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

[haute ecole rider]

minque: Thank you minque. I am afraid what Foxy might say about your woodie comment though...


I never comment about things I own.

Ah, but you just did!

[Destri Melarg]

Looking at the glowing crystals in the display case, the wood elf had to fight the urge to slap her palm against forehead. She should have sold her loot here! the forester realized, the mages would have probably given her a better price for the magic crystals than Borba!

I laughed when I read this, remembering the appalling number of times that I have made the same mistake as Teresa (and not just in Cheydinhal) and regretting it moments later.

I like the way that you introduce us to Aldos Othran before circumstance turns him into the town drunk. I also like the way that you delineate the characters of Orintur and Eilonwy through their disagreement. We even get some insight into the character of Falcar. And I never figured Ancondil as the son of Orintur and Eilonwy (Although having just written that, didn’t you mention something about that in the original?). I can only assume that he is adopted, unless something has changed.

[Olen]

I liked the development of Chedynhal. I agree with the above that seeing Aldos before his brief cameo with the guard adds a great deal more depth to that quest and makes more of him than the throwaway cardboard character in game.

I liked the mage's guild too, seeing a bit more character in them was good. It can't be long before they start complaining about the well water...

It would have been much simpler if the other woman had just told her that, the forester thought as she left the hall. But the guild would not have made any money that way, would it?

True in Tamriel and RL then.

This post has been edited by Olen: May 25 2010, 01:10 PM

[SubRosa]

haute ecole rider: One of the fun things about reediting and adding completely new chapters is adding foreshadowing about many of the characters who we will meet later.

I did change the orcs in my game. I am using the Cute Orc Head Replacer mod, that changes the meshes used for the orc heads, de-pigging them. In addition to that, I have created my own mod to change the features of most of the NPCs to make them easier on the eyes, as well as add racial characteristics, such as giving Nords only blond or red hair, etc...

For example, here is my Sir Mazoga


D.Foxy: I am trying not to comment about your woodie...


Destri Melarg: I am hoping that if I do use that quest, the little introduction of Aldos here will give lend some poignancy to his fate (assuming I do not change that). Likewise, with Eilonwy and Orintur, I wanted to give them a teeny bit of depth, especially Eilonwy, who only goes on and on about how wonderful her husband is in the game. The remark about Falcar was not only meant to show a bit about him personally, but also the entire Mages Guild as well. They are there to make money after all.

Ancondil did say he was adopted by high elves in the old Chapter 13 on the Beth forums (when Ancondil has dinner with Teresa). Hence his finely cultured manners, and use of the word "rapscallion!"


Olen: I laughed at your remark about the well water! Ewwww! I am glad you noted Teresa's thoughts on buying the book. It was a little way that I wanted to reinforce that the Mages Guild is first and foremost a business.


* * *

Chapter 9c – On The Road

Her most important chores finished, Teresa took the time to wander through the city for a while. She discovered a small island within the river that cut through the city. Crossing over to it via another of the covered wooden bridges, she found that it was filled with blooming flowers and small cherry trees with twisting boughs. From the banks of the island she could see that the river vanished through a long row of grates in the city wall, and the wood elf imagined it must continue on outside of the city.

After taking some time to admire the flowers and run her fingers across the grey bark of the trees, the wood elf crossed to the other side of the river. There she found more residences and a few shops. It was the chapel that dominated all however, its great steeple rising high into the sky, as if it were trying to scrape against the clouds.

The forester walked past the temple without a second glance and continued on her way through the city. She was struck by the memory of the card reading that Morcant had done for her, and the image of the Five of Pentacles, with the people on it struggling on their way with the stained glass windows of a chapel behind them. The wood elf lifted her eyes up - beyond the grey walls of the city - to the forested slopes of the mountains rising to the north and east. That was her temple, she thought with satisfaction, her holy place.

A crow called out from atop the gatehouse ensconced in the eastern wall of the city. The wood elf could not restrain a faint smile, and found herself waving at the sleek, black bird. The people around her stared in bewilderment, but Teresa did not care. She would never be spiritually destitute again.

In time the wood elf made her way back to the western gate of the city, where the Newlands Lodge waited. Within Teresa found that the publican was a Dunmer named Dervera Romalen. Her hair was a bright auburn and tied up behind her head by a handful of sticks. It was too brilliant to have been natural, Teresa noted, just like her own crimson mane. Yet it was very striking nonetheless, and the wood elf was reminded of Nerussa from the Wawnet Inn as she took in the pleasant view of the other woman's features. Yet unlike the Altmer proprietor, Dervera wore only simple clothing. A cream-colored chemise of worn linen under a dark brown bodice, and a lighter brown skirt trailing to her feet.

