Nieres: Thank you Nieres! Welcome to Teresa's world! :icecream: I hope you enjoy the ride!


mALX1: Ewwww! I feel sorry for anyone who has to wash them under normal circumstances! :wacko:


Acadian: You know me, I am ruthless when it comes to writing. I make the best use of everything I can. Like I said, it was no accident that I chose Volsinius for this, and not just some random legionary.

I do hate when you cannot get a clear shot! Like someone said in that topic in the Cheats, Hints, and Spoilers forum, whenever you have a follower with you they always jump right in front of your attack. It drives me nuts! :swear:

Another great read SubRosa.

You certainly know how to tease. I am hopping up and down in impatience as I await this outcome.

Winter Wolf: Okay, no more teasing. Here is the end of chapter 1:


* * *

Chapter 1d - Crisis Ends

Teresa did not know how long they fought that way. It seemed like an eternity. The Daedra kept coming through the door in all of their varieties. One nearly set the entire shop on fire. Yet somehow she, Volsinius, and the others had been able to hold them off.

By the time the Daedra stopped and the street went quiet the Redguard was dead and Jensine lay unconscious in a pool of her own blood. Teresa had used up all of her poison and was down to her last arrow. Her leg ached where a creature that Volsinius called an Atronach had burned it, and her ribs felt like they were on fire from the lightning bolt of a spider-like Daedra. Her entire body felt leaden and heavy, as if she were going to fall over from exhaustion. Worst of all, the last of her healing potions had gone to save Jensine.

Volsinius looked awful, Teresa thought. His helmet was a pile of melted slag on the floor, his face blackened by soot, and half of his blond hair burned off. His shield was long since smashed to bits, and his heavy steel armor was rent and dented from top to bottom. Teresa thought his left arm might be broken, because he did not seem to be able to lift it anymore or hold anything in that hand. Yet he still gripped his longsword in his other fist, and his eye shone with resolute strength. He was just too mean and stubborn to give up, Teresa thought.

Simplicia sat beside Jensine, holding the shopkeeper's wounds shut with pieces of clothing that had been on display for sale. The elderly woman was not free of injury herself, Teresa noted with a sinking feeling in her chest. Her hair was matted with blood from a wound somewhere on her head, and her legs were sliced in half a dozen places. Yet somehow of all of them, she seemed the most fit and healthy.

The silence was pierced by the ringing of a bell, then of another, and another. The sound made Teresa's heart leap. Did this mean it was over?

Praying to the Nine Divines, she cautiously advanced to the doorway and stole a quick glance outside. The street was littered with bodies, some of people, some of Daedra. There was no sign of the Oblivion Gate that Volsinius had mentioned however.

"What's going on out there?" Volsinius gasped in a voice that was ragged with pain.

"Nothing," Teresa breathed, now stepping fully into the door and taking a long look outside. "There's no gate, no Daedra, nothing at all."

The sound of hooves came to her ears, followed by a distant voice. Turning her head in the direction it was coming from, she drew her bow to half tension. Her arms and shoulders protested, and she could feel her fingers begin to shake. Yet she willed herself to hold the position as the noise became louder.

In moments the author of the sound came into view, and Teresa could see it was a Khajiit riding a black horse. He rode down the street as fast as he could without the horse tripping over the bodies. After a moment Teresa recognized the rider as being Hassiri of the Black Horse Courier. She had seen him handing out copies of his and his brother's news sheets on many occasions in the past.

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

The bow and arrow fell from Teresa's shaking hands as the Khajiit rode by, shouting his news again and again. She set her back against the doorframe and slid down to the ground. The strength had left her body, and now she felt nothing but exhaustion.

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

"Teresa, you better come look at this," the quavering sound of Simplicia's voice came to her ears. Opening her eyes and looking back within the shop, Teresa saw that Volsinius was now laying face down on the floor. She had not heard him fall, she thought, even in spite of all that iron-mongery he wore. Had she fallen asleep in the doorway? she wondered.

"I think the bastard finally met his match," Simplicia said as she limped over to the wounded Imperial, "he looks done for."

