Loved the description of the cohort on the road. Yes, the mules, they packed everything they needed after a day of fighting as well as for the fighting itself!

Hmm, so Julian was a centurion in the Legio Sixth? The Ironclads? Does that mean they call her Old Ironsides?

Very nice! The description of the army was great. I could really see it as if I was there.

I noticed the "h" ran away for the approaching soldiers:

"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."

Cannot think of a better description of what TES world(s) allow the player to do- or of Teresa's newly-expanded horizons.

The raven vision was wonderful, as was the description of the Ayleid well. And now, into Vilverin!

"The wood might give way under feet, she thought as she crept along, or creak under her weight and betray her presence."

Love the situational awareness of an experienced (or becoming so) forester.

"This close it was easy, so long as she did not get killed."

Words to remember when we start to get over-confident. Senior Trooper Carbo would approve.

Have to stop now, but I will try to catch up in the next day or two.

Typos-

From the raven dream in 7b- "The first was a Redguard woman with milky white hair. Behind him was..."

Despite the name, I do not believe Julian is a gender-bender....

From near the end of 7c- "Vilverin itself went on before her, and once more Teresa was amazed at the size of the place as she continued down level after level, though both small rooms and wide chambers."

Whoever has been on a murderous rampage through the ruin has apparently also scarpered with your "R" from "through."

As to giving Athynae a "guest-appearance," it is interesting that you should mention that.... I have actually considered explaining her "disappearance" from Blood on the Moon by having her go to the mainland in a attempt to get the (supposed) marriage contract overruled. And who better to overrule the Duke than- the Emperor! Unfortunately, a series of mis-adventures finds Athynae in the Imperial Prison (shades of her mother!) and then....

Good update. I loved the description of the legion, the heavy use of onomatopoeia really brough the scene to life. I liked the mirroring between the footsoldiers 'tromping' and the cavalry 'clomping'. Great description.

and the feet of an entire murder of crows were etched into the corners of this dark eyes -- and that is a wonderful metaphor.

Caught up again. The fight in Vilverin was rivetting. I agree with you, that it was your best 'fight' scene ever. I loved that it did not go predictably at all.

I like that the Main Quest is happening around Teresa. She is a minor character on the perifery and this suits her so very well. Stringy or scrawny wood elves just don't seem like save-the-world types, do we? Let's leave that to the sturdier adventurers.

Wonderfully done!

haute ecole rider: Thank you h.e.r. Once more Peter Connolly was my co-pilot as I wrote that. I spent a while looking for a good slang term for the legionaries to use for themselves. In the end I turned to history, and went with Marius' Mules. Although in this case there is obviously no Marius...

Old Ironsides was a wooden ship, so that would not work at all. I am thinking The Merrimack! Or perhaps The Monitor? If you have any other questions about Julian, feel free to ask me!


Remko: Thank you. I think of that scene as "The Army of Mother-******* Light on the march, *****!" It was a lot of fun to write.

And thank you for wrangling up my escaped consonant. Obviously those marching soldiers frightened it off...


treydog: Thank you dog. Teresa is learning, but that bit of awareness mainly goes to her life as a street urchin, and the arts of stealth that she has learned to remain unseen by both Imperial Watch and thugs alike.

Thank you for wresting with my typos, fixed.


Olen: Thank you. A murder of crows has always been one of my favorite names for a group of animals, along with a conspiracy of ravens.

I had to look up onomatopoeia! As much as I would like to take credit for brilliance, I am afraid it mainly just worked out how it did by accident. Although it is true that I have always liked using the word "clomping" to describe the sound of horses.


Acadian: Thank you paladin. I wanted show in that fight scene that Teresa did not win by pure luck alone, and that in fact chance was as often against her as it was with her.

I am hoping that having Teresa on the sidelines while the main quest plays out will be a nice change from many other Fs that follow the main storyline of Oblivion, and allow us to see it from a different perspective.



* * *

Chapter 8b - The Witch of Lake Trasimene


Teresa did not stop to rest until she reached the top of the ridge. She had expected the ground to slope downward again. But it seemed to go on to the east without rising or falling. At least for as far as she could see. The land did continue to rise to the north however, leading up to a range of mountains far in the distance. It was like standing upon one toe from those lofty peaks.

By then the sun was at its zenith, and Teresa's limbs felt like lead weights. Dropping her sack of loot and backpack, she sat down in the dirt and looked back the way she had come. She could not believe how far she could see. The Heartlands stretched out for miles and miles before her eyes.

Far below and many miles away, the Red Ring Road snaked by from left to right. Beyond that spread the great blue expanse of Lake Rumare. It was bordered by the line of mountains to her right, but it went on forever directly in front of her. On her left she could make out the hazy form of land in the distance. Rising up from the far shore, Teresa imagined she could see a slender, white spire, just barely visible against the line of the horizon. White Gold Tower, Teresa thought, there had never been a time in her life that its graceful white stones had not been there, rising up to kiss the sky overhead.

Digging through her pack, Teresa produced what remained of her provisions. Not much, she thought as she took a bite of the stale bread and tucked it back away. Her stomach growled, wanting more. But she would be out completely soon, unless she found a settlement. She really should have bought more in Sideways, or taken some from Vilverin after all.

Looking around at the plants that surrounded her, the wood elf wondered which ones were safe to eat, and which were poison? She had no idea. If she was going to keep up this foresting thing, she was going to have to learn, she resolved. Either that or she might starve.

Making camp there for the day, Teresa lay down in the shade of a pine tree. She found her armor disintegrating as she stripped it from her frame. The cuirass was a complete ruin, thanks to the necromancer's lightning bolts. So was the leather that covered her arms and upper legs. Only her gloves and boots were untouched. The thick linen tunic she wore beneath was not in very good shape either, its formerly blue cloth now blackened and crisped.

As the forester had feared, her sleep was tortured by images of skeletons, zombies and mutilated bodies. She was thankful when she woke at sunset, and even though she still felt tired, she was quick to pack up her things and continue east.

Besides the food, she should have taken the armor from one of the bandits, Teresa realized as she trudged on, wearing nothing but her blackened tunic and remaining pieces of good leather. Yet the idea of wearing something that had just been on a corpse made her skin crawl. Especially given the flies and other insects that she had seen on them.

She found herself in a thick forest of oak and pine, and had to use her Night Eye goggles in order to see in the gloom beneath their closely-packed branches. At least she found several different types of mushrooms that she knew had alchemical properties on the way. In no time at all they joined the other ingredients in her ever-growing bag.

The ground began to slope upward once more, and Teresa cursed the bag of loot hanging over her back. It was only crystals, money, books, and a few other odds and ends, she thought, the things that were not heavy. Yet after an entire night of trudging, it felt like she was carrying a bag full of stones. All of the armor and weapons of the bandits were still piled up back in Vilverin, she thought, waiting for her to come back for them. How on Nirn was she going to lug all of that to a city, if even this much was so heavy?

She was going to have to learn a Feather spell, the forester thought, or to make potions of it. Either that or buy a mule! She had heard some thieves carried enchanted bags for carrying loot. Maybe she could talk to Methredhel and get one?

She lay down to sleep as the sun rose to start another day. Once more her dreams were tortured by monsters, and the wood elf was glad to wake in the fading light before trudging on with her loot in hand.

It was long after dark when the heavy forest thinned out, revealing an open hilltop before her. Pushing the Night Eye goggles up on her forehead, Teresa looked upon it with her own eyes. She saw a small city of white stone sprawling out from the rise. A ring of walls stood at the base of the hill, with tall, round towers regularly-spaced along its length. Emerald and ivory banners flew from the battlements and spires above, while elves in snow white armor walked beneath them.

A random jumble of buildings rose up the slopes of the hill behind the fortifications. All of white stone, they stretched high into the sky, with gently curved roofs whose tiles fairly glowed in the moonlight. A wide street ran straight from the main gate in front of her to the top of the hill. There she saw a great palace of white stone. Crowning it was a massive statue of an armored elf being lifted into the air by a mighty eagle.

Teresa blinked. Before her stood nothing but broken and toppled stones. There were no walls, and only a scattering of smashed flagstones revealed the wide thoroughfare that she had thought she had seen rising to the crest of the hill. Atop it she did see the remnants of a once-great structure, now only tumbled down blocks of stone. Yet the statue of the elf and eagle did stand at the crown of the ruin, arms and wings broken off and draped in ivy and moss.

What on Nirn was that? Teresa wondered. Had she simply imagined it all?

Just as with Vilverin, she felt a strange desire to set her feet upon the white stones of the ancient road and climb to the remnants of the former palace. This time however, the wood elf's better judgment won out over her curiosity. The last time she had gone into a place like that it had nearly killed her, she thought. Besides, she had still not carted off all the loot from the previous ruin. It would still be here when she was done with that. She could come back afterward to explore it.

With that in mind, the wood elf faded back into the pines and skirted the Ayleid site. If there were more necromancers in there, or worse, she did not want them seeing her. "Better safe than sorry," Simplicia had always told her. Words Teresa had lived by all of her life, until meeting the Emperor at least.

The forester came upon a river beyond the ruin, flowing down from the higher ground in the north and vanishing into the night to the south. It was wide, but not deep, so Teresa had little difficulty crossing. Soon afterward she found another, and wondered if the two might be connected somewhere.

Crossing it as well, she continued on through the night. Even though she could not see them through the screen of trees, she could still hear the waters of the rivers nearby. By the time the sun was rising in the east, she found the ground had begun to slope downward. It was well over the horizon when she broke from the trees and found herself standing upon a jumble of massive rocks.

The bowl of a wide valley spread out beneath her feet, the slopes of its walls blanketed in trees. A waterfall spilled down a series of rocky cliffs to her right, its roar now filling her ears. A second fall cut through the forest beyond that, and their waters combined to form a vast lake in the floor of the valley below.

It stretched on for miles, and it looked like a vast blue potato from where she stood. It narrowed into a river to the south, and she could see its waters went on for perhaps only a mile before plunging to create another waterfall. A second lake formed beneath that, shaped more like a gigantic pear. At its wide southern end the wood elf thought she could make out a road, and tiny clumps that might be settlements spaced out along it.

Teresa eased her bags from her shoulder and sat at the edge of the rocks. She allowed a faint smile to escape her lips as she took in the view. The sun embraced her pale cheeks as her eyes traced the outlines of the lakes, and the roar of the nearby waterfalls blocked out every other sound.