Screenshot

Teresa wondered if all innkeepers in Cyrodiil were so attractive as she purchased a room for the night, along with a hot bath. She would have liked Dervera to join her in the latter as she washed away the dust and grime of her journey. How do you ask a woman to do that? she found herself wondering as she soaked in the tiny metal tub behind the common room of the inn. Men seemed to do it all the time. She would have to watch them, the forester resolved, to see how they did it.

Yet when Teresa returned from her bath, basking in that refreshing feeling of being clean once more, she found that her tongue had tied itself into knots as soon as she set her eyes on the attractive dark elf. Rather than make a fool of herself, the forester proceeded to her sparsely furnished room and spent the rest of the day making potions. It was well after dark when her growling stomach told her it was time to venture forth once more for dinner.

She found the common room of the inn was filled with customers by then. Most of them were either dark elves or orcs, and all were simple working people by their plain attire. They drank, ate, and celebrated as all people did in taverns, but the wood elf could see a hint of worry in all of their eyes, and hear a certain edge to their voices.

Teresa knew what they were thinking. What had happened to Kvatch, could happen here as well. It could happen anywhere. She heard a few people say as much, and others speak of a Legion from Morrowind that marched through town the week before. That would have been at the same time she had been with Morcant, she thought. If she had taken the road instead of the forest, she probably would have walked right into them, as she had the other soldiers outside of Vilverin.

Teresa noted the shoemaker Aldos Othran was there with a woman she took to be his wife, given how she was sitting on his lap. He was singing something about cliffracers - if his out-of-tune howls could be called singing - while she guzzled a mug of ale. The people around them had all turned around in their chairs to watch, and some kept time by clapping their hands or stamping their feet on the floor.

At least they looked happy, Teresa thought as she found a place to sit at the end of bar. The wood elf wondered what a cliffracer was? Then she found herself wondering how it would feel to sit in Dervera's lap when the Dunmer woman came by to take her order for dinner. The forester resisted the urge to say what she was thinking, and instead asked for a glass of shein and something without meat for dinner.

Her meal turned out to be a large, round piece of bread, hollowed out and filled with creamy mushroom and broccoli soup. It was quite tasty, and she resolved to find a way to make it for Simplicia when she got back to the Imperial City. She imagined that she might even add some sedge for extra flavor.

After finishing her meal, Teresa sipped the sour, yet smooth shein and watched Dervera as she moved back and forth behind the bar. She was just working up the nerve to say something to the woman when a man wearing the mail armor of the city guard came in, rounded the bar, and put his arms around the publican.

"Guilbert Jemane!" the Dunmer woman cried out in mock indignation. Yet she could not hide her grin. "How dare you! Someone call the guard!"

"The guard is here to serve ma'am!" the man said in that lilting tone of the Bretons. Lifting her up in his arms, he spun her around in a circle before setting her back down again. Then he leaned in to kiss the woman, which brought a round of hoots and cheers from the assembled patrons.

Cheering was the last thing on Teresa's mind as she watched Dervera wrap her arms around the Breton's neck and melt into him. Instead a feeling more sour than the shein dropped into the pit of her stomach. Were the good ones always taken? she wondered. Not that the dark elf would have wanted anything to do with her anyway, the forester imagined darkly. Leaving her half-empty glass on the bar, Teresa made her way back to her room and returned to creating potions.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Jul 30 2020, 01:39 AM

[D.Foxy]

Teresa made her way back to her room and returned to her mortar and pestle.


OH DEAR.

Teresa is romantically frustrated...and therefore she returns to her room, picks up her pestle, pounds it into her mortar...













Sorry my dear....I couldn't resist that at all! Please don't make me a courtesan - or if you must put me in your story, allow me to make out with a courtesan instead!!!

[haute ecole rider]

Poor Teresa!

It never crossed my mind that Romalen and Jemane (the sober one) had a thing going! How obtuse can I be??

Anyway, I loved this chapter - a wonderfully reflective time.

The wood elf lifted her eyes up - beyond the grey walls of the city - to the forested slopes of the mountains rising to the north and east. That was her temple, she thought with satisfaction, her holy place.

