Delightful dinner. Nothing wrong with crab and fried rice!

I loved how you constructed Bravil's past. Remind me to steal it.

More Argonian seasoning? Bah, you Bravilians put it in everything!


Not a nit, but an observation of experience. You are under no obligation to change this, and I would also suggest you don't as not many people know this.
You don't want to stir sauce once it comes to a simmer, it knocks the heat from the liquid and as a result takes longer to cook. So long as you maintain a gentle simmer, the sauce will not burn at all. Ever.

I think I hid the answer properly --> Pride & Prejudice!! Collinsus!

What a beautiful scene around the table with a very different family this time. That fried rice sounds delicious, and it reminded me that I forgot to eat my own dinner. A possible new home for Teresa, how exciting! A farm is a great place to grow alchemey ingredients.

I got such a nice warm feeling reading this!!

Awww its so true! I love babies, even when they're messy ♥




Is that how they're made? I've always wondered as they've become a recent hit in our family









Well, she managed to do a good job with it. Best part about grace is that it doesn't have to be a great sermon, just a simple thanks.




Exactly.




Awwww! ♥





Could it be?? The home she wanted for Simplicia

Hmmm, sounds tasty. I also noticed that you've added eggs to her diet, always a good thing. I also sense that she might have found somewhere for Simplicia to retire...

It was interesting to see her in such a family environment, I suppose it will be a new thing for her, though she seems to be fitting in fine. I do rather wonder how it came about though.

haute ecole rider: Maybe the soju comes from what Teresa does on the chamber pot?


ghastley: Looks like a hungry farmer ate that a. Thank you for rustling up a new one.


Acadian: Teresa is going to have to learn to cook, if she is going to be living in a house in the country someday. There are no hot food stands out there after all. Hence her decision to learn. I also lay odds on her acquiring that house before a husband!


Thomas Kaira: Why do you think that named that stuff after Niben Bay? It is great on everything!

Thank you for the simmering observation. I was able to use it to go back and add in a little something about it.


Grits: You got it! P&P all the way. Look for more Jane Austen references in the future.


Jacki Dice: I love other people's kids. I doubt I could handle it if I had to raise them round the clock though! My cat is a handful as it is!

It does indeed look like Teresa found the perfect house to buy for Simplicia!


Olen: Teresa's dinner is all an outgrowth of the relationship she began with Decimus and the two kids way back at the beginning of chapter 25, when she first came to Silverbridge.


Next: In our previous episode, Teresa made a nice dinner in Silverbridge, and learned that Decimus' old house might be for sale. Next we return to Bravil a day later, where Teresa is thinking about making another meal.


Chapter 31.2 - Inheritance


"So, who wants to stay for dinner tonight?" Teresa asked from the doorway of the guild house's sitting room.

The common area sat just off the vestibule, and had a wide window looking out onto the street in front of the building. The room was lit by glowstones set into wall sconces, and was furnished with tables of polished oak, stuffed couches, and padded chairs. A small bookcase rose along one wall, and a fireplace with an elegant marble mantle dominated another. Vincent and Chance sat at a small, round table playing cards. Ancondil lounged in a chair, picking at his lute and looking down at a sheet of music laid out on the low table before him. Last of all Tadrose sat alone along a wide couch by the window, engrossed in a book.

"Pappy is showing me how to make stuffed cabbage," Teresa continued.

"More grazing?" Vincent rolled his eyes from behind the cards he held. "No thanks."

"I'm seeing someone over at Silverhome On The Water," Chance declared, then laid down his cards. "Full castle, Queens over twos!" The Breton sitting across from him dropped his cards in disgust, and the Redguard pulled the pot of copper remans across the table, to join the small pile already in front of him.

"Well I should be delighted to partake." Ancondil looked up from his lute to smile at Teresa. Then he dropped his head back to his sheet music, and plucked away at the lute once more.

"How about you Tadrose?" Teresa stepped over to the dark elf, who looked up with surprise as the forester approached.

"I am sorry Teresa, I was a bit caught up." The Dunmer smith set the book down into her lap and gazed up at Teresa with a smile. "Of course I will stay for dinner."

"So what is that you are reading?" Teresa asked, turning her head so that she could see the book's title better.

"Persuasion," the dark elf declared, "By Juno Austenius."

"Oh that is playing at The Globe, isn't it?" Teresa thought out loud. Then before she knew it, her tongue ran away with itself. "Why don't we go see it tonight after dinner?"

Teresa instantly bit her lip, wishing she had not said a word. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Ancondil looking at her with a barely concealed grin. Thank Aetherius the other two men were too occupied with their card game to notice, Teresa thought, else Vincent would probably start hooting.

"I think that would be wonderful." Tadrose smiled, and the wood elf felt her heart leap higher than Magnus overhead. "I did not know you enjoyed Juno Austenius?"

"Of course!" Teresa said quickly, sitting beside Tadrose and setting her wineglass on a nearby table. "Who doesn't? I've seen all her plays." She saw Ancondil shaking his head with lips tightly pursed, and knew she had put her foot in her mouth.

"She was a novelist my dear," Tadrose whispered, too low for anyone else to hear. "People only starting adapting her work for the theater a century ago."

"Oh," Teresa looked down at her lap, certain that her face was redder than a boiled lobster. Then she felt Tadrose's hand touch her own. Looking up, she saw a crooked smile playing across the other woman's features, and her eyes glowing like Masser on a clear night.

"Would you like me to read you some?" Tadrose said. "I think you will enjoy it. It is all terribly romantic, but has a sense of ironic humor most people do not expect."

"Oh no!" Vincent groaned from across the room. "Let's get out of here before they start knitting doilies!"

"Oh come now!" Ancondil finally did speak once more. "Juno Austenius is one of the most beloved Imperial writers to have ever lived. It has been four centuries since she died, and her works are still counted among the finest literature Cyrodiil has ever produced."

"I don't know the first thing about literature," Chance grinned, "but I saw that play the other night with Eutropia from castle. I tell you what, it made her wetter than the Niben!"

"Did someone say wet?"

Teresa looked up with the others as the sound of the husky voice. Standing in the doorway leading to the vestibule was an Argonian with light red scales on his face, except for two small slices of green that rose from either side of his nostrils. He wore a dark green tunic over a pair of trousers, and a gently curved sword hung at his hip. The grip was wrapped in crisscrossing patterns of cloth, and the pommel was engraved with the snarling face of an eastern dragon.

Screenshot

"Storm-Tail!" Tadrose exclaimed, rising to her feet with a smile. "When did you get to Bravil? I thought you were at school in the Imperial City?"

"This one has left the academy of numbers," the Argonian - whom Teresa could tell was young from the bright shade of his scales - shifted uncomfortably. "He has come to see Commander Vitellus."

Teresa wondered who the Argonian was. Tadrose obviously knew him, but the other fighters all had stares as blank as her own. So clearly they did not know him either. Turning her gaze back to Tadrose, the forester saw that her eyes fell to the sword at the Argonian's hip, before rising once more to his face. Her eyes widened for a moment, before a dark look clouded her features.

"Oh no, you are not going to join the guild!" she declared.

"This one has reached the age of majority," the Argonian - Storm-Tail - insisted. "He may do as he wills."

"Does your mother know you are here?" Tadrose's hands fell to her hips, and Teresa was glad she was not in the Argonian's scales. "Have you told her about this? Have you thought about what this will do to her?"

"This one has a duty to his father's memory." The Argonian swallowed hard, and his tail twitched nervously. Yet his orange eyes did not falter under Tadrose's burning stare. "This one must follow where the father has led."

"Where he has led?" Tadrose fumed. "Do you want to see where it led? Go to Bruma, look at the graves! Is that what you want?"

"Storm-Tail will speak with Commander Vitellus," the Argonian insisted once more. Teresa admired his determination. She was not sure if she could stand up to Tadrose's fury, even as carefully leashed as it was now.

The Dunmer opened her mouth to reply, then closed it again. Shaking her head, she swept from the room and beckoned for the Argonian to follow.

"So what was that all about?" Chance muttered. "I thought she was going to strangle him."

Teresa shrugged her shoulders, and Ancondil did the same. But it was Vincent who spoke next.

"I think I know," the Breton said quietly. "I've never met him before, but I've heard his name a few times. He's the son of one of the old guild members: Morning-Star. That was his father's sword he was wearing. I saw it once before, at Bruma."

Teresa felt the glowstone ignite in her mind. Bruma, she thought, Storm-Tail's father had died there. Now the son was following in his footsteps. No wonder Tadrose had been so exasperated.

"The shadow of your father can be a hard thing to escape," Ancondil murmured. "A hard thing indeed."

Teresa blinked, and saw Chance nodding in unison. "What are you talking about?" she breathed. "Can you imagine how his mother feels? First her husband dies, and now her son is queuing up to be next?"

Mara, what did Simplicia think? Teresa thought. Wasn't she doing the same?

"You don't know what it's like to be overshadowed by a father," Chance offered up, and Teresa wondered if his voice sounded hoarse, as if his throat were choking on the words. "Sometimes it's almost like you have to fight him, just to be a man in your own right."

'I never had any trouble like that," Vincent offered. "My father's a fisherman, and with three other sons, he's glad one of us found a trade on dry land. Granted my mum's not too happy about it all. But mothers always worry about everything."

"What about you?" Chance looked Teresa in the eye. "What does your mother think about you being in the guild. You said you're doing all this for her, didn't you?"

"It's complicated..." Teresa stared down at the wineglass in her hands. Gods, what a hypocrite they must all think she was!

"Complicated does not begin to explain it all, I am afraid," Ancondil said. "It is not an easy thing to make your own way in the world, especially when your parents have your entire life all planned out before you are six. To walk a different road can be hard indeed. Yet I do not imagine it is any easier when the position is reversed. Can any of us imagine what it would like having a son or daughter in this business? Knowing that they are placing themselves in danger with every contract, and able to do nothing but sit by and pray for their well-being?"

"Yeah, my mother and I argued before I left Sentinel," Chance breathed, his eyes looking hollow. "I said some things I shouldn't have. But I just couldn't stay there any more, not after… Anyway, my father's somewhere here in Cyrodiil. And someday I'm going to find him."

"Really?" Vincent asked. "I thought your parents were both in Hammerfell?"

"No," the Redguard said. "My father had to leave years ago. Every now and then he sends a letter to let us know he is alive. The last one came a few months ago. He said he'd joined up with a band of outlaws, and they were camped out in some ruin called Vilverin. Wherever in Oblivion that is."

The glass fell from Teresa's numb fingers and shattered on the hardwood floor, spraying its red contents across the boards.

"You didn't say Vilverin?" she breathed. She knew that her eyes must be as wide as saucers, and she felt her heart racing like a Quarter Horse. No, it couldn't be, she thought. Chance's father couldn't be one of the bandits she found there. Could he?

"Yes," the Redguard leaped to his feet and was across the room in a flash. "What do you know about it? You've been there, haven't you?"

Teresa nodded and bit her lip as she stared down at red pool of wine that stained the floor. How on Nirn was she going to tell him what she had found in Vilverin? How could anyone tell someone that their father was dead?

"His name's Destri," the Redguard continued. "Did you see him?"

With that something Morcant had once said floated up from the depths of memory. "His name was Destri," the Witch had said. "He was just here a week ago. He had gotten stonejoint from a rat that bit him. I cured him for that suit of armor there."

"What did he look like?" Teresa asked, trying to stall for time while she gathered her thoughts. It had been Chance's father that had made the armor Morcant had traded to her. The same armor that had saved her life in the Jensine's shop at the end of the Oblivion Crisis! By Raven, she thought, this was just too much to be pure coincidence!

"Well, he looks like me," Chance said. "Older of course. He's almost forty now. He always had a beard that he kept trimmed real close, in a goatee, and he kept his hair cropped down short. So he's probably the same now. He has a Dwemer mace, it's been in the family since the days of Cyrus. There's a name written on it in elvish - Ncharcasti - although I'll be damned if I know what it means."

A Dwemer mace, Teresa thought. The male bandit she had found near Lake Rumare had carried a Dwemer mace. That same mace had been in Jensine's hand during the Crisis. The Nord had used it on the scamp that had clawed her legs, and the clannfear that had nearly eaten her.

"Chance, if your father was with a group of outlaws, and Teresa met him…" Ancondil said quietly. "Well, you know that could not have turned out well."

