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mALX
Hugely powerful chapter - HUGE!!! Whew!!! Sage Rosa, you have a gift for depth in your writing that is so envied !!!! I am glad you started it off with that funny line - because it went from light to knocking the reader out with the ending scenes!! AWESOME WRITE !!!! This chapter has to be up in my top two favorites !!! Gobble...gobble...
Destri Melarg
QUOTE(SubRosa @ Dec 5 2010, 09:57 AM) *

I did try one of the Miss Marple's from 1987 - A Caribbean Mystery - since it was available for instant viewing. It did not do anything for me. Miss Marple sat out the first half of the story, which turned me off. I realize they were spending time building all the characters so there was plenty of suspect fodder, but a protagonist ought to drive the story, not be a bystander to most of it.

Yeah, Christie’s characters are prone to a certain voyeurism. Even Poirot does a lot of watching as events develop around him, before swooping down at the eleventh hour to reveal the solution to the mystery. Maybe it is a British thing. As Americans, I think we demand a more proactive stance from our amateur sleuths. I think it ties into our national ethos of ‘let’s fire as many bullets as possible in the hope that one or two hit the target.

Now for this latest chapter:

QUOTE
“Because she’s my baby,”

This statement speaks to far more than just four words said with slumped shoulders. One can read into it Simplicia’s growing realization that her little wood elf really is her own person now, with a life and with friends that Simplicia had no hand in shaping. The pride that Simplicia must feel when she thinks of the woman that Teresa has become is tempered by the realization that Methredhel had a large hand in forming that woman. It is little wonder that Simplicia views Meth with such malice. Through her friendship with Teresa, she has made herself a rival.

It will be interesting to see Methredhel's reaction when she learns who 'this Dreth' is.

I just love what you are doing with these characters!
Petra Arkanian
Wow. Good work, although thats not saying much, coming from a newbie like me =D

biggrin.gif
Olen
Well I've caught up. This piece just keeps getting better, the characters (and there's quite a cast now) are so strong and their interactions believable, they also fit well together with edges rubbing which just adds realism. It's an odd piece in many ways and different from other's here where there is a strong plotline to save the world etc., in ToTFS it's very much at th character driven end of things wherethe plot is just them living their lives but it's becoming increasingly compelling, indeed since the background plot of the Oblivion Crisis ended and the aftermath began it has become more so with each chatper offering more world building (much of which I full intend to steal borrow when I get back to writing) and interactions.

As far as individual parts go I kept a few notes when the mood took me:

16.4 - Particularly good chapter, recognised the meditation (give or take), very nicly done in bringing reality into the story making it stronger and quite insightful.

16/17 - using land spirits to give history was a nice device, it fitted in very well.

17.4 - A good point to show she's not invincable, though she may have worked out how to survive what she's used to there's still pleanty out there that she's not ready for. Again she became overconfident and it led to her getting her fingers burnt.

18.2 - Vols shows the cost of the crisis well, the juxtaposition of he city being mended and his scars sort of shows how the crisis is past but only superficially and that it's still very much casting it's shadow.

20.1 - A good insight into how the vast change in Teresa has an impact on those around her. She's a different person so it follows that she won't get on with the same people, though she managed to bring it home hard for herself. Realistic changes throughout the world of this piece make it come to life.

21.2 - Worldbuliding, the bank was a nice touch, especially putting it in a temple...

22 - I enjoyed the Roman referances, though the Roman grass crown was for saving a legion and the Civic Crown for saving citazens.

22.2 - "He also said that you were the meanest, toughest piece of work he had ever met. Coming from him that is quite a compliment." - I liked that line.

22&25 - these chapters from other povs work very well, their limited scope avoid the action shifting so far from Teresa but they flesh out the supporting characters and world nicely. This piece is very rich in that sort of thing with a lot going on in its world.

25.3 - An interesting insight into the relationship between Methy and Simplicia and nicely done. Also I feel Teresa might have become a 'bad' (by Simplicia's definition at least) influence on the woman, hiring a thief... she certainly wouldn't have dome that a few chapters back. I'd wondered how you'd handle this quest.

SGM
SubRosa
haute ecole rider: Perhaps Dynari and Methie have man problems because they are hanging out in the Bloated Float? wink.gif Somehow I think they would the same problems if they were finding their men at the Tiber Septim though. But their problems would be better dressed...

When I was in high school my mother used to say that my best friend was a bad influence on me. My friend's mother said the same about me! We used to joke that we were two bad influences waiting to happen... laugh.gif


hazmick: Teresa should buy a babe? Well if she finds one for sale she just might! For now she is happy to rent Nerussa from time to time... wink.gif


Acadian: I am glad you could tell what Methredhel was going to think next concerning Teresa. It means I have been showing enough of both characters that their true natures are evident.

I actually almost forgot about Fox. My first few drafts had no mention of Methie's spirit guide. It was only in the later versions that I fixed that oversight and put her in.

Finally, the argument between Simplicia and Methredhel was something I loved writing. The way it ends was meant to reveal a lot about the characters of both. We have seen how Adanrel would have reacted. Here we see that Methie is made of quite different stuff.


D.Foxy: Funny you should mention hos, considering what happens next...


mALX: I am glad that line worked. It seems to be one of the things straight girls complain about guys wanting to do most, and straight guys complain about girls not doing the most. So I never really thought about changing it.


Destri Melarg: Murder, She Said came yesterday, and I loved it. It had exactly what A Caribbean Mystery was lacking. Miss Marple drives the entire movie, right from the start when she proclaims a murder has taken place, then goes on to snoop after the police tell her she is a senile old bat who should mind her own business. Needless to say I put the rest of the Maggie Ruthefords in my queue. You were spot on, she really makes the character come alive.

As ever, you have zeroed in on my favorite line from this entire chapter. It says so much about Simplicia and her motivations. Likewise, as you also noted, the reason for her malice/jealousy toward Methredhel, who is such a major rival for Teresa's love and attention.


Petra Arkanian: Thank you Petra. I am looking forward to catching up with the rest of your concerned protagonist later today.


Olen Returns!: I am glad the t.v. show format is working. You have highlighted exactly what I hope to achieve with the TF: A character-driven piece focused on making the people within in it and the world they live in come alive. Plot has always been second place in this piece.

That basic meditation from 16.4 is something I learned from Chris Penczak at a local festival. It has a very strong shamanic influence (which is no surprise if you are familiar with him), so I felt it would work very well for the TF and Teresa.

I know my grass crown is not the same as that irl. The real one was made of grass for starters! I liked the name best of all the Roman awards, so that is why I used it.


Next: Out last segment saw Simplicia bring Methredhel into her investigation. Next we see what the Bosmer thief turns up.


Chapter 25.4 – Unfriendly Competition

"I can't believe I let you talk me into doing this," Dynari said, adjusting the plunging neckline of the cropped top that she wore.

"Talk you into doing this?" Methredhel laughed. "Pretending to be prostitutes was your idea."

The Bosmer thief turned from the other woman and back to the mirror in front of the two of them. First she carefully slid rouge of red ochre and alkanet across her lips until they were a deep shade of burgundy. Then she began applying kohl around her eyes, staining them a dark black.

"Lay it on thick," the young Imperial said from beside her. "This is a daylight job. We have to look our parts."

"And if we are lucky, we might get some extra work on the side." Methredhel winked at the other woman, who giggled in response.

"Only if he's a patrician," she laughed. "Just imagine the opportunities from being a nobleman's mistress."

"Yeah, I could steal his keys while you keep him busy, and rob him blind before he gets home," Methredhel joked. Rising to her feet, she likewise adjusted the red crop top she wore, and smoothed down the short, loose skirt that hung beneath her bare stomach. "I heard these are all the rage in Hammerfell," she said, turning one way and another to see how much of her figure the skimpy outfit exposed. Or perhaps how little it did not leave bare.

"Redguard women get to have all the fun," Dynari pouted, staring at her own lithe figure in the same mirror.

"Well, if you call living in over a hundred degree heat fun…" Methredhel commented, sliding her set of lock picks down into the valley between her small breasts. She frowned when she discovered there was not nearly enough covered territory down there to hide the brown leather packet that contained the tools. Maybe these crop tops were not such a good idea after all, she thought.

"Here, put it in your belt pouch," Dynari said as her fingers deftly slipped between her breasts and plucked out the lock picks. For a moment she wondered if Dynari was like Teresa, attracted to other women. Then she shrugged, taking the small packet and tucking it into the coin pouch at her waist. If Dynari was, then at least someone might think she was attractive.

A few minutes later they were out the door of the second floor apartment they shared and making their way down the stairs. Both took their time on the steps, given the high, spool heels of the court shoes they wore. I really have to practice walking in these more, Methredhel thought to herself. All the men seemed to love them, or at least the women in them.

Then they were clopping their way along the hard pavestones of the street outside. Passing a row of tenement insulas like the one they lived in, the two women made their way to Sword Avenue with more than a few hoots and catcalls from the men they passed on the way. Dynari laughed and hooted back, prompting Methredhel to smile.

"Maybe you're in the wrong guild," the Bosmer winked. "You seem to have a talent for this sort of thing!"

"Oh just relax and have a little fun!" the young Imperial exclaimed. With that she slid an arm around the bare waist of the wood elf. "It's good to cut loose. Believe me, as a good, proper Imperial girl, I never got to dress like this before! Let alone act like this!"

The crowds along the thoroughfare became heavy as the great marble bowl of the Arena loomed before the two women. Turning down a side street, they passed several brothels before coming to a tenement that was even more run down then the one they called home.

"Gods, what a dive," Dynari said as she gazed up the chipped white-wash and cracked stone of the sprawling apartment building.

"Hey, at least he's only on the third floor," Methredhel said as they walked into the central atrium of the towering structure. Laundry hung from lines crisscrossing the open space in the center of the building. Children screamed and ran past in a cloud, prompting Methredhel to instantly grab the coin purse hanging from her belt. An old man came after them, waving a shoe in one hand and yelling something unintelligible.

"Another day in utopia," Dynari's voice fairly dripped with sarcasm. "Imperial culture is truly unmatched across Tamriel."

"This is a palace compared the shantytown I used to live in." Methredhel led the way to the stair that curled up around the edges of the atrium, leading to the upper floors. "At least they have a well here, and cobblestones to walk on. All we had was mud and Lake Rumare. You didn't dare drink from the lake either, because you know what people did in it."

"I don't mind living poor, but not that poor," the other woman shuddered against Methredhel's slender frame. "I don't know how you managed it."

"Teresa taught me how," the Bosmer thief smiled faintly at the thought of her friend. "You just make the most of what you have, and be thankful for it. Because it could be worse. Things can always be worse."

"Well, here we are, third floor, second door from the stair," Dynari said, eyeing the apartment before them. "Are you sure this is the right one?"

"That's what Simplicia said," Methredhel breathed, also staring at the chipped wood of the entrance. "She's usually good about those things. She spent nearly two decades spying out prospects for the Guild, so she knows how to shadow people."

"So what does she have against thieves then?" the young Imperial asked.

"Nothing," Methredhel sighed, "it's just me. I corrupted her pristine daughter. She'd probably blame the Oblivion Crisis on me if she could."

"You are such a bad influence," Dynari almost giggled. Then the Imperial's eyes cast around the walkway that surrounded the atrium. "Let's do it then. You're better with picks than I am, so you get the door. I'll keep an eye out."

