I'm crying Bobg. Thank you for bringing Angel back, and this prelude (or forward) brought tears! I am so glad you are writing again, keeping Angel alive to all of us. Your gift should never be wasted by sitting idle. Thank you for your kind words above.

Readers, do not be concerned if this makes no sense. I promise you Bobg understands it perfectly: Bobg - You get it. You've always gotten it. I'm glad you got it back.

* * *

Thank for bringing our diminutive friend back. She is a delight, and you bring her to life. This is such a radical departure from her oh-so-subtle relationship with her mentor. I am interested to see if her mentor fades to the background after such a dramatic introduction, or retains a prominent role in Angel's adventures.

T'is a happy day in Cyrodiil when one who has inspired several of us to love and share our charcters graces us with that which inspired us.

Reading that story I had the feeling that I had witnessed something of considerable importance and meaning.

Simply knowing how you feel about Angel, and now knowing why you left her sitting on that seat, I can appreciate the decision it must have took to have fired that save up again.

Truly humbling stuff indeed.

I think the best thing i can say is simply....

Angel lives.

I liked the addition of the Mentor - oh, and some Khajiit wants to send Angel a 100% chameleon armor so she never gets hurt! I have grown very attached to Angel from reading as many of her back stories as possible. I was so glad to see she is still "impatiently hopping from one foot to the other" - one of her many endearing habits.

Somebody stop me; please

Sarrah paused to look over the reception gathered in the distance. There was a Daedra Lord, two Xivilains, a Daedroth and a Storm Atronach. She was certainly not going to be charging into the middle of that crowd but they were standing in front of the very tower she wanted to enter.

She considered the fighting capability of each for a moment. The Daedra Lord was a melee fighter although he certainly could cast a destruction spell if the situation called for it. He would almost certainly be the first to want to close with her. The Xivilains would summons their Clannfear which were feisty, aggressive and durable. They would close as well. Following their summons, the Xivilains would close in next. The Storm Atronach and the Daedroth would use up their magicka before closing but once engaged they were formidable melee fighters. She would need to at least string them out or better yet, draw them off individually.

Noticing that the Daedra Lord was well in front of the others in relation to herself, Sarrah summoned a Daedric bow, knocked an iron arrow and let fly. She admired the skill and artistry of the marksman but she was a spell and sword fighter. The arrow would hopefully prompt the Daedra Lord to charge her without arousing the other tower guardians.

A sudden, sharp, distant movement showed her the arrow had reached it's target. a moment later the Daedra Lord was charging down the wide avenue of hardened lava at full tilt; claymore raised in preparation to cleave her in half.

Sarrah backed away not wanting the fight to spill into the territory of the others. As the Daedra Lord drew nearer he cast a shock spell easily side stepped because it had been expected. Sarrah could not stop the involuntary picture which always popped into her mind hearing the sizzle of the spell. A venison roast sizzled on an iron grill as she and Angel diced vegetables for the stew pot into which all would go once the roast had been properly browned. Angel always provided the herbs and . SLASH. Sarrah blocked the blow with her own claymore and shouted her exultation as she struck back.

Sarrah's mind flowed into the dance of battle. The claymore was good for only one strike at a time unlike the long sword she had used until recently with which she would make two rapid strikes before retreating again behind her shield, Even as she exchanged blows she was evaluating her equipment and how it compared to other combinations. Her advantage was the potions she kept at the ready and used liberally whenever needed. Of course the potions had limits but they were the edge she relied on. One always needed an edge to survive. Always.

Sarrah didn't bother to repair her armor. She had been careful to strike at the chinks, the little gaps, in her enemy's armor and the Daedra Lord's gear proved to be in almost perfect condition. An exchange of armor put her in first class order again.

Moving back within barely visible range, Sarrah prepared for the next phase of her assault. This time using a flare spell, she drew the attention of the two Xivilains. "Oblivion!" she thought, "I only wanted one."

Sarrah knew they would call their summon too soon. There would be a count down and the Clannfears, having used up their magicka, would evaporate in screeching anger. She backed away again; this time, not just to distance herself from the remaining guardians but to use up time.

