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

[Olen]

That was quite a part, one of the best I'd go so far as to say. Pleanty of action but also a lot of charactery stuff and all seamless, I echo Acadian's comment on how well tieing her armour into leading to the tarot and Morcant worked.

Its skull dissolved

That image really worked for me, I could see the bone blood and grey goo fly...

That's a powerful ending you gave it too, and a double cliffy. Not only is she barricaded in a shop with hordes of daedra outside but there's some juicy interaction to come too.

[SubRosa]

D.Foxy: Thank you Fox. That line was very important, as so much of the interaction between Vols and Teresa for the rest of this chapter (both spoken and especially unspoken), stems from it.


haute ecole rider: Thank you h.e.o. I put a lot more action into this chapter, and I hope the fast pace will keep it from feeling redundant after a while.

Also thank you for rescuing my creatures from that nasty apostrophe. Probably one of those snooty Alessian Orderists trying for force itself into my nice, elven word.

Jensine is going to keep that mace for defending her shop. I can already see where it will figure into later chapters.


Acadian: Thank you Acadian. That last segment, and this next one, are where it becomes apparent that Vols is indeed the Knight of Swords from Morcant's prophecy. In fact this is where many things began in that chapter with Morcant finally reach fruition.


Olen: Thank you Olen. As I am sure you noticed, I tend to keep the action to a minimum so it has a greater impact when it does happen. I also like to use it for character development whenever possible.

I am glad people like that line about Jensine killing the scamp. I was channeling years of watching anime into that visual!


Next: More Daedra, and more interaction between Teresa and her unexpected knight.

* * *

Chapter 11e - The Knight of Swords

Then the door buckled under another crash, and completely disintegrated after a second. What looked almost like a man stood in the entrance of the shop. He wore some sort of monstrous-looking metal armor that was rust red and covered with spikes and sharp ridges. In one hand he carried a jagged sword, and in the other a kite-shaped shield. His head was bare, exposing ashen skin and a pair of horns that rose up from his forehead. His eyes were fiery slits that scanned the room before falling upon Teresa.

"Your spine will be my trophy Bosmer!" His voice sent a chill through Teresa, sounding more like razor blades scraping against bare metal than the speech of a living being.

"A dremora!" Volsinius hissed, moving in front of Teresa with his shield up. His mithril sword was held low at his hip, edge parallel to the ground and point forward to stab.

"Give me room to shoot!" Teresa shouted, trying to push the legionary aside with her shoulder. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and every sane part of her was screaming at her to run. But something within her that was cold as Skyrim and hard as steel had risen up to steady her nerves and drive her on, as it always did in times like this

Volsinius moved aside while Teresa drew an arrow from the quiver at her hip. Clutching its shaft near the point, she drew hear arm across her waist to where a small jar hung on her left hip. Popping off the stopper with her thumb, she thrust the arrow into its open mouth and drew it back a moment later, leaving an inky paste smeared over the steel head.

By then the dremora had kicked a path through the corpse and furniture barricade and was charging forward. Teresa brought her bow to full tension in one smooth motion. There was no time to aim. She saw the fiery eyes of the monster in front of her, and simply loosed.

Then something large and unyielding shoved against her shoulder and sent her sprawling to the floor. Teresa heard the crash of metal on metal behind her, and when she turned her head and looked up she saw that Volsinius was standing where she had been an instant before, shield raised high to deflect the dremora's blade. If it had not been for him, she would have been standing there instead, she realized, and would probably have that sword buried in her skull.

As she watched, the legionary punched forward not with his sword, but with his shield. The dremora staggered, and Volsinius' arming sword darted forward like a serpent, striking low at the creature's belly. But the monster regained his balance quick enough to lower his shield and deflect the blow that would have gutted him. A second later it sent its own sword crashing once more into Volsinius' shield. Teresa could do nothing but stare in wonder. From where she lay on the floor they seemed more like a pair of gods trading blows than a mortal man and a monster.

The cold fury within Teresa did not allow her to stare for long however, and her fingers wrapped themselves around her bow. Scrambling to her feet, she reached for another arrow when the dremora suddenly slumped over forward, dropping his weapon and clutching at his midsection. His lips moved as if to speak, but no sound came out.

Volsinius did not spare a moment. He stepped forward and thrust the tip of his sword directly into the exposed flesh where the dremora's neck met his shoulder. A fountain of blood erupted from the terrible wound, yet the Daedra still made no sound. With a flip of his wrist that looked almost effortless, Volsinius tore out the rest of the monster's throat with his blade, and it finally crashed to the floor of the shop at his feet.

"I never landed a real hit till he doubled over like that," the legionary said, tapping his sword against the shaft of the arrow rising from the dremora's breastplate. "What's in that stuff?"

"Nightshade root," Teresa answered as she prepared her next arrow with the poison. "I was not sure if it would work on that thing."

"Good thing you were at point-blank range," Volsinius observed. "Its armor looks strong."

Teresa nodded as she poisoned another arrow and set it to the nock of her longbow. Simplicia and the others were now stepping up, clad in a hodgepodge of ill-fitting leather armor, with either an axe or mace in hand. If it were any other time Teresa would have laughed at how ridiculous they looked. But as it was she was having a hard enough time keeping her fingers from shaking on her bow.

"Volsinius I..." her lips tried to form the words to show her gratitude to the legionary. Yet as she looked through the slits in his helmet to his cold blue eyes, she found that her voice had deserted her.