Methredhel nodded, and fished the small, book-like leather case from her coin purse. Unbinding the rawhide that held it shut, she opened the packet and fished out a pick and tension wrench from the loops that secured them within. Starting with the wrench, she inserted it into the keyhole and turned it.

There, she thought as she followed with her pick. That moved the plug just enough to make a ledge for the pins to rest on when she pushed them up. Now using the curved end of her pick, she began working each pin in the lock up and out of the plug, hearing a slight click as each slid into place above it.

"We've got company," she heard Dynari whisper. Her heart doubled its pace, and the noise of footsteps on the nearby stair came to her ears. Work the lock, she told herself. Don't think about the bystander, just work the lock.

"Who are you two?" came a woman's voice from somewhere behind her. "What are you doing in Valen's apartment?"

"We're a late lunch," the thief heard Dynari simper behind her. She felt the other woman's bare flesh against her back. Nocturnal, please let her be blocking me from the view of whoever that is, Methredhel thought to herself as she worked the last pin. "Valen sent us up ahead while he cashes in his winnings, but his key's dreck. Maybe you'd like an early dinner when we're done?"

Methredhel had to fight down a giggle as she heard bystander cough loudly. "Well I never!" came an outraged voice.

"Well you should try us then," Dynari's voice piped up, and Methredhel could feel the Imperial's hips grinding against her back. "Five drakes apiece, and we'll open an Oblivion Gate between your legs!"

Then the sound of footsteps resumed on the stairs, much faster this time. Dynari was right, Methredhel thought, the prostitute disguise was a good one!

Then the last pin clicked into place. The plug slid sideways, opening the lock. Reaching back to take Dynari by the hand, Methredhel pulled her into the apartment.

"Come on lover, let's make sure we're ready for Valen when he gets here," she said loudly, hopefully enough so that the bystander could hear from the stairs above. The Imperial shut the door behind them, and they looked over the small domicile.

"This place is a real pit," Dynari observed. Muddy footprints went to and fro across the wooden floor. The few pieces of furniture within were chipped and faded, and draped with dirty clothes. Propped against one wall was a shovel, pry bar, and several burlap bags. Empty wine jugs lay scattered about, one still dripping the last of its contents from its open mouth. The air was stale and smelled of mildew, causing Methredhel to wrinkle her nose in disgust.

"Keep an eye out, I'll look through the place," Methredhel breathed. Dynari turned back to the door and cracked it open, peering into the atrium of the insula outside. In the meantime Methredhel explored the rest of the apartment. There was a small kitchen area with a stone hearth and dining table. Several half-eaten crusts of bread lay on the floor, now covered in mold. The icebox and cupboards were empty, which the thief considered a blessing.

Moving to the final room in the hovel, Methredhel found a stained rattan bed, wardrobe, and writing table. The wardrobe held nothing but threadbare wool and flax clothing. Next to the quill and inkpot on the table she found a book laying open. Peering through the rough scrawl upon it, she found that it was a ledger. It listed what appeared to be deliveries of goods to Thoronir, and his payments for them. Each set of items came from a different person, and most appeared to be jewelry and clothing of silk and velvet. But Methredhel also saw some listings for things like weapons, statuettes, a painting, even a few gold teeth and a glass eye.

"This is a blackmail list," Methredhel thought aloud. Simplicia was right, it was all stolen. Dreth must have been keeping the book for extra leverage against the shopkeeper. Perhaps in case Thoronir had second thoughts about their arrangement, and tried to turn him in? Or maybe just to extort him? There was no mention of Dreth himself on the list, so nothing to directly implicate the dark elf. Except of course that he had the ledger.

Gathering up the book, Methredhel returned to the main living chamber, where Dynari still waited by the door. "I have what we need," she said, "let's get out of here."
Olen
I liked that part, it was good fun. Disguse in plain sight and all that always is and sending the woman away by offering her services topped it all off. The fun was well worked into the action though, there was the rubbish place where Dreth lived (I could just picture it) and the seriousness of what they were doing to offset it.

And not this quest properly diverges, and cleverly, though I suspect they havn't worked out the source of the goods. Yet.

Interestingly I first came across the meditation in 16.4 as a 'celtic' thing, though it seems to be one which crops up in various forms.
hazmick
The words "let's get out of here." sound simpler than the actual escape, perhaps the next chapter will have an untimely visit from vile Valen?

Your descriptions of the apartment block brought it to life, I felt as if I was in there with Methredhel and Dynari (and in those outfits that wouldn't be a bad thing wink.gif ). You've done a great job with the characters in this chapter, you've really brought them to life as well.

I thought you'd like to know that the line about the...'Oblivion gate' still has me cleaning Earl Grey from my laptop biggrin.gif

More soon I hope, the suspense is unbearable!
treydog
QUOTE
"It's deader than the Reman Emperors in here,"


I just loved that contextual comment- it is those small touches that make your story breathe with its own life (unlike the aforesaid emperors).

QUOTE
Teresa, where are you now cherry blossom? On the road to Bravil? Mara protect you, the old woman thought, and save you from your own damn foolishness.


That is another wonderful bit of writing- the last bit is especially ironic, considering what Simplicia is about to get up to.

An excellent plot twist to make Dreth the source for Thoronir’s cheap goods. And Simplicia’s flashback was quite chilling.

To quote the “good parts” of the scene between Simplicia and Meth would require highlighting the entire conversation. Powerful, moving, and very true to life.

In Dynari, you yet again manage to introduce a memorable, wonderful character with whom we fall in love. (Or maybe it's just the outfit hubbahubba.gif )

If I have mentioned it lately, this is one of the best stories I have ever read. Not just best fan-fiction- best fiction of any kind.
Destri Melarg
So many wonderful little character rendering details are incorporated into this chapter! I could spend several pages listing them all, but for the benefit of those who will post after me I will restrain myself . . . wacko.gif

But I just have to acknowledge a few!

- Methredhel turning one way and another in front of the mirror to see how little the outfit did not leave bare.

- The nonchalant way that Dynari (with whom I am now hopelessly in love) reached into Methredhel’s top to retrieve the lockpicks.

- Methredhel immediately grabbing for her coin purse when prompted by the sight of screaming, running children. Did she recognize herself in those kids, I wonder?

- Finally, the description of Dreth’s room does a lot to give us a sense of the mer, even before he appears.

Now, how to tie the blackmail list to Dreth? I am sure Simplicia has some thoughts on the matter.
Acadian
What a lovely episode, and so fun to read! I heartily approve of the delicate recipe you used here -
A broth of mystery.
Half a bottle of intrigue.
Freshly ground humor.
Deliciously rich descriptions.
A generous pinch of sexual tension.


And the beautiful result?
QUOTE
Then they were clopping their way along the hard pavestones of the street outside.
I truly laughed to see the results of our two young ladies' attempt at harlotry be so described. laugh.gif

Seriously, this was all just delightfully done! goodjob.gif

Nit?
QUOTE
"I can't believe I let you talk me into doing this," Dynari said, adjusting the plunging neckline of crop top that she wore.
I suspect this is another casualty of last minute editing (I know it well), and that you perhaps meant: 'of the crop top'. However. . . while you are considering a tweak, might I suggest: '. . . adjusting the plunging neckline of her cropped top.'
D.Foxy
"Five drakes apiece, and we'll open an Oblivion Gate between your legs!"

And there goes my blue mountain between the screen and the keyboard!!

GRRR ROSA YOU MINX DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT I PAID FOR THAT BLUE....GRRR...


rollinglaugh.gif

And to pay you back for that, Rosy, here's a thought:

I thought Oblivion Gates were to let Devils come OUT, not to let Devils CUM IN!!!

tongue.gif

And don't you DARE reply "Well...new imps have to be born SOMEHOW..."

rollinglaugh.gif rollinglaugh.gif rollinglaugh.gif

*edit*

So as not to spam your thread....here's a (serious) afterthought this time, since you said you were looking for a new dagger for Teresa...

WHY NOT GET A PIRATE'S CUTLASS, AND MAKE IT INTO A CUT-DOWN CUTLASS?

Think about it - cheap and with a broad, strong blade - which will become even stronger after it's been cut down to dagger size and re-sharpened, perfect for those blocks and parries - a large handguard which can be modified with brass knuckles for close range, bone breaking punches - and a weapon unique to Teresa alone!

mALX
Foxy got my favorite quote already, but there were so many others I would have spammed your thread copying!!! This chapter and the last have become my top two favorite chapters of all !!! You have a gift for humor and lightness that you showed in these, and as always - you have a gift for creating characters in these NPC's !!! AWESOME WRITE !!!!


QUOTE

I am glad that line worked. It seems to be one of the things straight girls complain about guys wanting to do most, and straight guys complain about girls not doing the most. So I never really thought about changing it.


In the south it is used as birth control, but also has medicinal purposes. According to men it relieves headaches; backaches, sore throat.
SubRosa
Olen: The last scene was a fun one to write because I finally had the chance to really show Methredhel being a thief. Adding Dynari into the mix turned it into a rather fun romp.


hazmick: The apartment block was inspired by the slums of ancient Rome. Not to mention modern day ones. A lot of fun to write about, but not to live there!


treydog: Yay, someone liked the Reman Emperors line. I worked to come up with something that would be ES-appropriate.

Using Dreth in place of Agarmir was the reason I went and did this chapter. It allows me to finally wrap up the little Dreth-arc. I kind of like the fact that it will be Teresa's mother that brings about the ruin of the man who tormented her as a child.


Destri Melarg: Another vote for Dynari? I am glad she is coming across so well. She was not even in my outline. I just threw her in because a few months ago MyCat mentioned liking her. So I worked her in as a friend and roomate of Methie's, and in so doing tried to subtly imply that Meth has moved on from Adanrel.

Yes indeed, Methredhel did recognize herself in those kids!


Acadian: Lovely recipe! I had a lot of fun with the prostitute disguise. I needed something that would be believable in broad daylight, and it was the first thing that came to mind.

Good call on the cropped top. Thank you for the suggestion!


D.Foxy: I had no idea that Oblivion Gate line would be so amusing. I was just looking for something that a Cyrodiilic prostitute might say to entice someone.

What is a Blue Mountain? I assume you do not mean Ered Luin in Middle Earth.


mALX: I always thought laughter was a better birth control. wink.gif I am sure men just like it because it is tighter is all.


Next: In our last episode Methredhel discovered a ledger recording Dreth's transactions. Next she brings it to Simplicia, and we meet the third player in this investigation.


Chapter 25.5 – Unfriendly Competition

Methredhel stepped into Jensines 'Good As New' Merchandise. The store was practically empty, with the only real customer a middle-aged Imperial woman at the counter talking to Jensine. A pair of children hovered near her skirts, and every time one tried to wander away, she quickly rebuked them and pulled them closer. Either their mother or a nanny, Methredhel thought. Either way, she felt sorry for the kids.

She had taken the time to wash off her makeup and replace her court heels with a pair of soft-soled doeskin shoes instead. Yet she still wore the Redguard crop top and short, loose skirt. She had to admit, she liked the way it showed off her flat stomach and left her legs free to move. She also liked all the hungry looks sent her way by the men she passed on the street.