At the last moment, Sarrah summoned her beloved Clannfear, and the onrushing Daedra diverted to it as if on cue. Now Sarrah drew a greenish vial and poured the contents onto her sword. Running straight to the first Xivilian, she slashed at the muscular figure and suffered the obligatory smash of it's fist.

Sarrah's first Clannfear went down under a flurry of strikes from the collected enemy but this too had been anticipated and Sarrah's arm spiked the air as the creature was recalled to the fight. More poisons, more blows, more Clannfears and the exhilaration of battle. Everything seemed more vivid during these moments. The skin of a Xivilain is slightly shiny. How do they get their hair to tuft that way. Whiff of sweating armpit.

Sarrah's ritual of stowing her sword immediately following the end of a battle was her way of drawing her mind back to reality. It encouraged that transition from warrior to tactician.

The gruesome task of cutting out the Xivilain hearts and making 'restore' potions took only moments in Sarrah's skilled hands.

Finally regarding the remaining creatures; Daedroth and Atronach, Sarrah's impatience called for a frontal assault.

She approached to within battle range noting the creatures turn and confront her. Casting her summons, she saw the Clannfear run toward the Atronach. She would have preferred it engage the Daedroth instead but she rarely had such fine control.

Sarrah turned to the Daedroth and in rapid succession sent weakness spells to surround the creature before the shock spell which drove it hurtling backward to lay twitching in death. A blow from the Atronach had just collapsed her summons as Sarrah turned her wrath on the hapless creature. Exploding stones culminated her rapid sequence of weakness and fire spells.

Sarrah checked her supplies and equipment. The real challenge lay ahead and she intended to be prepared. She entered the great tower and called "Here, kitty, kitty, kitty."

This is riveting! I am so glad you are back!

Bobg, Wonderful again! It might be me, but I have been living in Cyrodiil so long now that 'manna' sounds foreign compared to 'magicka', no?

In the middle of combat, Sarrah daydreams about cooking with Angel. How unexpectedly delicious! Then in the middle of another sequence mentions equally discordant things. Only you could do this and make it work. I like it.

You have mentioned how Buffy reminds you of Sarrah. I see why now. I adore Sarrah - how could one not?

You are writing by your own rules. Please don't stop or change. This is powerful, endearing and just so darn fun to read!

I am impatiently hoppng from one foot to the other.

Fixed. The thought occurred to me as well but some perversion of character said "no let's do it the wrong way."

I apologize for not acknowledging previous responses as is the general custom but this story literally was demanding to be told "NOW."

That line is pure magic.


Why ? A master storyteller is in full flight. Go, my friend, go.

By the way, just a question on the girls, i am a little short on background here.
What level did Sarrah get to ? It is obviously high based on the enemies.
And what level is Angel now ?

Quality work yet agian. Enjoyable and interesting are your tales. Keep it up.

Wow, you are on a roll Bobg. Two very passionate stories in the same day. You are mad I say, mad! bliviongate:

Thank you for the kind words.

As best I recall Sarrah made it to level 45. She loved the Planes of Oblivion and considered them her personal hunting ground. She also loved Benirus Manor and nice cloths. She was never totally comfortable with her Mage identity even though she started as a standard class Mage with the Sign of the Mage. She reinvented herself as a Warrior somewhere around level 25 but never stopped using her mage skills. She was in the process of closing gate #39 when she fell into a lava flow. Save-game titles showed over 500 hours when she died. I no longer have any of those save games; just the memories.

Angel is currently level 39. She is a Mage, heart and soul. She has never worn armor or carried a shield. Her speciality is Illusion and Alchemy. She is also a master of Conjuration but doesn't consider it her 'special' thing. She prefers to 'turn' forest creatures rather than kill them. With only her potions, poisons and spells, (no enchantments) she has almost godlike power. These days, she has a few sigil powered protective enchantments. She also has Chameleon enchanted cloths giving her 100% cloaking. She can augment that with spells and potions. She only uses them to protect others; never out of fear for her own safety. She has a gentle nature. Nevertheless, it's best not to make her angry. According to her stats she has had over 800 successful combats. She will never make it to Arch Mage because she knows what would happen to her friends in Bruma and she loves them dearly. Her curiosity about everything gets her in trouble and prompted her to join the Thieves Guild. She has a bad habit of peeking into peoples pockets just to see what they are carrying. She is also compulsive about talking to people and winning their friendship.

