I love how you bring NPC's to life
For a moment I thought Teresa was gonna go after Morcant. I have a dark premanition about the outcome of that expedition.

I find it interesting that, in her exasperation, Teresa does not invoke the name of one of the Nine Divines or a god of the Aldmeri pantheon. She seems more at home taking the name of a Daedric Princess (Nocturnal) in vain. That along with another appearance by Raven (another creature of darkness) makes me wonder if it is a vestige of her upbringing on the Waterfront, or is there something else at play?


This reminds me of The Fellowship of the Ring, when Galadriel gives Frodo the Phial of Galadriel “to be a light when all others fail.”

I hope we are only bidding Morcant ‘farewell’ as opposed to ‘goodbye’.

- As for the armor being designed by a man:

Speaking as a man (and I believe that, in this case, I can speak for most of us), our favorite thing about lingerie is how easy it is to remove! If women are so dead set against the clothing that men design then please, by all means, disrobe and walk around naked. We won’t mind a bit!

haute ecole rider: Thank you h.e.r. At least it is nowhere near as bad as most of the "armor" mods for female characters.


Remko: Thank you Rem.


Destri Melarg: You are right, it does kind of seem like that scene with Galadriel. Now Morcant will have to be played by Cate Blanchett. Not a bad proposition at all!

Teresa does not have a clue who any of the Aldmeri gods are. She barely knows who any of the Nine are either. She only knows what she hears people talk about in the streets, and from missionaries out to save the souls of of the poor. It is not like she has ever gone to chapel even once in her life. Being a street urchin, Nocturnal is pretty much her deity by default. But Teresa is rather ambivalent about Nocturnal too, the same way the Thieves Guild are. Everyone she knows uses Nocturnal's name in vain, and says "Shadow Hide You/Me". Other than that, she really does not really know or think much about Nocturnal either.

Morcant ought to figure into at least one more chapter in the near future. But beyond that I am not certain.

Since you want to see naked women, let me dig up those nude photos of Rosie O'Donnell and Rosanne Barr and start posting them. I am sure that is what every man wants to see...


* * *

Chapter 9a – On The Road

17th - 26th Midyear, 3E433

Teresa made her way east from Morcant's cottage, her pale features slathered with the Witch's sun cream. The wood elf felt strange traveling in full daylight. Yet she could not deny how much easier it was to pick out plants with alchemical properties in the gloom beneath the thick canopy of tree-tops. She imagined that she would have missed half of them if she had traveled at night, unless she wore her Night Eye goggles of course.

Even more importantly, traveling in the day made finding her meals simple, as she was now living completely off the land. What surprised her was how tasty many of the wild plants were. The sedge reminded her of leeks, and were quite good. Sheep sorrel was very tangy, creating an explosion of flavor on her tongue. Purslane was a bit sour, but otherwise pleasant as well. Other plants, such as chickory, did not do much for her at all. She found herself making mental notes of which ones she would save to use with regular food in the future. She could not wait until Simplicia could taste some of it!

She was making her way up the eastern slopes of the valley when the sound of a crow caught her attention. Its guttural cries came from somewhere ahead of her, and something about it put her on edge. Drawing the bow stave from her back and fishing out a string from the pouch across her chest, she quickly set to readying the weapon.

By the time she was finished stringing the bow, the forester heard footsteps crackling in the leaves upslope from her. Then came harsh, screeching tones that might have been a form of speech. Something about the sound was familiar, as if she had heard it before, yet Teresa could not quite place it.

Scuttling behind the wide trunk of an oak, she crouched down and waited, one eye peering from around its concealing bark. Then she remembered where she had heard the noise. It had been in the sewer beneath the Imperial Prison. Goblins!

Slowly the forester drew an arrow from the at bag her right hip and set it to the nock of her bow. A moment later the authors of the sounds came into view through the trunks of the trees. It was a group of goblins, at least half-a-dozen, if not more. The body of a wild boar was suspended from a long wooden pole hoisted onto the shoulders of several of the short, grey creatures. Most of them carried spears with roughly-chipped flint heads, and wore nothing but simple loincloths of hide. A few had axes of crude iron tucked into their belts and sported grisly armor of leg and arm bones sewn together into vests.

Cacat! the forester cursed inwardly. It was the Bone Eater tribe, just as Morcant had warned her about. Leaning her head back behind the tree, the wood elf remained as still and silent as she could. Shadow hide me, she prayed.

She knew that goblins were not that strong individually. But the last thing she wanted was to get into a fight with so many of them. She knew that they would simply overwhelm her with numbers. Then one of them would get in a lucky blow and it would be all over for her, regardless of her new magical armor.

So Teresa hid, and held her breath as the short, lanky creatures made their way down the sloping ground in front of her. The creatures hauling the boar made frequent grunts as they toiled under the burden. The others talked loudly among themselves in that screeching language of theirs.

Well, at least they were not making any effort to conceal their movements, the wood elf ruminated as the goblins vanished into the trees down the ridge. They had gotten their kill already, so Teresa imagined that they no longer felt the need to be stealthy. If she had encountered them while they were still on the hunt however, it probably would have been another matter entirely.

Thank you Raven, she thought, waiting until at last the forest was silent and still once more. Then she waited a little longer, just in case a straggler came along. When finally she was satisfied that the goblins were long gone, Teresa rose to her feet again and scampered up the hillside in the opposite direction.

* * *

Three days later she came to a crude path of two wagon-wheel ruts worn deeply into the ground, her first sign that she had returned to civilization. Following the track south, she found that the forests of oak and pine had given way to farms and orchards. The wood elf came to the wide pavestones of the Blue Road not long after. By now the mountains not only loomed high to the north, but directly ahead to the east as well.

After passing several small villages, the grey walls of Cheydinhal rose before her eyes. Its many round towers ended in tall, slender peaks, rather than the flat, open-topped battlements that she had seen all around Chorrol's walls. These looked more graceful, she thought as she made her way to the city gates. Yet her archer's eye still picked out numerous slits in the tower walls that would allow one to fire down at the ground below.

As at Chorrol, she found that two men clad in mail and carrying arming swords waited at the gate. They wore dark brown surcoats whose chests were a lighter shade of tan and decorated with the image of numerous green vines wrapping about one another in a regular, geometric pattern. The oval body shields they carried bore a similar knotwork emblem in two shades of green on a brown background.

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Teresa fell in behind a farmer and what Teresa took to be his two sons leading a cart laden with huge bundles of hay into the city. The guards waved them through without pausing to examine the cargo. When Teresa came next they looked her up and down with narrowed eyes however, and she found herself wondering how good an idea it was to be wearing armor favored by bandits.

"What brings you to Cheydinhal?" one of the soldiers asked in a somewhat guarded tone. Teresa noted that he had the dark eyes and complexion of an Imperial as he eyed the sack of loot she had slung over her shoulder.

"I have things to sell that I took off some bandits, and the necromancer that killed them." Teresa decided that she might as well try honesty. She was doing enough other new things lately that it seemed worth giving it a go as well. "I've got some potions to brew up and sell too. Is there a good inn I could stay at for the night?"

"Ah one of those foresters are ye?" said the other guard. At the first sound of his voice Teresa knew he was a Breton. They all seemed to have that soft, sing-song quality to their speech. Then she noticed that his eyes were not looking at her own, but rather wandered lower on her leather-clad frame.

"Try the Newlands Lodge, you'd probably fit in there," said the Imperial. At least his eyes remained on her own, Teresa thought as she moved on into the city. Morcant had been right, her armor had definitely been made by a man!

She found that Cheydinhal was much like Chorrol on the inside. The main avenues were of solid cobblestone, giving way to side streets and alleys of hard-packed dirt. Two and even a few three-storied buildings rose up everywhere she looked. With ground floors of carefully mortared stones, their upper reaches were of lighter daub and wattle. All grew to narrow, high-peaked roofs like those of the watchtowers spaced along the outer walls.

The streets were busy with people moving to and fro. Farmers in scruffy flax, artisans in finer linen, and finally patricians in their velvet. Some of the wealthy rode on horses, and many of the peasants led carts laden with hay and other produce of the first harvest. While most were Imperials as she expected, Teresa's eye spotted many ashen-skinned Dunmer among them as well. More than she usually saw in a city. She had heard that Morrowind was over the mountains to the east, and wondered if many had come from there?

Teresa imagined that the crowds were large by local standards, yet to her Imperial City dweller's eye the streets seemed half-empty. Anytime she could walk without nearly bumping into someone else it felt that way. Teresa found that she much preferred this to the stifling throngs of the Market District. At least here there was elbow-room, she thought.

The wood elf saw that the Newlands Lodge was on her left as soon as she entered the city, and made a mental note to stop back later when she was finished making her rounds. Following the main road deeper into the settlement, she came to a narrow river that cut through its center. A covered wooden bridge spanned the waterway directly ahead of her, and the high peak of a chapel rose into the sky beyond. To her left she could see the towers and walls of the castle, and the main road turned to her right to follow the course of the river.

I loved your description of Cheydinhal. It is one of the most fascinating places in the game - it is beautiful to look at, with charming architecture, wonderful willows by the river, and picturesque bridges, yet it has a dark, seedy side to it when you get to know some of the locals. You have the Orum gang doing their best to pick a fight with you, corrupt guardsmen fining people for littering, and a hidden Dark Brotherhood sanctuary. It's this dichotomy that makes the place so fascinating for me. Rich story material here!