She saw Simplicia crouched down before one of the shelves near the front window, straightening up the set of copper pots and pans within it. The old woman now wore a brown skirt and chemise, with a darker brown bodice sheathing her chest. All were simple and unadorned, but still of good linen. Such a strange thing, the thief mused. The Simplicia she had known before had owned nothing but a single green dress of tattered flax. Now she seemed to have a different change of clothes for every day of the week. Being a clerk had certainly done well for her. No wonder she was so keen to put a damper on Thoronir's low prices.

The old woman looked up as the door thumped shut, and met Methredhel's gaze. "Well you certainly took your time," she said sharply. Standing up with a wince, the old woman paused to rub the small of her back. "It's almost six bells past noon. We're about to close."

"I stopped at The Copius Coinpurse on my way over," Methredhel said with a sly smile. "That Thoronir sure has low prices. He has most of your customers too…"

"Well of course he does you idiot!" Simplicia hissed in a tone too low to carry beyond the aisle. "That's why I went to you! And why are you dressed like that? You look like a cheap street-corner tart!"

"Hey, the deal is you have to be nice to me," Methredhel declared. Lifting Dreth's book in her hand so Simplicia could not miss it, she made as if to turn back to the door. "If not, then I'll take this ledger to Thoronir and see how much he'll pay me for it."

"Wait, wait!" Simplicia whispered. Turning back, Methredhel could see the old woman's eyes simmering with frustration, and savored every moment of it. "You look fine. A perfect example of young, virginal womanhood. There, you happy now? Now show me the fetching book."

Methredhel chuckled, and handed her the ledger with it open. Pointing a finger to the last entry, she spoke. "It looks like a series of deliveries from different people to Thoronir. Each item is tallied, along with the amount he paid for it. The last entry just has the name Julia Albinus and the nineteenth of Last Seed, but nothing else. So he must be planning on something today."

"Julia Albinus?" Simplicia mused aloud. "That can't be."

"Why not?" Methredhel asked.

"Because she's dead," the old Imperial declared. Lumbering to the front door, she reached down to a small table and picked up a copy of The Black Horse Courier from a small stack of the broadsheets. "Here, it's in today's edition. She was a rich patrician. Broke her neck slipping in the bath they say. Her family's big slum lords in the Arena District. I bet they offed her for her money. They buried her this afternoon."

Methredhel stared at the broadsheet. Everything Simplicia said was there. Except of course for the accusation of murder by her relatives, Methredhel thought wryly. But if Julia Albinus was dead, how could Dreth rob her? Was he going to pretend to be a distant relative and slip into their manor during the post-funeral gathering? But he was a Dunmer, and they Imperials, so that was impossible.

That is when she remembered the dirty footprints in Dreth's apartment, along with the shovel and pry bar.

"Dreth's going to rob her grave!" Methredhel hissed. "That's where all this is from, the cemeteries!"

* * *

"So how's that shawarma?" Volsinius asked. He looked up from his own plate of the same spicy lamb strips and vegetables, and paused to take a swallow of milk from his clay cup. He wore a simple grey legion tunic and trousers, and a patch now covered the empty socket where his left eye had once been. His mithril arming sword hung from one hip, and a long, triangular dagger from the other.

"It's good," Brekke mumbled through a mouth full of the succulent meat. The sack cloth she had once worn was now gone. In its place the young Breton was now clad in soft green and blue linens. Her brown hair was washed and pulled back in a braid that framed her features with its coils, and her face was scrubbed clean of dirt and grime.

"I don't usually like foreign stuff, but these Redguards make good food," the legionary said with a belch. That inspired a giggle from the child sitting beside him, and he could not keep from smiling. Gods, how life had changed since the Crisis, he thought. A few months ago he never would have imagined himself eating dinner with a street urchin, let alone enjoying it. Was this how Teresa made Simplicia feel? he wondered. Was that why she had sacrificed so much for that little Bosmer girl?

Not that Teresa was little anymore, the centurion mused. Still, sometimes it was hard to look at her and not see the little brown-haired girl she had once been. Whom he had caught stealing sweetrolls…

"Volsinius." The voice nearly made him drop his cup and spill the cow's milk all over himself. A cloud of butterflies took flight in his stomach as he turned his head. He already knew who it was. Her voice was one he would never forget in all his days. One he both dreaded and longed to hear. Simplicia.

She stood behind him wearing clean brown linen. A woman worn and beaten down before her time. But in his mind's eye, Volsinius saw her as she was before… everything had happened. In his memory her hair was black as indigo, her skin smooth as cream, and her eyes beckoning like a Daedric Princess… Gods, what a woman she had been!

"Simplicia," he forced his tongue to spit out. He did not know what else to say. There was so much he wanted to, but somehow the words all slipped away as he fumbled for them. His heart raced like a galloping Quarter Horse, and somehow his mouth felt as dry as the Alik'r Desert. In spite of all of his years, he felt like a raw recruit facing combat for the first time.

He rose from the wooden bench upon which he sat, setting his cup down beside his plate. All along the table plebeians continued to eat, paying them no heed. More of the simply dressed folk stood in line at the hot food stand next to the table, where a trio of Redguards dished out plates of shawarma, fried kibbeh, falafel, hummus, baba genough, and of course the flat, round loaves of bread that Hammerfell was known for.

"I need your help," the old woman said. She seemed oblivious to his distress, and acted as if nothing had ever passed between them. Perhaps nothing ever had, Volsinius thought as an empty abyss yawned deep within his breast. Back when she had worked at The Peony Pavilion, she had been with plenty of men. She had probably forgotten him completely.

Still, at least she did not stare at the scars that covered the side of his head, or wince, or try to look away. She had been there when he was awarded the Grass Crown as well, the centurion remembered, along with Teresa. Still, perhaps she had only been there because Red had dragged her along?

"What can I do?" he asked. This might be his chance to find out once and for all, he thought, if she felt anything for him at all.

"There's a thief you need to stop," the old woman said matter-of-factly. With that, the centurion's heart fell flat on the pavement. It was nothing but pure business after all, he realized. He was just another soldier to her. "He's a Dunmer named Dreth. He's been robbing graves. His next one is going to be tonight - Julia Albinus."

"A grave robber?" Volsinius said. "How do you know about all this?"

"I heard him talking the other night," Simplicia said. "He said he's going do it today. He likes using a knife, a damn big one too, so be careful."

Volsinius stared at the old woman. What was it she was not telling him? His eye could see that she was lying. Or at least concealing something. Every liar had a tell, and twenty years on the street had taught him to spot them all. Simplicia's was how she kept looking up when she was talking to him. Was she involved in it? Volsinius mused, or Jensine?

Did it matter?

"I'll take care of it." Volsinius laid one hand upon the hilt of his sword. "Julia Albinus you said? She's that patrician they buried today. She'll be in the necropolis outside the Talos Plaza gate then." His eye turned to the west, where the sun hung low in the sky over the city walls. "He'll want to wait until dark. That gives me a few hours to get ready and get there before him."

"Can I come too?" Brekke's voice piped up. Turning to look at the little Breton, Volsinius saw that her features were lit up in excitement. "I can be a look out!"

"Not a chance kid, and if I see you anywhere near that graveyard I'll-" His eye saw how Simplicia's breath caught ever so slightly. Somehow he knew that she was thinking of that day he had caught Teresa. He still did not know what had come over him. He had just acted without thinking. Was that what Simplicia saw when she looked at him now. A monster?

"Nevermind," he breathed. "Simplicia, will you keep an eye on Brekke until I'm back? She might remind you of someone we both know."
hazmick
QUOTE(SubRosa @ Dec 9 2010, 04:36 PM) *

"I don't usually keep with foreign stuff,

Sonds similair to a line in Lord of the Rings where Sam is describing Elven food. It could just be my obsession with LOTR clouding my mind but I like it!

I love how you have developed Vols from the brutal soldier to the cuddly guardian of Brekke (and maybe a future love interest of Simplicia wink.gif ). Methredhel has done a good job of playing the detectives assisstant!

Can't wait to see how Vols handles Dreth.
Olen
Now that was interesting, it's the first time Vols and Simplicia have come into contact since the crisis and you handled it brilliantly. Very believable and there's mystery there, as far as I recall Simplicia has never thought much about Vols (other than him being another legionary). So Dreth is going to get it... again. He should run away to Akavir to escape Teresa and her friends.

Simplicia did a good job getting everyone to do what she wanted. She's cleverer than she thought, it makes me wonder if she'll realise how much more she could do.

Great characters, I really want to know what happens next.
Destri Melarg
You ability to play on the subtext of a chapter is really highlighted in these paragraphs. Even though we don’t see it, we can feel the grudging respect that Simplicia has gained for Methredhel (one gets the impression that the continued insults were a way to mask that respect). We can also feel the impulse within Volsinius that makes him want to do right by Brekke as a way to make amends for his earlier treatment of Teresa. That impulse is later mirrored when Simplicia’s voice draws him into a particularly effective remembrance of times past.

I love the fact that Simplicia uses Methredhel as her eyes and Volsinius as her arms to insure her continued employment at Jensine’s. One is left almost feeling sorry for Valen Dreth!
Acadian
Another great installment of Simplicia's mystery-solving. It is a joy to watch Simplica grow - or perhaps just display what was formerly hidden by the squalor of her previous existence. We've known of her heart, but she now shows quite the head on her old shoulders.

This episode was a wonderful example of presenting your priority of focusing on your characters, while still moving your plot along nicely.

QUOTE
"You look fine. A perfect example of young, virginal womanhood. There, you happy now? Now show me the fetching book."
This is simply masterful! Bravo, SubRosa!

QUOTE
A few months ago he never would have imagined himself eating dinner with a street urchin, let alone enjoying it. Was this how Teresa made Simplicia feel? he wondered. Was that why she had sacrificed so much for that little Bosmer girl?
Similarly, this says so much about Vols - and Simplicia and Teresa.


Nit?
'Simplicia hissed in tone too low to carry beyond the aisle.'
I'm not positive this is a nit, but take a look at tone. I would think you meant 'tones' or 'a tone'. You might even consider: 'Simplicia hissed, her tone to low to carry beyond the aisle.'
Thomas Kaira
So, what is going to happen in that graveyard... what oh what?

Looks like it's time for Volsinius to confront past demons.

The tension is so thick you could cut it with a knife... ph34r.gif


mALX
Awesome Write, SubRosa !!! The depth you write into your characters is breathtaking !!!



QUOTE(SubRosa @ Dec 9 2010, 11:36 AM) *

mALX: I always thought laughter was a better birth control. wink.gif


Nah, you can certainly get pregnant while laughing. Happens all the time !!


*
SubRosa
hazmick: That line was inspired by the LOTR movies! I gave them a watch about three weeks ago. Probably my twelfth time. "I don't think he knows about second breakfast..."

Rest assured, no more cuddly Vols for this chapter! As Dreth will likely lament!


Olen: Rest assured that Vols is not just another legionary to Simplicia. He is the one who smacked her little girl! That reminds me, I need to put in a scene somewhere between Teresa and Simplicia talking about him.

Simplicia is indeed the spider in the web this chapter. Everything that happens here is driven by her. It is not all pure manipulative genius however. She knows her limitations, and so is not about to try picking locks or getting into battles. That is what youngins are for.


Destri Melarg: And the insults and baiting go both ways! After all, Methie did not have to put in that dig about the Copious Coinpurse. It says a bit about how both of their views toward one another are changing.