It was so beautiful, she found herself thinking, so wide open, boundless, and filled with green life. In the city she was lucky to see fifty feet before her view was blocked by the grey stone of a wall or insula. Yet here in the mountains she could see for miles upon miles. Farther than she could walk in a day. A world with no beginning or end. There was no place she could not go, nothing she could not see.

Lovely description of the land, it really came alive for me and evoked memories of actual places which was brilliant.


I liked this, funny but effective.

The Alyeid ruin coming to life was intreguing... Makes me wonder...

Not sure if this is a (minor) nit or deliberate:
and wondered if it might be a connected to the first somewhere upstream. -- being the stickler for accuricy I am I feel obliged to point out that it's exceptionally rare for a river course to split, of course Teresa probably wouldn't know this... and honestly it's hardly anything.

Anyway great description, I can't wait to see Chedinhall.

Beautiful description of the land. I especially loved the mirage of the Ayleid ruin at the top of the ridge between Lake Rumare and Cheydinhal (yes, I believe I know the one you speak of - impressive place).

A nit or two: Did you mean a connection? or might be connected to? One other thing, as Olen said, it is rare for watercourses to split - it is more common for them to join, so the connection would be downstream rather than upstream.

Beautiful walk through the forest!

Now this was my sort of chapter. Vivid descriptions, awesome use of imagination, that all really paints the scenery and brings it all to life. Yippeee!!

The Ayleid ruin coming to life was one of your best yet (and that is saying something!). I felt a chill up the spine when it reverted back to its current broken state. That part was epic.

Most of the Oblivion game is exactly this, ferns and trees and lakes and flowers and walking. The turning cycle of the land and world around you. The way you wrote it was beyond awesome!!


Bobg's dragon wouldn't go astray either.

Why am I so lucky? Many of the writers I love are rewriting their already brilliant prose, and doing it so well that they now shine with a light that hurts my eyes...


... carry on my Rose!

A rose may be described by any other prose
But this prose is not like any other - it goes
deeper, sweeter, neater and thus it shows
That prose, in any other Rose, would not smell as sweet.

Okay, I have finally caught back up with the TF. Forgive the length of this post but I thought I would give you my comments on each chapter as I read it.

Chapter 7c – Vilverin

I agree with Winter Wolf in that this chapter must have been a difficult write. It isn’t easy to carry a chapter of this size without dialogue or any real character interaction (shooting zombies and skeletons doesn’t really count). I thought you did a good job of keeping it interesting without bogging us down with too much description.

Nits:

Pretty much already addressed, but I did notice this:

Here you have an awkward repetition.

And not really a nit per say, but it seemed odd that given the speed in which she fired the first two arrows at that initial zombie she encountered that it would take her ‘backtracking through several chambers in the process’ of firing off two more.

Chapter 7d – Vilverin

One of the things I like best about the whole expedition into Vilverin is the subtle shift in Teresa’s emotional state. She goes from curiosity at the size and majesty of the ruin, to dread that the fate that met so many inside those murky depths might be one that she is destined to share, and finally to the resolute determination that she will avenge the lives of so many whom she didn’t even know. Those who under different circumstances she would actually be using her bow against. You present each of these states in an organic and believable way that grows naturally from the setting, and by the end of the chapter we want to see Teresa exact vengeance on behalf of a bunch of bandits. That in the end she doesn’t get to is disappointing, but it’s nice to read that Jalbert will be making a return.

Chapter 7e – Vilverin

After her odyssey through Vilverin I really loved this:


De Vermis Mysteriis sounded familiar, though I have never read Bloch’s take on Lovecraft’s creation (that is, if Cthulhu is truly Lovecrafts). Mysteries of the Worm is a perfect title for a tome on necromancy. If memory serves, wasn’t there an old movie in which Christopher Lee (or someone comparable like Vincent Price) plays a vampire called Count Alucard (which is Dracula backwards)?

And borrowing from the Marquis De Sade is an especially nice touch. Especially when, upon first reading the sentence, I thought that The Misfortunes of Virtue was the Imperial Guidebook!

Chapter 8a – The Witch of Lake Trasimene

I am with Acadian on this. It’s nice to follow a character on the periphery of the main quest hearing of events from the rumor mill. I imagine that as time goes on the telling of those events will become more and more exaggerated (as rumors tend to do), but Teresa will have her knowledge of the real people involved to draw upon.

It is also nice to see the Elder Council taking action in the wake of what must be the single greatest crisis that Tamriel has faced since the rise of the Camoran Usurper. One thing (of many) that always bothered me in the game was the lack of activity from the Elder Council with Oblivion Gates opening all around them.

Chapter 8b – The Witch of Lake Trasimene

Ditto for me on the description. Given all that she has been through in the past few chapters, it seems only natural that things might start taking on a dreamlike quality to Teresa’s exhausted eyes. That’s why I didn’t even blink when the Ayleid ruin started to come to life.

On a side note: You decided to go with Lake Trasimene, eh? I think that’s a great idea! Trasimene has a distinctly Elder Scrolls feel to it, and selfishly I’ve always been fascinated by Hannibal. Who knows how history might now be different if the Carthiginians had only given him the support he needed.

Olen: Thank you. I was inspired to use the potato by Carl Sagan, who along with other astronomers has described the moon Phobos as a looking like a lumpy potato. It seemed like exactly the kind of comparison that would come to Teresa's mind as well.

And thank you for the nits. Fixed.


haute ecole rider: Thank you h.e.r. That ruin is Belda. I have been wrestling with a way for Teresa to know the names of the ruins she finds. One thought is that the name might be at the main door, in same way that we put city names on signs at the limits. Of course it would be written in Ayleidic, which would not help her much...


Winter Wolf: Thank you wolf. I am using this opportunity to rework things to go back and lay in some extra groundwork for future events. In this case with Teresa and the Ayleid ruins, which we will come to fruition in the very distant future.


D.Foxy: Would you like me to send you some of those goggles people wore during the A-Bomb tests to make reading easier...


Destri Melarg: Yaay! My favorite trumpet-playing Redguard historian is back.

I did work very hard on Vilverin, both to create a steadily building mood of tension and horror, but also to make sure Teresa's motivations remained believable. As you noted, she began with simple curiosity (and perhaps some deeper pull which she cannot explain), and was slowly drawn in further and further by the mystery. That she had become the avenger of a group of people who would have gladly killed her was something I found ironic as well. Actually, that was one reason I made an effort to really work on the evidence of Jalbert's horrors. I wanted it to be plain that while the bandits were obviously bad people, they were must minor leaguers compared to him.

The movie you are thinking of is Son of Dracula, starring Lon Chaney. I am more used to Alucard from the anime series Hellsing myself. In the game the letter was written to Captain Aluc Cardius. I decided to be simple and just go straight to the homage.

Cthulhu himself was Lovecrafts, he wrote The Call of Cthulhu, in which everyone's tentacle-faced best friend makes his first appearance in literature. The entire mythos that has been created is another story however. He (Lovecraft) is more the grandfather of it all. It is amazing how many writers have lent their hand to the sub-genre of horror which it comprises.

As usual, I hate coming up with original names. So with the lakes I went to history to provide me some, and at the same time add me some local flavor as well (as will be seen in the next few chapters, when Teresa learns the history of the lakes). Yes, Hannibal is involved. Well, an E.S. version of him at least.

Was Camoran the Usurper when James Cameron tried to take over Hollywood and mandated that every movie must have at least one explosion every five minutes?


All: Next Teresa meets the person whom this chapter is named after, and begins to learn something about her mysterious relationship with ravens.

Also Tsume is not an original name. Can anyone guess where I got it from?


* * *

Chapter 8c - The Witch of Lake Trasimene

The smell of wood smoke came to the Bosmer's nose. Looking down, she found a small cottage. It sat in a clearing at the edge of the first lake, not far from where the nearest waterfall emptied its contents into the wide, blue waters. She could see a garden behind the building, filled with vegetables of all varieties.

Her stomach grumbled at the sight. She had eaten the last of her bread during the night. The promise of another meal was all the incentive the wood elf needed to rise to her feet and gather her things. Whoever lived there would have food, she thought, and she had plenty of septims to pay for it.

She found a pathway leading down not far from the rocks upon which she stood. Following it down the slope of the valley, she imagined that she must be near the cottage when she heard a low growl in the trees nearby.

Stopping instantly, the forester fixed the symbol for her Command Animal power in her mind. Looking about herself, she found the author of the sound easing from the brush to her left. It was a wolf, covered in grey fur that lightened to a softer white under his chest. A long scar ran diagonally across his breastbone, quite old from the look of it. His lips curled up from his clenched jaws, exposing long fangs as he voiced his displeasure at Teresa.

"Hey there fella, it's alright, I'm not going to hurt you," the wood elf said in a soothing tone. "Are you by yourself, or do you have any friends around?" Her eyes moved to and fro. Usually wolves traveled in packs, she knew. She had not seen one alone since her first time in the forest, over a month ago.

The wolf continued to snarl, and slowly approached Teresa. She knelt down on her haunches and looked him in the eye. She did not see or hear any other animals, so she imagined that he must be alone. She hoped so, because her bow stave was unstrung and on her back, and her power only worked on one animal at a time. Not that wolves had ever given her any real trouble in the past…

"I'm Teresa," she continued in the same soft voice. "Now what is your name?"

The wolf stopped his growling, and tilted his head to one side. For a moment the Bosmer wondered if he could understand her. He wagged his tail and opened his mouth to pant for a moment. Leaning back his head, he let out a short howl. A moment later he was trotting up to Teresa and sniffing her hands.

The forester's heart doubled its pace, but she kept still and let the predator get a good whiff of her. She had not even used her Command Animal and he was acting friendly! Careful lest the wolf's mood suddenly change, she slowly took off her gauntlets and stroked her bare fingers through the white fur under his muzzle. The next thing she knew he was licking her cheeks, and Teresa could not stifle a faint smile as she sat on the dirt and petted the wolf.

Screenshot

"Well now, it seems Tsume likes you. That's unusual." Teresa nearly jumped at the woman's voice. Looking up, she found a wood elf standing on the path ahead. She wore a brown bodice edged in green over a white chemise, while a tan skirt covered her legs. Her grey eyes flashed in the morning light, and her hair was a bright shade of auburn. If she had been an Imperial Teresa would have put her age around twenty. Yet her eyes were heavy with years, and Teresa wondered if she might be at least a century in age.

The wolf leapt to his feet and trotted over to the newcomer with a wag in his tail. Walking around her legs and rubbing his shoulder against her skirts, he sat beside the older Bosmer, who let one hand drop to stroke the fur on top of his head.

