I would love to read more about Morcant. In fact- I'd love to read anything you can sling at us

haute ecole rider: Morcant in Anvil it is then. I will put that on the To Do list.

I love the Ayleid sites best of all in Oblivion, for exactly the reasons you mentioned. They are just awesome to behold, and have the creepiness factor ramped way up. It is one of the reasons I like doing this Ayleid arc with Teresa.

Morcant will be hanging on to her cottage though. While she may visit Anvil, Lake Trasimene is still her home. Besides, she could not leave Tsume there all by himself forever.


hazmick: Yes, Teresa is indeed embracing her spirituality. As someone who really has no anchor in life, and spent most of it being treated with contempt, her spirit-guide, and her relationship with Nirn itself, provide with some much needed grounding and support.

The vision of Sedor was once a common thing irl, typically performed between the local king and high priestess (although there were many variations, depending on where you were). Generally known as the Sacred Marriage, it was cemented the bond between the mundane world and the spirit world, ensuring the continuing health and fertility of each. It is still done symbolically in most neo-pagan rituals today.


Acadian: Would I foreshadow things about the Ayleids, and Teresa's interest in them?

One of the things I really enjoy about Teresa is what you noted about her ability to bring out the best in people. Really, starting with Simplicia when she was just an infant. I never really thought about it, but she is like Emperor Uriel that way. Only not as direct and overt about it as he was.


Destri Melarg: Flesh-sculptures? Ewwwww! Although to play devil's advocate, North Korean soldiers are all told that Americans not only torture and kill everyone they take prisoner, but also drink their blood as well (all of us being vampires after all). Wartime propaganda is always overblown, so a grain of salt is wise. Not to mention that many Ayleid city states allied with Alessia. So either they really were not all that bad, or she did not mind humans being not only enslaved but tortured and killed for entertainment so long as her allies were doing it.

Not that I am trying to portray the Ayleids as being nice. Morcant described it all when we first met her. They were the most preeminent necromancers to ever walk Nirn, and in the end the planet itself wanted them dead. Still, it took them time to turn their backs on their original gods and fall into darkness, as this was meant to show.

Would I foreshadow things like Teresa losing someone important to her?


treydog: Thank you Three Dog. I always do strive to make the setting come to life.


Remko: More slinging right now!


Next: Teresa and Morcant have gone their separate ways. Now Teresa is on her way back to the Imperial City, but she has a few stops to make along the way.

* * *

Chapter 17.1 - Learning The Hard Way

28th - 30th Sun's Height, 3E433

Teresa rose from the waves of Lake Hysiae with strung bow in hand. A mudcrab scuttled across the sandy beach, pincers reaching out greedily for her flesh. The wood elf stepped back, set an arrow to her bow, and skewered the creature. Withdrawing the arrow from the abdomen of the crustacean, the forester inspected its wooden shaft. Not finding any warps, she wiped the steel head clean and tucked it back into her arrow bag.

Lifting the remains of the crab by the legs, she carried it further ashore before depositing it in the grass. That would make for a good lunch, Teresa thought, but first things first. Nagastani waited for her.

The ruins of the ancient city loomed before her. Graceful white stones rose high into the sky, forming what had once been a great circular structure. Yet now the roof was long gone, and large ovals set within the walls gaped wide in the breeze coming off the lake. Shattered buildings flanked the once mighty edifice, nothing more than a partial arch here, part of a wall there, or a few blocks of stone laying scattered across the grass.

Thanks to the spirit of the lake, Teresa knew that this had once been a modest Ayleid city-state. Yet now that she looked upon it with her flesh and blood eyes, she found it hard to believe these few tumbled down stones could have once been a settlement bustling with life. Where were the bright stained glass windows filling the palace with color? Or the brilliant bronze-shaded tiles covering every roof, throwing back the light of the sun in a fiery display? Where were the once great boulevards and their crowds of elves and beasts? Where were the high walls ringing the city, or the stone quays reaching out into the blue waters of Hysiae?

All gone, the forester thought to herself, the victim of time and elements. Until she had seen it happen to Sedor, she never would have imagined how devastating ordinary wind, rain, and plants could be. But now she could not escape the truth that no matter what mortals constructed, it would all be taken back by Nirn one day. The thought warmed her heart. It was good to know that the world would always go on, healthy and whole, regardless of what mortals did to it.

Circling around the ruins, she found a row of steps leading up to the entrance of the central building. The mighty bronze doors that had once sealed off the palace had long since vanished, and looming within the walls of the stone edifice was a once mighty statue. It showed an armored mer from waist up, holding a sword high overhead in both hands. Yet the blade of the sword had snapped eons ago, along with the wings of his helmet, and neither were anywhere to be seen. Coated in moss, the elf's body was now green as the grass that grew through the stones under the archer's feet.

Teresa's heart quickened its pace as she heard a creaking from within the structure. It sounded like leather, and was accompanied by a slight whooshing noise, like that of a sail catching the wind. Drawing forth an arrow and poisoning it from the jar of nightshade at her waist, Teresa nocked her bow and slinked forward. Coming to the edge of the palace entrance, she peered within, and saw the source of the noise.

It looked like a scamp, with rough brown skin, two arms, two legs, and a misshapen head. This creature was much smaller however, perhaps only half the size of the Daedra. Most different of all, it hovered in the air on a pair of leathery wings that flapped in a slow, steady pace. Even though they were large, Teresa wondered at how such wings could keep a creature of its size and obvious weight airborne. It must have been magic, she imagined.

An imp, the wood elf thought. She had heard plenty of stories of them from bard's tales. It was said that in spite of their appearance, they were not Daedra. Yet they hardly seemed like animals of good green Nirn either. She had heard some say they were the result of magical experiments upon goblins. Others claimed that they were once mortals cursed by the gods, as the Orisimer had become orcs, or the Chimer the dark elves.

Those thoughts slipped away from Teresa's mind as the red eyes of the monster fixed upon her. It stretched out a hand, and she saw fire grow from its fingers. She needed no further prompting to draw her bowstring to her cheek and loose. The imp crashed to the ground with a screech even as its own bolt of fire streaked from its hand. The forester had been ready however, and easily stepped aside while the slower-moving fire rushed by.

The wood elf readied another arrow as she approached the creature. It flopped around on a staircase that wound downward around the statue. Yet the imp seemed unable to rise into the air again, or even track her own movements with its eyes. She drew her bowstring to her cheek to finish the creature, but it fell still before she could loose.

Stepping closer, she nudged the monster with the toe of her boot, ready to leap back in case it was only playing dead. Yet the creature did not stir, and its crimson eyes stared glassily into the blue sky above. Teresa put the arrow back into her bag and drew forth a knife. She knew that she could brew new poisons from its bile. Some even said you could use it to create magical fire.

She stopped herself however. This was not the time, she realized. There were probably more nearby. It would be foolish of her to start cutting the imp up while another might be sneaking up on her. She could always do it when she was finished exploring the ruin, she decided. Besides, a little imp gall was nothing compared to what she hoped waited in the darkness below…

So drawing forth her arrow once more, Teresa followed the stair down to an open double door. Venturing within, she pulled her Night Eye goggles down over her eyes and slowly made her way through the depths of the palace. She found more imps within upper passages. Some were alone, others in small groups. She picked them off one by one, firing unseen from the darkness. She did not even need the nightshade at her hip, as most died instantly. The others only needed a second arrow to finish their lives. A welcome change from enemies such as the Daedra who had attacked the Imperial City, or the Ebon Moon and their minions.

Plunging into the sealed-off lower levels of the palace, Teresa found blade traps like those she had seen in Vilverin, as well as something new, poison gas. This she found welling up from spouts in the floor of several chambers. Cages of metal shaped like delicate flowing vines were suspended from chains above nozzles. It took the forester only a moment to realize what they were for, and she winced at the thought of what it must have been like for those consigned to the terrible fate of dying slowly in one of those cages.

Skirting the traps, she continued on, only to discover another old enemy. Zombies. She smelled the sickly-sweet reek of their withered flesh long before she saw them. With moldy skin, rotted clothing, and bits of armor rusting off of them, it was obvious they had been there for a long time. These were not so easily dispatched as the imps. Yet just as at Vilverin, she had little trouble staying out of the reach of the lumbering monsters while she filled them with arrows. She destroyed each in turn, until finally she reached the heart of the ruin.

There, in the royal storerooms, she found the treasure she had hoped for. An Ancestor Statue, glowing from the energy within the purple crystal of its central spine. Grabbing one of the four metal spines that surrounded the crystal, Teresa felt a chill seep from it, piercing even her leather gloves. She almost dropped the statue in surprise, yet in a moment the feeling passed, leaving the wood elf to wonder if she had only imagined it.

Teresa found that the sun had slipped far to the west by the time she rose from the depths of the once great city. The Ancestor was securely tucked away into her pack, along with numerous plundered welkynd stones, and several vials of imp bile. Washing her hands in the lake, she set about cooking her mudcrab with her Flare spell and ate dinner.

It was time to get back to the Imperial City, she thought, imagining Simplicia's face when she showed her the money she would make from just the Ancestor alone. One hundred gold septims! She had never even seen so much money in her life, and this was only the beginning. There were eight more statues to go…

This was a very tightly wrapped chapter. Teresa approached, pondered, conquered, explored, looted and ate lunch. Lots for one episode yet, at no moment did I feel rushed. Everything flowed with perfect pacing. I believe this is due to your choices about what to include and what not to. Well done!

I can feel Teresa's fascination with the Ayleids, their culture and cities.

I loved your insight regarding imps and the possibilities involving their heritage. Of course the best part is. . . IMP CHIPS!!!

Uh oh. It seems perhaps another meeting with the creepy source of coinage, Umbaccano may be in the offing. Teresa's intent to use the gold to get a place for Simplicia warms my heart.

I'm pleased that you intend, at your own pace of course, to let us come along with Morcant to Anvil. I look forward to it.

Nit? I honestly don't know what is correct here, so let me simply share with you that I stumbled over it. In thinking about it, I believe shifting the hyphen's location would let it sing to me: 'the still sealed-off lower levels of the palace. This is an area of grammar where I am simply going by 'gut', so feel free to disregard.

Teresa’s thoughts on Nirn taking everything back into herself were quite pleasing. Of course, the disappearance of the bronze and other metals- and even some of the stones- may have an additional explanation. The Coliseum in our version of reality was used as a de facto quarry for many years. Still, the world has many ways of healing the “blemishes” mortals inflict upon her….

Equally interesting were her musings on the origins of imps- and how those stocky bodies are held aloft by their relatively puny wings.



Teresa’s speculation about the purpose of those cages matches my own. But maybe we are both wrong and those fun-loving Ayleids just used the chambers to find an altered state of consciousness.

I wonder if Simplicia will react to the money as Teresa expects... or if she will be more concerned regarding the source?

Nits:

I also tripped on the phrase the Acadi-editor noted. And I endorse his suggested fix. Another option would be to delete "off" and render it as "still-sealed lower levels...."