Acadian: Indeed, we are seeing exactly what Simplicia is made of this chapter. Imagine what she was like as a twenty-something hottie? It is no wonder Vols lost his head over her.

And I see you focused in on that little rumination of Vols when he considers the relationship between Simplicia and Teresa, and begins to see how rewarding it truly is.

Quite right about the tone, as usual. smile.gif


Thomas Kaira: One graveyard coming up. Vols probably is not going to comfort past demons though. biggrin.gif (sorry, I could not resist the voice of Sir Rugrat there...)


mALX: Depth of characters is certainly what I am going for, over everything else.


Next: Simplicia enlisted Volsinius to her cause in the previous episode. Next he sets out for the final confrontation with Valen Dreth.


Chapter 25.6 – Unfriendly Competition

The sun was lowering on the horizon when Volsinius marched through the massive gatehouse that squatted over the western edge of the city's outer wall. The legionaries snapped to attention as he came near, even though he still wore only his tunic. He nodded in return. Everyone in the Fifth seemed to know who he was now. Ever since the High Chancellor had placed the Grass Crown upon his head it had been that way.

The smell of horse manure was strong in his nose as he followed the road past the collection of barns and other wooden buildings that made up Chestnut Handy Stable. Folk of all races still walked back and forth inside the fence that surrounded the livery. Some led horses, others brushed them down, or carried bales of hay and bags of grain, or performed numerous other chores. In the corrals that dotted the land beyond the buildings he saw prancing Friesans, gliding Nibenean Walkers, stocky Quarter Horses, short-backed Morgani, and horses of many other breeds ambling to and fro.

Volsinius paid the horses and their caretakers little note however, and continued on his way. Before him the ground sloped down to the lake, where the great western bridge crossed its gentle waves. He turned off the road to the right and made his way across a smaller cobblestoned path that hugged the western edge of the horse pastures.

Finally leaving the livery behind, Volsinius found a low stone wall before him, pierced by an iron gate directly ahead. Reaching out to the bars that formed its double doors, he found them unlocked. Damn, he thought, Dreth was here already, and it was not even full dark yet.

That made him glad he left his armor back at the barracks. Dreth and whatever compatriots he might have would have heard him coming from a mile away in all that steel. At least now he still had a chance at taking the thief by surprise.

He paused to draw forth a potion from his belt and knocked it back with a wince. Damn things always tasted like a day-old loincloth, Volsinius thought as the yellow glow of a Shield enchantment fell around him. Still, at least now he was armored with the equivalent of mail. Yet without all the racket.

Moving slowly and carefully, he made his way into the necropolis that rose beyond the walls. All around him were tombs and mausoleums of stone and marble, enough to create a small city. Many were decorated with statues and frescos. Some were of gods. Arkay was especially prominent, although he recognized a few of Akatosh and Azura as well. Still others he could not identify, and he wondered if perhaps they portrayed the denizens entombed beneath them. Moss and ivy grew over many of the buildings, and the soldier wondered how old some of them might be. At least centuries to be sure.

As the sun hovered over the edge of the horizon, he paused to dig another potion from the pouch at his belt. After drinking this one the world jumped into sudden brightness. It seemed as if it was noon and the sun glowed directly over head. But the color was drained from nearly everything. The sky above, the ground below, even his skin, all were relegated to varying shades of grey. Only Magnus - now a dull red - still managed to cling to any of his color.

These thieves thought they were so slick, Volsinius ruminated as he sneaked through the necropolis. Every one of them was convinced that all Imperial Legionaries clomped around in a mountain of steel, with bright torches in hand to announce their presence. The looks on their faces were priceless every time the trap was sprung. He could still recall one who had claimed that he and his men had cheated by wearing linen and using Night Eye potions…

A brighter spot loomed ahead, and Volsinius paused a moment to study the buildings around him. None showed the tell-tale signs of a lookout - the line of a wall broken by the partial silhouette of a mortal, or a roof with the suspicious lump of someone lying upon it. Confident that he had not been seen, he crept forward once again.

He found a sprawling mausoleum before him, faced by a row of fluted columns. Its peaked roof was decorated with images of the Nine Divines, and the bronze plate affixed to its wall proclaimed it as belonging to the Albinus family. The flickering light of a torch emanated from the open doorway, and the centurion heard the scraping of metal against stone coming from within.

Those doors were magically locked, the centurion thought. This Dreth must be a mage if he could open it, and a good one at that. Or have a powerful scroll.

A cart waited to one side of the mausoleum, with a ponderous Shire harnessed before it. The huge, bulky horse turned his head to look Volsinius over as he crept up to the back of the vehicle. But it did not make a sound, and turned its head back a moment later. The centurion found nothing but a darkly-stained canvas tarp in the bed of the vehicle, and moved to the door of the tomb.

Stepping back so he would not be silhouetted against the open door, Volsinius drew his mithril arming sword and held it low in one hand. He could feel his heart pound in his chest, and once more butterflies danced within his belly. Licking his lips, he stepped inside and immediately moved to one side to avoid being framed in the open doorway.

The interior of the tomb was rectangular in shape, its long axis stretching out away from him. A row of columns to either side helped support the vaulted stone roof above, and Volsinius noted that it was high enough for him to swing his sword overhead. Stone sarcophagi were tucked into niches that lined the walls, rising three high. Each had a brass plaque denoting the name of the resident, as well as dates of birth and death.

One sarcophagus lay on the marble floor however. Its top was pried up, and the iron bar that had been used to perform that task lay propped against the stone vessel. The body of a middle-aged Imperial woman clad in velvet and silk could be clearly seen within. Bending over it was a Dunmer man with a pair of pliers. As Volsinius watched, the dark elf used the tool to pry forth a gold tooth from the mouth of the corpse.

The Dunmer was clad in plain flax, and appeared to carry no weapon other than a long dagger at one hip. He might be a mage though, the voice of experience whispered in the back of Volsinius' mind, or have enchantments.

The clanking of metal made the centurion turn his head to see a second grave robber. This one was tall, and Volsinius imagined he might be a Nord from his size. Clad in bulky plate and an open-faced helm, he carried a steel arming sword in one hand and a torch in the other.

That was munition plate, Volsinius thought as he studied the armor, iron that made up for its poor quality with extra thickness. From the way the thug moved, the centurion could see that it was not fitted to him either. It was clearly taken off the rack. Or perhaps off someone else's body.

At that moment the armored thug looked Volsinius in the eye, and the centurion could see from his expression that he had been detected.

"Imperial Legion!" Volsinius barked, raising his sword. "Drop your weapons and surrender!"

Of course the thug did neither.
D.Foxy
GRRRRR....trust you to end your chapter on a cliff hanger...or should that be a sword clanger?

I will expect you to make up for that, by giving us a combat in confined areas chapter with appropiate moves, tactics, and just plain old wham-bam-smash his helm moves!!!

Oh, and throw in some choice insults between the combattants as well, m'dear.

(BTW, since you asked, it's Blue Mountain Coffee, and I paid an arm and a leg for it!!!)
mALX
QUOTE(D.Foxy @ Dec 11 2010, 12:28 PM) *

GRRRRR....trust you to end your chapter on a cliff hanger...or should that be a sword clanger?

I will expect you to make up for that, by giving us a combat in confined areas chapter with appropiate moves, tactics, and just plain old wham-bam-smash his helm moves!!!

Oh, and throw in some choice insults between the combattants as well, m'dear.

(BTW, since you asked, it's Blue Mountain Coffee, and I paid an arm and a leg for it!!!)



Foxy...on caffiene? GAAAAAAH !!!! panic.gif And I can't believe you didn't touch this line !!!!

QUOTE(SubRosa @ Dec 11 2010, 12:19 PM) *


mALX: Depth of characters is certainly what I am going for, over everything else.



hazmick
WOW! biggrin.gif . No more cuddly Vols indeed.

Your description of the mausoleum was brilliant, I felt like I was with Vols for a moment. Reminiscing about previous arrests and foul-tasting potions, brilliant.

I'm quite excited for the next chapter, I'm no fan of Dreth so I hope you will write us a vivid and very imaginative death. biggrin.gif
Acadian
Lots to like here! You remind us that a professional soldier is less predictable, more creative and more versatile than some might assume. Wonderful use and description of potions. I thoroughly enjoyed being inside Vols' head for this.

I enjoyed your description of both the stables and the draft horse assigned to the wagon.

If there was ever any doubt as to whether Dreth was despicable, yanking that poor dead woman's tooth out certainly put an end to that! What a wonderful way to make the reader scream for his blood!

Might I assume Vols is about to open a large can of Legion whupass? wink.gif

Nit?
QUOTE
These thieves thought they were so slick, Volsinius ruminated as he sneaked through the necropolis. Every one of them was convinced that all Imperial Legionaries clomped around in a mountain of steel, with bright torches in hand to announce their presence. The look on their faces was priceless every time they sprung a trap on those idiots. He could still recall one from the Waterfront, who had claimed that he and his file had cheated by wearing linen and using Night Eye potions…
Two considerations here:
1. The bolded 'they': In my humble opinion you are bouncing a bit between they (thieves) and they (Legion) and relying too heavily upon context to keep them straight. Might I suggest: 'The look on their faces was priceless every time the Legion sprung a trap on those idiots.' Very minor, but it did catch my eye.
2. Use of the word 'file' in this context is unfamiliar to me. I assume you are referring to one of Vols' fellow soldiers or perhaps the small unit he was involved with? If it is Roman terminology, you might consider its obscurity to TES readers and clarify.
Grits
"That was munition plate, Volsinius thought as he studied the armor, iron that made up for its poor quality with extra thickness. From the way the thug moved, the centurion could see that it was not fitted to him either. It was clearly taken off the rack. Or perhaps off someone else's body." I love hearing Volsinius' thoughts here. These details really pull me into his world.

I dare not ask Vols how he knows what day-old loincloth tastes like. blink.gif

I am holding my breath waiting to see what happens next!


Olen
Good part, shows the Legion as more intelligent and less brute force than they usually appear. It also shows more ways magic would be used which makes the world deeper and more realistic. His comment on the potion's taste was a nice touch, very much in the head of a non-mage using magic - never mind the miricle way this works, why does it taste nesty? smile.gif

I sense things are going to go down badly for a certin pair of theives soon, but if anything I'm looking forward to Vols going to pay Thoronir a visit, he doesn't seem to be in the best of moods.

Of course the thug did not do either. - very minor but 'did not do either' seemed a bit cumbersome, 'did neither' might read more smoothly.
SubRosa
D.Foxy: There are a couple of moves and their counters that in the following fights that I took from some medieval longswording manuals. I am sure you will recognize them. One I was saving for Tadrose but decided to use here as well. You will see your rondel this segment as well.


hazmick: Lots of vivid death coming right up!


Acadian: I put that tooth-pulling in just to reinforce Dreth's wickedness. It is also fresh in my mind from The Pacific, as some Marines did it.

Good eye on the two nits, both should be fixed now.


Grits: I don't want to ask how Vols knows what day old loincloth tastes like either!


Olen: Actually Simplicia never mentioned Thoronir, so Vols does not know about him. Simplicia has other plans for the rotund shopkeeper...

Good eye on the nit too. I used your version.


Next: Our last episode found Vols in the tomb of Julia Albinus, facing down two grave-robbers. Next we see how he fares.