She knew that she would be dead if it not for him, again, yet she could still not bring herself to even thank the legionary. She turned her face down to the corpse of the dremora at their feet, and was keenly aware of how red her cheeks were turning.

"There is nothing to say citizen," the legionary rasped. He strode to the doorway and began throwing junk back into the opening to rebuild the barrier. "We are here to serve."

Teresa had heard the men and women of the Imperial Legion say that a thousand times, but never to her until a few weeks ago. Once more her tongue felt the empty spot between her teeth, and she remembered that gauntleted fist crashing against her cheek. What do you do when the monster of your childhood saves your life? she wondered.

"Are you ok?" Teresa heard Simplicia ask, and she looked up just as the older woman brushed the red hair from her face to caress the same cheek that Volsinius had struck years before. "You had me scared to death."

Teresa wanted to say that she was just as frightened, but she did not think that the elderly beggar needed to hear that right now. Instead she put a comforting hand on Simplicia's leather-clad shoulder and forced a faint smile to her lips. She was just glad that both of them were still alive.

"What is going on out there?" Jensine asked, gingerly stepping near the doorway where Volsinius stood, but not too near...

"It looks like all Oblivion has broken loose," the legionary said, "this must be what it was like at Kvatch..., or Bruma."

"Bruma?" asked Gelephor, clutching an axe in his hand so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. "What about Bruma?"

"There was a big battle there a few days ago," Teresa found herself saying. "The whole army was there, and the new Emperor, and they stopped the Daedra."

"You're well informed," Volsinius rumbled, his eyes narrowing within the slits of his helmet. "We only just got the news from a courier a few minutes before all this started."

"But they stopped them right?" Jensine said, grasping onto that fact like a drowning woman onto a piece of driftwood. "So what are they doing here?"

"There must still be some left." Volsinius stated the obvious. "Most of the Fifth are still up at Bruma, so this is a damned bad time for it too. At least the Emperor's here. He stopped them before, he'll do it again. We just have to dig in our heels and hold out until then."

The Emperor! Teresa thought. He had been at Kvatch, she realized. Jauffre had sent Julian there to get him. Then he was at Bruma, and now here in the city. Every Daedric attack had been on a place where he was. They were after Martin!

Volsinius raised his shield then, and a moment later one of the massive crocodilian Daedra hurtled through the doorway and crashed against it. The legionary staggered backward with the daedroth's claws still wrapped around the edge of his shield. As Teresa watched in horror, she saw its long, serpentine head dart forward over the rim of his shield and at the soldier's head.

Somehow Volsinius threw his sword in front of his face, and the creature's jaws snapped around it rather than his head. The legionary tried to slash with it and rip the Daedra's jaws in half. But Teresa could see he was still off-balance, and was unable to get the strength of his body behind the motion. Instead the monster snapped its head to one side, tearing the sword from Volsinius' grip and spitting it across the room.

Teresa leaped into action then, darting forward right beside Volsinius. The wood elf saw the Daedra's head rear back for another strike, jaws gaping wide. She brought her bow to full tension in one swift motion, and the monster's head rushed forward as she loosed. A moment later it whipped back again with a brief flash of light. The feathered shaft of her arrow sprouted from the roof of its mouth, and its steel head erupted from the back of its skull.

The massive beast fell to the floor of the shop a moment later, still clutching Volsinius' shield in its claws. The legionary would have fallen with it if Teresa and Jensine had not been there to steady him. Once he had his legs under him, he used his free hand to pry the monster's dead claws from his shield.

"Those things hit harder than a troll," he gasped. "I think I saw the flash of a Shield spell when you hit it too. That was good shooting Bosmer."

Teresa had no time to think of a reply, because at that moment another of the dremora came charging into the shop, this one armed with a wickedly-flanged mace. Before either she or Volsinius could react, Gelephor, the Redguard, and even Simplicia rushed forward from all sides and hacked at it with their weapons. For a moment it staggered under the assault, but then it regained its feet and sent Gelephor flying with a backhanded swat of his mace.

Teresa drew forth another arrow and set it on her bow. Pulling it to half tension, she tried to sight in on the monster. But Simplicia, the Redguard, and now Jensine were clustered around it. She could not shoot without hitting one of them. She lowered her bow and tried to move to get a better angle, but there was always someone in the way. Then suddenly the dremora dropped to the floor with the Redguard's axe buried in the back of its skull.

Gelephor did not rise however, or make a sound. A moment later Jensine found that he was dead, his ribs crushed by that single blow of the dremora's mace.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Jul 5 2010, 11:44 PM

[haute ecole rider]

It was wonderful to see the citizen rally with the second dremora - they weren't about to let Vols and Teresa do all the fighting by themselves, were they?

Yet it was sad to see Gelephor die, and just when his axe dealt the death blow to that dremora, too!

Such is battle, and though the scale is much smaller than Bruma, it is no less intense.

[Acadian]

This was magnificent! Character interaction and development within the crucible of a brutal fight. Teresa's feelings are powerfully and well-presented.

From where she lay on the floor they seemed more like a pair of gods trading blows than a mortal man and a monster.
- What a chillingly powerful image!

"But they stopped them right?" Jensine said, grasping onto that fact like a drowning woman onto a piece of driftwood.
- This was wonderfully evocative.