Those apostrophes are sneaking in again. It may be time to borrow Morcant’s friendly wolf to sniff them out and eat them. And when he shows up, Teresa can say- “So, Tsume.”



"imaging" is acceptable there, I think... but I believe you meant to type "imagining" and that voracious wolf gulped up the second "in".

what a wonderful foray into another Ayleid ruin!

Julian doesn't like them - they give her the heebie-jeebies (of course, the Julian that is speaking to me has had a few of them under her belt - starting with Miscarcand).

The thought of the world going on and reclaiming what was once taken is profound - and quite true.

I agree with Acadian's nit. I also have another one: Imaging is quite a modern term and sticks out to me in this wonderful passage. I would imagine that imagining, or perhaps picturing would be more effective and more TES-relevant.

Onward, our dear friend! Only eight more to go!

Despite the voice of Eric Cartman ringing in my ears: “Hippies!!”, I can still appreciate a perfectly structured paragraph. Since the others already commented on it, allow me to simply echo everything they said.

In addition to the speculation regarding the origin of imps, your description of the smell of a zombie was great! I always thought that the smell would be the first indicator of their presence.

And trey raises an interesting point. How will Simplicia react to Teresa’s sizable purse? I remember that she is barely comfortable letting Teresa stake her to a meal, let alone a house.

I have to be frank, her duality when it comes to killing animals still jars me. She won't kill wolves/deers/whatever and you claim she's a vegetarian but on the other hand she has no problem killing and eating mudcrabs and fish. Are those lesser beings? What is her justification?

Nitpicking apart, I like the tone you set. No matter what mortals would make, Nirn would take it back eventually.... very nice

Acadian: I had forgotten all about Imp Chips! That was a challenging segment to write, as it was basically something extra tacked onto the beginning one of the old chapters (which starts this segment). There was just no way I could get around Teresa visiting Nagastani, given that the last time she was out this way she made a note to herself to explore south of the Blue Road. And well, that is the big thing there. Besides, it also keeps her quest to find the Ancestors ongoing.


treydog: Good thought about the Colosseum, the very statue (colossus) outside of it that gave it its name was cannibalized!

You raise a good question about how Simplicia will react to Teresa's coming wealth. But then again, she will not know until Teresa tells her...


haute ecole rider: I saw a rather interesting program called Life After People, that described how long it would take for the things we made to fall apart. I was surprised at how quickly many things crumble and vanish. Like stone buildings, and concrete highways. They used the abandoned Russian cities around Chernobyl for some of the basis, and it was stunning to see how dilapidated they have become in just a few decades of abandonment.


Destri Melarg: You gave me a good laugh with Cartman. Maybe I will have Vols say: "You will respect my authoritae!" in one of the upcoming chapters!

The zombie smell was a bit of an afterthought I added in during one of my later drafts. Just as you said, I was thinking you ought to be able to smell them from a way off.


Remko: I would say you hit the nail right on the head with why Teresa has no qualms about eating crabs and fish. Welcome to inconstant beliefs. Deer and bunnies are cute and cuddly. Crabs are definitely not! To go into a little more depth, Teresa feels empathy with animals such as mammals. She can imagine how they feel. I tried to show that in the previous chapter, when she felt bad for the rabbits that Tsume ate. But on the other hand, she feels no empathy with crabs or fish. She just cannot identify with them.


Next: Teresa cleaned out Nagastani in the previous segment, now she continues west to the shores of Lake Rumare, and another ruin.


* * *

Chapter 17.2 - Learning The Hard Way

Teresa slowly waded through the knee-deep water within the bowels of Castle Magia, trying as best she could not to make any splashes or waves. Thanks to her goggles the world around her was reduced to a dull grey, with only a few muted colors standing out. Yet without the Night Eye power the headgear conferred, she would not have been able to see a thing in the inky darkness through which she trod.

The goggles revealed for a corridor that was cut from large, square blocks of stone, turning to end in a massive set of double-doors. Built to withstand a siege, they were bound in iron and made of wood enchanted to resist fire, frost, and even aging.

She knew because before venturing within, she had asked the spirits of the land. They had shown her the craftsmen and guild mages laboring over the construction of the fortress. It must have been well over a thousand years ago. She imagined sometime before the coming of Reman and the Second Empire, but after the fall of the Ayleids. Unfortunately spirits did not keep calendars, so there was no way for her to be certain just when.

She had seen it garrisoned for what must have been centuries, if not longer, before finally the Imperials just packed up one day and left. The spirits did not know why, nor did they care. They only knew that once the iron-clad men were gone, they were free to reclaim the wrought stone of the castle for their own. Which they had slowly and inexorably done for millennia.

She knew that she should have ignored the abandoned fortress and continued across the lake to the City Isle. But after what the spirits had shown her, how could she resist venturing within the remains of the castle to investigate? There was no telling what treasures might lurk within, and every one put her one step closer to making Simplicia's dream come true.

The Imperial Legion may have abandoned the fortress, Teresa thought, but it had not remained empty. There always seemed to be bandits or goblins in places like this now. She only wished that the land spirits could show her more about the recent past. Yet they seemed to notice changes only slowly. Teresa was not surprised. They were beings that must measure time by the thousands of years, if they counted it at all. What was a few months or even years to them? Not even the blink of an eye.

So while her spiritual communion could tell the forester of the distant past, it could not reveal to her the present. That she had to discover for herself. She had found the current inhabitants of the ruin dead, yet that had only made them more dangerous. Looking down at the shattered human bones under the water at her feet, she cautiously poked the remains with the toe of her boot to make sure they no longer moved of their own accord.

She had only faced skeletons once before, at Vilverin, and not many of them even then. Seeing that first skeleton in the upper halls of the castle had really done wonders for her heart, Teresa thought. She was not sure why they rattled her so. The zombies did not bother her, except for their smell of course. Perhaps it was the bare skulls of the skeletons, she mused. They seemed to grin back at her in the darkness, as if they knew some secret she did not. Perhaps the knowledge of what she would look like once the flesh had been picked clean from her own bones…

Thankfully the skeleton and its other undead brethren did not seem to be aware of things very far from them. They no longer had eyes, so they must not be able to see her, she reasoned, likewise with their other faculties. Just how they did sense things she had no idea.

The skeleton had certainly noticed her after she had put an arrow through its breastbone! Teresa thought as she stared down at the bones strewn about her feet. Thankfully she had been able to kill it with two more arrows before it could reach her. Nobody moved very fast in knee-deep water after all. She had been forced to backpedal to escape from the other skeletons she had encountered in the drier regions of the castle overhead, so she was glad for the flooding.

Once more she silently thanked Aelwin for his gift of the Jewel of the Rumare, thinking of the turquoise ring hidden under the leather gauntlet on her left hand. Without its protective magic her bow would have been useless after swimming through the corridors that had been completely flooded by the nearby lake. Not to mention the damage the water would have done to her leather armor. Instead her bow, arrows, and armor were completely dry and sound, even the parts still submerged, as was the rest of her.

Teresa gently pushed at the door and found it swinging open with a creaking of wood and metal. Well, at least it was not locked, the forester thought. She must have picked more locks in this castle than Methredhel usually did in a week! She had never imagined that growing up on the streets would provide her with such valuable skills, yet the more time she spent in old ruins like this, the more she saw how useful being able to sneak and pick locks were for someone in her new line of work.

Was this what the Emperor had seen for her, when they had met that fateful Second Seed night? Even months later, she could still hear his words just as clearly as if he had only spoken them a moment ago: "You have no idea what you can do," the Emperor had said to her, "but I do."

The thought of the great old man made her eyes moisten, and a hard lump form in her throat. The wood elf shook her head to clear his memory from her mind. This was no time to be letting her mind wander, she knew. She had to concentrate on the ruin, or she might find herself walking into a trap.

Continuing on, she found another corridor spreading out before her, branching into side passages to the right and left after a short distance. Regularly spaced alongside the walls of each corridor were rectangular blocks that rose from the floor and supported ornately carved stone coffins. Cobwebs drooped from the ceiling, and there was not a single light or sound emanating from the area.

Great, Teresa thought, I found the tomb. The perfect place to be in a ruin already filled with undead.

She moved slowly and carefully down the corridor and paused at the intersection to peer around the corners. The side passages held naught but more coffins, and were silent in either direction. Teresa continued forward alongside the caskets, hoping that their residents would remain in their stony homes.

She came across a longbow floating in the water, its bowstring long since snapped. It did not look as old as the rest of the ruin, but the stave was still badly warped from the moisture. Moments later the forester came upon the bones of an arm and hand lying on the floor further along the hallway. She wondered if they had belonged to the bow's former owner as she continued down the corridor.

Screenshot

There is just something about that passage that I like…



Pun alert!

The memory of the Emperor is a good moment, though I think he saw much more for Teresa than she yet realizes.

There is a good bit of musing on her own mortality here, which is a good thing, in that it can keep an adventurer alive. And the floating bow, with its disembodied arm seems almost a bit of foreshadowing…



My gut says “trod,” but maybe it’s just growling because I took a walk instead of eating. CF: The phrase from the old hymn- "where bright angel feet have trod."

Very rich with spooky atmosphere and Teresa's observations on time, decay and the undead.

I liked her observation that knee to waist deep water certainly slows charging enemies.

Teresa, I'm not buyin' that you go into these places only for the gold. There are easier and safer ways to fill your coinpurse, young alchemist. C'mon - you know you get a thrill from the unknown and the danger! Not to mention the curiosity that Morcant already pointed out to you. And even a bit of satisfaction from putting arrows to foes. Seriously though, her admirable desire to improve Simplicia's lot is heartwarming.

Just be careful, and keep those goggles on!

What a wonderful description of Castle Magia! As I recall, it is one of the ruins I've never explored. Why? I don't know. As much as I hate Ayleid ruins, I think I've explored more of those than I have of the forts. To me the Ayleid ones are beautiful in a horrifying way, while the forts are more just dingy.

Still, reading this makes me want to fire up my Dunmer character (my jill-of-all-trades one) and explore the place.

I've been ninja'd by Treydog in picking out my favorite moments in this chapter, so I'm just going to endorse his wise comments.

I don’t think I have ever expressed my admiration for the gadgetry that you have given Teresa. I know the goggles are a mod, but they are incredibly useful. The first thing that I do when one of my characters gains access to the Arcane University is enchant a ring or a necklace with night eye. Those goggles accomplish the same effect while also leaving room for precious rings and amulets. As to rings; the ingenious Jewel of the Rumare in the TF is an item that proves essential every time it is mentioned. Who wouldn’t want a ring that could keep you and everything you own dry even when submerged, while also providing the ability to breathe underwater.


It is always nice to see limitations imposed on magic. Here you draw a clear separation between Teresa’s spirit communion and her dream flights. I find it interesting that she can use her spirit communion to view the past, and her spirit guide to see the present (as she did at the Battle of Bruma). I am sure that, as we continue with her story, we will find out why she can do the one at will, but not the other.

