The technique and facts of battle - you didn't put a foot wrong.

The pace - perfect. Slow, steady, building up higher and higher until at the end the cavalry comes (literally) charging in...and how I LOVE the number! The TENTH! Ole Ceasar's favourite boys, BTW!

And in the end, the coda triste that ends all battles. Oh yes. Well and deeply written, my Rose. I know of no higher praise than that.

I normally don't enjoy reading about organized large scale combat. Just a touch to close to home you know. The best I can hope for is a tragic bittersweet sadness at the loss of so many brave lives. Yet oddly, I enjoyed reading this, despite its tragedy that pulls at my heart with a familiar refrain. Testamony to the power of your skill, I'm sure.

And so ends this chapter. Thank you for gracing us with it and taking your time to lavish the necessary detail. The entire multi-part chapter was simply masterful. It is fitting that it end with your finest effort yet, my friend. Simply magnificent!

A question. When Pappy envisioned the snarling troll as he called forth his Lord birthsign special power, was that because trolls regenerate? Did I guess right?

This final installment adds a full measure of impact to the fact that Pappy's Bravil guild is devastated and must rebuild. I'm so glad at least those three survived.

What a wonderful touch to slam home the wide ranging impact of war by showing, first hand, the tragedy that was Morcant and Attius. Lives and loves lost. Simply one of a thousand such stories that day, but undiminished regardless.

As always, you portrayed Julian so true to her nature. I'm so proud of our Hero of Kvatch for closing that gate!

As for Teresa, I love her more than ever for gracefully embracing her important, but supporting role.


And finally, a possible nit? I'm sure you meant 'his'.

*swallows chunk in throat* Wow.

The horn is officially dead. I finally got my old avatar back!!

Forget about the Waterfront, you should write a fan-fic just dealing with the men and women of the Bravil Fighter’s Guild. Set it to begin in the aftermath of this battle, and have Teresa appear intermittently as a supporting character. Pappy, Tadrose, and Vincent are extremely well-drawn characters and I think they deserve a story of their own.

This is my favorite line:

Just a spectacular use of sound to give us imagery! Along with the heroic arrival of the Tenth that caused the hairs on the back of my neck to stand up, and the poignant image of Morcant grieving over the slain Attius! To quote Remko, Wow!

ureniashtram: Thank you U. I drew upon a great deal of real world battles to put it all together.


the worm hautocolos: thank you t.w.h. For a moment I thought you said "Julian would haute how I made her seem so heroic!" It just worked out that way, but Julian definitely bagged the award for Coolest Entrance in the TF. Pappy might remind her that while their work was done at the end of the battle, hers had just begun, as immediately afterward it was Julian who had to storm the halls of Paradise to reclaim the Amulet of Kings...


Olen: Thank you Olen. I was aiming for something really epic in scale, and spent quite a bit of time working out both movements of the battle, and the events with the Bravil FG. Now that it is all over I am so relieved!

That was the Knight of Swords you were thinking of. We will be seeing him next chapter, which is also named after him. After giving it some thought, Pappy would qualify as the King of Swords, and Tadrose the Queen (at least in relation to Teresa). Vincent the Joker


D.Foxy: Thank you D.F. The main reason I went with the Tenth was that one of the legions with that number had the nickname Fretensis - "The Legion of the Sea Straits". It seemed perfect for a Legion normally stationed in Vvardenfell.


Acadian: Thank you Acadian. I wanted the battle to be both exciting, but also feel tragic as well. I thought about not including the part with Attius' death at the end, as I already had the deaths of the Bravil FG. But I wanted to finish what I started in The Witch Of Lake Trasimene.

You are spot on about the symbol of the troll for Pappy's regeneration. People with the Lord birthsign are said to be Trollkin (and I had Pappy curse his Trollkin blood earlier when they got hit by the fireball), so I thought the image of a troll would be the perfect thing to picture when using the Lord's healing power.

I am so glad I included Julian in the TF. She has really taken on a big role, and is filling the shoes of the Hero of Kvatch/Bruma very nicely. I doubt a character I created myself would grab hold of people nearly as well. Something I can only thank haute for, as the work she has done making Julian come alive in Old Habits follows her here.

And yes on the nit, well spotted!


Remko: Thank you Rem.


Destri Melarg: Thank you Dest. You know, the picture your new avatar is from is one of my favorite ones in the game. I wanted Chance to look like that, but I am just awful at making male faces in the game. Then when I found that shirt and vest he is wearing are not in the game, I was completely devastated.

Now you are giving me ideas about writing the Bravil FG. For the past few weeks I have been trying to imagine what it would be like for Pappy, et al. when they came back from Bruma. Having to tell all their comrade's loved ones what happened would be crushing. Then having to walk through that big, empty building that was once so filled with life (and strife!). Talk about soul-crushing.

Maybe I will write a chapter about it after all. I do have some ideas about the immediate aftermath of the battle. I know Pappy and the others would have gathered together their dead and buried them. Beforehand Pappy would have gotten the best hairdresser in Bruma to fix up Seridwe's hair (a promise is a promise after all). Then they would have taken all of their gear, and whatever loot they could carry, back to Bravil to give to their next of kin. The closest thing the FG would have to a Widows and Orphans fund. I know within a few weeks of the battle Tadrose would have been offered command of the Chorrol guild, and refused it.


All: I have been feeling a little burned out on writing since finishing this chapter, so I have not done much work on Chapter 11. Instead I have mostly been reading history, watching Daria, and playing Oblivion. It is one of the old chapters, but is one I am doing extensive revising to add more material. It has already doubled in size, and I am nowhere near getting it to where I want it. I am definitely getting long-winded in my old age... In any case, it might be a while before I post more Teresa.

Take your time.

Chapter 10 was one of the most intense chapters I have ever read, and I know you put a lot of time in on it. I can imagine you really need to sit back and recharge your batteries.

I can't speak for others, but I will wait patiently for Teresa to return. I'm sure when she does, it will be better yet! We all need to take a break from our stories from time to time, I know all too well. Come back when you're fresh, good and ready.

In the meantime, don't forget to read our stuff and comment! Your insight is invaluable not only to me, but to other writers as well!

If you're going to take a break, this point in your story is the perfect place to do it. After all, you have been maintaining quite the pace. Take the time you need, and of course we'll all be here for you.

I know exactly what you are going through. I have been feeling much the same way myself which is why I have not posted more in my own thread lately. I love your ideas for the Bravil Fighters Guild story! Maybe writing a chapter or two of that will help start the flow of creative juices again. Like the others said, we will all wait patiently while you recharge.

I got inspired Thursday and finished the first draft Chapter 11 in a marathon session of writing (I can sit for 7-8 hours writing when I get worked up, the same happened with Chapter 10). I just finished the fourth draft, so I may as well start posting. This was originally the first chapter of Moving Through Darkness. It has received a major face lift, going from 4,500 words to 12,000 and change.

Next, Teresa finally returns to the Imperial City after her long sojourn into the wilds. Some of you might recognize the street names I used.

* * *

Chapter 11a - The Knight of Swords

29th Midyear, 3E433

The towering grey walls of the Imperial City loomed above Teresa as she made her way up the hill upon which the metropolis was built. Beyond the great bulwark, the tall, slender spire of White Gold Tower floated high in the summer sky, seeming to nearly reach clouds themselves.

The pavestones of the road were hard beneath the Bosmer's feet. Rather than going directly up the hill, the road curled alongside it, gradually rising as it turned widdershins along the circular outer wall of the city. She imagined that the gentle slope made it easier for the many wagons and carts that she passed. Loaded down with goods, they went both to and from the city on the wide avenue.

Pausing to look back the way she had come, Teresa had to shield her eyes from the glare of the morning sun. Mile after mile of farms and pastures stretched away to the horizon, a jumble of golden and green fields of all sizes and shapes set across the landscape like some board game created by the mad god Sheogorath.

Somewhere beyond was Lake Rumare, the forester thought, and the ferry that she had taken across it. She imagined that the crew were still talking about her. So far as they had been able to tell she had fainted and remained unconscious for the entire trip across. She had seen no reason to tell them anything different. Telling people that she had seen a battle taking place hundreds of miles away as a bird did not strike her as a good idea…

Her eye picked out a rider among the traffic coming up the road below her who was different from the others. He wore the dragon tunic of the Imperial Legion, just like the riders she had seen on the road from Cheydinhal. He raced his horse past carts and pedestrians alike as he hastily made his way up the winding road. As he came nearer, she saw that he was a young Imperial with a face drawn by weariness and covered in dust. Yet he did not slow his horse as he bolted past her, and by then she could see that the sides of his mount were gleaming with sweat.

He must have been riding hard for some time, Teresa found herself thinking. What message might he have that was so important? she wondered. The news of the victory at Bruma perhaps? and the strange orb that Julian of Anvil had somehow taken from the destroyed Great Gate?

No one on the road had spoken of either during the wood elf's journey from the ferry at Sideways. It was a strange feeling, knowing something that no one else did. Yet Teresa had kept the knowledge to herself, again thinking of having to explain how she learned it.

Readjusting the sacks of Vilverin's loot she had slung over one shoulder, and the oval body shield of elven design hanging from the other, Teresa turned back to the city above and trudged on with everyone else on the road. In time she came to the Market Gate, its tall bronze portals long turned green with verdigris.

Only a single legionary stood guard at the gateway, which struck Teresa as being odd. Usually there were at least two on each side. Then she realized that most of them must still be at Bruma. It would probably take them at least a week to return. Methredhel must be enjoying that, she found herself thinking with a faint smile.

She could not stop her gaze from wandering to the Imperial Prison. Standing directly across from the Market Gate, it sat on a separate hill from the rest of the city. The only way to reach it was a wide, stone bridge that spanned the gap between it and the city hill. Perhaps it was all in her mind, but its grey stone walls looked more forbidding than those surrounding the city. Or maybe it was the old corpses of murderers hanging from the gibbet outside its entrance. She saw several new crosses there as well, supporting much fresher bodies wearing red robes.

She knew those robes all too well. They were exactly the same as those worn by the Emperor's assassins. Mythic Dawn agents! Where she normally felt pity for the poor wretches executed outside the prison, Teresa could not muster up the slightest ounce of feeling for them. She only hoped that they took a long time to die.

Turning back to the Market Gate, she found the legionary there eyeing her as she approached, even through the crowds of people who were always bustling into and out of the Market District. She did not know if it was her bandit-style hide armor, or the big sacks she carried, or perhaps even her flame red hair that caught his eye. In any case, she met the bull by the horns and strode directly to him.

"Do you know what day it is?" she asked. "I have been in the forest for a long time."

"It's Mondas ma'am," the soldier replied, looking her up and down. "The 28th of Midyear. So you're a woodsrunner then?"

"Yes," Teresa replied evenly. "I harvest alchemical supplies."

"Is that what you got there?" the Imperial looked at the shield on her shoulder, and the large bags she carried.

"No, I found this in Vilverin." Teresa said. "Most of it belonged to some bandits, before a necromancer killed them all."

"Good riddance to bad rubbish then." The legionary leaned over to spit on the pavement. His eye turned away from her, and back to the other people streaming to and from the city.

Teresa nodded, and continued on her way into the city. She had no doubt that a few months ago he would have said the same of her. All the Imperial Legion had, along with most other people in the city.

