted by: Destri Melarg Jul 9 2010, 11:57 PM

Chapter 11c

So Ray Stevenson as Vols, eh? I can absolutely see it. Now I like Vols even more. As great as Stevenson was as Titus Pullo, I liked him even more as Dagonet in the under-rated King Arthur with Clive Owen and Ioan Gruffud (we shall choose to ignore his unfortunate turn in Punisher: War Zone).

You presentation of the climax of the main quest in the IC is nothing short of amazing. Again I love the fact that Teresa seems to be swept up in the events as they unfold. You move us seamlessly from the mundane occurrences of the day with the perfectly detailed description of Jensine’s and Simplicia’s obvious pride at Teresa’s success in the wilds. Through Jensine’s eyes we are able to see once again how that self-sufficiency shows even in Teresa’s appearance. Then what was an enjoyable interlude goes absolutely bats@#$ insane as the Oblivion Crisis explodes close to home! Excellent.

Chapter 11d

I got completely lost in this chapter. One of the hallmarks of great storytelling is the ability to make your reader forget that he/she is reading a story. We all strive to give the feeling that our reader is experiencing the story right along with the characters. To say that you succeeded in this chapter is a gross understatement. I love how Teresa ignored the scamp at her feet to concentrate on protecting Simplicia. I also loved Jensine’s quick thinking in bashing that scamp with a mace and then dividing the armor from Vilverin amongst the others. The ending with Vols was the icing on the cake, Teresa sure has come a long way from that skinny elf in the oversize leathers killing goblins in the sewers!

Chapter 11e

I agree with Olen: Teresa’s awkwardness in trying to thank Vols really underscores the conflict that she feels towards the man. How often in life do strong emotions turn upon themselves? Love turns to hate and joy turns to rage all too quickly (just ask basketball fans in my home town, Cleveland).

Gelephor’s death was regrettable, but it serves to show us just how precarious the situation is. So far I’ve counted at least six Daedra that have already stormed through Jensine’s door. How much longer can the motley crew inside hold out? I can’t wait to find out.

Chapter 11f

I had it all thought out in my head. I was going to go into great detail about everything there was to like about this chapter. I was all set to wax poetic about the depth and force of your writing of late. But, alas, I reach the end of the chapter and only one thought burns into my mind.

NOT MY ARMOR!!! DAMN!!!!

Chapter 11g

For some truly interesting reading on the subject of grizzly bears check out the journals of the Corps of Discovery. The men who followed Lewis and Clark into the wilderness encountered grizzlies that required the better part of a day and bags full of ammunition to put down! Their descriptions paint the beasts as almost supernatural in their strength and ferocity. Like Foxy and Remko said; those Dremora got off easy.

Posted by: SubRosa Jul 10 2010, 01:11 PM

haute ecole rider: Not finished yet. There is still one more segment in our drama.


Acadian: Thank you Acadian. I had all of this planned when I wrote The Witch of Lake Trasimene. The advantage of working with an outline that stretches far in advance. That last pic of Teresa was absolutely perfect!


D.Foxy: I kept the grizzly low-key on purpose. I did not want it to seem too overdone. It gets the job done, killing everything in sight.


Remko: Those summoned grizzly bears are why the goblins leave Morcant alone! Not to mention why the bandits trade with her, rather than attack.


Destri Melarg: Thank you Destri. Sorry about your armor. It was meant to end this way from the very beginning. Your dwemer mace is still quite whole though, and we will be seeing more of it in the future.

I liked Ray Stevenson in the second Punisher movie. I think he was perfect as Frank Castle. Unfortunately the movie itself stunk, but I do not blame him for that. Check out Outpost. It is a neat little military-horror movie that he stars in.

You noticed the weapons and armor of Vilverin. Like the events of Witch of Lake Trasimene, that chapter too was written with this in mind. If Teresa had not gone there, then she would have never gotten those weapons and armor, and because of that Jensine would not have been able to pick up your namesake's mace and use it on first the scamp attacking Teresa, and later the clannfear. Not to mention the gear that Simplicia and the others used. So here we see the full reason for Raven leading Teresa there in the first place.


Next: The epilogue to our tale, where Teresa faces down the monsters of her past.

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Chapter 11h - The Knight of Swords

Teresa fell to her knees, unable to stop the tears spilling from her eyes. "No!" she sobbed into her hands. "Not him too! Not Martin!"

"What are you talking about?" Simplicia put an arm around Teresa. Blinking through the tears, the wood elf looked up to see a mix of puzzlement and concern upon the old woman's features.

"Didn't you hear?" Teresa murmured. "He's dead. The Emperor's dead."

"What are you talking about?" the beggar wondered aloud, brow furrowing in consternation. "I don't hear anything. And what's this about the Emperor? What makes you say he's dead?"

"I… I heard his voice," Teresa stammered. "He talked to me. You didn't hear him?"

"No," Simplicia said sternly. "And you'd better not go telling people you're hearing voices either. Or they'll think you're crazy."

Both women looked up at the sound of a bell ringing, then another, and another. Climbing to her feet once more, Teresa made her way to the windows, Simplicia hovering beside her. The street was littered with bodies, some of people, some of Daedra. There was no sign of the Oblivion Gate however, nor of anything moving.

