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

[SubRosa]

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."

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Jan 7 2011, 12:50 AM

[Remko]

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?

[haute ecole rider]

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!

[Destri Melarg]

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?

In addition to haute's detailed analysis, if you’re interested in knowing more, here 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.

[D.Foxy]

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.

[Olen]

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.

"I guess these do not travel well."

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...

[Remko]

Yeah, I liked that too. The fragility of the Alembic and Calcinator is exactly the reason Rales leaves his at home

[SubRosa]

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.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: May 12 2010, 05:17 PM

[D.Foxy]

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!!!

[haute ecole rider]

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.

[Olen]

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 needed a name, and you know how I hate to come up with those.

I'm guessing you know it but if not Tamriel Rebuilt have a reasonable ES (morrowind mainly) based name gen. I certianly use it.

[Destri Melarg]

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!

[Acadian]

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!

[Remko]

Oh, it was awesome if the witch turns out to be related to Teresa but somehow I think that's too obvious for SubRosa.

[SubRosa]

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.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Nov 20 2010, 09:46 PM

[haute ecole rider]

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!

This post has been edited by haute ecole rider: May 14 2010, 06:20 PM

[Remko]

That was heartbreakingly wonderful. I felt for Morcant. Impending doom for her lover... ooohh noes....

[Olen]

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...

[Destri Melarg]

Teresa saw the Witch’s expression fall. She could tell that 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.

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.

[D.Foxy]

Beauty sings in every line.

Once again, Kudos.