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 4, Buffy learned more about how Phantom had forcefully joined with Superian in order to save both elf and mare. As the weakened dragon’s spirit became unable to sustain her winged physical presence, the form of her new host reemerged. Though the horse was now much larger and colored differently than the Superian that Buffy was used to, the little elf was simply overjoyed to have her precious mare back. As the sun rose, the pale twilight butterfly form of Azura visited to survey the results of what she had arranged.

ghastley- Thank you! The influence of Phantom’s spirit on Superian will be subtle and we’ll gradually reveal aspects of it as we progress. Phantom’s role in the Oblivion crisis is complete. By managing to fly, she has broken Kyne’s curse, allowing Akatosh to assume his dragon form when the time comes. And, yes, in a couple centuries Alduin will figure out that he can return to the skies as well. Just as Buffy will not be the Champion of Cyrodiil, neither she nor her dragon-mare will be the Dragonborn.

hazmick- You got it! Buffy and Acadian have traveled together in various forms through many lives that span across numerous times and worlds. During the life preceding their current one, Acadian was a dragon rider in Skyrim during the Merethic Era. When they all died during the dragon war, Phantom’s spirit somehow managed to travel with them into their current life in the late Third Era. To save Buffy and her mare when they leaped over that cliff, Phantom tore her own spirit free from Acadian (inside Buffy) and bound it to Superian. One implication is that when Buffy and Acadian’s current life ends, Superian might be able to make the leap with them to the next. Maybe.

SubRosa- Thank you for pointing out the influence of Azura in both the unusual wolf attack and how they ‘herded’ Buffy and Superian over that cliff. I love the ‘heavy’ look of the Skyhorses and have always wanted to transition Superian to more of an ‘Epona’ look.

mALX- Thanks! Interesting question as to whether Buffy is immortal or simply referring to her long elven lifespan. She can die, but reincarnates – she and Acadian have done so for millennia. She has no memories of past lives though - but Acadian does. Conjuring grooming equipment – Buffy loves her ‘utility’ magicks.

DE- Thank you. Yes, it was Azura who ‘engineered’ the wolf attack that herded Buffy and Superian over that cliff. Phantom’s full transformation into a dragon was an anomaly – fueled by extremis and almost certainly a bit of Azuran magic. Acadian is right that Phantom will unlikely be able to repeat that feat. Nor will she be able to give speech to Superian. We’ll gradually see the subtle but helpful abilities that Phantom’s spirit now brings to Superian but I need to shut up and not get ahead of the story. . . .

Lopov- I do like the word draconic – meaning dragon-like. Thank you for the kind words regarding our dialogue and Superian’s transformations. I’m both flattered and humbled that Buffy’s screenie graces the screen of your laptop!

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~ Part 2 – On the Wings of a Dove ~

Episode 5

There was a sudden fluttering sound above and behind me. I struggled to control Superian as she reared in surprise, grateful for the crude bridle and saddle I had managed to craft from vines and pelts respectively. As I settled her, a white dove swooped down upon us.

My alarm eased as the bird perched comfortably on my shoulder and cooed softly. “Why, hello there,” I said. “You gave my mare and I quite the start.” She calmly looked at me as I slowly lifted my hand. “You look like a courier dove from the Arcane University, but what are you doing all the way down in Valenwood?” As I touched the bird, she transformed into a scroll.

I quickly looked around the meadow, listening carefully for dangers in the surrounding forest and assessing routes of escape should Superian and I be attacked. Satisfied, I unrolled the parchment and instantly recognized the elegant quill strokes of my University Advisor, Boderi Farano.

Buffy,

I hope this messenger was able to hone in on your magical essence based upon the required sample you gave us back when you were a student here. And I hope she has found you well.

I read with great interest, pride and sadness Guildmagister Sigrid Firewalker’s after action report detailing the closure of Kvatch’s Oblivion Gate and subsequent recapture of the city. Firstly, my deepest sympathies over the death of your Captain Matius. It may be of some consolation to know that he is being hailed as the Hero of Kvatch. I understand your need to grieve privately and can think of no better place for you to do so than your ancestral homeland.

For what it’s worth, Sigrid spoke glowingly of your courage and skill under fire. I am thankful that your badly broken left arm was healing well as you left Kvatch, and that the healers expected you to fully recover soon.