Her thoughts turned from that as she pushed her way into the bustling streets. Even as wide as the main boulevard from the gate was, it was packed with horses, wagons, and people, all shoving or dodging one another to get by. There were elegant patricians in their velvet and jewels, flanked by servants in fine linens and the occasional mail-clad bodyguard. Contrasting them were beggars and other proles in ragged sackcloth and patchwork flax. In between were ordinary working folk in worn flax and linen, and shopkeepers and artisans in slightly better fare.

The smell filled her nostrils. Human and animal sweat, mixed in with the stink of horse manure and the effluvium of garbage. After so many weeks in the wilderness, she could not keep the sour expression from her face as she breathed in the stench of so many people crowded in so close together.

They need to build more bathhouses, she thought to herself as she pushed her way through the crowds down Commerce Street to where it intersected with Market Way. There she paused to scan the crowds. She knew that this was Simplicia's favorite spot to beg, as nearly everyone coming into and out of the eastern half of the city passed through this crossroads.

Screenshot

Not seeing the old Imperial woman in the crowds, Teresa turned to her right, making her way northwest along Market Way. The largest boulevard that arced through the district, even it was packed with throngs going into and out of the many arcades and small squares along its length. Finally, in the same arcade that housed The Gilded Carafe, she spotted the aging woman.

"Simplicia!" Teresa could not restrain a shout as she picked up her pace, dodging past a cart loaded with pottery to reach the arcade. Once in the cool shade under the archways the forester slowed down, and she saw the old woman rise from where she had been sitting against the insula wall.

The beggar wore a patchwork dress of green flax that looked ready to fall apart at any moment. Her face was lined and wrinkled like old leather, and the dirty hair that spilled down her head was as dingy and grey as the stone wall behind her. Yet to Teresa's eyes, there was no more beautiful sight in the world.

Screenshot

Dropping her loot with a clatter, the young Bosmer wrapped her arms around the much older woman. All of her worries slipped away as Simplicia held her close. It was as if she has stepped out of the world for a moment, and into a land where nothing else mattered.

What a pleasure this was!

I know that the big city is the BIG city in TF and you did justice to the scale you intend.

I loved how you brought her 'flight of the raven' into perspective and tied it in with her ride on the ferry after Vilverin. Good choice, Teresa, in deciding not to try and explain that! This was very tightly wrapped into what has come before.

Your description of the IC was great. For Teresa, with all her recent time in the forest, the normal smells of the city must have seemed quite the assault on her nostrils - well done.

The familiar and the not so familiar, comfortably interwoven with great skill: The stone bridges and walls, the Imperial prison, Methredhel, Simplica - - yet laced with brilliantly new and creative touches including crucifixion / impaling of mythic dawn agents and ferry service across Lake Rumare.

As always, this was wonderfully done.

To say that your writing has gone to the next level over the last few months is one hell of an understatement. Wow! I don't think I have ever read such a balanced piece of writing before, it is so good it is insane.

First you pull off the impossible task of large scale combat in the last chapters and then bring us back to Nirn with a smooth transition into the arms of Simplicia. Wow!

No, scratch that, WOW!


I think your computer ate your 'had' for lunch!!

Well done!

I hear you about the marathon writing sessions! Sometimes I get so caught up in writing that five hours lapse before I look up at the clock. Yikes!

I didn't see any nits, that's how engrossed I was in this chapter. I liked the scale of the city, and the names of the streets. I have a hard time picturing IC as being a huge metropolis, so your description is very engaging.

And we see dear old Simplicia again! How wonderful, it's almost like going home again. I'm looking forward to seeing my favorite TF character again! Soon, I hope?

Good to see this updating again, as ever it's a pleasure to read.

The paragraph with the smells was bang on and was one of those lines which really brings a setting to life. It also hammered home just how big your IC is...

And now after she sells some loot I can't wait to see what happens.

Comments:
Beyond the great bulwark, the tall, slender spire of White Gold Tower floated high in the summer sky, seeming to nearly reach clouds themselves. - great description but I'm not convinced the first comma is helpful. Might just be the way I read it though.

passed through this intersection - I'm not sure about 'intersection', it could be an accent thing but to me the word conjurs images of either big scary American juntions with too many traffic lights or maths. It doesn't seem right with the setting, perhaps 'junction' or 'thoroughfare' would fit better, it might just be an accent thing though.

Anyway great stuff and I look forward to more.

Acadian: Thank you paladin. Big is definitely what I am going for with both the IC, and Tamriel in general.


Winter Wolf: Thank you Wolf. As you know I prefer the personal stuff, but writing the big sweep of battle last chapter was good exercise.

Quite right about lunch. I need to start feeding my computer more, so it does not continue munching on my words...


haute ecole rider: Thank you for those street names from the JF. It is little touches like that which help bring a setting to life.

If you favorite TF character is Jensine, then you are in luck! Just kidding. Vols will be very prominent this chapter.


Olen: Thank you Olen. I think the thing that Teresa will remember the most about the IC is the smell.

I decided to keep the first comment, but went and changed intersection to crossroads, to give it more low-tech feel.

All: This will be slightly big, at 2.2k, but I think it breaks at a good point. Next Teresa catches up with Simplicia, and we see the first sign of a new personal issue which will trouble her for some time. Finally, we have another surprise visit from The Hero of Kvatch.

* * *

Chapter 11b - The Knight of Swords

"My Teresa!" the old woman exclaimed, "You have been gone so long that I was almost afraid you forgot to come back!"

"I could never forget you Simplicia," Teresa breathed, feeling the other woman draw away. "I sent you a letter, did you get it?"

"Oh I did!" the beggar cried. Reaching into the folds of her skirt, she drew forth a folded up piece of parchment. "Jensine gave it to me just a few days ago! I could na' believe it. My little girl sending me letters, just like some fancy patrician! You should save your money though."

"None of it's wasted when it's for you." Teresa could not keep the smile - a real smile - from her lips. "Why aren't you wearing the new clothes I bought you before I left?"

"Oh I can't wear those when I'm workin'" the old woman waved her hand for emphasis. "Nobody'll give me half a drake unless I look poor."

"But you don't have to beg any more Simplicia." Teresa bit her lower lip. "I gave you enough money that you can stay at one of the plain inns, like Luther Broad's. I've got more now too, plenty more."

"Oh I can't go to Luther's," the old woman said. "It ain't safe! There was a murder there! Not long after you left, two Redguards, one a big man and the other a woman with hair white as snow, killed them some poor Breton fella there. The legion didn't do a thing neither, so they must'a been workin' for one of the nobles."

A Redguard with white hair? Teresa thought, could that have been Julian, and the other man Baurus? She had not seen him since leaving the prison nearly two months ago. Nor had she seen Julian, in the flesh at least, in nearly as long as well. Had that Breton been a Mythic Dawn assassin?

"Well you could go to The King and Queen then, or The White Mare." Teresa insisted. "You shouldn't be out here begging at all. Let me take care of you from now on."

"Oh I can take care of myself Teresa, don't you worry none about me," the old woman said with a wave of her hand.

"You shouldn't have to, and I do worry!" Teresa insisted. "I'm doing good now, and I want you to do good too. You took care of me for all those years, now it's time for you to let me take care of you."

"Oh I'm just fine as I am, I don't need much." Simplicia said. Now the Imperial looked at the sacks of gear that Teresa had discarded on the cobblestones. Poking a hand into one, she withdrew a bronze-colored mace of Dwemer manufacture. "Where did you get this? Have you been stealing? I swear ever since you met that Methredhel you've been going down the wrong path!"

"I didn't steal anything!" Teresa grabbed the mace from Simplicia and thrust it back into the bag. "I came upon this fair and square! It belonged to some bandits who died."

"You been killing bandits!" Simplicia's eyes widened in shock. "What have you been doing out there? You said you were just picking plants!"

"I am!" Teresa felt herself flush with warmth. "I didn't kill anyone. Someone else killed them. I just found them afterward and took all their things."

"Who would do such a thing and not take it all themselves?" Simplicia gave the much younger wood elf a hard stare.

"I don't know. Maybe it was the Imperial Legion, or maybe it was trolls." Teresa tried to come up with any explanation other than a necromancer who had nearly killed her. "It doesn't really matter. All that matters is I found it and now I'm going to sell it, and we're going to live good for a while!"

"Oh Teresa, you haven't been yourself since you disappeared. What happened to you, to make you so wild?" Simplicia said. "You need to settle down, before you get hurt, or worse. Keep your head down and stay out of trouble, that's the way to go."

"Keep my fetching head down!" Teresa could not contain the snarl that escaped her lips. Her heart was racing, and her hands clenched into fists. "I'm not going to spend my life in the damn gutter! And neither should you blast it!"

"Teresa!" Simplica's eyes widened again, and the old woman stepped back from the wood elf. "What's gotten into you! You were never like this before."

Because I never had any respect for myself before, Teresa thought to herself. It took all the willpower she could muster to avoid spitting those words back into the old Imperial's face. Instead she closed her eyes and forced her shaking fingers to uncurl themselves, laying her palms flat against the top of her greaves.

Calm down, the forester told herself, Simplicia was just worried about her, like she always was. Why was she getting so angry?

"I'm sorry Simplicia," Teresa sighed. "I just can't live like I used to anymore. I can't." In her mind, she heard the Emperor's words: "You have no idea what you can do, but I do" As if driven away just by thinking of him, her anger vanished as quickly as it had erupted.

"Let's go and sell this junk," she nodded to the bags of loot. "Then we'll get something to eat and catch up. I was thinking I would start at The Best Defense, since a lot of it is armor."

"No, don't go there," Simplicia warned. "They got a whole bunch of stuff in just the other day, you won't get no good prices there. Try Jensine, she buys everything."

"Ok I…" Teresa's words trailed off at the sound of shouts and cheers that suddenly broke out in the street outside the arcade. She and the beggar both turned to look, and before their eyes crowds began to form along either side of the thoroughfare.

"Emperor Martin!" she heard someone shout, and her heart skipped a beat.

"The Hero of Kvatch!" came another cry, prompting Teresa to take Simplicia by the arm and step closer. The crowds blocked their way though, and there was no pushing through them. Then the wood elf's eye spied a group of crates nearby, and a moment later she leapt atop one. Reaching down for Simplicia, she dragged her up as well, in spite of the older woman's protests.

Looking back to the street, she now saw that a group of riders were slowly making their way through the cheering mass of people. Leading the way was a middle-aged Breton wearing the banded armor of the Blades and carrying a curved sword. Close behind him came a thickly-muscled Redguard dressed in the same. Both looked worn and tired, and were covered in dust.

"It's Jauffre!" she cried out, pointing them out to Simplicia, "and that's Baurus!"

"How do you know who they are?" the old woman asked. Before Teresa could reply, a third rider came into view.

Like the other two, he rode a rather ordinary-looking brown horse. However, unlike them he was dressed in gleaming ebony armor emblazoned with golden dragons. A sword of the same dark material was slung at his hip. His helmet sat on his saddlehorn, allowing his dark hair to flow in the breeze that had suddenly kicked up. Blue eyes flashing, he greeted the crowds with a smile. It was Martin Septim, Teresa knew, the new Emperor himself!

What really drew Teresa's eyes was the great red jewel hanging from his neck however, bound in gold and surrounded by eight smaller gemstones of varying colors. She recognized it instantly, for she had once held it in her hands. The Amulet of Kings.

