Buffy - Book 2, The Cloud Dancers of Valenwood Options

[Acadian]

Welcome to Book 2 and the continuing adventures of Buffy the Bosmeri mystic archer!

Buffy is a child of Tamriel, raised in Bravil and trained at the Arcane University. Her bigger story arc will eventually and magically cross temporal boundaries, enabling her to travel between the Third and Fourth Eras. Although Book 2 takes place in late Third Era Valenwood, Buffy's magicks and abilities reflect a blend of several games, with Skyrim being the most influential.

Near the end of Book 1, Buffy helped the man she loved, Savlian Matius, free his city of Kvatch. They were successful, but the terrible cost included Savlian's very life. It was a physically and emotionally broken bowgirl who retreated in grief and despair to her ancestral homeland. Book 2 picks up shortly thereafter and chronicles Buffy's journey of recovery and self-discovery through Valenwood.

Book 1 (in both its staggering 176 episode entirety and an executive summary conveniently distilled to 1650 words) is available in my sub forum. That said, enjoying Book 2 does not really require more information than is contained right here in these few introductory paragraphs. For those not familiar with Buffy's long history, reading the executive summary is a nice overview - but not critical for those who wish to just jump right in here. I have taken care within Book 2 to have Buffy review significant aspects of her past as they become relevant.

The Valenwood we depict will certainly be recognizable to those familiar with its lore, but I have taken some geographic and cultural liberties. While forests and jungles are plentiful, we have extended the rolling prairies of Anvil's Gold Coast across the Strid River into the northern portion of Valenwood. Among our several cultural departures from Bosmeri lore, the most significant is that there is no Green Pact in Buffy Fiction. While Bosmer certainly revere nature, they gratefully use both its flora and fauna as needed - restricted primarily by a deep revulsion to wasting nature's precious gifts. This is the same philosophy that Buffy learned as a child from her archery master, Daenlin, as described in Book 1.

Buffy's is a character-driven tale and our focus is on the journey more than the destination. I estimate that, at one episode per week, the book will take roughly six months to post. My fervent hope is that you find our humbly-offered efforts worthy of your time.

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~ Prelude ~

Episode 1

Spooked by small tremors beneath his hoofs, a young buck bolted from the moonlit meadow into the surrounding forest.

The ground’s slight quivering soon grew into a quiet rumble from deep beneath its surface. Despite the significant disturbance, it was but a tiny seedling that gently pushed aside the soil until it could unfurl into the night air. Once free, it quickly grew into a young sapling of about the same height as a person. A pair of opposing branches reached out to become arms. The trunk transformed into a feminine torso with two legs. Roots broke free from soil taking the shape of feet. Leaves grew into robes.

The resultant woman slipped her hood back upon slender shoulders, revealing olive skin and a softly featured face. Hair, the color of the loam from which she had risen, was gathered into a rather matronly low ponytail that trailed down her back. Eyes, dark as those of a doe, radiated love and compassion. She lifted her gaze and slowly rose toward the stars.

High enough in the same night sky to nearly touch Masser and Secunda there floated another robed figure. Her coloring was pale. The strong Nordic face was framed by a mane of freely flowing golden hair. Eyes the color of a bright afternoon sky carried wildness and a trace of sadness. She spread her robes into white wings and gently glided downward.

The Nirn Mother and Sky Goddess met atop a cloud and briefly embraced.

With a downward glance from Mara, a table along with three chairs grew from the cloud’s surface. “Will you do the honors, sister?”

Kynareth passed a hand over the table, causing an elegant tea service for three to appear. She looked to the east. “Do I see the slightest hint of light from the horizon?”

“I believe so,” replied Mara.

The two Divines waited quietly as they stood side-by-side, focusing their gaze eastward toward the promise of a new day.

When the grip of night could no longer restrain the sun and the earliest golden beams began to spill across the sky, a butterfly danced up over the edge of the cloud that served as tea platform. On pale green wings the tiny creature fluttered to a hover in front of the Divines.

If there was any warning or display of spellcasting, the blink of an eye would have missed it as the butterfly simply and instantly transformed into a third robed woman.

“Welcome, cousin,” said Mara.

The new arrival slipped back her hood, glanced down at the cloud vapors swirling around her feet then surveyed the scene. Unlike the white robes worn by Mara and Kynareth, the Goddess of Twilight’s robe was black, as was her severely restrained long silken hair. Emerald eyes conveyed the enigmatic blend of light and darkness that was her realm. Voluptuous ruby lips contrasted with her sharply angled cheekbones, gaunt face and creamily pale skin. Her exotic look was complemented by human-sized ears that each rose to a delicate point. “Mara, so nice to see you again. You also, Kyne. . . or is it Kynareth I understand you’re calling yourself these days?” Azura’s smile did not reach her eyes.

