Episode 6 found Buffy and Superian approaching a high prairie en route to the Strid River. When the path ahead was blocked by a minotaur, elf and mare displayed their teamwork using Buffy’s new bow from the saddle.
Renee- Hee! Yes, that minotaur had a role to play. Like ‘Crewman Green’ from the old Star Trek series, you just knew he wasn’t gonna make it back from the away mission. Thanks!
mALX- While the presence of Phantom’s spirit within does give Superian a bit more confidence, most of the mare’s newfound defiant bravado is because she has learned how effective the archer on her back can be. Just as Buffy trusts in the mare’s speed/maneuverability, Superian trusts in her elf’s marksmanship. We’ll see in the next episode that the mare’s bravery evaporates without Buffy in her saddle. Hopefully the resultant impression will be their interdependence. Regarding Slayer’s arrows, they linger for a time after being shot, then evaporate on their own so Buffy doesn’ t have to worry about recovering them. And each time she conjures Slayer, its quiver is full. So arrow management for Slayer is very much like Skyrim’s bound/mystic bow. Thanks so much for asking your questions so I could address them!
Lopov- Thank you! Mounted archery is one of the bigger examples of Buffy Fiction now running on 'Skyrim’s game engine' instead of Oblvion’s. I debated using conventional arrows that Buffy had to resupply. In the end, I went with magic ones to keep her hybrid bow a bit more in line with Skyrim’s mystic bow.
SubRosa- Thanks for your kind words about our opening. I love beginning one of her episodes within the magic of a forest morning. Buffy’s paranoid about Superian’s safety and welfare. It really is necessary for the mare to have a few defensive abilities (like some regeneration and the constitution of a dragon) for Buffy to comfortably use her as a warhorse – and I love the swaying of Superian’s mane as she moves too much to cover her with armor.
DE- I take your supportive words as high praise indeed, given how your own wonderful fiction was able to bring the hauntingly primeval hunting grounds of Hircine so vividly alive. I’m also glad you’re pleased that our setting is Valenwood. Buffy will learn a great deal about the sap that runs within her as well as her tribal roots. An armored minotaur!
ghastley- Heh, I recall the challenges your horses have provided your wagon mod. As I mentioned to mALX, Superian’s bravery comes from the archer on her back. With Buffy dismounted, the mare will act very much like the nervous prey animal she is. In horse form the mare’s nature is stronger than the dragon’s.
Grits- Thank you for the encouragement. There has been much new to present in the book so far and I’ve been trying to strike a balance between ‘showing’ it, augmented by ruminations from Buffy. I hope you enjoy Buffy’s upcoming time with a tribe of the plains.
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Episode 7
I dropped the waterskin I was filling and stood when I saw the wood elf. He must have stealthily approached from downwind, precluding my nearby mare from picking up his scent.
He nocked an arrow but did not draw his bow.
I conjured Slayer and did the same while sidestepping closer to a tree that might shield me if necessary.
Superian raised her head from the spring’s small pool, water trailing from her mouth. She backed away nervously, for much of her courage was contingent upon having her elf in the saddle.
The archer directed his weapon down and to one side, but kept the arrow fitted to his bowstring. “You don’t look like a Valley Girl.”
“I beg your pardon?” His words mystified me but, in response to his tone and actions, I pointed my arrow toward the ground as well. “What’s a Valley Girl?”
“You look like a Cloud Dancer but speak like a Cyrodiil,” he stated.
His response did nothing to enlighten me but his tone was not threatening. I allowed Slayer to dispel and lowered my hands as the subtle illusion magic of a fear spell unobtrusively filled my right fist – just in case. “I don’t understand your meaning but I intend you no harm.”
I was relieved to see him quiver his arrow and shoulder his bow. “I am Vandrelis, a huntsmer of the Strid River Valley Tribe.”