Chapter 25.7 – Unfriendly Competition

"I'll send your bloody soul to Sovngarde!" the armored grave robber roared in reply. Must be a Nord, Volsinius imagined, no one else would make such a threat.

The Nord dropped the torch and came at Volsinius in a rush, stabbing high at his chest. Volsinius neatly side-stepped the lunge, bringing his left arm down on the Nord's blade and pinning it to his side. Damn fool did not even have the sense to hold the blade horizontally to keep it from sticking between the ribs, the centurion thought as he raised his own weapon. The golden light of Volsinius' Shield enchantment flashed as the thug tried to jerk his sword free to guard. But the centurion's muscles did not budge, and neither did the sword. A moment later his own point dove between the Nord's helmet and gorget, creating a fountain of blood.

Volsinius jerked his sword free with a twist, and kicked the dying Nord to the floor. Another kick sent the thug's arming sword skittering across the floor and out of his reach. Not that he was still fighting. Instead the man clutched at his rent throat with both hands, vainly trying to staunch the blood that was spurting out of him at a frightful rate.

Volsinius raised his eye to look for the Dunmer when something hot and sharp pierced his back. Wincing in pain, he reflexively sent one elbow back. Flesh crumpled beneath it, and the centurion heard a groan from behind him. He turned and tried to raise his sword. But the pain flared white hot when he did so, and he was forced to lower the weapon.

Doubled over before him was the Dunmer. His right hand was covered in blood, but there was no sign of the dagger that had been sheathed at his hip before. It's still in my back, the centurion realized, that's why it hurts so damn much. Reaching back with his free hand, he found the hilt jutting from his right shoulder and jerked it forth. Agony seared through his flesh, and only by a supreme effort of will was he able to retain hold of his sword.

Looking down at the weapon, Volsinius saw that it had a long, triangular blade of foot-long steel, and both its guard and pommel were round discs. A rondel, he thought to himself, just like his own knife. No wonder it had pierced his Shield enchantment, it was one of the best daggers there was for puncturing armor.

The Dunmer straightened up then, and Volsinius could see that he was thin, and his limbs shook. Still, the dark elf reached out to pick up the pry bar that rested beside the sarcophagus of Julia Albinus. Raising it in his hands, he stepped toward Volsinius with a snarl upon his lips.

"You'll never take me!" The slender man's red eyes glowed with the light of madness. "I knew you broke into my apartment this afternoon, that's why I laid this trap!"

Broke into his apartment? Volsinius wondered. Had Simplicia done that? He did not know the old woman had it in her. But that did explain what she had not been telling him. No matter how things worked out, if a magistrate heard that, she would go to prison. It would likely only be for a month or two. But as broken down as she was, could Simplicia cope with even that?

Then the Dunmer was upon him, and there was no more time for thinking. The iron bar came down at his head, and Vols easily stepped to one side and raised the rondel in his left hand. Sweeping away the crowbar with the dagger, Volsinius stepped forward and buried his right fist - still clutching his arming sword - into the Dunmer's face.

Blood spurted as the elf's nose buckled under the centurion's fingers. The dark elf staggered back, clutching his features with his free hand. Volsinius followed up with the pommel of the rondel, smashing it against the side of the grave robber's head. The Dunmer crumpled to the ground in a heap, the pry bar falling from his fingers. Raising one hand up to ward off the next blow, Volsinius thought he heard the dark elf pleading for mercy through the pounding of blood in his ears.

Simplicia, he thought. If he talked, and fingered her for breaking into his apartment…

Without another thought Volsinius brought his sword down. Dreth's scream only lasted for the second that remained of his life. Then the dark elf lay still in a pool of blood, plunging the tomb into a silence only broken by the centurion's raspy breath, and the clattering of the dagger as he dropped it at the feet of the corpse.

Amateurs, Volsinius thought as he lifted his now-empty left hand to the roof and closed his fingers. Calling up the magicka within him, he bunched it up into a tight ball within his fist. Then opening his hand a moment later, he let the energy cascade down over him. Immediately the pain in his shoulder abated, as if it had been washed away by a stream of cool water.

"Brilliant, just brilliant!" The sound of clapping from the doorway brought the centurion around. "That was even better than the Arena! I'll have to find another lackey of course, but his sort are a drake-a-dozen. On the other hand, you've given me two more worm thralls. Three once I'm finished with you…"

Standing silhouetted in the entrance was a man wearing a black robe. The skull and bony hands that decorated the center of the robe were deep red however. That stood out starkly, even in the grey world of Night Eye. The man carried no weapons, but a light clung to his hands as he raised them.

Necromancer! Volsinius thought. That explained how the seals had been broken. Probably who brought the cart as well. Dreth would not have needed that just to carry off some clothes and jewels, not to mention teeth. But to carry away bodies…

A disc of energy illuminated the space between Volsinius and the magician. It fell to the floor with a whooshing sound, and a skeleton took shape in its wake. A moment later the disc vanished into the floor, and the skeleton stepped forward with a Dwemer longsword held in its bony hands.

The skeleton choked up on the long blade it held, holding it with left hand halfway down the blade, and the right on the hilt. With a lightning fast jab the point came at Volsinius' chest, and the centurion was only barely able to swat it aside with his arming sword. Without slowing, the skeleton took another step forward. It reversed grip with its right hand and slid it down the blade, while pulling the point back with its left hand. This caused the sword to swing around in a circle, and now its shining bronze hilt came crashing down at the soldier's head like a hammer.

Taking the end of his own blade in his left hand, Volsinius held his arming sword up to parry the blow with both hands. The skeleton pulled down with a smooth motion, the guard of his sword hilt hooking on Volsinius' blade and yanking it down. The centurion barely let go of the sword with his left hand before it was stripped from his grasp.

This skeleton was no amateur, Volsinius thought as he gave ground before the creature's onslaught. To make matters worse, it was fast, and strong, and not likely to ever tire.

The centurion stepped in close and tried to trip the monster. But it was too wily, and was able to skip away. Its blade came winging around, and Volsinius was barely able to parry the blow with his shorter arming sword. Then his left hand licked out, punching the skeleton in the face. A tooth fell to the floor, and the creature hissed in response.

How in Arkay's name could they do that when they had no lungs? Volsinius thought to himself as he stepped back out of range of a thrust. Then lightning crackled in his eyes, and the next thing he knew he was laying on the floor at the far end of the tomb. The stink of burned flesh filled his nostrils, and wisps of smoke curled up from the blackened ruin of his tunic.

Still gripping his sword in hand, Volsinius forced his way through the pain that wracked his chest and fought his way to his feet. The skeleton was closing in, and it did not even have to kill him. All it had to do was continue to keep him occupied while its master picked him off with lightning bolts. But if he ignored the skeleton and went after the necromancer it would cut him down from behind with ease. Everyone said to ignore the summons and go after the mage, but it was easier said than done. He would just have to keep it between him and the necromancer. If he was lucky, the magician would kill it with his own bolts. Then he would only need a few seconds to finish the necromancer.

Simplicia, he thought, this had better be worth it.
D.Foxy
Very, very good, my Rose. I did the same technique with Sojourner and Alfric/Bannon's battle - only the Bandit chief used a steel spear, which being longer carries a heck of lot more momentum.

Another Cliffhanger! Be warned, all Cliff's friends will come and beat you for hanging him all the time!

tongue.gif
mALX
WHEW !!! That is probably the best fight scene filled chapter I've ever read - bar none !!! AWESOME CHAPTER !!!!! And now Vols has killed two men in protection of Simplicia !!! That is love, no matter what the outcome !!! Riveting write, SubRosa - I literally could not tear my eyes from the page at any point !!!

I have to agree with Foxy - CLIFFHANGER !!!!! ARGH !!!!! NO !!!! MORE, MORE !!!!!!
Thomas Kaira
Aaand... we have a typical bloodbath in the name of Imperial law. You know, for being the idyllic capital of the Septim Empire, Cyrodiil sure could stand to get a bit more civil in the crime-and-punishment department, especially when that poor street urchin gets her bowels spilled upon the cobblestones for stealing a loaf of bread in the game proper. rolleyes.gif

Leave it up to Rosa to make said bloodbath as riveting as it can possibly get, though (and really, how else could this one have ended?). You kept me on the edge of my seat the entire read-through! Let's see here...

QUOTE
Then the Dunmer was upon him, and there was no more time for thinking. The iron bar came down at his head, and Vols easily stepped to one side and raised the rondel in his left hand. Sweeping away the crowbar with the dagger, Volsinius stepped forward and buried his right fist - still clutching his arming sword - into the Dunmer's face.


Oof! I felt that one! wacko.gif

QUOTE
Then lightning crackled in his eyes, and the next thing he knew he was laying on the floor at the far end of the tomb. The stink of burned flesh filled his nostrils, and wisps of smoke curled up from the blackened ruin of his tunic.


Poor Vols... It seems every time he gets in a big battle, he ends up looking like he just dove into Red Mountain. I sure hope his luck changes soon...

QUOTE
Without another thought Volsinius brought his sword down. Dreth's scream only lasted for the second that remained of his life. Then the dark elf lay still in a pool of blood, plunging the tomb into a silence only broken by the centurion's raspy breath, and the clattering of the dagger as he dropped it at the feet of the corpse.


And so this dark chapter of his life is finally put to rest. So long, Dreth! And may Oblivion have no mercy on your soul! salute.gif

Well, that is, if Vols can get past his anorexic new friend, of course. Stupid necros, they never fight fair. nono.gif
Destri Melarg
Chapter 25.6 – Unfriendly Competition

Grits already spoke my thought about the day old loincloth!

I like the consideration given to the effective use of shield and night eye potions. The scene in which Dreth removes the woman’s tooth certainly had the desired effect! I can’t imagine that the thug in 'off the rack' plate would be eager to surrender to the hulking form in linen claiming to be Imperial Legion. Vols will definitely have to open up that proverbial can!

I spotted a couple of small things:
QUOTE
Volsinius paid the horses and the caretakers little note however, and continued on his way. Before him the ground sloped down to the lake, where the great western bridge crossed its gentle waves. He turned off the road to the right however, and made his way across a smaller cobblestone path that hugged the western edge of the horse pastures.

I don’t think you need the repetition of the word however, but it isn't too jarring.
QUOTE
As the sun vanished completely, he paused to dig another potion from the pouch at his belt . . . Only Magnus – now a dull red – still managed to cling to his color.

Here I think you need to change ‘vanished completely’, otherwise, it doesn’t make sense that Vols can still see the sun (unless we are talking about the penumbra of sunlight).

Chapter 25.7 – Unfriendly Competition

Even to the last, Dreth proves himself to be a backstabbing little coward whose bark is much worse than his bite! At least he lasted longer than his companion, whose soul even now is standing before the barred gates of Sovngarde being laughed at! laugh.gif Volsinius shows us why he earned the Grass Crown.

The fight against the necromancer is great so far. I love being in Vols’ head for thoughts on the lack of ease in which one can engage a necromancer. And, as ever, thoughts of Simplicia intrude upon the moment.



Acadian
A smoothly written and gritty combat sequence that screams of Vols years of experience. Yay Vols! He showed 'em. viking.gif I was pleased to see Vols display a knowledge of basic healing spells - a wise precaution for any warrior.