Had he been wearing that at Bruma? she found herself wondering. No, he had not, she realized. Was that because he had been afraid of it being broken in the battle? Somehow she doubted that. The Emperors always wore the amulet. Or at least all the statues and paintings of them showed them that way. Had he somehow not had the amulet at Bruma? But why not?

Teresa lost her chain of thought as the final rider came into view, bringing up the rear of the group. She was a middle-aged Redguard, whose snow white hair trailed down behind her shoulders in a ponytail. She wore mail armor covered in a white surcoat, with a back wolf's head across the chest. Suddenly she realized that was the symbol of Kvatch, as she heard people crying out: "The Hero of Kvatch!"

Julian of Anvil, she thought. She had been seeing her so much in her visions, and heard tales of her exploits so often on the road, that Teresa felt she knew the Redguard. A silly idea, the forester told herself, but still she felt that way nonetheless. Even though she had actually only met Julian for a very brief moment at Weynon.

The Redguard's eyes locked upon her own then, and the other woman nodded her head in acknowledgment.

She remembered! Teresa could not restrain the grin that crossed her features, nor keep her hand from rising up to wave at Julian and the other riders as they slowly pushed their way through the crowd.

"Look Simplica!" Teresa now turned to the older Imperial. "That's Julian of Anvil! And that's the new Emperor in front of her, Martin Septim!"

"Bah, none of them mean a thing," the beggar waved a dismissing hand at the riders and began to clamber down from the crate. "They're all the same, livin' their great big ivory tower. They don't know or care a fig for people like us down here in the street."

"That's not true," Teresa found herself saying. She reached down to steady the old woman as she stepped back to the cobblestones, and followed her a moment later. Long habit made her eyes dart to her bags of loot, and a feeling of relief washed over her when she saw they were still where she had left them. "They do care. They just fought a huge battle to protect all of us from the Daedra. All of them were in the thick of it. Now that the Emperor's back here, then the war must be over!"

The thought was like a tremendous weight being lifted from her shoulders. Ever since leaving Morcant, the Witch's chilling prediction had been gnawing at the back of her mind. The images of the cards had always been just beneath the surface of her thoughts: The Daedric Prince, The Tower, Death. Yet now that the battle had been won, and the Emperor returned to the city victorious, then it was all over, was it not? Was not that battle what the reading had been all about?

For some reason that made her think of Julian, standing in the wreckage of the Great Oblivion Gate, holding that strange orb in one arm. What had that been? Teresa wondered once more. Had that had something to do with why Martin had not been wearing the Amulet of Kings that day?

That had only been a few days ago, she found herself thinking, how had they gotten here from Bruma so quickly? Glancing back toward the street, she realized that they were not riding the same horses that they had in the battle. That is when it came to her. They must have used those dispatch posts she had seen on the road. They could have ridden nonstop since the battle, drinking Restore Fatigue potions to stay awake, and changing horses at every station. That could have gotten them here so quickly.

"How do you know about a battle?" Simplica asked as they walked back to the loot. "I haven't heard anything about that?"

"I found out about it on the road," Teresa said. "It was at Bruma. There was a huge army of Daedra that attacked the city, like at Kvatch. But the Emperor led the army against them and won!" At the cost of many people's lives, Teresa remembered. The sight of Morcant kneeling in the wheat beside Attius was burned into her mind. How many other people lost their loved ones that day? she wondered. How many soldiers had died, to protect people like herself and Simplicia?

"The Nine forbid anything like that happening here!" Simplicia reflexively looked up as she slowly walked from the edge of the street and back into the shade of the arcade. Teresa followed, forcing herself to slow down to match the older woman's glacial pace. For not the first time, she wished she had learned to create Cure Disease potions sooner. If she had been able to cure Simplicia's stonejoint quicker, she would probably walk much better today.

Well, if wishes were horses we all would ride, the wood elf thought to herself as they made their way back to her sacks of loot. Lifting one after another and hoisting them over her shoulders, she led Simplicia down a small alley that cut right through the insula. It led them back to Commerce street, and the Market Gate rose not far beyond her left shoulder. Pushing her way across the boulevard, she took another alley through the insula at the other side. Finally that led them into another arcade lined with shops The two of them made their way through the nearly deserted space, and Teresa was thankful for the crowd having gathered in the street. It was nice to have some elbow room once more.

I loved that Julian recognized Teresa from that so-brief visit at Weynon Priory a lifetime ago! Cool!

Simplicia's concern for Teresa's activities remind me of my own mother, especially when first my older sister, then I, went away to college and came home drinkin' and swearin'! "I did not pay tuition so you could learn how to drink and swear!"

The reference to Astav Wirich's passing in the cellar of Luther's tickled me no end!

It's wonderfully perceptive of Teresa to notice the Amulet. I wonder if the brief time she held it affected her. Of course, it's kind of hard to miss.

This was great! I loved how you anchored the whole story with Teresa and Simplicia. Yes, Simplica was understandably concerned for Teresa, and yes, Teresa stumbled trying to explain her bandit loot. I was impressed however by Teresa as she explained to Simplicia that she could no longer be meek and keep her head down - wisely put for one so young. I was even more impressed by Teresa as she explained to Simplicia that the 'royal party' passing by did indeed matter, and why. Beautifully done, SubRosa!

It was wonderful, as always, to see Julian again in this segment.


A nit, perhaps? My guess is that by the bolded 'to', you mean as in 'also'; therefore I would think you want 'too'.

I fell in love with Simplicia in this chapter. She reminds me of my grandmother, the woman who raised me and went to bed hungry so that my brother and I didn’t have to. The woman who was there with a small handful of folded money, a sandwich and a hot bowl of soup, or a warm bed and blanket for anyone who needed it, yet who constantly refused help even when offered simply because she refused to be a burden to anyone.

Experiencing the Oblivion Crisis second hand like this, through Teresa’s perspective, is just great. I am in awe of your use of the little subtle details like the ‘two Redguards who killed the poor Breton’, or the absence of the Amulet of Kings and the use of the dispatch stations to change horses en route to the IC while quaffing Restore Fatigue potions . . . inspired writing, ‘Rosa!

The memory of this chapter stays with one long after it is read. The believability of the characters and the sweeping vision of the crowd scene is what makes the heart of it tick. Bravo!

Simplicia just oozes a realness here that was a delight to read. She was not going to move and even a bargepole would not have shifted her position. And the more Teresa got upset the more her feet became set. Fantastic!!

Strangely, I came across Simplicia last night while I was playing Oblivion. She had her back to me in the Market District and refused to get out of my way. If I turned left, she blocked me, if I turned right, she was there again. I had the strong urge to just pick her up and place her down on the sidewalk!!
Please ask Teresa to have a word with her, would you? I have my shopping to do.

The part with Julian was so wonderful. I cannot wait to see how Haute finishes the MQ in her story.
The 'Hero of Kvatch' title does seem to fit our delightful Redguard.

Excellent part, I echo Wolf's comments on the believability of the characters, they all seemed completly real with perfectly done reactions in this part. Simplicia was just excellent, everyone must know someone like that and Teresa's reactions felt so real.

The comments about Luther Broad's brings the setting to life too.

And we got Julian, that part was a real treat.

haute ecole rider: Thank you h.e.o. Simplicia is where Teresa gets her stubbornness from. Teresa carried the Amulet of Kings for a week, so its something that she is quite aware of. Not mention as you said, it is hard to miss being so huge! We will see more about he effects of her being an amulet-bearer in the future...


Acadian: Thank you Acadian. That was a scene that showcased several of the changes in Teresa's attitudes. Her self-confidence, her temper, and her changing feeling toward authority figures.


Destri Melarg: Thank you Dest. I was never satisfied with the treatment I gave Simplicia in the original version. I wanted to give her more depth, to make her feel more real. She is the most important person in Teresa's life after all.

I am also glad you liked the little bits of second-hand info about the Oblivion Crisis, delivered in the same way ordinary people would learn them. That is also something I have been aiming for.


Winter Wolf: Thank you o frozen Wolf. I am glad the extra work I put into Simplicia worked for you. You just need to give her some money in the game!


Olen: Thank you Olen. Julian does have one more cameo next chapter, and it will be her largest part in the TF to date.


All: Now for some manly killing, and we meet the man this chapter is named after.


* * *

Chapter 11c - The Knight of Swords

The sight of a legionary gave her pause however. Wearing the dark plate of all his brethren, he towered higher than ordinary Imperials, taller than most orcs or Nords even. Icy blue eyes flashed from the recess of his plumed helmet, and now Teresa did freeze. She knew those eyes. They had been etched upon her memory since childhood. Even now she could still see that gauntleted fist smashing across her face, feel the crack of a tooth breaking loose from her jaw, and taste the warm, salty blood that filled her mouth afterward.

"It's that fetcher Volsinius," Simplicia muttered darkly from beside her. Somehow hearing the older woman's voice snapped Teresa back into motion. Blinking hard to wipe the image from her mind, she resolutely strode forward. She was not going to allow some thug to scare her, she told herself, never again.

Making a point to ignore the legionary, she led Simplicia to Jensine's 'Good As New' Merchandise, pausing there to let the older woman open the door for her. She was aware of Volsinius hovering near, and could feel that frozen stare of his upon the back of her neck. Let him stare, she thought to herself, she was not a child anymore, and was not going to be frightened by childhood hobgoblins.

The interior of Jensine's shop was spacious and brightly lit by glowstones. The stone walls were lined with shelves and racks of merchandise. Clothing, tools, tableware, furniture, even a few weapons and pieces of armor filled the shop. A glass counter stood near the front door, its innards filled with jewelry, curios, and even a magicka gem that glowed from the energy stored within it. Jensine had a little bit of everything, Teresa found herself thinking as she walked to the counter.

Behind the counter stood Jensine herself. She was tall for a human, with a solid frame clad in worn linen. Her green eyes were set within a face worn by time and troubles, and her red hair was so dark that it was nearly brown. She was talking to a brown-haired Bosmer near the back of the store. He wore simple clothing of flax, and was taking candles from a small crate and arranging them onto a shelf. It was Gelephor, Teresa knew, the night watchman from the warehouse next door. She had seen him often enough in the shops along the arcade. The only other person in the store was a Redguard whom the forester had never seen before, looking over the silver cups and pitchers that lined one shelf.

Screenshot

Screenshot

Jensine turned at the sound of the door. A scowl dropped away from her face, to be replaced by a warm smile. "Simplicia!" she exclaimed, "has that girl of yours come back yet?"

"She just got back this morning," Teresa said dryly, setting her bags down on the floor beside the counter. The shopkeeper gave her a blank stare as she looked her up and down. Then the human's features lit up in surprise.

"Teresa? is that you?" Jensine cried, "you look so different!"

The wood elf could feel her cheeks color with warmth, and stared down at the floor. Had she really changed that much? she wondered. Then with a faint smile she lifted her eyes back to Jensine's. It was more a question of how much she had not changed, rather than how much she had.

"That's my girl alright!" Simplicia's voice rang out from beside her. Even Teresa could not fail to note the pride on the old Imperial's voice. "I told you, she's an explorer now she is. All fancy in her leather, out there in the woods making potions."

