Buffy - Book 3, We're Having a Crisis Here! Options

[Acadian]

Welcome to Book 3! As ever, Buffy’s tale of continuing adventure remains one that is character-driven with more focus on her journey than the destination.

Buffy is a Bosmeri 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 Eras.

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 elf 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 3 takes place in Cyrodiil and will see the Oblivion Crisis finally yield to the dawn of a new Era – even as Buffy accepts the challenges of walking an ancient path of her own. The small elf has traditionally danced between darkness and light; in this book, she must ultimately and entirely commit to one or the other.

Books 1 and 2, in their staggering entirety as well as an executive summary concise enough to comfortably be read in one sitting, can be found on our sub forum. That said, enjoying Book 3 does not really require more information than is contained right here in these few introductory paragraphs. I have taken care to have Buffy review significant aspects of her past as they become relevant. More specifically, I want new readers to feel comfortable just jumping right into Book 3 without feeling obligated to read Buffy’s previous books first.

I estimate that at one episode per week, Book 3 will require roughly seven months to post. My fervent hope is that you find our humbly-offered efforts worthy of your time.

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~ Part 1 – Welcome Back to Cyrodiil ~

Episode 1

The few determined streaks of early sunshine that managed to penetrate the forest merely teased my right shoulder with their fleeting warmth. Superian’s visible breath drifted up and back to join with the misty fog of my own. Kitsune – my vixen familiar – loped along easily but alertly beside us. The sound of hooves on the Green Road’s worn cobblestones was comforting, but could mask the subtle sounds of approaching danger from the sensitive long ears that all three of us possessed. My sharp eyes, augmented by twin rings of detect life, moved constantly, even as I also relied on the long noses of my precious mare and fox familiar to detect the scent of foes.

Numerous small life signs on the road ahead brought us to a stop. I urged the mare forward cautiously until the forms of half a dozen vultures and several jackals squabbling among themselves came into view. Enough of the armored head and reptilian body remained to identify the carcass they feasted upon as that of a clannfear.

Kitsune teleported up to her spot between my lap and the pommel of Superian’s saddle. The carrion feeders were larger than she and we had no interest in fighting them. We skirted the edge of the road, and those tasked by the Nirn Mother with cleaning her forest briefly gave ground. The unmistakably large tracks of a grizzly bear in the soft ground just off the road told the story. Soon enough, the hungry arguments of the scavengers and acrid smell were behind us. Kitsune leapt to the ground to resume her easy lope alongside Superian.

Cyrodiil had become a much more dangerous place since my return from Valenwood a few months ago. Oblivion Gates had begun appearing with disturbing frequency. Most of the Daedra remained close to the gates that spawned them but some roamed - leaving terror and death in their wake.

The Nirn Mother had responded to the flaming blights within her forests. Grizzly bears, like the one responsible for the tracks I had just seen, were not shy about attacking Daedra.

Spriggans were now more numerous. They and their black bears struggled to protect and restore the forest. They also diligently planted vines near closed Oblivion Gates that could, over time, heal the charred land and even consume the jagged stone detritus left behind.

Thoughts of Oblivion Gates drew my mind to a dear friend, Sir Mazoga. The last I had seen of her was when she and her mate, Sir Agronak, left Kvatch with Martin Septim in tow. Since then, the only word I had of the orcish pair came from reading about how successful they were at slaying Daedra and closing Oblivion Gates. Their squire, Fanador, had become quite the prolific scribe when it came to recording the heroic deeds of his knights.

Well before the sun reached its zenith, it was swallowed by a darkening sky. As we cautiously continued, the road’s next curve allowed a better view. Fear and anger grew within me as I saw the flaming arc of jagged stone that stood before us in the distance. Ominous streaks of red lightning pierced the sinister clouds that hung above this portal to the realm of Mehrunes Dagon.

Had this Oblivion Gate been out in the wilderness, I would have given it a wide berth and moved on.

Alas, such was not the case here.

Heaving a troubled sigh, I whispered to the spirit of the old paladin who dwelled within me, “Acadian, I know the message Kud-Ei gave me last night from Boderi Farano directed that I report to the University straightaway, but this gate is close enough to the Green Road that it poses a serious threat to any who might attempt to travel between Bravil and the vulnerable villages and inns south of Pell’s Gate. I-I can’t leave it open.�

“I share your trepidation, Buffy,� replied Acadian, “but I am proud of your choice.�

While maintaining a good distance from the gate, I circuitously maneuvered Superian up onto a ridgeline that provided adequate range and cover. After carefully selecting a concealed spot among several trees, I dismounted Superian and unshouldered Slayer – my bow.

