This was superb (again), and beautifully written!

Very 'efficient'. You cover a great deal with an impressive economy of words.

We learn some new things. Teresa is quite loathe to discuss her 'adventuring' around Simplicia. I am interested to see if the guarding of her own affairs is only to prevent unnecessary concern by her friend. Or is she reluctant to speak of her adventures under most circumstances, as I suspect.

A realistically depicted 'disagreement' between Teresa and Simplicia - well done.

So... in addition to her trademark faint smiles, another endearing characteristic begins to emerge from Teresa - I hope she doesn't hurt her lower lip. -_-

Would you share with us why you chose to use create Lurkos, instead of using the Nord butler, Jollring from the game? I'm not criticizing the decision at all, simply curious as to your thinking.

1. At least you didn't make him four FEET taller... *casts glance in direction of Ayumi Fan*

2. What master Trey said.

3. DO make Teresa go off on a jaunt with adventure, mystery, and TREACHERY (Oooooh!!!) in it!!!

Great back and forth dialogue between the girls. It really brings the characters alive.

The collector is a great quest. I am very keen to see what Teresa does next.
Jollring does do the bald butler thing very well. It is good to have a contrast with Umbacano.

treydog: Thanks to your apprising nature that error is fixed.

Part of fleshing out the people around Teresa like Simplicia is showing that just as in real life, disagreements happen. That goes doubly so between parent and sibling during that painful process of becoming an advlt. Teresa is also a red-head, so you know what that means...


Acadian: Thank you paladin. To answer your first question - about Teresa's willingness to talk about her adventures - it is a bit of both, as I hope will be evident in the coming chapters.

As for your second question, hmmm, all I can say without revealing too much is that I have done a number of things to change The Collector quest. Those changes made it impossible for Umbacano to have someone like Jollring in his employ. I had to change other characters as well because of this. If you would really like to know more PM me and I will tell you.

Lurkos is also a bit of an in-joke on my part, I wonder if anyone here remembers the tall, sandy-haired butler he was inspired by?



D.Foxy: Well, maybe three feet...

Adventures, mystery, and treachery will all be Act III. But Moving Through Darkness will have varying amounts of the first two at least.


Winter Wolf: Thank you. I have gotten better at using dialogue to not only move the plot, but also to illustrate the nature's of characters speaking it. I have been trying to make the most of the latter.

(holds hands cupped around mouth) "Don't do it Teresa!" - this is where my game glitched, and Umbacano and his sidekick were listed as murders. It all went downhill after that - (or uphill for story purposes, lol)


*** Lurch?

Teresa seems very confident about dungeon crawling! Your writing is immaculate as always, but the important thing to me is how you are shaping Teresa and developing her relationships around her, Simplicia, Vols - I am very drawn in to the new facets of Teresa!!

mALX1: You rang...

Teresa's confidence in dungeon crawling comes from only doing one, and having things go smoothly that one time. As you can guess she will not be so lucky in the future...

We are going to be seeing some other minor characters from Not A Hero making appearances in the near future too. Some will not get the kind of depth I was able to put into Vols and Simplicia, but one certainly will.


* * *

Chapter 2c- The Collector


Lurkos had not gotten far down the main boulevard that cut through the Market district, and Teresa's quick feet were able to catch up to him in moments. For all his imposing height, the Altmer man moved quite slowly, as if he were deliberately choosing each step before he took it.

"So tell me more about your boss," Teresa said as she buckled her arrow case around her waist, "Why does he want this Ayleid stuff so much?"

"My master is a man of great refinement and scholarly achievement," Lurkos replied without turning his head to look at her, "the Ayleids are of a particular and most singular personal interest to him, as you will see."

The butler would say no more as he led Teresa through the streets of the Elven Gardens district. This was the first time the wood elf had ventured beyond the Market district since the Daedra had attacked. Everywhere she looked her eyes were greeted with the same scenes however. Doors and windows were smashed, and dark stains from what she knew to be blood marred the streets and walls. People looked dazed, their clothing torn and bloody as they went about the work of rebuilding. Everyone was quiet and reserved, in mourning for the dead.