"Um hello, I'm Teresa." The forester rose to her feet, pulling the gauntlets back on her hands. Then she motioned to the wolf at the other woman's feet. "Is he yours? He's certainly very friendly."

"Tsume? He would sooner eat most people he meets. You must be special indeed." The other wood elf seemed to be appraising Teresa, who had to fight to keep from blushing at the last sentence. "I am Morcant, and I don't own him. Tsume keeps me company is all, when he chooses to."

"So that must be your house I saw from up there." Teresa motioned with one hand to the ridge rising up behind her. "If you have some extra bread, I would be glad to buy it. I have gold."

The auburn-haired woman chuckled for a moment. "I can do better than bread," she murmured. Then she waved Teresa forward and turned back down the path, the wolf walking by her side. Teresa lifted her gear and scampered down the trail behind them. Soon she found herself standing before the same cottage she had seen from above. With carefully-fitted stone walls and a thatch roof, it looked both solid and cozy, with the lake to one side, forest to the other, and garden behind it.

Screenshot

"You certainly picked a beautiful place to stay." The forester breathed as she took in the scene. "I think I could live in a place like this forever."

"That's funny, most people say I'm crazy for living out here by myself." The other woman stepped through the door and into her home. Teresa followed, and found herself in a comfortable abode. Large open windows let in plenty of light and a cool breeze off the lake. The wooden floor was covered in thick carpets, and the walls were hung with tapestries depicting wild animals or intricate knot-work patterns. A pair of rocking chairs sat near a wide hearth built into the far wall, and an iron pot bubbled over its flames. An oven sat next to it, along with a long table. A simple rattan bed was stretched out along the wall to the other side of the hearth, along with a dressing table and wardrobe.

"I think it's wonderful," Teresa said honestly, taking in the small, yet very inviting home around her.

The smell of cinnamon filled Teresa's nostrils. The older wood elf stepped to the table and lifted a plate of rolls laden with white frosting and dusted with darker cinnamon. The forester could see steam rising from them as Morcant held the plate up and motioned for her to try one. Taking it in her hand, Teresa found the roll was sticky in her fingers, yet tasted exquisite as she took her first bite.

"I just took them out of the oven," Morcant said, taking a bite from one herself. "I have a pot of stew on as well. You are welcome to some once it is done."

"Oh that is alright, just the rolls are fine," Teresa said, eyeing the pot in the fireplace. "I don't eat meat anyway."

"I know," the other woman said with a smile, stepping over to the wide iron pot and stirring it with a ladle. "It's all vegetables from my garden, and those I trade with the farmers down by the Blue Road for. Rice, carrots, leeks, red potatoes, onion, and celery. With some flour to thicken the broth, and basil and rosemary for extra flavor."

"You know I don't eat meat?" Teresa said, stepping closer and looking down into the pot herself. "There is a lot of stew there for only one person."

"But it's not for one person is it?" the other woman said as she stepped to a cupboard and began making tea. "I woke up this morning and found a raven sitting in the windowsill, staring right at me. He told me you were coming."

Teresa remembered the raven that had sat down on the dock next to her at Sideways. How she had just known that Martin was safe when it looked at her. Then she recalled all the other times since meeting the Emperor that the ravens and crows had guided her. Leading her to Chorrol, to Weye, and even Vilverin.

"So they talk to you too!" Teresa gasped, her eyes widening in spite of herself.

"They all talk to me dear," the older woman smiled as she handed Teresa a cup of tea. She sat in one of the rocking chairs, and at her gesture Teresa sat in the other. Tsume walked over and lay down at her feet, tucking his head between his forelegs and closing his eyes in contentment. "Raven, Bear, Wolf, Stag, Serpent, Turtle, and all the rest. I'm a Witch after all."

"You're a Witch!" Teresa almost spat the tea from her lips. The wolf, her living alone in the wilderness, now it all made sense to the young wood elf. "But you-"

"But I what?" Morcant smiled over the rim of her cup. Teresa had the distinct impression that the other woman found her discomfort terribly amusing.

"I… I don't know." Teresa muttered. "I guess you just don't look much like a Witch is all."

"What is a Witch supposed to look like?" the other woman asked coyly.

"I… I'm not sure really." the forester replied honestly. "I don't know what a Witch really is, to be truthful. I just hear about them all the time in the bard's tales, and they are usually trouble."

"I'll tell you a secret Teresa," the other woman leaned closer, and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I don't know what a Witch really is either, but everyone calls me that. I guess because I'm not part of the Mages Guild, and would rather be around animals than people. Or maybe it's because I listen to the bones of the world when they speak, and learn my magic from them rather than those pompous hypocrites in the Arcane University."

Teresa felt herself start to relax. So much of that sounded just like herself. Well, at least the part about liking animals. "The bones of the world?" she found herself asking as she took another sip of tea. "Are those gods, like the Nine?"

"Yes, in a way," the other woman explained, then pointed to the black feathers in Teresa's hair. "You should know already, you are obviously on very good terms with some of them."

"You mean the ravens?" the young wood elf wondered aloud, the fingers of one hand running over the feathers adorning her crimson tresses. "Ever since I first stepped in the forest, they have been with me somehow."

"Not the ravens," the other woman corrected. "Raven. He is your spirit-guide. One of them at least. Tell me, do you have dreams about him? Do you ever fly in them? Does he show you things? Do ravens in the waking world ever seem to guide you places? Or warn you about things?"

"Nocturnal yes!" Teresa practically wanted to leap from her seat and hug the other woman. She was not crazy after all, she thought, or imagining things. It was all real! "How come I have never heard about any of this before? No one ever talks about these, what did you call them, spirit-guides?"

"You must have lived with Imperials all your life," the other woman said dryly. "Most round-ears are afraid of everything except the Nine. Bring up the Nirn Spirits, or Daedra, and they would like to stone you. After what the Ayleids did to them, it is no surprise I suppose…"

Excellent as ever, a refreshing view on what a witch would be and most likely more historically accurite. There's a heavy spiritual edge to this story which would fit well with with some more modern interpritations of witchcraft. It adds a good amount of depth and substance to the story as well as driving it, I want to know more about Teresa's abilities and how this 'not in game' magic works. It makes sense that there'd be more than just wizardry type magic.

So yes great in developing your version of the world and I'm fascinated to find out more about Morcant (and see more of Teresa) and see where this goes.


I loved that line.

I finally caught up with this. And I must say, you are very talented!

Tsume.. Tsu-me... つめ。。 Oh I don't know, in anime perhaps? Because I can only see or hear that name in Japanese. One of my colleague's, a girl of course, nick-name is actually Tsume, so... Anime?

Anyway, this is good stuff and I want to see more. Intrigued...

I sense a real opening up of your personality within this chapter. The beautiful description of witchcraft and the surroundings that flows from was a joy to read. It must give you a tremendous amount of satisfaction to be able to incorprate your love into the story, and rightfully so, the world that you describe sits wonderfully well within the Elder Scrolls. Bravo !!

How awesome to see Teresa's love of wildlife come through here. The way you wrote Tsume was so lovely.

I really like the dream sequences that appear within your writing now. Was this partly inspired by the fun you had with 'Through a Nightmare, Darkly' quest in Bravil?

More, more.

*sings*

If you knew Tsume...like I knew Tsu-u-u-me...

:wink:

I never thought D.Foxy could sing! Anyway about the Tsume topic.. I found it in site and did NOT like what I saw. Broadcasting that stuff is hazardous to Yourself, lol!

wonderful chapter about meeting the so-called witch.

I have often wondered how many independent women living alone through the ages have been called witches because they are not married, do not depend on a man, support themselves, and above all, think for themselves. When a person chooses to live outside of society's norms, such a person often becomes ostracized, sadly enough.

This makes me want to know more, especially after the last line:

The history buff in me wants to hear more!

ohh so many chapters to read! I must say your description of Vilverine and the necromancer was....strong! Very vivid indeed, not pleasant but very very thrilling! brrrrr

As I continued through the chapters I found things being a bit more pleasant, the meeting with the so called witch was brilliant...humorous.....

Like this:


Made me smile....

I really appreciate this story and Teresa has become a friend sort of....whom I like to follow through the beautiful landscape (as you describe it)

Thank you for posting here!

I believe so; it went right along with the ‘Michael Bay Moment’ when everyone spontaneously runs in slow motion every ten minutes!

Sorry for the horrible spelling of Camoran, I can only plead that I have recently seen Avatar for the first time and I am still cursing James Cameron for the two hours and forty-two minutes that he usurped from my life.

On to the TF:

My first thought upon reading this chapter is that if one were to live by oneself out in the middle of nowhere it would be nice for one to have a wolf that occasionally chooses to keep one company. Such a wolf would be ideal for keeping other predators and any undesirable people away. With Tsume's blessing I happily followed Teresa into Morcant’s home and contentedly sampled the cinnamon rolls.

Then Morcant started talking about the ravens.

I don’t know why, but for the next few paragraphs all I could think about was the fact that the boiling pot of vegetables might have been left there waiting for some stringy wood elf meat (Bosmer are notorious for cannibalism, after all). Thankfully it seems that I couldn’t be further from the truth. Dare I say that Teresa has found a mentor?

Olen: Thank you Olen. It is not just Witchcraft I am using as a basis though, but Core-Shamanism in general. My goal here is to develop Teresa into a similar spiritual mindset as you might find in a Native American, Inuit, or Zulu, Native Australian, etc... person.

The line about not knowing what a Witch really is was actually a dig I could not resist taking against Bethesda, who cannot decide what a Witch is in their games, but love to throw the word around. Daggerfall has lots of Witch covens, and they seem to be people who summon and worship Daedra in that game. The Western Reach of High Rock is said to be inhabited by Witchmen because of their magical abilities. Skyrim's Wtiches seem to be people who take men's clothing. In Bloodmoon they have Witches who do not seem to summon Daedra, but are instead there to cure you of lycanthropy. In Oblivion one cures you of vampirism. In those games Daedra summoners and worshipers are not called Witches, otherwise Mankar Camoran and the entire Mythic Dawn would be Witches. Same with all those people camped out at the Daedric shrines. For that matter, the Nerevarine too, being that he/she is essentially an agent of Azura.


ureniashtram: Thank you uren. You are on the right track about Tsume. He is one of the main characters from the anime Wolf's Rain. I am not sure what you are referring to that was so horrible in your searches though. When I googled the name I get a bunch of Wolf's Rain references. Unless you mean the slash fiction, one of those side-effects of having a lot of straight female fans...