A small nit:

Simply a matter of style, but having already established the goggles in the previous paragraph, ‘for her’ in this sentence is unnecessary.

I've missed out on commenting for the past two chapters but I'm here now Both of these chapters were brilliant and the points I would have made have been picked up by my fellow readers Teresa's thoughts on the skeletons were great, awesome writes!

treydog: I suspect the Emperor saw much more than Teresa yet realizes too! That little bit with her thinking of him was something I put in during one of my new edits to this old chapter. I realized it had been a long time since we saw Teresa thinking about him, so I wanted to keep him still there in reader's minds (and show Teresa has not forgotten him).


Acadian: You gave me more than a faint smile when I read what you said about Teresa not doing it for just the gold! Perhaps someday Teresa will acknowledge that, but not today.


haute ecole rider: The forts, with their low ceilings and dark textures, seem really drab and cramped to me. Where the Ayleid ruins have the light colored walls, the lofty, vaulted ceilings, lots of space, and little artistic touches everywhere. That is why I prefer the latter.


Destri Melarg: I am rather proud of Teresa's gadgets, in that none of them are the 'standard' things you would expect, such a magic weapons. Rather they simply let her see in the dark and function underwater. (I do not really count the armor she had, because it was so brief, and it was really meant to only last that one fight in the IC). Simple things really, but she uses them to the most of her advantage.

I am trying to keep the spirituality from becoming too much of an edge. If Teresa could see everyone and everything inside a ruin before she set foot in it that would be too overpowering of an advantage. Really the only reason I incorporated her spiritual communions were so that she could find out the names of places she explores. Although I am glad I can use them to add a bit of history and 'texture' by showing how the places used to look before they fell apart. Likewise with her vision of Bruma, that has only happened once, and is not likely to ever do so again, as I am keenly aware of how that could become overdone. Only if something really important were happening that she was somehow wrapped up in/connected to. Not to mention that her seeing it would have to advance the plot somehow, or give me a better way to portray events.


hazmick: Thanks haz. I wanted to have something to show that this is scary business, so back in Vilverin I decided to have skeletons really frighten Teresa. Not because of anything to do with how they fight, or how dangerous they are. Just because of how they look. They are the stuff of her nightmares.


Next: In the previous episode Teresa began exploring the ruins of Castle Magia. Now she finds that she has gotten in over her head...


* * *

Chapter 17.3 - Learning The Hard Way

A dim light spilled into the hall from around a corner at its far end, and Teresa drew an arrow from her quiver and set it to the nock. A moment later the author of that light floated into sight, and Teresa felt her heart double its pace within her breast.

It was a glowing, humanoid form, missing its body from the waist down. A haze of what seemed to be mist clung to it like a grim halo. Its face was smooth and nearly featureless, yet it did have eyes and a mouth, or at least darker regions where they would be. Its gaze fixed directly upon Teresa. Then its mouth opened in what might have been a warning, or a battlecry, yet no sound came forth.

Screenshot

It was a ghost, she thought, what else could it be? Raising her bow and drawing back the arrow halfway to her chest, she steeled herself to take her time and focus on the center of its form while she let half the air ease from her lungs. Only then did she pull the string all the way back to her cheek and loose. Not taking her eyes from the monster, she immediately reached for another arrow.

Screenshot

Teresa's heart sank when she saw the steel head of her arrow pass harmlessly through the body of the ghost and emerge from the other side. A second later it struck the stone wall at the end of the corridor and snapped in two. The ghost itself did not seem to notice, but it did begin to float down the corridor toward her, arms reaching out greedily for her flesh.

Teresa took a step back and fired. Again it had no effect as it passed through the ghost, which was drawing closer and closer with every breath. What in Nirn was she supposed to do against that! she thought in growing horror, her arrows were useless!

The ghost drew its arms back for a moment, and a brighter point of light formed between its fingers. Then it threw both hands forward as if pushing something, and that bright spot of light came rushing out. Teresa reflexively ducked down into the water as the ball of energy shot past above, and she felt a chill pass over her as it did so.

She rose from the water, and knew that the moisture she felt on her brow and in her palms was not from the waves, but from her own sweat. She had to do something, she thought, or she would not live to see the light of another day.

Then she remembered her Flare spell. The image of it sprang immediately into her mind, and she gathered her magicka within her. She threw one hand out in front of her, willing the energy to pour from her fingers and erupt into a small ball of flame. A moment later the magical energy flew down the corridor and sank directly into the glowing form of the specter.

Screenshot

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Its spectral body seemed to dissolve around the flame, as if turning to steam. But the fist-sized ball of fire did not consume the entire ghost, only a small portion of it. Still, the monster reared back for a moment and Teresa saw its mouth open wide in what she imagined was pain. Then it threw both hands forward again and another of those balls of light came shooting down the hallway.

Teresa leaped aside as the energy came streaking at her. The water flowed around her legs as if it was not there, and once again she was thankful for the Jewel of the Rumare and it wondrous abilities, such as preventing water from impeding her movements. She breathed a sigh of relief as the sparkling white ball flew past her with a whooshing sound, and realized it was not made of light, but frost. For even though it had missed her by inches, she still felt the cold of winter sweep through the side of her body

Teresa continued to back down the hallway in the direction from which she had come. Spellcasting was not her strongest suit, she knew, it was only something she used when she did not have her bow. A real battlemage would probably make short work of a ghost like this. But she was not a real mage, let alone a battlemage. She could feel that much of the magicka within her had already drained away from just that one Flare. Would she have enough to kill it?

Her heel caught on something even as she focused another ball of fire upon the ghost, and she felt herself falling backward. Her fire bolt went flying into wall beside her as her arms reflexively shot out to try to keep her balance. The next thing Teresa knew her back was hitting the water, and a moment later the cold liquid flowed around her face.

Holding her breath out of reflex, she tried to sit up in the water and pull herself backward at the same time. Her head shot up above the waves in time to see a glowing hand with inhumanly long and slender fingers reaching down for her.

She threw up her left arm - still holding her longbow - to defend herself. The spectral claws of the ghost passed through the yew stave of her bow as if it was not there. Then the ghost's fingers were tearing into her arm like icy razors. She could not contain the scream that ripped from her lips as the bow fell from her numb fingers. It was so cold, it felt as if her very bones had frozen through.

She fell back into the water again, and was barely able to close her mouth before it washed across her face. She could see the bright form of the ghost reaching down once more and rolled aside. Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of its claws flowing through the stones of the floor where she had been moments before.

That is when she remembered that thanks to her ring, she could breathe water as well as move freely within it. Taking a deep breath, her lungs filled with welcome air rather than liquid. Raising her good arm above the waves, she focused on her spell and once more sent a ball of fire into the body of the ghost.

It reeled away with another silent cry, giving Teresa time to rise to a squatting position. Now she saw what she had tripped on. It was the same skeletal arm that she had passed by before seeing the ghost. By the Nine that was stupid of her! she screamed inwardly, to be nearly killed over such a thing!

The ghost was now coming back, and Teresa tried to muster up another Flare. Yet the magicka was not there when she reached for it, and she was forced to hastily draw her arm back as the ghost reached out greedily for her flesh.

Screenshot

She scrambled to her feet and ran down the hall the way she had come, water splashing loudly with every step. Her left arm ached with cold, and hung limply at her side. When she glanced down at it she was surprised to see that the leather of her sleeve was unblemished.

Nothing physical seemed to be able to stop or harm the ghost, she thought. Well, no surprise there, it was a ghost after all. She needed time to regain her magicka, she knew, if it caught up to her before then she was dead. She knew that she had welkynd stones from Nagastani in her pack. Teresa knew that she could use one to recharge her energy. Yet she would have to take off her pack and go rummaging around within it to find one. What she really needed was something closer at hand, she thought, like a potion in one of her belt pouches... With that thought the memory of the potions she had discovered in the upper chambers came to her in a flash. Some of them had looked like sorcery draughts…

Glancing back down the corridor, she saw the ghost hurl another of those balls of frost. With a little more space between it and her, she had little difficulty in stepping out of its path. Then she turned once more and darted through the doors which she had entered through just minutes before. This time she was careful not to trip on the dead skeleton in the corridor beyond, and raced around the corner and down the hall. She knew the ghost was still after her, but at least the door and stone walls would probably block its frost bolts.

Stopping and turning once more to face down the hall, Teresa dug through her belt pouches with her good hand. She came upon one of her self-made healing potions and quickly drew it forth. Pulling out its cork with her teeth, she gulped its contents as quickly as she could and dropped the empty vial into the water.

Instantly her left arm warmed, and suddenly she could move the fingers of that hand again. It still ached with cold, but at least it was not the bone-freezing sensation that made her want to scream anymore. She was never so thankful that she had learned the art of alchemy as she was in that moment, and hastily dug for more potions.

She drew forth another bottle a moment later. It had a different shape than her own, so she knew it was one she had found in the ruin. Peering closely at its side, she saw the spiral symbol of magicka engraved upon its surface. Yes! she thought with exultation. She pulled forth its stopper with shaking fingers and emptied the liquid into her mouth.

She instantly felt energy rise up within her like a bubbling pot. The ghost came around the corner ahead of her, and she focused her mind on her Flare. Pointing her hand at the monster, she flung a bolt of fire down the corridor and directly into it. The creature recoiled again, then once more continued forward. It threw a ball of frost at her in return, and again Teresa dodged aside with ease.

It was a good thing those frost bolts were not as fast as arrows, she thought. Otherwise there would be no getting out of their way. She was just lucky that the ghost did not dodge her own shots, or she would never stand a chance. She thanked the Nine that the undead had no sense of self-preservation, at least not these ones.

She traded more balls of destructive magic with the ghost until finally it threw its arms up in the air and seemed to melt. The last she saw of it was its mouth open in a wide rictus of what looked like pain. Then its bright form winked out completely, and all that remained was a faintly glowing goop that floated on the surface of the water.

Screenshot

Ah, yes, Teresa's first encounter with a ghost. I remember how heart-pounding it was the first time, and I still find it so this time. It has withstood the test of time (and rewriting of the story before it) very well, which I believe is testament to your excellent writing skillz.

Loved it the second time around!

Oooh! This was exciting!

I loved how you presented Teresa's dawning realization that her simple bow and arrows did not affect the ghost. One of those 'Ahah!' moments.

Just a wonderfully written hostile encounter. Slow, my heart.

This is combat writing at its finest- Teresa is physically and even magically outmatched- but she uses her brains and her potions to prevail. Ghosts (along with Wisps) are one of those creatures which player characters often just have to run from... By focusing so intently on this life-and-death struggle, you give a real sense of urgency to the encounter. Wonderfully frightening.

This was just as good the second time around! Teresa’s wits earn her a victory where her weapons fail.

I LOVE the irony of this sentence!

A nit:



Coming in such close proximity to each other, the repetition of ‘That is when’ is a bit jarring.

haute ecole rider: Thank you h.e.r. Ghosts are one of the ways the game tells you that you have to step up in the arms race. When you come upon one and you have yet to get a magic or silver weapon, you suddenly realize "uh oh, I need to get some bigger guns!"