"Well it's good to see you doing so well!" Jensine exclaimed. "If you need more henna for your hair let me know. I got some in a few days ago." Then her voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper, and she leaned closer to the wood elf. "I've got plenty of silphium too," she winked, "with that hair, you'll probably be needing it."

Now Teresa blushed again. She knew all about silphium, Methredhel and Adanrel had been taking it for years to keep from getting in a family way. But that was hardly ever a problem for her!

"I, um, have some things to sell that I found in the woods," Teresa tried to quickly change the subject. Lifting the elven body shield to the counter, she set it gently upon the wooden top.

"You found this in-" Jensine's voice was suddenly cut off as the door burst open and a Khajiit ran in, his eyes wide with terror. The source of his fear became evident a moment later, as a nightmare leaped through the doorway behind him. Covered in brown scales, the massive creature's head was long and narrow, and reminded Teresa of an Argonian's. Only Argonians did not have razor sharp teeth that were half a foot long. Nor did they have feet adorned with similar wickedly-edged claws, nor tails crowned with spikes.

A daedroth! Teresa realized, having seen plenty of them at Bruma. She stared in horror as the Daedric beast pounced upon the Khajiit, slamming the poor man face-down into the floor. Its foreclaws raked across the man's back, and he screamed in a high-pitched voice as chunks of flesh and bone were torn free. He went silent a moment later, as the monster's massive jaws dipped low and locked around his throat.

Teresa knew that she should do something. She should draw her bow, she thought, string it, nock an arrow, and shoot. Yet her body was frozen in place. All she could do was stare as her stomach churned at the sight of the Khajiit's head being ripped from his shoulders. Then the daedroth rose from the corpse and looked directly at her and Simplicia.

Now the wood elf found she could move again, and pushed the older Imperial behind her. She knew that she could never string her bow in time to use it. The handle of the Dwemer mace poked from the open top of one of the bags near her feet. She wondered if she would be able to reach it before the daedroth was upon her?

The sound of metal clanking against metal came to Teresa's ears, and then Volsinius was in the doorway. His arming sword was already in his hand, and its brilliant, silvery blade stained with dark liquid along its length. He only paused a moment to take in the scene, then sprang into action as the daedroth moved forward. Charging up behind the Daedra, his sword darted forward even as it reached out for Teresa. The monster stiffened as the legionary's blade pierced the back of its skull, and collapsed to the floor in front of the forester a moment later.

The shop erupted in a bedlam of screams and shouts as Volsinius turned from the daedroth and faced the open doorway. Teresa remained silent however. Her bow stave was in her hand now, and her fingers drew forth a string from a pouch at her waist. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a bright red-orange glow outside the shop. She knew what that was, she had seen it at Bruma as well. An Oblivion Gate!


***
I do not have an in-game screenshot, but I have always pictured Ray Stevenson as playing Vols, except with blond hair and blue eyes.

Damn.

You got it in one, girl. Yep, he looks the part...though of course Vols would be older, and more lined in the face.

Hmmm...you made Vols have a far different entry than the last story. Interesting. Let's see if you can get the same intensity here that you achieved then...


...waiting for your next post!

Yup, that's the way I always pictured Vols, only with a slightly broader face (i.e. a little more Slavic).

This is a different start to the Oblivion Crisis, and much more effective. It shows how things can change from the mundane, happy times to sheer horror in literally a blink of an eye.

I'm waiting to see how the rest of the Crisis plays out!

This was great!

Wonderful, almost majestic opening description of Volsinius.

What really struck me in this story was your economy of words. At one point I was marveling at the detail you provided inside Jensine's shop. Yet, after finishing the story, I find I myself amazed how much ground you covered - - without the slightest sense of rushing the story. Very well done!

Teresa knew exactly what a Daedroth and Oblivion Gate were because she had seen them at Bruma - beautiful touch.

I always loved this chapter from Beth and I still do!
It is brutal and to the point, you lavish us with just the right amount of detail.

Ahh Vols. Welcome back.

I loved the reference to childhood hobgoblins. Was that in the original? It seems to slip my mind for some reason.

Well you introduce Vols interestingly, I'm fascinated to see how you develop him. You've certainly introduced him in the thick of it, just when I felt a pause for breath coming on you have a daedric invasion of the IC. Good detail with the daedroth ripping the bloke apart.

Again you demonstrate how far Teresa has come but you moved it subtlly enough that its hard to place a finger on any major turn in her character (with the possible exception of meeting the Emperor though even then is was more in the mind and liad foundations...). Simplicia's pride after complining in private fits her character perfectly too.

A nit?!
Charging up behind the Daedra, his sword - an obsessive might point out at this juncture that strictly 'Daedra' is plural and 'Daedroth' singular but seeing as this conflicts with the name of an individual variety I can see why you used daedra as singular, however I'm less sure about the capitalisation (I wouldn't have noticed but the whole singular/plural thing drew my attention from the shop (where it had been firmly lodged)).

You, my dear, are truly a miracle worker. Loved the little hint to the Breton killed by Baurus. I also adore the depth you have given Simplicia.

D.Foxy: Thank you Fox.


haute ecole rider: Thank you h.e.o. I wanted to make the beginning of the attack seem really sudden and unexpected. I am glad it worked.


Acadian: Thank you Acadian. You know me, the soul of brevity. It is funny, now that she has read Varieties of Daedra, and seen the battle at Bruma, Teresa is something of an expert on Daedra now. At least the ones of Marooned Dragon.


Winter Wolf: Thank you wolf. The hobgoblins are a new reference, to go with the new scene of Teresa and Simplicia seeing Vols lurking outside of Jensine's.


Olen: Thank you Olen. I go for slow and steady with character development, showing a little bit at a time, precisely so I can get that sense you mentioned, of it being hard to point out just one moment where things change.

I am not using daedroth as a term meaning all daedra, as that is just confusing. The differences in capitalizations are part of the style sheet I have developed for writing ES, it goes with how I do Bosmer and wood elf, etc... At the Beth forums we had a topic devoted to sounding off questions and ideas about how to do things like that. here it is. It might be a good idea to start one here.


Remko: Thank you Rem. I am glad Simplicia is feeling real, working on that has been one of my goals in Teresa 2.0.


All: Next, Teresa finds herself in a desperate battle to survive the end of the Oblivion Crisis.

* * *

Chapter 11d - The Knight of Swords

Just as she finished stringing her bow, a mob of Daedra came pushing through the door. Unlike the giant daedroth, these were little runts, barely half Teresa's height and even skinnier. Their brown bodies were hairless, and reminded Teresa of goblins with their pointed ears and deformed features. Yet goblins did not have rat-like tails, nor hooked claws on their fingers.

"Damn scamps!" Volsinius cried out, striding into the mass of creatures. His bright sword chopped into the nearest, severing one of its bony arms in a smooth motion. That is when Teresa noticed that the blade of his sword was not made of steel, but rather of a bright, silvery metal. Mithril! she realized. She had seen the battlemages of the army wearing mail of the same material. Yet she could only recall of a few foot soldiers carrying weapons made of it. The centurions, with their transverse-crested helmets, and a few others who otherwise looked the same as any other legionary.

Two more of the monsters leapt upon Volsinius, their clawed fingers scratching ineffectually across the dark steel plate that girded his muscular frame. Dropping his sword, the soldier grasped one by the neck and smashed it against the wall. The creature hit so hard that its skull burst open against the stone, draping the wall with black blood as its body slid to the floor.

Teresa had an arrow in her hand then, and set it to the nock even as another of the creatures sprang at her. There was no time to think, or aim. She simply drew and loosed. The creature jerked in mid-air as the fletchings of her arrow sprouted from its shoulder. A moment later it landed heavily upon her. The forester shoved it off of her as it weakly grabbed for her torso with its good arm, and she reached for another arrow.

Simplicia's scream brought her around. One of the scamps had cornered the old woman against the counter, and was tearing at the long skirt she wore. Blood stained the Daedra's claws, even as the beggar pounded upon its head with her closed fists.

Teresa felt her blood boil at the sight. Ignoring the scamp at her feet, she turned and drew her bow to half tension, sighting in on the torso of the little monster. She felt a tugging at her legs, and heard something tear. She paid it no heed. Letting half of the air from her lungs, Teresa pulled the string back to her cheek and loosed. The scamp attacking Simplicia jerked as the arrow drilled through its heart, then fell still.

Teresa looked down to see the first scamp tearing at the leather and hide on her legs with its good arm. The enchanted armor flashed yellow with every strike of its claws, but was slowly unraveling under its assault.

Her heart, already racing, doubled its pace as she stared at the malformed features of the monster so near to her. Trying to jerk it loose, she kicked and flailed at the creature, feeling panic rise within her. It clung on like a tick however, and as she stared a ball of fire erupted from its slender fingers and washed over her legs. The forester gritted her teeth and screwed her eyes shut, anticipating the agony to come. Yet she did not feel a thing. Opening her eyes, she found that the leather sheathing her legs was not even singed by the Daedra's magical fire.

Then its skull dissolved under the bronze head of the Dwemer mace. Looking up, Teresa saw Jensine standing next to her with the weapon in hand. The screech of another scamp came from near the doorway, as Volsinius pinned it to the wall with his shield and used his long, triangular-bladed dagger to grisly effect upon its wiry frame. It fell silent a moment later, and the legionary allowed its corpse to drop motionless to the floor.

Now the shop went silent, but for the clanking of armor and gasps for breath by its mortal inhabitants. Looking around, Teresa saw that the scamps had either fled or been killed. Volsinius quickly moved to the door and slammed it shut. The immediate threat over, Teresa knelt on the floor beside Simplicia.

"How bad is it?" she murmured, biting her lower lip as she gingerly lifted the torn strands of dirty flax from the old woman's legs. Her heart lurched at the sight of the bloody claw marks that raked across the old woman's wrinkled flesh.

"Oh, I've had worse from rats," the beggar said. Yet Teresa could not fail to notice how the Imperial had to force the jaunty words from clenched teeth, nor could she miss the grimace that crossed the old woman's features.

"I can make some healing potions," Teresa said, shucking the pack from her back and digging for her mortar and pestle. "Just give me a few minutes."

"No," Simplicia said, her voice hard as iron now. "Save that for something worse."

Then Jensine was kneeling beside the two of them, and her thick fingers effortlessly tore up the already ruined bottom of Simplicia's skirt into bandages. "You go help the others with the door," the shopkeeper said to Teresa, nodding toward the men who were now piling tables, chairs, and even shelves against the entrance. "I'll take care of our lady friend here."

* * *

"That barricade is not going to hold for long," Teresa said in a quiet voice, eyeing the furniture and dead scamps piled at the entrance of the shop. As if to underscore her point, the door buckled as something that must have been large and heavy crashed against it from the other side. Reaching into the quiver at her hip with a creak of leather, the pale Bosmer drew forth an arrow and set it upon her longbow.

"If you have any armor or weapons, you had better get them now," Volsinius said as he stepped closer to the barricade and raised his sword and shield. The legionary was clad from head to toe in armor plate, and his heavy steps came with a clangor of steel on steel. Yet somehow his motions were not as ponderous as Teresa would expect from someone in so much metal. She could hardly imagine even being able to walk in it, let alone fight, yet he made it seem effortless. "I'll hold them off as long as I can, but just in case..."