"No, I'm not the one who-" Teresa gasped and looked up at both men before her. "I mean I… I found him, and the others."

"What happened!" Chance leaned down and grabbed Teresa by the arms. His voice was raw, and filled with desperation. "What happened to my father!"

"I'm sorry Chance." Teresa looked down again. "It was over before I got there. There was nothing I could do."

"No!" Chance shouted. He shook Teresa, and she wished she had never opened her mouth. Better if he had never known, she imagined, never had to face this. "My father is not dead, do you hear me!"

"That's enough Chance." Ancondil's voice was iron, and with that the Redguard's grip fell away. Teresa looked back up to see that the muscle-bound orc now stood between her and the Redguard, his hands braced on the other man's shoulders. "Just take a moment to collect yourself."

"Take a moment!" the young human raged. He strained against Ancondil, but the larger Orisimer was a rock. "This is my father!"

Teresa rose to her feet, thinking of the Emperor. He had faced his own death without flinching. She could at least give Chance the news of his father's end with the same resolve. Stepping to Ancondil, she moved him aside with a simple touch, and stood before Chance.

"I first saw Vilverin the night the Emperor died." The Redguard's eyes looked like those of a caged animal as Teresa stared into them. "Even then, I knew that something was waiting for me there. So I went back about a week into Midyear. I found all the bandits dead. There was one by the lake, he was a Redguard, with a beard, and he had a Dwemer mace. It was the only Dwemer mace I found in the ruin."

"It was a necromancer that did it," she continued. "A Redguard named Jalbert. I tried to kill him, but he got away. A few days later I met a Witch who knew one of the bandits. She had cured him of a disease in trade for a suit of armor that he'd made. That same armor saved my life during the Crisis. She said his name was Destri."

"Take me there," Chance said resolutely. "I need to see it."

Talk about coming full circle! Now we go way back to the beginning? And so the subtle strands of fate begin to weave together in a more subtle tapestry.

Delightful, and compelling. I want to see more of this!

I agree with Rider about the full circle!

"Full castle, Queens over twos!"
How much more 'TESier' this sounds than full house.

Oh, I've been meaning to say for some time now how much I enjoy the way your write Ancondil's speech. I'm sure it must be easier to do than Aia's, but it perfectly suits him and you are very consistent with it.

'Then before she knew it, her tongue ran away with itself. "Why don't we go see it tonight after dinner?"
Heh, this is such a perfect 'Teresa' moment. She can be quite adorable!

You've certainly opened a lot of new ways for this to go next. Storm-Tail, Chance, both pulling in different directions from where Teresa thought she was heading.

Eagerly awaiting the next episode to find out which one it will be.

I finally made it! Hopeless I am

Very interesting direction you have taken the story. Cooking and lutes and cards and all things domesticated! Teresa was never one that I would have picked, so it just goes to show that their is so much more going on beneath our little sewer waif. Awesome writing.

A Dwemer mace, Teresa thought. The male bandit she had found near Lake Rumare had carried a Dwemer mace. That same mace had been in Jensine's hand during the Crisis. The Nord had used it on the scamp that had clawed her legs, and the clannfear that had nearly eaten her.
I really enjoyed this. Tumbling...tumbling....down the rabbithole!

Well that was quite a part. The first bit with her asking Tadrose to the play was hilarious.


A common enough blunder. Though on the other hand it does rather confrim to Tadrose that Teresa's interested... Asking someone if they want to go somewhere is a rather different thing than then pretending to like what they like, and it seems Tadrose knows this.


I loved that line.

Then the much darker second part, though at least she didn't kill him. There's too much there to be coincidence, probably, it makes me wonder what part Chance has to play, I hope a good bit because he's very different from the other characters. I think Jalbert might appear again too (in fact might this be another section of the story beginging?).

Storm-tail is a fun character too, he brings things home for Teresa, but even better he's an argonain! Sounds like he had a lucky escape giving up on the academy of numbers too.

haute ecole rider: Ever since I wrote The Witch of Lake Trasimene and borrowed Destri's name, I have been waiting for this part to reveal that he was Chance's father. I just wish our own Destri was around these days to see just what I was doing with him!


Acadian: I was looking for a way to make poker seem more ES, so the full castle just seemed perfect. For the most part I get Ancondil's speech from early 19th century pieces, like Jane Austen's work. Basically he speaks like Darcy would (albeit without jumping into a pond first!).


Sir Graves ghastley: Unfortunately for Teresa that way will not be toward an evening with Tadrose!


Winter Wolf: Wolfie! Welcome back! Down the rabbithole indeed. Just as with the Oblivion Crisis, Teresa is seeing that her life is inexorably bound up with those of certain others.


Olen: I had a lot of fun writing Teresa pretending to know Juno Austenius and asking Tadrose out! You are right, Tadrose does indeed seem to appreciate the attention.

I had to work on the doilie line. At first I wanted Vincent to say something like "Chick Alert!" then go into the part about knitting. But I just could not make it sound setting-friendly. So in the end I had to drop the first part. I am glad it still works though!

Storm-Tail is another of those characters whom I set up way back, in this case in The Battle of Bruma, where we met his father Morning-Star.


Next: Teresa met a new member of the FG last chapter, and learned that Chance's father may have been one of the bandits she found at Vilverin. Next she sets sail up the Niben to find out if it is true.


Chapter 31.3 - Inheritance

Well, so much for the play, Teresa thought glumly, or her chance to make stuffed cabbage.

She stared at the waves that surrounded the small boat in which she sat. A coast filled with farmland and occasional fishing villages rose to the left, but to the right the glassy surface of Niben Bay went on forever. Chance sat before her at the prow of the sixteen foot dory in which they rode, while Aleron Loche was behind her at the tiller.

A sprit-rigged sail caught the wind above them, pulling the small craft to the north. Now that she was finally sitting in a dory, Teresa had a better view of the uneven, four-cornered sail that powered it. It looked like a malformed triangle, with an extra line in the front where the mast was. She could see that a spar ran up at a diagonal from the lower end of the mast. The head of the sail angled up from the top of the mast to join the tip of this spar, then gracefully swept down to the boat below. The bottom of the sail hung loose, with no boom at all to secure it.

At least that meant they did not have to worry about it swinging around and knocking them in the head, Teresa mused.

Screenshot

"I still think you're crazy for wanting to leave now," Aleron said. "It'll be dark in a few hours, we should wait until morning."

"The galleons sail through the river at night," Chance rumbled from the prow. "You can too."

"They have enough crew to man them around the clock," the pudgy Breton grumbled. "I have to sleep sometime. Besides, I can't see in the dark. This trip will be real quick if we run into rocks and rip out the hull!"

"You can wear my goggles," Teresa offered, digging them from her pack and handing them to the Breton. "They have a night eye enchantment."

The fisherman mumbled something about debts under his breath. He obviously had places he'd rather be. Teresa sympathized. She would rather have spent the evening with Tadrose than in a cramped boat with two men.

Since she already had her pack open, she drew forth a round loaf of bread and broke off a piece. Dipping it in a small jar of olive oil, she offered it to Aleron, then gave another piece to Chance, and finally took one for herself. They ate in silence, and the boat made its way north.

Teresa stared at the shore, watching the villages go by as they sailed on. It had been a nearly solid line of settlements and cultivated land just outside of Bravil. But as the hours slipped away, the villages thinned out, giving way to wider and wider patches of wilderness between them. By the time night was closing in the farms had disappeared altogether, and only the occasional fishing village rose from the shore.

Just like outside of Cheydinhal and Chorrol, Teresa mused. All the farms were nestled close to the protection of the city.

On they went through the darkness, and Teresa could understand Aleron's misgivings. With only the light of the stars above, the water had become a sheet of black satin. The shore had disappeared into the murk, and was now just a memory. It might be ten feet away for all the wood elf knew. Or it could be a mile distant. She had no idea either way.

Well at least Aleron could see with the goggles, Teresa mused as she spared a glance at the flabby Breton. She remembered her first day at the Fighters Guild. Tadrose had said that she had no idea how the Breton had been paying for his sword lessons. Now she knew. Pappy had made an arrangement with him to sail guild members around the Niben. Teresa wondered how many of their contracts and training sessions were like that? Not for money, but rather bartered for services in return.

Masser and Secunda were high in the sky by the time they pulled into shore and made a hasty camp. The dory which they sailed within was so small that Aleron had no need for a dock. He simply pulled the boat up onto the strand, and they rolled out their bedrolls beside it.

The fisherman was asleep and snoring within minutes. Chance fidgeted, and since he was clearly not going to be sleeping any time soon, Teresa suggested that he take the first watch. While he paced about the boat, she sat with her back against the hull of the dory.

She dug her hands into the loam beneath her and closed her eyes. Breathing deeply in and out, she journeyed to her Astral Temple. There she called upon the spirits of the land to show her the history of the place in which she sat. Thanks to them, she saw that they were now on the Upper Niben River, rather than in the bay. Other than that there was nothing unusual to see. The river flowed by and the trees swayed in the breeze. The winter snows came, followed by spring flowers, over and over again. Occasionally a ship sailed past. Life went on quietly in the wild.

Teresa woke as the sun inched over the horizon, to find Chance still pacing along the shore. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she yawned and stretched.

"You were supposed to wake me up for my turn on watch," she said as she rose to her feet.

"I figured I'd just let you sleep," the Redguard said. "I'd be up anyway."

Teresa nodded. How would she feel if someone had told her that Simplicia was dead? She probably would not be able to rest until she knew for certain if it was true or false.

"So what was your father like?" she said. She wanted to ask how he went from Hammerfell to being a bandit in Cyrodiil, but did not think it the best time to pry that deeply.

"He was the best father a kid could have," Chance said quietly, his face turned to the rising sun. "When I was little, he used to take me down to the ocean and we'd fish in the surf. We hardly ever caught anything, but I didn't care. He'd tell me stories about the old days in Yokuda, or the Ra'Gada, or how our ancestor Lakene fought alongside Cyrus himself. He was always full of stories. No surprise I guess, he was named after a Redguard historian after all: Destri Melarg."

"When I started to get older, he wasn't around as much. He was a warrior in King Lhotun's service, and got sent to Dak'Fron. It's this town in the desert, an important caravan stop. He still wrote to me and mother, in spite of how much it cost. We'd have just moved, but my mother runs a little tavern by the docks in Sentinel. It's not much, just a watering hole for locals, but she had to take out a loan to start it up. She's still paying it off, and will be for years."

By then Aleron was waking as well, and Chance became less talkative. They shared a cold breakfast of more bread, and then were off into the river again. The V-shaped hull of the dory rocked wildly as they started out. Teresa grabbed the gunwales, fearing the boat was going to tip over, but Aleron just laughed.

"These dories are all like that," he said. "She'll stiffen up once we're underway. Don't you worry, it takes a lot to sink one of these. You can even take 'em on the open ocean."

It did smooth out soon after. In no time at all the Breton had the strange-looking sail up into the wind, and they were cruising north once more. Teresa could see the eastern bank of the Niben in the distance, and imagined that the river had to be well over a mile in width. That must be why the big ocean-going ships could sail it, the wood elf imagined. There was no way one of those giants would go up a little river like the Larsius after all.

The morning passed quietly. Occasionally they passed isolated villages along the shore, and near them fishing boats like their own bobbed in the river. Magnus was at his highest when Teresa saw the white stones of an Arimer ruin on the eastern shore. Some of the broken columns rose from the waves itself, and many were covered in vines and moss. A small boat was pulled up to the riverbank, but there was no sign of anyone near it, or anywhere else around the ruin.

That must be Culotte, Teresa thought. She knew of no other Arimer site on the Upper Niben.

"Who's boat is that?" she asked Aleron, pointing toward her discovery.

"Don't know," the Breton shrugged. "Probably treasure hunters. Or it could be university mages. Maybe even smugglers. None of our business I say."

They sailed on, leaving Teresa to wonder who was visiting the ruin, or living there?

Loved the boat ride up the Upper Niben toward the Lake. Also enjoyed meeting Aleron here. Much better than in my fan fic! Here we get to see what he really could have been had he not played such a tragic part in game.

I liked that you included the sketch of a dory. It really helps to visualize the sailing ship as you describe it (though I already had a good mental visual just from your description alone).

I did see one nit:
Seems to me your apostrophe became seasick and went overboard!

I like how you make the whole place seem so much bigger than the game.

