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

[D.Foxy]

quiet bedroom district

HUH?

Wha..

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


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

[Destri Melarg]

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

Chapter 6:

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

Go Teresa!

[Olen]

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

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

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

[SubRosa]

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


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

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


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

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

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

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


* * *

Chapter 6b - You Can't Go Home Again

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Apr 12 2011, 09:41 PM

[haute ecole rider]

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

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

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

This sums up the entire chapter.

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

[Remko]

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

[Destri Melarg]

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

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

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

Bravo!

[minque]

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

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

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

[SubRosa]

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

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


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


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

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

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

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


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




* * *

Chapter 6c - You Can't Go Home Again

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

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

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

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

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

Screenshot

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You went there?" Adanrel said in shock.

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

Screenshot

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then she was gone.

* * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finally, Teresa knew that she was home.

Screenshot

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Jul 30 2020, 01:37 AM

[Olen]

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

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

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

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

[minque]

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

[Destri Melarg]

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

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

[Remko]

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

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

[SubRosa]

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

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

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


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


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


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


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


* * *

Chapter 7a - Vilverin

8th - 10th Midyear, 3E433

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Jan 7 2011, 03:42 AM

[minque]

Nice! Love your descriptions of the landscape and nature as well as the sunset over White Gold Tower! I could easily see all of it in my head, what I mean is even if you never played Oblivion you can actually see the nature...

No I haven't really played the game but I have seen my son play...

I'm very eager to see where this leads so I'm sitting here waiting....

[Olen]

Great description of city isle, you amke the place so much more than it was in game. I could really picture the rolling farmland and wooded north and road, it just all came together to be what the place should have been.

The writing was particularly good in the last section too, I can't put my finger on it but I just really enjoyed reading it. It could be how the new Teresa has emerged but I thik there's more. It might just reflect that it is new material too. Whatever the reason it was a great part.

Nits:
"Good morning," she said to them in reply -- you might want to consider changing 'morning' to 'evening' seeing as that is the time. I got that it was evening fairly quickly but it caused me a moment's confusion. Saying that if you think 'morning' added more than was lost in flow (at least for me) then there's no problem.

the massive wooden pylons that nailed the pier to the lakebed -- I think pylons should be piles.

[haute ecole rider]

This is new material, all right, and it shows. Well written, well crafted from the beginning to the end. I liked Teresa's moment of concern when she heard about Kvatch's fall, her thoughts for Martin and the white-haired Redguard (gee, I wonder who that could be? ). The description of City Isle as being much larger and more varied than in the game is also delightful.

I agree with Olen about the posts that anchor docks: pylon is kind of modern, and bring to mind cell-phone towers and electric fence posts. Pile, or pilings, though, is the traditional term for the massive timbers that support the planks of docks and piers.

Look forward to more!

[treydog]

I have at last caught up again- and it has been a real treat! The mystical dreams and their role in Teresa's growth has added a whole new dimension- one that really enhances this brilliant story.

I also loved the cameo of Julian- it really adds a sense of event happening in the wider world, while providing a nice easter egg for readers of a certain other story....

The new material is also exciting, and it again shows your eye for detail and your excellence at description. What a wonderful journey this has been so far- and I know it will be even more so in the future.

[Acadian]

Also caught up now. Very, very nicely done! This is a pleasure to read. I have spent quite a bit of time in Methredel's house so that part was neat. I quite enjoy the Waterfront in the game.

[SubRosa]

minque: Thank you minque. If your son has Oblivion then kick him off the comp and start playing it!


Olen: Thanks O. One of the things I aim to do with the TF is to portray Cyrodiil is a much larger place than in the game. As well as try to apply a little more realism (i.e. big cities require even bigger farmlands to feed everyone).

Thank you for catching those nits. Both fixed.


haute ecole rider: Thank you h.e.r. That certain Redguard appears again in this post, in more than just rumor...

We are used to seeing the Oblivion Crisis from the center of it all. One thing I am going to try to do with this chapter and the next is to give a common person's view of the Crisis. Teresa will learn about events in the same way everyone else does, through rumors, Black Horse Courier reports, talking to soldiers on the road, magical divinations, etc...


treydog: Woof! I am glad the dreams are working. They do seem to add a whole new dimension to Teresa without really fundamentally changing who she is. I think (hope!) they might instead give a little more reason for her to do many of the things she does. Like do her first dungeon dive, go to this place or that, many of which did not have a real solid rationale to them in the original version.

I like cameos. If I could find some way to work in Rales or Athlain (or best of all Athynae!) into the TF I would. Julian's has been very fortunate for me, as she fills a space that was very vague in the past (who the Hero of Kvatch/Bruma was). So it is both a neato! moment to read, but also takes an important place in the plot.


Acadian: Hail sir Knight! Methredhel is one of my favorite npcs in the game. I am still looking forward to writing Methredhel's Eleven...