Acadian: Thank you Acadian. A desperate battle is what I was going for.


treydog: Thank you three dog. I really wanted to show that Teresa was in over her head. I am glad it came though.


Destri Melarg: I love that wry observation of Teresa's too! But some undead do have a sense of self-preservation. The high end skeletons will block your attacks, so they are clearly trying not to be killed (someone needs to tell them they are too late... )

Good eye on that repetition, I found two other examples you missed as well! I went back and adjusted things to avoid them.


Next: Teresa has barely survived her first encounter with a ghost. Now she must come to terms with how unprepared she really was in the conclusion to this chapter.

* * *

Chapter 17.4 - Learning The Hard Way

Teresa shuddered, and found herself falling to her knees in the flooded corridor. In spite of the potion of sorcery she had just drunk, she could feel that the magicka within her was completely expended again. Her arm was still freezing cold, and her heart pounded like mad within her chest.

By Raven! she thought, she had nearly been killed! If it were not for that magicka potion she was not sure what might have happened.

She had tripped on a damn bone! she thought, a bone! To think that she nearly died over something so simple and inconsequential. Was this how other fighters died? she wondered, over trivial little things like tripping?

She needed to pay more attention to what she was doing, Teresa thought. She had to stop being sloppy like that, sloppy and unprepared. That or she had to quit this treasure-hunting and go back to just harvesting plants in the forest.

But she needed that money if she was ever going to buy Simplicia's house, and she needed it fast. It would take forever to get it making potions. Every moment she wasted was another moment the old woman's dream went unfulfilled, and at Simplicia's age, she did not have many moments left...

With that thought Teresa hunted for another healing potion and greedily downed its contents. Her arm felt much better afterward, with only the memory of the cold still lingering within its flesh. She was going to have to start organizing the potions she carried by placing them in different pouches on her belt, she thought. One would be for healing, another for magicka, perhaps a third for shield potions.

Damn! she thought, she should have drunk a shield potion when she had seen the ghost! That might have protected her from its claws at least. She wanted to slap her palm against her forehead in disgust.

She no longer tried to be quiet as she moved back down the corridor. If anything else was back here, she knew that her screams and splashing had long since told it where she was. Coming upon the softly glowing liquid that had been the ghost, Teresa took one of her empty potion bottles and carefully scooped it up. This would be worth a few gold septims, she thought, for unlike many other alchemical ingredients, ectoplasm did not grow on trees. She might even be able to make a shock poison from it, assuming she could figure out how.

She continued back into the tomb and found her longbow. Without her ring to protect it from the water, its flaxen string was already soaked and stretched out to the point of uselessness. She only hoped that the stave was waxed well-enough to prevent it from warping, otherwise she would be in big trouble.

Pulling the ruined string from the bow and casting it aside, she drew forth a spare from her belt and fixed it to both nocks. Looking over the strung bow, it appeared sound to her. She raised it and pulled the new string back to her cheek, dreading the sound of a crack or feeling it pull to one side or another. Yet the stave flexed smoothly and straightly, and held firm as she maintained her draw. Satisfied that it was still good, she gently eased back on the string until it was at rest.

Then she continued down the coffin-lined hallway. She briefly thought about opening them to see what might be inside. But remembering the ghost and the skeletons she had encountered made her change her mind. The owners might not stay still once she opened those lids, she thought. Besides, the idea of taking loot from buried corpses just seemed wrong somehow.

She knew Methredhel would laugh at that. It was not like the dead had someplace to spend it, the thief would say. But then Methredhel would never be here in the first place, Teresa thought. Dungeon-diving was far from her idea of a good way to spend an afternoon. She was probably still asleep after a long night of pilfering the homes of wealthy Imperials!

The thought gave Teresa a faint smile as she reached the end of the tomb and found another pair of huge doors. These were locked, but the bolts were on her side this time, so she had little difficulty in throwing them open and pulling one of the doors aside.

Beyond the doors she found a large chamber that might have been a storeroom, given all the broken wood floating through it. A single, normal-sized door lay in the wall across from her, and near one wall she found a wine rack.

Peering through its contents, she found that most of the bottles were broken. However, she found two at the top that were still dry and intact. Pulling them down one at a time, she dusted them off and felt her heart leap at what she saw printed on the labels.

Shadowbanish, was the single word written across each in an elegant, flowing script. Another faint smile crept to Teresa's lips as she thought about the person who had asked her to look for that rare wine.

Nerussa, she thought, it looks like I will be seeing you again after all…

Aha! So we will be seeing Nerussa soon, I hope?

Yes, Oblivion is just one big arms race, isn't it? And yes, when you encounter your first wraith with only a plain iron or steel weapon, it's Yikes! time! We dressage riders like to refer to a moment like this as "a downward transition"!

The aftermath is compelling in its taking stock of WTF just happened? I love such moments - they add to our comprehension of the character's growth.

I'm back, and I'm glad to see that the Teresa of the faint smile and the not-so-faint fighting style is still alive and kicking!!!

I'm with Rider - I enjoyed hearing Teresa reflect and critique herself to see what she thought and learned.

Her assessment rang true and familiar. Perhaps it is a wood elf thing, but when mine gets rattled, she overlooks things and makes mistakes too. She gets flustered under pressure. The beauty is that I bet Teresa will learn to be more cautious when she backs up in combat, remember to consider a shield potion, organize her vials for better access. . . . She will incorporate those things into her normal way of doing business, I bet. She did not waste her time evaluating what she learned with an eye towards improving.

This was a joy to read!

WooHoo, a midnight wood elf snack for Nerussa!

Like the others said, this chapter was a good time for Teresa to catch her breath and take stock of recent events.

I may be the only person who finds fault with this. If so, then I apologize in advance for raising this point one last time. I promise, after this I will leave it alone:
Whenever ‘she thought’ is used, it is the same as ‘she said’. Whatever it is that she thought should be treated as dialogue spoken out loud. Teresa would never say ‘she’ when speaking of herself (only overpaid athletes refer to themselves in the third person). She would say ‘I’. So:

Would become: By Raven! she thought, I had nearly been killed! (italics are, of course, optional)

Would be: I tripped over a damn bone! she thought, a bone!

I need (or needed) to pay more attention to what I am doing, Teresa thought.

Damn! she thought, I should have drunk a shield potion when I first saw the ghost! (or something to that effect)

The way that you are doing it now is not, strictly speaking, incorrect. However, by choosing to remain detached as the narrator, you take the immediacy out of Teresa’s thought process. As it reads now, it is you as narrator telling us what Teresa is thinking, instead of Teresa telling us herself.

And I, for one, am glad. What sort of tree would it be- an Ewwwcalyptus?



Several of my characters endorse this view.

Teresa is learning from her mistakes and missteps- but she may also need to consider adding some silvered arrows to her arsenal... The moments of reflection were a treat. And you give a good rationale for her motivation to chose dungeon-delving instead of alchemy to make cash quickly.

haute ecole rider: Well, Teresa certainly hopes to see Nerussa soon!

This chapter was really meant to underscore Teresa's relative inexperience. She does fine against simple enemies like imps by dint of her skills - sneaking and archery. However, when she encounters the ghost she finds skill alone is not enough. Her reflections on her near death are important, as they will fuel her desire to gain the professionalism she so plainly needs.


D.Foxy: Hello Vulpinius of the D. Teresa is glad to see you back!


Acadian: A midnight snack indeed! Yum! As I said to h.e.r. Teresa has now realized just how un-professional she is. Now she has to figure out how to change that.


Destri Melarg: I understand what you are saying, and you have a good point. It is something I have been making an effort to avoid altogether in my recent writing by using less of those internal dialogue tags. When I go back to the older chapters like this last one I have a hard time spotting them to rewite my way around them. I could go with using "I" as you suggest, but I do not like using that word in third person. I am afraid of making people confused by thinking I am bouncing between 1st and 3rd pov. It is something I have to think of more and look at more examples of in other people's writing.


treydog: Ewwwcalyptus? Ouch! That was painful, but you still made me smile more than just faintly.


Next: Teresa finally returns to the Imperial City.


Chapter 18.1 – Heart of Steel

4th Last Seed, 3E433

It was several days into Last Seed by the time Teresa returned to the Imperial City. Even though it had been little more than a month since the Oblivion Crisis had ended, she saw barely any signs that it had ever taken place at all. Aside from many doors and window frames that looked far newer then the faded white-wash on the stone insulas into which they were set, she would have never guessed that a pitched battle had been fought in the streets and buildings.

Life goes on, Teresa reminded herself as she fought her way through the crowds along Commerce Street. By reflex her eye cast about for Simplicia when she came to the intersection with Market Way. Yet she knew that the old woman would not be found begging on the street corner. Not anymore, she thought with a faint smile. After all, now she had a job at Jensine's.

Vowing to find the elderly Imperial later, the forester turned down Market Way to the Merchants Inn. There she parted with ten drakes for a room and left her bottles of Shadowbanish Wine within, along with the alchemical samples she had gathered during her latest expedition. Gathering up the rest of her loot from Nagastani and Castle Magia, she made the rounds of the merchants in the city, starting with Umbacano and his treasured Ancestor statue. Once more the pale Altmer made her teeth want to jump from her mouth. Yet he held up his end of their bargain, and his man Lurkos paid her the hundred gold septims he had promised.

By the end of the morning Teresa's purse was fat with golden septims and silver drakes, and she finally stopped at Jensine's shop. Before she could get two steps into the store, she felt herself swept up into a pair of bony arms, and heard a familiar creaking voice in her ear.

"Oh my little cherry blossom!" Simplicia cried, and Teresa could not contain the wide grin that crested her features as she held the Imperial tightly. When she finally stepped back and let go, she saw that the old woman wore a new dress of spun flax. Her hair was neatly brushed, and her face, while lined and careworn, was clean and fairly beamed back at her.

By Mara! Teresa thought, what a difference from the dirty and disheveled woman she had known all of her life. She could barely restrain her urge to throw her arms around Jensine as well, for she knew that the Nordic woman was to thank for most of it. For without the job she gave Simplicia, the Imperial would still be out in the street in spite of the money that Teresa gave her.

"I missed you so much!" Teresa exclaimed, reaching out to gently lay her hands upon Simplicia's shoulders once more. "Did you get my letters? I sent you two of them."

"Oh yes!" the Imperial woman's eyes lit up, and her hands slid down into her skirts, only to produce a pair of folded parchments a moment later. Teresa recognized them instantly as the letters she had penned during her most recent journey. One from a Wandrev and Farthir station in Sideways after she had left Methredhel, and the other from a similar post on the Blue Road near Lake Nemi. "I've read them a dozen times each!"

Teresa spent the rest of the morning with Simplicia, and shared a lunch with her at the Feed Bag. The old Imperial insisted on returning to work afterward however, and Teresa could barely restrain a chuckle at her diligence. Still, the forester was thankful. She had never seen the old woman so bright-eyed and filled with life as she was now. It was amazing what a little self-respect could do for a person, Teresa mused as she parted with her adoptive mother. That was a lesson she knew all too well from personal experience, thanks to the Emperor.