The sound of hooves came to the Bosmer's ears, followed by a distant voice. Turning their heads in the direction it was coming from, Teresa and Simplicia found that it was a Khajiit on a black horse. He rode down the street as fast as he could without his horse tripping over the bodies. After a moment Teresa recognized the rider as being Hassiri of the Black Horse Courier. She had seen him handing out copies of the news sheet plenty of times in the past. Simplicia had taught her to read by using them in fact.

"It's over!" the Khajiit cried, waving his hand in the air in triumph. "It's over! The Oblivion Gates are closed! Emperor Martin has summoned Akatosh and banished Mehrunes Dagon!"

The nightmare was over, Teresa thought, finally over. She could see other survivors coming out into the street now. Some were shouting the news as well, and others cheering, but most looked as dazed and tired as she felt. Teresa closed her eyes and thanked every god and goddess she knew to still be alive.

The grizzly bear vanished in a whirl of purple energy then, making Teresa start in surprise. Gazing through the empty space where it had stood moments before, her eyes set upon Volsinius. With everything else, she had forgotten about him. He still lay where he fell, face down in front of the dremora who had stabbed him.

"I think the bugger finally met his match," Simplicia said as she followed Teresa's gaze. "He looks done for."

No! Teresa thought with a sinking feeling in her chest. Not again, not like Gelephor, or the Redguard, or Emperor Uriel. All dead right in front of her eyes, with her unable to do a thing to stop it.

She forced her aching body to stagger across the floor to where the legionary was sprawled in a widening pool of blood. Her scorched limbs screamed in protest at every motion. Yet cross the space to the legionary she did, and with Simplicia's help she rolled him over onto his back.

Both of his eyes were closed, and Teresa was not sure if he was alive or dead. It was only then that she saw that what she had hoped was only soot on the left side of his head was actually a grisly mass of burned flesh. How could he have even stayed on his feet like that? Teresa wondered in amazement, let alone fight?

But the more immediate source of trouble was his stomach. A rent in his armor there was oozing the blood she saw pooling on the floor. With Simplicia's help she frantically tore off his battered cuirass and cut away the thick, padded linen shirt he wore beneath it. His chest rose and fell, showing that he yet lived. Yet his skin beneath was revealed to be a roadmap of black and purple bruises. A round hole was driven into his belly, and it was there that Teresa pressed the remnants of his tunic in an effort to stop the blood welling up from it.

Yet the blood continued to come, flowing steadily around the cloth. It had been the same with Jensine, Teresa remembered. It had only been healing potions that had stopped her head from bleeding. But they had used the last of their potions saving her...

Teresa saw her backpack laying against the side wall of the bedroom. All of the alchemical ingredients she had been gathering for the last week were still in there, she remembered.

"Try your best to hold the bleeding," Teresa told Simplicia, and against the wishes of her body, she rose to her feet and forced herself to walk to her pack. She unceremoniously dumped its contents on the floor and frantically dug through the scattered items until she found her mortar and pestle. Then tearing open a smaller bag that she used to store her ingredients, she yanked out a sprig of lavender and a cap of fly amanita and began grinding them down.

"Are you sure Teresa?" Simplicia asked, looking down at the rent body of the legionary. "You remember who this is don't you?"

Teresa looked up from her mortar and pestle. She remembered that smack across her face as child. The feeling of cold, unyielding steel as it crashed against her jaw. The horrible crack as her tooth broke loose, and the warm, salty taste of blood in her mouth. It was all indelibly burned into her mind, as was how Volsinius had forced her to say "Thank you," as if he were doing her a favor by knocking her teeth out. It had been that or prison though. So Teresa had said it. She had been eight years old, and she had seen it in her head every time she set her eyes on a legionary since.

"I remember," Teresa said, "but I can't just let him die. Not like this."

She lowered her head to her mortar and pestle and concentrated on her work. Using every last effort of will, she created a fine mash of the plants. Then she added a small amount of water from her traveling flask and mixed it all together into a pink solution. Rising and dragging herself across the floor while taking care to spill none of the potion, she knelt beside the legionary's body once more.

Simplicia lifted the soldier's head while Teresa held the mortar up to his mouth. She let the pink fluid gently flow between his lips until it was gone. Then the two of them stared at his body, waiting for some sign that it had worked. A moment later they were rewarded when his bleeding stopped and he coughed up spittle in both their faces.

"Now that is gratitude!" Simplicia laughed. Teresa could not contain a faint smile herself as she tried to wipe away his bloody spit. When she realized that she was only smearing more blood on her face from her gloves she gave up.

"What's so damn funny?" Volsinius growled, opening his right eye and looking from one woman to the other. He tried to lift his body for a moment, but collapsed in a heap as his face contorted in agony. "Can't a man get a moment's peace?"

Teresa looked down at Volsinius' broken form and compared him to the monster of her childhood memories. Somehow, she could not imagine the two were the same, not anymore. Before her lay a man, one filled with flaws and ugliness, but a man nonetheless, and one that had saved her life more than once with no thought to what it had cost him.

She did not know what he was, but he was no monster. Of that she was certain, just as she knew he would no longer haunt her memories.