* * *

Chapter 7b - Vilverin

The twin moons Masser and Secunda were lowering on the horizon by the time Teresa rose from the waves on the opposite shore of the lake. Checking the bowstrings she kept in a pouch across her chest, she was pleased to see that they were still dry, as was her leather armor. Once more she felt the Jewel of the Rumare under her glove and smiled faintly. What would she do without that ring?

Wait until next morning for the ferry, she thought as she walked ashore and looked back across the lake. How many miles had that been? she wondered, ten? Enough for her limbs to feel leaden with effort, even with the rest breaks she had taken in the water. Sitting down under a tree near the shore, she shucked off her pack and lay her back against its trunk and sighed.

The grey stone walls of an Imperial Legion fortress loomed before her eyes. Its round keep brooded high in the night sky overhead, and only a lone torch moved slowly along the battlements to reveal the presence of its occupants. That must be Fort Urasek, Teresa imagined, and the sprawl of buildings along the shore between her and it must be the town of the same name. She had seen its lights when she was half-way across the lake, but now the settlement was dark.

Honest people are all tucked in their beds at this hour, Teresa thought as she dug through her belongings for dinner. Only rogues like her were up and about in the middle of the night. She realized that she should have bought more bread and cheese at the inn, as she produced several handfuls of each from her pack. Still, it ought to be enough for her to walk up to Vilverin and back.

After a leisurely dinner, Teresa rose feeling refreshed and set her feet inland. In moments she came to a wide road of stone. The Red Ring Road, she thought as she followed it to her left, bringing her closer to the town and fort. At the edge of the fortress she found it intersected with another pair of roads. One led into the fort and continued down to the lakeshore where the town was. The other went in the opposite direction, heading off deeper inland. A sign post rising up in the moonlight told her that it led to Cheydinhal.

Where the carter had come from, Teresa remembered as she pressed on into the night. Maybe she should try going out that way after Vilverin? She had never been there before. That seemed to be as good a reason as any these days. The entire world was out there waiting for her to see it.

She only wished that Simplicia could be here with her. What would the old woman think of the miles of forest and wide open skies? She would probably be terrified, Teresa realized with a shake of her head. After all, Simplicia had always been the first person to tell her to stay with what you know, and always play it safe.

As the sun dawned on the eastern horizon, Teresa found a place to sleep near the road. Hidden away behind a large stand of brush, no one passing by would see her. Unrolling her bedroll, she stripped off her armor and quickly fell asleep.

* * *

She found herself in the grotto. Her grotto, Teresa realized. The sunlit pool was before her and the shadows clung to the walls behind her. Once more she knew that she was not alone. She did not have to look around this time. Instead she smiled faintly and stretched out her arms to either side. She could feel the coat of black feathers roll down her skin, covering her in their soft embrace.

The ravens are with me, she thought as she gave her wings a mighty flap. Then she was in the air, and flying through the cavern. The sunlight beckoned, and once more she winged her way through the opening in the ceiling and out into the open sky above.

She saw more ravens around her, and flew with them across a wide lake. She laughed as the wind caressed her face, her voice now the guttural croaking of one of the black birds. Her heart beat strong in her chest, and the air was crisp and clear in her lungs. Somehow everything in the world felt right.

They passed over a great island, its hills crowned by a circular city of stone. Flying past it, they eventually came to the far shore of the lake and continued inland. For miles and miles they flew, and by the time that she and the other ravens dipped lower to the ground, it had risen into the foothills of a mountain range.

The winding snake of a stone road came to her eyes, poorly concealed under the carpet of trees below. She saw three riders there. The first was a Redguard woman with milky white hair. Behind her was a young Imperial wearing a priest's cassock. Last in the group was an older man with a shaven head, also wearing a monk's robe.

For some reason she felt drawn to the group of people. Breaking off from the rest of the ravens, she swooped low through the oaks and down to the road underneath. That is when she recognized the Redguard. It was Julian, whom Jauffre had dispatched to Kvatch when she was at Weynon. She could also now see that the monk in the rear was none other than Jauffre himself.

But the man in the center, his face was unknown to her. Yet his eyes, flashing with blue light, those she did recognize. She had seen them before, and when all had been darkest they had given her strength.

"The Emperor!" Teresa gasped, eyes flying open in the afternoon sun. Her heart raced, and she could almost still feel the wind under her body. Looking around herself, she found that she was back on Nirn, an ordinary wood elf once more. Yet laying scattered around her narrow bedroll were nearly half a dozen black feathers…


* * *

It was well after dark by the time Teresa came to Vilverin, her bow in hand and a brace of black feathers now adorning her hair. A ring of shattered white walls rose along the outer edge of the ruin. Within lay more broken stone, remnants of both walls and buildings, rising up a hill in the center of the complex. There a circular colonnade stretched high into the sky overhead, the roof which it had support long since vanished. A greenish-white light blazed within the columns, and from where she stood on the edge of the ruin, Teresa could see a circle of white steps leading up to it.