Winter Wolf: Thank you Wolf. I have not really gone deeply into the spirituality stuff yet. I have tried to make sure it fits snugly into the ES universe. Hopefully it will fill a gap that was long left empty.

Except for the one where Teresa sees Martin and the others, the dream sequences were entirely taken from my own personal experiences.


D.Foxy: I take it that you know Tsume from the slash...


haute ecole rider: Do not forget women who have sex with whomever they want, and even more shockingly, refuse to have sex with those they do not want.

The history buff in you prompted me to go back and do some rewriting of the next part of the chapter. Otherwise I was just going to gloss over all of that. So once again people's comments do directly influence what I write.


minque: Thank you minque. Teresa is meant to be one of those characters who slowly grows on you, and (hopefully) draws you in as she slowly discovers the world, and her own hidden strengths.


Destri Melarg: You had me laughing with the part about the stew! Thankfully for Teresa, the whole cannibalism thing is something I am not using, at least not for the vast majority of Bosmer. You can indeed dare to say that she has found a mentor instead.

btw. keep your eyes peeled for your appearance in the TF below!


All: This one will run a bit long. Blame h.e.r. for her history lesson!

* * *

Chapter 8d - The Witch of Lake Trasimene


"You mean the whole slavery thing?" Teresa said with a furrowed brow, "but that was a long time ago."

"Not just slavery," the Witch said after taking another sip of tea. "The Ayleids sacrificed them to the Daedric Princes, in return for Daedric soldiers to serve in their armies. If that were not bad enough, they also used human souls to create their great enchantments, then animated the bodies to serve them even in death. All of those great cities of theirs are built upon the bones and devoured souls of millions of humans, Khajiit, and Argonians."

"The Ayleids used their souls?" Teresa asked, trying not to remember what she had seen in the ruin.

"Yes, there is a great deal of magical energy bound up within our souls. The very divinity within us." Morcant said with a sour expression on her face. "That energy can be taken if the soul is destroyed. Death of the body is natural, allowing the spirit to return to the Otherworld and prepare for rebirth. Yet there is no afterlife, no rebirth, nothing, after that."

"That's monstrous!" Teresa blurted out, nearly spitting out her tea.

"Yes, it is." Morcant stared down at her own cup before raising her eyes back to Teresa's. "Because of that, in the end even Nirn itself wanted them dead."

The two of them sat in silence for long moments. What would it be like, to have your soul taken and destroyed? she wondered. How could someone do that to another?

"So did the Ayleids have spirit-guides too then?" she asked. "If they did, now could they do those things?"

"They did, at least at first," Morcant sighed. "But they turned away long before the end. At one time all of our race followed not only what are now called the Nine Divines, but all the Nirn Spirits. The Dunmer stopped when they went to Morrowind. Then the Altmer when they got so self-important that mere spirits of the land, sea, and sky were beneath them. Only we Bosmer still keep the Old Ways, and honor those beings that sacrificed their all to create our world."

"You make it sound like they died?" Teresa said, finishing her tea and looking across the room at the cinnamon rolls on the table. Following her eyes, the Witch rose to her feet and brought the plate over so that Teresa could lift another to her lips.

"They did, in a manner of speaking," Morcant explained. "When Lorkhan persuaded the other gods to create our world, he did not tell them how much it would cost them. Many gave every last bit of their energy, and ceased to be. At least in the way they once were. Instead they literally became this world. The trees, the rocks, the mountains, everything... The wood in the chair you are sitting in, even the air you breathe, is part of those divine spirits. As are you and I."

"But that would make us all gods!" Teresa mumbled through a mouthful of cinnamon.

"Yes, we are all divine, as is the world we live in." Morcant sat back down in the chair across from Teresa. "Now you see why they call me a Witch…"

Teresa nodded. She imagined most Imperials would not like hearing that one bit. All they ever did was go on about how high and mighty the Nine Divines were. Anyone who didn't bow and scrape to them was a heretic in their eyes.

"So what about spirit-guides, like Raven?" she asked. "Are they these spirits, that became the bones of the world then?"

"Now you are catching on," Morcant said. "They are not individual beings anymore. They are the forces of nature. So we cannot physically speak to them as we can the Nine or the Daedric Princes. It is only our Lower Selves that know them, what the Imperials call our unconscious. We know them in dreams - mythic poetry - buried in the divinity that is within us."

Teresa nodded. Now it was all making sense. The strange dreams, the way she had sometimes just known things. Everything, well, almost at least.

"So how come I never met my spirit guide before?" she asked as she licked the last remnant of sticky frosting off her fingers. "It wasn't until a month ago that I started having the dreams, and seeing ravens and crows everywhere."

"Did you ever actually stop and pay attention before?" Morcant asked pointedly. "Or were you too wrapped up your mundane life to notice? It takes two to dance you know."

Teresa felt her cheeks grow warm, and looked down at her empty tea cup. "I guess not," she mumbled. "Sometimes it seems like I was not even alive until a month ago."

"Maybe you were not," Morcant suggested. "We all go through many metaphorical deaths and rebirths as we pass from one phase of life to another, from childhood to adulthood, from student to teacher, and so on. You might find a different spirit-guide coming to you every time you go down a new path. Or you might have the same one all of your life. They may not be the guides that you expected, or wanted, but they are always what you need."

"So tell me about Raven?" Teresa asked. "He leads people places doesn't he, and warns them of danger?"

"Oh yes, you know him well indeed," the other woman said, now rising to her feet and stepping to the hearth. Dipping the ladle into the stew, she lifted it to her lips and took a cautious sip. A smile crested her features, and she swung the pot from the fire and carried it to the table with a pair of thick hand-cloths. Teresa followed, and sat beside the older woman as she spooned out two bowls of the steaming liquid.

"Raven knows the secrets of transformation, of moving from one state to another." The auburn-haired Bosmer explained as she took another sip of the stew. "He is a guide for all those who go through change in their lives, helping them find their way when it seems their entire world has turned upside down."

"Well, that is me alright," Teresa thought out loud as she tried a spoonful of the stew. The stew was hot and tangy, but tasted wonderful as it slid down her throat. "Raven likes the dark too I think."

"Ah yes," the Witch smiled. "You have noticed that. Before the creation of our world, Raven's home was the void, so he travels through the darkness without fear. He is a guide for all who must walk through dark places. As such he carries the souls of the dead from this world to the next, so they can be born anew.

"I guess he doesn't like necromancers much then," Teresa said, remembering the bird that had led her to Vilverin.

"Not at all," the Witch hissed, and for a moment Teresa thought she might spit into her bowl. "Those who corrupt the dead, and enslave their souls, are the enemy to both the living and the dead. They pervert the natural cycle of life and death that sustains our world." The older wood elf stared down at the blackened cloth that covered Teresa's frame, and the forester could see a light dawning in the Witch's eyes. "Is that how your tunic got ruined, a necromancer? I thought you looked strange."

"Yeah," Teresa looked down into her bowl and shuddered in spite of herself. "It was in Vilverin. There was a necromancer, real piece of work. I won't say what he did to the bandits I found there. I don't like to think about it. The fetcher got away too…"

"The bandits?" the other woman asked, one hand falling to take Teresa's arm. "Was one of them a Redguard? A man with a goatee, carrying a Dwemer mace?"

"Ummm, I think so," Teresa remembered the two Redguards he had seen outside of the ruin. As she recalled, the man did have a short beard, and a mace. Had it been Dwemer? It had been dark, but now that she thought about it, it did have that bronze-look to it that all of their artifacts possessed.

"Yes, he was." Teresa answered more confidently now, looking up into the Witch's eyes. Now it was the turn for the other woman's gaze to fall, and her hand fell away. "I'm sorry, did you know him?"

"His name was Destri," she nodded. "He was just here a week ago. He had gotten stonejoint from a rat that bit him. I cured him for that suit of armor there." Teresa followed the other woman's gesture to a pile of leather and hide in the far corner of the room, beyond her bed. "I didn't even need the armor. It's not like I ever wear the stuff. I just liked him."

"I'm sorry," Teresa said quietly, thinking of the Emperor. "I know what it's like to lose someone."

"Well, maybe I'll meet him again in the next lifetime," Morcant sighed. Rising from the table, she walked across the room to where the armor was piled on the floor. Pulling out the cuirass, she held it up and eyed Teresa. "I think it will probably fit you. It was made for Bosmer women after all. What do you think?"

The forester suppressed a faint smile as she put down her spoon and stood up. The last thing she wanted was to look happy when the other woman's friend was dead, even if he was a bandit. Walking across the room, she found that the light brown leather did seem about her size. "It should fit," she breathed. Looking between the ample space in the upper half of the garment, then back down at her own chest, she went on, "it might even be a little roomy. Will you trade me for it? I have gold."

"Gold is not something I really have a need for," the other woman frowned, then looked at the sack of loot Teresa had deposited near the door. "What else do you have in that bag of yours."

"I have some magic crystals you might like," the young wood elf offered as she walked back to the sack and knelt down beside it. Untying the cord that squeezed off its lip, she began to pull out the loot she had found in the Ayleid ruin. Pain lanced through her fingers, and she yanked her hand back with a yelp. A shard of broken glass fell away from her bleeding flesh, and Teresa cursed even as she focused on the symbol of her healing spell.

"I can help with tha-" the Witch offered, stepping to the young woman's side. But the forester waved her off with her good hand. Calling up the magicka within her, she loosed it into the symbol of her spell. A moment later a white light fell around her body, leaving her skin whole once more behind it.

"I see you know a few tricks after all young one," Morcant said with hint of respect.

"Just a little, I'm not a real magician or anything." Teresa replied with a frown, now looking carefully into the sack. She found that the alembic and retort she had taken from Vilverin were both broken, and bits of shattered glass from each were strewn about the inside of the canvas bag. Picking the pieces out carefully and setting them aside, she glanced back up at the Witch. "I guess these do not travel well."

"No they don't," the other woman replied, and Teresa could see that she was restraining a laugh. Then her eyes lit up as the forester withdrew the one crystal that was long and slender at both ends, with the metal lattice around its center. "You have a varla stone!"

"Is that what it's called?" Teresa asked, looking down at the odd crystal. "I know it has magicka in it, but I don't know how you can get it out. I can tell you can just pull it right up from those other ones."

"Yes, those are welkynd stones, anyone can use them to replenish their magicka," the Witch said offhandedly. Reaching out her hand, she lifted the other stone and held it up to the light. "But this is something altogether different. A magician can add the energy within a varla stone to their own when they are enchanting. It can double, or even triple the power of the things they can create."