I found the difference in the guards' reaction to Teresa's armor interesting. Imperials don't look at our stringy Bosmer because she is a wood elf? But Breton men are less discriminating? Hmm?

If Teresa is uncomfortable with those kinds of stares, may I suggest a cloak? I know there aren't any in Oblivion, but there were some in Morrowind, I believe, so it stands to reason that cloaks exist in Oblivion the way bathtubs and toilets do.

I did see one nit: May I suggest that worn would be better here.

I'm not a big fan of fiction revolving around young girls/women, as too often they are flighty and too bimbo-ish for my taste, but I really enjoy Teresa. She's got a good head on her shoulders, and is a very quick study. An essential quality if she's going to survive on her own as a forester. You've done well with this, and I'm coming to like this better than the original. Keep it up!

I agree with haute. One of the things I like most about this is the realism you give to the dangers of the forest. From just minding your own business and tasting the edible plants to hiding behind the trunk of a tree while a group of goblins happens by, and all in a manner of seconds. I imagine there must be a visceral thrill to living one’s life in such communion with nature, and you seem to capture it in a way that makes it real to all of us.

Remembering how well you did Through a Nightmare, Darkly on the other board, I can’t help but wonder if Teresa will get involved in a sidequest or two during her stay in Cheydinhal. I would be interested in seeing her take on A Brush with Death, or Corruption and Conscience.

ohhhh.....I read the last three chapters with great pleasure. Hmmm you really know how to describe a witch...no wonder I'd say but it brings a shiver down my spine. You also have a "way with words", I love it it's as simple as that.

And rest assure I'll follow this beautiful woodie to the bitter end!



Oh....great screenies!

I've caught up now and, as ever, I'm loving it. Her leaving Morcant was nicely done and left me wanting to see more fo the witch. It also offered a chance to reflect on how much she has changed, and the development is really huge - great stuff.

I too like your description of Chedynhal which is my favourite city in Oblivion. The differences she noticed between it and Chorro were spot on. You also gave it a better degree of realism with the small villages surrounding it.

Brilliant line.

And haute - compared to the Imperial City Chedynhal is a rural place - of course the blokes are less picky there ;P

haute ecole rider: Thank you h.e.r. I like the look of Cheydinhal best of all the cities. My only real disappointment is the lack of many good alchemical plants in the nearby area. It is not a good place to start the with an alchemy-minded character, which most of mine are.

I would not judge the two races based on the reactions of only two men. Perhaps that particular Breton has a thing for Wood Nymphs, and maybe that Imperial prefers women with a little more meat on their bones? Or he simply has the professionalism not to openly stare...

A cloak would be a good idea. But it is midsummer in the TF, so she would not think of putting one on, at least yet. I have not had the chance to work in the date anywhere. I might be able to do that later in this chapter however, when Teresa reads a copy of the Black Horse Courier.

Quite right about worn too, fixed.


Destri Melarg: Thank you Dest. I am afraid the end of the world is on a rather tight deadline though, so Teresa will not have time for side-quests in Cheydinhal this time around. However, I am taking the time to lay the foundations for several of them while she is there. Hopefully sometime in the future she will get back and do some of them. (Or perhaps a certain Orisimer raised by two Altmer in the Mages Guild will...)


minque: Thank you minque. I am afraid what Foxy might say about your woodie comment though...


Olen: Thank you Olen. Morcant was a lot of fun to write, so I hope I can do more with her. She brings a great deal of hard-earned maturity to the table.

All the little farming villages are something I am working to emphasize in this chapter. Actually, most of this chapter is about world-building, and showing what life is like outside of the Imp City.

What game designers do not think about is where all the food comes from (well I guess in Oblivion food does not really matter, since people do not need to eat it for sustenance, it is merely an ingredient for Restore Fatigue potions.). Civilization (i.e. living in cities) is only made possible by agriculture. The bigger a city is, the more farms are required to support it. Without an encricling web of wheat and cornfields, and pastures for livestock, everyone in the cities would die in short order. They have a few small farms in the game, but they do not seem even large enough to support the people working them. More like little gardens really.

All: In this next post, Teresa explores Cheydinhal, meets some of its good and bad denizens, and eavesdrops on a conversation about a person whom she will one day come to know very well.

* * *

Chapter 9b – On The Road

A shop with a sign reading Borba's Goods and Stores rose up to her left, just before the bridge. On impulse Teresa turned and made her way inside. The air was cool and only dimly illuminated by light filtering in through the windows. She found all manner of goods arranged on shelves or jutting from barrels within, from shovels and picks, to crockery, to fine clothing of velvet and simple tunics of flax. Even a sword hung from one wall, along with an axe and a suit of heavy orcish armor.

Making her way past the other shoppers, Teresa found an Orisimer behind a counter near the back of the store. She wore an outfit of felt and linen that told Teresa that while she was not rich, neither was she poor. Her hair was bound up tightly behind her head in a long braid that fell down her back. Just as Claudette Perrick from the Gilded Carafe wore her own hair, Teresa thought off-handedly, and many other Breton women.

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"Good day stranger," the woman greeted Teresa as the forester set her bag of loot upon the counter. The merchant looked at the canvas sack with a rather unimpressed eye. "You must be new in town. I'm Borba gra-Uzgash, welcome to my store."

"Hello Borba, I'm Teresa," the forester forced a faint smile to her lips as she began drawing the welkynd stones from her pack. "I have some things I took from an Ayleid ruin that I'd like to sell."

"Oh a free adventurer are you?" the other woman said, her dark eyes showing more interest now. "I used to be one myself, back when I was your age. That's where I got the money to open up this shop."

After dickering with the orc over prices, Teresa finally let go of her loot for much less than she had hoped for. She was not sure if it was because the welkynd stones were not worth that much, or simply because her own haggling skills were so poor. She imagined it was the latter. People did not barter much in the Imperial City. Everyone was in such a hurry that there was never time. You laid down your money and got out of the way before the next person ran you over.

The only thing she kept was the book on Daedra, which she had not finished reading. Given the way things were, she planned to keep it even when she was done, although she had no idea where she would put it. It was not like she had a home after all. She would have to leave it with Simplicia, or maybe Methredhel.

Teresa found a smithy just beyond where the road bent at the river, and bought more arrows from the short, squat Imperial woman inside. With steel heads that were slender and leaf-shaped, she knew they would do well against armored opponents, although not as well as the style with the needle-like points did. The woman had tried to sell her much wider ones for hunting, but since the wood elf would never think of shooting a wild animal, she passed on those.

They might have been good against goblins though, she found herself thinking as she set her feet back into the street outside and made her way past the Fighters Guild. With their broad heads, they would be very effective against an unarmored enemy like them. Yet how would she tell them from her other arrows when they were in her bag? she wondered. Even if she had the fletching dyed a different color, she would not be able to tell the difference in the dark, even with her Night Eye goggles on.

A tall orc with a shaven head and dressed in red linen shoved his way past Teresa, even though there was plenty of room in the street around her. The forester immediately felt for her purse, and when she found it was still there, turned to stare at the thug's receding back. She was opening her mouth to call out something rude when a hand clapped on her shoulder and brought her around.

"Best to leave that one alone." Teresa found a dark elf standing before her, wearing the threadbare linen of either a workman or struggling artisan. His short, dark hair was combed back flat over his forehead, and his red eyes betrayed nothing but generosity. "He's one of the Orums. Bad business, mixing it up with them. Things are bad enough these days without making it worse."

"Local gangsters then?" Teresa asked. She realized that her heart was racing, and willed it to slow down as she breathed deeply. "I'm Teresa. I'm new in town. Thanks for the warning."

"Oh think nothing of it," the man said. "I'm Aldos, Aldos Othran. My wife and I make fine footwear. If you need a new pair of boots to go out hiking in the mountains, I'm your man. My shop's just down the road and to the right, past the Mages Guild. Now I'm off to pick up our lunch though."

"Thank you Aldos," Teresa said as the man vanished around the corner.

Continuing along the river, Teresa came to a circular plaza with the statue of a man she did not recognize in its center. She wondered if it might be some ancient leader of the city? Or even one of the Nine Divines? Either way, it completely slipped her mind when her eyes fell upon the familiar eye symbol of the Mages Guild. It was painted onto a sign in front of a towering three story building along the edge of the plaza. Making her way to the guild hall, she found the front door was open and let herself in.

Within she found a wide foyer with a long glass display case across from her. Inside were several welkynd stones, what she imagined were magicka gems, scrolls, and a staff. Tapestries depicting the opened eye of the guild decorated the walls, as did others with what she took for arcane symbols. The room was flanked by gently curving staircases rising to balconies on either side. She could also see chambers set slightly lower than the ground floor next to each, with a handful of steps leading down into them.

Looking at the glowing crystals in the display case, the wood elf had to fight the urge to slap her palm against forehead. She should have sold her loot here! the forester realized, the mages would have probably given her a better price for the magic crystals than Borba!

She heard the sound of voices emanating from one of the side chambers, and still shaking her head at her own foolishness, the forester stepped to the entryway of the room. Within she saw a glass counter filled with potions. The walls were lined with shelves containing more, as well as alchemical gear such as the alembic and retort that had broken in her bag.

A pair of high elves stood within the room. Both had blond hair and the characteristic amber eyes of their race. One was a woman clad in soft green velvet, her hair tied up behind her head in a bun. The man wore his hair swept back in the leonine mane that many elven men seemed to prefer. His frame was draped in red velvet decorated with intricate designs in purple and gold.

