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

[Kazaera]

Ooh I caught up I caught up I caught up!

The latest installments are if anything even better than the ones I read before (which must be some sort of paradox, because how can you improve on perfection? ). I love reading Teresa making friends and... *cough cough* more than friends , in the Fighter's Guild. The forest is still where she's in her element, but she's getting more comfortable and confident and sociable outside of them as well, which I love seeing.

Also, Tadrose's pov is amazing and explains a lot about what's going on - previously I'd thought that Tadrose must know how Teresa felt but wasn't saying anything for some reason. Ah, two elves who are too unsure of themselves to see what's right in front of their noses - a match made in heaven! I look forward to see how this particular chain of misunderstandings plays out.

Another note: Simplicia the investigator was absolutely inspired, and I was alternating between grinning and holding my breath with suspense that whole chapter!

[SubRosa]

haute ecole rider: This was indeed the first time one of Teresa's friends died in front of her. There was the Emperor of course, but he was not a friend, but rather more of an icon. She knew Gelephor, who died in Jensine's shop, but he was not really a friend either. Just someone she knew.


Grits: I went back and edited things a bit to make Tadrose's age more clear, along with other things as well.

Goddess, how strange it was to feel so for another after so many years! It had not been since Morrowind, when she had been Teresa's age. But she had been younger then, and foolish enough to let her feelings rule her body. Balen Dres had taught her the folly of that. Had that been only a decade ago? Sometimes it felt like a lifetime had passed since she had lived in Mournhold.


Destri Melarg: You did not expect Tadrose's thought that Teresa and Ancondil are doing the mattress dance? Since you were not the only one, I went back and edited things a bit to show the reasons for Tadrose's faulty leap of logic.

The situation is actually one based on something that happened to me a long time ago. At the time I had a very close friendship with another woman. We spent a lot of time together, gave each other massages, spent hours on the phone almost ever night, etc... We never were lovers, but more than one person assumed that we were, including her husband. Of course I was the last person to learn what everyone else thought.


ghastley: Given what I have seen of most of the female body mods, eating disorders are already part of Tamriel. Not to mention breast implants.


Acadian: There is indeed a great deal Tadrose does not know about Teresa. Most of the events that have defined our stringy wood elf were away from Tadrose, and in many ways Teresa is just as close-mouthed about her private life as Tadrose is. The two of them have a long way to go if they will ever have a relationship.


Olen: Sufficient wine is often the culprit! Speaking of drinking, we will see some of that this coming episode.

Most people do not know about Teresa's religion. Teresa is still figuring it out herself. It was not until her throwdown with the city guard that she openly declared that she was a Witch. Before then, the only times she ever did anything Witchy was with other Witches, like Morcant and Aela. Plus the time she healed the bear, but Witchcraft is not the obvious conclusion for everyone to jump to there, although it would probably get some to start wondering.


Kazaera: Teresa and Tadrose, perfect for each other, and perfectly clueless. It is a lot of fun to write that almost, not quite, relationship. That chapter with Simplicia, Methredhel, and Vols was also a pure delight to write.


Previously on Teresa of the Faint Smile: In our last episode Tadrose brought Teresa back to the Fighters Guild, where they had a quiet talk about Teresa's feelings of guilt over the death of Marius. Next, we find Teresa looking for answers in all the wrong places.


Chapter 37.5 – Redemption

"That is enough of you twig!"

Strong hands shoved Teresa through the door of the Lonely Suitor Lodge. She stumbled along the porch of inn. Then the boards fell away under her feet, and the next thing she knew she was rolling across the cobblestones in front of the three-story dive.

She blinked her eyes when she finally came to a stop, and lifted her head from the street. Now who had put those stairs there? What a silly idea that had been. Thankfully her fall had not given her any bumps or bruises, at least none that she could feel through the haze of shein that fogged her brain.

Her legs felt wet however. Looking down upon herself, she found that she was still clutching a redware bottle of the cheap comberry wine. Half of it appeared to have drained out across her plainly-stitched leather trousers though. With widened eyes, she lifted the lip of the bottle so that no more of the precious shein could escape onto her clothing.

Sparing only a glance at the other revelers coming and going from the South Island inn, Teresa rose on unsteady feet and staggered away into the night. With one hand clutching the neck of the shein bottle, she used the other to brace herself against the walls of the buildings she passed by. The pedestrians she came upon along the way all gave her a wide berth, along with disgusted looks and muttered admonishments.

Then the hard stones of the street vanished from under her feet, and she felt grass beneath her instead. The sound of rushing water came to her ears, and she stumbled as the ground suddenly sloped under her toes. Tumbling down the embankment, she did not come to a stop until she was a dozen paces from the river that cut through the center of Bravil.

But she still had her bottle. That was all that really mattered. Lifting the red pottery to her lips, she poured a mouthful of the sour liquid down her throat. Setting down the nearly empty bottle beside her, she lay back and stared up at the stars overhead.

Each one was a hole rent in the fabric of Mundus, she knew, made by the Aedra who had created the world. They had not found it to be a place of beauty however, but rather an abomination. No, to them it was a mound of blood, gore, severed limbs, and mangled corpses. Nirn was nothing less than an abattoir of gods, a slaughterhouse that they had created themselves, of themselves. No wonder they had fled in horror.

Teresa wished that she could flee it as well. Yet the rotting flesh of Mundus held her tight. There would be no escape for her. She closed her eyes, and saw the dead face of Marius Helvius staring back at her.

"What is that you are drinking?" a voice floated through the darkness, "hemlock?"

Teresa opened her eyes. Looming above her was a city guardsman. Only unlike Marius, he still walked. She sat up, and found that it was not grass beneath her, but blackened dirt. It seemed as if it had been scorched by some great heat. Glancing about, she saw cheap, wood-framed houses looming to either side, and before them a wooden walkway connecting the homes to the docks below.

"Go away," Teresa growled. "I'm not in the mood for you."

"No, it looks more like you are in the mood to drown your sorrows." Instead of leaving, the guardsman sat down beside Teresa with a jingle of steel rings. He leaned down to sniff at the bottle sitting between them, and wrinkled his nose. "Only wine? Why not flin, or whiskey?"