The two Divines, however, smiled graciously. “I am called Kynareth now. Thank you for coming. Tea?”

The three immortals sat. As Mara filled their cups, Kynareth asked, “I trust all is well in Moonshadow?”

“I believe you both know I can only leave it briefly twice a day during twilight. I presume you did not ask me here for tea and small talk?”

If the Divines took slight it did not show as Mara replied, “You are right of course, so I’ll get directly to the point. We need your help to foil Mehrunes Dagon’s pending plans of conquest.”

Azura lifted an eyebrow. “Go on.”

Mara took a deep breath. “I’m sure you realize that Dagon is only pausing after Kvatch. Now that he knows he can open portals from the Deadlands, he is doubtless engaged in the slow task of procuring and inscribing many more morpholiths into sigil stones. Meanwhile, his cultists relentlessly hunt for Martin Septim, hoping to snuff out any chance of relighting the protective Dragonfires. When Dagon has completed enough of the stones, we are sure he will unleash scores of his Daedra-spewing portals. . . no offence, mind you.”

“None taken, cousin,” Azura replied icily, “but why should I care about any of this?”

“Two reasons,” said Mara. “As Dagon opens more portals, his plague will spread across all of Tamriel, replacing your cycles of dawn and dusk with a permanent Oblivion sky.”

“Well, I concede you have a point.” Azura straightened slightly in her chair. “You mentioned a second reason that I should be concerned?”

“Yes,” stated Mara, “that brings us to an elf named Buffy who carries something we need.”

Azura’s eyes flashed concern, then anger. “What does my Slayer have to do with this?” Her tone was threateningly protective. “You Divines claim to care about mortals, yet you ignore their daily plight.” Emerald eyes glared at Kynareth with contempt. “As soon as Buffy’s mother, Marian, realized a new life grew within her, she asked you to be godmother to her child. And you ignored her.” Azura’s ire shifted to Mara as she continued. “Turning to the so called Goddess of Love, she received the same silent response. In desperation, Marian made her plea to the rising sun on the following morn. I did not ignore her.”

Azura seemed to compose herself somewhat as she lowered her cup to the table and continued, “Indeed, I was intrigued by the prospect. That I am poorly equipped for such a task did not deter me. It is my hand of faith that touched the tiny elf at the moment of her sunrise birth. I heard her first fitful, crying breaths. As I watched her grow from a distance, I confess the little urchin. . . touched something within me. I found myself often taking the innocuous form of a twilight butterfly in order to observe the mer-child more closely. The concept of love is a foreign one to my kind but, over time, I believe that is exactly what I began to feel for this young elf as I watched her stumble and scrape her knees, get teased by human children about her small size and large ears, drop her clothes at every waterhole and dance with butterflies. Sometimes she quite unknowingly even danced with me. I question whether you lofty Divines actually know what it means to love a child?”

The Goddess of Twilight clearly expected no answer as she continued, “Buffy’s bow kept her alive as she blossomed into young maturity. When she needed a means of replenishing its magic, who provided the answer in the form of an artifact that would help? I did. When love drew her toward mortal danger at Kvatch, who arranged for Lord Peryite to provide her the training needed to survive the Deadlands and fight Daedra? I did. When she prayed to each of you for comfort after her body and heart were broken mere months ago, what response did she get?” Azura’s words dripped with disdain for the pair of Divines as she answered her own question, “The same silence you gave her mother.”

“Your points are well taken, cousin,” replied Mara gently. “We Divines are skilled with creation, but our efforts to intervene directly with the affairs of mortals have led to disaster more often than not. At best, our ability to communicate directly with them is vague and tenuous. Even those who devote themselves to us in priestly service struggle to understand our intent. As a Daedra Lord, you must also realize that when you effectively claimed this child at birth, you quite fettered our already limited ability to communicate with or even influence her.”

Azura's eyes and tone softened noticeably. “I lack your skill with creation, cousins. And my passions sometimes lead to . . . regrettable results when dealing with mortals as well. But unlike you, I don’t shy from the need when it arises.”

It was Kynareth who spoke next. “It seems clear, ladies, that cooperation might be appropriate here.”