Just when we thought we could slow our breathing . . . What a surprising twist the entrance of the Necromancer was - although it makes perfect sense after all. You have beautifully shown why both necromancers and conjurors can be so deadly if they get even the slightest opportunity to start tossing magic around. And why they are so cocky. Your descriptions of magic use were captivating.

I know what Buffy would do here. . . but somehow I just don't see Vols peeing himself. ohmy.gif

Vols' ruminations in the midst of combat clearly show he has a severe case of 'Simpliciaitis' tongue.gif


Nit?
'Volsinius neatly side-stepped the lunge, bringing his left arm down on Nord's blade and pinning it to his side.'
I suspect you mean 'on the Nord's'.
hazmick
Just when I thought this story couldn't get any more intense, a Necromancer shows up! It's so great! Volsinius is awesome, his feelings for Simplicia keep him going and it's brilliant. biggrin.gif More soon I hope!
SubRosa
D.Foxy: Sorry Cliff. If I had put the last two segments and this one in a single post it would be over 5,000 words.


mALX: And he has not just killed them, but murdered those two men for Simplicia. Neither one was able to offer any resistance. Now if he was smart he'd bring her their hearts as a wedding present...


Thomas Kaira: Well, Vols did start out with the intention of taking Dreth alive. Hence his punching him and knocking him upside the head rather than running the dark elf through right off the bat. But once it looked like Simplicia might be dragged into an investigation, well, Vols was not about to let that happen. The armored thug was simply too well armed and armored for him to even consider taking him alive.


Destri Melarg: One can opened. You called it on Dreth way back in Old Friends, Not Forgotten. A decade of languishing in the dungeon would not have made him stronger, but weaker. The new Dreth is just a skinny, shaking shadow of his former manic self. Crazy enough to push around pudgy shopkeepers, but not a real, straight up threat to to a seasoned fighter.

Good eye on both nits. I have gone back and changed things to fix things.


Acadian: Looks like Vols scared off that Nord's "the"! laugh.gif Thank you for rounding it up and helping me put it back in formation.

Vols' healing spell was a result of the world-building in the Battle of Bruma, where I had all the legionaries using a simple one. I am sure he would have been using it between scenes during the Crisis, but being a novice he would have only been good for one or two castings before being out of magicka.

Oh Buffy would not pee herself over a simple necromancer. She would cast a combination summon clannfear/invisiblity. Then think over her options while Spike dealt with Bones. Then she would prep an arrow with a silence poison (and likely four other ones too), and killed the nec with a single bowshot.


hazmick: The necromancer was a natural outgrowth of Dreth's activities. Since he is already breaking into graves and stealing the valuables within, why not sell the corpses along with their clothing and jewels? It also gave me a good way of tying in the future necromancer arc. Plus it gave me a little surprise in what is otherwise a rather well-known quest.


Next: In our previous episode Vols killed Dreth and his henchman, only to find himself beset by a necromancer. Next we will discover that Methredhel has not been idle since delivering Dreth's ledger to Simplicia.


Chapter 25.8 – Unfriendly Competition

Methredhel pushed the iron grate up with all the strength in her arm. By Nocturnal, why did they have to make those things so blasted heavy? she thought as she shoved it aside and clambered out of the storm drain that ran beneath the necropolis. She had traded her Redguard outfit for more utilitarian leather armor, along with a dark hood and a cloth to mask her face from the nose down. An arrow bag hung at her right hip, and her curved elven dagger from the other. With a strung longbow in one hand, she scampered through the city of the dead until she found the tomb of the Albinus matron. Then she found an out of the way spot and waited.

A half-hour dragged by before the Dunmer appeared with an armored companion. Methredhel could not put her finger on it, but something about him seemed familiar. She was certain that she had seen him before somewhere. But she could not place his face…

Soon afterward they were joined by a robed man riding a cart. He came not from the southern entrance of the necropolis, but from the north. That meant he either came from the Market Gate, Methredhel imagined, or from completely outside of the city. From somewhere in the wilds on the north side of the City Isle perhaps? Teresa had said it was all wilderness up there after all.

The robed man passed his hand over the door with a flash of golden light, and a moment later the three entered the tomb. An unlocking spell, the wood elf realized. One of these days she would have to try learning that. Still, lock picks were more artistic, she mused, they required skill and dexterity. Anyone could wave a hand and throw magic around. It took real talent to do it the old-fashioned way like she did.

Still, magic had its uses, and with that thought Methredhel gathered up her own energy and cast a Detect Life spell. Creeping forward, she came to a halt as soon as the three pink glows of the grave-robbers sprang into view through the stone walls of the mausoleum. She stopped and backed up until they slipped out of range once more.

The mage might be using a Detect Life of his own, she knew. At a full sixty feet, not many could match the distance of her spell. But just in case, this way he would not see her. She moved a bit to her left, so that anyone entering or leaving the mausoleum would move into range of her spell. Then she waited, recasting her spell every ten minutes to keep it continually active.

A fourth person came along by the time the sun had vanished over the horizon. Ducking behind a wall so she could not be seen, Methredhel used her spell to track him. He moved slowly, and did not make a sound as he crept up to the tomb. After pausing a moment at the cart, he went inside. Then a shout came from within the tomb, and the sound of weapons followed.

Damn, that was the Imperial Legion alright, she thought. But only one of them? Looking around, the necropolis showed no more pink glows that told of the magicka which all spirits possessed. Nor did any other sounds come to her ears, except of course the clanging of metal and screams from within the tomb.

Methredhel gritted her teeth. What in Oblivion was she going to do now? Simplicia's plan would unravel if Dreth and the others got away. Methredhel had expected that the soldier Simplicia had spoken to would bring others with him, not come alone. Did he have a death wish? Or did he not want anyone else in the legion knowing what was going on?

The flash of lightning burst from the open doorway, and Methredhel cursed under her breath. Peering around the corner of the tomb she hid behind, she saw Fox silhouetted against the opening of the Albinus mausoleum. The spirit guide had no pink glow, but Methredhel knew she was real none-the less. As she watched, Fox looked directly at her, then walked into the open doorway of the tomb.

Well, she had brought her bow for a reason after all… Drawing a bronze-tipped arrow from the bag at her hip, the thief set the Dwemer missile to her nock and stepped to the doorway with light feet. Only three pink glows remained within the torchlit mausoleum. Through the glowing haze of her spell that shrouded the nearest, she could see it was the man in the robe. Across the room was a skeleton wielding a bronze longsword, which it was using with great skill against a towering human. He was a Nord from his muscular build and the blond stubble that crowned his head. A patch covered his left eye, and a mithril sword was clutched in his right hand. As she watched, the soldier parried a blow of the skeleton's long blade, then kicked the undead creature in the ribs, snapping one in half and causing it to stagger back for a moment.

It was indeed the same soldier that Simplicia had talked to after leaving Jensine's shop, Methredhel thought. She could tell that even though the pink glow her Detect Life spell covered him in. He was easy to spot, given the eyepatch and burn scars that covered the side of his face. That jogged a memory of the screaming fight between Teresa and Methredhel. "He looks like he fell asleep in the fire!" Adanrel had taunted. What had Teresa said? "…his face burned off!"

So this was Teresa's legionary, Methredhel thought, the one who had saved her life - and Simplicia's - during the Crisis. Damn, Methredhel cursed once more. Of all the soldiers, it had to be him. She prayed to Nocturnal that no one in the Thieves Guild ever learned what she was about to do, and pulled her bow back to half tension.

Letting out half the air in her lungs, she sighted in on the magician. Sparks now grew from his fingers, and he lifted his hand toward the legionary. Pulling the string back to her cheek, the wood elf loosed her arrow. The golden light of a Shield enchantment flashed as it struck home. But the magician's body still snapped forward as the Dwemer missile plunged into his back.

Lightning flew from the magician's hand and scorched into one of the walls. He fell to his hands and knees, coughing up blood. With shaking fingers Methredhel yanked another arrow from the bag at her hip and set it to the nock. This wasn't at all like shooting at a straw target, she thought with a pounding heart. If she missed, she would be dead in seconds.

The magician staggered to his feet and turned to face her. Then the soft feathers of her arrow tickled Methredhel's cheek. A moment later it was in flight, piercing the magician's Shield enchantment as it had before.

The sorcerer crumpled like a sack of wet potatoes with the arrow embedded in his chest, just slightly left of center. The skeleton vanished with a swirl of purple energy, leaving only Methredhel and the soldier in the tomb.

"Teresa, is that you?" the legionary's voice came through ragged breaths. He stepped closer, sword still at the ready. She knew that she was still swathed in darkness. But in a moment he would be close enough to see her in spite of that.

Picturing Secunda passing behind Masser, Methredhel called up her magicka. Letting the energy flow through that image, she vanished just as surely as the small moon disappeared behind the shadow of the larger.

Let him think it was Teresa, the thief prayed as she scampered for the sewer grate. Or at least let him wonder who it really was. Just so long as no one ever learned that she had saved the life of a legionary!
hazmick
Methredhel is awesome! Magicka and a bow?! She should become Teresa's sidekick.

Anyway, this chapter was great, you did a wonderful job of describing the necropolis from a different perspective and that Necromancer was no match for a Nord and a Bosmer. biggrin.gif
mALX
Getting the set-up of everything from Methredhel's perspective outside the tomb was inspired - and like her, I was surprised to see her saving Vols - Awesome Write !!!

RE: your comment response - Nothing says love like murder, ROFL !!
Thomas Kaira
And Vols has a new guardian angel! That was a very noble action for Methredhel; and who said there was no honor among thieves?. ph34r.gif

QUOTE
The robed man passed his hand over the door with a flash of golden light, and a moment later the three entered the tomb. An unlocking spell, the wood elf realized. One of these days she would have to try learning that. Still, lock picks were more artistic, she mused, they required skill and dexterity. Anyone could wave a hand and throw magic around. It took real talent to do it the old-fashioned way like she did.


Yeah, yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night, eh? tongue.gif

Still, old habits die hard, and it draws less attention not having the door flashing different colors, so I can see your point.

Nit?
QUOTE
Picturing Secunda passing behind Masser, Methredhel called up her magicka. Letting the energy flow through that image, she vanished just as surely as the small moon disappeared behind the shadow of the larger

Secunda is actually in front of Masser (very easy detail to miss, and I'll totally understand if you decide against changing it).
Destri Melarg
First Teresa and now Methredhel, Adanrel seems to be losing all of her friends to the Imperial Legion! tongue.gif I wonder what she would make of Methredhel’s actions.

The emotional complexity of this chapter was just great. First Simplicia, now Vols. Despite her own vested interest, Methredhel can’t help but act on Teresa’s behalf. That is a bond of love that is far more binding than mere words. I am sure that when Teresa hears of her ‘intervention’ from Vols, she will immediately know whose hand really wielded the bow. After all, Methredhel did teach her to shoot, if memory serves.
Olen
Exciting last couple of parts. The contrast between the fight against the thug and Dreth and that with the necromancer was well done and shows how much more dangerous some enemies are than others. And the necromancer himself was certainly an unexpected addition, but quite a natural one.

And then the combination of loyalties here is, as Destri said, complex. So Vols kills for Simplicia who still holds a grude against him, though she trusts him enough to ask his help, Meth dislikes all the legion but will help him anonymously for Teresa who is unwittingly in the certre of this web and safely out the way. Very intricate and realistic.