Her thoughts did not linger on the stately Imperial ruler for more than a moment however. Rather, her mind was on the burgundy and black dress that she had seen in the window of the Three Brothers' shop. If she was going to meet Nerussa, she ought to look her best when she did, Teresa mused. The Altmer woman might notice, and might even like what she saw…

So in no time at all Teresa was the owner of a new outfit of fine linen, then back at the inn and trying it on. She could not believe how soft and smooth the fabric felt under her fingers. The Imperial who had sold it to her - she could not tell which of the three Verus brothers it had been - said it was brand new and made from fine Argonian cotton. After a lifetime of wearing sack cloth she was accustomed to clothing that was rough and scratchy. This on the other hand felt simply divine as it slid gently across her skin.

How might it feel under Nerussa's fingers? Teresa found herself wondering as she looked at herself in the mirror. The thought made her heart pick up its pace, and spread warmth throughout her frame. She remembered those soft, amber eyes that the innkeeper possessed, and how easy it was to fall into them…

Twisting and turning to see herself from every angle, she frowned at what she saw. Women were supposed to be curvier, the forester thought, with wide hips and much larger breasts. What had the legionaries said the first time she was in their tower? she was 'too stringy'. Teresa sighed. All she could do was hope that Nerussa liked stringy women, assuming she liked women at all.

Teresa did not know why it mattered so much to her. When she had left Weye she had resolved to never see the Altmer woman again. Nerussa was trouble, she had spent an entire day wrangling slaughterfish because of the Altmer. Yet trouble had never made her heart race in such a wonderful manner...

Packing the bottles of Shadowbanish into a small bag that she had already filled with straw to serve as padding, she was ready to go. After glancing in the mirror one last time, she thought about her hair. She really ought to fix it up neater, she reflected. That made her think about her skin as well. Perhaps she should bathe again, and scent it too?

So she put down her wine and took off her new dress. Soon she was soaking in the inn's metal tub, filled with steaming water that was heated by a bed of heat stones underneath it. As much as she loved the wilderness, she did miss being able to take a hot bath. Scrubbing her hair and body with vanilla extract, she breathed in its soft aroma with delight. Nerussa was certain to notice this, she thought with a faint smile!

Then she was drying off and dressing again. Afterward she fought a battle with her hair until she was eventually victorious and every strand was in the right place, at least for the most part. Finally satisfied, she pulled the bag over her shoulder and was out into the streets of the Imperial City.

How wonderful! A reflective return to the IC, the evidence of the Daedra invasion still plentiful. What a wonderful reunion with dear Simplicia! Ah, and now a heavy coinpurse as well. Finally, reflections and nervous anticipation as she prepared to deliver the two glass excuses to see Nerussa.

I love how you phrased Tereasa's reaction to Umbaccano here.

Yup. Silly elves - never satisfied with what Mara gave them!

Quoted for truth among wood elves.

Another beautiful phrase. In fact I loved how you described all of her preparations for her visit to Weye.



Nits: This sure looks like a casualty of last minute editing. Perhaps: 'Even though it had been little more than a month since the Oblivion Crisis had ended, she saw barely any sign that it had ever taken place at all.'

easy vs easily? Not sure, so just take a look and see if you want 'how easy it was to fall…' or perhaps '…how easily she fell into them.'

How wonderful to see Simplicia doing so well in Jensine's shop! So something good did come out of that Crisis.

This is my favorite: Amen for rogues, scoundrels and wenches!

Acadian picked out the other phrases I liked too.

Loved this!

It's great to see an aftermath of the Oblivion Crisis written so masterfully, especially from the point of view of a lower middle class character who was not completely involved, and has questions about the whole thing. Also, your portrayal of Simplicia makes me see her in a whole new light, much different from my earlier feelings of slight pity and dismissal! Looking forward to the next chapter
Nell

Yay, me. To provoke a positive reaction from our resident sage is a joyous feat!

You set up an interesting contrast- things in the IC seem not to have changed, despite the Oblivion Crisis, but that only on the surface. At a personal level- for Teresa and Simplicia, things have changed a great deal.

I loved her fussing with her preparations to meet with Nerussa, even as she tells herself the Altmer is trouble. Of course, I don't know anyone who has ever done anything like that....

Wonderful descriptions of the City and the people who live in it add so much life to this chapter.

I have never done the quest to find Shadowbanish wine. In fact, it wasn’t until reading about Teresa’s adventures that I even ventured into the Wawnet Inn. After laying eyes on Nerussa, I can definitely see the appeal. She has even supplanted Carahill as my favorite female Altmer.


This stood out for me. Teresa using her own experience to frame her understanding of the change that a job has wrought in Simplicia.

Nits? None. Simply enthralling.

Acadian: Thank you Acadian. As you know, girls are never happy with what Mara gave them. And water, well, you know what that does...

Quite right on the nits, fixed.


haute ecole rider: Thank you h.e.r. If Nerussa were a FO3 character, I think she would have the Black Widow and Lady Killer perks...


Linara: Welcome to the TF Linara! Since we do not have a wavey smiley, here is a santa instead:

One of the things I was going for with Teresa was to show the game from the pov of a (relatively) ordinary person. I am glad you liked it.


treydog: I cannot imagine Athlain getting nervous and excited all at once over seeing Athynae! Oh no, not at all!


Destri Melarg: I often wind up doing the shadowbanish quest by accident, when I stumble upon the bottles in a ruin I happen to be exploring. Nerussa is one of the early characters I met when I first played however, as not long after starting I went west and stopped in Weye. Since I am on the PC, I modded her a bit to be somewhat more flashy. Not that it took much, mostly just new clothes. Her, Carahil, and Ardaline are my three favorite Altmer, when it comes to eye-candy at least.


Next: Teresa has made her rounds of the Imperial City. Now she makes her way to Weye, but is accosted by the Imperial Legion.


Chapter 18.2 – Heart of Steel

"Stop right there Bosmer!" a male voice rang out across the street like a trumpet, "where do you think you're going?"

Teresa instantly froze, feeling her heart leap into her throat. Damn, it was the Imperial Legion! she silently cursed. What were they after her for now?

Then she felt her face fill with heat. What right did they have to harass her? She had not broken any laws, not since going to prison at least. They had no reason to give her trouble, and she was not going to stand for it!

"I'll go wherever I damn well please you iron-clad-" She whirled to face her accuser with a pointed finger. However, her words trailed off as the legionary approached with a clanking of metal. She saw a grin through the Y-shaped slit in the face of his helmet, and a single blue eye glinted back at her.

"Volsinius?" she wondered aloud, "is that you under all that metal?"

"In the flesh!" the legionary proclaimed as he stepped in front of her, "you should see the look on your face!"

"Damn you iron-headed ox!" Teresa cried. "That's not funny!"

She punctuated her remark with a fist to his steel breastplate. He did not seem to even feel it, but Teresa certainly did as pain blossomed where her fingers crashed against the unyielding metal. She pulled her hand away as if it was burned, and nearly doubled over as she cradled it against her chest.

"Owww!" she cried.

"Aww, what did you have to go and do that for?" Volsinius murmured, taking her hand in his own. His gauntleted fist was so large that Teresa's hand simply vanished within it, and his steel-clad fingers carefully felt along the ridges of her bones while she grumbled wordlessly.

"Nothing broken," he announced after a few moments. "You certainly got the temper to go with that hair. You really need to think before you do something like that Red."

"I know, I know," Teresa breathed, and she wondered at her own actions. Her anger was starting to get the better of her lately. Ever since the prison it had been coming out more and more, she thought.

No, she ruminated, it had always been there. It was just that she had never let it out before. She had always been a meek little mouse afraid to cause trouble. Now that she was not afraid anymore, she was letting her fury out when it came, instead of just swallowing it like a bitter potion.

The Emperor probably never saw that coming when he told her that she could change herself! Yet it was hardly something that would make him proud either, she thought. Whenever she got angry, she seemed to do something stupid, or at least embarrassing. She really had to learn to control herself...

"When did you get out?" Teresa asked, craning her head back to stare up at the towering legionary. "I thought you would still be laid up?"

"I was out weeks ago," Volsinius said. "Calindil fixed me up with his spells after you left the city. I used to think he was just some ponce, but that guy really is something else. He used to be a battlemage in the Second Legion you know, before he retired to run that magic shop of his."

"Thank goodness," Teresa said, looking up at his one remaining eye, "how does it look? Can I see?"

"Aww, you don't want to do that," his words trailed away as he looked away down the street.

"Yes, I do," Teresa said, remembering the battle in Jensine's shop and how bad the legionary's face - really his entire body - had looked afterward.

"Well, don't say I didn't warn you," the legionary said quietly as he lifted his full-faced helmet from his shoulders.

Teresa bit her lower lip as she gazed up at him. It was the first time she had seen him without the bandages. His blond hair had thinned out on the left side of his head - the side that had been burned by the atronach - but it was still there. It had all been gone at the end of the battle, so that was good at least, she thought.

However, his left eye was missing, and nothing but a gaping socket remained where it had once shone. The skin on that side of his face was wrinkled, browned, and spotty, like old leather that had dried out and cracked from too much sun. His left ear was nothing but a tiny nub, twisted and misshapen into a form that Teresa could not even put words to.

The Bosmer felt her heart lurch at the sight, and fought as best she could not to flinch or otherwise show the horror that was spreading through her. But she saw in his eye that she had failed, and he lifted his helmet to once again cover his maimed features.

"I told you it wasn't pretty," he said. His voice was not the stony growl that she knew so well. Rather it was one filled with quiet emptiness. Something Teresa knew all too well after a life in the streets.

"Wait!" she cried, lifting her hand and gently laying it on the side of his burned head. She did her best to force a smile to her face, when inside she felt like crying. This was all for Simplicia, she knew. In her mind's eye, she could still see the legionary stepping between the old woman's sprawled form and the flame atronach. She saw the Daedra raise its hand to Volsinius, and engulf his head in fire…

"Does it still hurt?" she asked quietly, looking in his eye.

"No, not anymore," he answered, his one eye not making contact with her own, but looking down at the cobblestones instead, "not since Calindil fixed me up. He saved my hair at least, and the side of my mouth."

"He did a good job," Teresa breathed, trying as hard as she could to be cheerful. The truth was that he had looked far, far worse laying on the floor of Jensine's. It was amazing that he could even look this good after that.

"So how come you have blond hair?" Teresa traced her fingers over the golden stubble on top of his head. "I thought you Imperials were all dark?"

"Oh that's from my mother," he said, finally lifting his eye to meet hers. His voice picked up again as well, not quite the granite of his normal tone, but at least not the dull ache it had been moments before either.

"She's a Nord," he explained, "it's my father that was an Imperial. He was in the Twelfth Fulminata - The Lightning-Struck - up in Skyrim when he met her. She was a hunter who worked as a local scout for them."