"So is it destroyed after you use it?" Teresa asked, looking up at the older woman. "I heard that magic stones are like that."

"Oh no, those are magicka gems you are thinking of," the Witch replied. "Those are just regular crystals that you can fill with your own magicka. After they are enchanted first of course. They turn to dust when you pull the magicka back out again later, because they cannot take the strain. The same as with a scroll. These Ayleid stones are made from meteoric glass though, the stuff of the stars themselves. They naturally draw power directly from the sky just as we do ourselves, and never wear out. It just takes a few days for them to build up energy after each use."

"That sounds pretty valuable," Teresa said with an appraising eye. "A lot more than just a suit of armor."

"How about magic armor?" the Witch smiled down at the forester. "Give me the varla stone, and I will use it to enchant that suit for you."

Teresa allowed a faint smile to escape her lips. "Throw in another cinnamon roll and you have a deal."

Nice! some things were really familiar. Don't the Sioux or a different Ind- er... Native American tribe believe the Raven to be a spirit guide that leads spirits on to the eternal hunting grounds?

Well done! I loved the history lesson there!

@Remko: the Raven (as well as Coyote and Spider) is a very common motif among many Native American tribes, not just the Plains tribes most people think of when they think of N.A's. In the Southwest, the Spider is honored as the Grandmother who weaves the world from her web-silk. Coyote is the recurring clown, the practical jokester (the Northern European alternative, as I'm sure our lovely Nord minque would tell you, is Loki) among the Plains tribes, the Southwestern tribes, and even down into the natives of Central America. In South America, the jaguar is greatly feared and respected. The Raven (or Crow), being ubiquitous, seems to be common to all of these differing cultures, as I recall.

Back to TF: the food sounds wonderful! I was saddened, however, at the news that Destri did not survive the necromancer. Just from this little exchange, it sounds like he was quite the rapscallion!

In addition to haute's detailed analysis, if you’re interested in knowing more, here is a good place to start.

Now to the TF:

I hope that Morcant is a character that will be hanging around for a while, she is positively fascinating. Her lessons in history and metaphysics carry the ring of truth. Reading her account of Ayleidic magic really brought home how terrible life must have been for the various human, khajiit, and argonian slaves who lived and died under their yoke.

I like your take on the Varla Stone. Making them re-usable is an interesting idea. I hope that the fact that they are re-usable makes them a lot rarer than they are in the game. It wouldn’t do for a character to be walking around with twenty of them.

Like haute I was disappointed that Destri didn’t survive Vilverin. I am honored that you decided to incorporate my name into the TF. When I read that Teresa will now be wearing armor once worn by this bandit (is that a reference to my TES star sign?), well, I am sure you can imagine the not so faint smile that I am having trouble suppressing.

If that is what you did to Destri, I pray you may not do worse to me.

You know, it DOES get better the second time around.

I second Destri's comments on Morcant. She's a great character, eccentric, knowledgeable, and a good baker: everything a mentor/ wise woman should be.


It did puzzle me that they never break in game, so it's another nice addition to add that bit of depth. Having worked with modern day glassware I can confirm it does break and, on occasion, explode.

I wonder what enchentment she will get...

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

Remko: Looks like h.e.r. and Destri covered all the bases concerning Raven. Something that is also of interest is that the valkyrja were said to wear coats of crows feathers, and were sometimes called krakeit, meaning "crows".


haute ecole rider: Thank you h.e.r. I am thinking that the Ayleids were Tamriel's preeminent necromancers, putting it to far more practical use than any other society ever has. They are also a big reason for necromancy still be reviled, and for why many Imperials are suspicious of magic in general.

Destri was not quite blackguard you were thinking of though, as we will be meeting Morcant's actual b/f in a few posts.


Destri Melarg: I hope you are not too saddened by Destri's death. I needed a name, and you know how I hate to come up with those. Even Morcant is just the Welsh spelling of Morgan. I am hoping that by using a name that readers are familiar with, it will help make the death of the bandits seem a bit more tragic, and reinforce that they were people. However, we will see his son in the future (and already have on the other forum). He did not wear Teresa's new armor though, he just made it. Otherwise it would never fit a stringy wood elf like her!

I did my best to take the ES lore about the Earthbones and use it as the foundation for a core-shamanic religion, and at the same time define what a Witch actually is in ES. It seems to fit together rather well. I am thinking that only the Bosmer of Valenwood still follow it, and even there it is probably coming to be seen as something for backwater hicks, due to the influence of both the Imperials and Altmer.

The varla stones are part of the way I am reimagining magic and especially enchanting working. I always thought it was strange that varla and welkynd stones would be destroyed after one use. How would there be any left after thousands of years? The way I am working it, when a magician enchants an item they create the symbol for the magical effect within the item, then transfer their magicka into it to power it. Basically the same thing they do when casting a spell. This way enchanting is all about the individual's skill and power, not simply pushing dials on an altar. Nor do you have to steal the souls of animals or people and then destroy them to make your magic items (something I always found abhorrent).

A varla stone would simply be an extra battery to use to put more magicka into an enchantment. But I do not see a person being able to use more than one at a time. Since they regenerate their store of magicka on their own, there would not be much need for a person to have more than one. For that matter, they are not really of any use unless you are enchanting.

Actually, I had forgotten all about your TES star sign being the Thief! How appropriate!


D.Foxy: Oh you never know, I might make you a courtesan!


Olen: Thank you Olen. I tried to make Morcant someone you could believe was was a shaman for 60 some years. Someone living on the edge of society, who often does not have much use for people. But being a person herself, does indeed need the company of others from time to time.


* * *

Chapter 8e - The Witch of Lake Trasimene


Teresa spent the rest of the day and night with the Witch, unrolling her bedroll across the woman's floor to sleep upon. Once again her dreams were haunted by the rotting faces of zombies and leering skulls of skeletons.

She woke to Morcant's hand gently touching her shoulder, and given the dark circles under the other elf's eyes, she could see that she was not the only one having trouble sleeping.

"Bad dreams?" the other woman asked as she made tea for the both of them.

"Yes, of Vilverin," Teresa shivered. "I guess I just can't get it out of my head."

"That is good then," Morcant remarked casually as she mixed together the hot drinks, "that you are having nightmares I mean."

"You have a strange idea of good!" Teresa exclaimed as she rose and stretched. She longed for a leisurely soak in the lake. But the smell of the Witch's steaming green tea led her to the table instead.

"When your clothes are stained, you wash them until the dirt finally comes out." Morcant said as she sat down in front of a cup of tea and set another aside for Teresa. "Nightmares are your mind's way of doing the laundry. The more you have the dreams, the more the stain on the memory comes out. Until it is finally gone."

"Well then, do you have any soap I could pour between my ears?" Teresa murmured as she sipped the tea. It was hot and bitter, but not too much of each. Rather just enough to warm her and put a savory taste in her mouth. "The sooner my laundry is done the better…"

After finishing their morning tea and munching on leftover cinnamon rolls, both women went out to the lake to wash. Teresa went exploring the countryside around the lake afterward, while Morcant went to work enchanting her new armor. After spending most of the day in the sun, Teresa came back to the cottage with her face as red as a lobster.

"What happened to you!" the older woman exclaimed upon seeing the crimson-skinned Bosmer.

"The sun," the forester grumbled as she sat at the table and helped herself to one of the few remaining rolls. "My skin's so pale, this always happens. It's one of the reasons I usually sleep during the day."

"Well I can keep that from happening with a simple cream," Morcant said, producing a mortar and pestle made of marble. "Let me show you how to make it. You only need rice bran, then add some jasmine, and a touch of aloe vera."

The Witch mixed it all together into a thick, creamy paste that smelled simply wonderful. Smearing it over Teresa's burned skin, she scraped the remainder into a small jar. "You can make it without the aloe, but I always add it because it is good for the skin. Besides, it reminds me of where I grew up. The jasmine gives it that lovely scent, but it too heals your skin."

"Thank you," Teresa said, feeling a little stunned. Using the cream would certainly be better than having to cast her healing spell all the time when she was out in the sun. "So where did you grow up?"

"The Gold Coast," the Witch said as she cleaned her mortar and pestle and put them away. "Anvil actually. But that was a long time ago. Aloe vera grows all over the county."

"I thought you were from Valenwood, or some other foresty place?" Teresa could not help but to exclaim.

"Oh no, I was born and raised in the city, just like you I suspect." The Witch began chopping carrots for their dinner, and Teresa moved beside her to help. "I was about the same age you are now when I discovered the forest."

"Do you ever miss it, Anvil I mean?" Teresa asked. She found herself thinking of Simplicia. What was the old woman doing now? Probably out begging for coins from the last wave of shoppers in the Market District, the wood elf thought. She had given the woman enough money to last for several weeks, but old habits die hard, and Simplicia was a creature of habit above all else.

"Miss the city? not at all," Morcant said as she started the fire with a burst of flame from her hand. "My mother, sometimes. I still go back to see her. My daughter… Well that's complicated. Do you miss your family?"

"I don't have a family," Teresa replied as she moved on to chopping celery. "Never did. You have a daughter though?"

"Like I said, that's complicated." the other woman replied darkly. She would not speak again as they prepared the meal, and Teresa did not press it further. It was obviously something that the other woman did not want to talk about.

The next morning the two of them sat outside the cottage, looking across the lake as the sun turned its waters a brilliant shade of gold. Neither spoke, but this time not from awkwardness. It was simply a scene too beautiful to break with talking. Only when the sun was high in the sky did either woman speak.

"This is such a lovely place." Teresa breathed. "I could turn into a morning person for this."

The Witch laughed, "the Imperials think it is haunted."

"Because you live here?" the younger elf said with a faint smile and twinkle in her eye.

"Oh hush!" The auburn-haired woman rolled her eyes. "Well, maybe that too…" She rose and walked to the edge of the water, and pointed to the far, southern shore. "This is Lake Trasimene, and that river that flows out of it way over there is the Sanguineto, going down over the falls to Lake Nemi."

Teresa stared at the other woman blankly. "I grew up on the streets," she said as she rose and actually stepped into the water herself. "None of that means anything to me."

"Sprouts, never any sense of history," the older woman sighed. "Sanguineto means 'River of Blood'. Back in the First Age, an Ayleid army led by Handril ambushed an Alessian army twice its size here and annihilated it. The round-ears were marching along the eastern shore of the lake just over there." The Witch pointed to the opposite shore of the lake. "They were heading for Belda, over the ridge behind us. They had no idea that Handril was waiting for them. His army came down from the hills above and trapped them against the water's edge. Fifty thousand Nords and Imperials, all slaughtered. The river ran red with blood for three days, and it's said their spirits still haunt this lake."