In time Lurkos brought her to the heart of the Talos Plaza district, where a statue of a roaring dragon loomed in the central square. The rim of the plaza was lined with great manors of stone that loomed high overhead, but none as grand as the spire of White Gold Tower which floated in the sky behind them.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v90/subrosa_florens/oblivion/Oblivion150.jpg

This place seemed barely disturbed, Teresa thought. There were no broken windows or doors, although many of them appeared to be much newer than the stones in which they were set. There were still stains of blood in the streets, but even as she looked on people clad in simple working clothes were busy scrubbing them away.

Lurkos did not pause as he led Teresa through the plaza and directly to one of the manors. Producing a large key from one of his pockets as he reached the front door, he deftly inserted it into the lock and opened it with a clanking of mighty tumblers falling into place. That one must be quite a challenge to pick, Teresa could not help but to think as he motioned her inside.

The room within was nothing short of magnificent. The walls were hung with velvet and brocade tapestries, and the stone floors lined with thick, soft carpets. Display cases lined the walls, revealing all manner of weapons, armor, gemstones, and even clothing, all of which looked very strange to Teresa's eyes, as if they were from some bygone era. Most stunning of all was the chandelier that hung from the center of the high vaulted ceiling. It was not lit by candles, but rather by glowing white crystals of a kind she had only seen once before; in the Ayleid ruin of Vilverin.

An Orc dressed in gleaming ebony armor and carrying an ornately carved longsword stood beside the entrance, and a moment later Teresa noticed his partner at the other side of the door. Neither said a word to her, they merely stared with hard, cold eyes as Lurkos led her across the room and up the staircase to the second floor.

Teresa was not disappointed with the upper floor, whose hallway was lined with more silks and decorated with paintings of mighty, yet graceful, white buildings. Teresa had seen their kind before, yet never in one piece. They were Ayleid, she knew. She had seen their ruins many times as she explored the forest, and had been within the one at Vilverin. She wondered if the artifacts in the entry room below were also Ayleid.

Lurkos came to a mahogany door and knocked twice, then paused for nearly half a minute before opening it a crack and looking within. As if he were given some signal, he then pushed the door completely open and stepped inside, motioning Teresa to follow.

"My Lord Umbacano," he stated gravely, standing as if a legionary at attention, "I bring you the Bosmer Teresa as you desired."

Teresa found herself in a study that was decorated with the same opulence as the rest of the manor. The walls were lined with bookshelves inlaid with decorative leaves that she could swear were gold. Display cases hosted more strange artifacts, including many of the shining green stones she had gathered from Vilverin. What had Lurkos called them back at Jensine's, she pondered, Welkynd Stones?

Her eyes quickly noticed a row of marble pedestals lining one wall, all of which were empty except one. Without thinking, she found herself walking into the room to look more closely at it. Upon it sat the same curious statue that she had discovered at the heart of Vilverin. Made of some red metal which she could not identify, it consisted of four needlelike spines that ran vertically from a wide base. The four were linked by a series of horizontal spars to a fifth spine that rose in the center of the statue. That fifth spine was not comprised of the same metal as the rest of the statue, but rather seemed to be of purple crystal.

Within its depths she could see some kind of swirling energy, much as she had seen within the heart of the Amulet of Kings. Only the statue did not give her the warm, comfortable feeling that the amulet had. Rather it felt cold and harsh, even when just looking at it now and not holding it she had that impression. Teresa still had no idea what it was. She had taken it simply because it looked valuable.

"Ah yes, I have been so looking forward to this..." a man's voice snapped Teresa from musings.

She turned to see an Altmer man dressed in brocade rising from a desk that was carved from what appeared to be a single massive crystal that glowed with an inner light. He was tall, as all high elves were, but nowhere near the towering height of Lurkos. His brown hair was carefully sculpted into a peak at the top of his head, and his eyes seemed to be of sparkling emerald as they bored into her. What she really noticed was the paleness of his skin however, easily as white as her own.