"Because those taste like minotaur dreck." Teresa muttered. "Besides, you can't stay evenly plastered on whiskey."

"And you cannot on wine either I see," the guard countered wryly. "Do you have some place to go to sleep it off? You're just a few feet away from going for a permanent swim."

"I'm not as drunk as you think I am!" Teresa cried. She reached down for the bottle, and once again upended it over her mouth. "Not drunk enough at least."

"Enough for what?"

"To stop seeing him," Teresa mumbled. "Hey, shouldn't you be out protecting skooma dealers? Or other gangsters?"

"I have no better place to be than here," the man said. His hair seemed to be light, but his skin was darker than a Nord's ought to be. Still, it was night, so it was hard for her to be certain. Especially when his face kept swimming in and out of focus…

"You're not Gaius," Teresa said, "and you're not Marius. Marius is dead after all. So which one are you?"

"Cassius," the guardsman said. "Cassius Longinus, at your service."

"I'm-"

"Teresa, yes I know," the guardsman said, and the forester was now sure he was a Colovian. "Everyone in Bravil knows you."

"Do they know Marius Helvius?" Teresa said. "I knew him. I talked to him almost every day. But I didn't know him at all. I don't know if he had a family, or who his friends were. I don't know if he was even from Bravil. I didn't know a thing about him, and now he's dead because of me."

"Marius is dead to sure," Cassius said, "but not because of you. His fate was his to make, and he did exactly that."

"Spare me the sermon," Teresa spat. "I've heard it already. No flowery words will change the fact that he's rotting meat."

"Teresa, why do you think we join the guard?" Cassius asked. "Fame? fortune? adventure? No one ever finds those things under this surcoat. Even the ones in the skooma paychest are not rich. They just are not as poor as the rest of us."

"You just like to lord it over people, and push them around when they're down," Teresa murmured.

"If you look, you will find guardsmen like that," Cassius admitted. "But you will also find people who are dedicated to our community. Even the crooked ones are mostly just trying to make things better for their families. They've just lost the belief that they can make a difference is all."

"Marius wasn't in the moon-sugar paychest," Teresa said.

"No, he was not," Cassius said. "I knew Marius. I have seen many like him in my years. He came to Bravil for redemption, and you gave it to him this afternoon. I know that might sound ridiculous to you, but it is true."

Teresa stared at the guardsman. She squinted to see better, but it was of little help. She wished that the ground would stop spinning. It would be easier to focus on him if she was not fighting to keep from falling off it all the time.

"Marius came here a month before you did," the guard continued. "He never spoke much of his past, but I could see it all in his eyes. He was from the Imperial City. He had been there during the Oblivion Crisis. He lost his nerve then, and people died. He came here to set things right. With himself, if no one else."

"You see Teresa, no matter how far you run - how much of that you drink -you cannot escape from yourself." The guardsman pointed to the bottle of shein. "Marius found that out when he came here. So he dug in his heels, and he did what he knew was right. His spirit rests easy now, because by giving his life, he found himself again. In the end, that is the best anyone can ever hope for."

The guardsman rose to his feet. Staring up, Teresa saw that his towering frame seemed to glow against the backdrop of the stars. He was surrounded by a nimbus of energy, like those that sprouted from the Arimer star wells. When she looked in his eyes, she saw the stars themselves, tiny holes leading the way to Aetherius.

The wood elf shook her head violently. Looking back, she saw that Cassius was just an ordinary Colovian.

"Time to dig in your heels Teresa." His hand reached down to her, and she found herself reaching out to take it. The next thing she knew she was on her feet once more. She leaned against the guardsman, and smelled the mineral oil that protected the steel rings of his armor. "Come on, let's get you back to your guild hall. Tomorrow is a new day."

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Nov 10 2011, 05:04 AM

[haute ecole rider]

Julian is asking where in 'blivion was this Cassius Longinus when she was drunk and stoned in Bravil??????? She could have used a helping hand then, instead of the cold glare from Viera Lerus!

Very well written scene, and totally fitting of our redheaded Bosmer bowmer. Somehow I am not surprised to see her having this much trouble with Marius's death - after all, she had connected with him, and now he's dead. I can understand her logic, even when I know it's wrong.

And good on Cassius for taking the time to talk to her about Marius, to tell her a little bit more about him so that she can come to terms with his death. It still won't be easy, but it's no longer impossible, it seems.

[Acadian]

This was beautifully done! Nothing good happens at the Star Wars Cantina Lonely Suitor Lodge as the dejected, rejected and ejected tipsy Teresa learned. You showed us her excess with the wine very well. Cassius was a lifesaver and his chat with Teresa was truly inspirational. I hope it sticks - or at least starts to. Wonderful background on Marius.

Nit: 'She reached down the bottle, and once again upended it over her mouth.'
I recommend inserting a 'for' after the word 'down'.

This post has been edited by Acadian: Aug 19 2011, 01:47 AM

[Grits]

Oh dear, a bender. I’m sure her friends at the FG would have been happy to get her drunk, but I would expect Teresa to go off on her own this way.

Each one was a hole rent in the fabric of Mundus, she knew, made by the Aedra who had created the world. They had not found it to be a place of beauty however, but rather an abomination. No, to them it was a mound of blood, gore, severed limbs, and mangled corpses. Nirn was nothing less than an abattoir of gods, a slaughterhouse that they had created themselves, of themselves. No wonder they had fled in horror.

I found these thoughts very interesting. It’s how I think a Mythic Dawn cultist might view the world. Of course, I really hope that Teresa’s view changes again after the hangover wears off!

How natural that she would try to deal with loss this way, I think many can relate to it. I love that she had the talk from another guardsman. I hope she remembers it in the morning.

[ghastley]

Nit: brace herself against the walls of the buildings

A lot of life's rituals are partly for the onlookers, and the ceremonial drunk to mark a passing is no different. Hopefully Teresa will feel she's completed it now, and move on to the next part - doing good in memory of Marius. Especially as she's found another guard in the plus column.