"Do they?" Teresa found herself eyeing the water around her suspiciously. Was that something she saw moving under the surface, near her feet?

"Don't be silly!" the other woman stepped into the lake beside Teresa and clapped a hand on her shoulder. "That was a long time ago. Their spirits have long since moved on and been reborn. Many times over by now. It's the goblins across the lake you have to watch for. The Bone Eater tribe lives in a cave over there."

"Do they ever bother you?" Teresa wondered, gazing across the lake. Nothing but peaceful, forested hills rose from the water to greet her eyes. Still, she remembered her encounter with the goblins in the sewers, and shivered in spite of herself.

"They did at first, but not anymore," the Witch said with a smile, walking back to the shore. "Contrary to popular opinion, even goblins learn."

Teresa found no signs of goblins during her day's foraging however. Something she was very thankful for. When she returned to the cottage, she drew her copy of Varieties of Daedra from her sack of loot and began reading. That pulled the Witch's interest away from a copper ring that she was hunched over and brought her to the forester's side.

"You did not strike me as a conjurer," Morcant asked. "You know, there are creatures of this world that can be summoned to aid you instead, such as the wolf and bear."

"Oh I don't know the first thing about summoning," Teresa quickly explained over the pages of the tome. "I found this in Vilverin. Lately everyone has been warning me about Daedra, and with the news about Kvatch… Well, it seems like a good idea to learn whatever I can in case I ever run into one."

"Smart girl," the other woman said, laying a hand on the forester's shoulder. "Learn all you can, it might save your life."

When Morcant later showed Teresa how to bake bread from cornmeal, the forester remarked that she would need to buy some of the Witch's food for the rest of her journey. The older elf looked at her with eyebrows arched.

"There is plenty of food out there," Morcant said nodding at the forest outside the window, "just live off the land."

Feeling a familiar warmth spreading through her cheeks, Teresa stared down at the yellow powder on her fingers. "Where I come from, that means looking through refuse piles for things other people threw away."

"My, you are a green sprout, are you not?" The other woman shook her head. "Tomorrow I will go out with you and show you what plants are safe to eat, and which ones are not."

"You don't have to do that," Teresa mumbled. "You've done enough for me already."

"Nonsense," the older woman retorted. "It will do me good to get out and stretch my legs a bit."

So the next day the two of them traveled around the lakes, Morcant pointing out the berries, leaves, nuts, and roots that were edible. She was even quicker to point out the ones that were not, such as poison ivy and yew. "If the berries are white, take flight," was just the first of many little phrases she had Teresa memorize as they stalked the land.

Ewww!!! I had better not annoy you, then!!!

Besides I don't look good in high heels, and bras tickle...

I do remember learning about how to use Aloe Vera as an emergency skin cream...

And as always, a finely crafted post. Kudos to Sub Rosa!!!

Ahh, another wonderful post, with beautiful country, a dark history, and an unquenchable thirst for knowledge. I see Teresa is beginning to understand the phrase knowledge is power.

I had thought the exact same thing when you mentioned Sanguineto - River of Blood. Sanguine is Latin for blood, for those who didn't know. In Spanish it's Sangre, and there is a mountain range in Northern New Mexico near Taos called Sangre de Cristo. There is history behind that name, as well. That's the cool thing about traveling - learning the history of different places, and I think Teresa is discovering the joy of it.

More, please.

Good update and more rounding of Morcant, she's a city gal is she? Interesting. And with family, that's a nice touch, usually shamen types have no roots but she has a mother and a daughter. It certainly makes her more interesting.

Still didn't get to find out what enchantment she got...

On the magic side of things I like your take on it, I too wondered how the stones could survive so long if they were destroyed through use, having the varla stone as a sort of reusable selfcharing soul gem is a brilliant idea. You clearly have a clear idea of how it works in the story and I'm interested to see more. I might even steal some of the ideas for the piece I'm working on

The only thing which read a little oddly to me was "She was even quicker to point out the ones that were not, such as poison ivy and yew". I'd always seen Cyrodiil as being old world but that's probably just my bias and it took me a moment to remember what poison ivy is (given that in the context of eating regular ivy is also poisonous). Having said that they do have tomatoes which aren't old world so my point is largly meaningless (I'm sure there was one before I tryed to put it to screen).

Anyway great stuff, as ever.


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

Once again you amaze me with the way that you can borrow from another source and blend it seamlessly into Tamrielic lore. The account of Handril sounds like it could have occurred during the Alessian revolt. Sanguineto seems to fit the Dark Brotherhood’s version of the word, as opposed to the Daedric Prince who gets off on seeing naked Countesses.

I feel the cool shade of foreshadowing in Morcant’s reluctance to talk about her daughter. Let’s see, Wood elf from Anvil with a great appreciation and affinity for nature. Can it be?

The summoning of wolves and bears fits Teresa’s character like tight leather armor. Please, please, please let Morcant teach her that little trick.

As a side note: We could start a pool, I for one would pay good money to see a courtesan named Foxy sometime in the future!

I just read 8b,c,d,e. This is very, very rich and interesting to read. It is also well spun and crafted. Simply marvelous! I expect Teresa shall be shaman of her own goblin tribe before long!

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

D.Foxy: I use aloe every day on my face, after I wash. It keeps my skin healthy, and looking younger than I really am.


haute ecole rider: Sanguineto is not actually an original name on my part. It is the real life stream that feeds Lake Trasimene in Italy.


Olen: We will learn what Teresa's armor is enchanted with when it is finished, at the end of the chapter. That should be about three more posts.

I have seen that name generator and tried it at one time. But it seems to only have the twenty or so names for each race, as I always find it spitting out the same ones over and over again. So I stopped using it. Instead I usually either look through race pages in the Wiki and look at the names of all the members in Oblivion or Morowind. Then I combine parts of different names to make something new. Or I just do a search on baby name sites for races like Nords and Bretons. The Imperials are easy, as I have a huge list of Roman names from my days of modding Rome Total War. I still hate coming up with names though. I am very picky about the ones I am willing to use.


Destri Melarg: I have always been a firm believer in working smart rather than working hard. Integrating real life history and cultures into ES is just my way of doing that. I first got the idea when I read Harry Turtledove's Misplaced Legion series. He was also prof of Byzantine history, and he actually created a fantasy world based off of the Byzantine Empire, just changing things to suit a sword and sorcery setting. Because he was drawing from an extremely well documented IRL source, he was able to make his fantasy world come alive with incredible detail.

I always have wondered why the Daedric Prince of hedonism is called Sanguine, but I guess names like Hugh Hefner and Larry Flynt were already taken...

You are completely off base with the idea of Alawen being Morcant's daughter though. Her daughter is actually a priestess, but I doubt if Teresa will ever learn much about her, as it is not a subject Morcant likes to bring up.

You are right that the summoning of animals would be right up Teresa's alley. However, even summoning a regular wolf would be far beyond her magical abilities. She would have to stop learning and practicing things like alchemy and fighting and forestry and simply concentrate on learning summoning for a few years before she could do that. Perhaps sometime far in her future she might do that. But probably not for a few decades.

However, that does not mean she could not use scrolls... Or perhaps learn to summon something much weaker, such as a bird perhaps?


Acadian: The Faint Smile Tribe? Goblin Teresa's Cave? Funny you should mention goblins though, as Teresa will be running into some next chapter.


Remko: Afraid not. Morcant is in no way related to Teresa.


* * *

Chapter 8f - The Witch of Lake Trasimene


The sun was lowering on the horizon when they returned to the cottage on the shores of Lake Trasimene. They heard the growling of a wolf before they saw the structure. Teresa drew an arrow from her bag even as the Witch raised her hand to drop the glowing disc of a Shield spell around her frame. So prepared, the two exited the trees and came upon an odd sight.

Tsume was standing in front of the cottage, fangs bared and snarling. Before him was a man, an Imperial by his dark hair and olive skin. He wore a full suit of leather armor, and a strung longbow was in his left hand. An axe was tucked into his belt next to his arrowbag, and a small, round shield sat beside a dagger at his other hip. His right hand was empty however, and he held it with open palm facing the wolf.

"Now just settle down you bag of fleas," the Imperial said in a tone that was soft and gentle, belying the meaning of his words. "I'm just here to see our lady-friend."

"See her you will," Morcant sang out, setting a hand on Teresa arm and gently pushing her bow to the ground. "Just turn around Attius."

Then the Witch was stepping quickly across the open space, and a moment later she was wrapping her arms around the Imperial. Teresa tried not to look, and instead took her time unstringing her bow. When she finally raised her gaze the pair had drawn apart, and she saw that a familiar dragon was emblazoned across the man's cuirass. He was Imperial Legion.

"Can you do something about that beast of yours?" the Imperial muttered, casting a glance at Tsume, who was still growling and baring his teeth. "I swear he is going to attack me one of these days."

"Tsume!" The Witch turned her gaze to the wolf. "You know better than that. Attius is a friend." The wolf did not look convinced, but he did slink away into the trees, pausing once to stare back with a look that could scarcely be darker. If he had not been an animal, Teresa would have sworn that he was jealous.

"Speaking of friends, this is Teresa," the Witch now turned to the young wood elf. The forester could not believe the sparkle that she saw in the older woman's eyes, or the brightness in her smile. It was almost as if the auburn-haired woman was walking on air.

"Evening ma'am," it was the same, respectful greeting that Teresa was coming to expect whenever she met a legionary these days. So different from how they had treated her in the first eighteen years of her life.

"Greetings Attius," Teresa said, forcing a faint smile to her lips as she walked over to the pair. Now she saw that flakes of grey flecked the Imperial's hair, and more than one line etched his weathered features. "So you two know one another?"

For a moment Teresa thought she heard Morcant giggle. No, she decided, the world would come to an end before the older woman would do that. Yet Teresa could not fail to notice how the Witch's arm clung to the Imperial's back, nor how his was firmly planted around her waist.

"In more ways than one," Morcant laughed. Drawing away from the man, she took both of his hands in her own and tugged him toward the cottage. "Come in, we can all have dinner together."

Teresa was fumbling to find an excuse to leave the two of them alone when she noticed that the legionary resisted. Standing his ground, he looked at the older wood elf with a frown.

"I cannot." His sigh was as leaden as the downward cast to his eyes. "I have orders for Bruma. I do not know for how long. I only stopped to say goodbye."