As always Bobg you grace the forum with your beautiful tales, i'm just glad that you returned to your passion and am hoping that you will continue writing for a long time.

Another Sarrah story

I enjoyed every word. Such an interesting character, I love her attitude B)

I have been terribly remiss in not thanking those who have so generously taken time to encourage me despite the fact that the sense of community and sharing of creativity is what I enjoy most, so let me try to remedy that failure now.

SubRosa: I am indeed and thanks for noticing Angel says "Hi. I like your sense of humor."

Winter Wolf; The line you quoted was to me the center of that piece. The fact that you saw the significance of what at first glance seemed to be a throwaway was very touching. Angel says "Hi. I am back and it feels great! Hope to see you in Cyrodiil some time."

DiGNiiTy; Thanks. I will keep them coming as long as there are stories that keep insisting that they be told and as long as there is someone interested in reading them. Angel says "Hi. I'll bet you think I'm a jabberhead. Well... I am."

Acadian; Angel says "Hi. More than anyone else, I owe my life to you. Thank you. I know you would have liked Sarrah. Everyone knew she was very brave. Nobody knew how kind she really was. I am brave too but in a different way. Please say Hi to Buffy for me."

jaycar: Angel says "Hi. There are many, many stories about Sarrah that have never been told. I will see to it that some of them are published here just for you."

UnknownK; Angel says "Hi. You are one of those to whom I owe my life. Thanks."

mALX1; Angel says "Hi. I have my own set of Chameleon enchantments but I am grateful to you for your thoughtfulness. I have been watching Maxical too."

Art Lesson

"How's this?" Angel queried; scrunching down so that her face was almost at the same level as the mountain lion's.

"It's better but for a portrait it's always best to be looking slightly up. It gives the subject a more noble appearance." I said. "Lure him to a hill and then we can stand on the downhill side."

Angel had been fascinated when I told her my hobby was art. "Could you teach me to make beautiful pictures Mentor?" She asked.

I thought about this world and it's varied landscapes. For all of my years of studying art, I could never surpass the grandeur of the mountains rising in the distance above Chorrols northern gate.

"In my world we have people who make pictures from what they see around them. It's called photography. It's certainly possible to do something like that here." I said. So today we were near the road leading south toward Bravil. It was sort of a 'gathering' trip to replenish her alchemy ingredients and to take advantage of the scenery to introduce art concepts.

The mountain lion was certainly a work of art in it's own right. Sun glinted from the tips of it's fur, the face offering a perpetual look of intense concentration. From time to time it opened its mouth to emit a soft growl as if testing it's voice against the time when it would need to howl it's challenge. At last, it drifted off a few yards and Angel made to follow him but I stopped her. "No.'" I said, "Let him go. I want to tell you about contrasts and his constant moving about will just distract us. Walk with me."

Looking around as we strolled through a ravine, i searched for a view which would allow me to illustrate the points I wanted to make. "There are many forms of contrasts in art." I began. "'Near' and 'far' are contrasts and you should always try to keep that one in mind. Especially in portraits where it seems so unimportant. A distant landscape can emphasize the nearness of the figure. Get too close to your subject's face and the nose will stand out and look odd." Angel giggled as I flashed her an image of a portrait with huge nostrils looking like they were about to snort the viewer into the picture.

"Contrast can take many forms." I continued. "Light and dark are excellent for an artist to use. Colors can be warm or cool and placing them side by side can crea...."

A distant howl had distracted my dry dissertation. Immediately, I sensed the sinking feeling in Angel and the urgent need to go see.

Angel trotted back in the direction we had come from; her mood now one of desperation. In the distance we caught sight of a Legion patrolman, his sword rising and falling repeatedly to be followed by the angry squall of a mountain lion. We arrived at the road just as the Legionnaire sheathed his sword. Bending down, he verified that the lion was dead, then mounted and, turning north, he prodded his horse into a slow walk.