Teresa still could not believe that Volsinius had just saved her life. It made her feel strange to think that way about the legionary. Yet here he was, the monster from her childhood, fighting for her very life.

"Go through Teresa's stuff, its filled with bandit armor and weapons." Simplicia cried, hobbling to where the sacks of loot still lay against the counter. Upending them, she spilled cuirasses of hide and leather across the floor, along with greaves, gauntlets, axes, and maces.

Teresa watched as the beggar and the others in the shop began picking up pieces of armor and hurried to put them on. They looked as confounded by the buckles and straps as she had been the first time she had to put on her own armor. The bard's stories always made it sound easy, but in reality armor was not something you could slip into as like a pair of breeches.

Teresa was thankful for her own bandit-style hide and leather armor. It might be revealing, but the Fire Shield that Morcant had enchanted it with had already proven its worth against the scamps. Thank goodness she had come across the Witch, she thought, otherwise where would she be?

That made her think of the tarot reading the Bosmer magician had done for her. The Tower, the Daedric Prince, Death. The cards rose in her memory, grimly echoed by the scene of horror within Jensine's shop. She had hoped that the reading had been about the Battle of Bruma, that it had all been over.

Yet as she looked at Volsinius, the image of the Knight of Swords also came to her mind. "This aids you," the Witch's voice floated in her memory. "A powerful fighter, who will be at your side when you need him most."

With that thought the planks in the center of the door burst inward, creating a fist-sized hole in the wood. Teresa thought she could see something dark and scaly through the opening. A moment later a great beak chomped into the edge of the aperture and tore another chunk of wood loose, widening the breach.

"Step aside," Teresa found herself saying to Volsinius as she moved up to the barricade. The legionary briefly turned to face her, and she was not sure if she should be pleased with the look of surprise within the Y-shaped slit in his helmet or not. But he did move aside as she raised her longbow and pulled it to half tension. Still, he held his sword and shield at the ready.

Letting out half of her breath, Teresa carefully sighted her arrow on the breach. Then she pulled the waxed string back to her cheek and loosed. A feathered shaft blossomed from the hole, and a hiss of what could only be pain issued from the other side of the door.

Wasting no time, Teresa drew forth another arrow and sent it chasing after the first. Now the shafts of both missiles vanished as they were pulled through the opening by whatever they were lodged within. The hissing stopped, and a loud thump came from the other side of the door.

"By Talos I think you killed it!" Volsinius declared, and turned once more to look at Teresa. This time it was with what she took to be grudging admiration. "You certainly have come a long way from that little street urchin stealing sweet rolls."

"You remembered that?" Teresa was stunned. She had thought he did not recognize her anymore, not after dyeing her hair red and starting her new life as a forester.

"Of course I remember," the soldier said, "oh you threw me for a while with the hair, but I always remember a face."

HELL YEAH!!!

That final dialogue...it was the one from the first story, and one of the pieces I abSOLUTELY loved...

aaaaannd IT'S BACK AGAIN!!! yEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!

:thumbsup:

Way to go, Vols, Teresa, Jensine, and Simplicia!

Let's get the one nit out of the way: An apostrophe ambushed your creatures here.

Do I know the feeling! It is what spurs us into action.


Yay, Jensine!

You have recaptured the sheer tension and exhilaration and fast pace of the Crisis here. I truly enjoyed this rewrite - it is much tighter and quicker-paced than before.

The action was immersive and heartpounding.

Buffy, sitting safely on my shoulder and reading along, shuddered when she realized that was a CLANNFEAR trying to get into the shop! Nice shooting, Teresa!

Lots of nice little touches, including the due you gave to donning body armor.

Reviewing the source of Teresa's own armor was a nice touch and fit beautifully with the way you tied the tarot cards from Morcant into the story. It was at that point, and with more than a faint smile, that I realized the full meaning of the wonderful name you gave this chapter. Knight of Swords, indeed.

Just when I thought it couldn't get any better, you finished by letting us know that Vols really did remember his encounter with the very young Teresa.

Fabulous!

That was quite a part, one of the best I'd go so far as to say. Pleanty of action but also a lot of charactery stuff and all seamless, I echo Acadian's comment on how well tieing her armour into leading to the tarot and Morcant worked.


That image really worked for me, I could see the bone blood and grey goo fly...

That's a powerful ending you gave it too, and a double cliffy. Not only is she barricaded in a shop with hordes of daedra outside but there's some juicy interaction to come too.

D.Foxy: Thank you Fox. That line was very important, as so much of the interaction between Vols and Teresa for the rest of this chapter (both spoken and especially unspoken), stems from it.


haute ecole rider: Thank you h.e.o. I put a lot more action into this chapter, and I hope the fast pace will keep it from feeling redundant after a while.

Also thank you for rescuing my creatures from that nasty apostrophe. Probably one of those snooty Alessian Orderists trying for force itself into my nice, elven word.

Jensine is going to keep that mace for defending her shop. I can already see where it will figure into later chapters.


Acadian: Thank you Acadian. That last segment, and this next one, are where it becomes apparent that Vols is indeed the Knight of Swords from Morcant's prophecy. In fact this is where many things began in that chapter with Morcant finally reach fruition.


Olen: Thank you Olen. As I am sure you noticed, I tend to keep the action to a minimum so it has a greater impact when it does happen. I also like to use it for character development whenever possible.

I am glad people like that line about Jensine killing the scamp. I was channeling years of watching anime into that visual!


Next: More Daedra, and more interaction between Teresa and her unexpected knight.

* * *

Chapter 11e - The Knight of Swords

Then the door buckled under another crash, and completely disintegrated after a second. What looked almost like a man stood in the entrance of the shop. He wore some sort of monstrous-looking metal armor that was rust red and covered with spikes and sharp ridges. In one hand he carried a jagged sword, and in the other a kite-shaped shield. His head was bare, exposing ashen skin and a pair of horns that rose up from his forehead. His eyes were fiery slits that scanned the room before falling upon Teresa.

"Your spine will be my trophy Bosmer!" His voice sent a chill through Teresa, sounding more like razor blades scraping against bare metal than the speech of a living being.

"A dremora!" Volsinius hissed, moving in front of Teresa with his shield up. His mithril sword was held low at his hip, edge parallel to the ground and point forward to stab.

"Give me room to shoot!" Teresa shouted, trying to push the legionary aside with her shoulder. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and every sane part of her was screaming at her to run. But something within her that was cold as Skyrim and hard as steel had risen up to steady her nerves and drive her on, as it always did in times like this

Volsinius moved aside while Teresa drew an arrow from the quiver at her hip. Clutching its shaft near the point, she drew hear arm across her waist to where a small jar hung on her left hip. Popping off the stopper with her thumb, she thrust the arrow into its open mouth and drew it back a moment later, leaving an inky paste smeared over the steel head.

By then the dremora had kicked a path through the corpse and furniture barricade and was charging forward. Teresa brought her bow to full tension in one smooth motion. There was no time to aim. She saw the fiery eyes of the monster in front of her, and simply loosed.

Then something large and unyielding shoved against her shoulder and sent her sprawling to the floor. Teresa heard the crash of metal on metal behind her, and when she turned her head and looked up she saw that Volsinius was standing where she had been an instant before, shield raised high to deflect the dremora's blade. If it had not been for him, she would have been standing there instead, she realized, and would probably have that sword buried in her skull.

As she watched, the legionary punched forward not with his sword, but with his shield. The dremora staggered, and Volsinius' arming sword darted forward like a serpent, striking low at the creature's belly. But the monster regained his balance quick enough to lower his shield and deflect the blow that would have gutted him. A second later it sent its own sword crashing once more into Volsinius' shield. Teresa could do nothing but stare in wonder. From where she lay on the floor they seemed more like a pair of gods trading blows than a mortal man and a monster.

The cold fury within Teresa did not allow her to stare for long however, and her fingers wrapped themselves around her bow. Scrambling to her feet, she reached for another arrow when the dremora suddenly slumped over forward, dropping his weapon and clutching at his midsection. His lips moved as if to speak, but no sound came out.

Volsinius did not spare a moment. He stepped forward and thrust the tip of his sword directly into the exposed flesh where the dremora's neck met his shoulder. A fountain of blood erupted from the terrible wound, yet the Daedra still made no sound. With a flip of his wrist that looked almost effortless, Volsinius tore out the rest of the monster's throat with his blade, and it finally crashed to the floor of the shop at his feet.

"I never landed a real hit till he doubled over like that," the legionary said, tapping his sword against the shaft of the arrow rising from the dremora's breastplate. "What's in that stuff?"

"Nightshade root," Teresa answered as she prepared her next arrow with the poison. "I was not sure if it would work on that thing."

"Good thing you were at point-blank range," Volsinius observed. "Its armor looks strong."

Teresa nodded as she poisoned another arrow and set it to the nock of her longbow. Simplicia and the others were now stepping up, clad in a hodgepodge of ill-fitting leather armor, with either an axe or mace in hand. If it were any other time Teresa would have laughed at how ridiculous they looked. But as it was she was having a hard enough time keeping her fingers from shaking on her bow.

"Volsinius I..." her lips tried to form the words to show her gratitude to the legionary. Yet as she looked through the slits in his helmet to his cold blue eyes, she found that her voice had deserted her.

She knew that she would be dead if it not for him, again, yet she could still not bring herself to even thank the legionary. She turned her face down to the corpse of the dremora at their feet, and was keenly aware of how red her cheeks were turning.

"There is nothing to say citizen," the legionary rasped. He strode to the doorway and began throwing junk back into the opening to rebuild the barrier. "We are here to serve."

Teresa had heard the men and women of the Imperial Legion say that a thousand times, but never to her until a few weeks ago. Once more her tongue felt the empty spot between her teeth, and she remembered that gauntleted fist crashing against her cheek. What do you do when the monster of your childhood saves your life? she wondered.

"Are you ok?" Teresa heard Simplicia ask, and she looked up just as the older woman brushed the red hair from her face to caress the same cheek that Volsinius had struck years before. "You had me scared to death."

Teresa wanted to say that she was just as frightened, but she did not think that the elderly beggar needed to hear that right now. Instead she put a comforting hand on Simplicia's leather-clad shoulder and forced a faint smile to her lips. She was just glad that both of them were still alive.

"What is going on out there?" Jensine asked, gingerly stepping near the doorway where Volsinius stood, but not too near...

"It looks like all Oblivion has broken loose," the legionary said, "this must be what it was like at Kvatch..., or Bruma."

"Bruma?" asked Gelephor, clutching an axe in his hand so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. "What about Bruma?"

"There was a big battle there a few days ago," Teresa found herself saying. "The whole army was there, and the new Emperor, and they stopped the Daedra."

"You're well informed," Volsinius rumbled, his eyes narrowing within the slits of his helmet. "We only just got the news from a courier a few minutes before all this started."

"But they stopped them right?" Jensine said, grasping onto that fact like a drowning woman onto a piece of driftwood. "So what are they doing here?"

"There must still be some left." Volsinius stated the obvious. "Most of the Fifth are still up at Bruma, so this is a damned bad time for it too. At least the Emperor's here. He stopped them before, he'll do it again. We just have to dig in our heels and hold out until then."

The Emperor! Teresa thought. He had been at Kvatch, she realized. Jauffre had sent Julian there to get him. Then he was at Bruma, and now here in the city. Every Daedric attack had been on a place where he was. They were after Martin!