Screenshot

As she drew nearer, the wood elf realized it was not a fire at all. Rather it was a fountain of light. Yet what created it, she had no idea. Climbing up the hill to the circle of columns, she found herself staring at what seemed like a well of sorts. Rather than leading down into darkness however, its inside was filled with metal flanges that grew from the stone around them. Somehow the light sprang from the metal. Rising high into the air, it shifted and eddied as if it was a gas.

Teresa could feel it then. The power flowing from the well. It was the same energy that she felt deep within her whenever she cast a spell. Magicka. There was no mistaking it. Yet here it was in a veritable fountain, right before her eyes.

Screenshot

Teresa stretched her hand out into the flow of energy. Her skin tingled as the magicka flowed through it. Closing her eyes, Teresa tried to draw it up, just as she drew the power from within her when using a spell. The magicka flowed into her like a river, and Teresa could not keep her eyes from flying open as the power seemed to fill her to overflowing.

Drawing her hand back, she took a deep breath. She could feel the energy coursing through her, just waiting for her to use it. She wondered if this was the kind of power a real magician must feel all the time. It was almost as invigorating as her dream-flights with the ravens.

Energy or not, this place was supposed to be haunted, Teresa remembered. Stepping behind one of the columns to hide herself, she peered out into the ruins around her. Only broken stone greeted her eyes however, and she quietly moved around the colonnade and continued to scan for danger. Eventually she was rewarded with the sight of two small tents, each just barely large enough for one person to sleep under, a few stools, and an old campfire.

Creeping down from the magical well, the wood elf set her feet to good, solid nirn once more and laid an arrow upon the nock of her bow. The only sound that came to her ears was the lapping of waves and the low buzzing of cicadas. Nothing moved in the night before her, and she stepped forward into the campsite.

This might have been the fire she had seen when she exited the prison, the wood elf imagined. It was near the shore, and not hidden behind the stones of the ruin. Yet she could see that the fire had long since gone cold, as there was not even an ember remaining in its dark coals.

That is when she saw the lump of a body sprawled across the grass nearby, and small cloud of flies buzzing around it. Moving over to it, Teresa found that it was a dead Redguard woman, wearing armor made from animal hides. Her skin - which should have been dark - was pale instead, and Teresa could plainly see the dark lines of veins against it. A bow was still gripped tightly in her dead hand, and a great gash had been hacked into her chest, running down at an angle from where her shoulder and neck met.

Another Redguard lay nearby, this one a man with a short, neatly-trimmed beard. A bronze-colored mace lay near his stiff fingers, and his head was neatly split in two. She found that the pouches on both their belts were empty, although several empty potion bottles lay at their feet. A sweet smell came off of both of them, like from a pile rotting fruit. The stench clung to the back of the wood elf's throat like mold, and she had to fight the urge to gag as she stepped away to clearer air.

They were bandits, the wood elf thought, her cautious eyes casting to and fro. But what had killed them? Their weapons were still at hand and armor on their bodies. If other outlaws had done the deed, they would have stripped the corpses, likewise with the Imperial Legion. If it had been animals, would they not have eaten the bodies? A bear or mountain lion would leave claw and bite marks, she thought. The bandits looked more like they had been hacked with a cleaver, or maybe an axe.

"The Daedra did it they say!" she heard the voice of the carter in her memory. A chill ran along the wood elf's spine, and she resisted the urge to whimper in the darkness. Did Daedra loot bodies? she wondered, would they care about mortal coins or weapons? Probably not, she imagined.

She should go, the forester thought. Whatever had happened here, it was none of her business. If there were Daedra around, the last thing on Nirn she wanted to do was meet them.

Yet something about the white stone of the ruin called to her. It was not as strong as the way the forest beckoned her, nor nearly as comforting. Yet it was there the same. She could not explain why, but something about this place almost seemed familiar. Maybe it was just the magicka flowing through her veins from the Ayleid well. Or maybe it was something else. Teresa did not know what it was, but if she had learned anything since meeting the Emperor, it was to not ignore her intuition any more.

With that in mind, she moved from the shadows of the broken walls and continued through the ruins. Just a quarter turn around the circle of the complex, she found that the ground sloped down sharply. More broken arches and scattered flagstones led down that way, nearly to the edge of the lake itself. Looking back to the center of the ruin, Teresa found a square double-door of stone set within a small building that jutted from the base of the hill, underneath the Ayleid well.

Screenshot

She could see a semicircle cut into the surface of each door, set opposite one another so that together they formed a circle. It looked like handles of some sort had been set within the grooves. But they were long gone now. Laying her bow down, Teresa set her fingers in the deep indentations and pulled.

With a grating of stone against stone, the doors slid aside. It was much easier than the forester had expected. As if the doors were not made of stone at all, but something much lighter. Lowering the Night Eye goggles down over her features, Teresa crept onto the stair she found leading down into the bowels of Nirn.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Jul 30 2020, 01:38 AM