My only criticism is Chance's line:

"The galleons sail down the river at night," Chance rumbled from the prow. "You can too."

It reads like he's saying that they're going down the river too, but they're going up. Maybe just take "down" out?

O' Destri, where art thou? I've seen you lurking from time to time, but that's not the same. Why have you forsaken us, master Redguard?

I do hope this trip helps Chance find some closure.

It's always fun to go sailing... until your stomach decides to keelhaul itself. If anyone wishes to place a bet on who will be first, the window is open until the next chapter gets posted! Place your bets now, winner takes all, and I take all winners!

Thank you for lavishing quite a bit of attention to this wonderful river trip. It was most enjoyable!

Very neat, the bartering arrangement Pappy has worked out with Aleron.

'She dug her hands into the loam beneath her and closed her eyes.'
That's our wood elf!

'Teresa nodded. How would she feel if someone had told her that Simplicia was dead? She probably would not be able to rest until she knew for certain if it was true or false.'
Ok, so we don't know Chance all that well yet. But we sure know Simplicia and Teresa. What a chillingly effective way to slam Chance's tragedy right into Teresa's (and our) hearts.

'Magnus was at his highest when Teresa saw the white stones of an Arimer ruin on the eastern shore'
Your world building has been so effective that it would never occur to me for Teresa to say Ayleid instead Arimer.

A mystery at Culotte? Oooh! I wonder how soon or if that will factor in to TF.

Nit? Perhaps not.
"When I started to get older, he wasn't as around as much.'
This is dialogue, and you can have Chance speak as you wish of course. Perhaps the wording he used is intentional, or perhaps the extra 'as' is not intentional. Simply take a peek at it and keep/change as you deem best.

In 31.2 I loved the cozy scene in the common area. Juno Austenius indeed! Teresa’s “I’ve seen all of her plays” flub should give Tadrose a clue, even though it was an embarrassing one. And then, oh my goodness! Teresa’s shattered glass is what happened to Chance. I wonder where this turn of events will take them?

Then 31.3, the boat trip. I guess it might have been more fun with a pitcher of mai tais than it was with a stressed-out, sleep deprived Redguard pacing the boat. Poor Chance, his mental anguish really comes through.

haute ecole rider: That sprit rigged sail is hard to describe. I wonder who came up with the idea? Still, it is a very effective sail, and common for the dories, so I used it. I actually put a great deal of time into researching small fishing boats before settling on the dory as the standard one for Cyrodiil.


ghastley: Bigger is my goal for the TF. The game scale works for a video game, but not for a believable fiction setting. It is just way to small.

I looked over your nit, and changed it to 'through', that way it can apply to either direction.


Thomas Kaira: I never really thought about seasickness! I guess I should have. Obviously Aleron would not be prone. One would hope that Chance would not be either, not after making the trip by sea from Hammerfell to Bravil, in the top masts no less! That would just leave Teresa... But I never imagined her as the sea sick type.


Acadian: A much better journey up river than Marlow had in Heart of Darkness/Willard in Apocalypse Now!

Look for more of those bartering agreements in the future. There will be several. We will see the mystery of Culotte revealed next chapter as well.

I looked at your nit. I had originally intended it that way, but on further thought, went and changed it.


Grits: Poor Teresa and her backfired attempt to impress Tadrose! Yet Tadrose did take her hand and offer to read to her from the book afterward...


Next: In our previous episode, Teresa and Chance set sail up the Niben with Aleron Loche. Next, the Imperial City.


Chapter 31.4 - Inheritance

It was late in the afternoon when the river narrowed and its banks began to rise sharply. Soon they found themselves sailing between high granite cliffs to either side. The tumbled-down stones of an ancient castle rose on the western shore, obviously long-since abandoned. A massive bridge of stone, bronze, and steel spanned the nearly mile-wide gap between the cliffs on either side of the river. Teresa's eyes widened at the sight. She could see wagons and horses making their way across it, tiny in the distance above. The massive structure seemed to float in the sky, and the wood elf wondered how on Nirn it did not come crashing down into the river?

"Damn," she heard Chance gasp from the prow of the dory. "Will you look at that…"

"Yep, that makes you sit up and take notice alright," Aleron said as he guided the boat under the great bridge. Its metal spars curved hundreds of feet above, creating a home for numerous birds. It was much higher than the masts of any galleon, let alone Aleron's tiny boat. "I heard one of the Remans built it, back in the First Era."

Then the fisherman pointed ahead, and Teresa turned to follow his gesture. Before her spread a vast lake, its blue waters stretching out as far as the eye could see.

"That's Lake Rumare," the Breton said. "We'll make the Imperial City sometime tomorrow."

Sailing into the lake, they turned west and hugged the southern shore until darkness closed in. Then they put into the next village they came across to spend the night. Teresa dug into her purse to buy them all a meal of hot soup-in-bread from a local family, and the two men spent the night sleeping in the village's communal barn. Teresa did not join them however, instead she spread out her bedroll under the stars outside. Laying on her back to look up at them, she wondered what Tadrose might be doing as she dozed off to sleep. That night she dreamed of the dark elf, and when she woke, it was with more than just a faint smile.

After a short breakfast of polenta the next morning, they were on their way again. Aleron took them north across the lake until they reached the southern shores of the City Isle, and then followed the coast west. Rocky hills dusted with heather went by, and Teresa knew that the quarry where she and Methredhel had gone swimming was somewhere behind them.

Aleron was true to his word. The Waterfront of the Imperial City appeared on the horizon as Magnus began to fall from his zenith. While the City Isle stretched on to the right, the crescent-shaped island that made up the Waterfront loomed to their left. Yet the Breton turned their boat south, and sailed past the broad entrance of the bay between the two.

"Hey, where are you going?" Chance asked as they turned west once more and began to slide along the southern side of the long, slender Waterfront Isle. The fields upon it were green and dotted with heather, ending with a solid line of grey stone warehouses and insulas that faced the interior of the port. "That's it right there!"

"That's where the money goes," Aleron said, shaking his head with exasperation. "Galleons only. Fishing boats go on Cheapside."

Soon enough, Cheapside came into view. At its western end, the empty fields of the island gave way to a forest of tumbled down shacks, lean-tos, and tents that was larger than Bravil. Tens of thousands of raggedly-dressed people could be seen milling about the slum and crowding the shore. Numerous cooking fires rose from the sea of decrepitude, adding a sharp odor to the wind that blew from the east.

"That doesn't smell like woodsmoke," Chance said, wrinkling his nose.

"It's not," Teresa replied. "It's dung. Only rich people can afford wood."

"I've heard of people in the desert doing that with camel dung but…" Chance looked away, making a face.

"Cacat is big business down here," Teresa explained. "You might say it's the only industry the shantytown has. There are merchants who pay you to… contribute. They dry it out into flakes, and then sell it back to people. That's why they call this place the Chamber Pot. It has its charms though, dung fires burn a lot longer than wood ones."

"You sound like you know from personal experience," Aleron commented. They coasted past the end of the island, and he pulled the sail down from the mast.

"I lived here for three years," Teresa explained. She helped the fisherman with the canvas sheet. After a few days on the water, she was starting to get enough of a sense of how the boat worked to at least add some muscle-power to the Breton's efforts.

"I can't believe it," Chance said sourly as he stared out across the slum. "Even in Hammerfell, we hear stories about how grand the Imperial City is. The great insulas and basilicas, the bathhouses, the theaters, a market bigger than all of Sentinel… But this is just pathetic."

"This isn't the Imperial City. This is just its midden heap." Teresa helped Aleron break out the oars and fit them to their locks on the gunwales to either side of the craft. As the Breton took up the sweeps and began to pull away for the port, Teresa pointed to the City Isle on their left. "That's the city."

Crowning the escarpment that rose north of the Waterfront were the massive grey walls of the Imperial City. Topped by square crenellations and dotted with higher towers at regular intervals, the fortification brooded over the port below like a sullen tyrant. Rising from behind the center of the walls was a thin, white spire, stretching so high into the sky that it seemed to almost scrape the clouds themselves.

"That's White Gold Tower!" Chance gasped with wide eyes.

"You can always tell the new people," Aleron winked at Teresa as he worked the oars. "Always starin' up at that big, white prick!"

"Aleron!" Teresa exclaimed. Yet she could still not contain a faint smile at the fisherman's jibe.

"Well, what do you think the Ayleids made it like that for?" the fisherman said. "They wanted to show that theirs were bigger than anyone else's."

Even Chance - as caught up in newcomer's amazement as he was - laughed at that.

The Breton fisherman expertly rowed the small boat into the placid waters between the western half of Waterfront Isle and the larger City Isle to the north. Looking beyond him, Teresa saw the grey line of the stone causeway that linked both together at the center of the port, splitting it into eastern and western halves. From beyond it rose the tall masts of galleons docked in the far harbor. The quays that lined their own half of the port were taken up by small dories such as Aleron's however, as well as a few larger boats of twice the length.

Aleron found them an empty slip on the Waterfront Isle side of the docks, and climbed up with a rope in hand to tie the boat off. He may look flabby, Teresa thought as she clambered up after the fisherman, but he certainly knew his trade. Chance followed a moment later, and before they had time to even take a look around they found a quartet of men waiting for them.

First was an Imperial with snow white hair and a long, bushy beard. He was dressed in fine blue linen, and wore a jacket that was tailored to look like a uniform. Trailing him was another Imperial in his teens. This one wore plainer flax, and carried a large book in one hand and pot of ink in the other. Flanking the pair were two of the largest orcs Teresa had ever seen. Both wore mail, carried axes at their hips, and looked as friendly as slaughterfish.

"Aleron Loche," the white-haired Imperial sneered, staring first at the Breton fisherman, and then at Teresa and Chance. "Come to lose more of your money have you? That will be two remans a day for a vessel this size."

Aleron simply looked at Teresa, and she was obliged to dig out the copper coins and pass them to the harbormaster. "We'll only be here for the night," she said. "Tomorrow morning we will be on our way again."

"Well if you're not gone by noon, it's another two remans," the old Imperial gruffly declared as he made the coins vanish into his pocket. He turned to the younger man, who opened the log book and held it still while he wrote down an entry into it.

"Oh, and welcome to the Imperial City," the Imperial turned to say when he was finished. From the tone of his voice, Teresa felt as welcome as a pig in chapel.

The docks were buzzing with activity all around, as other dories came in and their crews began unloading their cargos of freshly-caught fish. People of all races filled the street that ran the inner length of the Waterfront Isle, competing with horse-drawn carts and wagons for space. Beyond the street towered row after row of stone warehouses, and down the lanes between them Teresa could glimpse taverns, brothels, gambling houses, and other dens of vice. In the center of them all rose a great basilica crowned by a statue of Kynareth. The goddess held a leaping fish in one hand, and a stylized gust of wind in the other.

Somewhere beyond that lay the Chamber Pot, Teresa knew. Out of sight - and as far as the Empire was concerned - out of mind

"Well, I'm for the Arena," Aleron declared. "I'll meet you here tomorrow morning."

He was off before Teresa could reply. For all that the Breton had complained during their voyage, now that they were in the Imperial City he certainly seemed quite pleased. She wondered if it was simply the bloodsport of the Arena that drew the fisherman, or if it was the gambling on the outcome? Given what the harbormaster had said, she imagined it was more the latter.

"I have never seen so many ships in my life," Chance whistled. "Sentinel's harbor isn't even half the size of this."

"You get used to it after a while," Teresa shrugged. All of the Redguard's normal male bluster had vanished. Instead he gaped openly at the metropolis around him. The same as everyone did their first time in the Imperial City, Teresa reflected. Aleron had been right about that indeed.

Teresa motioned for the Redguard to follow, and began the long walk around the port to the tunnel that connected the Waterfront to the rest of the city on the escarpment above. "Come on, let's get to Jensine's."

What a wonderful description of the arrival at the Waterfront! Cheapside indeed! It all make so much sense here.

I had to laugh out loud:
Ain't that the frickin' truth!

The mood of the last two chapters combined with this song... *sigh.* Isn't life grand?

Your description of the Waterfront really drives the point home about the destitute poverty these poor souls must contend with. You know, this mod is actually very agreeable with your version of the Waterfront, adding a whole slew of new run-down shacks, a tiny chapel to Kynareth, more ships in the rich port section, and the tiny, dilapidated docks in the poor district. It essentially does what you did, making the Waterfront into a self-sufficient shanty-town.