[Destri Melarg]

This segment was wonderfully written, and I thought that Cassius simply shined. But, and I admit that it might just be me, everything seemed a little rushed somehow. Maybe it was the brevity of Teresa’s ‘bender’, or the fact that it happens the very same night that strains credulity a little. Such benders are more the result of self-loathing than self-pity. And that kind of self-loathing is not fostered by a single event, but by a long train of perceived abuses. Wouldn’t the Teresa that we know and love distance herself from Bravil for a time? Wouldn’t she retreat into her beloved forest, away from any pitying eyes or ghosts dogging her steps?

I can see why she might be afraid to venture into those darkened woods so soon. And I can see how that might serve as another factor forcing her to seek solace in the bottle, but that wasn’t really dealt with here. I acknowledge that all of those things might still be in the offing, but for a character like Teresa turning to the bottle would be a last refuge . . . not a first. I understand if you didn't want to mine ground already well-tended by Julian’s time in Bravil. But ‘I was near death this afternoon; and borderline catatonic by nightfall. . . Damn I need a bottle!’ just doesn’t seem to fit.

[SubRosa]

haute ecole rider: We will find out just where Cassius was in this next episode.


Acadian: Nothing ever good ever happens at that cantina indeed! Teresa did indeed need that for, she must have drank it by accident.


Grits: I don't think the Mythic Dawn does see the world in such a grim light. Mankar Camoran claims that Mundus is Lorkhan's Daedric Realm, and that the Nine Divines are usurpers who overthrew him and took over for themselves. So I think that would mean refusing to acknowledge the Aedra's sacrifice in creating the world.

It is obviously the Aedric view, as they are the ones who fled in such a hurry as to rip holes in the fabric of reality. I expect it is more of an elven view than any other. The elves are said to hate Lorkhan for robbing them of their divinity. So on some level they apparently can remember or feel their connection to the Aedra who created the world (whom they and everyone else are really just little pieces broken off of). Humans appear to have no recollection of once being Aedra at all, and so easily accept Lorkhan.


ghastley: So that's where that ings went to! I think Teresa spilled it out with half of her shein bottle when she fell down the river embankment.


Destri Melarg: Teresa is usually not one to overindulge in wine, but this was indeed a special case for her. As you noted, she does not have her usual outlet for relieving stress (the forest). I would have liked to have put that in directly somewhere, but there just was not a place where it would naturally come out in the scene. It will be noted by another character in the next chapter however.

For most of this chapter, and the next, I have wanted to avoid showing too much of Teresa's internal thoughts. Instead I am hoping to convey them more with her actions, or inactions. My hope is that the combination of that and people's prior knowledge of Teresa will fill in all the blanks.


Previously on Teresa of the Faint Smile: In our last episode Teresa got drunk and thrown out of the Star Wars Cantina Lonely Suitor Lodge. Finding herself by the river in the center of town, she met a helpful guardsman named Cassius Longinus. From Cassius she learned a bit more about Marius, including that his death was a form of redemption. Next, in the final episode of this chapter, we find Teresa reliving a moment from her past.


Chapter 37.6 – Redemption

"I want to be a thief!" Teresa exclaimed, "just like the Grey Fox!"

Simplicia's face blossomed into an expression of horror before the young elf's eyes. With one hand, the old woman reached out and grabbed hold of her arm. Old she may have been, but there was still strength in the Imperial's fingers, and they dug painfully into the wood elf's skin.

"Don't you talk like that!" the beggar hissed. "It's that girl you met - Methredhel - she's the one filling you with crazy ideas like this isn't it?"

"I like Methredhel!" Teresa cried, "and I don't want to be a beggar! We can have everything we want, and live just like everyone else, if we just take it."

"And you'll end up in a prison cell," Simplicia declared, "or worse! You get those ideas out of your head right now little girl! Do you hear me! There are no rich thieves. Only dead ones!"

"But what about the ones that pay us to watch places?" Teresa said. "They have money."

"For how long?" Simplicia asked. "A few years? They think they're so smart, but they all end up the same."

"What about the Grey Fox?"

"The Grey Fox is a fairy tale," Simplicia sighed. "He's nothing but wishful thinking. Do you see some prince of thieves stealing from the rich folk and giving it to us poor ones? Imp dreck, that's what that is. You keep your head down Teresa, and stay out of trouble. Else trouble will find you, that is for sure!"

"But Simplicia I-"

A dark look from the old woman caused the words to evaporate in the young wood elf's throat. She felt much smaller than her four and a half feet as the Imperial stood up. Towering over her like the insulas to either side, Simplicia pulled Teresa to her feet and dragged her from the alley.

Without saying a word, the aging woman pulled her across Market Way to the arcade of shops that included Jensine's Good As New Merchandise and The Feed Bag. Cutting through an alley off the line of shops, they emerged upon Commerce Street. From there the old woman cut a path through the crowds to the Market Gate.

After making their way through the brooding stone gatehouse, they stepped back into the light of the sun outside the city walls. To the right the road wound away out of sight, curling around the hill upon which the Imperial City sat. Before them stood a bridge linking the city to another, smaller hill. There stood a fortress of dark stone, and it was to this that Simplicia dragged the young elf.

Teresa saw a line of gibbets standing beside the massive bronze gates of the prison. Hanging from them were half-a-dozen corpses in various stages of decomposition. Some were so rotten that she could not even tell what race they had been in life. As Teresa stared, a crow cawed out loudly, causing her jump. Turning, the wood elf found the bridge behind her lined with the dark birds, all of them seeming to look at her.

Simplicia shooed her hand at the crows, and they leapt to the sky with a chorus of guttural cries. She turned Teresa's head back to the corpses, and one final horror unveiled itself before the young elf's eyes. Rather than hanging from a noose, one figure was splayed out upon a cross. His hands were nailed to the crossbeam, and his feet to the vertical post. Naked, his legs were covered in urine and feces, and his skin buzzed with flies. As Teresa stared in shock, his head turned to her, and one eye opened to meet her own. His lips moved, but no sound came forth.

