Buffy the Bowgirl, Book 1, Thread 1, Do You Know the Way to Kvatch? Options

[Acadian]

Welcome to the adventures of Buffy the Bowgirl!

My name is Acadian. Buffy is an elven mystic archer that I have the pleasure to travel Tamriel with.

This is Book 1 of her journal. It begins with Buffy being briefly incarcerated in the Imperial Prison, and ends as she attempts to bring freedom to the city of Kvatch. It is a sprawling story that will require 176 episodes, spread over five threads. Appropriately, I have nicknamed Book 1, 'Do You Know the Way to Kvatch?'

Buffy's personal journey is more important than her destination. Our writing style is character-driven. I help Buffy write her journal because I have a truckload of passion for her, not because I am a writer. We take plenty of liberties with quests and NPCs, but only few liberties with game mechanics because there is an aspect of 'how to / mystic archer guide' woven into her stories. Therefore, we tend to eschew earthly things and stick rather closely to Nirnian physics. In Buffy's world for example, a skilled archer can 'zoom in' on her target and cause her enemies to 'turn green' with poison. Buffy has never been to medieval Europe or ancient Rome, and her world does not resemble those places.

I thank you so much, should you find our humble effort earns and maintains your readership. My hope is that Buffy will worm her way into your heart, as she has mine.

Edit: Buffy has completed this book as of August 2012, and I would like to think that the reading of it is a satisfying experience - both complete as well as suggestive of sequels. For those newer readers who would like to catch up to us in one short sitting, you might find this helpful: Buffy – The Executive Summary Thread.

This post has been edited by Acadian: Oct 28 2012, 12:33 PM

[Acadian]

In Chapter 10.2, Buffy paused during her Skingrad Mages Guild recommendation and met an intriguingly charming alchemist, familiar with nirnroot. Based on his suggestion, Buffy spoke to the statue of King Rislav the Righteous and learned a new ability.

The 'Call of Corsair' does not exist in game of course. It is an invented ability, and the battle described is based loosely on the lore of King Rislav. In fact, it is simply Buffy invoking 'fast travel' for the very limited purpose of teleporting Superian to Buffy's present map marker location. It is also a new feature, not in her original story.

I am finding that quite a few of Buffy's original chapters lack the rich detail that we now prefer. I hope you will bear with us as we find it necessary to continue enriching and revising more than I had anticipated. I still expect that the further we progress into her story, the less revising will be required. Related to that, I will also abandon efforts to try and have the chapter numbers match those of the previous version. Moving forward, each episode or post will get its own chapter number.

While I'm indulging in author's notes, let me say to all, how much Buffy and I appreciate the warm support and encouragement we receive. It means so very much to us.

Rider- In this case, the name Corsair came to me by way of Naval aviation. Both my father and I spent our long careers as Marine Corps pilots. Although my need for speed was fulfilled by the F-4 Phantom, the beautiful F-4U Corsair was the first winged love of Acadian Sr. The F4-U Corsair is WWII vintage and probably most popularly known as the steed of Greg (Pappy) Boyington and his Black Sheep squadron, VMF-214. For a time, the Navy flew an attack jet named the A7 Corsair. I think the name lends itself beautifully to its original ship references, as well as aircraft and horses.

Thank you so much for your wonderful ideas that we have amplified by PM. As you could tell, both Buffy and Superian were both upset by the disorientation that sudden teleport caused the mare. Thanks to your help, Buffy has plans to fix that very soon! I so appreciate the gracious guidance of our own Andalusian Angel of Dressage!

SubRosa- You miss nothing, my friend! Buffy's ability to call Superian from great distance was introduced earlier in the previous version, but without the more creative backstory. I'm so glad you liked it. I expect the commander of your Bravil Fighters Guild branch would be familiar with the name Corsair.

Yes, this was also the first of many references to Buffy's drink of choice! Thank you for catching my editorial oversight.

Olen- I too, have always liked Sinderion, and was delighted that he captivated Buffy as well. Thank you.

Zerker- Thanks! The 'you don't look like a mage' theme will continue into this next episode. Poor Buffy seems to be the only mage with a bow in the game.

Foxy- I've been saving that screenshot for you, just waiting for the perfect opportunity. I'm so glad you like it as much as I do!

Wolf- I'm delighted that, with Call of Corsair, we could introduce a small but new aspect into BF 2.0 for Buffy's supportive Aussie mate. There will be a few additional new twists and features ahead. Ahah, I see you remain well familiar with Buffy's challenges at organizing and limiting what she lugs around.