Teresa saw the Witch's expression fall. She could tell it was not simply disappointment in the other woman's eyes. Rather it was an empty look of despair. Her hand gripped tightly enough on the Imperial's arm for Teresa to hear the leather of his armor creak under her fingers.

"Don't go," she hissed, stepping closer to stare in his eyes. "Just don't."

"You know I can't do that." The man reached out a hand to cup her cheek. "I will probably be late as it is. It was only pure chance that I met up with another ranger coming up from the Valus Mountains and found out that we've all been ordered away. That vision you had about bandits being around Lake Poppad was completely off. There was nothing but some goblins and a few Vaermina worshippers."

The young wood elf heard the other woman curse then. A moment later the Witch reached into her skirts and drew forth the same copper ring that Teresa had seen before. Pulling the leather gauntlet from the Imperial's hand, she pushed the band over one of his fingers.

"Wear this," she breathed, "don't take it off!"

"Of course my love," the other man smiled, and a moment later he was leaning down to kiss Morcant. Teresa turned to look away, feeling more uncomfortable than a pickpocket in a watchtower.

The next thing she knew, the Imperial was jogging away into the sunset. Morcant just stood there watching until he disappeared into the woods, her arms wrapped tightly about her frame, as if to ward off a chill. Except of course that it was quite warm. Teresa stepped up beside the Witch and followed her gaze.

"I'm sure he'll be alright," she said in what she hoped was an encouraging tone.

"No he won't," the other woman said darkly, "I've seen it."

"You could be wrong," Teresa said quietly, laying a hand on the older elf's shoulder. "He said himself that your vision about the bandits was wrong."

"There never was a vision about bandits," the other woman sighed, her shoulders falling under Teresa's fingers.

"But then why did…" Teresa's words died on her lips as understanding dawned upon her. The Witch had lied to Attius, so that he would not find out about his new orders. Teresa did not know what to say. So she just stood there with the other woman, and hoped that her simple presence would at least lend some support.

The Witch remained standing there as time dragged by, eyes staring up at the ridge overhead. Eventually Teresa thought she saw the shape of a man outlined against the red sky. He stood there for long moments, as if staring back down into the valley below. Then he turned and vanished over the horizon.

What a beautiful scene between Attius and Morcant! Makes the chick's heart buried somewhere in me go pitter-patter! Bittersweet!

As for names, I feel the same as you. Ugh, coming up with names for new characters has been a real pain!

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

Morcant continues to become a more intreguing character... a dark section too, I'd even go so far as to say rather nasty. I develops another side to things, I'm interested to see what Teresa does now.

he brightness in her smile. ... walking on air. <snip> His sigh was as leaden as the downward cast ... Witch's expression fall. -- I like the change of word coice and rapid shift in atmosphere as she discovers that he's headed to Bruma. Nice mirroring of earlier phrases, it really developed a grim feel.

I want to know what happens next...

This is an excellent example of ‘playing the subtext’. Morcant’s broken heart is apparent in every line that follows this paragraph, but it isn’t until the end of the chapter that you give us the reason behind it. It is obvious that, as a writer, you understand the importance of what isn’t said.

And that last paragraph was both poignant and beautiful.

Beauty sings in every line.

Once again, Kudos.

Rosie! Pure beauty in this....I'm kinda speechless....mmm but I'm enjoying every word of this magnificent story!

haute ecole rider: That is pretty much an obligatory scene in nearly every war movie. It was nice to do it done from the opposite point of view than normal. I also felt it was important to show it, as that scene underscores the very personal cost that the Crisis has on the ordinary people of Cyrodiil (I hope!).

My big problems with names are that I am too anal to just take any one at random. It has to be perfect.


Remko: Thank you Remko.


Olen: Thank you Olen. This was meant to both give Morcant more depth, and to build more on the events of the ongoing Oblivion Crisis. We will be seeing much more darkness in this coming post...


Destri Melarg: Morcant can be a difficult character to write, because she keeps her feelings buried deep, and does not like to give away much about herself. So the only way I can reveal her motivations and feelings are by what she does not say, rather than what she does. Good practice for me though.


D.Foxy: Aww shucks...


minque: Thank you minque. I was heavily channeling my estrogen with that scene...


All: The following is the Celtic Cross, probably the most widely used tarot spread today. Because of that it has many variations. I am using the version I learned over twenty years ago, which is not very common these days. So do not be surprised if it looks different from what you may be used to seeing.


* * *

Chapter 8g - The Witch of Lake Trasimene

With that Morcant finally turned away. "Something is coming Teresa," she murmured as she stepped to the cottage. "A dark and terrible fire."

"Maybe that was just Kvatch you saw." Teresa followed the other woman. "There is good news now. There is a new Emperor! The legion is marching to join him."

"Kvatch was just the beginning," the other woman said grimly as she walked inside and sat by the fire. "Things are going to get worse, much worse."

Teresa felt her heart lurch at the other woman's words. She sounded so certain, as if it had already happened. Yet Teresa remembered what she had seen during her flight with the ravens. Julian of Anvil, Jauffre, and Martin Septim. She knew Baurus was somewhere out there as well. So were the legionaries she had met on the road, and the rest of the army. All were coming together to fight this strange menace. Things were changing now, weren't they?

"How can you be so sure?" Teresa asked, sitting down beside the Witch.

"Do you really want to see?" the other woman asked. Her voice sounded tired, as if she had not slept in days. Yet she rose and stepped to her bed. Kneeling down beside it, she drew forth a small chest from underneath the rattan mattress suspended between its pine timbers. A yellow light burst from her fingers as she ran them across the cask, and Teresa heard a lock click open. Raising the lid, the Witch lifted a stack of large cards from within, and turned to look at the young wood elf.

"I will show you, if you like." The older elf moved back to the hearth, and sat on the thick carpet before its crackling flames. Teresa nodded, and sat down across from her. Her heart quickened its pace as she stared at the wide sheets of pasteboard in the other woman's fingers. Their backs were painted with intricate knotwork designs, continuously wrapping around themselves with seemingly no beginning or ending.

The auburn-haired Bosmer closed her eyes and shuffled. When finally she seemed satisfied with her work, she opened her eyes again and set them upon Teresa. Laying the cards down in front of the young wood elf, the Witch spoke in a soft voice. "Cut them, as many times as you like, and think of the question you want answered."

Teresa had seen plenty of fortune-tellers in the Market District. Some used cards like these, others threw rocks or bones, some read palms, and even a few read tea leaves. She had never imagined that any were more than charlatans, always affecting strange accents and wearing outlandish clothing to get attention.

Yet Morcant was entirely different. She was plainly not trying to impress or fascinate Teresa. Her demeanor was no different from a laborer doing his work. Plain, economical, and to the point. Was Morcant the real thing then? Teresa wondered. Well if the Witch was, then she should take it seriously, shouldn't she?

Teresa breathed deep and closed her eyes. What is ahead of me? she wondered.

Reaching out with one hand, she took up the deck and let the cards gently slip through her fingers. Trying not to think about what she was doing, she instead let her intuition tell her when it was time to stop the cards from dropping and set aside the portion she was handling. Doing this, she divided the deck into three smaller stacks, before finally rearranging them all back into one.

Without saying a word, Morcant took the deck back into her hands and peeled off the top-most card, laying it down between the two of them. It pictured a young man wearing a garish outfit, striding headlong toward a cliff. His head was held high and a smile was etched across his face. Plainly he could not see the steep drop right in front of his feet.

"This surrounds you," Morcant now said quietly. "The Fool."

Teresa felt her cheeks grow warm, and looked away from the cards. Was the entire world determined to make her feel like an idiot!

"This is not necessarily a bad card," the other woman explained. "In fact, it often marks the beginning of many great deeds. It is only by forging ahead without flinching at the consequences that one can make a lasting effect upon the world."

The Witch laid another card across the first. This one showed the figure of a man wearing a black cape, his head cast down in defeat. Three overturned cups lay before him, their liquid spread across the ground. Yet behind him stood two more cups, upright and still filled with their precious contents.

"This crosses you," the Witch intoned. Her voice seemed far away, as if she were speaking from across a great distance. "You see only your shortcomings and failures, but not your strengths and accomplishments. No wonder you never smile."

Teresa squirmed as Morcant continued, laying another card on the floor above where the previous two sat. This one showed a man seated upon a throne and wearing a resplendent robe. A crown sat upon his white hair, and his eyes shone like beacons. A great red gem glowed from an amulet upon his chest, and the head of a dragon sat under his opened palm.

"This is above you, the Emperor," Morcant said. For a moment the Witch frowned, then went on. "Usually the cards are not meant to be taken literally. Seeing the Emperor does not necessarily mean the actual Emperor of Tamriel himself. Rather it means a strong figure of authority, a father-figure. Being above you, this man is always on your mind. A guiding star in your life."

Teresa stared at the card laying on the carpet. She knew that this card was indeed meant to be taken literally. Even now she could see the Emperor's face, feel his blue eyes filling her with their warmth. She swallowed hard around the lump that always formed in her throat when she thought of him. You are not going to cry, she told herself. Make him proud of you.

Seemingly oblivious to Teresa's stare, the Witch laid another card on the floor, this one beneath the other three. It showed a man hanging from one ankle. Yet a smile was on his face, and a glow seemed to emanate from his features.

"This is beneath you," the older Bosmer explained as Teresa winced at the sight. "The Hanged Man. This is not a bad card at all. Look closely. He should be miserable where he is, yet he is not troubled at all. In fact he is smiling, and he even has one leg crossed behind the other. He is having no problems at all. This is a card that reveals the ability to face adversity and prevail. No matter how bad things are, you take it all in stride. When you put this with The Fool, it becomes an especially powerful combination. Someone who can walk off a cliff, and still land on their feet."

Now Teresa squirmed again. Was this really supposed to be about her?

The Witch set down another card, this one to the right of the first pair. Now Teresa could see that she was creating a cross around those first two cards. This new card showed a youthful man holding a sword in his hand, eyes looking in the distance.

"This is before you," the Witch said, "The Page of Swords. An apprentice in the art of war, one who strives to learn and overcome. This is you indeed, my young warrior, who battles necromancers with no thought to the consequences."

Now Morcant laid a card to the other side of the first pair, completing the cross. This one showed a pair of ragged and destitute people, one shoeless and the other on crutches. Both were hobbling past the stained glass window of a chapel, which showed five pentacles etched upon its surface.

"This is behind you," the Witch said, "the Five of Coins. You are of the proletariat, the poorest of the poor, with not a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of. Look, you even pass by the warm light of the temple. Even in spirituality have you been destitute."