She brought her bow to full tension in one swift motion, and the monster's head rushed forward as she loosed. A moment later it whipped back again with a brief flash of light. The feathered shaft of her arrow sprouted from the roof of its mouth, and its steel head erupted from the back of its skull.
- This made me cheer for the lethal power and beauty of the longbow.

Teresa drew forth another arrow and set it on her bow. Pulling it to half tension, she tried to sight in on the monster. But Simplicia, the Redguard, and now Jensine were clustered around it. She could not shoot without hitting one of them. She lowered her bow and tried to move to get a better angle, but there was always someone in the way. Then suddenly the dremora dropped to the floor with the Redguard's axe buried in the back of its skull.
- Buffy was screaming and jumping about as we read this. How well we know the frustration of helplessly trying to take a safe shot among fast moving friends and foes. You captured it perfectly!

This post has been edited by Acadian: Jul 4 2010, 07:43 PM

[Olen]

I like how you protrayed the awkwardness that Teresa felt in thanking Vols, it rang true and added a side of character to the action which you always seem to manage to include. It makes a big difference and the result is far more than the sum of the two.

You captured both the difficulty faced by ranged weapons firing into melees and also the difficulty of facing multiple opponents even if they are weak (as the dremora found to its cost).

"Nightshade root," Teresa answered

Nice accuricy in choosing the most poisonous part of the plant, I've never understood beth choosing the flower in game. It might have been an idea to mention a second ingregient though because I don't think nightshade is a particularly quick poison (though I could be wrong, it certainly isn't very potent (less than ~7grams of root is quite survivable)). But that does assume their nightshade is the same as ours.

Anyway great part, I do wonder if they will stay hiding though...

[Winter Wolf]

From where she lay on the floor they seemed more like a pair of gods trading blows than a mortal man and a monster.
- I agree with Acadian. This is epic description for the moment of the battle. Visceral!

Simplicia and the others were now stepping up, clad in a hodgepodge of ill-fitting leather armor, with either an axe or mace in hand.
- This really made me laugh. The battle is over and up they step.

The way you write Vols is so good. Teresa is always concerned about her treatment is the past but Vols is always the first to put it all on the line for her. The soldier in him overrules everything.

This post has been edited by Winter Wolf: Jul 5 2010, 07:16 AM

[SubRosa]

haute ecole rider: Thank you h.e.o. I invoked the Angry Peasant Law with that segment, showing how a mob of ordinary people can be extremely dangerous when their backs are to the wall.


Acadian: Thank you Acadian. This chapter is now chock full of fighting, but that one line about gods trading blows was always one of my favorites.


Olen: Thank you Olen. I did some research in real world poisons before eventually deciding upon nightshade as being Teresa's toxin of choice. You are correct that real nightshade would not be so deadly, so fast. Real world poisons cannot compete with the ones we see in video games. Even King Cobra venom usually takes 30-45 minutes to kill.

I put it down to the fact that Teresa is not just an ordinary person using nightshade, but rather an alchemist. So just as she can draw magical restorative qualities out of a sprig of lavender, she can pull magical poisonous qualities out of the nightshade, making it much more powerful than it otherwise would be.

What is really amazing is how many toxic plants are perfectly safe to eat in Oblivion. Monkshood, mandrake, amanita, etc... I don't think Bethesda researched many of the plants they decided to include.


Winter Wolf: Vols is meant to be that multi-faceted character you are seeing. On one hand he represents the worst of authority. In that regard he has become a very powerful symbol in Teresa's mind of the oppression of poor people like herself. Yet on the other hand he also represents the good in the military/police, being the shield of ordinary people against danger. As such, he plays a very key role in Teresa's feelings for the Imperial Legion.


All: After some ruminations in the bathtub, I have gone back an made Volsinus' sword mithril. This is part of a bit of world-building, in which all centurions, optios, and file leaders will be armed with them to fight against critters like ghosts and will-o-the-wisps, who are immune to normal weapons. Where the regular rank and file would be armed with steel. I know in the game every legionary has a silver sword, but giving them each a mithril one seems too unrealistic. It would just cost too much. The Empire is already spending a ton of money on them with their armor and training as it is.

Next, more of our band fall before the never-ending tide of Daedra, and Simplicia shows what a parent is capable of when their children are threatened.


* * *

Chapter 11f - The Knight of Swords

The Daedra continued to pour from the Oblivion Gate outside the front door. There were larger versions of the scamps they had previously fought, another of the daedroth, and many more dremora. Somehow they held them off, and more than once it was the armor and weapons that Teresa had taken from Vilverin that made the difference. Especially the suit which Morcant had enchanted for Teresa, for it held up to everything the Daedra threw at her.

Still, their good fortune could not last forever under the onslaught. With an Oblivion Gate directly outside the front door, the first thing every Daedra that came through it saw was the shop. Because of that there seemed to be a never-ending tide of the monsters charging in. The Redguard was the next to die, pummeled to death by a clannfear that had burst into the shop with a flame atronach.

Teresa had been able to put herself in the way of most of the second creature's fiery blasts, her enchanted armor blunting the heat of the magical flames. Yet when the clannfear came after her, she was forced to scramble on top of the counter to avoid being crushed by the beast's headlong charge.

The wood and glass frame of the counter shattered under the impact, and Teresa found herself falling behind it. Looking up, she saw Jensine pound on the bony sail that ringed the monster's skull with her Dwemer mace. Yet each strike brought a wince of pain from the woman, who soon dropped to the floor with blood caking her head. That was when Teresa remembered what Varieties of Daedra had said about clannfears. They magically reflected some of the harm done to them back upon their attackers.