"So that's how you got the Nordic body and the Imperial name," Teresa finally drew her hand away. "I was wondering about that since you said you came from Skyrim."

"Yeah, born and bred on top of the world," he said. "My father was away most of the time, so my mother raised me. She taught me everything I know about how to fight. She should have been a drill instructor in the Imperial Legion! She would have been a damn sight better than the ones that tried to train me when I came down here to join up."

So being hard as nails runs in the family, Teresa thought. A mother who could be a drill instructor! No wonder his heart was as hard and cold as steel...

"So when did you get back in town?" Volsinius asked, "and what's with the fancy get up?"

"I just got back this morning, I explored one of the old ruins on the east side of the lake a few days ago - Castle Magia." Teresa said. She was not about to mention why she was dressed up.

"Castle Magia!" the legionary made the name sound like a curse, "didn't you hear?"

"Hear what?" Teresa wondered.

"About the damn necromancers!" Volsinius exclaimed. "They murdered the Arcane University's mages on Wellspring Island."

"What?" Teresa's eyes flew wide. She knew that Wellspring Island was less than a mile down the coast from the castle, across a little strait of water from the east bank of the lake. She had swum right past it when she had returned to the City Isle.

"We just got briefed on it this morning by the battlemage that found out," Volsinius said, "some creepy-looking Dunmer named Saya. Turns out she just graduated and went to get her staff made on the island, and found it crawling with necromancers. It looks like they killed everyone from the University about a week ago and set up shop there. They probably would've frosted her too if she wasn't a battlemage."

"I never saw a thing," Teresa's head whirled at the idea of those murders taking place so near to where she had been, with her having no idea. "Maybe that explains all the undead I found in the castle though. It was packed with skeletons, even a ghost."

"A ghost!" he cried, and suddenly Teresa thought that he sounded just like Simplicia, "dammit Red, you gotta start being more careful…"

Yaaaay, Vols! :twirl:

Once he saves her life, he's obligated to look after her like Simplicia, huh?

And I see Saya gets her first mention. I have a feeling we'll hear more (and maybe eventually see) her in the future.

Welcome back, Vols! My goodness, 'Rosa, in one brief chapter you manage to take Teresa and Volsinius through the full range of human emotion. Your description of his face was truly heartbreaking, while at the same time strangely optimistic. I know that in time the emptiness will leave Vols’ good eye and he will carry his scars with the pride that his actions in earning them warrants.

Teresa continues to be removed from the important events of the day. Are we to assume that she will experience all the major events of the Mages Guild questline as whispered rumor? Your ability to present the quests to us in this way, while also maintaining Teresa’s ability to act and quietly influence events in her own arena of experience has always been my favorite thing about the TF.

I wonder, will Saya be to the Mages Guild what Julian was for the Main Quest?

That felt heartbreaking and somewhat resigned, but also with a bit of hope. Poor Vols, the knowledge that other people see you as horrifying as well often hurts worse then the injury itself. I too am curious about Saya. Is she a character from another FF like Julian or is she your own creation?
Nell

I wonder if doing dumb things when angry is a wood elf thing?

I love Vols! As always, you do a magnificent job with him.

What a wonderful way to allude to the challenges faced by the Mages Guild! Oh my. This has loads of potential if you choose to go there (or not). I know a little bit about Saya - I would not want to be a necromancer on Wellspring. . . .

Oh, for Linara, Saya is another character of SubRosa's. Definitely not the girl next door. . . .

Hooray! Vols is back! And interrupting Teresa’s assignment… assignation… assimilation… I think I will just stop typing anything that begins with those 3 letters before I write myself into a corner.

Even though Teresa “plays for the other team,” there is an interesting tension between her and Vols. Mostly that is because he was the “ogre” of her childhood, and later her rescuer. So perhaps it is just a function of the intensity of their shared experiences. But love takes many forms.

Everyone has already put my impressions into far better words than I could manage- so I will just note- “What they said!”

haute ecole rider: I knew you would be happy to see Vols again. In a way you are right, he is obligated to look after Teresa. He put a lot of effort into keeping her alive during the crisis, it would be a shame if that all turned out for nothing (not to mention would cut my writing rather short! ) A feeling which runs both ways...


Destri Melarg: This chapter is one of my favorites because of the depth it gives Vols. We had a glimpse of it when Teresa visited him in the barracks, now it really comes out.

There will not be much of the Mages Guild quest going on in the TF, at least not how it is in the game. However, there will be some related stuff. The mention of Wellspring Island was the prologue to an arc that will reach fruition in Bravil.


Linara: Heartbreaking is exactly what I was going for with the realization of just how horribly maimed Vols was in the Oblivion Crisis. Teresa knows full well how her reaction can effect him too, which is why she was kicking herself for letting her initial (and natural) shock to show. Saya is another character of mine. A Gothmer battle-conjurer, she was the first magician I ever played. She will be making some small appearances in the future, and should have an entire chapter from her pov.

Acadian: Well, I think Bethesda established that doing crazy things is a wood elf thing! At least for the men. Maybe the women just do the dumb ones instead


treydog: Teresa's assembly? association? assizement?

Yes indeed, love takes many forms. As h.e.r. noted, a certain responsibility comes with saving someone's life. But even before that when Teresa visited Vols in the hospital she saw how he, Simplicia, and herself were all tied together by a strange quirk of fate. This is still one of my favorite chapters because of the depth it not only gives Vols, but especially Teresa's growing relationship with him.

And I think while not only playing for the other team, Teresa might be able to score a goal soon too.


Next: Teresa ran into Vols in the previous segment, and saw how badly wounded he really was during the Oblivion Crisis. Next a shadow looms from both their past's.


Chapter 18.3 – Heart of Steel

Then his gaze trailed away, fixing on something down the street from them. Seconds later a shout rose from the same direction. Even as Teresa was turning to see what it was, the legionary was springing into action. His helmet clattered to the pavement as he darted to one side of the road, his open hand reaching out in front of him.

Teresa marveled at how quickly he moved in the full suit of steel armor that he wore. She doubted that she could even walk in all that metal, let alone run. He had the muscle for it though, she thought, probably more in one arm than she had in her entire body!

Teresa saw an Argonian vendor at a food stand down the street waving his hands and yelling, while a flash of dull brown and green made its way through the throngs of people toward the two of them. Teresa knew what that was in an instant - a thief who had just robbed the merchant - although she could not see who it was yet.

Somehow Volsinius did however, and he was standing directly in front of that blur when it emerged from a crowd of people. The next thing Teresa knew his steel-clad hand was clasped around a tiny arm, and the blur of motion had transformed into a little girl wearing dirty clothing and clutching an apple in one hand.

She could not be more than twelve years old, Teresa thought, feeling her heart lurch in her chest. The street urchin's brown hair was as dirty as her threadbare clothing, and her Bretonish features were thin to the point of gauntness. Her brown eyes were filled with woe as they looked up at the legionary who towered above her, and her shoulders slumped in defeat.

Teresa felt a pit yawn wide in her stomach. She had been that same girl less than a decade ago! By Mara, she thought, it was like looking into a mirror that showed the past. Her tongue slid into the hole between her molars where a tooth had once been, until Volsinius had knocked it out with a backhanded smack when she was a child. A slap because she had stolen a sweetroll...

She could not let him do that to this little girl! Teresa thought with urgency as she scooped up the soldier's helmet and ran to where the two of them stood. She was not sure how, but she had to stop him.

"Well what do we have here?" the legionary rumbled, once more the lion of the street as he glowered down at his prey. "Stealing is it? Do you know what the penalty is for theft?"

"Volsinius no!" Teresa shouted as she closed the distance between them, the folds of her long skirt threatening to wrap around her legs and trip her. "She's just a child!"

The legionary looked up at her, his face hard as stone. Then something odd happened to his features, something she had never seen in them before. He winked at her. It seemed so strange on his scarred face that it left her too dumbfounded to speak.

The girl said nothing as he took the apple from her hand. Still clutching her arm, Volsinius marched her down to the vendor. The Argonian stood beside a simple wooden stall on the side of the street, piled high with apples, pears, and other fruit, with an awning of canvas overhead to offer shade from the sun. He hissed with satisfaction and stared down at the Breton.

"Ahhh, you have captured the prey," the Argonian said in the low, raspy tone common to his race. "Now it can learn the error of its ways!"

"So this is your property then citizen?" Volsinius asked as he held up the fruit, all business now.

"Yes, it is," the Argonian hissed, "the tadpole snatched it when it thought this one was not looking. But Broken-Scale sees all!"

"That's it then," Volsinius declared and handed the apple to the vendor. Then he glowered down at the Breton, "we have a special punishment for criminals like you."

The girl did whimper then, and tried to squirm from his grasp. But there was no escaping the vise of the legionary's grip, and she was forced to keep up as he strode down the street away from the Argonian fruit-seller.

"Volsinius, don't you hurt her!" Teresa cried, feeling her heart in her mouth. "Look at her, you can see she is hungry!"

"Stay out of this Red," Volsinius rumbled, turning a corner down a side street and continuing to the larger, busier road beyond. "This is a legion matter now. Crime must be punished."

"She's just a little girl!" Teresa said, fighting to keep her rising anger in check this time, "not the Grey Fox!"

Volsinius looked at her and winked again. Teresa's words evaporated in her mouth. The legionary was up to something, she thought, but what? This was not like him at all. The Volsinius she had known before the Oblivion Crisis had been a blunt instrument. It was all law, order, and brutality with him. Was this the same man?

He stopped in the front stoop of a leather shop, out of the traffic of the street, and knelt down to strare the girl in the eye. She tried to look away from his maimed face, but he raised his other hand to turn her features back to his own.

"Now, what's your name girl?" his words were quieter now, only a low rumble rather than a loud growl. Teresa was not sure, but she thought it might be his idea of a soft voice.

The girl did not reply however, and once more she tried to squirm away with a whimper.

"Oh let me," Teresa breathed, kneeling down and taking the street urchin in her arms. The forester felt a sigh of relief escape her lips as Volsinius relinquished his hold of the girl. At least he trusted her that much. She only hoped that she could find some way to salvage this mess.

"It's alright, no one is going to hurt you," she said in a voice that was truly soft, and brushed the dirty hair from the girl's soft brown eyes. "My name is Teresa, and that daedroth there is Volsinius."

"Now what is your name?" she asked, doing her best to form a welcome smile.

"Brekke," the girl breathed, eyes darting from Teresa to the legionary.

"Well hello Brekke," the forester said, pausing to give a sidelong glance at Volsinius. "I wish we could have met in a better way. You remind me of someone I knew a long time ago. How long has it been since you last ate?"

"About three days," the girl mumbled. "Am I going to prison now?"

"No, not prison," Volsinius said, taking his helmet from Teresa and fixing it around his scarred head. "The Imperial Legion has something special for cases like this."

He stood up, then reached down to take the girl and lift her up in his arms. She squealed in surprise as he effortlessly hoisted her up on one shoulder, one arm still locked around her in a rock-hard grip.