"He is miserable there," Teresa heard the woman say. "We never should have sent him to the University!"

"Nonsense, he never said that in his letter," the man replied. He spoke in that tone that most Altmer described as sophisticated, Teresa thought, yet everyone else called snooty. The wood elf saw him point down to a piece of parchment on the counter between the two of them. "Look here, he only says that he is trying his best."

"Oh you have to read between the lines Orintur," the woman went on, clearly sounding distressed. "Ancondil always says that when he hates something, and is only trying because he thinks it will please us. He is just not meant to be a magician as we are."

"He is only a late-bloomer is all," the man - Orintur - retorted. "He just needs the proper environment to build his focus and discipline, and then his abilities will come out. He has too many distractions here. The Arcane University will straighten him out in no time."

Teresa found herself feeling sorry for this Ancondil, whom she imagined was their son, and wondered if she should leave and come back some other time. She was turning back to the entryway when she heard one of the mages clear their throat behind her.

"You have a customer I see, and I really must finish enchanting those scrolls, or I'll never hear the end of it from that bounder Falcar. The world is going to Oblivion and all he cares about is the profit margin!" The man's voice now dripped with venom. Turning back, Teresa saw him brush past her with barely a nod, climbing the stairs beside the chamber to the second floor above.

"Good afternoon, I am Eilonwy," the woman now said, looking expectantly at the forester. Her voice betrayed none of the distress that the wood elf had detected just moments before. If Teresa had not overheard the conversation, she would have never imagined there was anything amiss at all.

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Teresa bought some empty potion bottles from the woman, and when she asked about Feather scrolls and potions, the Altmer sold her a copy of Patvir's Guide to Alchemical Ingredients. Within its voluminous pages she learned that she could use flax seeds to create Feather potions.

It would have been much simpler if the other woman had just told her that, the forester thought as she left the hall. But the guild would not have made any money that way, would it? Still, Teresa did not begrudge the book. Like the one on Daedra, she was certain it would come in handy in the future.

Ah, I remember Ancondil!

And did you change Borba's appearance? She looks nothing like the one in my game (stupid Xbox)!

No nits this time, just an enjoyable interlude, and a glimpse of a certain Dunmer before we are introduced to his drunken singing. Cliffracer, flies so hiiiiiiigh . . . This adds a certain note of tragedy to the upcoming quest. I like it!

minque: Thank you minque. I am afraid what Foxy might say about your woodie comment though...


I never comment about things I own.

Ah, but you just did!

I laughed when I read this, remembering the appalling number of times that I have made the same mistake as Teresa (and not just in Cheydinhal) and regretting it moments later.

I like the way that you introduce us to Aldos Othran before circumstance turns him into the town drunk. I also like the way that you delineate the characters of Orintur and Eilonwy through their disagreement. We even get some insight into the character of Falcar. And I never figured Ancondil as the son of Orintur and Eilonwy (Although having just written that, didn’t you mention something about that in the original?). I can only assume that he is adopted, unless something has changed.

I liked the development of Chedynhal. I agree with the above that seeing Aldos before his brief cameo with the guard adds a great deal more depth to that quest and makes more of him than the throwaway cardboard character in game.

I liked the mage's guild too, seeing a bit more character in them was good. It can't be long before they start complaining about the well water...


True in Tamriel and RL then.

haute ecole rider: One of the fun things about reediting and adding completely new chapters is adding foreshadowing about many of the characters who we will meet later.

I did change the orcs in my game. I am using the Cute Orc Head Replacer mod, that changes the meshes used for the orc heads, de-pigging them. In addition to that, I have created my own mod to change the features of most of the NPCs to make them easier on the eyes, as well as add racial characteristics, such as giving Nords only blond or red hair, etc...

For example, here is my Sir Mazoga


D.Foxy: I am trying not to comment about your woodie...


Destri Melarg: I am hoping that if I do use that quest, the little introduction of Aldos here will give lend some poignancy to his fate (assuming I do not change that). Likewise, with Eilonwy and Orintur, I wanted to give them a teeny bit of depth, especially Eilonwy, who only goes on and on about how wonderful her husband is in the game. The remark about Falcar was not only meant to show a bit about him personally, but also the entire Mages Guild as well. They are there to make money after all.

Ancondil did say he was adopted by high elves in the old Chapter 13 on the Beth forums (when Ancondil has dinner with Teresa). Hence his finely cultured manners, and use of the word "rapscallion!"


Olen: I laughed at your remark about the well water! Ewwww! I am glad you noted Teresa's thoughts on buying the book. It was a little way that I wanted to reinforce that the Mages Guild is first and foremost a business.


* * *

Chapter 9c – On The Road

Her most important chores finished, Teresa took the time to wander through the city for a while. She discovered a small island within the river that cut through the city. Crossing over to it via another of the covered wooden bridges, she found that it was filled with blooming flowers and small cherry trees with twisting boughs. From the banks of the island she could see that the river vanished through a long row of grates in the city wall, and the wood elf imagined it must continue on outside of the city.

After taking some time to admire the flowers and run her fingers across the grey bark of the trees, the wood elf crossed to the other side of the river. There she found more residences and a few shops. It was the chapel that dominated all however, its great steeple rising high into the sky, as if it were trying to scrape against the clouds.

The forester walked past the temple without a second glance and continued on her way through the city. She was struck by the memory of the card reading that Morcant had done for her, and the image of the Five of Pentacles, with the people on it struggling on their way with the stained glass windows of a chapel behind them. The wood elf lifted her eyes up - beyond the grey walls of the city - to the forested slopes of the mountains rising to the north and east. That was her temple, she thought with satisfaction, her holy place.

A crow called out from atop the gatehouse ensconced in the eastern wall of the city. The wood elf could not restrain a faint smile, and found herself waving at the sleek, black bird. The people around her stared in bewilderment, but Teresa did not care. She would never be spiritually destitute again.

In time the wood elf made her way back to the western gate of the city, where the Newlands Lodge waited. Within Teresa found that the publican was a Dunmer named Dervera Romalen. Her hair was a bright auburn and tied up behind her head by a handful of sticks. It was too brilliant to have been natural, Teresa noted, just like her own crimson mane. Yet it was very striking nonetheless, and the wood elf was reminded of Nerussa from the Wawnet Inn as she took in the pleasant view of the other woman's features. Yet unlike the Altmer proprietor, Dervera wore only simple clothing. A cream-colored chemise of worn linen under a dark brown bodice, and a lighter brown skirt trailing to her feet.

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Teresa wondered if all innkeepers in Cyrodiil were so attractive as she purchased a room for the night, along with a hot bath. She would have liked Dervera to join her in the latter as she washed away the dust and grime of her journey. How do you ask a woman to do that? she found herself wondering as she soaked in the tiny metal tub behind the common room of the inn. Men seemed to do it all the time. She would have to watch them, the forester resolved, to see how they did it.

Yet when Teresa returned from her bath, basking in that refreshing feeling of being clean once more, she found that her tongue had tied itself into knots as soon as she set her eyes on the attractive dark elf. Rather than make a fool of herself, the forester proceeded to her sparsely furnished room and spent the rest of the day making potions. It was well after dark when her growling stomach told her it was time to venture forth once more for dinner.

She found the common room of the inn was filled with customers by then. Most of them were either dark elves or orcs, and all were simple working people by their plain attire. They drank, ate, and celebrated as all people did in taverns, but the wood elf could see a hint of worry in all of their eyes, and hear a certain edge to their voices.

Teresa knew what they were thinking. What had happened to Kvatch, could happen here as well. It could happen anywhere. She heard a few people say as much, and others speak of a Legion from Morrowind that marched through town the week before. That would have been at the same time she had been with Morcant, she thought. If she had taken the road instead of the forest, she probably would have walked right into them, as she had the other soldiers outside of Vilverin.

Teresa noted the shoemaker Aldos Othran was there with a woman she took to be his wife, given how she was sitting on his lap. He was singing something about cliffracers - if his out-of-tune howls could be called singing - while she guzzled a mug of ale. The people around them had all turned around in their chairs to watch, and some kept time by clapping their hands or stamping their feet on the floor.

At least they looked happy, Teresa thought as she found a place to sit at the end of bar. The wood elf wondered what a cliffracer was? Then she found herself wondering how it would feel to sit in Dervera's lap when the Dunmer woman came by to take her order for dinner. The forester resisted the urge to say what she was thinking, and instead asked for a glass of shein and something without meat for dinner.

Her meal turned out to be a large, round piece of bread, hollowed out and filled with creamy mushroom and broccoli soup. It was quite tasty, and she resolved to find a way to make it for Simplicia when she got back to the Imperial City. She imagined that she might even add some sedge for extra flavor.

After finishing her meal, Teresa sipped the sour, yet smooth shein and watched Dervera as she moved back and forth behind the bar. She was just working up the nerve to say something to the woman when a man wearing the mail armor of the city guard came in, rounded the bar, and put his arms around the publican.

"Guilbert Jemane!" the Dunmer woman cried out in mock indignation. Yet she could not hide her grin. "How dare you! Someone call the guard!"

"The guard is here to serve ma'am!" the man said in that lilting tone of the Bretons. Lifting her up in his arms, he spun her around in a circle before setting her back down again. Then he leaned in to kiss the woman, which brought a round of hoots and cheers from the assembled patrons.