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

She forced her aching body to rise and stagger across the floor to where the legionary was sprawled in a widening pool of blood. Her burned leg screamed in protest with every step, as did her scorched chest. She had hardly noticed the wounds during the fight, she thought, as if somehow the excitement of battle had dulled her senses. The fighting was long over though, as was the euphoria of surviving it. Now she was just tired, and every step was agony.

Yet cross the space to the legionary she did, and with Simplicia's help she rolled him over onto his back. Both of his eyes were closed, and Teresa was not sure if he was alive or dead. It was only then that she realized that what she had taken for soot on the left side of his face - the same side where his hair was scorched away - was actually burns. That was the side of his head that the Atronach had struck with her firebolt when his helmet was destroyed, Teresa remembered. How could he have even stayed on his feet like that? Teresa wondered in amazement, let alone fight?

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

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

Teresa saw her backpack laying against the back wall of the shop. All of the alchemical ingredients she had been gathering for the last week were still in there, she remembered. The Daedra had attacked before she could rent a room and being creating potions with them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You know, I guessed instantly that Vols would make some sort of joke when he came to. That's how much you've engraved him into my imagination.

Two bloody (sorry I couldn't resist) good chapters!!! :thumbsup:

Powerful stuff. It is clear you had a vision for this before you painted the first word. And paint a picture you did. Poignantly, consistently and beautifully. Wonderful descriptions.

I was delighted to see a touch of lightness, almost humor near the end. Yes, another faint smile from the thoughtful young woman of high character.

And another reminder of the selfless task of the Legion.

When reflecting on such a beautiful work, I feel badly mentioning something as mundane as an insignificant nit. I mention it only because I'm beginning to believe you insert them intentionally to test me. Nevertheless, consider this phrase: "His helmet was pile of melted slag on the floor?" for the addition of an 'a'.

Magnificent SubRosa!

You have beautifully captured the nuances of a desperate battle. Well done.

I may have to use Vols as a male role model !!! I love this chapter, personalities are emerging; your descriptions of the wounds were realistic by their detail - Awesome!

This chapter had fantastic realism to it.
Very rarely do we associate the image of battle aftermath with Oblivion.

You captured it perfectly.

Bravo.

D.Foxy: He was completely serious! (I cannot help it if the rest of us find it funny... )


Acaditor: Oh you love finding little errors like that! Fixed, and thank you for spotting it.

I never have been much for humor in writing, or even in film for that matter. I could never get through books like the Hitchiker's Guides or Bored of the Rings. It surprises me how much I enjoy the mALX's Maxical writing, given how hilarious some of the chapters are (maybe it is because it is only some of it, not all of it that is comedic). In any case, rambling aside, one thing I found a long time ago is that the more serious a scene is, and the more prolonged that somberness is, the more important it becomes to also have at least a little bit of humor woven in at some point to alleviate the dark mood. It becomes like a pressure valve.


bobg: Desperation was what I was going for, so thank you!


mALX1: Vols is actually in many ways a rather standard male action-hero character. He is the strong silent type, committed to his duty and completely at home with violence. I have tried to keep him from being too stereotypical by showing he has a very dark side, because he is too at home with violence, something Teresa shows us with her memories of him. He was originally meant to represent both the light and dark sides of law enforcement/the military by exemplifying both the protector and the tyrant. He will be very prominently featured in Chapter 4, where we will get a look 'under the helmet' and see just why he is that way, and the price he pays for it in his personal life. We will also see the web of fate that has tied him, Simplicia, and Teresa all together since before Teresa herself was ever born.


Winter Wolf: The real aftermath imagery is coming up in the next few chapters. That is when we will really see the mer (human?) cost of the tragedy. My goal all along with Teresa has been to avoid portraying a usual hero-type going around doing glorious things, but rather to show how it looks from the perspective of a relatively ordinary person. Someone at the bottom of the food chain rather than the top. That is why I set the scene in an ordinary shop with regular people just trying to survive. I am glad it works!

(drool, drool) - when does that chapter come out again?

Probably not for a few weeks. I have to do the 2nd - 4th drafts on it yet, and there are two other chapters before it. I am going to run it by Leydenne first too, since there are some things that are rather... intense.

OOHHH!