And perhaps not a cliffy but there's pleanty of unanswered questions I want to see the resolution to wink.gif

One phrase which seemed a bit off:
sack of wet potatoes - wet stuck me as strange, do sacks of potatoes behave differently when wet?
Acadian
This was brilliant! Ending the last episode in the middle of action from Vols' pov, only to open this from Methredhel's pov was so wonderfully effective and clever! smile.gif

That her fox does not emit any pink glow was a wonderful observation!

I enjoyed Meth's take on lockpicks and her use of detect life spells. I quite liked how she vanished using her special power at the end of the scene!

Two aspects of Meth's archery stood out:
1. She is an accomplished archer and it is clear that she had a strong influence on Teresa's ability and style with a bow.
2. She is not used to combat archery and having to shoot under pressure to survive - like Teresa now is.

So. . . little Methie is another who would stand up and lie, "I'm not a hero!" Seriously, the way you portray her is so very Methredhel. You have developed her to the point that her logic and actions make perfect sense from her perspective.

Nit:
'As she watched, the soldier parried a bow of the skeleton's long blade, then kicked the undead creature in the ribs, snapping one in half and causing it to stagger back for a moment.'
I think you meant blow instead of bow here?
SubRosa
hazmick: Teresa would love to explore the wilds of Cyrodiil with Methredhel at her side. Sadly, as we saw in Old Friends, Not Forgotten, Methie is a city girl at heart.


mALX: There has been a lot of pov shifts in this chapter. In this case it was necessary to write this part from Methredhel's perspective, because if I had stayed with Vols the entire scene it would have left too many unanswered questions about who the mysterious archer was who shows up and shoots the necromancer.


Thomas Kaira: I did not know that Secunda was closer in orbit than Masser. It doesn't really say anything on the wiki page about the moons. I think I am going to keep it this way, as otherwise I would have to come up with another explanation for why the Moonshadow power gets its name. To be honest, the two moons in ES is something I hate, because I understand how our one moon works, and know the mythology associated with it. With two moons, all that goes out the window.


Destri Melarg: If Adanrel ever found out, I imagine Methie would get the same treatment as Teresa! You definitely nailed it on all the character's motivations. Each of them has a strong emotional bond somewhere that drives them. That is one of the reasons I really enjoyed this chapter. Once you have characters with well-established relationships, it makes it possible to use them to drive the story. Much better than a merchant hires a stranger to investigate a shady businessman.


Olen: One of the reasons I did not hesitate to write this chapter, even though it is sans Teresa, is that throughout it we continue to see her as a uniting force behind the three main characters. I am still uncertain about writing a Morcant-only chapter because that will not be the case.

The "sack of wet potatoes" is an Americanism I think. Possibly because if it is wet, it is heavier? In any case, I have heard it enough times that it just spat out of my keyboard as I was writing.


Acadian: Indeed, Methredhel is the one who taught Teresa to shoot a bow. As your keen eye noted, Methie is not used to shooting people however, where Teresa now is. In fact, I imagine this is the first time she has ever killed anyone. She would most definitely deny being a hero! It would be bad for her reputation after all! biggrin.gif

Looks like the King of Worms appropriated the Skeleton Hero's "L", thanks for conjuring it up for me.


Next: Our previous episode saw the necromancer slain by Methredhel, who vanished before Vols could learn her identity. Next we wrap up this chapter as Simplicia confronts Thoronir.


Chapter 25.9 – Unfriendly Competition

"What's wrong Thoronir, didn't get much sleep last night?" Simplicia asked with a smile.

"Oh, I suppose I was up late," the pudgy Bosmer replied with a yawn. He stared across his counter at the old woman, and she could see the light of recognition dawn in his eyes. "Hey, you're Simplicia. You work for that Jensine don't you?"

"That's right," the aged Imperial leaned across the counter in the back of The Copius Coinpurse. "I wasn't expecting you to be up so early this morning. What with you meeting Dreth at midnight. But then he never showed, did he?"

The fat wood elf's eyes became wide as saucers, and his jaw nearly fell to the top of the counter. "How…, I…, what?..." he sputtered.

"Oh I know all about that," Simplicia smiled once more. "But you probably don't want anyone else knowing do you?" The Imperial paused to look back and forth around the interior of the shop. Even as early as eight bells, there were already half-a-dozen shoppers within.

"Ummm, let's talk somewhere more, private." With a trembling hand the Bosmer motioned Simplicia to follow him behind the counter and into a storeroom. The old Imperial took her time lumbering after the elf, and took care not to step all the way into the room. Instead she remained in the doorway, still in plain view of the other people in the shop.

"You sure get a lot of customers," Simplicia noted dryly. "But I guess with prices as low as yours, most people think shopping here is a steal."

"Listen, I don't know what you've heard, but I assure you that it's not-"

"Plug it fatso," Simplicia declared with a wave of her hand. "Play dumb with me and I'll go straight to the Imperial Legion. I know all about your little deal with Dreth. How he was robbing tombs and selling you everything inside. Did he tell you that he was selling the corpses to a necromancer too? I am sure a magistrate would love to hear about your involvement in that."

"Oh good gods!" the shopkeeper groaned, and his eyes somehow grew even wider. "You have to believe me, I didn't know what he was doing, or where it all came from. I swear! He came to me one day and said he had goods on the cheap, so I bought them."

"I'm not stupid, and neither is the legion," Simplicia declared, making as if to leave.

"Wait!" the Bosmer pleaded. "I only came here from Valenwood a few months ago. I always dreamed about the Imperial City. Everyone talks about how big and grand it is. The center of culture in Tamriel! And it is! But things are so different here from back home. I still don't know how you Imperial's do things here in Cyrodiil. So when Dreth came to me at first I believed him. By the time I started to suspect, it was too late. He's a madman! He would have killed me if I tried to back out, or tell the legion. He'll kill you too if you cross him."

"He won't be killing anyone," Simplicia said. "Not with his head split open like ripe melon.

"What?" the Bosmer said, looking genuinely relieved. "You mean he's dead?"

"The Imperial Legion caught him in the act last night," Simplicia said. "He put up a fight. They killed him. But they didn't get his ledger."

"His what?" the wood elf blinked, "what ledger?"

"He recorded every sale he made to you." Simplicia drew forth Dreth's ledger and held it open. "He has every tomb he plundered, everything he took described in detail, and every reman you paid for it all. If a magistrate sees this, you'll be going to prison for a long time."

"Wait, give me that!" the Bosmer reached out for the book.

But Simplicia was ready for him. Snapping the book shut, she clutched it to her breast and stepped back fully into the front of the shop.

"One more step and I scream," she cautioned, "then everyone will find out."

The wood elf's shoulders slumped, and Simplicia almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

"Alright, if you haven't turned me in yet, what is it you want from me?" he sighed.

"A Thief's Bag," the old woman declared.

"A what?" the shopkeeper frowned, "what's that?"

"It's a bag with a Feather enchantment," Simplicia explained, "and its bigger on the inside than the outside. Thieves use them so they can steal more."

"You mean a Bag of Holding? But something like that will cost a fortune!" the Bosmer cried. "I'm just a struggling shopkeeper. I'm not rich!"

"You'll manage," Simplicia declared. "Just raise you prices. Say to the same as Jensine's?"

"Okay, okay," the Bosmer held up his hands in defeat. "Just give me some time to get the money together."

"I'll be back in one week," Simplicia said. "Give me the bag, and I'll give you the ledger. Otherwise I'm going to leave it under a magistrate's pillow."
mALX
This chapter has to be added to my favorites - Awesome Write !!! I was tickled to see your version of Thoronir - after the original denial, admitting knowledge of where the goods came from.

In game that quest irked me, because if you listen to the conversation between Agamir and Thoronir - it is obvious Thoronir did know something. Then when you confront him and he denies it, you are supposed to believe him - and not believe your own eyes and ears. - always bothered me that his denial was accepted, your version makes much more sense.

Next, Simplicia. I think Methredhel is about to get a nice thank you present. - Your portrayal of any of your characters is great, but with Teresa and Simplicia you take that gift to much greater heights and depths. There is no way anyone is not jumping on their seats and rooting for Simplicia through this questline - Awesome Write !!!

There were too many places I loved in here to quote !!! Simplicia, that ledger, and Thoronir - that whole section could be one huge quote - AWESOME !!!!
hazmick
Simplicia was amazing! Thoronir better do what he's told. biggrin.gif

Great write, more soon please! biggrin.gif
Destri Melarg
So Simplicia is not above a touch of blackmail, eh? I like how she maintained her awareness in the shop, and kept in full view of witnesses. I also love how her motivations are not strictly altruistic. It is easy to see how she managed to survive (and raise a tiny Wood Elf) for all those years on the street. Assuming that the bag is for Methredhel, it seems as if Simplicia is finally ready to bury the hatchet. Nothing says thank you like ‘I may not condone what you do, but here’s something to help you do it better.’ Teresa won’t be the only one with stories to tell when they are reunited.
Thomas Kaira
(On the topic of the moons)

It's a lot easier to notice that in Morrowind, actually. In Oblivion, you rarely see both moons in the night sky together at all, about 80% of the time, it's just Masser.

(Back on topic)

This version of Unfriendly Competition was much more convincing than the one in the game. In game all that happened here was you show him the ledger and he responds with a simple "Oops! Well, better not do that again, eh? hubbahubba.gif" Now we can actually see emotions at play and relate to him as he realizes his misdeeds, and the build-up was wonderful!

QUOTE
"You sure get a lot of customers," Simplicia noted dryly. "But I guess with prices as low as yours, most people think shopping here is a steal."

*rimshot*

Sorry, I'll stop that now. Hearing all these bad puns must just sting.

(Thomas Kaira has been carried away by the joke police)
Acadian
Simplicia really shows us her street smarts here. The interaction with Thoronir was perfect, and Simplica played him superbly.

Recalling Simplicia's dressing down of Methie's 'virginal virtue' in Jensine's shop, then seeing her plug old fatso here demonstrates that the sharpness of Simplicia's tongue can match her wit when she's of such a mind.

The Thief's Bag is a wonderful idea. While I agree with others who suspect Methie is the intended recipient, I don't completely rule out that Simplicia might consider it for her adventurous little Teresa to ease her burden.

Speaking of Teresa - while we of course miss her, this is such a delightful detour into a familiar, but much enriched quest. I know you will not keep us away from Teresa for too long. And as you say, she is fully present, if not in person in this storyline.

The romantic in me yearns for more closure between Simplicia and Vols, but I am delighted to read where you take me. happy.gif
SubRosa
mALX: One of the downsides to Oblivion is that many of the quests only have one or two ways of playing out. Here there is no way of fingering Thoronir. Or for that matter, just going to the Imperial Watch when you find out what is going on and having them take care of Agarmir (which seems like the obvious solution. You could just walk up to one of the gate guards and say "hey, there's someone robbing that grave over there!").

On the other hand, I can definitely say that Methredhel is not getting that bag.


hazmick: Simplicia really struts her stuff here, and shows all of her street smarts. A far cry from the kindly old "Aunt May" she may have seemed in the earlier chapters, when we were seeing her through Teresa's eyes.