Cheering was the last thing on Teresa's mind as she watched Dervera wrap her arms around the Breton's neck and melt into him. Instead a feeling more sour than the shein dropped into the pit of her stomach. Were the good ones always taken? she wondered. Not that the dark elf would have wanted anything to do with her anyway, the forester imagined darkly. Leaving her half-empty glass on the bar, Teresa made her way back to her room and returned to creating potions.

Teresa made her way back to her room and returned to her mortar and pestle.


OH DEAR.

Teresa is romantically frustrated...and therefore she returns to her room, picks up her pestle, pounds it into her mortar...













Sorry my dear....I couldn't resist that at all! Please don't make me a courtesan - or if you must put me in your story, allow me to make out with a courtesan instead!!!

Poor Teresa!

It never crossed my mind that Romalen and Jemane (the sober one) had a thing going! How obtuse can I be??

Anyway, I loved this chapter - a wonderfully reflective time.

That is exactly how I feel - mountains are holy places!

I had the same thought as our vulpine friend - the mortar and pestle!

Great minds think lewdly alike.

As always!

I'm sure I had something to say about the part beyond it's good but all this discussion of pestling mortars has made me laugh too much to remember. Good part though, it adds a further dimension to her character.

One nit:

The word tasty cannot be applied to broccoli, it is a common misconception that broccoli is a food stuff, it is in fact toxic waste.

Good stuff, Subrosa.

Ah, one of my favourite NPC's has made his appearance; Guilbert Jemane (Is he a guard?)

Back to the mortar and pestle! I don’t think it was intentional, but the ending of that chapter left us with more unrequited innuendo than any chapter on any thread on this board that I can remember. Like Olen said; there were other things that I wanted to comment on, but I can’t get the pestling mortar (or is that the mortaring pestle?) out of my mind!

Only one small nit:

I think I found your missing 'of'.

Caught up with 8h, 9a, 9b, 9c. What a pleasure you are to read! I LOVE how you linger over Teresa's observations and thoughts rather than relentlessly pursue some adventure or quest objective. Yes, character driven suits me well. Every wood elf should have an etherial spirit that travels with her. I see Teresa's has already saved her little butt. Oh, and see how nice that pit armor looks on Teresa?

Just wonderful SubRosa!

D.Foxy: oi!

haute ecole rider: So far as I know Guilbert and Dervera are not lovers in the game. They are in the TF though.


Olen: Broccoli is wonderful! One of my favorites in fact. Especially cream of broccoli soup.


Verlox: Thank you V.


Remko: Guilbert is a guardsman in the TF, not the game though. Actually it is his drunken brother I like best of the two. I love when he hires you "I can besmirch my own good name just fine thank you..."


Destri Melarg: Thank you for wrangling up that wandering of. It is back in the herd where it belongs now.

Given the distraction it was causing, I took out "mortar and pestle" and replaced it with something more generic. I will try to never use those words again.


Acadian: It is true the TF is all about character development, with events being secondary. It is a chick thing, I am sure. I realize that is not to everyone's taste however. I promise that chapter 9 and 10 will be packed with manly killing.


Now, on to the road which this chapter is named for, and some pure world-building stuff.

* * *

Chapter 9d – On The Road

The next morning the sky was filled with grey clouds that matched Teresa's mood as she said goodbye to the Newlands Lodge. After a brief stop at the Mages Guild to sell the potions she had made the night before, she trudged back to the western gate and took her leave of Cheydinhal.

The first drops of rain began to fall as she set her feet to the pavestones of the Blue Road outside. By the time the city walls were out of sight it had picked up to a steady drizzle, and passersby scurried to and fro to get under cover. She ignored them, and the raindrops, as she made her way west down the road. The first of many small farming villages was passing by when it turned to a full downpour, leaving her the road all to herself.

She wondered what it must be like to have someone, as Dervera did? To hold their hand, to feel their arms around you, to kiss their lips… Would she ever know what that was like? the forester wondered as she plodded by fields and pastures along the road. Or would she be forever alone in the wilderness?

So lost in her thoughts, Teresa did not even notice the clumps of lavender and monkshood that occasionally sprang up between the road and cultivated land alongside it. She simply made her way west along the road, taking occasional breaks to stop and rest her feet, and quench her thirst from her water skin.

It rained for days, and Teresa continued along her route feeling as dark and somber as the weather. She had passed through nothing but farmland for most of the first day. There was a village roughly every half-mile along the road, and the fields worked by their denizens filled the spaces between them. By late afternoon the settlements had thinned out to only one a mile, with small patches of wild country tucked between the bands of crops and orchards.

By the end of the second day the villages became even sparser and started showing heavier and heavier defenses. Where she had seen only simple wooden fences surrounding the villages next to Cheydinhal, soon they had turned to durable stockades. After a third day's travel the walls were combined with ditches and dirt embankments, making them miniature fortresses.

The road itself was relatively bare, and the wood elf hardly saw another person on it except for the occasional carriage or wagon, and Imperial legionaries on horses. At least she thought the riders were legion. They did not wear the armor that most soldiers did, but still wore tunics emblazoned with the Imperial dragon and carried arming swords.

She stopped in some of the villages to refill her waterskin from their wells. The inhabitants were nearly all Imperials, and wore a variety of simple clothing from worn flax to threadbare linen. Their skin was tanned a dark bronze, and their bodies wrapped in lean muscle. Most carried a long knife at their hips, and here and there Teresa saw a bow or spear as well.

All gave her hard, appraising stares as she walked through their streets, and again Teresa wondered if it was because of the armor she wore. Did she really look like an outlaw? the forester wondered, or was it just because she was a stranger in general? Still, no one tried to stop her, although here and there people did question her at the wells. The wood elf took it all in stride though. If she were in their shoes, she imagined she might be suspicious as well.

In one settlement she found a small station just inside the main entrance, consisting of a fenced off area with a stable, corral, and what looked like a bunkhouse. A handful of men and women wearing the dragon tunics she had seen on the riders were working within. As she stared, a rider came galloping up from the road outside. As she rode in and came to a halt, another man leaped onto a fresh horse and trotted alongside her. He reached out to take a satchel from the dusty rider, then raced out of the village with it slung across his saddle horn.

They must be some kind of dispatch riders, Teresa imagined as she returned to the road herself and walked on through the rain. She had never imagined that such a system of passing along messages existed. Yet the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. It was nearly a week's journey from Cheydinhal to the shores of Lake Rumare, plus several more days travel to reach the Imperial City beyond that. Yet it would only take a few days to send a message between the cities when passing it between riders in such a manner. One person might even make the ride, changing to a fresh horse at every stop.

She also came across similar Wandrev & Farthir posts at much larger intervals along the road, also situated in the farming communities. She knew the freight and transport company from the Imperial City, where she had seen their offices in both the Market District and Waterfront. These stations were simpler than the Imperial ones, yet still had spacious buildings and large coaches in their corrals. On a whim Teresa went into one, and the Bosmer clerk behind the counter told her that for only ten drakes she could send a letter to the Imperial City, or for twice that she could purchase a seat on the next carriage there. He told her that if she had been in Cheydinhal it would have been twice that, so that she should consider herself lucky for the discount.

Only ten drakes, Teresa thought, resisting the urge to cough. Twice that for the coach ride would have been the same as a night at a fancy place like the Merchant's Inn. She had no desire to spend money on a coach when she could walk just as easily. Yet the idea of sending a letter to Simplicia grabbed hold of her imagination like a slaughterfish and would not let go.

The forester had plenty of money from her potion-making, and knew that she could make it all back selling a Shield potion. Then of course there was all the money she had made from Vilverin. So in spite of the cost, it was without any real hesitation that Teresa parted with her gold and sat down to scratch out a page to the old woman.

Dear Simplicia,

I hope this letter finds you before I get back. They tell me it will be put on the next coach to the City and delivered to Jensine's. I know she likes you, so I am sure she will get it to you as soon as she sees you. You always told me that learning to read and write was important. Did you ever imagine I would be sending you a letter when you taught me how!

I am on the road returning from Cheydinhal. I picked alchemical ingredients all the way from the City Isle to there, and sold a lot of potions from them. I met a very nice magician in the woods by a beautiful waterfall and lake. I wish you could have seen it! I stayed with her for several days while she enchanted a new suit of armor for me. It is a little revealing, but is much stronger than my old leather. She says it is just as good as legion plate, so I will be much safer now! Not that I have ever really needed armor of course.

I met some soldiers on the road who told me that there is a new Emperor named Martin Septim, and that the Hero of Kvatch is at his side. Have they been talking about them in the Imperial City? That is all anyone talks about on the road, and in Cheydinhal. I hope this means things are getting better now. I am sure the new Emperor will set things right.

I am almost out of paper now, and they make me pay for each piece, so I have to make this short. I am on my way back to the City now. I should be there in less than a week. I miss you, and cannot wait to see you again.

Teresa

Yay for the Pony Express!

Wonderful touch on the dispatch riders. I really enjoyed reading this piece. And the letter to Simplicia is a wonderful summary of recent events.

At last we come to the dispatch chapter! I have been waiting for this:

I love the feeling of space that you give to Tamriel in the TF. Your description of the fields that fill the spaces between villages is spot on. It doesn’t matter if Teresa can see the lavender and monkshood along the road, I sure could. The gradual change in the fortifications the farther one ventures from the city is an especially nice touch.

Your description of the dispatch riders and the service that they perform is likewise excellent. I also like how you make the cost of sending a letter price prohibitive for the average person. The only minor consideration that I think you should make is that there should be an armed presence at each station. Given the pains that you took to describe the lengths that people will go to protect themselves far from the cities, I think that Wandrev & Farthir would do the same with their stations scattered in remote areas throughout Cyrodiil. I don’t think you need a sentry in full Legion armor, just something to handle over-curious wildlife and to give the bandits pause.