Volsinius raised his shield then, and a moment later one of the massive crocodilian Daedra hurtled through the doorway and crashed against it. The legionary staggered backward with the daedroth's claws still wrapped around the edge of his shield. As Teresa watched in horror, she saw its long, serpentine head dart forward over the rim of his shield and at the soldier's head.

Somehow Volsinius threw his sword in front of his face, and the creature's jaws snapped around it rather than his head. The legionary tried to slash with it and rip the Daedra's jaws in half. But Teresa could see he was still off-balance, and was unable to get the strength of his body behind the motion. Instead the monster snapped its head to one side, tearing the sword from Volsinius' grip and spitting it across the room.

Teresa leaped into action then, darting forward right beside Volsinius. The wood elf saw the Daedra's head rear back for another strike, jaws gaping wide. She brought her bow to full tension in one swift motion, and the monster's head rushed forward as she loosed. A moment later it whipped back again with a brief flash of light. The feathered shaft of her arrow sprouted from the roof of its mouth, and its steel head erupted from the back of its skull.

The massive beast fell to the floor of the shop a moment later, still clutching Volsinius' shield in its claws. The legionary would have fallen with it if Teresa and Jensine had not been there to steady him. Once he had his legs under him, he used his free hand to pry the monster's dead claws from his shield.

"Those things hit harder than a troll," he gasped. "I think I saw the flash of a Shield spell when you hit it too. That was good shooting Bosmer."

Teresa had no time to think of a reply, because at that moment another of the dremora came charging into the shop, this one armed with a wickedly-flanged mace. Before either she or Volsinius could react, Gelephor, the Redguard, and even Simplicia rushed forward from all sides and hacked at it with their weapons. For a moment it staggered under the assault, but then it regained its feet and sent Gelephor flying with a backhanded swat of his mace.

Teresa drew forth another arrow and set it on her bow. Pulling it to half tension, she tried to sight in on the monster. But Simplicia, the Redguard, and now Jensine were clustered around it. She could not shoot without hitting one of them. She lowered her bow and tried to move to get a better angle, but there was always someone in the way. Then suddenly the dremora dropped to the floor with the Redguard's axe buried in the back of its skull.

Gelephor did not rise however, or make a sound. A moment later Jensine found that he was dead, his ribs crushed by that single blow of the dremora's mace.

It was wonderful to see the citizen rally with the second dremora - they weren't about to let Vols and Teresa do all the fighting by themselves, were they?

Yet it was sad to see Gelephor die, and just when his axe dealt the death blow to that dremora, too!

Such is battle, and though the scale is much smaller than Bruma, it is no less intense.

This was magnificent! Character interaction and development within the crucible of a brutal fight. Teresa's feelings are powerfully and well-presented.

From where she lay on the floor they seemed more like a pair of gods trading blows than a mortal man and a monster.
- What a chillingly powerful image!

"But they stopped them right?" Jensine said, grasping onto that fact like a drowning woman onto a piece of driftwood.
- This was wonderfully evocative.

She brought her bow to full tension in one swift motion, and the monster's head rushed forward as she loosed. A moment later it whipped back again with a brief flash of light. The feathered shaft of her arrow sprouted from the roof of its mouth, and its steel head erupted from the back of its skull.
- This made me cheer for the lethal power and beauty of the longbow.

Teresa drew forth another arrow and set it on her bow. Pulling it to half tension, she tried to sight in on the monster. But Simplicia, the Redguard, and now Jensine were clustered around it. She could not shoot without hitting one of them. She lowered her bow and tried to move to get a better angle, but there was always someone in the way. Then suddenly the dremora dropped to the floor with the Redguard's axe buried in the back of its skull.
- Buffy was screaming and jumping about as we read this. How well we know the frustration of helplessly trying to take a safe shot among fast moving friends and foes. You captured it perfectly!

I like how you protrayed the awkwardness that Teresa felt in thanking Vols, it rang true and added a side of character to the action which you always seem to manage to include. It makes a big difference and the result is far more than the sum of the two.

You captured both the difficulty faced by ranged weapons firing into melees and also the difficulty of facing multiple opponents even if they are weak (as the dremora found to its cost).


Nice accuricy in choosing the most poisonous part of the plant, I've never understood beth choosing the flower in game. It might have been an idea to mention a second ingregient though because I don't think nightshade is a particularly quick poison (though I could be wrong, it certainly isn't very potent (less than ~7grams of root is quite survivable)). But that does assume their nightshade is the same as ours.

Anyway great part, I do wonder if they will stay hiding though...

From where she lay on the floor they seemed more like a pair of gods trading blows than a mortal man and a monster.
- I agree with Acadian. This is epic description for the moment of the battle. Visceral!

Simplicia and the others were now stepping up, clad in a hodgepodge of ill-fitting leather armor, with either an axe or mace in hand.
- This really made me laugh. The battle is over and up they step.

The way you write Vols is so good. Teresa is always concerned about her treatment is the past but Vols is always the first to put it all on the line for her. The soldier in him overrules everything.

haute ecole rider: Thank you h.e.o. I invoked the Angry Peasant Law with that segment, showing how a mob of ordinary people can be extremely dangerous when their backs are to the wall.


Acadian: Thank you Acadian. This chapter is now chock full of fighting, but that one line about gods trading blows was always one of my favorites.


Olen: Thank you Olen. I did some research in real world poisons before eventually deciding upon nightshade as being Teresa's toxin of choice. You are correct that real nightshade would not be so deadly, so fast. Real world poisons cannot compete with the ones we see in video games. Even King Cobra venom usually takes 30-45 minutes to kill.

I put it down to the fact that Teresa is not just an ordinary person using nightshade, but rather an alchemist. So just as she can draw magical restorative qualities out of a sprig of lavender, she can pull magical poisonous qualities out of the nightshade, making it much more powerful than it otherwise would be.

What is really amazing is how many toxic plants are perfectly safe to eat in Oblivion. Monkshood, mandrake, amanita, etc... I don't think Bethesda researched many of the plants they decided to include.


Winter Wolf: Vols is meant to be that multi-faceted character you are seeing. On one hand he represents the worst of authority. In that regard he has become a very powerful symbol in Teresa's mind of the oppression of poor people like herself. Yet on the other hand he also represents the good in the military/police, being the shield of ordinary people against danger. As such, he plays a very key role in Teresa's feelings for the Imperial Legion.


All: After some ruminations in the bathtub, I have gone back an made Volsinus' sword mithril. This is part of a bit of world-building, in which all centurions, optios, and file leaders will be armed with them to fight against critters like ghosts and will-o-the-wisps, who are immune to normal weapons. Where the regular rank and file would be armed with steel. I know in the game every legionary has a silver sword, but giving them each a mithril one seems too unrealistic. It would just cost too much. The Empire is already spending a ton of money on them with their armor and training as it is.

Next, more of our band fall before the never-ending tide of Daedra, and Simplicia shows what a parent is capable of when their children are threatened.


* * *

Chapter 11f - The Knight of Swords

The Daedra continued to pour from the Oblivion Gate outside the front door. There were larger versions of the scamps they had previously fought, another of the daedroth, and many more dremora. Somehow they held them off, and more than once it was the armor and weapons that Teresa had taken from Vilverin that made the difference. Especially the suit which Morcant had enchanted for Teresa, for it held up to everything the Daedra threw at her.

Still, their good fortune could not last forever under the onslaught. With an Oblivion Gate directly outside the front door, the first thing every Daedra that came through it saw was the shop. Because of that there seemed to be a never-ending tide of the monsters charging in. The Redguard was the next to die, pummeled to death by a clannfear that had burst into the shop with a flame atronach.

Teresa had been able to put herself in the way of most of the second creature's fiery blasts, her enchanted armor blunting the heat of the magical flames. Yet when the clannfear came after her, she was forced to scramble on top of the counter to avoid being crushed by the beast's headlong charge.

The wood and glass frame of the counter shattered under the impact, and Teresa found herself falling behind it. Looking up, she saw Jensine pound on the bony sail that ringed the monster's skull with her Dwemer mace. Yet each strike brought a wince of pain from the woman, who soon dropped to the floor with blood caking her head. That was when Teresa remembered what Varieties of Daedra had said about clannfears. They magically reflected some of the harm done to them back upon their attackers.

Yet that did not work on missiles, or magic, she recalled. Thanks to Jensine, she had the time to get back to her feet and nock another arrow. As the monster climbed over the wreck of the counter, she drilled an arrow through one of its eyes from less than a foot away.

Looking across the shop, she saw the flame atronach drive a roundhouse punch into the elven body shield that Simplicia held. The old woman went sprawling to the floor, the enchanted shield falling from her hand. Teresa scrambled for an arrow with shaking fingers as the atronach stepped closer, raising a hand and pointing it at the stunned beggar. No! Teresa cried silently, frantically trying to fix the arrow to her bowstring.

A bright streak of flame erupted from the Daedra's fingertips. Yet the blaze did not engulf Simplicia. For Volsinius had stepped in front of her at the last second, and instead the yellow fire spilled across his shield. He staggered under the blast, and the wooden core of his shield ignited with even brighter flame, forcing him to hurl it aside.

The atronach raised its arm, pointing directly at the legionary's head. He tried to turn away, but was not quite fast enough, and fire spilled across the left side of the helmet. Now the legionary did scream. He fell, grabbing for his helmet, and Teresa could see fire licking from the slit cut within its face.

But then she had an arrow on her string, and let fly. The flame atronach jerked to the side as it drove into its armpit. Turning to face Teresa, it sent a bolt of fire after her. She did not bother to dodge, and allowed the magical flames to harmlessly wash over her. Then she sent another arrow into the feminine torso of the Daedra. It staggered once more, and then Simplicia was on her feet again, driving her axe into its skull.

* * *

Volsinius' helmet lay on the stone floor, still glowing from heat beside the ashes of his shield. His head was blackened from top to bottom with what looked like soot, and what little hair he may have had before was gone, even his eyebrows. Teresa wondered how much of the ashen residue on his face was from the burning of his helmet liner, and how much was his own flesh? His left eye was shut, but his right shone with the same glacial hardness it had always possessed as he rose to his feet and gathered up his mithril blade.

"We need to get upstairs," he rumbled, eyeing the open doorway, whose frame was bathed in the red-orange glow of the Gate outside. "They can only come at us one at a time on the staircase."

So Teresa and Simplicia gathered up Jensine and carried her to the stairs at the side of the shop. The merchant's head was covered in blood, and Teresa thought she could see white pieces of bone showing. Yet Jensine still breathed. She had better, Teresa thought, she had forced the last of her healing potions down the shopkeeper's throat before picking her up.

They found the door was locked, but Simplicia discovered the key on a ring of them hanging from Jensine's waist. Within they found a single large room that was divided into sleeping, kitchen, dining, and sitting areas. At any other time Teresa would have been amazed at the linen tapestries and paintings that hung from the walls, the bookcase filled with leather-bound volumes, or even the painted vases which held flowers and other plants. She knew it was entirely ordinary, but to her street urchin's eyes it was practically a palace. Yet all she could think of now was to throw whatever furniture she could gather against the door behind her.