Teresa screamed, and buried her head in Simplicia's stomach. She felt the old woman's arms fall around her and hold her tight. In her ears came the sound of the old woman's voice. "Keep your head down and stay out of trouble cherry blossom, and this will never happen to you."

* * *

"Mother Mara, endowed with great compassion, endowed with foreknowledge, endowed with divine eye, endowed with love, affording protection to sentient beings, please come forth through the power of your great compassion. Oh Compassionate One, you who possess the wisdom of understanding, the love of compassion, the power of doing divine deeds, and of protecting in incomprehensible measure. Marius has passed from this world to the next. The light of this world has faded from his eyes. He has gone into the vast silence between death and birth. Be to him as his mother, and lead him to new life once more."

Teresa stared down as Olava's words faded into the wind. Then the pallbearers lowered Marius' body into his grave. He was swathed in white cloth from head to foot, but somehow the wood elf could still see his face looking back at her nonetheless. His empty eyes stared at her, just as they had the day before on the road.

Did you find your redemption Marius? Teresa wondered. Or did you find… nothingness? Was there a difference?

Teresa pulled her face away as the groundskeepers began shoveling dirt over the guardsman's corpse. The few people who had come for his funeral broke apart and began going their separate ways. Teresa was surprised at how few there were. Just two guardsmen - Gaius Prentus and another Teresa did not recognize - had attended. Then there was of course Teresa herself, Tadrose, Aia, and a Breton from the stables outside of the city. Teresa thought it might have been the same one she had seen trying to fight off one of the trolls the day before, until his pitchfork had been snapped in two. He may have been the same who had leaned over her just before she had fallen unconscious as well, but she could not remember for certain.

She had expected there to be at least more guardsmen. As one of the few honest ones, she had not imagined Marius to be popular. But she had at least thought there would have been a larger show of solidarity for one of their own. Could it be because of her? Teresa knew that she had made many enemies among the Bravil City Guard after her outburst in their headquarters the week before. Had they purposely stayed away because they knew Marius was her friend?

Teresa felt the strong hand of Tadrose on her back, leading her toward the Benevolence of Mara. Then the name on one of the headstones leapt out at Teresa, and she stopped. Taking a step closer, she went down on one knee in front of the stone marker to get a better look. It was old, and its stone face was chipped and weathered by the elements. But someone had placed fresh sunflowers upon the grave, and arranged them so that the morning sun lit up their orange-red petals with a flourish of color. A chill ran down her spine as Teresa saw it was indeed the name she thought, and she shivered in spite of herself.

It was the headstone of Cassius Longinus.

"What is it Teresa?" Aia's thin voice came from behind her. "Find something have you?"

"This man, I know him." Teresa rose and turned to her two companions. "I spoke with him last night."

"Teresa, you had a lot to drink last night," Tadrose said. "You know you shouldn't have, after losing so much blood."

"Aye," the old Imperial agreed. "Long in his resting place is..." Aia's voice trailed off as she stared down at the headstone. A strange look came over her face, which Teresa could not read. Then the beggar looked away, and without a word she hastily made her way to the entrance of the cemetery.

"What was that all about?" Tadrose blinked as she stared at the beggar's receding back. "All she did was look down at the headstone."

Teresa watched Aia exit the graveyard, and vanish into the traffic on Chapel Way. Then she saw a flash of auburn hair out of the corner of her eye, and the forester sprinted to catch up with Olava as she ascended the back steps of the Benevolence of Mara. Unlike her usual simple homespun attire, today the living saint of Bravil wore white robes of silk, belted around her waist with cloth of gold.

"Olava!" Teresa cried. The Nord turned her ruddy features to face Teresa, and she saw that the usual cheer was vacant from the priestess' eyes.

"Teresa." The forester could see that the smile which crested the living saint's face was forced, as its joy did not reach her eyes. "I hope you are well this day."

Teresa nodded. She did not have to tell Olava that she was not, no more than the living saint truly needed to ask. Yet the wood elf still understood the polite compassion that lay within the formality. At that moment Teresa realized the full enormity of Olava's position as not only a priestess, but also a living embodiment of the goddess. Her life was not one of simply assisting in the births of horses and presiding over harvest celebrations, or even of healing those in need. Rather she was the compassionate mother of the entire city, every moment of every day. How could she give so much of her heart, and still have any left for herself?

"I hope you are not taking Marius' death on your shoulders Teresa," Olava said. "He is with the goddess now, and one day she will lead him back to this world."

"I… I know," Teresa said, feeling a knot form in her throat. With an effort of will, she forced herself to continue. "There is a man buried near him. A guardsman. I was wondering if you knew him?"

"All of the city guard are buried in that one area." Olava said. "Who was it?"

"Cassius Longinus," Teresa said. "He was a Colovian. Tall, with blond hair."

"Well I know of him, if that is what you mean," Olava said. "Everyone in Bravil does. Or did at one time. He died thirty years ago."

"Teresa says that she saw him last night," Tadrose said quietly, so that her voice would not carry beyond the trio. "But she had been drinking."

"Teresa! You should know better than that!" Olava cried. To emphasize her words, she stabbed a finger into the wood elf's chest. "If you were not so big I would take you over my knee! You are in no condition for drinking. You need rest, and juice, not spirits!"

Teresa felt her face turn red. She felt as if she was ten years old again, and Simplicia had caught her helping Methredhel pick pockets.

"I did see him," the forester insisted. "I talked to him. He told me about Marius, and he helped me walk back to the guild hall."

"Where did you see him?" Olava asked, her brows now furrowing in thought.

"Over there." Teresa turned and pointed past the looming edifice of the Mages Guild. "It was on the South Isle, on the riverbank. You can't see it from here, but there's a line of houses near the water, just off the docks. There was an empty spot between them where I was sitting."

"That's where it happened alright," Olava murmured. "At least from what I have been told."

"Where what happened?" Tadrose asked.

"Where he died," Olava said, "along with Aia's family."

"Aia's what?" Teresa felt as if her eyes were ready to pop from their sockets.