Destri- Given your own rich mastery of it, I'm so glad you liked our humble foray into lore. I really wrestled with a creative way to frame this limited use of fast travel, that is really key to keeping Superian close to Buffy. Without it, she would feel obliged to leave Superian stabled much more, for the mare's own safety. Buffy may traverse some hazardous overland stretches without Superian, but will always join with the mare as soon as possible when she reaches a suitable waypoint. Call of Corsair, plus lots of detect life equipment, and a walk on water spell (Buffy will get those things later) really makes horse travel a pleasure for them.

* * *

11 Bleak Flats Cave

The short trek north from Skingrad was uneventful. Red, yellow and blue flowers sparkled with morning dew as I gathered much flax seed from them. I knew I could combine it with other simple ingredients like the caps of steel-blue entoloma to make potions that could quickly restore magical energy. Better alchemists than I, like Ardaline, could even grind it up with potato to make potions that protected like armor. I also found some more nightshade and peony, handy for combining into simple poisons.

The nearby creeping vines had not claimed the old wooden door to Bleak Flats Cave, thereby suggesting its recent use. I unshouldered my bow, reminded myself to keep that detect life spell active and quietly slipped inside. Before proceeding further, I allowed a moment for my eyes to adjust. Crevices in the rocky ceiling allowed the occasional stray beam of dusty sunlight to pierce the darkness. My nose wrinkled at the faint, but unmistakable smell of deteriorating flesh. The skin of my bare arms and legs grew tiny bumps in response to the cool, damp air. Perhaps leathers might have been a better choice than my Arena raiment for this.

I had crept only a short ways when the pink glow appeared. It looked humanoid, but moved in an oddly stiff manner. I eased a little closer and let my spell lapse briefly.

As the glow faded, the form of what used to be a man or mer stood before me, draped in discolored rotting flesh. I selected a poison and reached into my quiver. The zombie jerked from the arrow's impact, but I saw no sign that my poison affected him. To make matters worse, by shooting from close range, I had compromised my hidden position. As he staggered towards me, I quickly loosed a second arrow and nocked a third as I rapidly started backing up. He fell at my feet, from the third arrow. I exhaled loudly and waited for my pounding heart to slow.

Well, that didn't go so well. I tried to keep track of who was immune to poison. Bravil's Priest of Mara, Uravasa Othrelas, had warned City Swimmer and I that the ghosts found in our chapel's undercroft could not be poisoned. City Swimmer had joked that perhaps the spirits were Argonian, since her whole race was immune to poison. I had learned about skeletons myself. Zombies needed to go on that list too. I wondered if maybe all undead were immune to my poisons?

I learned another lesson here. There was a fine line between a smooth, elegant, kill and scrambling in terror. Could I have engaged that zombie from longer range? Yep. Why didn't I? Squirming a little, I couldn't figure out a way to blame Acadian for this, so I had to admit it was because I got lazy and overconfident. Learn anything, Buffy? I hope so. Recasting my spell, I took a deep breath and snuck deeper into the cave.

I worked hard to use maximum range, not hesitating to back up some, or even sneaking to a point beyond the target to increase the distance of my shots. I would shoot from a corner and sneak out of sight even as my arrow was still in the air. Not perfect, but I was able to extinguish the glows of four more zombies scattered around the cave as I methodically progressed. Several times, I was able to shoot one of them more than once without being detected. When they did charge, my extra distance and their slow speed allowed me to get off the arrows I needed before they could reach me.

At the end of the tunnel now ahead of me, was a small cavern containing two zombies close enough to kiss each other (ugh). I could only get a medium range shot. Now what? I readied a spell and loosed an arrow. Sure enough, a wounded zombie and his healthy friend charged. My right hand spiked the air, and I watched my arm disappear as a shroud of magic descended over me. Quietly, I slipped into a small space between two stalagmites and the stone wall. The zombies, with their peculiar rigid gait, searched in vain. Finally they gave up and toddled back to their cavern. I nocked an arrow.

After repeating this process a couple more times, one of the zombies surrendered his pink glow. I was sure his friend was also wounded.

An arrow to his chest, followed by another as he raised his arms and lurched towards me, dropped the seventh of these undead beings. How many more were down here and where was this missing mage, Erthor?

I lit a torch and approached the bodies. The feathered shafts of several of my arrows protruded from each, while my own quiver was light. Combating nausea, I went about the gruesome task of cutting into the twice dead flesh to free my arrows. After cleaning and inspecting them, several were able to rejoin those in my quiver. Before I doused the torch, I noted a small opening at the end of the chamber, the only unexplored path.