"It is lovely is it not?" he said as he walked to her side and gestured at the statue, "one of the ten great Ancestors. All of my life I have longed to have one in my collection, and now thanks to you it is so."

"Ancestors?" Teresa asked, feeling more and more uncomfortable with every step he took closer to her. Given his eyes and skin, a part of her thought they might be siblings. His hair was even the same color as her own, before she had dyed it red. The only real difference was the fact that he was an Altmer and she Bosmer. Yet in spite of their similarities, she had a nagging feeling of danger, as if she were walking across a bridge whose boards might give way at any moment.

"Yes, there were ten of them." he said smoothly, casually laying a hand on the small of Teresa's back. It took an extreme effort of will for her to restrain herself from jumping. Something about his touch made her feel like it were the hand of a scorpion, rather than a Mer.

"They were created by the Ayleids long ago," he continued, turning to look in her eyes, "it was after the fall of the White Gold Tower and the sack of our beautiful city, but before the final conquests of Alessia and her descendants. They are objects of great artistic and historical value, like nothing else ever created. Some might say the Ancestors were the Ayleids last, great working before leaving this world."

Teresa did not like the way he said 'our city', as if here were one of the Ayleids himself rather than a high elf. Nor did she like the feeling of his hand, or the burning intensity in his green eyes. She stepped away to free herself of his touch, making a show of looking closer at the statue, and instantly felt better.

Had she imagined her unease? she wondered. No, she thought as she looked back at the Altmer. There was something not right about him, something very odd. Yet she could not put her finger on what it was, beyond his very obvious physical similarities with herself.

She shook her head. What was she thinking? she chided herself. So what if he was a little strange and never got out in the sun much? Everyone knew rich people were eccentric, she thought. It came from having all that money and nothing to do.

"I am so glad to finally meet you Teresa," the Altmer said behind her. "Ever since my purchasing agent in Cheydinhal discovered the Ancestor at Borba gra-Uzgash's shop I have greatly desired to meet the person who reclaimed it from the shadows of the past. You must be a very resourceful woman indeed."

"Your man Lurkos tells me that you have a business proposition for me?" she asked, thinking about all the money he plainly had and trying not to look in his eyes.

"Why yes, yes indeed," Umbacano went on, "given that you have clearly displayed yourself to be suited for the task, I would like for you to recover the remaining nine Ancestors and bring them to me. This is an errand I will compensate you most generously for."

"How generously?" Teresa asked, her eyes narrowing as she studied the man. Just how badly did he want these statues? she wondered.

"One thousand gold Septims for each Ancestor," he stated evenly.

"One thousand!" Teresa tried not to stammer. She could not even imagine what that much money looked like, let alone actually having it. Borba had only given her two hundred Septims. Now she wished she had known about Umbacano first!

"Do we have an arrangement then?" Umbacano asked with a smile. From the smug look on his face, Teresa could see that he already knew her answer.

:read: This story seemed different. I hesitate to say better, because all your stories are so very good. Just different and beautifully done. I was impressed particularly by two things.

Firstly, your rich use of description. I believe I could smell the rich, old stateliness of Umbaccano's manor and hear a creak or two from the steps as Teresa went upstairs. I was there.

Secondly, the dialogue. More specifically, Teresa's internal dialogue during her discussion with Umbaccano. Again, I was there, feeling what Teresa was feeling.

:whisper: Did you mean to use the word 'within' here? 'Within thinking, she found herself walking into the room?'

If totally immersing your reader is a good measure of a successful story, this was truly wonderful! :rock:

Thank you for the catch there. I meant "Without thinking", not "within".

I did try to lay on the detail of Umbacano Manor. I really wanted to convey his wealth and power not to mention his hobby. I am glad it showed through.