I agree with haute that the letter at the end was an immensely enjoyable read. I find it interesting that the letter will be delivered to Jensine’s. As head of the Society of Concerned Merchants she seems like a logical choice. I could have also seen you using Velus Hosidius, Publican of the Merchant’s Inn or Venisia Melissaeia at the Office of Imperial Commerce (although having said that, I should take it back. Melissaeia keeps regular business hours and who knows when those ponies will arrive).

Now (and I do realize that this might just be my testosterone talking) can we please, please, please let Teresa shoot something?!

That it was and that it did. I agree with Destri that you really have made Cyrodiil a realistically proportioned place, it's not just the time taken travelling but the whole systems that you build up with little villages getting steadily more defended and a courier system which brings the place to life with it's accuricy. It also strikes me a subtle poke at the fact that everyone in Cyrodiil knowns whats happening everywhere instantly.

Though saying that I suppose mages have means of communication (though somehow I doubt they'd be affordable).


Awww... but unintended innuendo is the best kind.

And my testosterone seconds Destri's, can we have her shoot something, at at least hit it with a stone. Please

haute ecole rider: I guess my having watched The Young Riders shows...

The letter to Simplicia is one of the things I have been working at during these re-writes and new chapters. In the originals I was never really satisfied with the job I did of portraying Teresa's bond with Simplicia. So now I have been trying to put in little bits here and there of Teresa thinking of her as she goes about her travels, to show that her foster mother is never forgotten.


Destri Melarg: I had thought about the villages having armed guards when I first wrote the piece, then decided against it. I do not think simple farming folk would be able to afford something like that. However, I did go back and add in a few paragraphs describing the peasants themselves. Just as every self-respecting good 'ole boy today has a rifle rack in the back of his truck, I emphasized that Cyrodiilic farmers are likewise armed as well, with everyone carrying at least a knife at all times. There was no way to show it, but they would all have at least a spear and shield at home, and most likely a wood axe that would work just as well on goblins as it does on trees. The Wandrev and Farthir stations, being in the settlements, would simply rely on the locals for protection. Their coaches would naturally have armed drivers and an armed person riding shotgun (riding javelin?).

The main reason I went with Jensine was that she is a prominent local merchant in the IC. But perhaps even more importantly, she is someone we will be seeing more of in the TF.

Your testosterone should like the ending of this chapter.


Olen: Thank you Olen. In Morrowind (the game I mean, not the province) there seems to be a whole slew of ways to teleport all over the place. I noticed they dropped that in Oblivion, which I rather prefer. I think I like it better where you have to walk, ride, or sail to get where you want to go. It makes the world seem that much larger.

I promise your testosterone that the next two chapters will be abattoirs!


All: Now the final installment of chapter 9, where Teresa nearly gets back to the Imperial City. But something comes up while she crosses Lake Rumare. The ferry I depicted is a real life boat from the early 1800s, see more here about this amazing contraption.


* * *

Chapter 9e – On The Road

The rain finally stopped when the forester reached Lake Nemi. She found her gaze traveling to the waterfall spilling into its far end, crashing down from the highlands to the north. It was miles away, yet high enough that it was still plain to see even from the road. Thinking back to when she had first set eyes upon the twin lakes from the heights above Morcant's cottage, she realized that she was standing in that same hazy line that she had imagined might be the road and settlements.

Those settlements had became more numerous as well, not only along the road but clustering around the shores of the lake. The soil must be good here, the forester imagined. Or maybe it was the extra water? or Fort Urasek being not too far away? She really had no idea. It was not like she had a clue how farming worked. She had never even seen a farm until she had left the Imperial City with the Amulet of Kings a month and a half before.

She discovered that a narrow river flowed south from Lake Nemi when the Blue Road rose over it on a stone bridge. Following its meandering waters with her gaze, Teresa found that it vanished into a series of rolling hills that looked all wild to her. One day, she thought, she was going to have to go exploring to see what was down there.

Yet she had other things to do, and Simplicia was waiting for her at the end of her journey. First there was Vilverin. The armor and weapons of the bandits were still waiting there for her. Assuming someone else had not come along and taken them. Teresa briefly thought about going north around the lakes, and retracing her steps to the ruin. But she had already been that way. She had never been down the road, so she took it all the way to Fort Urasek instead.

With the denser population, or perhaps merely the better weather, she found herself passing more people on the road again as she made her way west. There were carters with wagons loaded down with goods, farmers either alone or in groups, Wandrev and Farthir coaches traveling in either direction, and the occasional legion rider as before.

Even a Black Horse courier came galloping past at one point, throwing Teresa a broadsheet that proclaimed an heir had been found, Martin Septim, and that he was at some place called Cloud Ruler Temple. Teresa wondered if that was anywhere near Bruma as she read on. But it contained little that she did not already know. It did add that Legions from Morrowind and Skyrim were marching to join the new Emperor, in addition to the Legion from Cyrodiil.

Reading the news made her eyes glance more and more to the north however, and a gnawing sense of dread began to creep into her stomach. Images of the card reading Morcant had done floated up in her memory. The Tower, The Daedric Prince, Death. The Witch had said a dark and terrible fire was coming. Was she headed right into it?

After a few days the Blue Road ended at Urasek. She found herself at the same road sign outside of the fort that she had passed in the moonlight. Had that been just a few weeks before? she wondered, it seemed like ages ago now. Turning to the north, she trudged along the Red Ring Road to Vilverin, her mind swirling with images from the book on Daedra.

The Ayleid ruin looked completely different in the sunlight. It seemed smaller, less mysterious and ominous then it had under the twin lights of Masser and Secunda. Yet perhaps that was simply due to the fact that now she knew every nook and cranny of the ruin, where the first time she had come to it she had no idea what to expect.

The well of magicka still rose to greet the sky, and once more Teresa reached within to draw forth as much of the energy as she could. "Never look a gift horse in the mouth," Simplicia had always said, and there was no telling if she might need it in the halls and chambers below her feet.

Moving quietly, with her bow strung and an arrow ready just in case, Teresa ventured below. Yet she found that the ruin was still as quiet and empty as the tomb it had now become. The gear of the bandits was still piled up where they had made their main camp in the ruin, and she packed it all away into several canvas sacks. Then she pulled out her mortar and pestle and brewed up a handful of Feather potions as Patvir's Guide instructed. Drinking one, she found herself feeling just as light as the potion's namesake, and hoisted the loot over her shoulders.

Climbing back up to the light of the sun, the wood elf stared across the lake. In the far distance she could dimly make out the shore of the City Isle. The sewer exit was somewhere over there, she thought. Part of her wanted to swim across to find it. Yet even with her Feather potions, she did not think swimming the expanse of the lake with the sacks of loot in tow was a good idea. It was just too many miles of water, and she did not know if the Jewel of the Rumare would keep everything within the bags safe as it did her armor and the other things she wore directly on her person.

With that in mind, Teresa instead set her feet back to the Red Ring Road and headed south. Every step she took gave her the feeling that she was approaching something, yet what it was she could not tell. Was she going to encounter Daedra on the road? she wondered, or in one of the villages or towns along the way to the Imperial City? That thought gnawed at her mood like a termite, and the farther she went, the more and more her eyes cast suspiciously about her on the road.

Yet a day later she was back in Urasek with nothing remarkable happening on the way. The town was larger than she had imagined when she had passed it in the night, stretching all the way from the stone walls of the fort to the shores of the lake. Like Sideways, it was bustling with carters and other travelers, mixed in with local farmers and fishermen.

Making her way to the docks, she found that most of the slips were empty. She did find one ferry still remaining however, and joined a line of other people boarding its wooden deck. Parting with more of her septims, she found a spot near a horse at one side of the vessel and sat down.

The boat had a wide hull, with a tall wheel of paddles rising up along either side, similar to those on a watermill. In front of each paddle was a horse, standing underneath an awning that protected it from the elements. Each wore the same kind of harness for pulling a wagon, yet in this case the yokes were fastened to iron bars built into the ship. Teresa noticed that the wooden deck had been cut out from under the horse's hooves, and instead the mighty animals stood upon some sort of platform underneath that was cut with regular grooves from side to side.

When finally the ferry was loaded with people and wagons, the crew cast off from the dock and set the horses into motion. Teresa found that even though they walked forward, they did not move from the places where they stood. That is when she noticed that their hooves were in fact pushing the grooved platform beneath them, turning it in a circle. It must be a wide, flat disc, she reasoned, and somehow its turning made the paddles to either side of the boat rise and fall, pushing the boat through the water.

Teresa stared in amazement. Horses were indeed pulling the boat as it set off into the placid waters of Lake Rumare. What surprised her even more was that they did not seem overly taxed by the effort. In fact, it seemed no more difficult for them than pulling a regular wagon.

Rising to her feet, the wood elf stepped closer to the small stall in which one horse stood. Its massive frame towered over her, and the strong musk of the animal filled her nostrils. She had to suppress the urge to reach out and touch the coal black hide of the animal. Instead she simply stared in wonder as the muscles of its shoulders bunched and flexed with every step. Now she noticed that he was not entirely black, but rather bore a small spot of white above his eyes, barely visible through the hair of his mane.

"What kind of horse is this?" She turned her gaze to the tiger-striped Khajiit that stood beside the horse, one hand on its harness.