Glancing out a window as she worked, the wood elf could see that the street was pure chaos. All manner of Daedra stalked here and there, chasing down whatever mortals showed themselves. Some of the people fought back however, and it was not only mortal bodies that littered the cobblestones. The air was filled with screams and the stench of burning wood and flesh. It was a nightmare come true, and once more the forester was reminded of the Tower card. Everything Morcant had predicted had come true, she thought.

A pounding at the door brought Teresa around. A moment later it burst open with a sizzling of lightning, and Teresa could feel her hair standing on end. Within the doorway stood a dremora armed with a mace and shield. Behind him stood another with a staff, whose twisted end still smoldered from released energy.

Volsinius rushed forward, shoving at the first dremora and trying to push him down the stairs. The monster held his ground though, and instead it was the legionary who was thrown back. The dremora's mace licked out, and the soldier raised his left arm to block it. The flanged head of the weapon struck the legion armor with a loud crack, and Volsinius staggered. While the soldier was still off-balance, the dremora followed with a thrust of his mace, burying the spike at its tip deeply into the legionary's gut. Yet still Volsinius did not fall. Somehow he took hold of the Daedric weapon with one gauntleted hand and held it fast. His own sword struck out then, but was pushed aside by the dremora's shield.

Then one of the Teresa's poisoned arrows buried itself under the dremora's extended right arm, piercing the weaker mail there. The dremora let go of his mace and fell to one knee. That gave the magician behind him room to see however, and the next thing Teresa knew lightning was dancing in front of her eyes.

Her body burned, and she could not restrain the scream that tore through her lips. Most of the pain subsided a moment later, and shaking her head, she found herself lying on the floor, smoke curling up from her frame. She tried to rise, but agony lanced through her belly, causing her to fall back to the floor. Looking down, she saw that her leather and hide cuirass had virtually disintegrated, and she hoped the blackened mass she saw beneath it was only the linen tunic she wore underneath, and not her flesh.

Her heart was a hammer in her chest. She had to do something, she realized, or they were all doomed. She saw Volsinius struggling to pull the mace tip from his stomach, now on his knees in front of the dremora who had stabbed him. Simplicia stepped beside him and pummeled at the dremora with her axe, yet its armor was strong, and her blows fell away with no obvious effect. Still, mace lost, and poison coursing through its body, the dremora did not rise to strike back at the beggar.

Then the dremora mage filled Teresa's vision, and she saw its staff lower. Agony shot through her body as once again lightning engulfed her. The stench of burning meat filled her nostrils, and the shrill sound of screaming was in her ears. The entire world vanished into a haze of white hot anguish.

When the room swam back into view, Teresa found Simplica standing over the body of the dremora mage, bloody axe in hand. Behind her lay the dremora maceman, glassy eyes staring at the ceiling overhead. Volsinius lay face-down nearby, and the wood elf was not sure if he still breathed or not.

Talk about the chaos of war.

You have captured the fast pace and frenetic activity that is all too typical of CQ combat. Also, the limited endurance of people holding fast on a piece of land against an endless onslaught is well captured on a smaller scale here.

I think you have added more detail this time around. However, one little detail seems to have fled:
While I'm sure the arrow packs quite a sting, I think the "r" has panicked and disappeared on you!

gRRRRRRitty! Wow! Let my heart slow, whew.

Non stop action that just kept building. Your combat descriptions were painfully immersive. Bravo, SubRosa!

Everyone was heroic, but so very real and human (or elven as the case may be) in their limitations.

I really liked the 'optional' part you put in describing Teresa's reaction to seeing Jensine's private quarters upstairs. The heat of battle does not filter 100% of one's 'normal' thoughts out of mind. Oddly, it reminded me of wonderful bobg describing Sarrah's unrelated thoughts such as the body odor of her foe or cooking dinner with Angel during a deadly melee encounter. A small and brilliant diversion allowing readers to catch their breath as the action shifted upstairs.

I look forward to the aftermath of this with intrepidation. So much damage to so many lives. You make it very clear that this pitched battle was just one of countless simultaneous 'fire fights' in the city.


nits?
The latter part of this seems to be missing a word? Perhaps: ...through it saw was the shop.

Similarly, perhaps a missing word in the latter part of this passage as well? ...bathed in the red-orange glow {of / from / cast by?} the gate outside.

Who makes this old warrior's heart pound, lips snarl, and feet subconciously dance by her writing?


Who is ... SUB ROSA!!!


Jeopardy question answered!!!

Wow... That was gritty, violent, and real. The fast paced confusion and desperate fighting was well caught, as was the wearing down of them by the daedra. Nice detail with the clanfear damaging Jensine, things like that really make this story stand out in terms of worldbuilding and bringing the lore to life.

That gate had better shut pretty soon now though! Simplicia with an axe is only going to last so long... And neither will my patience, after such an exciting fast paced part I want more

I agree that Beth's choice of ingredient effects are quite bizarre... but I suppose they had to work with gameplay mechanics. There are a few fast action natural poisons, strychnine would be the main one (though non of the ingredients in game have much in).

My only mild nit would be:
"Volsinius' helmet lay on the floor, the left side melted into a shapeless mass of steel beside the ashes of his shield. His head was blackened from top to bottom with what looked like soot, and what little hair he may have had before was gone, even his eyebrows." -- after the gritty realism of the rest of it this stuck out a bit, if the heat was enough to melt the steel I would have thought it would taken his face clean off even through the helmet.

I agree with Olen on the steelpart however; seeing it is plate, it exchanges heat SUPER fast.

haute ecole rider: Thank you h.e.o. Fast-paced is what I am trying for. That "r" probably got scared away by the Clannfear. I convinced it that it was safe to return however.


Acadian: Thank you Acadian. Heroic yet with real limits is what I always want to portray in battle scenes. Uber characters get boring pretty quickly.

Thank you for spotting my missing words in those passages. They probably ran off with haute's "r" above. The MPs have rounded them up and returned them back to their units now.


D.Foxy: Thank you DF.


Olen & Remko: Thank you Olen. Yours and Remko's nit has been addressed.


Next: Teresa and Simplicia are all that remain of our desperate band, and the Daedra continue to attack. However, they have one last card to play...


* * *

Chapter 11g - The Knight of Swords

"Oh my baby girl!" Simplicia cried out, hobbling to Teresa's supine form and cradling her in her arms. The wood elf's body screamed in agony at the Imperial's touch, yet somehow the old woman's embrace cut through all of that. It was like she was a child all over again, crying after being beaten up by the bigger kids, and for a few moments she found comfort in the old woman's arms.

But the pain that lanced through her would not be held at bay. Gritting her teeth, she formed the image of her healing spell in mind. Picturing herself healthy and whole, she gathered up her magicka into her fist. Letting it go, a white sphere of light erupted from her fingers, washing over her body like cool water on a hot day.

Teresa felt some of the pain subside then, but her body still ached. Again and again, she called up her magicka and loosed it into her healing spell, until finally she had none left within her. By then she was able to climb to her feet, Simplicia steadying her. Her eyes fell upon her backpack, and she remembered Morcant's parting gift.

"There's a scroll in my pack," she croaked, nodding toward the leather bag. "Get it. Use it when they come again."

"A scroll?" Simplicia muttered, hobbling across the room on bloody legs and stooping before the pack. Teresa thought she heard footsteps on the stair below, and drew forth another arrow from her quiver. The last one, she thought, burying its tip into the poisoned jar at her hip.

The old woman drew forth the rolled up parchment when a dremora swordsman came in. The wood elf could see others of its kind on the stair behind it. Raising her bow, she took careful aim and loosed. Yet the Oblivion-spawn lifted its shield, and the missile buried itself harmlessly in its face.

"How do I use it?" Simplicia asked frantically, limping further back in the room with all the speed her aged frame could muster.

"Just read it!" Teresa shouted. Now the dremora was upon her, its sword falling at her head. Out of reflex she threw up her bow stave, and heard it crack as the Daedric steel drove through it. Yet it was enough to slow the weapon, for it only bounced off the hardened leather that remained on her shoulders, rather than taking her arm with it.

Still, that was enough to drive Teresa to the floor. Out of reflex she fixed the symbol of her Flare spell in mind. Yet when she put her hand out, nothing came forth. She had no magicka left, she realized hopelessly, she had used it all on her healing spells moments before.

"Grizzly?" she heard Simplicia say in a voice filled with doubt. Teresa heard a whoosh of energy fill the room. Yet her eyes were taken up by the sight of the dremora standing over her, sword held over his head, so that the point nearly stuck against the high ceiling of the room. Closing her eyes, she gritted her teeth and waited for it to fall, and take her life with it.

Instead the pungent musk of an animal filled her nostrils, and a snuffling noise came to her ears. Opening her eyes once more, she saw a mountain of brown fur rising before her. A massive paw lashed out, and the dremora's head jerked to one side with a loud crack. The Daedra fell like a ragdoll, and Teresa pulled herself to her feet.

Before her stood a grizzly bear, a massive bundle of muscle, fur, fangs, and claws. As she watched, the gigantic animal reared back on its hind legs and stood upright. A roar split through the room as it leaped forward at the other dremora. One raised a shield to defend itself, but was thrown to the floorboards by the massive beast. The bear's muzzle dropped then, and came away black with Daedric blood as the dremora's head rolled away.

Screenshot

The other Daedra turned and fled then. Yet one was not quick enough. The grizzly pounced on it and drove it face-down into the floor. The bear tore apart the armor on the dremora's back, and Teresa was reminded of how the first daedroth had done the same to the Khajiit at the beginning of the attack. Daedric screams filled air, and soon chunks of flesh and bone were being ripped away as well. Within a few minutes the screams ceased, and the bear lifted its stained muzzle to let forth a roar of triumph.

Thank the gods it is on our side, Teresa thought as she watched their gargantuan protector standing in the doorway, and thank Morcant. For without the Witch's scroll, both she and Simplicia would have been dead.

Simplicia came up to her then, with one wary eye upon the bear which she had summoned. Looking down, Teresa saw that her bow was in pieces on the floor. Not that it would have done her much good anymore with no arrows left. Likewise, she saw that her armor was nothing but tatters on her slender frame, rent by claw, fang, swords, and magic.

Better it than me, Teresa thought, and once more she silently thanked Morcant. She knew that her old armor would have never stood up to that punishment. Especially not from the flames. Once again, she owed her life to meeting the Witch.

She limped forward with Simplicia in tow. That is when she was struck by the silence that filled the air. There were no screams, no shouts, no crash of booted feet on the stairs. It was as if somehow the battle had paused, and the world held its breath.

That is when she heard it. A man's voice in her ear, soft and raspy. She knew instantly whose it was, for she had heard it before, raised above the din of battle at Bruma. Martin Septim, the son of Uriel.

"The amulet is shattered, the Daedra are defeated.
With the dragon's blood in the Amulet of Kings,
we have sealed the Gates of Oblivion, forever

The last of the Septims passes now into history.
I go gladly, for I know my sacrifice is not in vain.
I take my place with my father, and my father's fathers.

The Third Age has ended, and a new Age dawns.
When the next Elder Scroll is written, you shall be its scribe.
The shape of the future, the fate of the Empire, these things, now belong to you."

And with that, we can now catch our breaths and all fall down in exhaustion!

Thanks to our friend, Morcant's grizzly, we gave those last few daedra what-for! May they never underestimate the beasts of Nirn again!

Whew! I bet you were glad when you finished writing this one!