Sorry, sorry- I'm late to the party, as usual. To quote Inigo Montoya- "Let me explain. No- it is too much; let me sum up."

The feeling I got when reading this was of total immersion. It is like when you are watching movie and you forget that it is a movie. I got completely lost in the scenes in that battered shop, living through each moment as if I was there. Again, you convey a wealth of feeling with a minimum of words. Lovely.

In case you ask, I just saw a guy with six fingers on his right hand a few minutes ago, heading to the castle...

Thank you dog, that is exactly the kind of feeling every writer hopes to create.

Chapter 2a- The Collector


"Well, it looks like we finally got all the blood out," Simplicia sighed, wiping the dampness from her brow with her forearm. She dropped the stiff brush and rags that she held into the bucket of soapy water beside her, and slowly rose to her feet with a popping of old joints.

"I never thought it would get clean," Teresa replied, still kneeling on the floor next to the aging Imperial woman, "it's hard to believe that just two days ago this place was a wreck."

The red-haired Bosmer looked across the public room of Jensine's 'Good As New' Merchandise. Thanks to her and Simplicia the bodies had all been taken away and either buried or burned, the broken furniture sold off for firewood, and the walls, floor, and even ceiling was now scrubbed free of blood and gore.

"It probably hasn't looked this good in years," Simplicia observed as she straightened the folds of her tattered green dress, "a little empty though."

"Too bad Jensine cannot see it," Teresa said. But the dark-haired Nord was still recovering from her wounds, she knew, and would be bed-ridden for some time. The thought made Teresa turn to Simplicia and gently touch her graying hair.

"How is your head?" the willowy Bosmer asked biting her lower lip with care, "does it still hurt?"

"Oh you dote on me too much little one," the old woman replied with a smile, taking Teresa's hand in her own. "I'm fine. It'll take more than a few Daedra to put this old woman down!"

Teresa looked down at herself with a twinge of guilt. Her healing spell had sufficed to mend her own injuries. It had taken an eternity of her casting the spell over and over again, but in the end she felt fine. Yet she could not heal others with it, so there had been nothing she could do for Jensine and Simplicia.

Teresa wondered how Volsinius was doing. The Imperial Watch had come the night after the battle to take him away, what was left of him at least. He was in good hands with them, she knew. But after the terrible injuries he had suffered it was difficult for Teresa to imagine him ever truly recovering.

"Why don't we take a break for a while?" Teresa said, "then we can bring stuff up from the storeroom downstairs and start making this place look like a shop again. Maybe we could take the basemant door and move it here to the front of the shop, so it's not wide open. We should probably check in on Jensine upstairs too. She might be getting hungry by now."

"It feels so strange to be making an honest living again!" Simplicia exclaimed as she plodded over to the stairway leading to Jensine's private rooms above.

Years of suffering from Helljoint had done terrible harm to the old woman's joints, Teresa thought as she watched her slowly make her way across the floor. Teresa had cured her once she had learned how to create the right potion. But by then the damage had already been done, and there was no curing that. That was why everyone called her Simplicia the Slow.

Teresa snapped herself from her thoughts and went to the back of the shop where a pitcher of goat's milk and several porcelain cups sat on the floor. She poured them each a cup and met Simplicia at the stairs as the old woman sat down on one of the steps. With every chair in the shop destroyed during yesterday's fighting, it was the only place to sit.

"Well, I think you are going to have to get used to it old girl," Teresa said with a faint smile as she sat next to her and took a sip from her own cup, "Jensine is going to be laid up for a long time, and she is going to need someone to run this place, not to mention look after her."

"Do you think she would pay me for that?" Simplicia's eyes widened with something that Teresa had not seen in them for the longest time, hope, "she said she would pay us to clean up the shop, but never anything about staying around."

"I do not see why not," Teresa replied, "you see how she is. She can't run this place. She can't even get out of bed. There aren't enough healing potions or healers to go around to fix her."

"Here is to us then," Simplicia said with a smile, holding her cup up in a mock toast, "honest women both of us. Who would have imagined it?"