"You didn't know?" Olava said. "I thought you did, with the way you spend so much time with her. But then she has never been able to talk about it…"

"What happened to them?" Tadrose asked.

"There was a fire late one night. No one knows what started it. Perhaps a candle was knocked over, or a curtain blew against a lamp, just an accident I am sure." Olava shrugged her shoulders. "Aia and her family were asleep inside. She was married then, and had three children, and a dog too. Cassius Longinus was the first guardsman on the scene, but by the time he got there, the entire building was up in flames. They say he stormed inside anyway and carried Aia out a few moments later. She was nearly unconscious from the smoke, and her family could not have been any better. Cassius went back inside, in spite of the neighbors trying to stop him. The entire place collapsed a moment later. No one survived."

"So that is why she won't go into buildings," Tadrose said quietly.

The next thing Teresa knew, the Dunmer's hand was clasped in her own. The wood elf took comfort from that, and held on tightly to the armorer. Poor Aia! How could she have gone on after that? Teresa wondered. How could anyone?

"Aye," Olava said. "She's not set foot inside a building since then. Not even the benevolence. I have to come out here to give her blessings. She puts flowers on Cassius' grave. Sometimes wild ones she gathers up from outside the North Gate, sometimes flowers she steals from other graves. We all pretend we don't notice that!"

"What about the house?" Teresa asked. "Did anyone ever rebuild there?"

"No," Olava shook her head. "No one will. People say that spot is haunted. They say on some nights you can still hear the flames, and the cracking of the timbers as they gave way. Sometimes they even say you can see them out of the corner of your eyes: Aia's family, and Cassius. But then when you look again, there is nothing there. Just ghost stories really."

"Maybe not all of them are stories it seems." Tadrose said, looking at Teresa.

The wood elf blinked. "You believe me?"

"If you say you spoke to him, then you spoke to him," Tadrose insisted. "What did he tell you?"

"He told me about Marius; why he came here, and what he died for." Teresa fought the lump that threatened to steal her voice. "He told me to dig in my heels, and do what I knew was right."


Note - Olava's prayer is a shortened version of a Buddhist funeral prayer.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Aug 22 2011, 04:44 PM

[haute ecole rider]

Well, to the best of my knowledge, Julian never quite fell down the river embankment when she was deep in her cups (and skooma pipes). So no wonder she never met Cassius. This latest installment just adds further depth to Teresa's ability to sense the history of a place (I'm recalling how she can see the Arimer ruins at the height of their glory).

Loved how the story started with a memory of her childhood, and how it scared her off a life of thievery. That crucifixion is something I've missed from the game. If it's supposed to be medieval, I can understand, but the Empire has so many correlations with the old Roman Empire that I rather would see an occasional cross with a rotting corpse nailed to it during my wilderness adventures, or even outside the Arena.

I doubt the Mythic Dawn has a grim view of Tamriel. Remember that Camoran's Paradise is supposed to be a representation of what Tamriel would become under the rule of Dagon - beautiful on the surface, but wild and destructive underneath. If you speak to any of the ascended Immortals in Paradise, you'll hear bitterness and betrayal from them - for they expected something similar to our concept of heaven, and got something closer to Bosch's vision of hell. Just sayin'

[Grits]

At that moment Teresa realized the full enormity of Olava's position as not only a priestess, but also a living embodiment of the goddess. Her life was not one of simply assisting in the births of horses and presiding over harvest celebrations, or even of healing those in need. Rather she was the compassionate mother of the entire city, every moment of every day. How could she give so much of her heart, and still have any left for herself?

This struck a chord with me. It made me think of Simplicia and her daughter Teresa. I doubt that Simplicia tried to hold back part of her heart for herself.

It was wonderful to hear the background of Aia’s mystery, as well as the story of Cassius.

[Destri Melarg]

"On our next episode of Scared Straight: Imperial City Edition we fight mudcrabs, rats, and goblins as Simplicia leads us into the deep dark catacombs of the dungeons!"

I love what you did here! Redemption carries many layers. In addition to Teresa we have Marius, whose actions saving Teresa gave him a chance to atone for past failure. And Cassius, who is compelled to ‘save’ Teresa (who in turn is so close to Aia) on consecrated ground where he ‘failed’ to save Aia’s family so long ago. His words may very well have spared Teresa from sharing Aia’s fate. Now we can see how Teresa’s new understanding might lead her to bringing Aia the peace she so richly deserves. I am wondering if, having heard the briefest allusion to Tadrose's circumstance, we will see more coming from that strand? Beautiful.

[SubRosa]

Just out of curiosity, did anyone guess that Cassius was a ghost in episode 37.5? I tried to leave some hints, both in his knowledge of Marius (which he shouldn't have, after he said Marius never talked about his past) and especially when Teresa saw the stars in his eyes. I also did not want them to be too overt, so I tried to make it look like it might be Teresa's only drunken imaginings as well.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Aug 22 2011, 11:13 PM

[Grits]

I had no idea!! Total surprise.

ETA: Your clues gave me an Aha! feeling, rather than a WTF moment. It was perfect.

This post has been edited by Grits: Aug 22 2011, 11:32 PM

[Destri Melarg]

I agree with Grits. Your clues were clear enough, but they only became apparent in hindsight.

[haute ecole rider]

Me three. It's the best kind of surprise, though.

[ghastley]

Except for Looking back, she saw that Cassius was just an ordinary Colovian. I'd started to wonder, but that killed off my theory.

But I was also thinking this was a few days later, not so soon after the event, after Teresa had had more time brooding (and doing nothing much else to write about), so I'm easily confused.

This post has been edited by ghastley: Aug 23 2011, 12:57 AM

[Acadian]

By Mara, there is so much goodness stuffed into this episode!

The flashback to Simplicia was great and set the scene for the role that Aia would play in this episode. The hangings and crucifixion were powerful stimulants for Teresa to avoid a life of crime. And a very very early sighting of her raven spirit!

Marius’ funeral was sad. Who was there and who was not spoke volumes. The presence of Antoine the stable hand brought me a faint smile.