I also forgot to put in a screenshot that I had been planning to use. It is in there now. I may go back and redo some of my screenshots now that I have new monitor and higher screen resolution.

Just as Acadian says- different- and excellent. You make Umbacano wonderfully creepy, as he should be... He comes across as almost vampiric, and clearly someone who has managed to use his wealth to get what he wants. The description of the manor house and the spider that lurks at its center would seem right at home alongside The House of Usher...

ETA- Meant to comment also on the ongoing "grittiness" of the descriptions- Teresa's awareness (from first-hand experience) of the economic and social differences. And you manage it with ease and skill.

Your inner dialogue was amazing! Really in depth - but subtle so the reader doesn't even realize what they are absorbing! Awesome, as usual !!

Changing gears to a more immersive, descriptive, and lengthy (there goes the 1000 word per post Rosa! ) type of writing is not easy to do, yet you've carried it off. :clap:

And now...

MORE PLEASE!!

(Yes, we are gluttons. And it's all YOUR fault!!!)

Simply magnificient. :liplick:

Your choice to contrast the description of the battle clean up with the haughty indifference of the Altmer was so delicious, it was almost indescribable.
I also enjoyed the impact of the battle on the IC. Yes, the living mourn and the slain stay dead. That is the reality of war.

Beautiful description of the manor (as others have already said). Another string to your magnificient ebony bow of writing has been put on display for us.
Dont let Teresa show it to Umbacano, he will demand that it goes into the display case as well !!!

treydog: Thank you. I was definitely going for ominous with Umbacano. I never really liked how he seemed kind of a doofus in the game. Now I am starting to imagine him being voiced by Vincent Price...


mALX1: Thank you. That scene had a lot going on in it that was beneath the surface, which I could only bring out through Teresa's thoughts.


D.Foxy: Thank you.

I am used to lengthy writing. I not writing these in the length of the posts you see on the forum. I write an entire chapter at a time, just as I wrote Not A Hero all in one shot. For example, the last three posts are all one chapter of 3,500 words written at once. I have the next two chapters completed as well, as the three were all originally a single chapter which I broke up into separate ones after my first draft. I only post a little bit of each at a time to make it less intimidating to read, 1,000 words or so seems to be a comfortable length given the feedback I have had. This last post was longer, but only because there was not a good point to break within it. I could make 8,000 word posts if I really wanted to (but I do not think anyone would like that).


Winter Wolf: Thank you WW. I am glad you noticed the juxtaposition between the carnage in the streets to the serene indifference of Umbacano. As far as he behaves, the day was no different from any other. It shows how much he cares for the rest of the people in the city... We will be seeing more the mer cost of the struggle in the next chapter.

Chapter 3a - Aftermath


Teresa left Umbacano Manor feeling slightly lightheaded. Nine thousand Septims! she imagined, what might that buy? She could get a home for Simplicia and herself, and not some ramshackle hovel in the Waterfront either, but somewhere nice like the Elven Gardens or even Talos Plaza. There would be plenty left over for fancy new clothes, jewelry, and gourmet food. They might even live in the Tiber Septim Hotel for the rest of their lives!

Her daydreams of wealth did not last for long however, as she found her feet had taken her to the Temple District instead of back to Jensine's shop. Ever since she had heard the news of Martin Septim's sacrifice in the great battle there she had wanted to see it. Having been the one to smuggle the Amulet of Kings to Jauffre, she had felt strangely connected to him, and of course to his father Uriel.

What if she had insisted that she help after she gave the amulet to Jauffre? Would things have turned out differently? Teresa wondered. Or would Martin ? Saint Martin as he was already being called ? still be dead?

No, Jauffre would have never allowed it, she knew. For all that he was nice to her, he would have never let her near the new Emperor. Not with her being a street urchin and refugee from prison. Heroes did not come from back alleys and shantytowns, she thought, and they did not think of stealing a loaf of bread when the deliveryman came by. Whatever she was, whatever she had become since meeting the Emperor, it was certainly not a hero!