Yet that did not work on missiles, or magic, she recalled. Thanks to Jensine, she had the time to get back to her feet and nock another arrow. As the monster climbed over the wreck of the counter, she drilled an arrow through one of its eyes from less than a foot away.

Looking across the shop, she saw the flame atronach drive a roundhouse punch into the elven body shield that Simplicia held. The old woman went sprawling to the floor, the enchanted shield falling from her hand. Teresa scrambled for an arrow with shaking fingers as the atronach stepped closer, raising a hand and pointing it at the stunned beggar. No! Teresa cried silently, frantically trying to fix the arrow to her bowstring.

A bright streak of flame erupted from the Daedra's fingertips. Yet the blaze did not engulf Simplicia. For Volsinius had stepped in front of her at the last second, and instead the yellow fire spilled across his shield. He staggered under the blast, and the wooden core of his shield ignited with even brighter flame, forcing him to hurl it aside.

The atronach raised its arm, pointing directly at the legionary's head. He tried to turn away, but was not quite fast enough, and fire spilled across the left side of the helmet. Now the legionary did scream. He fell, grabbing for his helmet, and Teresa could see fire licking from the slit cut within its face.

But then she had an arrow on her string, and let fly. The flame atronach jerked to the side as it drove into its armpit. Turning to face Teresa, it sent a bolt of fire after her. She did not bother to dodge, and allowed the magical flames to harmlessly wash over her. Then she sent another arrow into the feminine torso of the Daedra. It staggered once more, and then Simplicia was on her feet again, driving her axe into its skull.

* * *

Volsinius' helmet lay on the stone floor, still glowing from heat beside the ashes of his shield. His head was blackened from top to bottom with what looked like soot, and what little hair he may have had before was gone, even his eyebrows. Teresa wondered how much of the ashen residue on his face was from the burning of his helmet liner, and how much was his own flesh? His left eye was shut, but his right shone with the same glacial hardness it had always possessed as he rose to his feet and gathered up his mithril blade.

"We need to get upstairs," he rumbled, eyeing the open doorway, whose frame was bathed in the red-orange glow of the Gate outside. "They can only come at us one at a time on the staircase."

So Teresa and Simplicia gathered up Jensine and carried her to the stairs at the side of the shop. The merchant's head was covered in blood, and Teresa thought she could see white pieces of bone showing. Yet Jensine still breathed. She had better, Teresa thought, she had forced the last of her healing potions down the shopkeeper's throat before picking her up.

They found the door was locked, but Simplicia discovered the key on a ring of them hanging from Jensine's waist. Within they found a single large room that was divided into sleeping, kitchen, dining, and sitting areas. At any other time Teresa would have been amazed at the linen tapestries and paintings that hung from the walls, the bookcase filled with leather-bound volumes, or even the painted vases which held flowers and other plants. She knew it was entirely ordinary, but to her street urchin's eyes it was practically a palace. Yet all she could think of now was to throw whatever furniture she could gather against the door behind her.

Glancing out a window as she worked, the wood elf could see that the street was pure chaos. All manner of Daedra stalked here and there, chasing down whatever mortals showed themselves. Some of the people fought back however, and it was not only mortal bodies that littered the cobblestones. The air was filled with screams and the stench of burning wood and flesh. It was a nightmare come true, and once more the forester was reminded of the Tower card. Everything Morcant had predicted had come true, she thought.

A pounding at the door brought Teresa around. A moment later it burst open with a sizzling of lightning, and Teresa could feel her hair standing on end. Within the doorway stood a dremora armed with a mace and shield. Behind him stood another with a staff, whose twisted end still smoldered from released energy.

Volsinius rushed forward, shoving at the first dremora and trying to push him down the stairs. The monster held his ground though, and instead it was the legionary who was thrown back. The dremora's mace licked out, and the soldier raised his left arm to block it. The flanged head of the weapon struck the legion armor with a loud crack, and Volsinius staggered. While the soldier was still off-balance, the dremora followed with a thrust of his mace, burying the spike at its tip deeply into the legionary's gut. Yet still Volsinius did not fall. Somehow he took hold of the Daedric weapon with one gauntleted hand and held it fast. His own sword struck out then, but was pushed aside by the dremora's shield.

Then one of the Teresa's poisoned arrows buried itself under the dremora's extended right arm, piercing the weaker mail there. The dremora let go of his mace and fell to one knee. That gave the magician behind him room to see however, and the next thing Teresa knew lightning was dancing in front of her eyes.

Her body burned, and she could not restrain the scream that tore through her lips. Most of the pain subsided a moment later, and shaking her head, she found herself lying on the floor, smoke curling up from her frame. She tried to rise, but agony lanced through her belly, causing her to fall back to the floor. Looking down, she saw that her leather and hide cuirass had virtually disintegrated, and she hoped the blackened mass she saw beneath it was only the linen tunic she wore underneath, and not her flesh.

Her heart was a hammer in her chest. She had to do something, she realized, or they were all doomed. She saw Volsinius struggling to pull the mace tip from his stomach, now on his knees in front of the dremora who had stabbed him. Simplicia stepped beside him and pummeled at the dremora with her axe, yet its armor was strong, and her blows fell away with no obvious effect. Still, mace lost, and poison coursing through its body, the dremora did not rise to strike back at the beggar.