Teresa clinked her own cup against the old woman's with a faint smile and drank down the thick, warm liquid. The taste brought back memories of her childhood. Simplicia had always insisted that she drink milk, claiming it was healthy, and relegated herself to nothing but water so that Teresa could have it all. Only when she had grown much older had Teresa realized that Simplicia had often been going without anything to eat as well, just to make sure Teresa had something.

With that thought Teresa put her arm around Simplicia's waist and held her close. Laying her head on the old woman's shoulder, she closed her eyes and wished she could take her away from the city to somewhere better.

Oh, the last few paragraphs brought tears! - what an Awesome chapter SubRosa!!

Well, I counted two faint smiles. -_-

This was a beautiful chapter SubRosa! Just, oh what is the word I want... yes, 'satisfying' to read.

I enjoy learning more of Teresa through her interactions as always.

I also very much enjoy reading about a character we all know from the game (Simplicia in this case) and developing her into a full living breathing important person with hopes and dreams of her own - wonderful.

Teresa showing concern for Volsinius.
Who would have thought this possible just a short while ago, lol.

Just a comment -
You wrote 'buried or buried' at the start.
Is that buried or burned?

Wonderful chapter. Clever deducting why Simplicia is called "slow" :goodjob:

Wonderful, as always. Some very good "SubRosa" touches- the impact of a limited skill with healing spells, the economic reality of healing potions and who gets them (flu shots, anyone?), the circumstances that caused Simplicia's problems.

And then there are Teresa's finely drawn memories, which explain a great deal about her and her loyalty.

mALX1: Girly stuff is wonderful is it not? Thank you mALX, I really want to illustrate the depth of Teresa's feelings for Simplicia with the next few chapters. I am glad it is working.


Acadian: Thank you. When I finished Not A Hero and looked back on it, I realized that Simplicia was the most important person in Teresa's life. However, at that time I had done nothing to really flesh out the character at all. I only had what you see in the Wiki, which is not much. In Moving Through Darkness I am endeavoring to give Simplicia more depth, so that she can carry the larger role that the plot demands of her.


Winter Wolf: I would have never expected Teresa showing any concern for Vols after I wrote Not A Hero either! It just goes to show you how your characters can surprise you. Just wait until Chapter 4!

That was supposed to be "buried or burned". Thank you for catching that! Darn vowels horning in on my consonant's action...


RemkoNL: Thank you Rem. However, all credit for that must go to mALX. She was the one who figured out that Simplicia was called "the Slow" because of Helljoint. You will see it in one of her upcoming Maxical stories. I just followed in her brilliant footsteps on that score.


treydog: Thank you. I have been making a real effort to add in as much realism as possible to the setting. Like the realities of supply and demand, or because that Teresa does not have a formal magical education her use of spells will always be limited. I will be breaking away from many things in the game to make the story seem more realistic, for example traveling from the IC to places like Bravil or Chorrol take a week overland, not the matter of hours you see in the game. Perhaps one of the largest changes will be that being a member of a guild is a serious commitment to a person's time and energy in the Teresa fiction, so no one will be a member of more than one. For that matter, the guilds are very picky about who they allow in. For example, Teresa would never be allowed in the Mages Guild because she is not willing to totally dedicate her life to learning and using magic. I have also been thinking that the members of the Mages Guild would spend most of their time either creating domestic magic items for sale (like a frost crystal that people could put in a container, creating a refrigerator), or selling their services (someone with the Feather spell could makes tons of money in the transportation or construction business). We will be seeing more of that in future chapters.

We will also be seeing more about Simplicia's history in future chapters. The same with Vols too.

You 'see' the others in your story instead of seeing window dressing for your character. Better, you help us to see them too.

Very nice, SubRosa -- as always! Teresa's a very human, compassionate sort of person, who remembers wrongs done to her and yet forgives -- even if she doesn't forget. It's a joy to read your take on this story!

bobg: Thank you B. That is something I have been working on doing.

Rachel the Breton: Thank you Rachel. I am glad that her personality is showing through.

* * *

Chapter 2b- The Collector


The sound of someone knocking on the doorframe brought Teresa's head up from Simplicia's shoulder with a start. Standing in the open entrance to the shop was the tallest Altmer Teresa had ever seen, quite an accomplishment for a race that was naturally tall to begin with. In fact, Teresa was sure she had never seen anyone as tall as him in her life. The blue velvet clothing he wore said that he was money, and Teresa wondered if he had chosen the color on purpose to complement his short, flaxen hair.