After a few moments my eyes had readjusted to the darkness. I slipped into the tunnel, wrapped myself in the comforting shadows of the cold rock walls, and continued deeper into the cave. As another vertical life sign began to glow ahead, I stopped. I was encouraged to see this one moving about smoothly, instead of awkwardly staggering like the animated corpses I had encountered so far. I hoped it was Erthor. As I crept closer, a small cavern appeared at the end of this corridor, allowing an unobstructed view of the glowing life force. I let the pink haze fade. The Bosmer was softly illuminated by two flickering torches that had been wedged between cracked sections of the stone wall.

The last stranger I had encountered in such a dark place full of undead was a necromancer, deep in the bowels of Vilverin, who would have killed me had I not been prepared. Although I was pretty sure the elf ahead was my missing guild mate, I figured a girl can't be too careful. After mentally rehearsing the magic to summon my green swirling cobra, I set an arrow to the nock and partially drew the silk bowstring. With the broad head tip of my arrow directed at the ground, I took a deep breath and stepped out of the shadows. "Hail, I'm from the guild. Are you Erthor?"

"Are they gone? All of them? Yes, I'm Erthor. Who are you? I've been too scared to leave since those walking dead moved in here. Are you here to rescue me?" The dark haired Bosmer with saucer eyes finally shut up for a moment.

"Yes, my name is Buffy. Well met, Erthor." I quivered the arrow. "Adrienne sent me, and I want you to come back to the guild with me. Oh, and yes, all the zombies are dead."

"Thank you, Buffy! Thank you so much! But you don't look like a mage."

Again, the 'don't look like a mage' stuff! I shouldered the bow, lifted my chin and planted both hands on my hips. "Would you like to wait for someone who looks like a mage?"

"Oh no!" Erthor gasped. "I-I meant no offense. Don't leave me. Please."

"Follow me then." I grabbed a burning torch from the wall and began to retrace my steps toward the cave's exit.

"Thank you again," Erthor chirped. "You're not from Skingrad are you? Is Adrienne mad at me? That's an awfully big bow. I'm starving. Do you know what the guild is having for dinner tonight? What kind of a name is Buffy? I'm right behind you. . . ."

The short trip back to the guild was uneventful. Erthor tagged along like a puppy, gushing his appreciation. I thought of my Bosmer mother and chuckled to myself. I could understand, perhaps, why she chose a Breton for a mate.

"Thank you for retrieving Erthor, Associate." Adrienne's tone was as if I had just delivered a copy of the Black Horse Courier instead of saving the life of one of our mages. "Raminus Polus will have my recommendation, just as soon as I get around to it."

Reminiscent of the day I met her, I watched the golden haired Breton's swirling blue gown as she swept out of the library. I wanted to like Adrienne - I envied her competency and elegance, but not her dismissively aloof manner. Perhaps she was just a very busy woman with all the responsibilities of running a guild. I was, after all, just a lowly Associate who didn't even look like a mage. As my mind flittered among the guilds I had visited so far, it came to rest upon the image of the beautiful Argonian that ran my Bravil chapter. I smiled at how lucky I was.

I treated myself to a warm bath to get the smell of decaying flesh out of my skin and hair. It felt nice to slip into a comfortable russet felt dress and slippers.

After a pleasant dinner in the guild's dining room with several of the mages, I spent the evening making ready for travel and studying my map for the next leg of our journey. All I needed were recommendations from the guilds at Kvatch, then Anvil. I wondered what things would be like at the Arcane University. It was beginning to look like I might actually get there.

Finally, I crawled into bed. Erthor's words came back to me. What's a mage supposed to look like? Giggling, I imagined what he saw. An elf wearing the Arena raiment of a blue team combatant, with a bristling quiver on her back and carrying a bow as tall as she. "Acadian, am I supposed to wear mage stuff?"

I had never sensed the slightest uncertainty or confusion from my paladin - until this moment. Intrigued, I closed my eyes and opened my mind to him.

Slowly, an image began to form. As it came into focus, I remembered getting ready to break camp one recent morning. A quiver was on my back and I was wearing leather boots, bracers, hunters pants and a short cropped vest. My bow was in my hand as I declared, "Acadian, it doesn't matter what you or anyone else wants me to wear. I don't care if you think it's too revealing or doesn't protect me well enough. Would you have me wear the iron suit of a warrior, unable to walk? Or perhaps the robes of a mage, tripping over the baggy folds? I'll wear whatever I want, whenever I want!"

After the image faded, I smiled and rolled over, ready for sleep. Tomorrow, as Superian, Acadian and I headed towards the guild at Kvatch, I would wear my Arena raiment.

This post has been edited by Acadian: Jan 16 2011, 03:50 AM