Cassius the ghost. Although I did note the stars in his eyes, I attributed it to Teresa’s drinking. What a magically wonderful twist!

’She did not have to tell Olava that she was not, no more than the living saint truly needed to ask. Yet the wood elf still understood the polite compassion that lay within the formality.’
This adds a beautiful richness to the simple exchange between Teresa and Olava.

You and I have discussed the backgrounds of both Aia and Cosmus (the two Bravilian beggars) and it was such a delight to finally see Aia's story on display!

I totally enjoyed both Olava’s and Teresa’s thoughts and feelings about our Goddess of Love.

I wanted to cheer when Tadrose basically said, “If Teresa said it, then it is true.”

Loved it all!

[Olen]

A fine couple of episodes to come back to. Sorry for the missed reply, RL ate me.

Hitting the bottle made sense, it shows that she's still human (bosmer? you know what I mean) in spite of her fame and power and that she has human reactions. It also ended about as would be expected given her weight, drinking habits and recent injury.

Except she got the talking to she needed, and given the source I doubt she'll ignore it. It was a good way to tie in Aia's background, as well as bringing a little more of the mystical into the story. When he said 'everyone in Bravil knows you' he certainly meant it!

The flashback at the start of 37.6 was good. I caught Simplicia's parenting to a tee, very strong lesson and well meant if possibly poorly thought through. I think more shadow facing might happen soon, and this carries on the theme of missing parents and some of Simplicia's less useful lessons needing unlearnt.

It's nice to see Olava maintaining her presance in the story, she's a good character. She seems to have considerable depth we haven't seen yet and I suspect she'll appear more whether it's planned or not. There was a lot in that section, makes me want to see what happens in the next.

SGM.

[Captain Hammer]

By the Golden Gaze of Akatosh, has it really been that long?

Guess so. Maybe I need to start praying for some Dragon's blessing before all time gets away from me.

I continue to see why Olava really is called the Living Saint of Bravil. Personally, I never interacted with her, since I spent so little time in that city, so it's nice to see some of the characters I don't spend much time with getting into the lime-light.

Speaking of Olava, I do have one large question: Why is Marius' funeral prayer offered to Mara?

I ask because I generally default to standard ElderScrolls lore unless otherwise cited in a particular work, and I haven't seen you fundamentally alter the nature of Arkay as the Patron Divine of the Dead, Funeral Rites, and Burial. Further, Teresa's experience in the Temple of Zenithar (Best Bank in Cyrodiil!) indicates that at least one order in the pantheon keeps operations going across the province, so why not another, particularly one with a steady demand for service. You've made the scale of the TF much bigger and more populous than the game's mechanics could support, so why not a larger Temple staff with a few priests for the other Divines' functions, or why not allow Olava to perform the rite in Arkay's Name?

I don't mean to contradict anything you happen to be making, but I'm a metaphysicist when I can afford the luxury, and the TF doubles as a useful commentary on the topic. Thus, when I read the passage, the conundrum rakes my brain until I can resolve it. I figure one of my above premises doesn't apply as I believe it should in this case, and I'd like to know which one (or which ones) need adjustment for this particular setting.

[SubRosa]

haute ecole rider: The occasional crucifixion by the gates, or outside the prison, would be a good touch. Especially of captured Mythic Dawn members after the main quest ends.


Grits: Olava has always been a challenging character to write, specifically because of her being a living saint. Exemplifying a deity in your day to day life is such a tall order to do, even just writing about it!


Destri Melarg: Scared Straight indeed! I was thinking of exactly that when I wrote the flashback. Don't forget those vampires under the city too!


ghastley: Have no worries, Teresa will still have plenty of more time to spend brooding in the following chapters.


Acadian: I thought you might recognize Antoine! He was the man with pitchfork during the battle with the troll, and the one who rolled Teresa over at the very end. But she has still never learned his name.

Thank you so much for collaborating with me on Aia's background. It was nice to finally be able to reveal what we had worked to create so long ago. I have plans to feature Cosmus in a few chapters as well.


Olen: I hate when RL does that. It has almost devoured me too in the last few weeks. Work has been a nightmare, and I have not been able to keep up with everything. I am glad someone picked up on the fact that while Simplicia's parenting was with the best of intentions, it did indeed fall short in many areas. Teresa has a lot of issues she has to overcome thanks to what Simplicia taught her. In fact, that is where her Shadow is rooted, although probably not in a way most will expect.


Captain Hammer: I know Akray is the funeral/death god in the official lore. I was originally going to write the funeral that way. But it just felt... alien. When I decided to write it as I did, with it being a prayer to Mara by Olava, it all felt natural. So I went with it.

There are a couple of reasons why. One is that Arkay never really felt right to me. There is an in-game book that says he was a mortal who Mara somehow elevated to godhood. But the creation tales all say there were eight divines, which is in opposition to that. The bigger reason is the way I have been emphasizing the element of reincarnation in the TF. IMHO, a single deity being the source of new life, and the receiver of old lives, fits the setting I have created much better. In this coming chapter Daenlin will give us the Valenwood view on it all, which is a lot more general, but reinforces the same pattern.

I suppose this means I demoted Arkay. But maybe I will find him a job somewhere else. To be honest, many of the ES gods feel artificial and forced to me. Stendarr never made sense to me. It was only when I tied Zenithar to banking that he finally began to work. Kynareth feels wrong to me too. As both goddess of the wild animals and of weather, she is sharing powers of both a sky deity and an earth deity, which shouldn't be happening. Also, I am more accustomed to seeing a male deity in both areas, such as Cernunnos as the Lord of the Wild Beasts, and any number of gods like Zeus or Thor as the sky god. Plus they also seem to be missing some of the generic archetypes, most notably a god of magic like Hermes, Hekate, or Odin. You would think that in such a magic-centric setting, they would have a magician's deity. Perhaps I will give Akray that job instead?