Then the dremora mage filled Teresa's vision, and she saw its staff lower. Agony shot through her body as once again lightning engulfed her. The stench of burning meat filled her nostrils, and the shrill sound of screaming was in her ears. The entire world vanished into a haze of white hot anguish.

When the room swam back into view, Teresa found Simplica standing over the body of the dremora mage, bloody axe in hand. Behind her lay the dremora maceman, glassy eyes staring at the ceiling overhead. Volsinius lay face-down nearby, and the wood elf was not sure if he still breathed or not.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Jul 10 2010, 04:07 AM

[haute ecole rider]

Talk about the chaos of war.

You have captured the fast pace and frenetic activity that is all too typical of CQ combat. Also, the limited endurance of people holding fast on a piece of land against an endless onslaught is well captured on a smaller scale here.

I think you have added more detail this time around. However, one little detail seems to have fled:

But then she had an arrow on her sting, and let fly.

While I'm sure the arrow packs quite a sting, I think the "r" has panicked and disappeared on you!

[Acadian]

gRRRRRRitty! Wow! Let my heart slow, whew.

Non stop action that just kept building. Your combat descriptions were painfully immersive. Bravo, SubRosa!

Everyone was heroic, but so very real and human (or elven as the case may be) in their limitations.

I really liked the 'optional' part you put in describing Teresa's reaction to seeing Jensine's private quarters upstairs. The heat of battle does not filter 100% of one's 'normal' thoughts out of mind. Oddly, it reminded me of wonderful bobg describing Sarrah's unrelated thoughts such as the body odor of her foe or cooking dinner with Angel during a deadly melee encounter. A small and brilliant diversion allowing readers to catch their breath as the action shifted upstairs.

I look forward to the aftermath of this with intrepidation. So much damage to so many lives. You make it very clear that this pitched battle was just one of countless simultaneous 'fire fights' in the city.


nits?

With an Oblivion Gate directly outside the front door, the first thing every Daedra that came through it saw the shop.

The latter part of this seems to be missing a word? Perhaps: ...through it saw was the shop.

"We need to get upstairs," he rumbled, eyeing the open doorway, whose frame was bathed in the red-orange glow the Gate outside.

Similarly, perhaps a missing word in the latter part of this passage as well? ...bathed in the red-orange glow {of / from / cast by?} the gate outside.

[D.Foxy]

Who makes this old warrior's heart pound, lips snarl, and feet subconciously dance by her writing?


Who is ... SUB ROSA!!!


Jeopardy question answered!!!

[Olen]

Wow... That was gritty, violent, and real. The fast paced confusion and desperate fighting was well caught, as was the wearing down of them by the daedra. Nice detail with the clanfear damaging Jensine, things like that really make this story stand out in terms of worldbuilding and bringing the lore to life.

That gate had better shut pretty soon now though! Simplicia with an axe is only going to last so long... And neither will my patience, after such an exciting fast paced part I want more

I agree that Beth's choice of ingredient effects are quite bizarre... but I suppose they had to work with gameplay mechanics. There are a few fast action natural poisons, strychnine would be the main one (though non of the ingredients in game have much in).

My only mild nit would be:
"Volsinius' helmet lay on the floor, the left side melted into a shapeless mass of steel beside the ashes of his shield. His head was blackened from top to bottom with what looked like soot, and what little hair he may have had before was gone, even his eyebrows." -- after the gritty realism of the rest of it this stuck out a bit, if the heat was enough to melt the steel I would have thought it would taken his face clean off even through the helmet.

[Remko]

I agree with Olen on the steelpart however; seeing it is plate, it exchanges heat SUPER fast.

[SubRosa]

haute ecole rider: Thank you h.e.o. Fast-paced is what I am trying for. That "r" probably got scared away by the Clannfear. I convinced it that it was safe to return however.


Acadian: Thank you Acadian. Heroic yet with real limits is what I always want to portray in battle scenes. Uber characters get boring pretty quickly.

Thank you for spotting my missing words in those passages. They probably ran off with haute's "r" above. The MPs have rounded them up and returned them back to their units now.


D.Foxy: Thank you DF.


Olen & Remko: Thank you Olen. Yours and Remko's nit has been addressed.


Next: Teresa and Simplicia are all that remain of our desperate band, and the Daedra continue to attack. However, they have one last card to play...


* * *

Chapter 11g - The Knight of Swords

"Oh my baby girl!" Simplicia cried out, hobbling to Teresa's supine form and cradling her in her arms. The wood elf's body screamed in agony at the Imperial's touch, yet somehow the old woman's embrace cut through all of that. It was like she was a child all over again, crying after being beaten up by the bigger kids, and for a few moments she found comfort in the old woman's arms.

But the pain that lanced through her would not be held at bay. Gritting her teeth, she formed the image of her healing spell in mind. Picturing herself healthy and whole, she gathered up her magicka into her fist. Letting it go, a white sphere of light erupted from her fingers, washing over her body like cool water on a hot day.

Teresa felt some of the pain subside then, but her body still ached. Again and again, she called up her magicka and loosed it into her healing spell, until finally she had none left within her. By then she was able to climb to her feet, Simplicia steadying her. Her eyes fell upon her backpack, and she remembered Morcant's parting gift.

"There's a scroll in my pack," she croaked, nodding toward the leather bag. "Get it. Use it when they come again."