Wonderful SubRosa. Powerful stuff indeed. Poor Teresa, out of airspeed, altitude and ideas (or bow, armor and arrows if you prefer). Thank you Morcant for that scroll!

Many wonderful threads weaving through this. Teresa's relationship with Simplicia, the pitched battle both in and out of Jensine's store, the references to Morcant.

I loved the use of the bear scroll. Similarly, how very powerful to end with Martin's words.

Thanks for the screenie. Here are some more pix of your cast:
Vols:
Dremora:
Morcant:
Simplicia:
Teresa:

I know something of Ursus Horriblis from personal encounters....600 to 1,200 pounds of beast...


..and I can tell all you readers that SubRosa is, if anything, underestimating the power of a grizzly. These beasts have been known to flip over a two-ton stone boulder just to get to something interesting they have sniffed underneath.

A real Grizzly would not have thrown the dremora to the floorboards with a swipe. If he was using his full power, he would have smashed that dremora THROUGH a wall.

I once saw a demonstration of a Grizzly Bear's strength by leaving some food in a car.
You'd say a door is secured tightly to the car? Nope, one tear, gone is the door, same goes for the seats. Basically, a bear can turn a car into scrap in mere seconds.

Like I said, never underestimate Kynareth's kin!

Chapter 11c

So Ray Stevenson as Vols, eh? I can absolutely see it. Now I like Vols even more. As great as Stevenson was as Titus Pullo, I liked him even more as Dagonet in the under-rated King Arthur with Clive Owen and Ioan Gruffud (we shall choose to ignore his unfortunate turn in Punisher: War Zone).

You presentation of the climax of the main quest in the IC is nothing short of amazing. Again I love the fact that Teresa seems to be swept up in the events as they unfold. You move us seamlessly from the mundane occurrences of the day with the perfectly detailed description of Jensine’s and Simplicia’s obvious pride at Teresa’s success in the wilds. Through Jensine’s eyes we are able to see once again how that self-sufficiency shows even in Teresa’s appearance. Then what was an enjoyable interlude goes absolutely bats@#$ insane as the Oblivion Crisis explodes close to home! Excellent.

Chapter 11d

I got completely lost in this chapter. One of the hallmarks of great storytelling is the ability to make your reader forget that he/she is reading a story. We all strive to give the feeling that our reader is experiencing the story right along with the characters. To say that you succeeded in this chapter is a gross understatement. I love how Teresa ignored the scamp at her feet to concentrate on protecting Simplicia. I also loved Jensine’s quick thinking in bashing that scamp with a mace and then dividing the armor from Vilverin amongst the others. The ending with Vols was the icing on the cake, Teresa sure has come a long way from that skinny elf in the oversize leathers killing goblins in the sewers!

Chapter 11e

I agree with Olen: Teresa’s awkwardness in trying to thank Vols really underscores the conflict that she feels towards the man. How often in life do strong emotions turn upon themselves? Love turns to hate and joy turns to rage all too quickly (just ask basketball fans in my home town, Cleveland).

Gelephor’s death was regrettable, but it serves to show us just how precarious the situation is. So far I’ve counted at least six Daedra that have already stormed through Jensine’s door. How much longer can the motley crew inside hold out? I can’t wait to find out.

Chapter 11f

I had it all thought out in my head. I was going to go into great detail about everything there was to like about this chapter. I was all set to wax poetic about the depth and force of your writing of late. But, alas, I reach the end of the chapter and only one thought burns into my mind.

NOT MY ARMOR!!! DAMN!!!!

Chapter 11g

For some truly interesting reading on the subject of grizzly bears check out the journals of the Corps of Discovery. The men who followed Lewis and Clark into the wilderness encountered grizzlies that required the better part of a day and bags full of ammunition to put down! Their descriptions paint the beasts as almost supernatural in their strength and ferocity. Like Foxy and Remko said; those Dremora got off easy.

haute ecole rider: Not finished yet. There is still one more segment in our drama.


Acadian: Thank you Acadian. I had all of this planned when I wrote The Witch of Lake Trasimene. The advantage of working with an outline that stretches far in advance. That last pic of Teresa was absolutely perfect!


D.Foxy: I kept the grizzly low-key on purpose. I did not want it to seem too overdone. It gets the job done, killing everything in sight.


Remko: Those summoned grizzly bears are why the goblins leave Morcant alone! Not to mention why the bandits trade with her, rather than attack.


Destri Melarg: Thank you Destri. Sorry about your armor. It was meant to end this way from the very beginning. Your dwemer mace is still quite whole though, and we will be seeing more of it in the future.

I liked Ray Stevenson in the second Punisher movie. I think he was perfect as Frank Castle. Unfortunately the movie itself stunk, but I do not blame him for that. Check out Outpost. It is a neat little military-horror movie that he stars in.

You noticed the weapons and armor of Vilverin. Like the events of Witch of Lake Trasimene, that chapter too was written with this in mind. If Teresa had not gone there, then she would have never gotten those weapons and armor, and because of that Jensine would not have been able to pick up your namesake's mace and use it on first the scamp attacking Teresa, and later the clannfear. Not to mention the gear that Simplicia and the others used. So here we see the full reason for Raven leading Teresa there in the first place.


Next: The epilogue to our tale, where Teresa faces down the monsters of her past.

* * *

Chapter 11h - The Knight of Swords

Teresa fell to her knees, unable to stop the tears spilling from her eyes. "No!" she sobbed into her hands. "Not him too! Not Martin!"

"What are you talking about?" Simplicia put an arm around Teresa. Blinking through the tears, the wood elf looked up to see a mix of puzzlement and concern upon the old woman's features.

"Didn't you hear?" Teresa murmured. "He's dead. The Emperor's dead."

"What are you talking about?" the beggar wondered aloud, brow furrowing in consternation. "I don't hear anything. And what's this about the Emperor? What makes you say he's dead?"

"I… I heard his voice," Teresa stammered. "He talked to me. You didn't hear him?"

"No," Simplicia said sternly. "And you'd better not go telling people you're hearing voices either. Or they'll think you're crazy."

Both women looked up at the sound of a bell ringing, then another, and another. Climbing to her feet once more, Teresa made her way to the windows, Simplicia hovering beside her. The street was littered with bodies, some of people, some of Daedra. There was no sign of the Oblivion Gate however, nor of anything moving.

The sound of hooves came to the Bosmer's ears, followed by a distant voice. Turning their heads in the direction it was coming from, Teresa and Simplicia found that it was a Khajiit on a black horse. He rode down the street as fast as he could without his horse tripping over the bodies. After a moment Teresa recognized the rider as being Hassiri of the Black Horse Courier. She had seen him handing out copies of the news sheet plenty of times in the past. Simplicia had taught her to read by using them in fact.

"It's over!" the Khajiit cried, waving his hand in the air in triumph. "It's over! The Oblivion Gates are closed! Emperor Martin has summoned Akatosh and banished Mehrunes Dagon!"

The nightmare was over, Teresa thought, finally over. She could see other survivors coming out into the street now. Some were shouting the news as well, and others cheering, but most looked as dazed and tired as she felt. Teresa closed her eyes and thanked every god and goddess she knew to still be alive.

The grizzly bear vanished in a whirl of purple energy then, making Teresa start in surprise. Gazing through the empty space where it had stood moments before, her eyes set upon Volsinius. With everything else, she had forgotten about him. He still lay where he fell, face down in front of the dremora who had stabbed him.

"I think the bugger finally met his match," Simplicia said as she followed Teresa's gaze. "He looks done for."

No! Teresa thought with a sinking feeling in her chest. Not again, not like Gelephor, or the Redguard, or Emperor Uriel. All dead right in front of her eyes, with her unable to do a thing to stop it.

She forced her aching body to stagger across the floor to where the legionary was sprawled in a widening pool of blood. Her scorched limbs screamed in protest at every motion. Yet cross the space to the legionary she did, and with Simplicia's help she rolled him over onto his back.

Both of his eyes were closed, and Teresa was not sure if he was alive or dead. It was only then that she saw that what she had hoped was only soot on the left side of his head was actually a grisly mass of burned flesh. How could he have even stayed on his feet like that? Teresa wondered in amazement, let alone fight?

But the more immediate source of trouble was his stomach. A rent in his armor there was oozing the blood she saw pooling on the floor. With Simplicia's help she frantically tore off his battered cuirass and cut away the thick, padded linen shirt he wore beneath it. His chest rose and fell, showing that he yet lived. Yet his skin beneath was revealed to be a roadmap of black and purple bruises. A round hole was driven into his belly, and it was there that Teresa pressed the remnants of his tunic in an effort to stop the blood welling up from it.

Yet the blood continued to come, flowing steadily around the cloth. It had been the same with Jensine, Teresa remembered. It had only been healing potions that had stopped her head from bleeding. But they had used the last of their potions saving her...

Teresa saw her backpack laying against the side wall of the bedroom. All of the alchemical ingredients she had been gathering for the last week were still in there, she remembered.

"Try your best to hold the bleeding," Teresa told Simplicia, and against the wishes of her body, she rose to her feet and forced herself to walk to her pack. She unceremoniously dumped its contents on the floor and frantically dug through the scattered items until she found her mortar and pestle. Then tearing open a smaller bag that she used to store her ingredients, she yanked out a sprig of lavender and a cap of fly amanita and began grinding them down.

"Are you sure Teresa?" Simplicia asked, looking down at the rent body of the legionary. "You remember who this is don't you?"

Teresa looked up from her mortar and pestle. She remembered that smack across her face as child. The feeling of cold, unyielding steel as it crashed against her jaw. The horrible crack as her tooth broke loose, and the warm, salty taste of blood in her mouth. It was all indelibly burned into her mind, as was how Volsinius had forced her to say "Thank you," as if he were doing her a favor by knocking her teeth out. It had been that or prison though. So Teresa had said it. She had been eight years old, and she had seen it in her head every time she set her eyes on a legionary since.

"I remember," Teresa said, "but I can't just let him die. Not like this."

She lowered her head to her mortar and pestle and concentrated on her work. Using every last effort of will, she created a fine mash of the plants. Then she added a small amount of water from her traveling flask and mixed it all together into a pink solution. Rising and dragging herself across the floor while taking care to spill none of the potion, she knelt beside the legionary's body once more.

Simplicia lifted the soldier's head while Teresa held the mortar up to his mouth. She let the pink fluid gently flow between his lips until it was gone. Then the two of them stared at his body, waiting for some sign that it had worked. A moment later they were rewarded when his bleeding stopped and he coughed up spittle in both their faces.

"Now that is gratitude!" Simplicia laughed. Teresa could not contain a faint smile herself as she tried to wipe away his bloody spit. When she realized that she was only smearing more blood on her face from her gloves she gave up.

"What's so damn funny?" Volsinius growled, opening his right eye and looking from one woman to the other. He tried to lift his body for a moment, but collapsed in a heap as his face contorted in agony. "Can't a man get a moment's peace?"

Teresa looked down at Volsinius' broken form and compared him to the monster of her childhood memories. Somehow, she could not imagine the two were the same, not anymore. Before her lay a man, one filled with flaws and ugliness, but a man nonetheless, and one that had saved her life more than once with no thought to what it had cost him.

She did not know what he was, but he was no monster. Of that she was certain, just as she knew he would no longer haunt her memories.