I would recommend it, but there's one catch: it carries a HUGE performance hit with it. Unless you have a powerful PC, you might not be able to handle it. Thankfully for me, my PC can take the heat, and I think Acadian probably could too (made all the better with the 7 Windows through which he can view it ), but it is a pretty brutal place for the game to render.

I love the vast scale of Teresa’s Imperial City. I felt like I was sailing under the massive bridge with them. The nesting birds brought it to life.

They dry it out into flakes, and then sell it back to people. That's why they call this place the Chamber Pot.

And here I’ve been puzzling over how to heat Cloud Ruler Temple. They just need more poo.

It was nice to see Chance get all wide-eyed and impressed. I had to laugh at Aleron’s assessment of the Ayleids’ magnificent erection. Hopefully he won’t gamble away his boat.

This was very immersive and a pleasure to read. Lovely descriptions, and 'tour guiding' us along the final portion of the river journey to the IC.

I really liked the official welcoming party of fee collectors. An old bureaucrat with a young one under training, accompanied by a pair of tusky 'enforcers'. Perfect!

Ah, life on the waterfront crafting alternative energy fuels; it's a sh!tty job, but someone has to do it.

It is nice that you retain Aleron's well-known gambling problem. I see his reputation precedes him, even in the big city.

Again the world is a larger place. It's nice to have an Imperial City you can't walk across in ten minutes.

This line caught my eye
wore a jacket that was tailored to look like a uniform.
Subtly suggesting that he was not exactly acting an official capacity.

Neither of the Orcs would be in the gro-Dragol clan, would they?

Good parts (they're certainly coming quickly just now). The first one was a good boat trip, Chance got a bit more development, and Aleron kept himself to himself. I articularly enjoyed the boat at Culotte, I think we might be finding out more about it later, though those on the boat might be in for an unpleasant surprise...

But now we're tempted by another IC part, and then another ruin which should be excellent. I wonder if there'll be anyone moved in since she was there... but first I'm looking forward to see what Simplicia has to say.

nit: Both wore mail, carried axes at their hips, and looked as friendly as a slaughterfish. - the first two bits (the mail and axes) refer to both together while 'friendly as a slaughterfish' is singular. Dropping the 'a' might make it flow better, or saying something like 'Each wore mail, carried an axe...'.

haute ecole rider: For a long time I have wanted to add more definition to the Waterfront District, since people who read the TF often confuse the shantytown with the dock area. I was glad to finally come up with an actual name for the shantytown, to make it less confusing what the characters are talking about. Since the port is divided into two areas, I decided to further define it into one side for the big money ships, and one for the local fishermen.


Thomas Kaira: I love the LOTR soundtracks, especially the one for Fellowship. The really big cities in the ancient world like Rome, Alexandria, etc... had gigantic slums. Even today, one sixth of the world's population live in shanty towns. So I felt it proper for the Imperial City to have one as big as any of the outlying cities.


Grits: Well, you went with a similar method for Cloud Ruler Temple. You just chose natural gas instead... The Ayleid erection is something that just came to me as I was writing. I wanted Aleron to say something about White Gold Tower, and it was just perfect.


Acadian: I got the idea for the alternative fuel when I was looking at how I described the Waterfront Isle, and the southern half of the City Isle, as being fields of heather. Given that, I could not see a lot of firewood being available. So it got me to thinking about other cheap forms of fuel. At the same time, it gave me the perfect name for the shantytown - The Chamber Pot.

I am indeed retaining Aleron's gambling issues, which will play a part in future chapters...


ghastley: Actually, I was thinking exactly the opposite about the clothing. I do not imagine that civil servants, or even military officers, are issued uniforms, or anything official. So I picture them having it all made on their own by tailors. Much like officers in the Napoleonic era were responsible for providing their own uniforms.


Olen: I will slow down the pace back to one post every three days come April. The reason will be clear at that time. We will be seeing Simplicia again this next post, and the one after that.


Next: In our previous episode Teresa and company reached the Imperial City. Next she and Chance go looking for his father's mace.


Chapter 31.5 - Inheritance

The sun was low on the horizon by the time they had trekked their way through the length of the city to Jensine's shop. The forester led the way inside, and found the Nord busy haggling with an Altmer woman over a set of ceramic cups. Casting her gaze around the aisles, Teresa found no sign of Simplicia. The wood elf frowned as she walked through the general store. Where could the old woman be? she wondered.

"Teresa!" Jensine's voice rang out through the shop. "When did you get back? If you're looking for Simplicia, she went next door to pick up dinner. We were just about to close up."

Screenshot

That brought a faint smile to Teresa's lips, and she led Chance to the counter where the shopkeeper stood. The two of them waited as the Nord went back to arguing with her customer. Finally she agreed to sell the cups - for half what they were worth according to Jensine's grumblings - and turned back to Teresa.

"So you are going broke then?" Teresa's eyes glinted with amusement.

"Are you kidding?" the shopkeeper winked. "I made two drakes on those cups! But who's your friend? Did you meet someone down in Bravil?"

"Not exactly," Teresa said, feeling distinctly uncomfortable at the way the other woman was leering. "This is Chance, he's another member of the Fighters Guild."

"Oh that's right," the Nord said. "Simplicia mentioned you joined the guild down there. Good thinking. That will help you stay in steady work."

"Teresa never said you were so young Jensine," Chance stepped up to the counter and laid his hands upon its smooth wooden surface. He leaned forward, and lit the room up with that roguish smile of his. "Why you look barely older than she does."

"Hardly," the Nord rolled her eyes. "I'm not a day under forty."

"But your skin is so soft," Chance said, reaching out to take one of the woman's hands in his own. Turning her palm up, he traced a gentle finger along her skin. "This is not the hand of a forty year-old."

"Well, I do try to take care of myself," the Nord actually blushed, and was obviously in no hurry to disengage herself from the young Redguard.

"As every smart woman should," Chance went on, looking her in the eye while continuing to caress her hand. "It's important to pamper yourself sometimes. To just stop and smell the roses."

"Cherry Blossom!" The thin, creaking voice rang out from across the shop, prompting Teresa to turn with a grin. There in the door was Simplicia, a bowl of dumplings and cheese in one hand, and a jug of wine in the other. The wood elf crossed the room in moments, and swept up the old Imperial up in an embrace.

"Be careful baby girl," Simplicia murmured, fighting to balance the cargo in both her hands. Teresa gave the old woman a chance to set down the dinner that was obviously meant for her and Jensine, and then wrapped her up in another hug.

"I missed you so much mother," Teresa breathed in the old woman's ear. "Did you get my letters?"

"I did," the Imperial smiled as they pulled apart. "Just yesterday I got the one you wrote on the second of Hearthfire. But that was just four days ago. How did you get back here so fast?"

"We took a boat up the Niben," Teresa explained. "It only took a few days."

"We?" Simplicia's gaze moved from the wood elf to the Redguard, who was still speaking quietly with Jensine. "Who's that? Oh Teresa, please tell me that is your new man! I told you that you would find the right one someday!"

"No mother, not hardly. He just works with me at the guild." The wood elf rolled her eyes, and led the older woman across the room to where the others stood. "Chance, this is my mother Simplicia."

"It is an honor ma'am," the young man declared, standing straight and executing a short, formal bow. "I have heard so much about you that I feel as if I know you already."

Teresa wrinkled her nose. When had she ever told him anything about Simplicia? The forester wondered if this was how he won over so many women? From the look on Jensine's face, she imagined that the Nord was ready to invite the Redguard up into her bedroom. Please, she prayed to Dibella, don't let Simplicia be so gullible.

"Hrmph," Simplicia breathed, clearly not impressed. That brought a faint smile to the wood elf's lips. Score one for her mother!

"Jensine, do you still have that Dwemer mace?" Teresa asked.

"Oh, you mean my persuader?" the Nord grinned, looking down behind the counter. "I've kept it back here ever since the Crisis. Just in case you know."

"Do you think we might see it?" Chance asked. "You see, it is the reason the two of us came here to the Imperial City."

"You two came up here because of my mace?" The Nord looked perplexed, but leaned down to lift the weapon to the top of the counter.

"It's more than just a mace," Chance declared. "It might be my father's. If it is, it's been in my family for over four hundred years. May I?"

At the Redguard's question, Jensine lifted the bronze mace and handed it to him. Made of solid metal, the handle ended with the twin antenna common to most Dwemer artifacts. The long grip was carved into rectangular sections, with slender indentations between each, and the wood elf imagined that they might help one maintain a grip on the weapon. The head was a ball of metal, crowned by a pair of flanges that ran parallel to one another from one side to the other.

"If it is my father's, it'll have a Dwemer inscription on the haft, between the head and the grip," the Redguard turned the weapon over in his hands. "It says-"

"Ncharcasti," Jensine finished his sentence.

The Redguard's breath caught in his throat, and his eyes widened ever so slightly as the ancient elven runes stared back at him. He ran his fingers over the engraved letters, as gentle and purposeful as he had when caressing Jensine's hand. Finally he set the weapon back down on top of the counter and sighed.

"That is it." He turned to Teresa with shoulders slumped. "That means you are right. My father is dead."

"What?" Jensine asked, her face a mix of suspicion and uncertainty. A look which Simplicia mirrored.

"That is why we came," Teresa explained. "I think Chance's father was at Vilverin. One of the bandits there had the same name as him, looked about the same as him, and had this mace."

"So let me guess, now you want it back?" Jensine's eyes narrowed, and one of her hands fell to the bronze mace and pulled it closer to her. "Well it's been good luck to me. I'm not getting rid of it."

"Jensine," Teresa said, "you can get another mace. Look, we'll pay you for it."

"But this is the mace I used on that clannfear!" the shopkeeper exclaimed. "I saved your life with it, remember?"

"I understand," Chance said. He laid one of his own hands over Jensine's. "You have history with it. I do as well. I sailed across half of Tamriel for this. It's been in my family since the days of Cyrus. My grandfather's grandfather's grandfather Lakene fought side by side with him at Stros M'kai, with this mace in hand. It has been passed down in my family for the four hundred years since then. Now it is all I have left of my father."

Jensine's gaze softened under the Redguard's stare. But only for a moment. "This mace is worth a lot of money," she declared, now turning to Teresa. "I paid you good septims for it. I expect my money's worth."

"You'll get it," Teresa affirmed. She dug into the purse tied to her belt. She knew that the Redguard had no silver. That was why she was paying for everything. By Raven, the things she did for her friends!

I thoroughly enjoyed Teresa's 'homecoming' at Jensine's shop.

And this made me grin:
Of course that didn't stop Chance! He's a Blackguard, all right!

And now Teresa's paying for him too? Yup, he's a Blackguard all the way!

Plenty to like here.

Chance is quite the charmer!

It was wonderful to see dear Simplicia again - and just as wonderful to see her not fall for the smooth-talking Chance's charm.

Jensine was rather hard-nosed and I'm glad you portrayed her this way. It would have been easy to show her yield to Chance's charm and truly compelling history of the mace. By showing Jensine as a bit of a hard Nord who filters decisions through her coin purse, it allows for a fabulous contrast with Teresa. By Raven, that's sweet of you, Teresa. Especially for an elf who is immune to Chance's charms.

Jensine at her finest! A very humble Nord she is, but once you start talking business, she is cold as the mountains from which she hails!

Chance is most definitely the lady's man. I'm glad Simplicia gave him the cold shoulder, that would have been a most awkward relationship if it panned out.

Teresa certainly puts a lot by her friends. It's mighty noble of her to buy Chance his mace back.

I loved the trip up the Niben and back to the majestic IC. The waterfront and city always sings when ever you take us there! I cannot help but think of Teresa when I come across Simplicia and Jensine, besides I always get good deals there just by dropping the Teresa name.

The nighteye goggles worked a treat in the dory. That was a spendid idea.

Its metal spars curved hundreds of feet above, creating a home for numerous birds.
Ha ha! So true. We build and they use.

"Hrmph," Simplicia breathed, clearly not impressed.

You don’t play a player!

Jensine shows us what it takes to be a successful merchant in the IC. Poor Chance couldn’t have picked a more difficult trio to work his wiles upon, but he’s still getting someone else to buy back his mace for him. I wonder if he realizes that Teresa’s help has nothing to do with his charms. His journey is as compelling as Teresa’s.

haute ecole rider: Yep, the only thing Teresa is not doing is paying the rent for him! The Fighters Guild is doing that!