That is exactly how I feel - mountains are holy places!

I had the same thought as our vulpine friend - the mortar and pestle!

[D.Foxy]

Great minds think lewdly alike.

[haute ecole rider]

As always!

[Olen]

I'm sure I had something to say about the part beyond it's good but all this discussion of pestling mortars has made me laugh too much to remember. Good part though, it adds a further dimension to her character.

One nit:

broccoli soup. It was quite tasty

The word tasty cannot be applied to broccoli, it is a common misconception that broccoli is a food stuff, it is in fact toxic waste.

[Verlox]

Good stuff, Subrosa.

[Remko]

Ah, one of my favourite NPC's has made his appearance; Guilbert Jemane (Is he a guard?)

[Destri Melarg]

Back to the mortar and pestle! I don’t think it was intentional, but the ending of that chapter left us with more unrequited innuendo than any chapter on any thread on this board that I can remember. Like Olen said; there were other things that I wanted to comment on, but I can’t get the pestling mortar (or is that the mortaring pestle?) out of my mind!

Only one small nit:

She was struck by the memory of the card reading that Morcant had done for her, and the image of the Five of Pentacles, with the people on it struggling on their way with the stained glass windows of a chapel behind them.

I think I found your missing 'of'.

[Acadian]

Caught up with 8h, 9a, 9b, 9c. What a pleasure you are to read! I LOVE how you linger over Teresa's observations and thoughts rather than relentlessly pursue some adventure or quest objective. Yes, character driven suits me well. Every wood elf should have an etherial spirit that travels with her. I see Teresa's has already saved her little butt. Oh, and see how nice that pit armor looks on Teresa?

Just wonderful SubRosa!

[SubRosa]

D.Foxy: oi!

haute ecole rider: So far as I know Guilbert and Dervera are not lovers in the game. They are in the TF though.


Olen: Broccoli is wonderful! One of my favorites in fact. Especially cream of broccoli soup.


Verlox: Thank you V.


Remko: Guilbert is a guardsman in the TF, not the game though. Actually it is his drunken brother I like best of the two. I love when he hires you "I can besmirch my own good name just fine thank you..."


Destri Melarg: Thank you for wrangling up that wandering of. It is back in the herd where it belongs now.

Given the distraction it was causing, I took out "mortar and pestle" and replaced it with something more generic. I will try to never use those words again.


Acadian: It is true the TF is all about character development, with events being secondary. It is a chick thing, I am sure. I realize that is not to everyone's taste however. I promise that chapter 9 and 10 will be packed with manly killing.


Now, on to the road which this chapter is named for, and some pure world-building stuff.

* * *

Chapter 9d – On The Road

The next morning the sky was filled with grey clouds that matched Teresa's mood as she said goodbye to the Newlands Lodge. After a brief stop at the Mages Guild to sell the potions she had made the night before, she trudged back to the western gate and took her leave of Cheydinhal.

The first drops of rain began to fall as she set her feet to the pavestones of the Blue Road outside. By the time the city walls were out of sight it had picked up to a steady drizzle, and passersby scurried to and fro to get under cover. She ignored them, and the raindrops, as she made her way west down the road. The first of many small farming villages was passing by when it turned to a full downpour, leaving her the road all to herself.

She wondered what it must be like to have someone, as Dervera did? To hold their hand, to feel their arms around you, to kiss their lips… Would she ever know what that was like? the forester wondered as she plodded by fields and pastures along the road. Or would she be forever alone in the wilderness?

So lost in her thoughts, Teresa did not even notice the clumps of lavender and monkshood that occasionally sprang up between the road and cultivated land alongside it. She simply made her way west along the road, taking occasional breaks to stop and rest her feet, and quench her thirst from her water skin.

It rained for days, and Teresa continued along her route feeling as dark and somber as the weather. She had passed through nothing but farmland for most of the first day. There was a village roughly every half-mile along the road, and the fields worked by their denizens filled the spaces between them. By late afternoon the settlements had thinned out to only one a mile, with small patches of wild country tucked between the bands of crops and orchards.

By the end of the second day the villages became even sparser and started showing heavier and heavier defenses. Where she had seen only simple wooden fences surrounding the villages next to Cheydinhal, soon they had turned to durable stockades. After a third day's travel the walls were combined with ditches and dirt embankments, making them miniature fortresses.