"Oh, this is a Percheron," the feline said, turning from the horse to Teresa. "He's come all the way from High Rock to pull our ferry."

"He's beautiful," Teresa marveled, her eyes returning to the great beast.

"Aye, that's his name too, Beauty!" The Khajiit said with a grin that exposed his long fangs. "There's not a finer horse on the lake than this one! Go ahead and pet him if you like, he likes people."

Teresa could not restrain a faint smile as she reached out a pale hand to the glistening black flank of the horse. His short hair smooth as silk beneath her fingers, and his skin warm to the touch. She could feel bands of muscle the size of her entire body flexing under her hand as she gently slid it across his shoulder. Just one of its legs must weigh more than she did! she marveled. He was magnificent!

Her vision began to dim, and the sounds of the ferry faded into the distance. Teresa stepped back from the horse, seeing the world in a narrow tunnel rimmed in darkness. Within moments even that faded to black, and the feeling of the hard deck vanished from beneath her feet.

* * *

She was weightless, floating. No, flying, the wood elf realized, now feeling the wind rushing by under her wings. Opening her beak, a long, guttural caw issued from her throat to greet the green fields of heather far below her. It was another of the dream-flights, Teresa thought, except that she had not been asleep this time.

To her left rose the high stone walls of a city on the edge of the mountains. Arrayed on the plain outside of it was a host the size of which Teresa had never seen. Clad in steel and marching under dragon banners, the line of the army stretched for nearly a mile from side to side as it resolutely advanced across the fields to the east.

Waiting there for them was a nightmare, a horde of monsters that walked on both two legs and four, the fires of Oblivion rising up behind them. First came infernal beasts armed with jagged teeth and gleaming claws. Then came even formations of creatures that could have been men, but for their rust-colored skin and the horns that curled up from their foreheads. Marching under standards of bones and flayed skin, they carried weapons that made the forester's eyes feel like bleeding just to look upon them.

The jaws of Oblivion had opened wide.

Whoa!



Teresa pet the horse...and then she's transported to a battle?

I know Pecherons are powerful, but I didn't know they were THAT powerful!

Or did I miss something???

wonderful description of the ferry's mechanics. I loved it!

Percherons are usually grey, black is quite uncommon, but I digress. It's your fiction, it can be anything you want! However, their coats are smooth to the touch, more silky than coarse. It's the manes and tails that are coarse and wiry to the hand. Even in the winter, when they're shaggy, their coats are still fine and smooth to the touch. Quite pleasant, really. The closest I can compare is that of a Greyhound dog or a smooth-coated Pointer.

And now we approach the real Oblivion Crisis!

A number of things stood out to me in this chapter. Here are a few:

-The overall sense of foreboding that Teresa feels pervades the whole chapter, thanks to the small hooks that you sink into us throughout (the ominous card reading, suspicious glances down the road, etc.).

-Typical of the Black Horse Courier! Why not tell everyone (including the Mythic Dawn) the name and the whereabouts of the only man in Tamriel who can re-ignite the Dragonfires and stop Lord Dagon’s invasion!

-Once again Teresa shows her ingenuity in the brewing and use of the feather potion inside Vilverin.

-The description of the ferry was great, as was the description of the Percheron in the stall. Then we have Teresa’s dream-flight (or is it an OBE?). From your description and the movement of the army as you have established over the last few chapters, I would say that she is witnessing the beginning of the battle of Bruma. Interesting.

A couple of typos that I spotted:

D.Foxy: It is another one of her visions, only this one happened while she was awake. I went back and edited it a bit to try to make that more clear.


haute ecole rider: Thank you h.e.r. I was amazed when I stumbled upon that ferryboat, and just knew I had to use it. I think it works well as something the Dwemer would have designed.

I know most Percherons are not black, but I have seen enough pictures of those that are to make him that color. Actually he was going to be grey to begin with. But I could not resist changing it to black after I wrote that his name was Beauty (and I am surprised that you did not catch that equine homage!)


Destri Melarg: I am glad that sense of foreboding shows through. I went back on purpose to make sure it was there, gnawing away at Teresa's guts.

Funny you mention that about the BHC. I just finished watching Ken Burns' Civil War yesterday, and General Sherman considered reporters to be no better than traitors because they always did exactly what you said!

As you correctly deduced, that is the Battle of Bruma that Teresa saw opening.



All: I only finished writing the first draft of chapter 10 a few minutes ago. So it will still be a while before I can get the next four or so drafts done and start posting. At 15.5k words, it is my largest chapter ever. Hopefully toward the end of the week I will be able to start getting it up. As I promised, it will have lots of manly killing, with most of it told from the pov of our favorite Fighters Guild chapter head Greg Boyington Pappy Vitellus

With a WOO and a HOO and HELL and a YEAH
We now alight for parts unknown n' have fun getting THEAH!
With a TEE and a HEE and a Leap and a HOWL
We'll be entertained by fair means or by Foul!!

True; his brother is the funny one. "Ooh, I am sorry, didn't know that was your sheep."

Oh , I did notice the Black Beauty homage! It just escaped my comment - my bad!

Still, black Percherons are more impressive than the grey ones, if you ask me! And they are so sweet (when they're not stepping on your toe)!

And yes, I am so glad you discovered that ferry! Horsepower (and mules) have been used on boats way before the first steam engine was invented! The thresher that George Washington developed at Mount Vernon (and recently reconstructed, we saw it two years ago) was an ingenious use of natural horsepower, too.

Teresa's world is very big! The need for horses and coaches and pony and express and ferries is quite apparent!

As always, it is wonderful hearing Teresa's internal dialogue. I like the raven!

Oops, don't mind me, I was just testing what swear words are filtered and accidentally hit the post button instead of the preview.

For anyone who is interested, the following words work:

damn
balls
crap
bugger

But, my dear, I SWEAR I don't see any bad words in your prose!!!

Great chapter, you really developed the world in chapter 9, it has a strong feel to it, both like the game one but changed to make more sense and seem more alive and breathing. Where the game world feels like a diorama yours feels like it's moving and things are happening off stage all the time. It also feels BIG. I like the spin you put on it... in fact I might even steal some of the basic changes...

The ferry was great, kudos for finding and including that

And now a premonition (I think anyway unless we're already at the battle of Bruma), that is most unexpected... perhaps she's a more powerful witch (for want of a better word) than she knows...

Goood stuff foreshadowing chapter ten, I can't wait for the action to start.

D.Foxy: I added some swear words!


Remko: "You're someone else. Apologies, my good friend. I mistook you for someone else."


haute ecole rider: I actually prefer dappled grey horses best. And paints. Although a big black horse always looks good, like Friesians.


Acadian: Thank you A.


Olen: You are indeed correct about Teresa's latent magical powers. While she does not know who her parents are, I do. There is a lot of magical power in her family. It is the reason for her being so good at alchemy, in spite of having no formal training. In time I can see her becoming a Witch much like Morcant is. However, that would be far beyond the scope of the current arc of stories I am doing about her. Perhaps in the future I might do a fifty years ahead arc?


All: Now what all you guys have been waiting for. The Battle of Bruma. Like everything else in the TF, it will be far larger in scope than it is in the game. The new edited version tops 16k words, so it will probably take a few weeks to get the entire chapter posted.

* * *

Chapter 10a - The Battle Of Bruma

26th Midyear, 3E433

On raven wings, Teresa flew through the sky. Beneath her, she saw forested hills that rose to a steep escarpment which ran from east to west. Beyond was a plateau that stretched on for miles before rising once more to a line of snow-capped peaks far in the distance. To the west, the plateau was strewn with jagged outcroppings of rock and dotted with fir trees. To the east it smoothed out to gentle fields of wheat and grassy pastures, also interspersed with many small islands of evergreens.

A wide road of solid pavestones meandered through the hills from the south and rose up to the plateau before continuing on to the mountains in the north. An avenue of the same, heavy stones branched off from it and ran to the west for several miles, until finally ending at the gates of a large city.

The grey stone walls of the settlement rose from the edge of the escarpment, where the open fields of the east turned to rocky badlands in the west. A creek flowed from the mountains and wandered past the western walls of the city, tumbling down the steep cliffs to the southern hills in a cascade of white foam. Sturdy buildings of stone and heavy timbers filled the great settlement, and Teresa's beady, raven's eyes passed over the high spire of a chapel rising from a great square near the main gate. Within it she saw the statue of a man she recognized. Tiber Septim, the first of the Septim line, now the god Talos.

Winging from the city to the rolling fields in the east, Teresa saw arrayed there before the walls was an army of tens of thousands, stretching out for well over a mile. The golden heads of their dragon-standards glittered in the sun, and the silk wind-socks of their tails billowed out in the cool wind gusting from the mountains. Legio V, Legio VI, and Legio XII read the golden plaques beneath the great wyrm totems, announcing who strode beneath them to all.

They were ordered in rectangular blocks of soldiers, over half-a-dozen men deep and much wider. Behind each block stood a second, identical formation of legionaries, and it was clear to even Teresa's untrained eye that this pairing of units was somehow intentional. As she flew along she found that they were not arranged in a straight line, but rather in a diagonal, with each pair of units placed behind and to the left of the one before it. Because of this the right side of the line was much farther forward than the left. Finally, there were also wide lanes between each pair of units, and Teresa noted that these gaps were large enough for one block of the pair to march out to the side and then forward to fill the space.