“My name’s Buffy, a traveler,” I replied as my readied spell quietly faded. “I mean no trespass. If you’d look at my map and advise me, I’ll be happy to avoid your hunting area." I produced a doeskin map of Valenwood from my mage satchel and unrolled it.
As the mer approached, I could see he was nearly as tall as an Imperial. A short elven sword rode at one hip and a waterskin on the other. Buckskins covered his lower body. From the waist up he was bare, save the leather harness that hosted his bow and quiver. The sun had bronzed the skin of his trim, muscular upper body and a mane of chestnut hair trailed well down his back. A clean-shaven face displayed finely chiseled features. He ignored the map and, after a curious glance at Superian’s azure glowing eyes, looked down at me. “I meant that your accent is clearly from Cyrodiil, but your coloring and size mark you as a Cloud Dancer. What is your tribe?”
“I-I don’t know. My mother carried me in her womb from Valenwood to Bravil where I was born. She said she would tell me of our tribe when I was older but died before she was able to do so.”
His dark eyes softened somewhat. “I’m sorry to hear that. . . Buffy.”
“What’s a Cloud Dancer?” I asked.
“Bosmer display physical traits consistent with their tribal territories. Cloud Dancer is a general description applied to several tribes that live in Valenwood’s tallest trees – found in the center of the province. Trees so tall that their upper branches kiss the clouds – hence, the elves who live there are referred to as Cloud Dancers.”
“You said they look like me?” I prompted.
He nodded. “Their physical adaptations include small size and light, fragile bones to support life in the slender upper branches of their homes. Their hair is light-colored, ranging from silver or golden to lavender or even pale green. Presumably this is a form of camouflage, for it is said they prefer to fight from the trees with the sun above them. Unlike the brown or black eyes of most Bosmer, theirs are generally green, blue or violet. Living amidst thick foliage means they hunt by sound as much as sight and their sensitive ears are larger than those of other elves.”
“You just described the appearance of my mother and I!”
“Now you see why I assumed you were from one of the Cloud Dancer tribes – until you spoke.” Finally, his attention moved to my rather poorly annotated map. “Where are you headed?”
“I’m not sure. You see, I came here from Cyrodiil about three months ago hoping the forests of my ancestral homeland could help mend my broken heart. So far, I’ve just been wandering and living off the land.”
“Who would break the heart of such a beautiful elf?” he asked.
I lowered my eyes. “N-no. He died in my arms, from wounds sustained saving my life.”
“I’m sorry. It sounds like he loved you very much.”
I nodded, and a tear slid down one cheek as I looked up at the elf and announced, “I want to find my mother’s tribe. Can you help?” I held out the map again.
“Your map will be of little help.” He pointed generally south. “When you see taller trees in front of you, go toward them. When the trees stop becoming taller, you are there.” He shrugged then added, “I’ve never ventured far enough south to encounter the Tall Trees.”
“Well, that should at least get me heading in the right direction.” I rolled up the map. “Thank you for allowing me safe passage.”
“I’m sure it is many days travel.” His look grew dubious. “Are you well-provisioned?”
“Probably not,” I admitted.
He knelt by the spring and filled his waterskin as well as the one I had dropped. As he stood and handed mine to me, his gaze traveled down my small frame, then briefly back up over Superian. “You are near my territory and I would feel responsible if you attempted such a journey with inadequate supplies and so little knowledge of your destination.”
“You are most kind, but-“
“Stay your words,” he interrupted. “You look half starved and poorly equipped. This animal you travel with looks well-cared for though. Would you expose her to such a hazardous trip unprepared?”
His protective chivalry tugged at my heart, for it reminded me of my Savlian. It was Vandrelis’ last question that made me reconsider his offer though. I looked at my precious mare, then back to the mer. “There is truth and wisdom in your words, Vandrelis. Superian and I would be grateful for any assistance you can offer.”
“Accompany me to my village, Buffy. We will speak with the tribe’s shaman. I believe he may be able to help. There is a member of our tribe who was born in the land of the Tall Trees.”