Destri Melarg: Simplicia is definitely not above blackmail! As a former prostitute, former drug addict, and former homeless beggar, there is not much she is above. She may be ready to bury the hatchet however. It is certainly harder for her not to after Methie doing her such a good turn, especially when as you say, Teresa is regaled on this story!


Thomas Kaira: I tried to portray Thoronir as essentially a regular guy who got in way over his head. Something that happens all too often with tragic results IRL. I am glad it feels convincing.


Acadian: I see another person thinking that the bag is probably for Methie. I am thinking it is because I called it a Thief's Bag, which would be the slang term that street people like Simplicia would use for a Bag of Holding. I went back and put in "Bag of Holding" in one spot in the hopes of making it seem like something that people other than thieves would use.

I am not sure how much closure, if any, we will ever see between Vols and Simplicia. Just as IRL, things do not always end happily in the TF.


All: I took a word count of all the TF up to chapter 30, which is as far as I have written, and it is 250,221 words. A quarter million words. I never imagined I would ever write so much about any character. In fact it is probably more than everything else I have ever written in my life all put together. I can definitely say has been great practice. When I go back to edit the early chapters I wrote, I can see the difference it has made.


Next: The previous chapter saw Simplicia investigate and stop a grave-robber in the Imperial City, saving her own job in the process and being helped by Methredhel and Volsinius. Now we shift our focus back to the stringy Bosmer as she makes her way to Bravil.


Chapter 26.1 – The Fighter

24th Last Seed, 3E433

The faint gurgling of water came to Teresa's ears as she made her way through the forest. It was a river, she thought, hopefully the Larsius. That was the only waterway her map showed in the Nibenay Valley. She followed the direction of the sound. She knew that no matter what river it was, it would eventually lead her to the Niben, and that in turn to Bravil.

The forester still took the time to move quietly however, scanning the underbrush in every direction as she moved from tree to tree. She had not seen a trace of outlaws during her journey from The Faregyl Inn. Still, her encounter on the shores of Lake Rumare was never far from her mind.

The sight of a familiar plant gave her pause however. Its green stem rose high from the ground, nearly to her knees. Several flowers sprouted from the trunk and drooped down from their weight. Each bore a brilliant yellow beak that protruded from its center, with slender purple leaves radiating in a star around it.

Ahh, my old friend nightshade, Teresa thought with a faint smile, so good to see you again.

She produced a small trowel and began digging up its roots. She knew that they were the most poisonous part of the plant. Those she tucked away in a small bag with other nightshade roots, and then packed that into a larger sack filled with other alchemical ingredients. When she was finished she took the seeds from the flower bulbs and buried them in the soil around the spot. Then she was off through the woods again, once more looking carefully for any signs of trouble.

The moist smell of water came to her nose in no time at all, and the ground began to gently slope down before her. However, she paused several times to harvest more plants. First was mandrake. Those would be handy if she came down with something, or would fetch a good price. There was always a demand for Cure Disease potions after all. Then there was lavender, which she knew was good for Healing potions, not to mention smelling wonderful.

Then Teresa was on her way again, slowly making her way through the forest. In time she came upon a river, over a hundred feet wide, slowly meandering to her left. Glancing to the right, she could see that the ground sloped up to a range of low mountains. That must be where the river's headwaters were, she imagined.

The range was nothing compared to the Jerall Mountains north of Cheydinhal and Bruma. Even at their highest, these peaks were crowned by green trees, and bore not even a hint of snow. She imagined that she could climb them without the need of picks, crampons, or ropes. Rather it looked as if she could just walk right up them. She resolved to come back after she discovered Bravil, and find out.

Following the river downstream for the rest of the day, Teresa continued to gather plants. She saw no signs of civilization, which suited her just fine. It was just her, the trees, and the many animals of the forest. Deer, wild pigs, foxes, raccoons, and others prowled the riverbanks. Once she saw a grizzly bear eating a fish next to the water's edge. This she gave a wide berth, even though it paid her no heed at all. Petting a summoned bear was one thing, but a wild one still gave the wood elf pause.

In the water itself Teresa found beavers working on their dome-shaped lodges of branches, and otters chasing one another in the deeper water in the middle of the river. The latter brought the wood elf more than a faint smile, and on several occasions she stopped to just watch the animals going about their daily lives.

The forester continued on her way the next morning, and noted that the river was flowing into the rising sun. Good, she thought, that meant it was going from west to east, the same as the Larsius did on the map. She also realized that it was now wider than it had been before, and imagined it must be well over two hundred feet across now.

Within a few hours the familiar smell of wood smoke came to her nose. Continuing along the river, Teresa passed a bend in its course. Then she found herself staring across the river at a quaint little village of some thirty or forty homes at the water's edge. They were made of small, carefully-fitted stones and roofed with thatch. A simple wooden fence that was barely chest high surrounded the landward side of the settlement, and the wood elf imagined it was more to keep livestock in than to keep threats out.

The wheel of a mill turned slowly at the water's edge, and Teresa also saw several wooden docks jutting from the shore beside the village. Some had small rowboats tied to them. A few rode the waves in the center of the river, where their two-woman crews cast nets into the water. More people bustled about within the village, and Teresa could see a few stop and point in her direction. Most were women or children, or very old men, and Teresa wondered if the rest of the men were off working somewhere?

Just beyond the village, a graceful stone bridge reached across both banks of the river. Teresa could see that a paved road ran away from it on her side of the water, following the river to the east. While on the opposite bank the cobblestones of the thoroughfare ran directly south, disappearing behind the village.

Behind that, the high, grey stone walls of a major city rose into the sky. Square crenellations dotted the top of the walls like blunt teeth, and numerous towers rose like horns above them. Rising high above all was the needle spire of the chapel, stretching into the blue sky at least three times as high as the walls encircling the city.

That must be Bravil, Teresa thought. It was simply too big to be anything else.

Screenshot

No longer able to resist the temptation of the river, the wood elf plunged into its inviting waves. The water enfolded her in a cool embrace, and the forester began to leisurely swim across its length. Thanks to the Jewel of the Rumare, she had no difficulty, even with the leather armor, pack, bedroll, and bowstave she carried.

Now more of the villagers took notice of her, and several were waiting for her on the riverbank when she emerged from the water beside the village.

"Hey, she's not wet!" a boy who could not be older than six years exclaimed, pointing at Teresa. He had the olive skin, black hair, and dark eyes of a Nibenean, Teresa noted, as did most everyone else in the settlement. Beside him stood a girl who might have been slightly older, also with the same dark eyes and hair.

"Quintis, it's not polite to point," a man with a long grey beard chided the youngster. Tufts of grey hair clung to the side of his head, but his scalp as bare as an egg right down the middle. His face was lined and weather-beaten, and his hands bore the calluses of a laborer. Like the others, he wore simple clothing of worn flax. The same as nearly every other farmer or fisherman that Teresa had encountered in her travels.

"Welcome to Silverbridge," the bearded man continued, now turning to Teresa. "I am Decimus Rabirius, and these are my grandchildren: Quintis and Poppea Silanus. I keep an eye on them while their father and older brothers work in the fields."

"Greetings Decimus. You have a beautiful village here," the wood elf smiled faintly. Putting her hands on her knees, she squatted down so that she was at eye level with the children, and looked at each in turn. "Well met Quintis, Poppea. My name is Teresa. I'm a forester. I just walked down from the Imperial City."

"You have pretty hair," Poppea declared. "But how come you're not wet?"

"It's magic," Teresa answered. "A fisherman once gave me a ring that lets me breathe underwater, and keeps me dry as well. That way my leather does not get ruined. I have to take it off so I can take a bath though."

"Now that's a handy trick," the old man observed. "You're the most exciting thing we've had around here since Gaius Varro found a silver nugget in the river the other week."

"Oh, I'm hardly that interesting," Teresa felt a familiar warmth blossom on her cheeks. "I'm just an ordinary elf. Did your village get its name because there's silver in the river?"

"There used to be," the old man explained. "But that was a long time ago. There was a big mine further upriver. It all played out about two decades ago though. Afterward all us miner's left, or settled down here and became farmers. Once in a blue moon someone still pulls a lump of silver out of the river, but it's not worth the effort if that's what you're thinking."

"Oh no," Teresa breathed, realizing that she was probably sounding like a greedy outsider. "I'm looking for Bravil. That's it behind the village right? I have some plants to mix up into potions, and a mage from the guild to see."

"Aye, Bravil it is lass," the old man replied. "So it's a magician you are then? You looked more of a hunter or trapper."

"Oh no, I would never hurt any animals," Teresa exclaimed. "I just gather plants. I am an archer though, and I know how to mix up potions is all."

"What kind of forester doesn't kill animals?" the boy asked.

"The kind that loves them too much," Teresa answered without thinking. "The animals are my friends. You wouldn't hurt your friends would you."

"But you carry a bow," the girl observed. "What's that for then?"

"For the times when others want to hurt me," Teresa stated plainly.

"And that is how it should be," the old man nodded sagely. "Always greet others with kindness and hospitality, and be prepared in case they don't return the favor. Then he set his hands upon the shoulders of the children. "Come now, let's not bother the kind woman any further and allow her to be on her way."

"Oh it's okay," Teresa smiled faintly once more. "I like meeting good-hearted folk, especially when they live close to the land, as you do here. I really should get to the city for now though. Maybe I'll come by tomorrow, or the day after, and Poppea and Quintis can try out my ring?"

"Oh can I!" Both children nearly leapt at once, and the old man barely restrained them from tackling Teresa.

"Why not?" he said. "We can catch some fish in the river, and all have lunch together. How does that sound ma'am?"

"That sounds wonderful," Teresa breathed. Mara above, she thought, what a lovely village Silverbridge was. She had only been there a few minutes, and was already making friends.
hazmick
Beautifully done 'Rosa. I think you may have just summed up the reasons why I love Oblivion: the beautiful scenery, kind-hearted folk and the sense of adventure. biggrin.gif Silverbridge is wonderful, as are the residents which you have brought to life so quickly and amazingly! Bravo!

I hope Teresa will return to Silverbridge soon and give us some more of those beautiful screenshots! laugh.gif
Olen
Great stuff.

25.9 - well that I didn't see coming: blackmail from Simplicia. She showed some inner steel (and nastiness) there and that she is willing to do distinctly morally grey things to help Teresa, for whom I guess the bag is meant for. Still it does entirly make sense, with her background and success in rasing Teresa she must be tough but before we'd only seen her motherly side through Teresa's eyes.

26.1 - I liked the world building in this part. Gathering the plant gave a glimpse into what she spends her time doing without bogging anything down. I liked the nod towards the differnt parts of the plant having different properties, it adds more realism. Another nice realistic touch was that she doesn't really know where she is, the maps aren't going to be that great and I notice there aren't compasses so it makes sense, like so many other little touches in this. And Silverbridge sounds like a lovely place.

I'm very much looking forward to seeing how you portrey Bravil, particularly if Teresa notices anything about a particular statue.
Acadian
*contented sigh* This was a lovely episode. I'm so glad you kept the name Silverbridge. wink.gif

When Teresa says she is a forester, you have beautifully and consistently backed that up throughout TF. Why in this episode alone, she can be seen giving a wide berth to the grizzly, happily watching the beaver and otters, and carefully harvesting the ingredients she needs, even while replanting the seeds.

That is indeed a handy ring she has!

I so hope Teresa enjoys her time in and near Bravil. smile.gif

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