Acadian: Chance did have Jensine eating out of the palm of his hand. Until it came to money! Then the Jensine the woman gave way to Jensine the merchant. I needed some conflict in this chapter, so getting the mace could not have been easy. Plus, it was a natural for Jensine to eventually think of her coinpurse. Making money is her job after all!


Thomas Kaira: Imagine Simplicia hooking up with Pappy! Teresa does indeed show some of her nobility of spirit here. It is all part of the yet unspoken Teresa Doctrine, which we all saw a glimpse of during her talk with Henantier at the end of Through A Nightmare Darkly.


Winter Wolf: I spent two scenes just showing the trip up the Niben and landing at the Waterfront because I wanted to build up the world some more. I am glad the extra time spent it paid off!


Grits: Simplicia is just too old, and been around too much to be easily played. That is one of the things that make her fun to write. I think Chance does realize that Teresa's help has nothing to do with him charming her, after all, she is not making goo-goo eyes back at him, or fawning over him. Whether or not he has figured out that she only eats fish is another matter...


Next: In our previous episode, Teresa helped Chance regain Ncharcasti, his family mace. Next, Teresa spends some quality time with her mother before setting out to Vilverin. While she is at it, she borrows the Emma hat from Buffy.


Chapter 31.6 - Inheritance

"So what was that guildhall by the Arena like?" Simplicia asked. The old woman sat on a chair next to her plain rattan bed. A small table sat beside it, supporting a trio of flickering candles, and a simple clay jug. Teresa sat in another chair facing Simplicia, a cup of goat's milk in one hand.

Everywhere Teresa looked, she saw crates, barrels, and piles of goods. A rack filled with bolts of raw cloth took up part of one wall. A barrel filled with rakes, shovels, picks, brooms, and other implements sat by the stair up to the ground floor. There were shelves crammed with pots, pans and other flatware. More chairs and tables were stacked up on top of one another in a corner, while racks of clothing and shoes filled another.

"Big," Teresa said after taking a swallow of the goat's milk. "It just looks like a run-down insula on the outside. But inside its all marble, silk, and velvet. It's like a palace. The sleeping quarters weren't so grand though. More like The Merchants Inn. Fancy, but not that fancy."

"I hope you know what you are doing, joining that guild," the old woman fretted. "It's a big thing to step into. Are you sure you're ready for it dear?"

"I think so," Teresa smiled. "I wasn't sure at first. But the way I had to really prove myself to get in made me realize something. The other people around me had to be just as good as well. With the way we all train together, I know that I can count on them. The man who runs the guild down in Bravil knows what he's doing. He won the Grass Crown in Skyrim, years ago, and he's taught me a lot since I joined. You'd like him mom, he's a scoundrel!"

"Like this Chance?" The skepticism in Simplicia's voice could not be more obvious. "He acts like a smooth-talking libertine. Did you see him trying to sweet-talk Jensine!"

"I think Chance is like that with all women," Teresa sighed. "He tried it with me too, the first time I met him. You know how men are, especially the young ones."

"That I do," Simplicia said. "And you are smarter than most girls your age, to see through that cacat. You just keep looking, you'll find the right man one day."

Teresa rolled her eyes. As if she wanted a man at all. "So how have you been keeping?" she asked. "It looks like Jensine is still treating you good."

"Oh yes indeed," Simplicia declared. "She still lets me stay down here in the basement, and pays me for the work I do. She still has headaches you know. Ever since the Crisis. Sometimes they get so bad she has to lie down with all the lights turned out, even in the middle of the day. She saw a healer at the temple, but they said it's too late to cure. Her skull healed up wrong after that clannfear. He said they could drill a couple of holes in her head to try to fix it. Or try to break the bones again and re-heal them. But that is it."

"Drill holes in her head!" Teresa gaped. "I can imagine what she said to that!"

"No kidding! You'd think a chapel-smart priest would have something better than that!" Simplicia exclaimed. Then her tone became more somber, and her eyes looked off into space. "But I guess when some things are broken, they just can't be put right again."

Teresa bit her lip. Simplicia was thinking about her own wounds, she thought, the ones the Dunmer madman gave her so long ago.

"But what am I saying," the old woman snapped from her brief reverie and climbed to her feet. "Like I said before, I have a present for you."

The Imperial plodded to a dresser near the bed and pulled open one of its drawers. Withdrawing a small cloth sack from within, she turned to Teresa. The wood elf stood up and stepped over to Simplicia, staring at the bag. It seemed entirely ordinary, with a pair of slits in it to run a belt through, and a simple drawstring to tie it shut. Hardly anything remarkable.

"Umm, it's wonderful?" Teresa said as the old woman handed it to her. She felt energy from the cloth the instant she touched it. There was magicka within it, she thought, and quite a bit of it. "This isn't just a bag!"

"Reach inside," Simplicia beamed. She seemed to be enjoying herself immensely.

Teresa obliged the old woman and undid the strings at the mouth of the bag. Pulling it open, she found that it came apart much wider than she would have imagined. Wide enough for a bag easily three times its size, if not more. Reaching her hand inside, her fingers did not touch the bottom, as she would have expected for a bag its size. She put her arm in up to the elbow, and still could not find the bottom. Finally her entire arm had vanished within the sack, and still she could find the end of it.

"This is a Bag of Holding!" Teresa exclaimed. "A Thieves Bag! Where did you get it?"

"Now that is a long story," Simplicia said. Her old bones creaked on their way to the bed, where she sat down heavily. "Come and sit with me, and I'll tell you about my adventure. You'll hear about it from Methredhel soon enough I suppose."

"Methredhel?" Teresa puzzled. She dutifully sat next to the old woman, and by reflex one of her arms reached out to wrap around the Imperial. "What does she have to do with it? Did she give the bag to you?"

"Slow down and let me tell the story," Simplicia began. The Imperial waited until Teresa fell silent and nodded her head to continue. "It all started with this little fetcher named Thoronir, who opened up a shop after the Crisis. His prices were so low they were putting Jensine out of business. A lot of other people too. So I followed him, and found out he was a fence for a grave robber."

"A grave robber?" Teresa gasped. "Was he in the Thieves Guild?"

"No, a freelancer," Simplicia explained. "The Grey Fox would'a never touched this villain. Methredhel helped me get the proof by breaking into his apartment. He had a ledger with everything he took. It turns out he was selling the bodies to a necromancer too. At least that's what that bounder Volsinius said when he caught him."

"A necromancer?" Teresa's eyes flew wide, remembering her own encounter with one of the death mages in Vilverin. The one that had killed Chance's father. "But how did Vols get involved?"

"Once I found out what Dreth was doing, I had Volsinius go after him." Simplicia explained. "That fetcher has always been a mad dog killer, so I knew he'd finish off that Dunmer, and cut off Thoronir's cheap goods in the bargain."

"Wait a minute, Dreth?" Teresa felt a chill run down her spine. "Valen Dreth, was that the grave robber's name?"

"Yes," Simplicia spat. "A piece of dreck Dunmer. Just like that one that cut me up years ago. Volsinius said he split him open like a ripe melon. Have you heard of him?"

"Yes," Teresa breathed. She felt as if an ogre and landed atop of her. Valen Dreth! she thought. The same man who had tormented her as a child, and that she had sent to prison with Methredhel's help. The same man who had been in the cell across from her in the Imperial Prison!

"What is it cherry blossom?" Simplicia's voice had turned somber. "You look like you just saw a ghost."

"I guess I did in a way," Teresa forced a faint smile to her lips. The madman who had terrified her as a child was dead. To think that it was Simplicia of all people ultimately responsible too! Somehow that seemed appropriate. Simplicia had been the one who had taken care of her all her life after all. "I'll tell you about it later. But it sounds like I'm not the only one who should be joining the Fighters Guild! Maybe you should join with me, being the heroine you are!"

"I'm no hero," Simplicia rolled her eyes. "I just did what I had to is all."

Now why did that sound familiar? Teresa thought with another smile. Like mother, like daughter.

"But that doesn't explain how you got the bag?" Teresa asked. "What about Thoronir, did he go to prison?"

"Nope," Simplicia grinned like a cat that had just caught a bird. "He's the one that gave me the bag. In return I forgot to mention him to Volsinius."

"Mother!" Teresa gasped. "You blackmailed him!"

"Well of course I did," the old Imperial said. "There was no sense in him going to prison, not when I could get something out of him. You can use that bag in your adventures. Think of all the loot you can carry in it. You could probably even hide your bow and arrows in there, with no one else the wiser."

Teresa opened her mouth to say something, then shut it again. What right did she have to get self-righteous? Simplicia was right after all. She could use the bag, and there was no point in imprisoning the shopkeeper. Dreth was the real villain. Of that she had no doubt, given what she knew of the madman.

"Have I ever said that you are the best mother a girl could ever have?" Teresa asked, wrapping her arms around the much older woman and holding her tight. As ever, the rest of the world slipped away. Nothing existed but her and Simplicia.

"So Vols didn't get suspicious?" Teresa wondered as she finally drew away. "I'm surprised he just left things with Dreth."

"Oh, he's suspicious alright," Simplicia said. "But he's got no proof, so what can he do?"

"I doubt that's it," Teresa winked. "I think he'd do anything for you."

"What are you talking about?" Simplicia's brows furrowed in consternation. "That fetcher?"

"Yes, Vols," Teresa insisted. "And don't call him that. He deserves better."

"He deserves…" Simplicia muttered. "You remember who he is don't you? What he did to you?"

"I do," Teresa said. "But I also remember what he did for us. Look at his face. He got that way for you. You couldn't see it from where you were, but I did. When that atronach knocked you down, he stepped in front of it. He let it burn him to save you. He saved me from that dremora too. And that's not all he's done for us. Not nearly."

"He's a brute." Simplicia waved her hand. "Good for nothing but killing. You're seeing things that aren't there."

"No I'm not," Teresa said resolutely. "I am seeing what really is there. What he's afraid to show anyone because he's so stuffed with male pride."

"How do you know?" Simplicia said, then her eyes flew wide. "You aren't falling in love with him are you? Not him!"

"No, not hardly." Teresa shook her head. Why did everyone think she wanted a man! "I told you, I don't like men. The same as the poet Sappho. But I have spent time with him since the Crisis, and I write to him from Bravil, the same as I write to you and Methredhel. I've gotten to know him. Who he really is. He's not half as bad as you think."

"Hrrmph," Simplicia breathed, leaning back in the bed. Her jaw was set into a scowl, and Teresa wondered if she should press it further.

"I can forgive him," Teresa said, throwing caution to the wind. "I'm not saying he's perfect. But no one is. When he talks about you, you should see how it changes him. I think he loved you twenty years ago, and I think he still loves you now."

"That fet-" The Imperial stopped herself with a look from Teresa. "He never loved anyone in his life."

"How do you know?" Teresa asked. "Have you ever given him a chance? Go talk to him sometime. He's mostly at the legion barracks in the Palace District, but I know he comes here to the Market District because of Brekke. He's taking care of that little girl you know, just like you looked after me."

"Probably feels guilty," Simplicia spat.

"He probably does." Teresa nodded. "But that means he does care. He just doesn't know how to show it to people. If you would just talk to him, it would mean the world to him."

"I'll think about it."

I love reading about Teresa and her adventures. I also enjoy the amount of characterisation you have given Simplicia. A very good read. I enjoyed it

Now why did I picture Simplicia and Vols when you mentioned Buffy's Emma hat? And see, I was right!

I really enjoyed the mother-daughter moment here. It was wonderful, especially the Bag of Holding. But even more fun was Teresa's reaction to Simplicia's story. How could she be shocked at Simplicia's blackmailing of Thoronir?

Trephining, believe it or not, is an ancient method for treating pressure on the brain. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't, but remember it was developed hundreds of thousands of years before MRI and CT scans!

WooHoo! A bag of holding! Let's go shopping, Teresa! I'll bet between the two of us, we can fill it up!

It was nice to recall the Thoronir adventure.

"I'm no hero," Simplicia rolled her eyes. "I just did what I had to is all."
Now why did that sound familiar? Teresa thought with another smile. Like mother, like daughter.'
Oh my goodness! Did this ever hit the spot in so many ways!