I know your magicks will help protect you, but was alarmed to learn that your powerful bow was broken beyond repair during the same battle that took your mate. I shared my concern with Guildmagister Kud-Ei in Bravil who consulted your archery master there. Daenlin had apparently been working on a special bow and quiver for you since even before the Tournament of Archers. He provided the results of his craftsmanship, along with a set of notes detailing your archery talents, limitations and requirements.

The Praxographical Center, in consult with the Chironasium and guided by Master Daenlin’s notes, enchanted both bow and quiver. They further rendered the results into a conjuration spell that you will find emblazoned into the rune at the bottom of this scroll.

I know that your body and heart can be as fragile as a butterfly, but I also know that the spirit within you rivals that of a dragon. May the Nine speed your pilgrimage to find what you seek, and bring you safely back to us.

I remain your advisor, instructor, mentor and friend,

Boderi Farano

I wiped a tear from my cheek, then passed a hand over the runic symbol at the bottom of the scroll. It glowed briefly as I absorbed its arcane knowledge. The scroll was then engulfed in a swirl of magic, from which the white dove reemerged and promptly winged away. The ability that had flowed into me seemed. . . different than what I had expected. Boderi said the spell would conjure a bow, but the magic felt much more like that which summons a creature. A living bow?

Slipping to the ground, I filled my left hand with the new spell. Opening my fist to release its magic, I felt the grip of a bow materializing against my palm and instinctively closed my fingers around it. Simultaneously, the welcome familiarity of a quiver settled against my back.

The large elven weapon in my hand was fashioned from a relatively open-grained wood that was unknown to me. Its ears and the area above and below the leather-wrapped handgrip had been reinforced by beautifully molded and engraved sections of chitin. I could feel the weapon pulsing slightly as if eager for use. Subtle hints of pale bluish magic slowly traveled along its length. The staff was long, thick and gracefully recurved - features indicative of great power. While I craved the high damage and long range of such bows, I questioned my ability to manage the heavy draw likely required. Then I recalled that the specifications for the weapon had been guided by none other than Daenlin.

I smiled and slipped an arrow from the quiver. The four-bladed rather slender tip was beautifully crafted from what appeared to be no less than forge-hardened mithril steel. I assessed the arrowhead as likely a very effective compromise between penetration and stopping power. The wooden shaft was long and flawlessly straight. I noted that the three rows of exquisite feather fletching were not only perfectly uniform, but had been mounted with a slight twist – a feature that would cause the arrow to spin in flight, improving both range and accuracy.

Nocking the missile, I addressed the silk bowstring. When I began to pull, I felt the bow willingly respond. I now understood. This bow was indeed alive – and attuned to my needs. With very little effort from me, the staff relaxed its recurve, bending its limbs toward me until my hand rested against my ear and the arrow’s fletching kissed my cheek. Normally, I could hold that position but for a moment so I was astonished that, with the bow’s assistance, I was able to maintain full draw long enough to leisurely aim! Such a feat, particularly with a large bow, was normally possible for only the strongest of Orsimeri archers.

I aimed out about a dozen horse lengths to a dead branch the size of my thigh and loosed. Surprised at the bow’s quietness upon release, I realized that it had controlled its recovery to reduce characteristic ‘bow twang’ to a soft hiss. The arrow flew true to its target, shattering the section of branch that it hit.

I fired again. The resulting shot split a rock the size of my head.

“Well stuff me gently," I said quietly as I lowered the weapon and stared at it in awe. "I’d wager your magic includes the ability to pierce armor. Powerful, accurate and quiet - a true sniper weapon. Like your predecessor, I shall call you Slayer.”

Having a bow in my hand again – especially this elegantly magical one – flooded me with confidence. Deep in the dangerous forests, meadows and jungles of Valenwood, I began to feel a bit more like predator than prey. “Thank you, Master Daenlin. You know your apprentice well.”

As I shouldered the weapon, I realized one of its other features. Rather than being summoned for a fixed time, I could feel a small drain on my magicka – less than my regeneration rate - that sustained the bow as long as I allowed the arcane energy to flow. With the weapon on my back, I tried to bring a spell to one of my hands. Nothing. It seemed that sustaining the bow precluded the casting of other spells. I allowed the magicka link to fade and, after the bow and quiver dissipated, was easily able cast other spells.

“I take it you are pleased?” offered Acadian.

“You have a gift for understatement, my paladin. I’m sure there are other features of this bow and its quiver that will reveal themselves as I use them.” I then chirped, “Let’s go kill something!”

“Don’t get carried away, my bowgirl.”

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From Buffy’s Scrapbook