On the far right edge was a long line of horsemen who could only be knights and other patricians. The wealthiest were clad in gleaming ebony or brilliant meteoric glass, while the less fortunate made do with the gold-tinted armor of slender, overlapping bands of the elven style, or the heavy steel of orcish manufacture. Pennants of many colors streamed from their lances, and their silk surcoats were decorated with a dizzying array of emblems. To their left were plainer legionary horsemen in their dark plate, carrying lances whose points caught the light of the sun and reflected it in hundreds of tiny sparks.

Then to their left came the foot soldiers, also wearing plate armor. First were those under the standard of the Fifth Legion, who bore high crests of red horse-hair upon their helmets. These were the soldiers that Teresa was used to seeing within the Imperial City, and all across the countryside. The helms of the other two Legions farther along the line were bare however, something she had not seen before. Also strange was that none of their shields were emblazoned with the Imperial dragon. Rather they were all painted with the black head of a wolf against a white background. The arming swords and daggers at their hips were standard legion gear however.

When she had finally soared far to the left, over the trailing end of the oblique formation, Teresa saw soldiers wearing mail rather than plate beneath her. Their formations were not as orderly as the legionaries, and they marched under standards bearing a black eagle. They wore yellow surcoats and carried shields decorated with the same noble-looking bird, while steel arming swords hung from their hips.

Circling back over the army, Teresa saw that even more soldiers came streaming from the city gate. These wore a hodge-podge of plate, mail, and even leather armor, and carried all manner of weapons, from swords and axes, to maces and spears. Rather that falling in to either side of the main line of infantry, they grouped into loose bands in the rear of the army.

Also behind the main line of infantry, near the right side, was a large clump of riders. A great banner of golden silk flew before them, decorated with a crimson dragon and surrounded by eight stars of varying colors. Somehow it reminded Teresa of the Amulet of Kings, and how it had a red gemstone rimmed in gold, and was also surrounded by eight small gems.

Under the banner rode two distinct groups. The first was of a dozen men in legionary armor, including a few whose gear was gilded with silver and golden dragons. One of the latter also wore a red sash around his waist, and held an ivory baton in his hand. All of the other legionaries seemed to surround him, and as Teresa watched riders would occasionally come up to him, or ride off after speaking with him.

The second, much larger group was comprised of men and women wearing the banded armor of the Blades, and curved swords hung from their hips. They were all grouped around a man atop a coal black horse. His armor was of gleaming ebony decorated with golden dragons, and a sword of the same material hung from his hip. Even from her great height, Teresa could see the blue flash of his eyes, glittering like azure stars in the dark recesses of his helmet. She knew them instantly. She had seen them before. He was Uriel Septim's son, Martin.

Now Teresa flew past the human army, farther to the east, where the fields of grain were blasted and burned under a line of blazing oval portals. Like mirrors of fire, they burned between tall, curved fangs of black stone that seemed to sprout up from the ground underneath. Streaming from these infernal gateways, and already formed into a vast host, was a nightmare army.

First came four-legged beasts armed with sharp beaks and gleaming claws, spread out in small clumps along the battlefield. Great crowns of bone rose up from around their heads, forming what almost looked like rounded sails, and long tails stretched out behind them. Teresa recognized them as clannfears from their description in Varieties of Daedra.

Among them were creatures that walked upright as mer did. Yet their skin was the color of rust, and horns curled up from their foreheads. They were clad in jagged metal armor adorned with spikes, while flanged maces of the same rough-looking material hung from their waists. Each clutched a brace of chains, leading to collars affixed to the necks of the clannfears.

Those were dremora, Teresa knew, for her book had described them as well.

Teresa flew over a second line of creatures behind those, again formed in ragged clumps. There were giant four-legged beasts with long, narrow heads that she thought might be daedroth. For every one of the giants, there were nearly a dozen far smaller monsters that walked upright as mortals did, yet had long rat-like tails that whipped out behind them. With no hair at all upon their wiry frames, their distorted faces brimmed with sharp teeth, and their skinny fingers ended in narrow claws. Scamps, Teresa realized, they had been one of the first creatures described in Varieties of Daedra.

In a few places Teresa also saw atronachs: woman-shaped creatures that seemed to be made of living fire, others of gleaming ice, and even a few comprised of rocks floating about themselves. Even more rare were monsters with the bodies of spiders, yet heads and torsos that could almost be elven. As with the clannfears, more dremora walked among these groups. Only these carried not chains, but rather staves in their hands.

Finally Teresa came to a deep, solid line of more dremora who marched under standards of bones and flayed skin. Most carried shields in addition to a sword or mace. Sprinkled among them Teresa saw some with long, two-handed blades instead, and one or two with massive hammers. The dremora did not have the neatness to their ranks that the Imperial Legion possessed. Yet what they lacked in order, they more than made up for in numbers, for their line stretched far wider, and much deeper than the mortal army's.

Great setup! Just awesome!

I think you've made this far more epic than in-game, and the build-up is definitely much more exciting and suspenseful.

I think we're all in for a treat! If the guys ain't happy with this chapter, I'm gonna hunt everyone of 'em down with my modified White's emasculator!

Using Teresa’s dream flight to get a panoramic view of the armies is a brilliant idea! Your detailed description of the field and the armies really sets the stage. You know how I feel about large-scale engagements. 16k words translates to about 64 pages (give or take)! I am going to settle in and really enjoy this.


This is my favorite paragraph. It not only transitions us from a description of the human forces to a description of the daedric host (I just love using that word to describe an army), it also stands as a powerful description of the line of Oblivion Gates that spawn them.

I don’t really have any nits to point out. Everything is written so well. I do have an observation that you can use or disregard: Given the depth and the detail of description that we get to see through Teresa’s ‘beady raven’s eyes’, it doesn’t seem possible that she could see and process that level of detail from a single pass over the field. It might be wise to suggest that she is circling.


@haute – Why did your emasculator need to be ‘modified’?

It's modified for minimal tissue trauma. Not that it matters from the patient's perspective - the important stuff STILL gets removed!

You hadda ask!

So what you are saying is that it turns guys into rabid Twilight fans?

Well, not exactly rabid.

More like soprano Twilight fans in drag!

Rosa, congratulations.

I suspect you have taken the panorama idea from Oliver Stone's sweeping 'eagle eye view' panoramic shot of the Battle of Gaugemela from 'Alexander' - is that correct?

Excellent description of the Oblique order in battle! I see you have understood the tactics of the 'refused flank' and of grouping the Cavalry into a decisive wing.

I see you have placed the elite troops in the Van, and the militia behind. Good. This will prevent the Militia tripping up the heels of the elite in attack, and will also keep the Militia as a 'just in case' reserve should the enemy break through. Since defense is easier than attack this duty should be within the limited skills of the Militia.

From the Arrangement of your troops in battle I suspect the humans are going to attack first, rather than wait for the demons to attack - in spite of the fact that the humans are heavily outnumbered.

This I can deduce from the fact that you have concentrated much of the elite into a 'battering ram' on one side, with gaps between your units so that other units can be added or withdrawn as the tactical situation unfolds in battle.

This of course is necessary as the Dremora Army is much wider and deeper than the human, so that if a line - to - line contact is made the Dremora Army will simply envelop the human one.

Thus it seems that the human army will attack on one flank, refuse the other, and as and when a penetration of the enemy line is made, the Cavalry will move up from the reserve and pour into the hole to break up the cohesion of the Dremora army...

The basic plan of the Battle of Gaugamela!

But as you know very well, Rosa, the old saying "No battle plan survives contact with the enemy" holds true for all ages.

I hope in your next posts you will explain the planning of battle, the fighting and chaos that follows actual contact, and the instant improvizations that Commander have to make in the heat of battle.

Foxy Strategos Opitmus Maximus (Yes, I know I've mixed Greek and Latin. So what....I like to be historically accurate!)

I second the comments on how well the 'eagle eye' (raven eye?) view will work for this battle and it promises to be most exciting, I'm already enjoying it (so no fun for hauty). The descriptions of the daedra were great, they sounded right for someone who knows little about them and hasn't seen one before but I still worked out what they all were.

You've certainly made it epic... let the carnage begin...

haute ecole rider: Thank you haute. An epic feel is exactly what I am looking for.


Destri Melarg: I am glad the panoramic view is working. This chapter will alternate from Teresa's raven's eye pov to show the battle overall, and from the pov of Pappy Vitellus, who will show us a very important piece of it from up close and on the ground.

Good observation on adding something in about Teresa circling around the field to see everything. I went back and added in several bits to show that she is flying from one area to another throughout the piece.


D.Foxy: You are spot on about Oliver Stone's use of the eagle. I really liked how he used that to show the panoramic view of Gaugamela. (I have Alexander Revisited on blu-ray btw, vastly superior to the other versions of the movie). The memory of that, combined with the vision-flight of Julian, Jauffre, and Martin that I already had, prompted me to use another vision to show the battle in a way that the people within it could never see.

Actually, I was not really thinking of Gaugamela in particular when I scripted out the battle. In fact, I often forget that Alexander refused his left in that battle. Usually Epaminondas is who comes to my mind when I think of the oblique, given how he used it to obliterate the Spartan Royal Bodyguard and kill King Cleombrotus at Leuctra.

In any case, you have the gist of Adamus Phillida's plan down. He means to win with his right before he loses with his left. However, you overlooked one thing, the Great Gate and its Sigil Stone. Phillida has to ensure that the Daedra create the gate, and then he has draw their army away from it so a crack team of commandos can get inside and take the stone. Otherwise the entire battle will have been for naught.