Kitsune and I crept just clear enough of the trees to gain a commanding view of the gate. Sure enough, I could see a pair of scamps and a single Daedroth patrolling just outside the gate.

There was no banner planted in front of the flaming portal to indicate anyone was inside attempting to close it. Such warning precautions had become necessary. Whether Mehrunes Dagon realized it or not, the very sigil stones that powered these gates had incentivized their destruction. They were prized for their ability to powerfully enchant items with neither training nor access to specialized altars. Bands of intrepid adventurers had grown wealthy closing gates and harvesting the valuable stones. Some of them had undergone the Legion’s gate-closing training program conducted at the Arena, while others had simply gleaned what knowledge they needed from the authoritative writings of Fanador as he described the exploits of his lieges.

“Well, here goes, my paladin. We’ve got to clear those sentries first,� I whispered. “I hope I know what we’re doing.�

As soon as the emerald swirl completed its journey from my fingertips, the Daedroth roared a challenge to the scamps who answered with a barrage of fireballs.

As the Daedra battled, I nocked an arrow.

When the burned and wounded Daedroth stood victoriously alone, I drew my bowstring. The weapon responded by assisting me to fully achieve and maintain its heavy draw. I was able to leisurely aim, then loose. Slayer also helped control the bowstring’s recovery, resulting in a quiet hiss instead of the loud snap normally associated with releasing an arrow. My missile lethally penetrated the monster’s chest.

A scan of the area detected no pink glowing life signs nearby.

I knew I had to move fast, as the Oblivion Gate would soon spawn replacement sentries.

Superian quickly and surely carried me directly down the side of the ridgeline. When I could feel the heat from the portal’s flames, I dismounted and summoned my elven hunting knife. I cut a green branch to a length that matched my height then affixed the small green Mages Guild pennant I carried. I then planted my banner near the gate. It would suffice to warn any who approached that a guild mage was inside. Those foolish enough to enter such a marked gate could expect to die when whoever was inside pulled the sigil stone. We had originally learned this lesson the hard way when Menien Goneld did not survive the closing of Kvatch’s gate.

I checked that my waterskin was full, wishing I had two of them. After augmenting my twin detect life rings with a third ring to help resist the heat of the Deadlands, I asked, “Acadian, would you recall our dragon-mare to safety within us?�

“Vensahliz, I need you,� was my paladin’s simple incantation. Vensahliz was Phantom’s name in dragon tongue, meaning wind-phantom-ice. Phantom was Acadian’s ice dragon mount. Though they both perished serving Kyne during the great dragon war at the end of the Merethic Era over four thousand years ago, their spirits lived – Acadian within me and Phantom within Superian. In order to return to Acadian, Phantom transformed the body she shared with Superian into the essence of their combined spirit. The mare evaporated into a pale blue vapor which made its way to my fingers. I closed my open hand to absorb her.

A moment later, Acadian announced, “She is safely with me now.�

With a glance from me, Kitsune disappeared. Satisfied with the preparations, I took a deep breath. Before I could change my mind, I slipped into the flaming portal.

Even as the dry heat began to permeate my buckskins, I sought a place of hiding among the rocks. The layout of this piece of the Deadlands seemed blessedly simpler than that which Savlian and I had navigated at Kvatch. I moved quickly to the sigil tower, relying on my detection magic and stealth to avoid several roaming Daedra.

Working my way up the tower, I used illusion spells to start several fights among its guardians. The ensuing distractions served to focus their attention away from me as I manipulated any doors or switches necessary to ascend.

The top of this sigil tower was guarded by a storm atronach and dremora warrior. After my magic coaxed the two into combat against each other, I sprinted to the sigil stone and grabbed it.

As the tower rumbled and began to collapse, intense white light forced my eyes closed and I felt myself falling and spinning. After a few terrifying seconds, I bounced off the cold ground of Nirn and scrambled to my feet.

[Acadian]

Renee- I’m glad you agree that waterwalking amulets for river and coastal ship travel seem to make sense. I bet the weather will indeed be mostly overcast and/or rainy in County Leyawiin. Perhaps with a few bolts of red lightning. . . . Thank you!

ghastley- Like you, SubRosa and others, I like to try to show some practical uses for magic in such a magical world. Thank you!

SubRosa- With Buffy considering aligning with one of the Divines, what Azura might have to say about it seems like a prudent consideration. Buffy will learn the names of some of the Peony Princess’ sister ships and I hope you will enjoy them also. I’m glad you like how we are using the MG’s arcane flame. I confess it was partly inspired by the FG’s amulets that you introduced in Teresa Fiction. Thank you!