The road itself was relatively bare, and the wood elf hardly saw another person on it except for the occasional carriage or wagon, and Imperial legionaries on horses. At least she thought the riders were legion. They did not wear the armor that most soldiers did, but still wore tunics emblazoned with the Imperial dragon and carried arming swords.

She stopped in some of the villages to refill her waterskin from their wells. The inhabitants were nearly all Imperials, and wore a variety of simple clothing from worn flax to threadbare linen. Their skin was tanned a dark bronze, and their bodies wrapped in lean muscle. Most carried a long knife at their hips, and here and there Teresa saw a bow or spear as well.

All gave her hard, appraising stares as she walked through their streets, and again Teresa wondered if it was because of the armor she wore. Did she really look like an outlaw? the forester wondered, or was it just because she was a stranger in general? Still, no one tried to stop her, although here and there people did question her at the wells. The wood elf took it all in stride though. If she were in their shoes, she imagined she might be suspicious as well.

In one settlement she found a small station just inside the main entrance, consisting of a fenced off area with a stable, corral, and what looked like a bunkhouse. A handful of men and women wearing the dragon tunics she had seen on the riders were working within. As she stared, a rider came galloping up from the road outside. As she rode in and came to a halt, another man leaped onto a fresh horse and trotted alongside her. He reached out to take a satchel from the dusty rider, then raced out of the village with it slung across his saddle horn.

They must be some kind of dispatch riders, Teresa imagined as she returned to the road herself and walked on through the rain. She had never imagined that such a system of passing along messages existed. Yet the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. It was nearly a week's journey from Cheydinhal to the shores of Lake Rumare, plus several more days travel to reach the Imperial City beyond that. Yet it would only take a few days to send a message between the cities when passing it between riders in such a manner. One person might even make the ride, changing to a fresh horse at every stop.

She also came across similar Wandrev & Farthir posts at much larger intervals along the road, also situated in the farming communities. She knew the freight and transport company from the Imperial City, where she had seen their offices in both the Market District and Waterfront. These stations were simpler than the Imperial ones, yet still had spacious buildings and large coaches in their corrals. On a whim Teresa went into one, and the Bosmer clerk behind the counter told her that for only ten drakes she could send a letter to the Imperial City, or for twice that she could purchase a seat on the next carriage there. He told her that if she had been in Cheydinhal it would have been twice that, so that she should consider herself lucky for the discount.

Only ten drakes, Teresa thought, resisting the urge to cough. Twice that for the coach ride would have been the same as a night at a fancy place like the Merchant's Inn. She had no desire to spend money on a coach when she could walk just as easily. Yet the idea of sending a letter to Simplicia grabbed hold of her imagination like a slaughterfish and would not let go.

The forester had plenty of money from her potion-making, and knew that she could make it all back selling a Shield potion. Then of course there was all the money she had made from Vilverin. So in spite of the cost, it was without any real hesitation that Teresa parted with her gold and sat down to scratch out a page to the old woman.

Dear Simplicia,

I hope this letter finds you before I get back. They tell me it will be put on the next coach to the City and delivered to Jensine's. I know she likes you, so I am sure she will get it to you as soon as she sees you. You always told me that learning to read and write was important. Did you ever imagine I would be sending you a letter when you taught me how!

I am on the road returning from Cheydinhal. I picked alchemical ingredients all the way from the City Isle to there, and sold a lot of potions from them. I met a very nice magician in the woods by a beautiful waterfall and lake. I wish you could have seen it! I stayed with her for several days while she enchanted a new suit of armor for me. It is a little revealing, but is much stronger than my old leather. She says it is just as good as legion plate, so I will be much safer now! Not that I have ever really needed armor of course.

I met some soldiers on the road who told me that there is a new Emperor named Martin Septim, and that the Hero of Kvatch is at his side. Have they been talking about them in the Imperial City? That is all anyone talks about on the road, and in Cheydinhal. I hope this means things are getting better now. I am sure the new Emperor will set things right.

I am almost out of paper now, and they make me pay for each piece, so I have to make this short. I am on my way back to the City now. I should be there in less than a week. I miss you, and cannot wait to see you again.

Teresa

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Jul 30 2020, 01:39 AM

[haute ecole rider]

Yay for the Pony Express!

Wonderful touch on the dispatch riders. I really enjoyed reading this piece. And the letter to Simplicia is a wonderful summary of recent events.