Previously on Teresa of the Faint Smile: In our last episode Teresa attended the funeral of Marius Helvius. Afterward she discovered that Cassius Longinus in fact died 30 years previously, after rescuing Aia from a burning building. The same fire killed him moments later, along with the rest of Aia's family. She has never set foot in a building since. Next, we find Teresa at the Fighters Guild nearly a week since she was attacked.


Chapter 38.1 – Ravenfeeder

25th - 26th Frostfall, 3E433

"So did you ever find out which one of the guards shot you?"

Teresa blinked, and looked up from her book. Staring across the sitting room, she saw Vincent, Chance, Ancondil, and Storm Tail sitting at one of the small, round tables that dotted the room. Each had a row of colored tiles stacked up before them. Teresa watched the quartet, wondering which of them had spoken. Then Chance tossed one of his tiles into a pile at the center of the table.

"Two of bamboos," he said.

"Hey, I've got a meld with that!" Vincent declared, scooping up the piece and laying it down with two other tiles of his own.

"No, I never did," Teresa finally said. Then she turned her face back down to the pages of Magic From The Sky.

"If someone shot me, I'd want to know." Now that she was paying attention, Teresa was sure it was Vincent who had spoken.

"I am certain it was an accident," Ancondil said. "The shot hit her just a moment after the last troll fell. It must have been fired while the beast was still standing."

"You'd think an archer would know better than to walk into a field of fire then," Vincent murmured. His voice was low, but not quiet enough for Teresa's elfin ears to miss.

Then Ancondil picked up a tile discarded by Storm-Tail. "Mahjong!" He declared, turning all of his tiles face up.

"Damn, he did it again," Vincent grumbled. "This game doesn't make any sense to me. Let's play whist instead."

"Mahjong is part of our guild's tradition," Storm-Tail finally spoke. "It has been so since the guild was created during the Potentate, when it was made up of the Tsaesci."

"Someone's been reading his History of the Fighters Guild again." Vincent rolled his eyes.

"Well, I think Ancondil must be at least half Tsaesci himself!" Chance declared with a laugh. "Otherwise how could he be so good at this crazy Akaviri game?"

"I assure you gentlemen, that I have no vampiric tendencies. Nor serpentine ones." Ancondil smiled. "The fact is I used to play this with Trayvon and my parents when I was a child."

"Hey, have you all seen the news?"

Now all five of the mercenaries looked up as Tavian burst in from the foyer. The brown-haired porter held a copy of the Black Horse Courier in one hand, which he furiously waved in the air.

Screenshot

"Well we can't see it with you waving it around like that now can we?" Chance said dryly.

"Is it Summerset?" Ancondil asked gravely. "Has something transpired?"

"No, this is even bigger!" the Imperial declared with wide eyes. "It's the Arena grand champion. He was killed in a match! There's a new champion!"

"Agronak was killed?" Vincent's eyes widened.

Chance whistled beside him. "Damn, I thought the Grey Prince was unbeatable. Who killed him, Akatosh?"

"No, it was Sulesa," Tavian set the broadsheet down upon the table, atop the scattered mahjong tiles. "She's the new grand champion now."

"Sulesa?" Storm-Tail responded. "This one did not think that one was such a skilled fighter. Was that one not defeated by the champion last year?"

"Hey, never count out a Redguard," Chance winked. "The Empire made that mistake with Cyrus too…"

"So how did she beat him?" Vincent leaned over the copy of the Black Horse Courier. "Did she come up with some new move?'

"No," Tavian said. "It sounds like he didn't even really fight. He just stood there and she cut him down."

"Suicide then?" Ancondil finally commented, and Teresa could see his eyebrow arch from across the room. "I do not keep appraised with the Arena, was this Agronak that troubled?"

"Who knows?" Chance said as he looked over the broadsheet. "The article doesn't mention why he didn't fight back. It says here that Sulesa has a challenger already though. Morghak gra-Durug."

"Was there not talk of that one and the Grey Prince being more than friends?" Storm Tail rasped.

"Yeah, I heard that too," Vincent said. "I'd like to see that match. I bet there won't be no quarter given there, no matter what the sponsors say."

Teresa rose from her couch and shut her book. She could not understand how they could take such relish in the Arena. Was there not already enough violence and death in the world already, that people had to kill one another for entertainment? She knew that only one in five matches actually ended in death, but even still, that was one in five pointless wastes of life.

If only Marius had one more chance, even just one chance in five.

The forester sighed and tucked her book under one arm. She did not want to hear any more about gladiators. She caught Ancondil's face out of the corner of her eye. The emerald giant seemed no more enthusiastic about the talk than her. The next thing Teresa knew, he was walking from the room with her.

"I was thinking I might take Glacier out for some exercise around the parade grounds," Ancondil said. "Perhaps you would care to join me? You have yet to meet my trusty four-legged companion."

Teresa thought about the parade grounds. The empty space had hosted the tournament. It also sat right beside the North Bridge, across the Green Road from Bay Roan Stables. Exactly where Marius had almost always stood on watch.

"Not this time," she said, trying to fight the lump forming in her throat.

"Very well then." Teresa could see the disappointment in the Orisimer's eyes as he turned to the front door of the guild hall. She knew that he was just trying to cheer her up. But what if she did not want to be cheered?

"Teresa!" The voice of Tadrose caused her Bosmer ears to perk up. "I am glad I caught you. Could you come down to the forge for a few minutes?"

Teresa looked down the corridor that led deeper into the guild hall. There stood Tadrose. The dark elf was dressed in the same dark leather breeches, simple flax tunic with rolled-up sleeves, and heavy apron that she always wore when working in the armory. Yet for a change her face and hands were not grimy. She must be about to start working, Teresa thought. Or doing something without the furnace, like stitching leather.

Screenshot

"What for?" Teresa wondered aloud.

"I need a hand with something. A woman's hand. Come, you will see." The armorer waved for Teresa to follow her, and stepped to the door that led to the forge below. Teresa shrugged her shoulders and followed. Part of her remembered that at one time, she would have been ecstatic to be invited to follow Tadrose anywhere. Now she found that she could not feel a thing. Just as in every other moment of every day since Marius had died.

"Ah Teresa, it is so good to see you up and walking around again."