An interesting thing I noted when I was looking over the daedra and dremora pages in the wiki is that they have no cavalry. The nearest thing they do have are some of the beast-like daedra such as clannfears and daedroth. But I envision them as being near-uncontrollable, critters they might be able to send on a straight-ahead charge, but not ones that can be used for any kind of actual maneuvering. That leaves Phillida with one huge advantage: cavalry, and he has the best in Tamriel at his disposal.


Olen: Thank you Olen. The main reason I put Varieties of Daedra in Vilverin was so that Teresa could read it, and thusly be able to identify the daedra in this battle (as well as in chapter 11). And most importantly, allow me to use their names!


All: The battle continues. In this segment we will meet some of the Bravil Fighters Guild, who have a very important mission to perform in the battle (and some of whom will play very important roles in future chapters - hint, they have pictures). As do the Blades, who are led by a certain white-haired Redguard of our acquaintance.

Also, as I have been doing Teresa 2.0, I have been making an effort to use accurate names for things like weapons. That is why you see terms like arming sword now, because that is really what the game calls a longsword. In this segment we will see a true longsword - which is to say a two handed sword - what the game calls a claymore. Likewise I am also using this chapter to establish that forms of armor such as mithril and elven are actually lighter than steel armor. Also that there are no silver weapons, but rather mithril ones, and that there are recurve bows made from sila wood.

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Chapter 10b - The Battle Of Bruma

"Man for man, these dremora are bigger, stronger, and tougher than your average legionary. The Churls, who are the lowest of them, carry maces and wear the lightest armor. The higher caste of Kynvals use swords. Their officers are Kynreeves and Kynmarchers, and typically carry greatswords. The nobles are known as Markynaz and Valkynaz, and might be armed with either two-handed hammers or blades."

Pappy heard Arentus Falvius speaking from within the trees behind him. The assembled mercenaries from his chapter of the Fighters Guild and a small detachment of Blades listened to the Bruma primate with rapt attention. Pappy had the feeling the older Imperial liked the audience.

Rather than turn to watch, the guild commander remained crouched at the edge of the brush and watched the back of the Daedric army across the knee-high fields of wheat. They were still pouring from the gates that stretched across the plain, and thankfully had not sent scouts to investigate the random groves of trees - like the one he and his people were hidden in - that dotted the landscape behind their army.

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"The Dremora have only one purpose, to fight, and they spend eons doing it," the high priest of Bruma went on. "Their society is built around a very rigid caste system, in which everyone has a specific place in the chain of command. The only way they can advance is by distinguishing themselves in combat. They call it Azkhul Klizhata - "The Great Game" - and it makes them very eager to prove themselves."

"If this is meant to inspire us, it's not working," Pappy heard Corentin Retiene remark dryly, in that soft tone most Breton's possessed. His curly brown hair was already thinning, in spite of being more than a decade younger than the guild commander. As with all the mercenaries, a medallion in the shape of a red shield emblazoned with a white sword hung from around his neck. His mithril armor had a skirt that hung low, nearly to his knees. A sword of the same material hung from his hip, yet it was a recruved bow of golden sila wood that he gripped in his long fingers.

A chorus of low chuckles sprang up from the other men and women, and Pappy could not help but to smile himself.

"Ah but my young Breton, this is indeed where our advantage lies," Arentus went on. "For you see this makes the Dremora reckless, prone to attack precipitously and without orders, and more importantly, without coordination or support. They each want to single-handedly win the day and be the hero."

"In other words, they don't know the meaning of teamwork, sir?" Now Julian of Anvil's voice cut through the air, prompting the guild commander to turn and look back. The white-haired Redguard was about the same age as he was. Unlike the other Blades who wore their characteristic banded plate armor, she was dressed in lighter mail, with the black Kvatch wolf emblazoned across its white surcoat. The Akaviri katana at her hip looked much like those carried by her compatriots. However, it had a certain glint to it that the guild commander knew well from experience. There was power in that blade, he thought, and quite a bit of it to be so evident from two-dozen paces away.

"Exactly!" The prelate smiled, waving a hand in the air for emphasis. "They have more order than the beast-like Daedra such as clannfears or daedroth, but ultimately they fight as individuals, not units. Do not be surprised if you even see some deliberately interfering with others or outright turning on them when their comrades are not looking. They are immortal, and never forget a slight against their honor. With all that time and competition, many of them have old scores to settle with one another."

"If they're immortal, does that mean we can't kill them?" Now Valerius spoke up. A young Imperial, he was clean-shaven and wore a full panoply of steel plate that practically sparkled in its newness. Good kid, Pappy found himself thinking, always asking questions. If he lived long enough, he would make a solid fighter.

"Don't worry son, steel works just fine against them," Hirtuleius spoke up before Arentus could answer, and Pappy could not restrain a smile at the look of annoyance that flickered across the high priest's face. An Imperial whose long hair had gone to grey, Hirtuleius held an already-strung sila bow in his hands. "Put a blade in their heart, or an arrow in their head, and they will go down same as any man."

"Indeed, that is true," Arentus found his breath. "They are not slain however, at least not in the same sense as we are. No Daedra can truly die. Rather they are banished back to the Daedric Realms.

"So will that make them suicidal fighters then, having nothing to lose?" This time it was a Blade who spoke up, one whose name Pappy did not know. She was younger than he was, short and squat, with a body wrapped in muscle.

"Sometimes, but usually not," the high priest explained. "Banishment is a most unpleasant experience for the Daedra. A rather long one too. Aside from the physical suffering involved, it removes them from the Great Game while they are gone, leaving their rivals free to gain status while they are away. Needless to say, no Dremora looks forward to it."

"So you meatheads, what all this means is that if we work together as a team, we can beat them." Pappy finally raised his own voice as he stepped to the center of the gathering with a clatter of metal. The golden laurel engraved across the front of his legion breastplate glittered even in the dim light beneath the trees. Heavy orcish steel sheathed the rest of his body, and the strap of his legion helm was fastened around his belt, allowing it to hang free. A sword of the ancient Atmoran style hung from his hip. With a thick, straight blade, it ended in a gold engraved crossbar, with a whalebone grip and wide pommel of lobed design. Like the rest of his armor, it bore the gleam of enchantment.

"We fight together, not separately," he continued. "Every man holds his place in the line. You help the man beside you, and sing out when you're in trouble. Keep your potions ready and don't hesitate to guzzle them whenever there's a lull."

"So does that mean we women do not have to hold our place in the line?" Tadrose Helas spoke up with a faint smile on her lips. The Dunmer wore the amber steel of the elven races, formed in numerous overlapping bands shaped like long, slender leaves, over a suit of fine mail. In her hands was a longsword of the elven style as well. With a blade nearly as long as she was tall, the hilt of the two-handed sword was decorated with twisting vines and eagles with wings outstretched.

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"Oh no, I would never presume to tell a woman what to do is all." Pappy replied with a grin. That brought a chorus of laughter from the other members of the Fighters Guild, Tadrose included. The Blades on the other hand, looked on stoically.

"At least when they're clothed…" Paol Lirrene added, which brought more guffaws from the mercenaries. A middle-aged Breton with brown eyes and hair well on its way to grey, Paol's burly frame was clad in heavy orcish armor, and a hammer of meteoric glass lay near his hand.

"Or holding weapons!" Now it was the turn of Aissa to chime in. The young Redguard was lean and practically glowing in her mithril armor, and fingered the wire-wrapped hilt of the meteoric glass sword that hung from her hip.

With that the Fighters Guild members and Blades drifted apart into small knots, talking quietly to themselves. Pappy glanced up into the treetops overhead, where he could just barely pick out the red fur of a Khajiit. Making his way to an Altmer with long blond hair tied behind her head into an elegant series of knots, the guild commander clapped a hand onto her armored shoulder.

"Seridwe, go up there and relieve J'sharr," he said, glancing back up above. "He's been on lookout all morning."

"But Pappy, what if those branches get in my hair? They'll ruin it!" the youthful-looking high elf complained. Still, she stood up and shouldered her composite bow before making her way to the tree that the Khajiit was perched within.

"I promise I'll personally pay for the best hair-dresser in Bruma to fix it up," the middle-aged Imperial responded, cupping his hands into a stirrup before the Altmer. She put one boot into his hands and leapt into the branches overhead as he pushed up.

The Altmer seemed as light as a feather as she rose skyward, in spite of the elven armor that covered her tall and slender frame. Not for the first time, the guild commander found himself wondering how the elven smiths could make armor that was not only stronger than human steel, but so much lighter as well. Tadrose would know, he thought, she had forged most of their gear after all. Not that she would ever give him a straight answer. No elven smith would ever part with their secrets.

"You'd better! I spent two hours on it this morning!" Seridwe's voice drifted down from overhead.

"And keep an eye out for the Tenth Legion!" Pappy called up after the high elf, "They might still make it in time!"

Nice shift from the panorama of the battlefield to the individuals who will be participating in the upcoming maelstrom. I especially enjoyed the introduction to the Fighters Guild members who will live or die on the morrow (I'm speaking figuratively here). Letting us get to know some of the participants increases the sense of tragedy that always accompanies each battle.

I also liked the lesson about the Daedra. Know thy enemy is one of the most basic tenets of Sun Tzu's Art of War. You have done well to illustrate it here.

Oh, and I especially liked a certain Redguard's cameo here!

To think some of these characters could die pretty soon, it's not a great thing to think about.

I applaud you for writing characters that I've come to like and enjoy.