[Destri Melarg]

At last we come to the dispatch chapter! I have been waiting for this:

I love the feeling of space that you give to Tamriel in the TF. Your description of the fields that fill the spaces between villages is spot on. It doesn’t matter if Teresa can see the lavender and monkshood along the road, I sure could. The gradual change in the fortifications the farther one ventures from the city is an especially nice touch.

Your description of the dispatch riders and the service that they perform is likewise excellent. I also like how you make the cost of sending a letter price prohibitive for the average person. The only minor consideration that I think you should make is that there should be an armed presence at each station. Given the pains that you took to describe the lengths that people will go to protect themselves far from the cities, I think that Wandrev & Farthir would do the same with their stations scattered in remote areas throughout Cyrodiil. I don’t think you need a sentry in full Legion armor, just something to handle over-curious wildlife and to give the bandits pause.

I agree with haute that the letter at the end was an immensely enjoyable read. I find it interesting that the letter will be delivered to Jensine’s. As head of the Society of Concerned Merchants she seems like a logical choice. I could have also seen you using Velus Hosidius, Publican of the Merchant’s Inn or Venisia Melissaeia at the Office of Imperial Commerce (although having said that, I should take it back. Melissaeia keeps regular business hours and who knows when those ponies will arrive).

Now (and I do realize that this might just be my testosterone talking) can we please, please, please let Teresa shoot something?!

[Olen]

some pure world-building stuff

That it was and that it did. I agree with Destri that you really have made Cyrodiil a realistically proportioned place, it's not just the time taken travelling but the whole systems that you build up with little villages getting steadily more defended and a courier system which brings the place to life with it's accuricy. It also strikes me a subtle poke at the fact that everyone in Cyrodiil knowns whats happening everywhere instantly.

Though saying that I suppose mages have means of communication (though somehow I doubt they'd be affordable).

Given the distraction it was causing, I took out "mortar and pestle" and replaced it with something more generic. I will try to never use those words again.

Awww... but unintended innuendo is the best kind.

And my testosterone seconds Destri's, can we have her shoot something, at at least hit it with a stone. Please

This post has been edited by Olen: May 28 2010, 10:27 AM

[SubRosa]

haute ecole rider: I guess my having watched The Young Riders shows...

The letter to Simplicia is one of the things I have been working at during these re-writes and new chapters. In the originals I was never really satisfied with the job I did of portraying Teresa's bond with Simplicia. So now I have been trying to put in little bits here and there of Teresa thinking of her as she goes about her travels, to show that her foster mother is never forgotten.


Destri Melarg: I had thought about the villages having armed guards when I first wrote the piece, then decided against it. I do not think simple farming folk would be able to afford something like that. However, I did go back and add in a few paragraphs describing the peasants themselves. Just as every self-respecting good 'ole boy today has a rifle rack in the back of his truck, I emphasized that Cyrodiilic farmers are likewise armed as well, with everyone carrying at least a knife at all times. There was no way to show it, but they would all have at least a spear and shield at home, and most likely a wood axe that would work just as well on goblins as it does on trees. The Wandrev and Farthir stations, being in the settlements, would simply rely on the locals for protection. Their coaches would naturally have armed drivers and an armed person riding shotgun (riding javelin?).

The main reason I went with Jensine was that she is a prominent local merchant in the IC. But perhaps even more importantly, she is someone we will be seeing more of in the TF.

Your testosterone should like the ending of this chapter.


Olen: Thank you Olen. In Morrowind (the game I mean, not the province) there seems to be a whole slew of ways to teleport all over the place. I noticed they dropped that in Oblivion, which I rather prefer. I think I like it better where you have to walk, ride, or sail to get where you want to go. It makes the world seem that much larger.

I promise your testosterone that the next two chapters will be abattoirs!


All: Now the final installment of chapter 9, where Teresa nearly gets back to the Imperial City. But something comes up while she crosses Lake Rumare. The ferry I depicted is a real life boat from the early 1800s, see more here about this amazing contraption.


* * *

Chapter 9e – On The Road

The rain finally stopped when the forester reached Lake Nemi. She found her gaze traveling to the waterfall spilling into its far end, crashing down from the highlands to the north. It was miles away, yet high enough that it was still plain to see even from the road. Thinking back to when she had first set eyes upon the twin lakes from the heights above Morcant's cottage, she realized that she was standing in that same hazy line that she had imagined might be the road and settlements.