Angel walked over and stood looking down at the mountain lion. "He doesn't look much different than he did before." she commented. "Mentor, how do you show the contrast between life and death?"

edit: Oops. I meant to include this picture. Thanks for reminding me Acadian.
http://profile.imageshack.us/user/bgoodwin91006/images/detail/#19/screenshot2ky.jpg

Angel, how do I express how reading this made me feel? I can't. Here, perhaps some of these things can help :wub: :twirl:

Bobg-
You are like a wild surge. We have no idea what to expect from you except that it will delight. Oh my goodness, don't ever send this man a rule book! Did this amazingly heightened level of creativity come during your long break? So much freedom in your writing. So much ability to talk to Angel.

Each of your stories has been so wonderful, yet so different. Keep surprising us.

Please.

Edit: PS - I look forward to seeing artistic screenshots composed by Angel.

Wow, I really like this installment. I myself am on a bit of an artistic rampage as of late. Well since this semester I am taking Drawing, Design Fundamentals, and a Digital Media class. (Art History is my last class, but the least artsy of the four if you ask me)

Line, color, value, composition, contrast, and so much more have been my life as of late, but the question, "How do you show the contrast between life and death?" never popped into my head. Angle is a far superior being than I am. Keep up the great work.

Acadian is spot on.
It is the ability to let the pen control the writer, and not the other way around, that makes your stories so good.
Iam always fighting against my writing becoming 'predictable', and there in, I have just realized my error....

Thanks for the background info on the girls. No wonder you still love Sarrah so much.

Does Angel ever go into Oblivion gates for alchemy reasons, or are the memories too strong for you?

Magnificent! I very much like how you turned a discussion of photography into one of philosophy.

One of the best things i enjoy about your style of writing is that it branches and bonds both the real world and Tamriel, it's amazing how you do it, i almost feel like going to Tamriel myself, literally!

As always your work is magnificent and thanks for the comment, it touched me :wub:, keep up the great work master of the pen :hugs:

Bobg, you never cease to amaze. I loved this, teaching concepts to Angel. I'm glad she has her own camo, I was worried about her. This mentor role you have added is exciting, and opens up new dimensions for your stories. I love it!

I know I'm throwing these out terribly fast and not waiting for needed feedback but they are like a burst dam. Sorry.

Fighting

"You call this a fight?" Sarrah shouted. In her element, Sarrah slashed at the Daedra Lord, unable to hold back the laugh that bubbled up from the exhilaration of combat. Fire, lightning, and frost were willing servants, but the satisfying shock of impact transmitted from the hilt of her sword gave her the feedback to know that she was inflicting the desired pain.

***************************

"That sounds like a fight." Sarrah thought. Dropping off her horse, she left the road, running cross-country in the direction of the sound. Once in view, she never knew for sure what she would do next. Sometimes she just watched feeling hypnotized by the sight of a battle in which she had no part. At other times, her compassion for the overworked legion patrols or some non-combatant townsman would impel her to get involved. In this case, it proved to be a bandit attacking what appeared to be one of the legion bay horses. Sarrah rushed to enter the fray. Before she could reach the combatants, the bay had bolted and the bandit gave chase. It didn't take long to convince Sarrah that she could not keep up and she turned back. She knew that what she had seen could only end one way. Arriving back at the road she pressed her damp cheek against Charger's powerful neck.

****************************

"It looks like I'm going to lose this fight." Sarrah thought sadly. Standing by the fireplace in The Count's Arms Inn, she considered the dwindling patronage. She certainly didn't want to 'come-on' to Quill Weave. An old phrase came to Sarrah which described her situation perfectly; "The little package that was delivered but never opened." Standing in the warm glow of the fire in her favorite blue velvet dress had been carefully staged to present herself at her most alluring. Now Sarrah headed for the door and the empty mansion at the end of an abandoned, late night street, relieved only by the warm glow of the street lights and the city patrol.

Your 'burst dam' is our treat, keep flooding! You have the gentlest touch with your writing, really nice Bobg!

:read: This one made me think. Then I thought. Then I got it, I thought. Then I read again. Then I thought some more. Then I realized how understated and beautiful the last one in particular was.

Then I understood.

And now I understand much more about Sarrah. How fortunate for me!

Bobg, you're wonderful!

Your writing poses more questions than answers, or perhaps it doesn't?