The crowds parted in front of him as he marched down the street, as they did for all legionaries, and Teresa followed in his wake. She soon found that he was striding to the same hot food stand that she had bought dumplings and wine from the first time she had visited him in the tower barracks.

"Make way here, legion business!" Volsinius barked as they stepped up the stand, and as if by magic a space formed for him to step into. Setting the girl down on the stone counter, he gestured at the earthenware jars simmering with hot food that ran its length. "Now what do you like kid?"

Teresa felt her heart leap with joy, and for once a real smile crested her features as she looked up at the legionary. His blue eye met hers, and she thought she saw it soften for just a moment.

"How about some sausage?" he suggested, "or maybe some minced beef. Well maybe it's beef. It looks like it's from some kind of animal that had four legs at least..."

"You aren't going to lock me up?" the girl asked, looking up at him with a dumbfounded expression.

"Does it look like it kid?" the legionary rasped in exasperation. "Now are you hungry or not? 'cause if not then we can just go..."

"No! I want that!" the young Breton declared as Volsinius pretended that he was going to step away, her finger pointing to a jar filled with steaming fish.

"Good choice," Teresa said as she stepped to the other side of the street urchin. The Khajiit vendor filled a plate with the succulent lake trout and smothered it with garum, and Volsinius passed over one quarter of a cut drake to pay for it. "Some of that goat's milk for her too." Teresa declared, dropping a copper reman on the counter as well.

"I want wine!" Brekke declared, pointing to the steaming red liquid in one of the heated jars along the counter.

"Not a chance kid!" Volsinius laughed, still looking across the child and at Teresa. "You drink that milk and you'll grow up tall and strong like Teresa there. Maybe you'll even be great a Daedra-slayer like her too! That's how she got that way you know."

The girl's eyes widened as she looked from one adult to the other. Then the Khajiit put the plate of food in front of her, and she had eyes for nothing else. She devoured it with single-minded gusto, and Volsinius ordered a loaf of bread afterward and handed it to her as they walked away.

"Now you hide that so the big kids don't take it away," Teresa warned her, and the girl obligingly made the bread vanish in her skirts.

"From now on when you get hungry you come and find me," the legionary declared, "and we'll get something to eat again. My name is Volsinius, can you remember that?"

"Vols..." she muttered, staring up at his towering form. "Vols..."

"Aww, that's good enough kid," Volsinius chuckled. "You can tell which soldier I am, 'cause I'm the handsome one right?"

Brekke laughed then and beamed back up at him.

"Now if I'm not on the street, you go to that tower down there and tell them you're looking for me." he said, pointing down the street to the same barracks that Teresa had been visiting him at since the Oblivion Crisis had ended.

"And one more thing kid, and this is very important" Volsinius said, now kneeling down to look her in the eye. "You gotta make a solemn pact with me. You have to promise me you're gonna keep your nose clean and stay out of trouble. I catch you stealing again and the deal's off. You got that?"

She nodded, still smiling up at him and Teresa. The wood elf felt her heart melt when she stared into the street urchin's brown eyes. That could so easily have been her. What might her life had been like if Volsinius had done the same when he had caught her, so many years ago? How would she have felt about the Imperial Legion then?

"Run along now Brekke," she said, biting her lower lip, "and be careful."

The little street urchin took off down the street like an arrow and vanished into an alley in moments. It was like going back in time, Teresa thought as she stared after the girl. She had been just the same. So quiet, so wide-eyed, so filled with desperation...

"You did that because of me, back then, didn't you?" The Bosmer turned to face Volsinius, thinking of that backhanded smack across her face ten years earlier.

"I'm just doing my job is all," the legionary continued to stare down the street after Brekke. "That kid might be the next Grey Fox if I don't turn her from a life of crime."

That was just like him, Teresa thought as she laid a hand on his armored shoulder. She tried to tighten her fingers in a comforting grip, but of course the steel would not budge underneath her fingers. Still, she hoped he understood just the same, for perhaps his heart was not made of steel after all...

You know, this has got to be one of my all-time favorite chapters you've ever written!

I have a thing for rogues, scoundrels and tough men. When they're bad, I want redemption for them. Vols fit that bill perfectly for me, and this chapter is his redemption in full (though it actually began earlier, during the battle in Jensine's shop).

I guess it comes from having a tough Seabee for a father and an even tougher Marine sergeant for an uncle/godfather. Both can be scary, but they both had a soft side, and I loved them for it. And you've made Vols a character I can love, in spite of his tough exterior!

Agree with everything our Lady of the Horses said. This is one of my favorites, as well. And it is in line with what we have seen with Simplicia and Teresa- this is a story about the changes wrought by the Oblivion Crisis, but not the sweeping political and social changes. Instead, we are given a window into some very important and endearing lives.

Just as Uriel was a catalyst for Teresa, she has initiated or assisted in changes for others- Volsinius in this case. He is one of the best characters I have ever read in any fiction. Bravo!

Make it three for three! It is hard to quantify just how good this chapter is. Nothing is really spoken, but everything is made clear in the subtext. In Volsinius one can see the actions of a man who knows that he has been given a second chance. His desire to make amends for the mistakes of his youth is apparent in his treatment of Brekke. His fight with the daedra restored something to him that I think he felt lost after his actions on Simplicia’s behalf. It is nice to see honor and compassion reassert itself within his nature. That compassion has pulled him from the abyss to which he felt consigned before Teresa came back into his life.

Sorry, I got carried away. This chapter was just that good.

I had a feeling Vols was changing a bit, finally letting down his guard. And who couldn't feel bad for poor Brekke? "That kid might be the next Gray Fox if I don't turn her from a life of crime." Sure Vols, sure. I will agree in that this is also one of my favorite chapters, along with the battle at Bruma. It is good to see Teresa impacting peoples lives like this, and to see the bonds between her, Vols and Simplicia growing ever stronger. I look forward to the next chapter.
Nell

Thanks Acadian and SubRosa for explaining about Saya, this will make things easier to get when we read her chapter. I must add, she looks a little like Teresa, although most characters do have a similar facial structure.

You brought more than a faint smile to my face as well. Magnificently done!

How beautifully worded is this!?!

Ahah. I see little Brekke chose the fish over the sausage. My goodness. That really could be little Teresa a decade ago!

What a wonderful friendship has developed between Vols and Teresa. Both of them have grown so much!

I've said this before. Teresa is at her best when used as a vessel to show the beauty inside others.

Am I the only one who notices that when Brekke is offered sausage, she chooses fish instead???

*winks at SubRosa*

Too bad the foodseller didn't have any fish-scented pink doughnuts for sale...

haute ecole rider: This is one of my all time favorite chapters in the TF as well, precisely because of the growth we see under Vols helmet. It is very rewarding to read about a character who is far from perfect, but steps up to the plate to become a better person. It gives hope to us all that we can do the same ourselves.


treydog: You know, I had not really thought of that last chapter as being an example of the changes created by the crisis. But your doggie snout is on the money again. It was what I am going for though. Showing how people change from events, rather than how nations do.

And quite accurate with your assessment of Teresa's ability to inspire others. It was not something I planned on when I started writing her, but I have seen it as well. She does have a way of bringing out the better side of people. Well, most people at least. In fact, someone will be commenting on that in the upcoming chapter.


Destri Melarg: Thank you Dest. I am glad all of that shows through with Vols, because it is all exactly what I wanted. It is a little difficult being that the chapter was not from his pov, and of course he never would admit to any of it, even to himself.


Linara: You gave me a good laugh with the "Sure Vols, sure." He's not fooling anyone is he?


Acadian: It is amazing how much both Teresa and Vols have changed since the beginning of the story. Simplicia as well. I think what is heartwarming is that through all the bad things that has happened to them all, each has found a way to (eventually) create something positive from it all.


D.Foxy: Don't you mean doughnut holes?


Next: After having an uplifting encounter with Vols last chapter, Teresa finally makes her way to the village of Weye.


* * *

Chapter 19.1 – Dibella's Dance

4th - 5th Last Seed, 3E433

The sun was hovering over the western horizon as Teresa's hansom pulled to a stop in the middle of Weye. The bay horse drawing the two-wheeled carriage snorted loudly and shook his head after they came to a halt. Teresa wondered if it was a protest, as if he had an aversion to fishing villages? Shaking her head at the horse's proclivities, she clambered down to the cobblestones of the single paved road that cut through the settlement and vanished over a hill to the west.

"Shall I wait for the lady?" The driver's distinctly Bretonish voice drifted from where he sat in the back of the two-wheeled carriage, high above the small cab.

Teresa bit her lip as she stared at the stone and wattle edifice of the Wawnet Inn before her. Would this only take a few moments? Or would she be here the entire night? The young Bosmer felt her heart quicken its pace, and butterflies fluttered about in a lively dance within her stomach. Would Nerussa remember her? Would the high elf like her? Would she feel the same way that Teresa did?

Finally, Teresa shook her head once more. "No, go on," she murmured, "I'll probably be here the night." I hope, she added silently.

By Dibella, how do people do this? Teresa wondered as she turned back to the inn and stepped inside. She found herself on a small landing in the middle of a stair that ran up to her left and turned at the corner of the building. That went up to the rooms on the second floor, she remembered. To her right the stair descended to the common room, from which the sound of loud voices and music came to her ears. Pausing to lick her suddenly dry lips and run a hand to smooth down any errant locks of hair, she turned that way and did her best to gracefully move down the steps.

A dozen men and women sat around the wooden tables scattered throughout the room, while several more played darts against the back wall. An old man with a graying beard played a lively jig on a violin, while a handful of the younger men and women danced in a clear space in the center of the great chamber. Most of the patrons were clad in simple homespun, and bore the rough hands and weathered faces of peasants. However, Teresa also saw a few members of the Imperial Legion drinking at one table, their armor dusty from travel and eyes worn and bloodshot. They and most of the others looked up from their mugs as she entered, and Teresa imagined that it must have been the soft burgundy linen she wore that caused their eyes to linger.

"Teresa! is that you?" Nerussa's voice rang out to the left of the red-haired Bosmer. Turning, Teresa saw the statuesque Altmer woman standing behind a small bar. She wore a gown of black and gold velvet that was highlighted with lace, and once again her blond hair was cunningly tied behind her head by thin sticks that dangled sparkling golden jewels.

It was the Altmer woman's eyes that caught Teresa however, as they always did. The Bosmer felt a smile cross her lips as she fell into those deep amber pools. Not the usual faint smile that she reserved for most, but a wide grin that sparkled with ivory-white teeth. Teresa felt the breath catch in her throat as she lost herself in the other woman's stare, and for a moment she forgot about everything else in the world.

Screenshot

"Nerussa," she finally said as awareness returned to her. Stepping up to the bar, the forester laid her hands on its smooth wooden surface and leaned forward. "Hello."

Screenshot

Dibella, I am such an idiot! Teresa found herself silently cursing. She had spent all day thinking about this moment and that was all she could say? Hello? Nerussa must think her a bumbling fool.