"A scroll?" Simplicia muttered, hobbling across the room on bloody legs and stooping before the pack. Teresa thought she heard footsteps on the stair below, and drew forth another arrow from her quiver. The last one, she thought, burying its tip into the poisoned jar at her hip.

The old woman drew forth the rolled up parchment when a dremora swordsman came in. The wood elf could see others of its kind on the stair behind it. Raising her bow, she took careful aim and loosed. Yet the Oblivion-spawn lifted its shield, and the missile buried itself harmlessly in its face.

"How do I use it?" Simplicia asked frantically, limping further back in the room with all the speed her aged frame could muster.

"Just read it!" Teresa shouted. Now the dremora was upon her, its sword falling at her head. Out of reflex she threw up her bow stave, and heard it crack as the Daedric steel drove through it. Yet it was enough to slow the weapon, for it only bounced off the hardened leather that remained on her shoulders, rather than taking her arm with it.

Still, that was enough to drive Teresa to the floor. Out of reflex she fixed the symbol of her Flare spell in mind. Yet when she put her hand out, nothing came forth. She had no magicka left, she realized hopelessly, she had used it all on her healing spells moments before.

"Grizzly?" she heard Simplicia say in a voice filled with doubt. Teresa heard a whoosh of energy fill the room. Yet her eyes were taken up by the sight of the dremora standing over her, sword held over his head, so that the point nearly stuck against the high ceiling of the room. Closing her eyes, she gritted her teeth and waited for it to fall, and take her life with it.

Instead the pungent musk of an animal filled her nostrils, and a snuffling noise came to her ears. Opening her eyes once more, she saw a mountain of brown fur rising before her. A massive paw lashed out, and the dremora's head jerked to one side with a loud crack. The Daedra fell like a ragdoll, and Teresa pulled herself to her feet.

Before her stood a grizzly bear, a massive bundle of muscle, fur, fangs, and claws. As she watched, the gigantic animal reared back on its hind legs and stood upright. A roar split through the room as it leaped forward at the other dremora. One raised a shield to defend itself, but was thrown to the floorboards by the massive beast. The bear's muzzle dropped then, and came away black with Daedric blood as the dremora's head rolled away.

Screenshot

The other Daedra turned and fled then. Yet one was not quick enough. The grizzly pounced on it and drove it face-down into the floor. The bear tore apart the armor on the dremora's back, and Teresa was reminded of how the first daedroth had done the same to the Khajiit at the beginning of the attack. Daedric screams filled air, and soon chunks of flesh and bone were being ripped away as well. Within a few minutes the screams ceased, and the bear lifted its stained muzzle to let forth a roar of triumph.

Thank the gods it is on our side, Teresa thought as she watched their gargantuan protector standing in the doorway, and thank Morcant. For without the Witch's scroll, both she and Simplicia would have been dead.

Simplicia came up to her then, with one wary eye upon the bear which she had summoned. Looking down, Teresa saw that her bow was in pieces on the floor. Not that it would have done her much good anymore with no arrows left. Likewise, she saw that her armor was nothing but tatters on her slender frame, rent by claw, fang, swords, and magic.

Better it than me, Teresa thought, and once more she silently thanked Morcant. She knew that her old armor would have never stood up to that punishment. Especially not from the flames. Once again, she owed her life to meeting the Witch.

She limped forward with Simplicia in tow. That is when she was struck by the silence that filled the air. There were no screams, no shouts, no crash of booted feet on the stairs. It was as if somehow the battle had paused, and the world held its breath.

That is when she heard it. A man's voice in her ear, soft and raspy. She knew instantly whose it was, for she had heard it before, raised above the din of battle at Bruma. Martin Septim, the son of Uriel.

"The amulet is shattered, the Daedra are defeated.
With the dragon's blood in the Amulet of Kings,
we have sealed the Gates of Oblivion, forever

The last of the Septims passes now into history.
I go gladly, for I know my sacrifice is not in vain.
I take my place with my father, and my father's fathers.

The Third Age has ended, and a new Age dawns.
When the next Elder Scroll is written, you shall be its scribe.
The shape of the future, the fate of the Empire, these things, now belong to you."

[haute ecole rider]

And with that, we can now catch our breaths and all fall down in exhaustion!

Thanks to our friend, Morcant's grizzly, we gave those last few daedra what-for! May they never underestimate the beasts of Nirn again!

Whew! I bet you were glad when you finished writing this one!

[Acadian]

Wonderful SubRosa. Powerful stuff indeed. Poor Teresa, out of airspeed, altitude and ideas (or bow, armor and arrows if you prefer). Thank you Morcant for that scroll!

Many wonderful threads weaving through this. Teresa's relationship with Simplicia, the pitched battle both in and out of Jensine's store, the references to Morcant.

I loved the use of the bear scroll. Similarly, how very powerful to end with Martin's words.

Thanks for the screenie. Here are some more pix of your cast:
Vols:
Dremora:
Morcant:
Simplicia:
Teresa:

[D.Foxy]

I know something of Ursus Horriblis from personal encounters....600 to 1,200 pounds of beast...


..and I can tell all you readers that SubRosa is, if anything, underestimating the power of a grizzly. These beasts have been known to flip over a two-ton stone boulder just to get to something interesting they have sniffed underneath.