DE- I felt obliged to address how the traitorous Worm we left to eternal torment in the Second Era in ESO could somehow survive to later battle Vanus Galerion (in support of Order of the Lamp lore) and even infest himself upon the Third Era (in support of the MG questline in Oblvion). I find it great fun to try and weave the wide range of racial characteristics found in Tamriel into matter-of fact-normal considerations that might not occur to those of us without pointed ears, tails, fur or tusks. Thank you!

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Previously- Buffy boarded the Peony Princess to begin her journey from The Imperial City down the Niben to Leyawiin. After meeting her Argonian cabin mate and settling in, she made her way up to the ship’s main deck to enjoy some fresh air and sunshine.

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Episode 10

“What lady so fair, whose golden hair shames the very sun, graces my port rail?�

I turned to look up at a handsome Redguard. A loose fitting white shirt was gathered at his waist by a scarlet sash and its wide sleeves danced in the wind. Well-fitted black trousers were tucked into knee high suede boots of the same color. His roguishly smiling lips parted to say, “Torlin, first mate of this fine vessel.�

“Buffy,� I managed to reply without stammering.

“Buffy,� he repeated. “What a beautifully exotic name! In all my travels, I’ve never met anyone who shares it.�

“Nor have I,� I said, feeling rather flustered by his blatant charm and attention, “so I suppose it is rather rare,�

He lifted my hand briefly to his lips. “Welcome aboard.�

“Thank you,� I replied. As he leaned against the rail and unabashedly watched me, I looked around, trying not to display my self-consciousness. Behind us now was the wide bridge spanning the Upper Niben at its juncture with Lake Rumare. Ahead, I could see another vessel closing quickly. It sailed by almost silently, save for the cracking of sails in the wind and what sounded like commands being barked to its deck crew. “Beautiful,� I said. “What ship is that?�

“Barenziah’s Breeze,� replied Torlin amiably. “One of our sister ships, and bound for The Imperial City. While not as fair as yourself, she’s a beauty all right.�

I imagined my peasant blouse did little to hide the flush I felt rising above its off-the-shoulder neckline, but I didn’t draw attention to it by looking down to see. “When I picked up my ticket at the Imperial Trading Company, the clerk told me we’d arrive at Leyawiin early tomorrow. How many stops do we make?�

“Just one at Bravil before sailing overnight to Leyawiin. About four more days from there on to Anvil, including numerous stops.�

“At what cities?� I asked.

“Well, after Leyawiin, we sail to Duncori Walk and Senchal in Elsweyr. Then on to the land of the Bosmer.� Brilliant white teeth flashed briefly before he continued, “Our Valenwood ports are Haven, Southpoint, Greenheart and Woodhearth. Next is one of the Summerset Isles for a stop at Skywatch before finally arriving Anvil. After a few days port call for the crew, we bring aboard a new load of passengers, mail and cargo then retrace our route back to The Imperial City.�

“I’d love to visit those cities. Someday.�

He smiled. “Tis a shame that Leyawiin will break my heart by stealing you away on the morrow before I can show you those ports.�

I smiled demurely and, as I lowered my eyes, could see now that my shoulders did indeed display the blush I felt. “How fortunate your crew is to have a first mate so gifted by the silken tongue of a bard.�

“You wound me, lovely lady.� I looked up to see sparkling eyes that belied both a crestfallen face and dark hand placed dramatically over his heart to stem imaginary bleeding.

“Oh, I’d wager the numerous ports you visit provide plenty of lovely ladies to tend your wounds. I find this talk of ships fascinating though. How many such vessels does the Imperial Trading Company operate and where else do they go?�

“Let’s see, there’s our own Princess of course. And you saw the Breeze just heading north.� He began counting off on his fingers. “The ITC also operates Nymph of the Niben, Mara’s Tear, Black Swan and Dragon’s Tongue. Six. They all run the same route when not undergoing maintenance in our home port of The Imperial City. The Rihad Trading Company overlaps us at Anvil and serves the northern provinces.�

“Thank you, Torlin. I had no idea how all this worked.�

“You’re most welcome,� he replied. “We’ll dock at Bravil within the hour. Our loadmaster will oversee the on and offloading. My duties in port are actually quite light. The town is quite an unsavory den of thieves, beggars and black marketeers. ‘Tis hardly a place for a cultured unaccompanied lady. I’d be honored to escort you ashore, share a dinner and get to know you better. Have you had the misfortune of visiting Bravil before?�

“I grew up in the beautiful forest city that is cleansed by the Niben and nurtured by the Great Chapel of Mara. After losing both parents, the city and its people became the family who raised me.� I smiled sweetly.