She found the Temple District was a stark contrast to the Talos Plaza. Here she could see buildings broken and smashed into piles of rubble. Massive stone blocks lay scattered across the district, as if thoughtlessly cast aside by giants. The roads had been cleared enough to let carts pass back and forth. Yet there were still bodies of all varieties sprawled in pools of dried blood in the wreckage, crows and rats picking them over in a gruesome feast.

Clustered around the Temple of the One itself were row upon row of people lying in the street. Some were covered in blankets and had makeshift pillows thrust beneath their heads. Others were merely stretched out over the bare stone. Most were heavily bandaged or otherwise showed signs of terrible injuries. Some were missing limbs, others she could see suffered from burns as priests and priestesses changed their bandages, revealing their savaged flesh underneath the cloth. A cacophony of groans and occasional screams rose into the air, and Teresa felt her stomach churn. She was not sure what was worse, looking at the carnage, or the knowledge that she could do absolutely nothing to help.

The Temple itself lay in ruins. The remnants of its walls were blackened from fire, and its massive dome was simply gone, as if some great blade had chopped off the entire top of the structure. Rising above its broken walls was a statue of a massive dragon, its leathery wings stretching out high into the sky overhead. Its serpentine head reared back on a long, sinuous neck, and its jaws were open wide in what might have been a roar of triumph.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v90/subrosa_florens/oblivion/Oblivion159.jpg

Aside from the Imperial Palace and White Gold Tower, the Temple of the One was the largest, most imposing building Teresa had ever seen in her life. A single granite block from its walls was larger than a wagon. Teresa gaped, wondering what in the world could have smashed it as if was nothing but a child's toy?

She knew the answer of course, Mehrunes Dagon, the Daedric Lord of Destruction.

Teresa's gaze fell down to the flagstones of the street upon which she stood. Most of the people who had been here two days ago were dead now, she thought, or were stretched out around the temple in bodies that were shattered like glass. If she had been standing here rather than in Jensine's she would be dead too, she knew. Her body shook at the thought as she looked around at the corpses and the maimed. There but for the grace of the Nine, she would be too?

She felt the urge to bolt rise within her. Yet something drove her feet onward, past the rows of maimed survivors and into the broken shell of the Temple of the One itself. She did not really know why, some morbid curiosity perhaps, or maybe a sense of duty to the Emperor and his son Martin. All she did know was that she had to see it all.

Teresa gasped when she set her eyes upon the interior. She had been within the temple once, years ago. It had been the most awe-inspiring thing she had ever seen, with its massive dome seeming to float in the air overhead. The walls had been of shining marble inlaid with gold, silver, and gemstones. Even the floor had been polished to such a high sheen that she had been able to see her reflection in it. Most incredible of all had been the dragonfire burning in the central atrium, a brilliant yellow flame that blazed with no fuel, a fire that did not consume, but rather radiated light and warmth.

Now it was all gone, the dome, the polished marble, precious metals, even the divine fire, only shattered and blackened stones remained to whisper the tale of what had once stood. That, and the titanic dragon that now loomed in the center of the temple.

Even though the roof of the temple was gone, the great dragon's wings cast its interior in shadow. Now Teresa could see that its body was supported by slender legs, if something as wide as tree trunks could be called slender, while an equally thick tail snaked out behind it. The entire thing barely fit within the walls of the temple, it was so huge.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v90/subrosa_florens/oblivion/Oblivion161.jpg

"Akatosh..." Teresa whispered, staring up at the statue in wonder.

"Aye, Akatosh, that is him," a familiar voice came from behind her ear. Teresa turned to see a Redguard she had not met since her escape from the Imperial Prison. He wore the silver and gold armor of a Blade, as dented and torn as she remembered Volsinius' had been after the battle. A curved Akaviri katana rode at his left hip, and he carried a battered helmet tucked under one arm.