Those settlements had became more numerous as well, not only along the road but clustering around the shores of the lake. The soil must be good here, the forester imagined. Or maybe it was the extra water? or Fort Urasek being not too far away? She really had no idea. It was not like she had a clue how farming worked. She had never even seen a farm until she had left the Imperial City with the Amulet of Kings a month and a half before.

She discovered that a narrow river flowed south from Lake Nemi when the Blue Road rose over it on a stone bridge. Following its meandering waters with her gaze, Teresa found that it vanished into a series of rolling hills that looked all wild to her. One day, she thought, she was going to have to go exploring to see what was down there.

Yet she had other things to do, and Simplicia was waiting for her at the end of her journey. First there was Vilverin. The armor and weapons of the bandits were still waiting there for her. Assuming someone else had not come along and taken them. Teresa briefly thought about going north around the lakes, and retracing her steps to the ruin. But she had already been that way. She had never been down the road, so she took it all the way to Fort Urasek instead.

With the denser population, or perhaps merely the better weather, she found herself passing more people on the road again as she made her way west. There were carters with wagons loaded down with goods, farmers either alone or in groups, Wandrev and Farthir coaches traveling in either direction, and the occasional legion rider as before.

Even a Black Horse courier came galloping past at one point, throwing Teresa a broadsheet that proclaimed an heir had been found, Martin Septim, and that he was at some place called Cloud Ruler Temple. Teresa wondered if that was anywhere near Bruma as she read on. But it contained little that she did not already know. It did add that Legions from Morrowind and Skyrim were marching to join the new Emperor, in addition to the Legion from Cyrodiil.

Reading the news made her eyes glance more and more to the north however, and a gnawing sense of dread began to creep into her stomach. Images of the card reading Morcant had done floated up in her memory. The Tower, The Daedric Prince, Death. The Witch had said a dark and terrible fire was coming. Was she headed right into it?

After a few days the Blue Road ended at Urasek. She found herself at the same road sign outside of the fort that she had passed in the moonlight. Had that been just a few weeks before? she wondered, it seemed like ages ago now. Turning to the north, she trudged along the Red Ring Road to Vilverin, her mind swirling with images from the book on Daedra.

The Ayleid ruin looked completely different in the sunlight. It seemed smaller, less mysterious and ominous then it had under the twin lights of Masser and Secunda. Yet perhaps that was simply due to the fact that now she knew every nook and cranny of the ruin, where the first time she had come to it she had no idea what to expect.

The well of magicka still rose to greet the sky, and once more Teresa reached within to draw forth as much of the energy as she could. "Never look a gift horse in the mouth," Simplicia had always said, and there was no telling if she might need it in the halls and chambers below her feet.

Moving quietly, with her bow strung and an arrow ready just in case, Teresa ventured below. Yet she found that the ruin was still as quiet and empty as the tomb it had now become. The gear of the bandits was still piled up where they had made their main camp in the ruin, and she packed it all away into several canvas sacks. Then she pulled out her mortar and pestle and brewed up a handful of Feather potions as Patvir's Guide instructed. Drinking one, she found herself feeling just as light as the potion's namesake, and hoisted the loot over her shoulders.

Climbing back up to the light of the sun, the wood elf stared across the lake. In the far distance she could dimly make out the shore of the City Isle. The sewer exit was somewhere over there, she thought. Part of her wanted to swim across to find it. Yet even with her Feather potions, she did not think swimming the expanse of the lake with the sacks of loot in tow was a good idea. It was just too many miles of water, and she did not know if the Jewel of the Rumare would keep everything within the bags safe as it did her armor and the other things she wore directly on her person.

With that in mind, Teresa instead set her feet back to the Red Ring Road and headed south. Every step she took gave her the feeling that she was approaching something, yet what it was she could not tell. Was she going to encounter Daedra on the road? she wondered, or in one of the villages or towns along the way to the Imperial City? That thought gnawed at her mood like a termite, and the farther she went, the more and more her eyes cast suspiciously about her on the road.

Yet a day later she was back in Urasek with nothing remarkable happening on the way. The town was larger than she had imagined when she had passed it in the night, stretching all the way from the stone walls of the fort to the shores of the lake. Like Sideways, it was bustling with carters and other travelers, mixed in with local farmers and fishermen.

Making her way to the docks, she found that most of the slips were empty. She did find one ferry still remaining however, and joined a line of other people boarding its wooden deck. Parting with more of her septims, she found a spot near a horse at one side of the vessel and sat down.