A real Grizzly would not have thrown the dremora to the floorboards with a swipe. If he was using his full power, he would have smashed that dremora THROUGH a wall.

This post has been edited by D.Foxy: Jul 9 2010, 02:27 AM

[Remko]

I once saw a demonstration of a Grizzly Bear's strength by leaving some food in a car.
You'd say a door is secured tightly to the car? Nope, one tear, gone is the door, same goes for the seats. Basically, a bear can turn a car into scrap in mere seconds.

[haute ecole rider]

Like I said, never underestimate Kynareth's kin!

[Destri Melarg]

Chapter 11c

So Ray Stevenson as Vols, eh? I can absolutely see it. Now I like Vols even more. As great as Stevenson was as Titus Pullo, I liked him even more as Dagonet in the under-rated King Arthur with Clive Owen and Ioan Gruffud (we shall choose to ignore his unfortunate turn in Punisher: War Zone).

You presentation of the climax of the main quest in the IC is nothing short of amazing. Again I love the fact that Teresa seems to be swept up in the events as they unfold. You move us seamlessly from the mundane occurrences of the day with the perfectly detailed description of Jensine’s and Simplicia’s obvious pride at Teresa’s success in the wilds. Through Jensine’s eyes we are able to see once again how that self-sufficiency shows even in Teresa’s appearance. Then what was an enjoyable interlude goes absolutely bats@#$ insane as the Oblivion Crisis explodes close to home! Excellent.

Chapter 11d

I got completely lost in this chapter. One of the hallmarks of great storytelling is the ability to make your reader forget that he/she is reading a story. We all strive to give the feeling that our reader is experiencing the story right along with the characters. To say that you succeeded in this chapter is a gross understatement. I love how Teresa ignored the scamp at her feet to concentrate on protecting Simplicia. I also loved Jensine’s quick thinking in bashing that scamp with a mace and then dividing the armor from Vilverin amongst the others. The ending with Vols was the icing on the cake, Teresa sure has come a long way from that skinny elf in the oversize leathers killing goblins in the sewers!

Chapter 11e

I agree with Olen: Teresa’s awkwardness in trying to thank Vols really underscores the conflict that she feels towards the man. How often in life do strong emotions turn upon themselves? Love turns to hate and joy turns to rage all too quickly (just ask basketball fans in my home town, Cleveland).

Gelephor’s death was regrettable, but it serves to show us just how precarious the situation is. So far I’ve counted at least six Daedra that have already stormed through Jensine’s door. How much longer can the motley crew inside hold out? I can’t wait to find out.

Chapter 11f

I had it all thought out in my head. I was going to go into great detail about everything there was to like about this chapter. I was all set to wax poetic about the depth and force of your writing of late. But, alas, I reach the end of the chapter and only one thought burns into my mind.

NOT MY ARMOR!!! DAMN!!!!

Chapter 11g

For some truly interesting reading on the subject of grizzly bears check out the journals of the Corps of Discovery. The men who followed Lewis and Clark into the wilderness encountered grizzlies that required the better part of a day and bags full of ammunition to put down! Their descriptions paint the beasts as almost supernatural in their strength and ferocity. Like Foxy and Remko said; those Dremora got off easy.

[SubRosa]

haute ecole rider: Not finished yet. There is still one more segment in our drama.


Acadian: Thank you Acadian. I had all of this planned when I wrote The Witch of Lake Trasimene. The advantage of working with an outline that stretches far in advance. That last pic of Teresa was absolutely perfect!


D.Foxy: I kept the grizzly low-key on purpose. I did not want it to seem too overdone. It gets the job done, killing everything in sight.


Remko: Those summoned grizzly bears are why the goblins leave Morcant alone! Not to mention why the bandits trade with her, rather than attack.


Destri Melarg: Thank you Destri. Sorry about your armor. It was meant to end this way from the very beginning. Your dwemer mace is still quite whole though, and we will be seeing more of it in the future.

I liked Ray Stevenson in the second Punisher movie. I think he was perfect as Frank Castle. Unfortunately the movie itself stunk, but I do not blame him for that. Check out Outpost. It is a neat little military-horror movie that he stars in.

You noticed the weapons and armor of Vilverin. Like the events of Witch of Lake Trasimene, that chapter too was written with this in mind. If Teresa had not gone there, then she would have never gotten those weapons and armor, and because of that Jensine would not have been able to pick up your namesake's mace and use it on first the scamp attacking Teresa, and later the clannfear. Not to mention the gear that Simplicia and the others used. So here we see the full reason for Raven leading Teresa there in the first place.


Next: The epilogue to our tale, where Teresa faces down the monsters of her past.

* * *

Chapter 11h - The Knight of Swords

Teresa fell to her knees, unable to stop the tears spilling from her eyes. "No!" she sobbed into her hands. "Not him too! Not Martin!"

"What are you talking about?" Simplicia put an arm around Teresa. Blinking through the tears, the wood elf looked up to see a mix of puzzlement and concern upon the old woman's features.

"Didn't you hear?" Teresa murmured. "He's dead. The Emperor's dead."

"What are you talking about?" the beggar wondered aloud, brow furrowing in consternation. "I don't hear anything. And what's this about the Emperor? What makes you say he's dead?"

"I… I heard his voice," Teresa stammered. "He talked to me. You didn't hear him?"

"No," Simplicia said sternly. "And you'd better not go telling people you're hearing voices either. Or they'll think you're crazy."