Teresa nodded, that was certainly her alright. She had never had two coins to rub together for her entire life.

"These cards represent you," the Witch explained, waving a hand over the cards. "They are your basic nature, where you have come from, what you are thinking, and where you are going. Now we will see the outside forces that shape your fate."

Then the Witch quickly laid down four more cards, face down in a long line to the right of the cross formed by the first six. Her hand went to the bottom-most card and flipped it over.

"This aids you," she said, looking down upon the figure of an armored man astride a charging horse. He held a sword aloft in his hand, and his mouth was open in a battle-cry. "The Knight of Swords. This may not be an actual knight mind you. But certainly a military man, a soldier or mercenary. A powerful fighter, who will be at your side when you need him most."

Morcant flipped up the next card, revealing the figure of a man with warped features and a pair of horns growing from his forehead. A huge dog sat at his feet, lost souls dripping from its opened jaws. A naked man and woman flanked the horrific pair, shackled in chains that led to the hand of the horned man.

"The Daedric Prince," the Witch hissed. "This comes unbidden. Normally this card means things such as slavery, or addictions to drugs like skooma. Forces that constrain or pervert the hearts of mortals. Yet I believe we should take this literally. The Daedra are coming, and you cannot escape the effect they will have upon your life. This card has been in every reading I have done for the past two months."

Teresa shivered, staring at the horned figure. "The Daedra did it they say!" The voice of the carter at Urasek echoed in her mind. The words of the guardsman from Chorrol pursued them. "…people disappearing, and legionaries turning up dead on the road, torn to pieces. It's the Daedra they say!"

The Witch turned over the third card in the line. It showed a tower being struck by lightning and bursting into fragments. People fell from the wreckage, plummeting to the ground below with looks of terror etched upon their faces.

"The Tower. This answers your question." The Witch sighed and looked up to Teresa. "I won't lie to you. This is the worst card there is. Absolute calamity, disaster, destruction. A nightmare is waiting for you."

Morcant lowered her gaze to the last card, finally turning it over. It was of a skeletal knight riding a horse with glowing red eyes. Kings and paupers alike lay dead at his feet, and the sun was setting behind the cliffs in the background.

"This ends it, Death," the Witch murmured. Then her voice picked up a bit. "This card is never to be taken literally, not even now. Instead it means an ending. The end of a phase in your life. The end of an era. Nothing will ever be the same again."

And so we come to the end of the Third Era.

This is good - I'm not much for fortune-telling - it's mostly telling folks what they want to hear ("you will meet a tall, dark and handsome stranger --"), but every now and then there's the real thing. Once in the bluest of a blue moon, if you ask me.

This has the ring of the real thing. Well written! Excellent job with the foreshadowing.

Nice use of the tarot cards! It's a great way to foreshadow the story

Agreed, it's an interesting technique telling the reader what's going to happen, but one which is most effective in laying hooks and building tension... I suspect there might be more to some of the cards than you've let on too.

You caught the mild discomfort of having fortunes read well, I can't say I go in for it (I'm too firm a believer in causality) but the few times I have had it done I can't say I much like it.


New character promised, most fascinating.

Ending with the tower and death probably isn't the best of omens... I want to know more.

Great stuff.

I really liked the laying of cards. Very well written

I think that this chapter could have served as a tutorial for the laying of Tarot cards. I was riveted the entire way . . . as you said in the chapter, ‘plain, economical, and to the point’, much like this comment.

8f - Wonderfully poignant interaction between Morcant and Attius. Perfectly done!

8g - Fascinating view into Morcant's world and abilities. You own passion for this shines through brilliantly!

haute ecole rider: Yep, tons of foreshadowing. I have been using Chekov's Gun a lot in these last few chapters. I promise it will go off soon!


Jacki Dice: Thank you. I was originally thinking of having Morcant use either bones or gemstones, but I am not personally familiar with the use of either. So in the end I went with Tarot, which I know well enough.


Olen: We have actually met the Knight of Swords already. He had a small part, with only a few lines. But we will see more of him in the future. Those who have read on the Beth forums should be able to guess who he is.


Remko: Thank you Remko. It is one of those cases of writing what you know. It always comes out richer when it is something you are familiar with.


Destri Melarg: There are some things I left out to be simple. The biggest thing was reversed cards. But like you said: plain and to the point. I did not want to confuse people with over-complications.


Acadian: You slipped that in while I was posting! Thank you A.


All: Now for the blessedly final post of chapter 8. This has been one of my longest ever chapters in the TF.

* * *

Chapter 8h - The Witch of Lake Trasimene

That night Teresa dreamed. Not of the undead, or of the Daedra, as she had feared she would. Rather it was Raven that came to her once more. Or was it she that went to him? Did it really matter? There were no great revelations this time. No strange sights. Merely herself and her spirit guide, flying through the darkness.

When she woke, she found that she had left her fears and doubts behind her in her sleep. What would come, would come, she knew. She would face it, as she had always faced whatever life threw at her. This time however, she would not be alone. Somehow, she knew that Raven would always be at her side. No matter what.

She found that Morcant was already awake as well, and the two had a simple breakfast of leftover cornbread and water.

"So how do you enchant things anyway?" Teresa asked through a mouthful of the bread. She knew it tasted good from when she had eaten it the day before. Yet it felt like eating dirt. No matter what she ate, it was always like after she first woke up, she thought glumly. "You don't seem to have any fancy magical tools or anything."

"That is because the only tools you need are in here." The Witch tapped her finger against her forehead, and then her heart. "And in here. It is really not much different from casting a spell. You create a symbol, channel your magicka into it, and will it to take effect."

"If it's that easy, then how come everyone doesn't do it?" Teresa rolled her eyes as she took a sip of water.

"I never said it was easy!" the Witch laughed. "I just said it was like casting a spell. When you get right down to it, all magic works that way. When you are enchanting however, the hard part is forming the symbol within an object rather than in yourself. It must be prepared first of course, otherwise it won't hold the symbol. Then of course you must gently pass magicka into it and bind it there. It takes a great deal of skill in the art of manipulating magic itself, what most mages call Mysticism. Of course the better one is, the more powerful enchantments one can create. Having a varla stone helps too…"

"So how good are you?" Teresa asked with a faint smile. She felt stuffed, even though she had only eaten a few bites, and pushed the rest of the bread away from her.

"Oh you scamp!" the Witch chuckled. Rising to her feet, she walked across the room and lifted the pile of hide and leather from where it sat near her bed. Carrying it back to the table, she set the armor down in front of the forester. "See for yourself. It has been ready since the day before yesterday."

"Why didn't you mention it sooner?" Teresa asked, her fingers running over the enchanted cuirass on top of the pile. "I would have been on my way and left you in peace."

The Witch said nothing, only looked out the window to the west. The same direction that Attius had gone the night before. That is when Teresa realized that the other woman had not wanted her to leave, had not wanted to be alone. The young wood elf felt like slapping her palm against her forehead. Nocturnal! what an oaf she could be, the forester thought, and now she as much as threw it in the other woman's face.

Not knowing what to say, Teresa did the only thing that was left. She put on the armor. She found that it was a lighter shade of brown than her previous suit of leather. The cuirass was made of thick hide, and had an open neckline that plunged deeply into the valley between her breasts, showing them off quite dramatically. Scales of hard leather were sewn onto the outside, falling to her lower ribs. Similarly hard pieces of leather wrapped about her shoulders and upper arms, while more supple hide sheathed her stomach, hips, and legs. A short skirt of scales hung around her hips and fell down in front of her legs, and hard pieces of leather reinforced her knees. Fur-lined boots rose to the middle of her calves, and similar gauntlets covered her hands to half-way down her forearms.

Screenshot

Looking down at herself, Teresa wondered how practical the armor really was. It not only showed off all the curves she never even imagined she had, but it also left quite a bit of skin visible. The open V plunging down her chest most especially so.

"This is armor?" she could not help but to think aloud.

"The bandits love this stuff," Morcant smiled as faintly as Teresa ever did. "They make it themselves. As you can probably tell, this was done by a man. Don't worry though, I have enchanted it with a Fire Shield. It is as strong as legion plate, and will give you some protection from flames as well."

"Really?" Teresa wondered, twisting around to try to get a good look at herself. It was only out of the corner of her eye that she saw the heavy iron skillet in Morcant's hand. Off-balance, she could not escape the blow that crashed directly into her chest.

The forester gritted her teeth for the pain she knew was just an instant away. Yet rather than crumpling to the floor as the pan slammed into her, she found herself just standing there. The heavy implement simply bounced off her chest with a flash of yellow light. She felt it, but it did not hurt a bit. It was more like a playful slap than the heavy blow she had expected.

"See?" the Witch said, putting the skillet down and shaking the fingers that had held it, as if they were numbed by the impact. "When I make something, I do it right!"

"I'm sorry I doubted you," Teresa said. The next thing she knew she had her arms around the older elf and was holding her tightly. "Thank you," she breathed, "not just for the armor, for everything."

"Don't thank me," the Witch grumbled. Yet she made no effort to release herself from Teresa's grip either. "It was just a trade. You gave me a varla stone after all."

When Teresa finally did pull away, the other woman looked her in the eyes. "It's time for you to go my dear," she said quietly. "You have places you need to be. So do I."

Teresa nodded and gathered her things. She noticed that the Witch was doing something similar as well. When she was finally ready the forester stood in the door and looked back into the cottage.

"You're going after Attius," Teresa asked, "aren't you?"

"Whatever would make you think that?" the Witch responded evenly. "I am just tidying things up is all. I've had a messy guest."

Teresa could not restrain the faint smile that slipped from her lips. The Witch was definitely going after him, she thought. He was a lucky man indeed. Not wanting to slow the other woman down, the forester opened the door and made her way outside.

"Wait," Morcant said from inside. Turning, the young Bosmer saw her walking to the doorway, the small tube of a scroll in her hand, tied together by a simple rawhide cord. She handed it to Teresa a moment later. "Take this," she said. "Use it when all seems lost. Do not waste it. The ally it summons will only remain for about ten minutes."

"I don't know what to say." Teresa looked down at the scroll in her fingers. She could feel the magic within it. Hot and powerful, it seemed eager to be released. "Thank you again, you're a good friend Morcant. I'll be back when it's all over."

"You've been a good friend too Teresa," the other woman breathed softly. "More than you imagine. You take care of yourself now."

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Yup, that armor was def designed by a man. Oh well.

Good ending to this chapter. I enjoyed the whole thing!