The boat had a wide hull, with a tall wheel of paddles rising up along either side, similar to those on a watermill. In front of each paddle was a horse, standing underneath an awning that protected it from the elements. Each wore the same kind of harness for pulling a wagon, yet in this case the yokes were fastened to iron bars built into the ship. Teresa noticed that the wooden deck had been cut out from under the horse's hooves, and instead the mighty animals stood upon some sort of platform underneath that was cut with regular grooves from side to side.

When finally the ferry was loaded with people and wagons, the crew cast off from the dock and set the horses into motion. Teresa found that even though they walked forward, they did not move from the places where they stood. That is when she noticed that their hooves were in fact pushing the grooved platform beneath them, turning it in a circle. It must be a wide, flat disc, she reasoned, and somehow its turning made the paddles to either side of the boat rise and fall, pushing the boat through the water.

Teresa stared in amazement. Horses were indeed pulling the boat as it set off into the placid waters of Lake Rumare. What surprised her even more was that they did not seem overly taxed by the effort. In fact, it seemed no more difficult for them than pulling a regular wagon.

Rising to her feet, the wood elf stepped closer to the small stall in which one horse stood. Its massive frame towered over her, and the strong musk of the animal filled her nostrils. She had to suppress the urge to reach out and touch the coal black hide of the animal. Instead she simply stared in wonder as the muscles of its shoulders bunched and flexed with every step. Now she noticed that he was not entirely black, but rather bore a small spot of white above his eyes, barely visible through the hair of his mane.

"What kind of horse is this?" She turned her gaze to the tiger-striped Khajiit that stood beside the horse, one hand on its harness.

"Oh, this is a Percheron," the feline said, turning from the horse to Teresa. "He's come all the way from High Rock to pull our ferry."

"He's beautiful," Teresa marveled, her eyes returning to the great beast.

"Aye, that's his name too, Beauty!" The Khajiit said with a grin that exposed his long fangs. "There's not a finer horse on the lake than this one! Go ahead and pet him if you like, he likes people."

Teresa could not restrain a faint smile as she reached out a pale hand to the glistening black flank of the horse. His short hair smooth as silk beneath her fingers, and his skin warm to the touch. She could feel bands of muscle the size of her entire body flexing under her hand as she gently slid it across his shoulder. Just one of its legs must weigh more than she did! she marveled. He was magnificent!

Her vision began to dim, and the sounds of the ferry faded into the distance. Teresa stepped back from the horse, seeing the world in a narrow tunnel rimmed in darkness. Within moments even that faded to black, and the feeling of the hard deck vanished from beneath her feet.

* * *

She was weightless, floating. No, flying, the wood elf realized, now feeling the wind rushing by under her wings. Opening her beak, a long, guttural caw issued from her throat to greet the green fields of heather far below her. It was another of the dream-flights, Teresa thought, except that she had not been asleep this time.

To her left rose the high stone walls of a city on the edge of the mountains. Arrayed on the plain outside of it was a host the size of which Teresa had never seen. Clad in steel and marching under dragon banners, the line of the army stretched for nearly a mile from side to side as it resolutely advanced across the fields to the east.

Waiting there for them was a nightmare, a horde of monsters that walked on both two legs and four, the fires of Oblivion rising up behind them. First came infernal beasts armed with jagged teeth and gleaming claws. Then came even formations of creatures that could have been men, but for their rust-colored skin and the horns that curled up from their foreheads. Marching under standards of bones and flayed skin, they carried weapons that made the forester's eyes feel like bleeding just to look upon them.

The jaws of Oblivion had opened wide.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Jul 30 2020, 01:39 AM

[D.Foxy]

Whoa!



Teresa pet the horse...and then she's transported to a battle?

I know Pecherons are powerful, but I didn't know they were THAT powerful!

Or did I miss something???

[haute ecole rider]

wonderful description of the ferry's mechanics. I loved it!

Percherons are usually grey, black is quite uncommon, but I digress. It's your fiction, it can be anything you want! However, their coats are smooth to the touch, more silky than coarse. It's the manes and tails that are coarse and wiry to the hand. Even in the winter, when they're shaggy, their coats are still fine and smooth to the touch. Quite pleasant, really. The closest I can compare is that of a Greyhound dog or a smooth-coated Pointer.

And now we approach the real Oblivion Crisis!