"It is so good to see you again," Nerussa smiled, leaning forward herself. If the shapely high elf did think less of her, it certainly did not show. She took Teresa's hands in her own and held them gently. Teresa's heart picked up its pace. Her fingers were soft and warm, just as she had imagined they would be.

"I never had the chance to say goodbye when you were last here. Or to thank you for helping Aelwin. I am so glad you came by again," Nerussa continued, still looking deeply into Teresa's eyes.

"Um, how is Aelwin?" Teresa asked, hoping to steer the subject away from her abrupt departure during her previous visit. She prayed that the fisherman was not sitting in the room behind her. The last thing she needed was to look like an even greater idiot.

"Oh he is wonderful," Nerussa beamed, her hands still warmly holding Teresa's. "When he delivered those slaughterfish scales to the alchemist in Skingrad he fell in love with the city. He says there is not a drop of water anywhere in sight, and that is just how he likes it! He came back to pack up his things and was off again the next day to retire there."

"But what am I thinking?" the Altmer said, finally disengaging herself from Teresa and stepping back to look around behind the counter, "would you like some wine?"

"Oh, speaking of wine…" Teresa smiled again, or was she still smiling from when she had first set eyes upon Nerussa? She was not sure. She slid the bag from her shoulder and gently laid it on the bar. Untying the cord that held it closed, she reached inside with only the slightest quiver in her hands and drew forth both of the bottles of wine that she had recovered from Castle Magia.

"I brought some for you," Teresa declared, trying not to sound as nervous as she felt.

"Oh my goodness, Shadowbanish Wine!" Nerussa cried, clapping her hands together with a sparkle in her eyes. "You found some, and you remembered me!"

"Of course I remembered you," Teresa said automatically, "I've been thinking about you since we met."

"Oh you say the sweetest things Teresa." Nerussa's smile deepened, and her eyes practically glowed while her cheeks took on a warm, rosy hue. She walked around the bar and put her arms around Teresa, enfolding her in a gentle embrace.

Teresa sighed in contentment as the smooth velvet of Nerussa's gown surrounded her. She smelled lavender on the Altmer woman's hair and the scent of pomegranates underneath it. Most of all she was keenly aware of the softness of the high elf's body as it pressed against her own. She closed her eyes and drank in the moment, savoring every breath of Nerussa's scent, every inch of her body that she felt.

When Nerussa drew away, it was far too soon for Teresa. By Dibella, how did the Altmer have such an effect upon her? she wondered. Women like Methredhel and Adanrel did not make her feel like this. Well, maybe they did, she grudgingly admitted, but only a little. Yet she could forget how attractive they were, they were more like sisters after all. Once she set eyes upon Nerussa however, there was no driving the high elf from her thoughts.

"Why don't you help me take these upstairs and put them away?" Nerussa suggested, picking up the bottles and handing one to Teresa. Before the forester could respond the high elf took her by the hand and led her up the stairs, past the front door, and to the second floor above.

Teresa could not take her eyes off Nerussa's body as it swayed gently back and forth with every step above her. Her hips were hypnotic, transfixing Teresa's stare upon them. Her mouth felt dry once more as she clung to Nerussa's hand. Were they going to her bedroom?

The Altmer woman sauntered down the short hallway above the common room and stopped at the last door with Teresa still in tow. There she let go of the wood elf's hand in order to draw forth a ring of keys from one of the folds in her gown. Shaking loose one of shining brass, she unlocked the door and led Teresa within.

The room was large, easily three times the size of the guest room that Teresa recalled spending the night in during her previous visit. A soft carpet was stretched out over the hardwood floor, and the walls were decorated with warm-colored hangings that Teresa imagined might be silk. Several watercolor paintings of the great forest hung between the tapestries. They seemed so vibrant and alive with color that she could swear she was looking through windows rather than at portraits.

The furniture was of polished teak and mahogany and carved with flowing vines and blooming flowers. The bed was large enough for two, and draped in a blue velvet blanket over glistening silk sheets and matching pillows. Near it was a full-length mirror and a wardrobe. Beside that was a shoulder-high partition of delicate brass covered in floral-patterned silk. Made in three hinged pieces, Teresa could see that it could fold up to be easily put away, or when set out as it was now it would afford one a place to change clothing behind without another person in the chamber seeing.

Across the room was a vanity with a large mirror rising from its surface, and laid out with all manner of combs, brushes, bottles, and jars. Teresa imagined those must be all sorts of perfumes, lotions, and makeup. Next to it was a writing desk, and several comfortable-looking chairs and couches were scattered throughout the room.

Nerussa stepped to a short rack of wine bottles against one wall. Teresa marveled at the grace in which she walked. Every part of her body seemed to sway in gentle concord with the rest, as if she was dancing. Nerussa bent and carefully slid her bottle into an empty spot, then turned and reached out her hand to take the second from Teresa.

"You certainly live well." Teresa breathed as she looked around the room. Compared to Umbacano she was a pauper, Teresa knew. Yet where Umbacano Manor had a cold, oppressive feel to it, Nerussa's private chamber was warm and inviting. Like rose petals spread across the surface of a hot bath, it beckoned one with the promise of its soft delights.

"You like it?" Nerussa smiled as she put away the last wine bottle, pausing to let her fingers linger over the label before sliding it home within the rack. "I learned a long time ago to appreciate the pleasures in life. It is the little things, like the feeling of silk upon your skin, or the taste of a fine vintage, that make life a joy to live."

"I never really thought about it," Teresa admitted with honesty. Life had always been simply a struggle to get from one day to the next for her. Things like pleasures or happiness had never entered into her imagination, at least not until now.

"You must have lived a hard life," Nerussa said what Teresa was thinking. "I can see it in your eyes. You look so sad most of the time. But when you smile, it is like the summer sun bursting from the clouds."

Teresa felt her cheeks blossom with warmth as she stared down at her new burgundy shoes. Did she really seem so glum? the forester wondered. Worse, did Nerussa feel nothing but pity for her?

"I am sorry dear, I did not mean to embarrass you." the Altmer woman laid her hands on Teresa's shoulders and let her fingers slowly trace their way down her arms. "You are like a wildflower, delicate and beautiful to behold, yet also strong enough to endure the harshest wind and rain. I admire you so much."

"You do?" Teresa wondered, raising her head to look into Nerussa's eyes. She saw no pity there, nor subterfuge.

"Indeed," Nerussa took Teresa's hands in her own and gently squeezed, "Aelwin told me how brave you were when you killed those slaughterfish for him. I wish I had the kind of courage that people like you do. I am afraid to even think of what you faced to get that wine."

"Oh, it was not that bad, only a few skeletons and a ghost," Teresa did smile then, albeit only faintly. Not that bad at all, she thought to herself, aside from nearly being killed...

"Only one of those things would send me running and screaming to the nearest castle!" Nerussa exclaimed, her eyes brilliant with light, "you are so very courageous!"

Teresa turned her head down again as she felt the heat rush to her cheeks once more. She never liked it when people complimented her. It made her worry that they wanted something from her in return. Why else would someone say something kind? she thought. For some reason it only felt worse when it was about fighting. All she ever did was survive, it was people like Martin Septim and his father who deserved praise, for they had not.

"But what am I thinking?" the sound of Nerussa's voice made her look back up. The Altmer finally let go of her hands, and with a smile she ambled to the delicately carved writing desk. Using another key from her ring, she opened one of its lower drawers and drew forth a small chest. Unlocking that with yet another key, she counted out gold coins and put them in a small pouch.

"The least I can do is pay you for the wine. Ten septims a bottle, as we agreed." Locking up the chest when she was finished, Nerussa returned with the pouch and passed it to Teresa. "I just hope you were not harmed doing it."

"Oh I'm fine, nothing a few healing potions couldn't fix up," Teresa said, once more not thinking of her words until after they had spilled from her lips. She was not sure if she should feel grateful for the look of concern that suddenly crested upon Nerussa's finely-shaped features, or curse herself for being so doltish to admit the danger.

"I'm only joking," Teresa added quickly, and Nerussa seemed to relax, "I really am fine."

"Look at me, acting like an ivory tower princess," Nerussa rolled her eyes, "I am sure you do this monster-slaying all the time. I could tell when I first set eyes on you that you were a seasoned fighter."

Teresa tried to think of how to tell her that she was not, when suddenly the Altmer looked up.

"Oh goodness, I have to get back down to the common room!" she exclaimed with an infectious grin that prompted a wide smile from Teresa as well. "Those fishermen will drink all of my ale without paying for a drop! I'll go broke, and there will be no more wine for either of us!"

"You will stay the night, won't you Teresa?" Nerussa asked as she led the wood elf into the hallway and locked her bedroom door behind her. "We have never really been able to spend time together."

Teresa's breath caught at Nerussa's final words, and she wondered if the statuesque woman meant them the way that she hoped.

"I would like that very much," Teresa admitted with more than just a faint smile.

This was lovely! You wonderfully captured her awkward feelings as Teresa hoped and wondered about the dance she was getting into. I could feel the pitter patter of Teresa's heart.
Very nice, and wonderfully expressive!
A perfectly timed injection of understated humor driven entirely by the situation. Hmm. . . Teresa is going to have to start rating her smiles. You know, like this was a 2. A hug from Simplicia merits an 8. I see she is hoping for a 9 or better tonight.

These two quotes show much of Nerussa. From a woman with less finesse, it would simply be the same buttering up one would use to attract almost any man. From Nerussa however, it is carefully calculated to have a predetermined effect upon the young wood elf quivering before her. Guess what, Nerussa? It's working.

Acadian already said it all.

So I'll just say this: it was quite enjoyable to read this again. Whether one is straight or lesbian/gay, the emotions you described in the chapter are always the same. Wonderful job the first time around, and just as enjoyable the second time around!

That was a beautiful chapter. I've always loved the tiny villages and hamlets that you come across in Cyrodiil, I would rather live there than anywhere else. I agree with h.e.r. and Acadian, Nerussa has been written very nicely. And Teresa sounds like some high schoolers I know, when they try to talk to their crush! A very good read, indeed.
Nell

Teresa’s butterflies and doubts are universal. Even from the perspective of my great age (cough, cough) I can still remember those feelings which you describe so well.

And speaking of descriptions, the scene in the Wawnet Inn was so vivid that I could picture it even without the screenshots (which were an added treat).

The entire conversation with Nerussa was a brilliant bit of writing. Teresa’s running commentary had the ring of truth to it, as well. “Why did I say that? Why can’t I be clever and charming and relaxed?”

Nit:



Apparently Teresa was so caught up in the moment that she lost her “of.” Prepositions, propositions- eh, what’s the difference?

The difference is you preposition yourself to deliver your proposition.

Like hautee said, everything has already been pointed out. It seems to me that Nerussa is at least as interested in Teresa as Teresa is interested in her. There were a lot of men in the common room. Most are in no condition to operate a horse (especially if they have been naughty in Nerussa’s absence)! I wonder what the sleeping arrangements will be.