[Acadian]

In Episode 2, which concluded our Prelude, we learned that the Divines’ plan for dealing with Mehrunes Dagon involves Akatosh assuming his dragon avatar. The wyvern in the ointment here is an ancient curse levied by Kyne back in the Merethic Era after the Dragon War that prevents the appearance of all dragons - save her beloved ice dragons. It seems the only way the curse can be broken is if one of these creatures somehow once again takes to the sky. Trouble is, the only known remaining ice dragon is the spirit of Phantom who travels bound to Acadian within Buffy. The Divines have asked Azura to use her considerable skill at influencing the affairs of mortals to help break the curse.

ghastley- Thank you for your insight and kind words. I confess I did wrestle long and hard trying to blend Skyrim’s ancient Dragon War, Oblivion’s pending crisis, and Skyrim’s future return of the dragons in a way that made sense for Buffy’s story. Dragons were a big challenge - since Phantom was part of Acadian and Buffy long before TES V was even announced.

SubRosa- Thanks for picking up on the personality quirks I tried to display among the three immortals. Gosh, I’m so pleased you liked the idea of Kyne’s dragon curse and how it relates to both Oblivion and Skyrim! I’ll unabashedly confess that I attribute much of how we see Azura to Angelina Jolie’s portrayal of Maleficent in the movie of the same name – so I’m tickled as can be that you mentioned her! One of the significant decisions we wrestled with during our long sabbatical was the roles of the three immortals who appeared in the prelude. As you can see, it is Azura who emerged as a mother figure and Buffy's patron - even though Buffy doesn't yet know it.

Lopov- Thank you! I’m glad we were able to give the three immortals some personality while foreshadowing some of the bigger events to follow.

hazmick- Thanks! So all Azura has to do is arrange for an ice dragon to fly. Well, if anyone can manipulate things to make that happen, I suppose it is she.

mALX- It’s been a long time since we’ve touched on the history of Acadian and Phantom. Much of that time was spent figuring how to fit them into all the new lore that came with Skyrim in a way that made some sense. And now we know that Azura has been Buffy’s secret godmother for all her life. Poor Buffy will continue through all of Books 2 and 3 before learning the secret that we now know. Thank you!

DE- Thanks! Yes, Buffy and Mazoga are Errant Knight Sisters of the White Stallion. The Gray Prince gave up his Arena gig to become a White Stallion and the mate of Mazoga. The two orcs showed up to help Buffy and Savlian free Kvatch - where it became clear they were the champions that Martin Septim had seen in his dreams. Last time Buffy saw them, they (and Baurus the Blade) were escorting Martin from Kvatch to some secret safe place. Though Buffy will never be the champion or hero of anything, there is no denying her subtle aura of destiny that you mentioned.

~ Part 1 - Dragons Live Forever ~

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Episode 3

No sooner had I finished singing than my audience of torchbugs began to disperse.

“Buffy, that was beautiful,” remarked Acadian.

“Thank you, my paladin. For everything.”

“Your images came through perfectly, as if we were there again, astride Superian and racing alongside that herd of wild horses south of the Imperial City when you were still a student at the University." After a moment he added, "While my ability to transmit such vivid memories is only via telepathic mind link, I suppose it shouldn’t surprise me that you have developed a similar talent via your singing voice.”

"Daenlin always told me that I have my mother’s singing voice," I mused. "The ability to share what's in my heart via song seems to be a combination of Acadian telepathy and illusory magicks."

Countless stars sparkled their homage to the twin fullness of Masser and Secunda that hung above the Valenwood sky. After loosening a vine around my waist, the simple tunic fashioned from a single giant leaf I wore fell into the grass and reeds at water's edge. The leather strip restraining my ponytail followed. I then slipped into the meadow's pond. A small number of playful fish investigated while I luxuriated in a cleansing swim. It had been several months now since the terrible day that freed Kvatch but cost the life of my Savlian. The patient support of Acadian, unconditional love of Superian, and verdant greenery that teemed with life, had all helped me grow beyond self-pity.

Or so I told myself.

As I surfaced, slicked back my hair and glanced around, I smiled to see that Superian had waded out to join me. She paused where the water touched her chest for a long drink.

The mare’s head lifted sharply - water trailing from her mouth - at the sound of a wolf’s call. It was close enough that I decided to cut our bath short. I mounted Superian in the water and, as she carried me ashore, another lupine howl pierced the air. Then another. They were getting closer. While I had been distracted by the soothing waters and beautiful night, it seemed a large pack of the predators had surrounded the small meadow. Much too nervous to dismount and recover my tunic or Superian’s tack, I simply grabbed my mage satchel off the tree limb from which it hung and slipped its shoulder strap over my head and one arm. We continued cautiously closer to the middle of the meadow.