The soft male voice belonged to Henantier, whom Teresa found waiting in the armory below. The slender Altmer was clad in his customary blue Mages Guild robe, and a smile was etched upon his lean features. Beside him was what must have been an arming rack, or a seamstress' dummy. Teresa could not tell which, because it was covered by a sheet.

"Do you remember how you did a… favor for me when you first came to Bravil?" The high elf waited for Teresa to nod before continuing. "Well, I said that I wanted to do something in return. Here it is!"

The Altmer mage yanked the sheet away with a flourish, revealing a full suit of miran-talurn armor upon the stand beside him. The light green miran plates gleamed under the glowstones, like leaves that had been recently watered. The vines and leaves embroidered across them seemed so lifelike, that the wood elf half expected them to sway in an imaginary breeze. The darker shade of the talurn under-suit contrasted with the brighter miran pieces above, reminding Teresa of the trunk of a mighty tree.

Teresa looked from the Altmer magician to Tadrose. "This is the same armor you were working on a few weeks ago, before I went to Bawn?"

"It is," Tadrose nodded. "You nearly stopped my heart when you walked down here that day! I thought our surprise was ruined. At least now we know it will fit you perfectly though."

"Indeed," Henantier said. "Why don't you try it on now. I would love to see you in it."

"Henantier, I can't," Teresa found herself taking a step back from the other elves. "This is too much."

"Of course you can," Henantier insisted. "You did more than save my life that day, you helped me find the resolve I had always thought I lacked. Thanks to you, I shall be attending the battlemage program at the University when the Winter Term begins next Morning Star "

"But Henantier, this is worth…"

"A pittance, I assure you." Henantier waved Teresa's protest away with a slender hand. "I have more money than I know what to do with, thanks to my enchanting. It was a true joy to create something for a friend for a change. I only wish that the leaves had come from Valenwood a little sooner. Then perhaps things would have gone a little better with that…"

The high elf's words trailed away as Tadrose shot him a look. Teresa turned her head away. She knew what he meant. Things might have gone better against the trolls. If her arm had not been crippled, could she have killed her troll quicker? Would she have been able to go to the aid of Marius sooner? Could she have saved his life?

Then a soft hand touched her shoulder. The same shoulder that the troll had nearly ripped out with its teeth. Teresa could still remember it, shaking her like a dog with a ragdoll. The words of Marz rang though her mind: "If you had not been wearing your armor, your arm and shoulder would have been torn off."

Teresa blinked away the memory, and saw Tadrose standing before her. The armorer was holding the dark talurn vest in her hands, and offered it to Teresa. The Bosmer felt magicka brimming within the soft, almost rubbery material, and looked up at Henantier.

"You enchanted it?"

"Of course! I do have a reputation for having some small skill in that area after all." the high elf winked. "I should step outside for a moment while you change though. Then I can tell you all about it."

The next thing Teresa knew, Tadrose was helping her take off her clothing. She recalled the last time the same thing had happened as if it was a dream. It seemed so long ago. She could remember her excitement at feeling the dark elf's hands running over her body. It had been so hard to remain in control of herself then, and refrain from throwing her arms around the Dunmer.

Now she found that she did not feel a thing. It almost felt as if she was different person from that young wood elf who had stood in this same room just two weeks before. She did not say a word as the last of her clothing fell to the floor, nor as the armorer helped her slide into the dark talurn. First came the greaves, then the tunic, with the long sleeves of its arms already laced to it. Then finally came the lighter plates of hard miran all around. She found that the armor did indeed fit her perfectly, even in the arms and shoulders this time.

She took a step away from Tadrose and stared down at herself. The armor felt light. Lighter than her leather. It felt more flexible as well. The dark talurn fit her like a glove, and the hard plates of miran bent with her as she twisted and turned her body. Steel plate could not do that! Yet when she rapped against one of the shoulder pieces, it rang out with a sharp clack under her knuckles. It was as solid as if she had struck the trunk of a tree.

Screenshot

"May I come back down?" Henantier's voice rang from the top of the stairs.

"Yes," Tadrose said. "Come see our forester."

"My stars!" Henantier practically gasped when he looked at Teresa once more. "You do look fantastic. Step over here, I want to show you something."

Teresa stared at the high elf. That kind of invitation from a man instantly put her on her guard. But she knew that Henantier was no prankster or deviant. Especially not with Tadrose standing right there! So as he had asked, she walked across the room to where he stood at bottom of the steps.

"Did you hear that?" Henantier asked.

"Hear what?" Teresa wondered aloud.

"Exactly!" the high elf grinned. "The boots and the other pieces are enchanted so they will not make a sound. Your leather would have creaked as you moved, and your old boots would have scuffed along the floor."

Teresa stared down her leaf-clad feet. Henantier was right. She had not made a sound, and she had not even been trying to be stealthy!

"That is amazing," Teresa breathed.

"Only the beginning," Henantier smiled. Teresa could tell that the high elf was enjoying this. His happiness was infectious, enough so that she almost felt the urge to smile, however faintly. But the memory of Marius Helvius' dead face quashed that in an instant.

"The gauntlets have been enchanted to fortify your strength," the high elf explained. "That will allow you to use a stronger bow. The greaves are enchanted with a fire shield, the cuirass with a shock shield, and the hood with a frost shield. While you will not be immune from these elements, it will take the bite out of magical attacks. It will also make those hot summer days and cold winter nights much more bearable."

"Aldariel." Teresa felt the enchantments that folded around her body, just as the miran and talurn leaves did. "What does that mean?"

"Daughter of the Trees." One of Henantier's eyebrows lifted in interest. "How did you know the name I gave the armor?"

"I… felt it." Teresa shrugged. "It was like it told me somehow, but not in words."

"Not many people can sense the names of enchanted weapons or armor." Tadrose said. "Unless of course it is plainly written upon them. Usually only trained magicians - or armorers with some magical skill - can sense it within the enchantment."

"Obviously there is more to our Teresa than meets the eye," Henantier said.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Aug 26 2011, 12:22 AM