"Baurus!" Teresa exclaimed in surprise. Part of her wanted to throw her arms around him, but another part of her flinched at the idea. He was still a member of the Legion after all. She did manage a faint smile as she looked on his worn and tired face however.

"Teresa? is that you?" he asked, appearing to be as surprised as she was, "Jauffre said your hair was red when he met you, but I had no idea it was you standing here!"

"Yes, I colored it," Teresa said, running one hand through her red tresses, "is Jauffre here too?"

Baurus shook his head and looked down at his feet. Teresa knew what that meant, and now she did lay a comforting hand upon the Blade's armored shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she said, and was surprised to find that she genuinely meant it too, "when?"

"The other day, in the battle," Baurus sighed, now looking back up at her. His voice sounded tired, but worse, his gaze seemed hollow. When she had first met Baurus in the prison he had fire in his eyes, like Volsinius did. Now he seemed like an empty shell of a man.

"What happened?" Teresa asked, "where is the new Emperor? No one says just what happened to him."

"That is him, right there," Baurus said, pointing at the statue of the great dragon, "he released the dragonfire within the Amulet of Kings and mixed it with his own dragonblood, becoming Akatosh's avatar. I saw it all right in front of my eyes. He tore Mehrunes Dagon to shreds and sealed our world off from Oblivion forever. But when the battle was over he turned to stone, for no mortal can contain the power of a god, not for long.

Teresa could not help but to gape as she stared at the great dragon. That was really Martin Septim, she thought, the son of Uriel Septim, who had been in her thoughts so often since she had met him!

Some people choose poorly. Some choose to be something better. The words of the late Emperor rose from Teresa's memories. Martin had been his father's son, that was for certain, she thought. He had chosen well. He had given his life for her, and for everyone in Nirn.

Her eyes fell to her hands, which had held the Amulet of Kings not so long ago. At the time she had thought it was merely a means to prove Martin the rightful heir. Now from what Baurus said both it and Martin had been their very salvation from the Daedric hordes; a salvation that she had carried past the enemy to Jauffre, so that he could in turn entrust it to Martin.

"Grandmaster!" Teresa's brief reverie was broken by the voice a boy in his teens. He was wearing bright velvet, and ran up to Baurus to hand him a note, "with the compliments of my Lord Ocato."

Baurus muttered a word of thanks to the messenger and looked down at the parchment. A frown grew on his face, and a moment later he crumpled it beneath his fist.

"I have to go," he sighed as he looked back up at Teresa, "I wish we had more time"

"Grandmaster?" Teresa's mind boggled, "You're the..."

"Yes," Baurus' frown only grew when Teresa mentioned the title, "everyone else is dead. Look, I have to get back to the palace, come by in a few days and we can talk."

Teresa's head spun as she watched Baurus walk away. He was the new Grandmaster of the Blades! She had not even had time to congratulate him. Sure, he had said to come see him, as if she normally made trips to the Imperial Palace! The guards there would probably throw her back in prison after taking one look at her! she thought.

Still, it had made her feel better to meet him again. Somehow she felt a strange bond with the Redguard. She wished he could have stayed longer. Yet at the same time seeing him look so worn was disturbing. He did not seem at all happy with his promotion. Coming only because of Jauffre's death, it was no wonder.

Worse, Baurus had seen two Emperors die in front of his eyes, Teresa thought, and he had been sworn to protect them both. She knew how having to see Uriel Septim die made her feel, how much worse would she feel if it had been Martin as well?

Once again, she wondered if she should have remained behind with Jauffre at Weynon, and insisted to be part of the battle that followed. Would anything have happened differently? Would Martin still be alive, or Jauffre? Or would she really just be one more anonymous corpse like all the others scattered across the district?

What of Jensine? Teresa asked herself suddenly, not really sure where the thought had come from. Would the Nord have survived if she had not been in her shop when the attack happened? Would Volsinius have lived? Or Simplicia? Probably not, she realized.