"Excuse the disturbance my ladies," he said in a deep voice while his amber eyes settled upon Teresa, "I am looking for a Bosmer woman, an explorer of some ability named Teresa. Might I have discovered her?"

"Maybe," Simplicia spoke up in a wary tone as Teresa was trying to phrase an answer, "who's looking for her?"

"Oh, please excuse my presumption and allow me to introduce myself," the Altmer man apologized with a short bow, "I am Lurkos, the personal assistant of Lord Umbacano. My Lord has a business proposition he would like to discuss with the aforementioned Teresa. I have been apprised that she sometimes performs business transactions here? Would one of you be the owner of this fine establishment perhaps?"

"No," Teresa said, feeling distinctly uncomfortable at the towering man's polished manners and speech. He was certainly money, she thought, and people with money did not go looking for people without it, unless they wanted something... "Jensine's laid up right now. I'm Teresa."

"Who told you I was here?" the Bosmer stood, mentally preparing her Flare spell in case she needed it, "and why are you looking for me?"

"I believe you sold a rare and curious item of Ayleid origin to an entrepreneur residing in Cheydinhal, a woman named Borba gra-Uzgash?" said Lurkos, "if I am mistaken, then please accept my apologies for disturbing you, and I will bid you a good day."

"You mean those glowing green crystals?" Teresa bit her lower lip as she searched her memory. The only Ayleid artifacts she had ever sold - or ever seen for that matter - were the ones she found in Vilverin. That had been weeks ago, she thought, and she had indeed sold it all to an Orc in Cheydinhal.

"Welkynd Stones? Oh no, my Lord already possess a multitude of those," the towering Altmer explained, "this was something much more unique."

What else had she found there? Teresa ruminated. The gear of the bandits she had killed, or the weapons of the undead? Then she had it.

"That funny statue?"

"Ah yes indeed. The Ancestor Statue to be precise," said the Altmer, "my Lord Umbacano is a collector of such rare antiquities, and is interested in your services."

"What's this about ancestors and Ayleids?" Simplica rose to her feet, laying a hand on Teresa's arm, "you never said anything about Ayleids. You haven't been poking around those ruins have you?"

"It wasn't like that," well, yes it was, Teresa thought as she turned to face the old woman, "I was just exploring and I found it."

"Found it!" Simplicia exclaimed, "no one just finds Ayleid stuff! You said you wouldn't go around those places. They're all cursed by the Gods, and anyone who gets their nose in them is likely to be cursed too!"

"It was just a few bandits," Teresa bit her lip again. If you consider a dozen to be a few, she thought, not to mention the skeletons and zombies... "It was really nothing at all."

"If I have come at a bad time I can return at a later hour," the Altmer said, looking distinctly uncomfortable to be witness to their squabble.

"It's a bad time," Simplicia insisted, lurching across the floor in the Altmer's direction, "don't ever come back!"

"Simplicia!" Teresa tugged on the old woman's arm to stop her and whispered in her ear, "this could mean good money for me!"

"What good is money if you are dead?" Simplicia said in a loud voice as she turned to look at the wood elf, "if it were so safe, this butler would go get it himself. He's only hiring you because he doesn't want to get killed."

"Just have faith in me for once!" Teresa raised her voice, "I can't spend the rest of my life running and hiding!"

"I never said..." Simplicia's words trailed off as Teresa bounded across the room and scooped up her bow and quiver, then sprinted to the open doorway. The Altmer man was already gone, and Teresa did not see the beggar slump her shoulders in defeat behind her as she scurried out into the street.

Ah- and now we see a bit of the fire Teresa still carries inside... Poverty is always a powerful motivator, one that can test even the wise. And I suspect our Bosmer resents being treated like a "little girl," as well.

Your writing is again graceful, economical, and mesmerizing. The touches of description pull the reader deeply into the moment...

One note:

"I have been appraised that she sometimes performs business transactions here? Would one..."

I believe you want "apprised?"