The Redguard was speechless for a long moment. When he spoke, the roguishly bardic manner was gone. “Forgive my poorly chosen words, Buffy. I feel as if I’ve eaten half my boot.�

“Apology accepted, Torlin. I admit that it takes time spent in Mara’s city to fully appreciate her subtle charm and that your perceptions are shared by many visitors.� I paused to give the man a reassuring smile. “I greatly appreciate you teaching me so much about ship travel within the Empire, however I must decline your kind offer. The length of our port call here is too short for me to say all the hellos and goodbyes that going ashore would require. And I’ve already promised my cabin mate that I’d quietly remain aboard with her for dinner in the galley.� I then poked a small finger into his ribs playfully. “Besides, you’d hardly want a Bravilian waif as your dinner date. I might steal your heart and sell it on the black market.�

My joke elicited the intended laugh and seemed to ease his lingering embarrassment. “Methinks ‘tis I who have learned from you, fair and wise lady. We’ll need to rig for the wind and make our turn toward Bravil soon. I hope to see you again before you leave us in Leyawiin.� He kissed my hand once more, then treated me to a charming grin and exaggerated bow as one hand almost swept the deck. He then turned and, before I knew it, was barking orders about sails, coming around, riggings and such to the crew.

I watched the resultant deck activity for a time and felt the ship turning. My gaze shifted out over the bow. The City of Mara soon began to grow out of the distant trees, backlit by the golden brilliance of a westering sun.

I sighed. Torlin was handsome, worldly and charming. Part of me was flattered by his attentions, even though I was sure that any young thing in a skirt would draw his eye as easily as I. He probably had women in each of the numerous ports he had mentioned. And good for him, I thought, for I certainly wasn’t ready to move beyond the memory of Savlian yet. I had tried twice and. . . it had not gone well.

In Valenwood an elf named Vandrelis from one of the mammoth-hunting plains tribes had courted me, eliciting hopeful stirrings in my heart. Though I balked after his first kiss, confessing my lingering grief over the loss of Savlian, he was both patient and attentive. I found myself beginning to hope he would kiss me again.

As the chief’s son, Vandrelis was next in line to lead his tribe and explained how important it was to him that any mate be able to provide an heir to succeed him. For a Bosmer to conceive, her totem must be defeated by that of her mate as the couple shares intimate pleasures. Vandrelis' totem was a tiger. His curiosity was piqued as I informed him I had two totems. When I told him that one was a butterfly, he was pleased. Dismay, however, was his reaction as I reluctantly advised him that my second totem was an ice dragon. We sadly agreed that I was not what he needed. There were plenty of wood elven maidens whose totems could be defeated by his powerful tiger, but I was not among them. The potential for love to blossom was over before it really began. Acadian had gently consoled me that knowing Vandrelis’ priorities so early in the courtship was better than learning them later.

I stared out over the bay as I recalled a subsequent attempt at romance after returning from Valenwood. Caccian Apinia was a member of the Bravil guard force and took quite the fancy to me. Unlike some under the command of Captain Viera Lerus, he rejected corruption and was both firm and fair in his duties. I was drawn to both his sense of honor and skill as a warrior. I had accepted an invitation from him for dinner at the Silverhome. Well, I ended up drinking too much and blubbering about Savlian. Between the wine and emptiness in my heart, I became clingy as he walked me home, even inviting him to come inside for the night. He gently declined.

Once fully sober the next day, I realized how chivalrous the man had been to not take advantage of an inebriated and vulnerable elf. I was so impressed that, when he asked, I readily agreed to try dinner together again – without the wine. This time, when he delivered me home, we chatted comfortably outside my door. Then he took me gently into his arms and our lips met. Instead of welcoming his kiss as I hoped I might, I stiffened as waves of guilt washed over me. I pulled away, crying and apologizing. I had selfishly implied to this kind man something I could not deliver. He was wise enough to understand, and our evening ended with a friendly but sad hug. The last thing he said that night still hung heavily in my heart: ‘You told me that Captain Matius’ final words to you included the hope that you live your long elven life. Until you truly embrace his wishes, no man can compete with the ghost of your hero.’

Had it not been for the steadfast strength, unconditional acceptance and vehement reassurances of my paladin that night, the next morning would have found me at the bottom of the Niben. Beneath the same waters that now lapped against the sides of the Peony Princess.