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 our last episode, Violet told Buffy about life in the Strid River Valley Tribe and that one of their twice yearly mammoth hunts drew near. She then showed Buffy her unique Spirit Catcher ability of sharing her spirit with a familiar – a river eagle in Violet’s case. Before the cousins headed for a bath in the river, Violet invited Buffy to think about learning the ancient Find Familiar ability of their mothers’ tribe.

DE- Thank you! I hope you will enjoy the tribe’s upcoming mammoth hunt in a few more episodes.

ghastley- Thanks for your wonderful insight as ever. The little elf has always carried spirits within and it is beginning to gradually make more sense to her now.

BretonBlood- I’m glad the blend of tribalism, nature and magic is showing through as a big part the inspiration for our approach to Valenwood. Thanks!

Renee- Thank you! Buffy was conceived high in the branches of the Tall Trees of central Valenwood. After her tribe’s tree was destroyed, Buffy was carried in her mother’s womb as her parents fled to and settled in Bravil. So this really is a wood elf’s journey to learn of her *groan* roots.

SubRosa- Thanks for seeing the connection between Spirit Catchers and Buffy’s bond with Acadian. I hope you enjoy which familiar eventually chooses Buffy and how it relates to what she needs instead of what she might want.

Grits- It was great fun to work through the details of life in the Strid River Valley Tribe since, although it is compatible with TES (I think anyway), it is heavily imagineered to suit our purposes. Valenwood allows a cleaner slate for world building than Cyrodiil since none of the main games are set there.

hazmick- Hee! Having room for another spirit is Buffy’s concern as well. Before she learns the Find Familiar ability, she and Acadian will have a chat about how many spirits can fit in a tiny elf.

mALX- Thanks for noticing some familial type similarities between Buffy and Violet. I’m glad the possibilities of ‘sprit catcher’ as it relates to Buffy is provocatively evident. And thanks also for your encouragement as we do some ‘lore-weaving’ in this book.

Lopov- Aquilla’s name just popped into place as soon as I thought of an eagle for Violet’s familiar. Thank you for enjoying our description of life in this part of Valenwood bordered by river and prairie.

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Episode 11

The following sunrise found me grooming Superian by the river’s edge. Both our bellies were full of porridge made from wild oats and apples. I had also enjoyed a cup of hot bergamot tea. A pale green twilight butterfly fluttered nearby. I couldn’t be sure, but I was beginning to wonder if it was the same butterfly that often seemed to find me around dawn or dusk. No, I decided, that would be silly. After all, such small creatures were common sights when the sun was low.

“You’re up early, Buffy.”

I looked over my shoulder to see that Violet had quietly approached. “Good morning, cousin,” I lowered the last of Superian’s feet and dispelled her hoof pick in favor of a curry brush.

“Why are you rubbing that brush in circles?” she asked.

“To loosen any debris in her coat and stimulate her skin.”

“I-I don’t know anything about horses.” After the tentative comment she added, “Can I help?”

I paused, turned to her and smiled. Violet had only briefly met Superian the day before. “Come closer and ask her.”

She approached the imposing mare. As Superian swung her head to investigate the lavender-haired elf, Violet stiffened. “She must be ten times my size!”

“I’d say she’s closer to ten times the size of you and I combined.” Sensing that my comment only made Violet more nervous, I added encouragingly, "Relax though, I can tell already that she likes you.”

Violet cautiously reached out a hand and rubbed the mare’s long nose. “You have beautiful glowing eyes – the same color as those of your mistress. Would you like me to help fix your hair?”

I resumed circling the curry brush around Superian’s coat. “Why don’t you use your fingers to work any tangles out of her mane?”

As Violet reached up, Superian lowered her head making the task easier.

“As you can see,” I said, “she’s used to being groomed by a small elf.” I then dispelled the curry brush by summoning a medium bristled one and began flicking away anything I had loosened up from her coat. “What are we doing today?”

“The tribe’s cook has tasked you and I with collecting mussels from the river for a large batch of stew he plans to make. We’ll save any pearls they contain for when the next trading boat from Anvil makes its way this far up river. Some of the tribe will be catching fish today for the same stew. Another small group has already left camp, hunting for wild tubers and onions. Oh, I’m finished with Superian’s mane.”

“Thanks for the help,” I replied. I was now smoothing the mare’s coat with a conjured burlap rub rag. “Would you work any tangles out of her tail, please?”