Teresa knew that she was not a hero, not like Martin Septim or his father Uriel had been. But maybe, just maybe, she thought that she might be able to do some good in spite of all her failings.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v90/subrosa_florens/oblivion/Oblivion162.jpg

:read: My goodness. Quite simply beautiful. The powerful effect of this story in total is amazing. So very well done!

I was struck during the early and mid portions of the story at, once again, your ability to weave together such detailed descriptions with Teresa's internal dialogue and thoughts. Once again, you brought us completely into the Imperial City as well as allowed us to eavesdrop on Teresa's thoughts.

The latter part of the story that included dialogue with Baurus was equally as immersive. I think there are few of us who do not admire Baurus, and I was pleased to see you present him as you did.

The choices you make regarding what and how to put in and what to leave out are amazing.

I hope Teresa's feet continue to take her places that generate even more faint smiles. -_-

WOW! :rock:

And what else is a hero but a person who does the best she can with what she has and is? Again, you draw the reader in with your beautifully-described scenes of the Imperial City, seen through Teresa's eyes. Your Baurus is also perfectly realized- a man who feels that he has failed, not once- but twice, but who still will soldier on. And I wonder if your story will explore the unexplained mysteries that seem to surround the death of Uriel and the rise to power of Ocato....

You packed a ton of information into this chapter! The descriptions of the Temple District after the battle were perfect, you caught Baurus's personality to a T, (Big T Treydog!) - Amazing chapter!!!!!!

Very polished writing Teresa, ahhh, sorry, SubRosa.
The incredible way you seemlessly wove the internal thoughts into this story made me forget who was who. Sorry.

I would love to be able to write like this. Please excuse me while I take some notes.....

I'm in awe.... wonderfully written!

Acadian: Thank you. I worked hard on the descriptions for this chapter. I had to redo them several times, because when I first wrote it I had not finished the main quest yet. After I did I went back and had to change many things so that I could use the screenshots I took of the aftermath. Likewise with Baurus. He was not originally in the chapter at all. Instead his part (the explainer of what had happened to Martin) was originally being done by a nameless priest. It was not until a later draft that I decided to replace him with Baurus. I am glad I did, because seeing characters like him, Simplicia, and Vols, provide strong pieces of continuity with Not A Hero. Expect to see more characters from Not A Hero making appearances in future chapters.

Plenty more faint smiles coming up, and some really large ones in what I am working on right now...


treydog: Teresa will probably never think of herself as being heroic, for many reasons. Not the least is her upbringing by Simplicia and the environment she grew up in, but also because thanks to the Septims she has very unrealistic ideas of what heroism is.

Ahh, the conspiracy theories about Ocato surface once more. What no one seems to pay attention to is the real spider in the center of the web, Baurus. Yes, the bodyguard who was somehow unlucky enough to have two Emperors die on his watch, all while not having a scratch upon himself. Very convenient. Also how fortuitous for him that the Grandmaster of the Blades would die with him, again, right by his side, leaving him the successor. When you throw in those incriminating pictures he has of Ocato and Hieronymus Lex sharing their forbidden love in the guard tower, it becomes very plain who is really pulling the strings in the darkened recesses of the Imperial Palace...


mALX1: Thank you. Those descriptions were very difficult to make.


Winter Wolf: I spend a lot of time internal-dialoging myself, so I suppose it comes naturally by now!


RemkoNL: Thank you Remko, the best is yet to come!

Chapter 3b - Aftermath


Teresa sighed and started walking, needing to escape from the temple and what remained of Martin Septim. She had not originally intended to, but seeing as she was already in the Temple District, she made the relatively short trip through the tunnel to the Waterfront.

For the first time in her life she was pleasantly surprised to find the same old Waterfront she was used to when she emerged from the tunnel and back into the light of day. There were no signs of fire, no buildings damaged, not even a stone turned over. The docks were filled with ships loading and unloading cargo as if it were any other day, while the usual assortment of vagabonds and ruffians prowled the streets beyond.