Normally, I wouldn't argue with Simplicia's wisdom, but when it comes to Vols, Teresa's right, mom. Listen to your cherry blossom, for she has learned enough to fill that bag of holding you just gave to her.

Beautiful job, SubRosa.

Nit:
'She saw a healer at the temple, but they said it's too late cure.'
Probably a dropped word or two during latter edits. Perhaps 'too late for a cure'?

As is the case with a few other stories that have been ongoing for some time, I am getting a very late start on this one. I hope the fellow readers can bear with the history review as I endeavor to catch up.

Ch. 1 - I love this backstory to segue into the game. A street urchin that has lived in poverty and squalor being thrust into the adventure of her life is brilliant. And the manner in which you pulled it off is equally so. Red robed figures starting their dasterdly deeds above street level before the opening scene in the cell...awesome!

Ch. 2 - Which is to say posts 2a, 2b, and 2c because I am reading this on an alternate site to ease in catching up. There is a link to the site in the very first post of this thread, for those interested. But back to the story. I really enjoy the way you have given character to the in game dialogue. It makes the conversations much more immersive. But you did more than that. You wove the dialogue and action into the best "up to the Emperor's death" scene that I have read yet. Outstanding!

I have to go all the way back to Chapter 25.2 (pg. 41) but I'll be back with my wall of text!

Rihanae: Hi Rihane and Lissa! Welcome to the TF. It is funny that you mention Simplicia. In the TF 1.0 over at the Beth forums, I was never satisfied with my portrayal of her. It just lacked depth. One of the top things on my "To Do" list for 2.0 was to really flesh her out and bring her to life, as she is such an important person to Teresa.


haute ecole kitty: Yep, Trepanning goes back to the stone age, and often worked. That is why I went to it for Jensine's broken skull. It would probably work for her too, especially with magical healing to back it up. But the idea just sounds awful when someone explains it to you! Kind of like putting maggots on a wound sounds like barbaric torture, when actually they save people's lives by eating up the necrotic tissue, preventing gangrene.


Acadian: Oh noes! Teresa shopping with a bag of holding!

I just loved working in that not a hero part. It was just so perfect, to direct it right back at Teresa.

Good eye on the nit. I wanted to say "too late to cure"


TheOtherRick: I hope the website does make it a bit easier to catch up. That was big reason for me mirroring the TF there. The entire first chapter is brand new for Chorrol, and I think works much better to introduce Teresa, and the events of the crisis, then the original opening in what is now chapter 2.


The Return of Destri Melarg: Yaay! Destri is back! I think you will like the current chapter (31) quite a bit, as it was inspired by you.


Next: In our previous episode Teresa had a nice sit-down with Simplicia. In our next, and final segment we find her back on the lake with Aleron and Chance, headed for Vilverin.


Chapter 31.7 - Inheritance

"Can you believe that?" Chance said, turning back from his position at the prow of Aleron's boat. "No calisthenics, or morning drill? Those guys in the Imperial City chapter have it made!"

"They're a bunch of idiots," Teresa fumed. She could still remember the way the defacto leader of the chapter - the Guild Champion Moderyn Oreyn himself - had looked down his nose at her and Chance.

"We don't just hand out contracts to amateurs here in the Imperial City," he had said when she asked if there was any work headed back to Bravil. "You have to prove yourself first. Vitellus might run things fast and loose where you come from. But we are professionals here."

"Idiots?" Chance said. "They are brilliant! Talk about living easy."

"Yeah, easy until you're dead," Teresa declared. "Do you think Pappy has us working out three hours a day just because he likes yelling at us? He's making us tough, and teaching us how to work together to survive. Would you want one of those Imperial City minstrels next to you in line, or one of us?"

"Well, I guess you got a point there," Chance admitted. "That reminds me, I never got the chance to thank you. Not just for paying for the mace, but for coming out here, and everything. You're a real stand-up man, erm woman that is."

"You're welcome Chance," Teresa said with a faint smile. "If more people in this world would lend a hand when someone else is down, then it would be a better place to live in."

"Well, I don't forget who my friends are," Chance said. "When you need it, you can count on me being there. With both hands."

Teresa turned from the Redguard and stared at the coast of the City Isle as it languidly slid past her left shoulder. She had done as much for Methredhel and Adanrel the day they met, when she had saved them from the merchant that had been chasing them. The wood elf still had no idea which of the three Verus brothers it had been. Methredhel had certainly repaid the favor ten-fold since then, she mused. Adanrel on the other hand… She looked back to Chance, and wondered which he would take after?

"How about you Aleron?" Chance called out down the length of the boat. "How was the Arena?"

The Breton grumbled under his breath, and shot the Redguard a glare.

He must have lost money, Teresa thought. She had only been to the Arena once, when she was a child, but she knew that people went there to gamble as much as to watch the gladiators. It still boggled her mind that anyone could enjoy such a thing. She knew that most matches did not end in death, but it still made her sick to think of it. Was there not enough violence in the world, that so many people had to go looking for more?

The rest of the day's journey passed in relative silence. Chance was an odd mix of smiles, frowns, and pent up energy. Teresa knew that he was happy to get his father's mace. It obviously meant a great deal to him. It was more than just a simple weapon to him, that was plain. She never had any family heirlooms, no history to bind her to the generations before her, or following her. She imagined that must be a very powerful thing. Like a little piece of shared immortality.

On the other hand, she could also see that the news of his father's death weighed heavily upon the Redguard's mind. Gods forbid that happen to Simplicia, Teresa prayed. She did not know what she would do without the old Imperial. It was hard enough just living so far away in Bravil. She could not wait to save up enough money to buy Decimus' farm…

They spent the night in a farming village on the eastern shore of the City Isle, and set out across Lake Rumare once more in the morning. Teresa was familiar with the shore once they passed Sideways and Urasek, as she had walked up and down either side enough times in the past. As they neared Vilverin, she guided Aleron to a quiet spot on the coast. There she and Chance changed into their armor and readied their weapons, just in case the ruin was no longer abandoned.

In the meantime Aleron took down his sail and broke out the oars. He rowed them back out into the lake, and once more Teresa noted that while his gut was soft, his arms and back were not.

The guttural cry of a crow came to Teresa's ears, and she turned from Aleron to look forward. She found the sleek, black bird sitting at the prow of the dory, just inches away from Chance. The Redguard shooed at the bird, which took flight with a loud squawking. Then a moment later it sat right back down on the leading edge of the boat.

"Damn bird is crazy!" Chance exclaimed.

"No, he's my friend," Teresa said. "Leave him be. He's here for a reason."

Raising her eyes from the crow, she saw the walls of Vilverin rise into view. Only these were not broken and cast into the dust. Instead the gleaming ivory walls of the city rose tall and whole, stretching the length of the shore before turning inland to encircle the city from either side. Before the defenses, a line of stone jetties ran out from the shore. There long ships with delicately curving prows bobbed on the gentle waves of the lake.

The docks were lined with Imperials, Khajiit, and Argonians clad in worn sack cloth and bearing metal collars around the necks. They carried barrels and crates from the ships and loaded them onto wagons on the shore. Some of these already trundled their way through the open bronze gates that pierced the city walls and vanished within.

Elves with skin as white as cream prowled among the slaves. Some wore armor and carried swords. Others were dressed in velvet, silk, or fine linen. A whip cracked out when one of the Khajiit was slow, tracing a red welt along the feline's back. None of the others reacted. Rather they kept their heads down and continued their work in silence.

Teresa bit her lip in empathy for the poor wretches. Then the city was gone, with only a few crumbling stones rising into the sky like broken teeth where it had stood. There was no sign of the docks where the slaves had toiled, or the wall that had ringed the city. Only the ghosts of a few tumbled down rocks hinted that it had once stood along the shore.

"I heard someone say these places are four thousand years old," Chance said as the dory slid onto the beach in front of the ruin. He leaped into the waves along the shore, Ncharcasti in hand, and stepped inland with a wary eye. Teresa followed with her bow in one hand, and the other on the arrow-bag at her hip.

"That's about right. This one was sacked by the Empire in three hundred and seventy two of the First Age, then finally destroyed for good a hundred years later, at the end of the Third Ayleid War." Teresa turned to Aleron. "Stay with the boat. If you see any trouble, head out into the lake. You should be safe out there."

"What about you two?" the fisherman asked.

"We know how to handle trouble," Chance said, gripping the haft of his mace tightly. Teresa wondered if he hoped there was a fight waiting. She imagined that would be easier to face than his father's corpse…

Still, the Redguard waited for Teresa to take the lead, and stalked behind her as she made her way inland. Teresa found no signs of anyone. No voices on the breeze. No fresh footprints on the ground. No smell of a fire, or line of smoke in the air from one. Vilverin was the same tomb she had left months ago.

The crow flew before her, once again cawing as it went. The wood elf followed, and in moments she found herself standing before the body of a skeleton near the lake. Looking up, she saw the entrance of the palace directly inland, and atop it the glowing fountain of a star well. To the right of that she could see the torn canvas of the bandits' pup tents laying flat on the ground, now partly covered in dirt and leaves.

"This is him." Teresa looked down to the skeleton at her feet. His skull was split open, and several empty potion bottles lay scattered in the grass around him. His bones, bleached white from the sun, lay scattered as well. As Teresa looked closer, she saw small marks on them. Teeth-marks, she realized, probably from mudcrabs.

We eat them for dinner, and they eat us, she thought with a frown.

"Damn," Chance's voice was harsh in Teresa's ears. He fell to his knees with a clatter of steel, dropping his Dwemer mace into the grass beside him. Teresa saw that he was staring down at a leg bone. A raised line of growth made a ring around the middle of it, just like a scar would on flesh.

"When I was little, my father broke his leg playing harpastum." The Redguard's voice quivered when he spoke, and Teresa was thankful that she could only imagine what he must feel. "My mother was so furious with him!"

"So how did he go all the way from Sentinel to here?" Teresa asked.

"Like I said before, he was a warrior in King Lhuton's service." Chance's eyes stared off into space. "When I was thirteen he was sent to Dak'Fron, this town in the desert. It's the only water for miles around. But it's a Crown city too."

"Crown?" Teresa puzzled with furrowed eyebrows.

"You don't know much about Hammerfell, do you?" Chance looked up at her now, his eyes focusing once more. When Teresa shook her head, he continued. "Back there you have two kinds of people. You have your Crowns, who are hard-line traditionalists that hate the Empire, and want to keep everything the way it used to be in Yokuda. Or at least how they think it used to be. It's not like there's anyone left who really knows. Then you have the Forebears, who are the opposite."

"Well Sentinel is sort of in the middle," Chance explained. "It's the only Forebear city in the north. So King Lhuton tries to appease the Crowns by keeping up with the old traditions while still embracing the Empire. They call us Lhutonics, not really Forebears like in Taneth or Gilane, nor Crowns like in Elinhir or Skaven."

"Sentinel controls just about all of the Hammerfell side of Illiac Bay. After the city of Totambu seceded and went over to Elinhir, the king sent more warriors to Dak'Fron, since it looked like the same thing might happen there. About a year after he was sent there, my father was standing guard at the main well when a mob of Crowns came and started haranguing him. More Sentinel warriors saw it and came to stand with him. Then the mob started throwing rocks, one of the warriors fell, and things got out of control."

"When it was all over, thirteen of the Crowns were dead, and twice that were laid up in the temple for healing." Chance scowled, and looked back down at his father's mace. "That is when King Lhuton showed his true colors. To appease the masses, he put my father on trial and found him guilty of the massacre. He used him as a scapegoat."

"Well, my father's friends knew the meaning of loyalty, even if the king did not." Chance spat in the grass. "They broke him out of prison, and gave him a camel and enough food and water to get across the desert. That was four years ago, and since then we'd get a letter from him once and while. The last one was posted from the Imperial City in Second Seed."

"So you decided to come find him," Teresa said.

"Aye," Chance replied. "I turned eighteen last month. My mother and I had a huge argument about it. She didn't want me to leave Sentinel. I can't see how she can stay, with the way the king betrayed us, and how my father's name is dragged through the mud. But I guess after all the work she put into that tavern - and the money she still owes on it - she just can't up and leave. I'll tell you one thing, I'll never get so tied down to one place or thing that it becomes more important than justice. Never!"

Teresa nodded. What was there she could say? "I'm sorry Chance." She laid what she hoped was a comforting hand on the young man's steel-clad shoulder. "I have no idea what this must be like. I just wish you didn't have to find out like this."