“Sure,” replied Violet. She looked rather nervous as she circled around to the mare’s hindquarters.

I chuckled. “Don’t worry, she’ll neither kick nor relieve herself while you’re back there.” I noticed my little butterfly friend was gone.

Soon enough we were done. I blew Superian a kiss over one shoulder as Violet led me to our next task. “You’ll have to teach me how to collect these mussels.”

We’d not traveled far alongside the river when she stopped. “This is a good spot, Buffy. Can you hold your breath well?”

“Not exactly but, with a spell, I can stay under water for over a quarter hour.”

Violet stared at me. “I’ve heard of such spells, but the tree-dwelling Spirit Catchers had no need to breathe water and no one in the Strid Valley River Tribe knows such magic.”

I took her hands in mine. “Violet, I’ve learned so much about who I am from you. And you’ve so freely provided your tent, food and kindness. I’d be honored if you’d let me try and share my waterbreathing spell with you. I mean, if you want me to.”

Lavender eyes sparkled and hair of the same color bounced as she nodded vigorously.

I continued to hold her hands. “We’ll need to maintain a physical bond.” I moved closer until our foreheads were pressed together. “Close your eyes and open your mind to my magic.” Soon, I could feel the delicate tendrils of our spirits gently discovering each other as they intertwined enough to allow the flow of arcane knowledge. After a few moments, I allowed the bond to fade. I stepped back as we both opened our eyes.

“I think it worked,” she said. “I’m anxious to try it.”

After dropping our clothes, Violet picked up the medium sized bag that she had worn at her hip. It contained another such sack and two small flint blades, each with a thin twine lanyard. “The bags are to hold our catch and the blades are to help break free any stubborn ones.” After she tied one of the bags around my waist and a blade to my wrist, I did the same for her.

“Are we ready?” I asked.

“Almost,” replied Violet. She looked up just before I heard the wings of Aquilla. I watched the eagle settle upon a branch that stretched out over the river. “As when we were bathing last night he’ll watch out for slaughterfish and make sure no squirrels or raccoons get into our belongings. Now we’re ready.”

After casting our spells, I followed Violet to the river’s bottom and she began to show me how to find and gather our quarry. With two of us, and the ability to stay submerged for long periods, it took only a couple hours to fill both our bags.

Once done, we sat on the shore, drying ourselves in the midmorning sun.

“Do you remember much of my parents?” I asked while combing out my hair.

“I knew Aunt Marian from as far back as I can remember. She met and married Superior only a couple years before the fire so I didn’t know him as well. The cozy burrow nest that Alderglean provided for them within one of her branches was quite high. Oh, I recall that Aunt Marian maintained a small shrine to Azura in her home – it only appeared a couple months before the fire. I found that a bit odd, as most of our tribe worshipped the Sky Goddess and Nirn Mother.” Violet stiffened slightly. “Aquilla sees a hunter on the other side of the river.” She closed her eyes for a few moments, then opened them again. “No danger. It’s the chief’s son, likely hunting rabbit. “Pull your knees up to cover your bits.” We both did so as some small branches parted across the river and I recognized Vandrelis, bow in hand.

“You can see through Aquilla’s eyes?” I asked.

“Sometimes, when there is something he wishes to show me,” she replied.

“Vandrelis is watching us too,” I said. “I didn’t know he was the chief’s son.”

“Yes,” Violet replied, “and someday I expect he’ll be chief.” She frowned. “Several of the tribe’s young mermaidens fawn over him.”

“I can see why,” I remarked a bit more dreamily than I intended.

“Oh, not you too, Buffy!”

“Well, he is quite handsome,” I said, “and when I first encountered him as I approached your valley, he acted nobly and treated me with kindness.”

She looked at me. “He must have taken a fancy to you - and likely more than just your looks. I mean you and I could be twins except for our hair and eye coloring, but he has never shown much interest in me. Of course, I was a grown mer before he came of age, so perhaps that is why he has never thought of me that way.”

Even from across the river, I could see it was indeed me that Vandrelis was watching. After a short time, he faded back into the forest and I mused aloud, “Or perhaps he’s watching me simply because I’m an outsider and he doesn’t trust me.”

Finally dry, we dressed, gathered our bags of mussels from where we had tethered them in the shallows and headed back to the village.