It was on the dock outside of the ship that was also the Bloated Float Inn that Teresa saw a familiar dark-haired Bosmer. Teresa waved, and the leather-clad wood elf smiled in reply as she walked over to meet her. Moments later the two met with a hug, much to the amusemant of the deckhands unloading the nearest ship, given their catcalls.

"Methredhel!" Teresa cried, "I am so glad you are alright!"

"Teresa, it is so good to see you again!" the other wood elf grinned, pausing only a moment to make a rude gesture at the deckhands, "I thought you would be running around the forest? When did you get back to the city?"

"Two days ago," Teresa replied, disengaging herself from the grasp of her friend.

"You mean you were here when..." Methredhel's expression fell like a stone, "where were you? Here on the Waterfront I hope?"

"I was in the Market District, with Simplicia," Teresa breathed.

"Oh no!" Methredhel gasped, putting her arms around Teresa once more and holding her tight, "thank the Gods you are alright! What about Simplicia? I saw the Temple District this morning and could not believe it! Is it like that everywhere?"

"She's fine," Teresa said as Methredhel let go of her, "it was the worst at the Temple. The rest of the city got off lucky, if you can call it that."

"I see you are out of arrows though," the other Bosmer noted, glancing down at the quiver at Teresa's hip, "and your armor has looked better. Did you try to cook it?"

"No, but something tried to cook me. I still have one arrow left though," Teresa smiled faintly, touching the red feathers at the end of its shaft.

"It was that bad then?" Methredhel asked.

Teresa nodded, looking around the Waterfront once more.

"Things seem to have been ok here though," she observed, "was anyone hurt?"

"Oh no, we never saw a single Daedra," Methredhel explained, "Some people say they were afraid we would rob them! But I guess being so cut off from the rest of the city was a good thing for once"

Teresa nodded. The Waterfront and its attendant shantytown were the ugly little secret of the Imperial City. Tucked away out of sight beyond the city walls and only accessible via a wide tunnel through the rock of the island, it was where the dregs of society were cast off like garbage. The place she had called home for years, Teresa thought.

"Do you need more arrows?" Methredhel asked, "I can spare some. My guess is that you are not going to be able to find new ones to buy for a while."

"I do! but I have to get back," Teresa said, turning her head back in the direction of the city, "I left Simplicia all alone to work in the shop, and I have to get back to help before she kills me."

"Simplicia... work?" Methredhel's voice showed amusemant as she cocked an eyebrow in surprise, "and you too?"

"Oh, we're helping clean up Jensine's place is all, it was wrecked." Teresa said with a shrug of her shoulders. She jogged down the dock back to the city and turned to wave over her shoulder. "Come by tomorrow and see!"

The above passage is just priceless! Not as a thigh slapper, but in as an understated element of humorous truth. Brilliant!


This story was a delightful... the word that comes to mind is, respite. It was wonderful to see the light of day without creepy Umbaccano. Or daedra trying to tear down doors and eat / burn poor Teresa. After your last sequence of powerful stories, this was very welcome with its lighter touches of real, normal life. Almost like another day down on the docks.

Very immersive. :goodjob:

Oh no, we never saw a single Daedra," Methredhel explained, "Some people say they were afraid we would rob them!

Me too... I gigglesnorted when I read that!

Too bad your touch is the understated style, Rosa. Now, me I would have taken that idea and ran with it, like -

" Some people said they were afraid we would rob them and send them back to Ole Dagon naked with begging bowls" or something...

:lol:

Trademark SubRosa writing- spare, elegant, and meaningful. One of your great talents is the ability to set the scene and create an atmosphere with a very few words. What I find interesting is Teresa's desire to re-connect with her earlier life- and of course, her friend. Why do I feel there may be a Thomas Wolfe moment looming on her horizon?

Brilliant- as ever.

Yes indeed. Huge set piece battles are one thing, but writing about ordinary life and making it 'hit' is something else entirely.
Our SubRosa does it with ease. :twirl: