In chapter 61, Buffy traded information with Ungarion, the high-end black marketeer who owns A Warlock's Luck. She learned more about closing Oblivion Gates, then shared what she knew about the Shivering Isles. Ungarion revealed that he sold a powerful drain marksman scroll but, fearing for his own life, would not divulge the name of his customer. Buffy suspects foul play for the tournament may be afoot.

SubRosa- Thanks! I also have always liked Ungarion.

mALX- I'm so glad you like the storyline! Stand back - I'm trying to build plot! I know I can never match your mastery of that, but the tournament will have some subplots winding through it. I hope you like where it will go.

bobg- As I intimated to mALX, this is a whole new foray for me. The tournament is an attempt for this simple writer to try and add (temporarily) a touch of plot weaving and complexity during Buffy's 'vacation' in Bravil.

Wolf- Wow! Those were some mighty kind words. Thanks!

hauteecole rider- Thanks so much for the support and encouragement! Buffy should just talk to your old soldier about closing gates. Julian would straighten her right out!

Destri- Thank you so much for cuing on the significance of Buffy learning that she might survive closing a gate, and the dichotomy that lies in many of us, including Buffy.

Digz- I am so excited that you are enjoying my experimental journey into this storyline. Your encouragement is so inspirational.

mcbeanie- Thanks for keeping up. I really value that you continue to read Buffy's story my friend!

Koala- Thank you also for noting Buffy's realization that there just might be a future after Kvatch!

treydog- Thank you so much. As always, your encouragement is like a soothing potion. I'm so glad you thought I did ok with the conversation.


62 Bravil - The Tournament of Archers, Part 6

"Buffy, you look terrible," the Bosmer teased with a sparkle in his eye. "Drink too much last night?"

"Thanks Daenlin, just what a girl likes to hear in the morning." I frowned as I plopped onto the bench next to Daenlin and leaned into him for warmth against the cool dawn. "I didn't sleep very well." I had been up late making potions and conjuring a course of action to investigate who Ungarion may have sold that damn drain marksman scroll to. Somebody dangerous and violent, it seemed. Oh well, I would deal with that later. So much for a relaxing week in Bravil. I sighed.

Daenlin placed an arm around me. "Pre-tournament nerves keeping you awake? Don't worry, you'll do fine."

"Thanks." I managed a smile as I pulled some fruit and cheese from my pack to share. I also drank down a soothing potion to combat fatigue. "I'm sure that's all it is," I lied. Looking around the tournament area, there were a dozen or so archers inspecting arrows and milling about. They were waiting for the judges to declare enough light to begin shooting. "Well, it's day two of qualifications. Are we still in the running?"

"We are," Daenlin declared proudly. "I was talking with the judges earlier. In fact we're still the top two. Say Buffy, I noticed posters all over town this morning. In fact there's one by the judge's tent. Now that there's a hint of light, would you be a dear and go see what it says?"

"Of course, Master." I stood, feeling better after the potion, and walked the ten paces or so over to the red and white striped judge's tent. Attached to a wooden sign that had been planted in the ground, was a parchment bearing the stag symbol of the city above some official looking writing:

To all who shall see these presents, greeting. Know ye that Count Regulus Terentius, welcomes you to the fair waterside city of Bravil, and publishes the following information, that ye may more fully enjoy the Tournament of Archers.

During the three day qualification period, desirous contenders shall each shoot one round. For this tournament, a round comprises three flights of three arrows each. The first flight is medium-range, slow-fire. The second flight is medium-range, rapid-fire. The third flight is long-range, slow-fire. On the fourth day, the top ten archers appear before the judges, and each shoot three rounds. So shall be chosen the Champion Archer of Cyrodiil.

"Oh, it's just information we already know about the tournament, but it's good for spectators and visitors," I said to Daenlin as I snuggled back into my warm spot next to him. "I took a look at the shooters while I was up there. My friend Lum gro-Baroth was right. There are several Fighters Guild types in queue to qualify this morning."

"Yes," said Daenlin. "Quite a few of the guild is out here to cheer them on it seems."

Now that the potion had more fully opened my eyes and there was a promise of sun on the horizon, I looked around and nodded.

"They certainly have some camaraderie," continued Daenlin. "On the way out here this morning, I saw them all ceremonially kissing The Lucky Old Lady and joking."

I giggled at the image of big strong fighters kissing the stone statue. They were certainly here supporting their contingent of archers, teasing and laughing with each other. I couldn't help but remember that none of my own guild had come out to see me shoot for qualification. I smiled though, as I pulled Daenlin's arm back around me and leaned into all the archery support I could ever want.

It had never occurred to me to join the Fighters Guild instead of the Mages Guild; besides, I had come to love magic almost as much as my precious bow. Nevertheless, I envied the fighters' ability to use armor and swords - something I figured I could never master. I didn't even know the Fighters Guild accepted archers until I had met Parwen in Skingrad. I was pleased to see that she was here this morning.

"Buffy, do you know who that slender red head is?" asked Daenlin as he pointed to the group of fighters.

The Bosmer wore full leathers. Her pale skin contrasted sharply with her brilliant locks, which I suspected were dyed. The distinctive color looked right for her, and probably resulted from using a paste made from the leaves of henna plants. The young face was quite attractive, were it not for a somewhat somber expression; she did not look to be quick with a smile. It was the red hair though, that triggered a memory from the day before. "No Daenlin, but her description fits a new fighter that Lum mentioned yesterday."

Our conversation was cut short as the judges began briefing the hopeful shooters. As the first archer stepped up to begin his round, I noticed that Nordinor and Aradroth had arrived. They were seated together. Aradroth was pointing at the archers and talking, while Nordinor busily applied a quill to the book on his lap.

"So, if it isn't the Bosmer twins."

The sarcastic voice caused us to look up at the tall elf standing before us. Daenlin replied, "Good day Honditar. I hope you had a safe trip from Chorrol. Competing this year?"

"Winning is more like it," the prematurely gray Altmer sniffed. "I expect the two of you will need to combine your scores to match what I will shoot tomorrow. And you, little girl, did you ever take my advice on using poison to help you kill deer?"

I cocked my head as I tried to make sense of his math. The Altmer from Chorrol fancied himself a mountain man. Daenlin and I both knew him, and had agreed that the term blowhard might be more accurate. "Well, I've somehow managed to subdue the beasts withou-"

"You know," Honditar interrupted as he examined his fingernails, "the Chorrol city guard still suspects me of pulling off the amazing shot that killed that witch Earana by the Great Oak some time ago. They have no evidence to back it up of course, for a true mountain man would leave no trace of his passing."

Daenlin chuckled. "I'm sure you're right Honditar. Such evidence would certainly be dust in the wind, given your gift of hot air."

The Altmer's haughty look changed to an indignant sneer, "Just wait you little tree-hugger, your reign of dominating these tournaments is coming to an end." Honditar then stormed off.

Daenlin and I smiled and shook our heads at each other. The exchange with the Altmer brought back a twinge of guilt. I had called it preemptive self-defense, but the Dark Brotherhood called my elimination of Earana, murder. Why was Honditar so cocky about the tournament? Did he have plans to-

"Here comes the first of the fighters." Daenlin nudged me. "Now watch, and provide me your assessments, Apprentice."

As Lum gro-Baroth shot, I noticed the rippling muscles of his bare back and shoulders. He had the strength to hold full tension on his bowstring for several seconds - long enough to carefully aim. He therefore skipped the step of aiming with partial tension, even during slow-fire. I was amazed. What an advantage that was, and it showed during his rapid-fire flight. Most of us, during rapid-fire, drew our bowstring to full tension immediately and quickly released, but Lum was used to that for all of his shots, so it came more naturally for him. His long-range shooting was only fair.

"Lots of strength, decent talent and well-practiced," I offered.

Daenlin nodded.

Kurz gro-Baroth stepped up. The armor-clad Orc used the same style as his brother, but did not have the control to shoot tight groups of three. One of his arrows even missed the target completely on the long-range flight.

I shook my head, "Same strength and natural ability, but I expect he lacks the devotion to practice of his brother. Lum says that Kurz spends more time in the taverns than on the range."

"Yes," agreed Daenlin, "talent without hard work will not hit the target."

The red head stepped up next. That would simply not do, calling her 'the red head'. I needed to check the registry and find out her name. Her bow was a simple one, of yew wood. The hand grip appeared to be iron, as did the protective ear caps on both ends of the stave. While shooting a pretty good first flight, she displayed solid natural ability and focus, albeit without the smoothness that comes from years of daily practice. I was quite surprised to see her achieve three bulls eyes during rapid-fire, but then perplexed to see her fall apart somewhat at longer range with the slow-fire.

I looked at Daenlin, mystified. "Um, good natural talent, needs daily practice, but why is she so good at rapid-fire?"

"She's shooting intuitively, Buffy. Given her overall performance, I expect she doesn't even realize it. No doubt, she envisions a connection between her and the target and responds without thinking." Daenlin chuckled and continued, "on the slower fire, she thinks too much. With a good instructor who understands, and dedication to the bow, she could be a superb archer." Daenlin pointed towards the range. "Here comes Parwen."

The sun had risen enough to gently dance off the rings of Parwen's mail hauberk as she moved. Her shooting style was consistent and flawless, no doubt resulting from years of devoted practice. I found it odd that her accuracy, while respectable, did not match the perfection of her style. I recalled her remark to me that she was a better teacher than archer. I nodded to myself as I now recognized what she meant.

When Parwen finished, I turned to Daenlin and said tentatively, "She knows her stuff and works really hard. I mean, her form is classically perfect. It seems almost tragic that perhaps she simply lacks a high degree of natural ability. Perhaps her gifts are better used for teaching?"

Daenlin nodded. "Yes, a bit sad actually. She has always worked hard, and is testimony to how very far one can go with effort. Parwen is a fine archer, but alas, I fear she will never be a master. Greatness requires one to have both a high degree of natural talent and a truly passionate devotion to the bow," he then playfully tapped me on the nose and added, "like you, my Apprentice."

Great chapter! It was hard to beat the one before it, though. You will have to do another tournament when Maxical is alive so she can join in the fun! Hmmm, who would need to go to the chapel for healing then, lol.....Count Regulus Terentius? No, he may consider it deliberate, it would have to be someone she wouldn't go to jail for. Oh, I hate to miss all this excitement by my character being dead! This tournament storyline is the most fun! Awesome idea Acadian!!!!


EDIT : My vote is cast that the culprit is Reman Broder !!!!!! (Per Bobg's suggestion to write them on our comment!)

There was so much to like about this chapter that it's hard to know where to begin. While Buffy's interactions with Daenlin are always a pleasure to read, I particularly enjoyed your portrayal of Honditar as an overbearing braggart, and the flashback to Buffy's amazing shot on Earana.

"Yes," agreed Daenlin, "talent without hard work will not hit the target."

Ah yes, the wisdom of Acadian Daenlin. At the risk of seeming presumptuous, this quote appears to apply to you, my friend. By engaging your talent in the diligent work of expanding Buffy's story, you have gained an enviable ability to weave your plotlines together. Keep them coming!


Pure mALX! :blink: :lmao:

Another fun post. This was one of my favorites of the tournament arc so far. We see the plot thicken a bit more with the appearance of Honditar, who has now placed himself in the running for possibly being the one to buy that drain marksman scroll.

This was a clever metaphor, very TES:
conjuring a course of action

Now who could this be?
The Bosmer wore full leathers. Her pale skin contrasted sharply with her brilliant locks, which I suspected were dyed. The distinctive color looked right for her, and probably resulted from using a paste made from the leaves of henna plants. The young face was quite attractive, were it not for a somewhat somber expression; she did not look to be quick with a smile. It was the red hair though, that triggered a memory from the day before. "No Daenlin, but her description fits a new fighter that Lum mentioned yesterday."

This had me laughing out loud!
"I'm sure you're right Honditar. Such evidence would certainly be dust in the wind, given your gift of hot air."

Buffy's internal dialogue on the killing of Earana reminds me of one of my favorite lines from the movie Pitch Black, where one character is trying to talk another into killing someone for them to use to distract the monsters:
"doctors choose who lives and who dies, they call it triage"
"funny, when I did it they called it murder..."



Nits:
Looks like you have an errant quotation mark at the end of this sentence:
Did he have plans to-"

Methinks you have cleverly provided enough suspects to totally cover your tracks regarding that Scroll-of-Damocles. I hope the Buffy doctrine will not have to be invoked again but as always, I prefer the real Buffy to a self censored, politically correct version.

May I suggest a little fun experiment. Everyone who has a suspect in mind PM Acadian with just the name of the one you think has the scroll. Acadian can (If he wishes), announce the sleuths who guessed correctly after the culprit is revealed in the story. Or you could just brag in your post revelation comments.

yessss. I didn't get caught way behind :hubbahubba:
I wonder who has the scroll?

Now this is what I need in real life. It would help with the 24hour non stop gaming!!


Well, well, who is this we have here??
I thought this person was too busy eyeing off the local Bravil ladies to get involved in the tournament??!!
Awesome :twirl:



mALX, what are you thinking??? Bravil does not have enough healing potions to deal with the all the carnage that Maxical would cause.
We would have to get new shipments brought in from the Summerset Isle.

EDIT - Great idea by Bobg to have a little guessing game contest. I am in for sure.
Now let me see, who might it be ...??

I honestly don't even know what to say this time. It is hard to explain what it is about this chapter that makes it so amazing, but let me just say it is one of my favorite so far. Honestly top five for sure. The playfulness, and humor, that is present whenever Buffy and Daenlin are together is just plan awesome. I love what you did with Honditar literally had me laughing out loud. The archery portion of this chapter was fun, really fun. I truly love the bow, and you just showed so many different styles in just one chapter...priceless. Keep up the great work my friend.

~Digz~

Oooh, Honditar needs a new bow up his ***!

I honestly enjoyed this one tremendously - the differing archery styles, the dialogue, and the introduction of a new suspect! I also liked the interleaving of TF with BF.

No, it's a good thing Maxical is not there - I can't even begin to imagine the chaos she would generate there! What with jealous Fathis, obsessed Vincent, soppy Janus, and let's not forget the womanizing Pappy - Maxical doesn't even have to touch a bow before arrows start flying everywhere but at the target butts!

As others have noted, this is a perfect gem of a chapter. The wonderful interaction between Buffy and Daenlin has the mark of a writer who is comfortable in his own skin- and who knows how close friends talk.

Honditar was spot on- I never could warm up to him...

And a mysterious Bosmer warrior woman makes an appearance, as well.

The scene of Daenlin teaching Buffy by having her observe and critique the competitors' technique was genius.

Did I mention that I really loved this one?

This was fun. Keep that henna stuff out of your hair Buffy, blondes have more fun! It was fun to hear her comments on the other archer types and their styles. Daenlin is so sweet! But I don't like that Honditar!

HWUT!!!

I come back after an age and THE MYSTERY IS STILL NOT SOLVED???


WHO HAS THE DANGED SCROLL AND WHO IS THE INTENDED VICTIM!!!


ARRRGH!!!

In chapter 62, Daenlin and Buffy saw the sun rise on the second day of qualifications. They watched a number of archers shoot, including four hopefuls from the Fighters Guild. Aradroth was carefully observing the shooting, apparently to check his competition and/or advise Nordinor for bookmaking purposes. Present also, and voicing arrogant but ominous words, was Honditar.

mALX- I'm so sorry Maxical won't make the tourney. That won't keep her friends from talking about though I bet. Thank you!

Destri- Thank you for the kind words of encouragement. They mean a great deal given the amazing quality of your own wonderful writing.

SubRose- Thanks for the wonderful review. I'm so tickled you like it. I could visualize the red headed Bosmer so clearly from following your incredible story. :nod: Thanks for catching that nit for me.

bobg- Thank you so much for your acceptance and understanding of who Buffy is.

mcbeanie- I really appreciate you staying with us! Thank you!

Wolf- Soothing potions, yes. Eyeing the ladies? The Teresa that Buffy saw looked pretty darn serious about her shooting (and pretty good at it too). Thanks!

Digz- Wow! I know I sound like a broken record, but you always capture what I'm trying to do, then summarize it for me so I know how close I am to target. Digz, you are priceless! :twirl:

hauteecole rider- The tournament not only has more moving parts than I am used to, it also crosses thread boundaries in several places with several threads. Thank you for the confidence-inspiring support!

treydog- You indicated the dialogue between Buffy and Deanlin seemed natural and reflective of their relationship - very high praise indeed from one who is the master of this very thing. Thank you.

Koala- Yes! A blonde seems the rarest of heroines, no? Angel-brown, Sarrah-black, Maxical-red, Athynae-red, Teresa-red, Zerina-red, Julian-gray. . . . Thank you for your kind and enthusiastic words!

Foxy- Welcome back! Thanks for catching up.



63 Bravil - The Tournament of Archers, Part 7

Through eyes half closed against the wind, the pink blur that appeared at the fringe of my range was large, and streaking towards us. Sensing my thoughts, Superian quickly pulled us back from our intoxicating thunder and speed. Before another heartbeat could pass, the Black Horse Courier stallion abruptly drew up beside us. The mist of heavy breathing from the two horses swirled together producing an eerie fog in the cool morning air.

"Hail, Buffy!" The owner of the soft Breton accent continued, "how fares my sister of the black horse?" As she dragged a sleeve across her face to remove some dust, I could recognize her. The stallion, despite being tired, was agitated. He stretched his neck towards Superian, snorted and blew through flaring nostrils at her.

"Good morning Surani. What news do you carry?" Superian was stamping her front hooves upon the road. I did not try to dissuade her as she pranced sideways, several paces away from the stallion and turned her head away from him.

"Well, the current edition of the paper has several articles in it about the tournament." The Breton backed her mount away slightly, and worked to settle him with limited success. "Things in Leyawiin are quiet as they normally are when the Countess is visiting her mother in Chorrol. Oh, I have a package for you, Buffy." A small hand slipped behind her into a saddlebag, produced a box about the size of a fist and lightly tossed it to me. "Well, pleasant journeys. We must be off now." The black horse snorted again, and quickly opened the distance between us as I watched the trailing dust disappear north towards Bravil.

Fumbling the package open with an impatient curiosity, I found a ring bearing a raised image - the rearing white stallion of Leyawiin. It was set into an oval jade background and looked very much like a tiny version of the Leyawiin shield. The ring had been wrapped in a piece of parchment that bore the firm strokes of a quill.

My Pal Dame Buffie,
The Count is real happy with all the black bows I keep bringing him. He gave me a couple rings, one for each of us. I had that smart Arhgoni Arghony lizard fellow who is the smith make my ring big and yours little. I hope it fits and you like it. The Count said I been doing a real good job and can have some time off soon. Good luck at Kavotch.
Your fellow Night Erroneous, Mazoga

The small circle slid perfectly onto my finger. It also gave no hint of any enchanted glow. I looked at the beautiful ring through moist eyes for several moments, then whispered, "you were right when you told me not all women can be as beautiful as you, Sir Mazoga." Finally, Superian sensed my readiness to move on and we continued south.

After Daenlin and I had finished watching almost a dozen hopefuls shoot for qualification, I had threaded my way to the stables, through the early bustle and pvssyr of merchants busily setting up their wares for the day. Although exercising Superian was the main reason for my ride, I had fresh vegetables in my pack as a welcoming gift for Alawen. The ranger from Anvil was alone at Bawnwatch Camp and I figured, being far from home, she might like a visitor.

My thoughts kept searching for the troublesome drain marksman scroll that Ungarion had loosed into Bravil. Why did he so fear the purchaser? Gradually, ideas of how to investigate were forming. No doubt, answers could be found under the dark side of Bravil - literally. There were those who might know something, but they preferred the shadows of night.

As Superian and I approached the short bridge to Bawnwatch Island, I noted a pair of large trees that had each been adorned with a linen archery target; both bulls eyes were shredded.

Turning towards a still early morning sun, we started across the sturdy bridge. I could see a recently installed tripwire that was currently lowered to the surface of the heavy planks - no doubt a warning device for use when sleeping. "Hail, ranger," I called loudly. As the Bosmer rose from the far side of a small tent, I saw her fluidly equip a bow and quiver. I added, "it's Buffy from Bravil. We met yesterday."

http://i668.photobucket.com/albums/vv43/Acadian6/Buffy%20I/ScreenShot257.jpg

The Bosmer set down her weaponry and approached empty handed. "You are welcome here young wood elf." Although addressing me, her eyes were on Superian. She held out both hands, palms up as the mare lowered her head to investigate. I noticed that two fingers on Alawen's right hand bore the same heavy bowstring callusing as my own. Superian accepted the ranger's calm manner, and the two touched foreheads. Alawen said soothingly, "you're built for speed aren't you? Well-mannered, but a one-elf horse."

"Superian is all of that," I replied for the mare. "I'm surprised she accepts you so readily. I trust her judgment though, and it speaks highly for you, ranger."

"As does her fine condition and spirit speak for you. The bond between Superian and her elf is strong." She looked at me and added somewhat awkwardly, "forgive me Buffy. I live in the wild and most of my friends are animals. I'm afraid I pay the price by lacking social graces. Please, graze your mare. I just finished some practice on yonder targets and was making some tea. Join me?"

"I'd like that Alawen," I smiled as I slid to the ground. Superian glanced at the ranger's white mare on the far end of the small island, and lowered her head to graze, unconcerned.

Oh, Mazoga continues to be her charming self! I adore Mazoga, both in the game and in the BF. And yes, she is one of the most beautiful women in the game with her good spirit, her brave heart, and her sense of right and wrong. And yes, Julian adores her, too.

Buffy continues to show her outstanding kindness in bringing Alawen fresh vegetables way out at Bawnwatch Camp. It is what I've come to expect of this darling Bosmer girl. Her loyalty to her friends is something both Julian and I appreciate.

Well done on describing the interactions between the courier's stallion and Superian. Obviously she is not in season. Of course, stallions can be trained to know the difference between work and stud duty - a couple that I've worked with know by how their nose chains are threaded whether they're going to do saddle work or stud duty, and they behave accordingly around the lovely ladies.

The interaction between Alawen and Superian is quite authentic, as well.

Excellent writing and interactions throughout. I thoroughly enjoyed this chapter, as I have all along!

Yeah! That scene passed the major test! Awesome write - BUT WE STILL DON'T KNOW WHO THE .... ARGH !!!!!!! :rofl: I love that Alawen put a trap across the bridge to warn her of an enemy approaching! What a cool little detail that was !!

:stare:

and WHEN will we know the answer to the mystery...


... insert treydog puppy eyes here...


PUH LEEZE????

I remember the time when you first started writing about Buffy, Acadian: I really liked the story but for reasons that are beyond me, I never continued reading. I think it was probably due to the fact I was so busy that I had little time to do anything.

But today I was thinking about this fan fic and how much I really liked it, so I thought 'why don't I start reading the whole thing? I've got the time.' And so I started from chapter 1, and in a few hours, I was on chapter 27. I loved every moment.

Buffy is such a brilliant character because she is so.... real. I really do like her, and you've done a great job of making me feel for Buffy and even the side characters. Your writing is superb, too; your descriptions are fantastic and I love how you have found a balance between real-world realism and what it's like in the TES universe -- it must be so fun RPing as Buffy.

So, yeah; this is an excellent fan fic, and I can't wait to read more! Please, keep this going for a long time. :goodjob:

On a side note, I noticed that the new character I am RPing with on Oblivion has a quite similar story to Buffy. Weird. :wacko: This story is actually making me want to write a fan fic about him -- it's that good!

I liked your description of the mist created by the breath of the two horses. It really pulled me into that Nibenay dawn. Even more so, I liked how you described the reaction of Buffy's mare to the courier's stallion. That is one of the reasons many ancient societies such as the Sarmatians used only mares or geldings for war.

This was also a very cute little note:
Things in Leyawiin are quiet as they normally are when the Countess is visiting her mother in Chorrol
I bet everyone with a tail is happier when she is gone!

Yay for Mazoga. I have been missing her these last few chapters. It is funny how she grows on you. I especially loved how she signed her name!

There is a tremendous pleasure in traveling with Buffy as she lives each moment to it's rich fullness. I am so glad you are not rushing through this but savoring the moment just as the best roleplaying within the game is done.

This chapter was adorably short and sweet. It had a homely feel to it that I liked.


Very interesting indeed.......
I wonder where this might lead?

I see that Mazoga is a graduate of the Lord Rugdumph Letter-Writing School! The mis-spelling of 'Argonian' before finally settling on 'lizard' is a perfect touch.

This meting between Buffy and my favorite NPC Alawen is one I have looked forward to since you announced the tournament. Color me riveted!

Okay, I've finished reading every single chapter. THIS. IS. BRILLIANT!

The amount you have improved since starting Buffy's story is amazing, Acadian, and I know you're only going to improve. I'm actually jealous that you have got such an amazing character and of your writing ability.

Love the fan fic, and I eagerly await the next chapter.

I loved this one. The opening scene of streaks and speed and thunder and swirling horse fog was just magic! It sent a chill up my back. I'm happy that you mentioned Mazoga again. I remember how likable you made the big green girl and it was great to hear from her. If Superian likes Alawen, then so do I.

I loved Mazoga's letter... and her self-awareness... erronous.... indeed :lmao:

In chapter 63, it was still early on day two of tournament qualifications. Buffy received a signet ring of the court of Leyawiin from Mazoga, via a Black Horse Courier rider south of Bravil. As Buffy and Superian arrived at Bawnwatch Camp, the ranger Alawen welcomed them.

hauteecole rider- Thank you for the kind words regarding Mazoga, Buffy's thoughtfulness and Superian. The real Superian died in 1982; she was a thoroughbred hunter/jumper and filled my grandfather's house and barn with blue ribbons during her long life. Buffy's mare is a mix of elven fantasy and 'my little pony' with a dash of realism; certainly nothing approaching what someone of your horse skills can portray. The encouragement and support of one so knowledgeable makes me feel wonderful indeed! :nod:

mALX- Please let me thank you for your assistance with Superian. Your own experience as a horsewoman has helped me over many, many stories. You well know the inspiration behind Superian and, indeed, Buffy as well. Thank you my friend.

Foxy- Buffy seems to think she will have more success investigating at night, so I suspect she will learn more after the sun sets on her current day. :ninja: Unfortunately, she is easily distracted. "Ooh! Shiny! Can we go see?"

Chriso123- I am so appreciative that you took the time to fully catch up. Words fail to express my thanks for your kind encouragement. I hope my humble efforts will continue to draw your discriminating eye.

SubRosa- The opening scene of the two horses was a powerful image that I could visualize and tried to paint. I'm so glad I had some success. I loved your comment about everyone in Leywiin with a tail being happy the Countess was not there! Yay for Mazoga indeed! :celebration:

bobg- Thank you for the soothing words indicating your preference that Buffy not rush, but savor her visit to Bravil. I estimate we are about half way through the tournament storyline. Now. . . Alawen is from Anvil - :whisper: do you know anyone there?

Wolf- Thank you Wolf. Your compliment makes me smile - your words came close to describing my objective for Buffy's stories: comfort food.
Ah yes, the mystery of the scroll. Buffy hopes to find some answers tonight.

Destri- I am delighted that Alawen is your favorite NPC. Like Mazoga, I suspect she will weave in and out of Buffy's life.

Koala- Swirling horse fog, Mazoga, Alawen, a chill up your back. Thank you so much for the kind words!

Remko- Thanks! It was great fun trying to capture 'Zoga, along with a touch of humor, in her letter.


64 Bravil - The Tournament of Archers, Part 8

"I found Anvil to be quite beautiful when I visited there for one of my University recommendations." I offered the conversation starter as I sat down by the softly crackling fire of Bawnwatch Camp. "How do you like living there?"

"It is where I belong," Alawen replied as she used a damaged arrow to transfer her kettle from the fire. "Golden grass that dances in the salt-laden breezes, the sun slipping nightly into the Abecean Sea. . . ." An almost dreamy look on Alawen's face emphasized her love for the coastal city. "I have lived there all my life; in fact, I was born in the Anvil Chapel. We stayed there under the protection of Dibella until I was five. Mother then found work as the Countess' ranger for the Gold Coast, and we moved to Troll Candle Camp which remains my home." She passed me a simple wooden cup with steaming tea. "What of you and Bravil, Buffy?"

"Born and raised there," I declared. "I - I know it doesn't match the beauty of Anvil or The Gold Coast, but I love the river - it runs right through the middle of my city. I also find myself very at home in these surrounding forests. I was orphaned by the age of twelve and the city raised me, so I know lots of people there who feel like family."

"I'm sorry to hear of your loss - and at such a young age." Alawen's look was soft and genuine. The elf was quite pretty when she smiled. "I have not traveled enough to be familiar with your city. I have heard of it though."

I was mildly embarrassed. My love for Bravil was genuine, but I knew what people from other places thought about it. Imagining the things Alawen had heard, I changed the subject. "Who taught you to shoot?" I jerked a thumb over my shoulder towards the targets on the river bank.

"Mother. She was the finest archer you could imagine, and started teaching me when I was eight with a small bow she made. Since then, I've shot every day of my life. It is who I am." She blinked her hazel eyes several times, then watched the moist vapors rise from the cup cradled between her hands. "For the last several years, I have occasionally offered training to marksmen who seek me out. I like sharing what Mother taught me." Looking up from her tea, she continued, "the extra gold, along with a small salary the Countess pays me, helps to keep my quiver filled. It also goes towards the meager supplies I need from the dockside general store in town." She looked directly at me. "And you? For one so young, you have the eyes of a trained marksman."

I chuckled. "Alawen, I started shooting when I was eight with a small bow just like you. My archery master Daenlin made if for me. I understand when you say it's who you are."

"I see in your eyes and face that you do," smiled Alawen. "This Daenlin must be a fine master."

"Oh yes," I gushed, "he's like the father I never knew; well, maybe more like a grandfather, but yes he's a great archer." I added proudly, "he's the champion of the last several tournaments." I lowered my voice, even as I realized neither the trees nor Superian would tell my secrets. "As much as I love my bow, I just can't get very excited about shooting it for some title though. I'm only really competing to support my master."

"I know exactly what you mean Buffy," Alawen returned my smile and nodded knowingly. "I have never competed before and am only here now because I was so asked by the Lady Anvil. She has always been kind to me, so I am happy to oblige. Countess Millona - that is what she likes me to call her - asked that I shoot my best, and I shall."

Alawen's confident manner then faded, and she seemed hesitant. "I am sorry, but my lack of worldliness is why the name of your master Daenlin is unfamiliar to me." Looking down into her cup, she continued self-consciously, "in fact, living the way I do, I am unfamiliar with many things. I - I don't talk with people very often." She stirred some life into the diminishing campfire with her arrow. "I am more comfortable with animals."

I could sense the ranger wanted to talk, yet she was tentative about doing so. "You sound very close to your mother, but speak of her as if she is gone?" I prompted gently.

"Mother was my best friend. She was killed about six years ago - marauders." Alawen averted my gaze and reached behind her for another piece of firewood, as if to terminate that part of the conversation. "I had another friend, a Breton girl about your age named Sarrah. She and her sister used to visit. I showed them my natural ability to calm animals; they both somehow learned to use magic to do the same. We all had great fun riding bears and tickling wolves. Sarrah died a few years ago." The ranger looked at me with moist eyes and managed a smile. "Her young sister Angel still visits me."

"I'm very sorry Alawen." It was my turn to stare awkwardly at the freshly stoked flames that held no answers. I regretted my question, which now seemed like insensitive prying. My heart ached that I obviously had opened deep wounds. I reached into my pack, searching to brighten the mood. "I know there is plenty of fish, crab and game out here, but I thought you might enjoy some fresh vegetables."

"I am grateful for your thoughtfulness," said Alawen as she rose and placed my potatoes, carrots and onions into the food bag that she lowered from among the overhead branches. After hoisting the bag back up into the tree, she then rejoined me by the fire, and picked up her cup absently. "Buffy, do you think that. . . um, never mind." The ranger's discomfort was punctuated as she rolled her upper lip between her teeth and looked out upon the Niben, which now sparkled brilliantly as it reflected the morning sun.

I was struck by the dichotomy of ranger and child that I saw in Alawen.

Looking around her camp, she had set things up in a manner that reflected her mastery of life outdoors. The wood elf exuded wisdom and confidence in matters of bows, animals and life in the wilds. She was the ranger for a whole county, and probably twice my age. The fact that she had safely traveled here, all the way from Anvil, was testimony to her ability to deal with beasts, bandits and worse.

On the other hand, her manner could quickly melt into the awkwardness of a child, especially regarding matters of civilization. Even her formal manner of speaking reflected her limited dealings with men and mer. Yet, like Superian, I found myself readily liking and accepting her. As she continued to gaze out towards the river, I said, "Alawen, I can see something is troubling you." After a moment I gently added, "I'm a good listener if you want to tell me what it is."

She returned her eyes to mine, still childlike. "Buffy, some people think I am crazy, living in the wilds and talking to mountain lions, wolves and bears. When I go into town for supplies or to report to Countess Millona, humans and even some elves point at me. Sometimes I hear their whispered comments of 'touched' or 'odd'." Alawen frowned, perhaps searching for words. She then exhaled loudly, as if making a decision, and looked anxiously at me. "Would you think me crazy if I told you I saw a ghostly spirit last night? The translucent image of a man staring across the river?"

Her words hit me like me the jolting crackle of a shock spell. How could I have been so stupid as to not warn Alawen about the Forlorn Watchman? Was it not enough to clumsily bring up her dead mother? Now the elf thought that seeing a spirit meant she was crazy. I was the cause for this, and it was my turn now to feel like a child. Ok, ok, Buffy. Think. The last thing on Nirn you want is for her to believe you intentionally didn't tell her. I started to panic as I imagined her thinking that my failure to warn her was an attempt to scare her away from the tournament. Choose your words carefully here, so you don't muck things up even worse.

Deciding the truth was best and simplest, I took a deep breath and let it out. "Alawen, you're not crazy, and your self-doubts over this are my fault."

"Go on," Alawen replied as she cocked her head, looking bewildered.

"I knew about the spirit, or at least the rumor of one. I've hunted this area many times, but never used Bawnwatch for more than a day camp, so I've never seen him." I could feel the warmth rising above the top of my blouse, no doubt reddening my face as I quickly continued, "I- I didn't believe the rumors but, still, I should have thought to warn you. My reckless oversight has caused you unnecessary concern." I paused for a breath and looked hopefully at her. "Can you forgive me?"

"Calm yourself Buffy, no forgiveness is required." The child in Alawen had yielded both face and manner back to the wise ranger. She also appeared relieved, perhaps over my endorsemant of her sanity. "I see a young elf who offered assistance and directions to a stranger yesterday. The same elf who is thoughtful enough today to grace my campfire with her warm company."

"Thank you for not being angry Alawen. I'm still sorry I didn't think to tell you. Some of the townspeople call him the Forlorn Watchman." I smiled. "Now tell me about what happened, and perhaps we can 'unrumor' this spirit."