Both women looked up at the sound of a bell ringing, then another, and another. Climbing to her feet once more, Teresa made her way to the windows, Simplicia hovering beside her. The street was littered with bodies, some of people, some of Daedra. There was no sign of the Oblivion Gate however, nor of anything moving.

The sound of hooves came to the Bosmer's ears, followed by a distant voice. Turning their heads in the direction it was coming from, Teresa and Simplicia found that it was a Khajiit on a black horse. He rode down the street as fast as he could without his horse tripping over the bodies. After a moment Teresa recognized the rider as being Hassiri of the Black Horse Courier. She had seen him handing out copies of the news sheet plenty of times in the past. Simplicia had taught her to read by using them in fact.

"It's over!" the Khajiit cried, waving his hand in the air in triumph. "It's over! The Oblivion Gates are closed! Emperor Martin has summoned Akatosh and banished Mehrunes Dagon!"

The nightmare was over, Teresa thought, finally over. She could see other survivors coming out into the street now. Some were shouting the news as well, and others cheering, but most looked as dazed and tired as she felt. Teresa closed her eyes and thanked every god and goddess she knew to still be alive.

The grizzly bear vanished in a whirl of purple energy then, making Teresa start in surprise. Gazing through the empty space where it had stood moments before, her eyes set upon Volsinius. With everything else, she had forgotten about him. He still lay where he fell, face down in front of the dremora who had stabbed him.

"I think the bugger finally met his match," Simplicia said as she followed Teresa's gaze. "He looks done for."

No! Teresa thought with a sinking feeling in her chest. Not again, not like Gelephor, or the Redguard, or Emperor Uriel. All dead right in front of her eyes, with her unable to do a thing to stop it.

She forced her aching body to stagger across the floor to where the legionary was sprawled in a widening pool of blood. Her scorched limbs screamed in protest at every motion. Yet cross the space to the legionary she did, and with Simplicia's help she rolled him over onto his back.

Both of his eyes were closed, and Teresa was not sure if he was alive or dead. It was only then that she saw that what she had hoped was only soot on the left side of his head was actually a grisly mass of burned flesh. How could he have even stayed on his feet like that? Teresa wondered in amazement, let alone fight?

But the more immediate source of trouble was his stomach. A rent in his armor there was oozing the blood she saw pooling on the floor. With Simplicia's help she frantically tore off his battered cuirass and cut away the thick, padded linen shirt he wore beneath it. His chest rose and fell, showing that he yet lived. Yet his skin beneath was revealed to be a roadmap of black and purple bruises. A round hole was driven into his belly, and it was there that Teresa pressed the remnants of his tunic in an effort to stop the blood welling up from it.

Yet the blood continued to come, flowing steadily around the cloth. It had been the same with Jensine, Teresa remembered. It had only been healing potions that had stopped her head from bleeding. But they had used the last of their potions saving her...

Teresa saw her backpack laying against the side wall of the bedroom. All of the alchemical ingredients she had been gathering for the last week were still in there, she remembered.

"Try your best to hold the bleeding," Teresa told Simplicia, and against the wishes of her body, she rose to her feet and forced herself to walk to her pack. She unceremoniously dumped its contents on the floor and frantically dug through the scattered items until she found her mortar and pestle. Then tearing open a smaller bag that she used to store her ingredients, she yanked out a sprig of lavender and a cap of fly amanita and began grinding them down.

"Are you sure Teresa?" Simplicia asked, looking down at the rent body of the legionary. "You remember who this is don't you?"

Teresa looked up from her mortar and pestle. She remembered that smack across her face as child. The feeling of cold, unyielding steel as it crashed against her jaw. The horrible crack as her tooth broke loose, and the warm, salty taste of blood in her mouth. It was all indelibly burned into her mind, as was how Volsinius had forced her to say "Thank you," as if he were doing her a favor by knocking her teeth out. It had been that or prison though. So Teresa had said it. She had been eight years old, and she had seen it in her head every time she set her eyes on a legionary since.

"I remember," Teresa said, "but I can't just let him die. Not like this."

She lowered her head to her mortar and pestle and concentrated on her work. Using every last effort of will, she created a fine mash of the plants. Then she added a small amount of water from her traveling flask and mixed it all together into a pink solution. Rising and dragging herself across the floor while taking care to spill none of the potion, she knelt beside the legionary's body once more.

Simplicia lifted the soldier's head while Teresa held the mortar up to his mouth. She let the pink fluid gently flow between his lips until it was gone. Then the two of them stared at his body, waiting for some sign that it had worked. A moment later they were rewarded when his bleeding stopped and he coughed up spittle in both their faces.

"Now that is gratitude!" Simplicia laughed. Teresa could not contain a faint smile herself as she tried to wipe away his bloody spit. When she realized that she was only smearing more blood on her face from her gloves she gave up.

"What's so damn funny?" Volsinius growled, opening his right eye and looking from one woman to the other. He tried to lift his body for a moment, but collapsed in a heap as his face contorted in agony. "Can't a man get a moment's peace?"

Teresa looked down at Volsinius' broken form and compared him to the monster of her childhood memories. Somehow, she could not imagine the two were the same, not anymore. Before her lay a man, one filled with flaws and ugliness, but a man nonetheless, and one that had saved her life more than once with no thought to what it had cost him.

She did not know what he was, but he was no monster. Of that she was certain, just as she knew he would no longer haunt her memories.