"Better it come from a friend than a stranger," the Redguard said, then looked back down at the bones of his father.

"Come on," Teresa said. "Let's go back to the boat and tell Aleron were still- here." She had meant to say 'still alive', but stopped herself before stepping on her tongue. "Then we can come back and bury him."

Chance rose to his feet, lifting his father's mace in his hands. He turned the bronze weapon one way and another, seemingly entranced by it. "You said a necromancer did this. I swear by Ruptga, Leki, Onsi, Talos, Akatosh, and every other god and monster, that I will find that fetcher and kill him! If it's the last thing I do!"

"And I will help you do it," Teresa breathed.

I really loved this segment - the return to Vilverin. Aleron's grumpiness when asked about his day at the Arena, the discussion between Teresa and Chance about the caliber of leadership at the Imperial Chapter, and the quiet voyage up the east side of the Lake.

I'm not so sure I like that offer. Lord knows where those hands (and other body parts) may have been, or where they may end up!

The return to Vilverin and Chance's reaction to finding his father's bones was quite powerful. The raven adds a note of foreboding portent (why would the bird be there unless danger lay ahead? It's like Akatosh's presence for Julian).

The story Chance tells of his father's exile adds an extra dimension to your Redguard Errol Flynn, and makes him more than just a ladycharmer.

One nit: You have torn twice in one sentence. Maybe drop the second torn completely?

Overall just wonderful on so many levels.

Chapter 31.6: Old habits really do die hard, don't they, Simplicia? Hmm, I seem to have paraphrased someone... I wonder who it could be?

It's nice that Teresa is not so quick to judge others as her mother. Simplicia strikes me as a woman who's opinions are easily colored, and this chapter was very befitting of her. Of course, it may be the many years of prostitution and poverty speaking...

Nit:

"But how did Vols got involved?"

Perhaps you meant "get?"

Chapter 31.7: I very much enjoyed Teresa's vision of the Ayleid city coming back to life! Maybe not the slaves toiling away at the docks, but everything else was beautiful.

Some very nice backstory for Chance's father, as well. It adds a lot to Chance's plight, knowing that his father was once a hero, but was demonized by a puppet ruler and had his reputation demolished. That's harsh.

Time to go necro-hunting! This time, Teresa, you kill him dead!

"Well, I don't forget who my friends are," Chance said. "When you need it, you can count on me being there. With both hands."

and

I'll tell you one thing, I'll never get so tied down to one place or thing that it becomes more important than justice.

The Chance Doctrine comes into view, and there’s more to the unrepentant charmer. Although I did giggle thinking he had to specify both hands since he seems to use one to lead himself around by the Johnson.

"And I will help you do it," Teresa breathed.

Yay! Looks like we’ll get some more Chance, and that teamwork Teresa was talking about in 31.6. Very exciting!!

The glimpse into the IC guild hall was a fine affirmation that Teresa and Chance have chosen well in Bravil.

'Methredhel had certainly repaid the favor ten-fold since then, she mused. Adanrel on the other hand… She looked back to Chance, and wondered which he would take after? '
Here you show us aspects of what I suspect may be forming Teresa's doctrine. This is most effective because you do so using TF characters that we know well.

Raven was most welcome, as was the breathtaking glimpse into the Arimer ruin that stepped through thousands of years to reach Teresa's eyes.

The leg bone bearing evidence of an old break was effective confirmation of the skeleton's identity. Teresa again, shows her empathy here - toward Chance this time.

haute ecole rider: That is my swashbuckling blackguard, tearing up the place twice in one sentence! I never thought of Chance as being a Redguard Errol Flynn, but it does fit! Captain Chance Blood!


Thomas Kaira: Get indeed. Simplicia is indeed someone who jumps to conclusions about people, often negative ones, and holds on to those ideas. Something that thankfully for Vols, Teresa did not inherit from her.

The massacre at Dak'Fron was inspired by the Boston Massacre. The only real difference is that where the British soldiers had a Patriot lawyer like John Adams to acquit them, Destri did not.


Grits: I don't think Chance leads himself by his johnson, rather it leads him, and he hangs on for dear life! Plenty of that teamwork coming up in this next chapter, especially in segments 2 & 3.


Acadian: I was originally going to have a scene in the guild hall, but decided against it as it would have detracted from the main thrust of the chapter too much - that of not only Chance and his father, but also of parents and family in general (which we saw with Teresa and Simplicia, and of course Decimus and his family in Silverbridge). So I took a page from the h.e.r. book and just presented it in a brief flashback and dialogue.

The broken bone was also something I needed to clinch the identity of Destri. I needed something that would be conclusive, but still be visible on corpse that was months old. The idea of the mended bone jumped out at me, thanks to seeing several dinosaur bones like that, which were broken and healed (btw. A T-Rex legbone has been found like that. Meaning that in order for it to live to heal, another T-Rex must have hunted for it and brought it the kills to eat).


Next: Teresa et al. sail back to Bravil, but take a little detour along the way.


Chapter 32.1 - Culotte

8th-10th Hearthfire, 3E433

Sailing south from Vilverin late in the afternoon, Teresa, Chance, and Aleron spent the night in Sideways. In the morning they set out southward for Bravil. Teresa was tempted to leave them and head back to the Imperial City. She never had the chance to meet Methredhel, Volsinius, or Nerussa during their brief stop a few days before.

But she had come this far with Chance in his journey to find his father. Something in her told her that she owed it to him to see him the entire way back to Bravil. She knew it was a silly thought. He was no child, and could certainly hold his own if there was danger. Possibly better than she could! Yet she could just not shake the feeling that she would be deserting her guild mate.

So she stayed, and soon found herself longing to see the smile of Tadrose Helas. She had bought a copy of one of Juno Austenius' books from Jensine - this one named Pride and Prejudice - and had already begun to read it on the voyage home. Tadrose had been right, it was very witty, and was quick to point out the ironies that filled stuffy patrician society. She could not wait to surprise the vice-commander with her knowledge of the book. Perhaps they might even see that play together after all…

On their third day out from Vilverin the ruins of Culotte rose from the water, now to Teresa's left as they sailed south. As she stared, a conspiracy of ravens winged above the ancient city, croaking loud enough for her to clearly hear them from the main channel of the river in which they sailed. After whirling around in the air above Culotte for several long moments, they settled down atop the broken stones. Even though they were only tiny specks in the distance, the forester had the distinct impression that they were all looking at her.

Screenshot

That was all the prompting Teresa needed. Chance or not, she had to go. She hastily stowed her book away in her Thieves Bag, which hung securely from her belt by the slits cut into it. Then she drew forth a flax string for her bow, and bracing the stave against the bottom of the boat to lend her more leverage, she set it to the nocks.

"What's wrong?" Aleron's voice rang out behind her, and Teresa thought she detected a hint of worry in his tone. "Are we in trouble?"

"No trouble," Teresa calmly replied. "I'm getting off here. You two keep on for Bravil. I'll walk the rest of the way."

"What!" Chance's eyes goggled as she stared at her from the prow. "Are you crazy? You'll drown in all that gear before you even get near the shore."

"I can breathe underwater," Teresa said with a faint smile. She rose to her feet with care, lest her motion tip the boat. "I'll be fine."

"Wait!" Now it was Aleron's turn to cry out. "Are you mad? Where do you think you're going?"

"Over there." Teresa pointed to the Arimer ruin that slowly drifted past on the eastern bank of the river. "There's something in there, something waiting for me."

"Have you gone madder than Emperor Pelagius?" the Breton fisherman replied. "Those places are nothing but bad luck. We're making good time now thanks to the current. We'll be back home tomorrow morning, maybe even tonight. If you really want to kill yourself, you can come back later."

Teresa looked from Aleron to Chance, then finally back to the ravens waiting patiently in the ruins. She did not like leaving the Redguard, not after all they had been through with his father. But if she had learned anything from Raven, it was never to ignore him.

"Sorry." She shook her head. "I can't explain why. I just have to do this. Don't worry, I'll be fine. I'm in the Fighters Guild after all."

"Damn right you'll be fine," Chance declared, "'cause I'm going with you."

"Chance you don't have to-" Teresa was cut short by Aleron's response.

"Are you daft too!" the fisherman now stared at the Redguard. "Come on, let's just go home!"

"No." Now it was Chance's turn to shake his head as he stared at Teresa. "I meant what I said before. I'm here to back you up. My father's friends did not forget him, and I'm not about to forget you. Where you go, I go."

"Chance it doesn't mean that-" This time it was the Redguard's upraised hand that cut Teresa short.

"Yes it does. If you're going, so am I. That's all there is to it," he declared. Then his gaze turned to the water between them and the shore. "Although I don't know how I'm going to get there…"

"Alright, alright," Aleron grumbled. He leaned on the tiller, bringing them into a hard turn that took them east. "Though you're damned fools…"

Chance began pulling on his armor as best he could within the boat. After a few moments Teresa leaned forward to help him. Plate armor was certainly excellent protection, she thought as she strapped one piece after another onto the Redguard's body. But it sure took a long time for someone to get into and out of.

In the meantime Aleron had pulled down the sail, and was now rowing for shore. As they neared the riverbank, Teresa saw that a circular colonnade rose from the waves. Its roof was long gone, along with the stained glass that she imagined once filled the spaces between columns. They sailed past without a word, and now Aleron had to slow the dory in order to navigate through more broken pieces of stone that jutted from the water.

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"This is close enough," Teresa said, holding up one hand in front of Aleron. "We can wade in from here."

Before the Breton could answer, she was over the side. Sliding gracefully into the water, she found it was only waist-deep. She reached out with one hand to steady the dory and bring it to a halt. A moment later Chance was splashing loudly into the water in front of the craft, Ncharcasti gripped in one hand, and a small, kite-shaped shield in the other.

"Stay here," he said, turning back to face Aleron. "It'll be safer."

The Redguard waited for Teresa to take the lead, and then the two fighters made their way onto the beach. Drawing a mithril-tipped arrow from the bag at her hip, Teresa set it to the nock of her bow as she stepped lightly onto the strand. Her head was on a swivel, looking in every direction for signs of danger.

The ruin was quiet and still however. The only sounds were the lapping waves, the clanking of Chance's armor, and the occasional caw of a raven. Looking down at the ground, Teresa found a long, wide drag-mark leading from the water. Around it were several sets of footprints that went off deeper into the ruin.

"Here's where that boat landed." She pointed to the tracks so that Chance would see. "The one we saw when we came up from Bravil."

"Well, whoever they were, they left in a hurry," Chance replied. Leaning down behind a broken stone, he lifted an arming sword in one hand. Its long, double-edged blade tapered to a sharp point, and glinted brightly in the afternoon sun. "They took care of their steel too. Not a speck of rust on it."

Teresa moved deeper inland, into a maze of crumbling white stone. A star well glowed before her, the fountain of its magicka reaching back into the sky from whence it originally came. Nearby the well rose a circular building that was still mostly intact. The broken columns that once formed a colonnade ringed its peak, surrounding a statue of an elf being carried aloft by a great eagle. A double-sided door of typical Arimer design sat at ground level, both sides closed.

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Teresa crept to the star well and thrust one hand into the geyser of magicka. She instantly felt the energy rush into her, filling her with power until it seemed that she would nearly burst from it.

She motioned for Chance to follow suit, but the Redguard shook his head. A look of distaste crossed his features, and once more Teresa remembered what he had said about magic the first day she had met him: "A Redguard warrior does not practice eastern magic!"

Teresa had no idea what the Redguards had against magic. Of all the things to be prejudiced against, magic had to be the stupidest one! she mused. Not using magic when you could was like cutting off your nose to spite your face. Yet if she had learned anything as a Bosmer on the streets of the Imperial City, prejudice had nothing to do with reason, or even self-interest.

Scanning the area beyond the well, she saw no sign of enemies. Giving Chance a hand signal to show that all was clear, she made her way back to the round building. She saw that there were fresh footprints in the dirt at the entrance, going both in and out. She pointed that out to Chance, and then without a word opened the doors.

Once again you enchant us with beautiful descriptions and lovely screenshots. Culotte is one of the more hauntingly beautiful Ayleid ruins. The fact that the surface ruins are rarely inhabited by anything other than woodland and shore creatures just makes it all the more lovely. Unlike Vilverin, Sercen and a few other places that have been claimed by bandits or other mortals, Culotte looks like it did when the Ayleids left it for the last time (except for the effects of time and weather, of course).