I could now hear growls and see numerous pairs of golden eyes glowing back at me from the jungle that surrounded the pond and clearing on three sides. On the fourth side, however, forest with less ground cover and greater distance between trees beckoned. I turned Superian in that direction and we were off.

My mare was fast but, given her size and the need to avoid trees, the predators were able to keep up.

Although we could not outrun the wolves in this forest, I knew Superian could maintain her speed long after our hungry pursuers became exhausted. And even better, the trees were becoming smaller and fewer.

We had just begun to slightly open the distance when we fully emerged from the forest. Superian quickly accelerated to the full glory of astonishing speed she was capable of.

My hopes for our escape were suddenly dashed as the ground ahead became a black void in the moonlight. We were racing toward the edge of a cliff!

I could now hear the sound of crashing water far below. Superian’s speed almost certainly precluded stopping in time. As the other side of the gorge came into view, I feared the distance to safety was too great, even for my speedy mare. Superian made our choice as she powerfully launched us in attempt to leap the chasm.

We were halfway across when it became sickeningly clear that the brave mare’s attempt was futile. The distance was simply beyond the ability of any horse. With my heart in my throat and Superian’s momentum slowing, I glanced down at the angry white water battling large rocks far below.

I cried out, “Acadian, help us!” but had no idea what - if anything - my paladin could do at this point.

“Vensahliz.” Acadian’s urgently spoken word was unfamiliar to my long ears.

“TIID KLO UL!” The booming response literally thundered across the night sky in a powerfully deep but undeniably female voice. A goddess?

Suddenly, everything came nearly to a standstill. Superian’s mane no longer whipped my face; each white hair moved at a barely perceptible rate. Water droplets from the wet mare hung in the air, almost motionless as they glistened in the moonlight. The raging river far below seemed frozen in time. “Buffy, we only have a few seconds. Cling tightly to your mare – no matter what.” Acadian’s next words were not addressed to me. “Thank you, Vensahliz, for pausing time. I must call upon your aerial skill once more. I know there will be consequences, but I ask, old friend, that you do what you must to help us.”

At that point, everything careened back into full speed. As our downward momentum quickly overtook any lingering forward progress, I felt intense pain - as if a powerful spirit was being ripped from within me. The mare’s white mane transformed into a pair of long spikes – or horns perhaps - and her black coat was replaced by pale gray scales. I turned my head sharply at a strange sound behind me to see giant whitish wings unfurling. It was only then I realized that instead of my arms and legs being wrapped around the neck and bare back of my mare, I was clinging to the upper neck of a massive dragon that could only be Phantom - the long-dead mount of Acadian!

The pain had stopped, but certainly not my fear as the river below raced up at us.

Phantom’s wings flapped once and our descent slowed. Her long tail swung out to one side as those mighty wings attacked the air once again. Although her wingtips now spanned nearly the entire width of the canyon, her maneuver had brought us into alignment with the river so we had air instead of cliff wall ahead of us. The hungry rocks jutting up from the river like teeth were getting much closer, however, and white water now churned with a terrifying roar.

The dragon’s wings powerfully bit into the air again and, for the first time, I felt more like we were flying than falling. Another flap. I held my breath.

The spray of deafening white water filled my face, but we were skimming above it!

Phantom lifted her horned head slightly and, as her long-unused wings settled into a steady rhythm, we finally began to climb.

“Buffy, she is weak and will need to land soon,” warned Acadian.

Sure enough, at the first open area alongside the river, Phantom flared her wings and landed rather ungracefully. She lowered her head, allowing me to slip to the ground. I marveled as I stepped back to admire the massive creature.

The dragon's coloring ranged from gray to translucent blue to white. Her horned head alone was as large as Superian; its weight, along with that of her neck and chest, was awkwardly held off the ground by clawed hinge-joints midway along the leading edge of both partially folded wings. Two powerful legs, that supported the mass of her haunches, ended in feet tipped with talons as long as my arms. Counterbalancing her long neck, Phantom's tail trailed out for several horse lengths behind her on the ground before ending in the shape of an arrowhead. Her eyes were the color of mine, but glowed as if her body could not restrain the magic within. I managed to say, “Y-you are terrifyingly beautiful. Thank you for saving my life.”

Suddenly I recovered from being awestruck and demanded, “Acadian! Where is Superian?”