The argument Teresa and Chance have in the boat is winsome, too. I liked how he got all manly and chivalric on her, though I'm sure that's just his nature to back up a friend and guildmate (which is probably how he sees her, not as a romantic/lusty conquest). Seems to me that it would stick in his craw to let her go in there by herself. Score one for the buddy system! Julian's nodding her head in agreement, though I've reminded her that she's gone into plenty of Gates by herself!


Seems to me that a word is missing here, where I've suggested at.

Out of all the delightful images that this chapter evoked in my mind, this has got to be my favorite:

How fun, an adventure! Teresa gets to explore more Ayleid Arimer ruins again! Maybe this one is where that dastardly necromancer has taken up residence in? I sure hope so, Chance deserves his vengeance.

Also, if you wish to delve deeper into Ayleid Arimer magic, I understand that they were well practiced at Geomancy, or rather the art of harnessing the magicks inherent to various stones and crystals. Welkynd and Varla stones are their crowning achievement here, but with study (and the right resources) you might be able to coax that same power out of ordinary valuable gems.

Let me know if you are interested, because this will mean a giant leap in terms of gameplay for you.

EDIT: That makes 400.

Hauntingly ominous! The approach to Culotte here is scary more for what we don't see than what we do in this well-crafted episode.

I'd listen to Raven just like Teresa did, but I sure hope she (Raven) knows what we're doing. Gulp!

In the discussion between Chance and Teresa in the boat, you really 'showed' what it means to belong to the Bravil Guild of Fighters. Here you have two fighters - and neither will abandon the other. Beautiful.

I look forward to the possibility that you might show us a touch of what our archer can do when she has a tank of steel to afford her a safe firing perch. And similarly, how well she can protect her tank by attriting approaching attackers.

Nit?
"Though you're a bunch of damned fools…"
This is much more of a question actually and perhaps no change is indicated. Aleron was talking to Teresa and Chance. This would suggest consideration be given to the words 'pair' or 'couple' as opposed to 'bunch' of fools. Now, if your intention was for Aleron to be referring to the whole crazy crew that comprises the Bravil guild of fighters, then 'bunch' is certainly appropriate. Simply take a peek and see what you think.

Yet she could just not shake the feeling that she would be deserting her guild mate.

I love to see that she feels this way, because then Chance shows her that he does, too.

Floating down the river reading Pride and Prejudice, aaah. Now I'm excited to see what’s behind the door. Will we hear battle music?

haute ecole rider: Score one for the buddy system indeed. This is Chance's chance to show what he is made of, and he is not going to pass it up.


Thomas Kaira: Geomancy is exactly the kind of mod I never use. I am more interested in using less spells and extras, rather than more. The mods I use (and create), are ones that simplify gameplay, or add new clothing, weapons, or armor (basically for the looks).


Acadian: This chapter does indeed show the measure of the Bravil FG. Both from Pappy's training, and just his much more picky Post-Bruma eye when it comes to hiring people on.


Grits: Maybe Teresa should have read Pride and Prejudice and Zombies! Battle music coming up!


Chapter 32.2 - Culotte

As Arimer doors always did, the stone portals slid aside as if they were light as parchment. A stair led down into darkness, and Teresa drew forth her night eye goggles in order to see. Then the air behind her was lit with the soft light of a glowstone, and Teresa gave Chance the signal to halt. She knew that he had to see, but she also knew that his light would reveal her if she was too close to him.

Moving on, she scouted ahead alone. Soon she came upon a circular arcade, exactly like the one near the entrance to Vilverin. A column of stone ran up through the center of the chamber, and a staircase turned around it in a circle to her right, dropping ever deeper into the bowels of Nirn.

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The sound of cloth scuffing on stone came to Teresa's ears. Then she smelled it. The sweet, putrid stench of recent death. Slinking to one side, she climbed out along a ledge that jutted out over the stairwell and set one hand against the cold stone of the central column. Peering into the grey world of night eye, she found the author of both the smell and sound.

It had been a human, a Nibenean from its jet black hair. It was dressed in leather armor that was torn open in the torso, and bore dark stains all along the front of its body. She could see its ribs exposed, and now she noticed that its chest did not rise and fall with breath. It seemed oblivious to her presence, and shuffled behind the columns of the arcade with that stiff, awkward stride of all zombies.

Teresa waited until it shambled out of view, and then carefully sneaked back to the entrance. She found Chance just inside the door, and stepped into the light of the glowstone that dangled from his belt. Holding up a single finger on her hand, she signaled him that there was one enemy ahead. Then she signaled that he should hold his ground, and that she would lure it back to him. He nodded, and Teresa silently thanked Pappy for their training.

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Reaching into one of her belt pouches, she drew forth a shield potion. Pulling the stopper, she lifted it to her lips and knocked it back. A golden disc formed above her, only to fall to her feet a moment later. As the yellow light faded into her body, she re-corked the bottle and tucked it into her Thieves Bag. There was no sense wasting the glass after all, she thought.

Then Teresa melted back into the darkness and returned to the arcade and stairwell. Setting an arrow to the nock of her bow, she waited until the zombie stepped between columns. Then she quickly drew the string back to half tension. Releasing half the breath in her lungs, she sighted in on the shambling monster. Then the feathers of her arrow were caressing her cheek, and an instant later it was in flight.

The zombie lurched as the missile drilled into it with a meaty thump! A deep, disturbing murmur escaped its throat as it stopped to look around itself. How on Nirn could they make those sounds? Teresa wondered. They didn't breathe, and she could see that half of this one's lungs were missing in fact.

She had another arrow in her hand by the time the zombie's glassy eyes latched onto her. It lumbered forward with surprising quickness, and met the arrow as its feet reached the steps atop which Teresa stood. Drawing a third arrow from her bag, Teresa did not take the time to string it and shoot. Instead she whirled and sprinted down the hallway from which she had come, where the light of Chance's glowstone shone like a beacon.

Teresa stopped half-way through and readied her bow. She knew the light would silhouette her in the center of the hall. But against a zombie she did not care. It was not something that could hurl magic at her, as a ghost could. As soon as the monster rose into view, she sent another arrow to greet it. Yet still it plodded forward at a run.

Those zombies take a lot of killing before going down, Teresa mused. No living man would have been standing with three arrows in him. She knew it was wearing armor, but against her mithril points, the leather might as well have been parchment.

Teresa turned and fled down the hall once more. Now Chance moved up, stepping in front of her. He waited coolly as the zombie lumbered up to him, and let it reach out to claw at him. Once it was committed to its attack, he used his shield to push the monster's arms aside. A moment later Ncharcasti smashed its skull into a pulp. The corpse flopped down motionless on the floor, and Chance followed up with several more blows to the torso.

Better safe than sorry, Teresa thought as she watched the Redguard pummel the remnants of the zombie. When it was plain that it would never get back up again, she finally spoke.

"That must have been one of the people who came in the boat," she said quietly.

"Yeah," Chance grimaced, doubtlessly from the smell wafting from the corpse. It was even worse now that he had mangled it further with his blows. For a moment Teresa wondered if this was the first time the Redguard had ever killed. If putting down a zombie could be described as such. "But what did this to him?"

Teresa shrugged. "We'll find out." She did not say what she was thinking however. It was just like Vilverin. Did that mean a necromancer? she wondered. There had been zombies in Nagastani as well though, but no death-mages. So perhaps not.

Then she took the lead once more, and they continued into the depths beyond the arcade. Teresa found that the winding stair led down to a stone walkway that rose over a pair of corridors that ran to either side. Rusty chandeliers hung from the ceiling here, suspending large glowstones within their metal cages. Each corridor ended with a line of stone niches that ran from the ceiling to the floor, yawning empty in the gloom. The wood elf wondered if that was a good or bad as she continued forward.

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Eventually she found a stair that led further down, and curled back in the direction from which they came. She found herself in a hallway that bisected the corridors that she had seen from above, running parallel to the walkway overhead. She moved with care, as there were many corners around which anything might lurk. After finding one zombie already in the ruin, she knew there was likely to be more, and no telling what else.

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Once again, she smelled the next zombie before she saw it. Setting an arrow to her bowstring, she peeked around each corner that she came to. Finally she found herself staring face to face with a Khajiit that was missing one arm. Like the first zombie, it too wore leather armor that was stained with dried blood.

It saw her at the same time she saw it, and lurched forward with a deep-throated groan. Teresa leaped back out of reflex and raised her bow. There was no time for careful aim. She simply pulled the string to her cheek and loosed. Thankfully she was close enough that it was nearly impossible to miss, and the mithril point of her arrow buried itself deeply into the monster's chest.

The zombie lurched under the force of the point-blank shot. Then it stumbled forward once more, its single hand reaching out greedily for Teresa's flesh. The wood elf turned and fled back the way she had come. Turning a corner, she found Chance waiting with weapon in hand.

"Zombie!" she gasped, "only one."

The Redguard looked around, then nodded to the end of the hallway from which Teresa had just come. "Bait the trap," he said, "and I'll catch our mouse."

Teresa smiled faintly, instantly understanding what the man had in mind. Stepping back into the hallway, she saw the zombie shambling closer. Pulling open the mouth of her Thieves Bag, she slid her strung bow into its depths. Simplicia had been right, she thought, the weapon did fit with ease into the magic bag.

Backing up to the end of the hall, she drew her mithril parrying dagger in her left hand. When she felt hard stone at her back, she called up her magicka in her right hand. Focusing on the image of her Burning Hand spell, she could feel the energy bubbling under the skin of her fingers.

In the meantime Chance stepped up to the corner with Ncharcasti held behind his head, and waited just outside of the zombie's view. It continued down the hall, completely intent upon Teresa. It stepped past him, single arm reaching out for her. Then Chance burst into action, mace crunching deeply into the zombie's hip.

The monster was driven into the wall opposite Chance, and collapsed onto the floor in a heap. It thrashed at Teresa, but could not rise with its pelvis shattered. The wood elf slid away along the back wall of the corridor, moving further out of its reach. In the meantime Chance stepped closer, and sent another blow to the base of the zombie's neck. The creature's vertebrae snapped like kindling, and its head flopped down like a wet noodle. The Redguard followed with another blow to its head, but by now the zombie had ceased to stir.

"You were right," he said, turning to Teresa. "I'll never complain about drill again. We'd have never been able to do that without all those hours on the practice field."

"And I'd rather be here with you than anyone from the Imperial City chapter," Teresa said honestly. Sheathing her dagger, she pulled her bow from her Thieves Bag and drew another arrow. Then she turned her gaze to the dead Khajiit at their feet.

"This one is fresh too," she observed. "Another of the visitors."

"Aye," Chance sighed. "Let's just make sure we don't end up like them."

An excellent summation of how the buddy system works! Too bad I can't get the NPC's in the game to be this useful!

I'm sure those with experience of the buddy system in combat will find nits to pick, but I found it all very believable. And Chance is proving himself with these stinky opponents! I see our conversation so long ago about dead bodies continue to pay off for you.

I love that the zombies are easily recognizable as what they used to be. It makes them horrifying for what happened to them, not just what they can do. Teresa really kept her composure during the zombie chase. It’s fun to watch their training pay off.

How fun! We're fighting zombies of former ship mates... left 4 dead no doubt.

Teresa's and Chance's teamwork was great! I wasn't too sure about Chance at first, but now he really is growing on me. He seems like a very loyal friend to have. I'm glad he has such honor.

What lurks deeper inside the ruins, though? Hopefully no wraiths... I don't think Chance would like those much. I'm still speculating that a certain necromancer might be the cause, but we'll soon see.

'she re-corked the bottle and tucked it into her Thieves Bag. There was no sense wasting the glass after all, she thought.'
I got a smile from this. As many potions as Teresa makes, this is very prudent. Reuse those vials!

Excellent teamwork between Teresa and Chance! Running back to the safety of her tank is a wonderful feeling for an archer. Then Teresa and Chance went on to display some 'Pappy training' by setting a trap for the bag of cat bones. Well done!

That new Thieves Bag really comes in handy!

Gosh, there's clearly something going on here in this ruin. The suspicious boat on the way up to the IC, a call from Raven, and now fresh zombies. I'm looking forward to learning what lies deeper in this Arimer ruin.