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Post by Elladan on Jul 23, 2004 21:50:16 GMT -5
Near the back of this pub sat a travel-worn creature scribbling upon a piece of soiled parchment. He had ordered a bit of rum to keep his senses running, but had sense enough not to be irresponsible with the stuff. So much for that poor guy. He had had a rough past and rumor had morphed his story into distastful rubbish that so oft sparked conversation when he was sighted, as it did with a pair women two tables away from him. The tavern was not crowded, so conversation was easily picked up by any eavesdropper. He now listened to the rather large women dressed in chocolate brown. She spoke to the wife of the bartender, telling her the tale of Fionan, that captain's son. "Oh, yes, that vagabond. Well, the if the Captain had kept his nose out of those ill relations then the ship would not have sunken, now would it have? Aye, and surely that man knew of his father's doings. He should've reported it. "'Tis a shame, really," the lady in chocolate said in a secretive manner, though she knew perfectly well he was in hearing range. What a bunch of rubbish... Fionan thought. "Oh, well... It was his father, but nonetheless..." said the bartender's wife. She cleared her thoat, "well, why is he always writing, anyways?" "Probably plotting out his route, no doubt. Oh, well..." She sipped at her glass of red wine. The man in the cornor simply ran his fingers down the rim of his plumed black hat, tipping it to the ladies and smiling. "Oh, now, come, look away, dear." said the one in brown in a quick manner, turning a slight rosey color. Fionan straightened his hat, took a good sip of his rum, and resumed his writing. He wondered if he really did have a purpose for writing. He supposed not. All he ever wrote was a bunch of poems and a few short stories. Ah, well, perhaps they would be of some use. For now it was just a hobby.
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femalefred
Overly obsessive RPer
Lazy Wretch
Posts: 123
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Post by femalefred on Feb 17, 2005 16:09:21 GMT -5
The door of the tavern opens quietly, and the gentle jingle of mail accompanies the movement of the heavy wooden object. That sound, so often harsh and abrasive to the ear, this time is almost musical, as though someone had somehow brought out a hundred little glockenspiels and a hundred little tunes all at once - discordant, but also somewhat beautiful.
The expected figure here is almost certainly male, and almost certainly a warrior of some sort, but instead, a rather more diminutive figure moves into the crowded inn, ignoring the odd looks and raised eyebrows directed toward her, tugging her cloak more fiercly about her apparently misshapen form and moving to the only spare seat she can see - next to that black hatted man in the corner.
Who he was and what he'd done, she doesn't seem to care, dumping a rough cloth bag on the floor almost next to him and lifting her hood to reveal, oddly, a mane of soft blue hair. Around her face, it hangs down towards her chin, but the longer, thicker strands that would hang just before and behind her ears is pulled back and clipped halfway down her neck by a silver clasp. Her face, too, is blue, though this time a silvery shade of the colour, and it is this face which directs a quick smile in the direction of the stranger, aware of the even odder looks she must be getting now.
Ignoring these, however, she unclasps the brooch holding her cape about her, demonstrating just why it is she seems so oddly shaped - a lyre, an archaic instrument even in these days, hangs on a strap around her torso and rests upon her back. Someone, it seems, has noticed, a large looking man close to the bar, and it appears that he has recognized her.
"I know you! You're the Blue Bard, entcha? Gives us a tune, Bluey!"
Turning a patronizing eye towards him, her green eyes flash with irritation and it seems she is about to say something very, very stupid, and get very, very killed by a lot of rather, rather inebriated fellows. She manages to hold the better of her temprament, for now, however, and simply shakes her head. "Sorry, my voice is tired out, sir. I shall sing you a tune tomorrow."
The bitterness in her voice is almost undisguised, but the man at the bar seems content for now. With this near-altercation dealt with, she turns back to the man with the black-plumed hat with a quick, "sorry to disturb you," and drops to the nearest chair, her mail, once again, letting out a myriad of tiny little tunes.
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Post by Elladan on Feb 17, 2005 17:12:46 GMT -5
"Worry not, M'lady, naught troubles me save the rum-happy betwix the two cities. Or, such is what the elves of Avalbane oft say." He looked up from underneath the shadow of the rim to catch a glimps of the new aquaintence, expecting an elf or Anorian, but instead found a creature of the most peculiar azure. To his knowledge, which was uncommonly vast, he knew no race. "But, pray, have you any other title than what that fellow shouted but a minute ago?" he asked politely, eyes resting upon the man of whom he spoke. ____
"Oh, my, who doth twinkle in such a manner at the door? An elf-knight? For such metal is not that of any human settlement I know of," mentioned the bartender's wife, who had never heard such a noise some through their doors. "My, but if you turned 'round you would find the strangest of creaturea!" said the chocolate woman in fright. Such aquiantences were rare in the small tavern. They saw to the business of the anors and elves, and maybe an occasional human, but nothing much more, "and look, a friend of that fellow! What strange business!" she continued in a whisper, trying to hush her harsh articulations by fumbling with her glass.
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femalefred
Overly obsessive RPer
Lazy Wretch
Posts: 123
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Post by femalefred on Feb 17, 2005 17:24:01 GMT -5
"Ah yes, that name.." an expression of displeasure brushes across her face for a moment, swinging her lyre over her shoulder so that her slouching back does not damage it as she continues. "Kerituin is my true name, though almost nobody knows it. I prefer it immensely to Bluey, but you can call me that if you prefer it to Keri, seeing as you actually asked."
The commotion caused by the chocolate woman does not go unmissed by the bard, her head tilting slightly to the side in curiosity. "Why is that woman getting herself into such a fluster about my talking to you, sir?"
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Post by Elladan on Feb 18, 2005 20:03:05 GMT -5
"Tis the gossip of fine ladies in small towns with husbands who are oft gone from them. I suppose, since their love's are parted from them and they must wait, they grow bored. The story is obvious by her blushing when I nodded to her earlier." "As for her interest in me, twas the misfortune of my family. They think ill of me because of it. They think I knew about it prior to the accident, that I could have stopped it, but I had no such luck. Rumor grows that my father, a capitan, had relations with smugglers, but such is false. he was a good man and they've no right to defile our name at the hand of gossip..." he paused for a while, eyes venturing off into nothing, and took a long sip of rum to ease his growing tension. A hidden malice lay veiled behind his wild sea-green eyes.
" I suppose my occupation doesn't help..." he went on, now trailing into general conversation.
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femalefred
Overly obsessive RPer
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Posts: 123
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Post by femalefred on Feb 19, 2005 18:33:32 GMT -5
His short speech is accompanied by thoughtful nods from the bard, her right hand resting lightly on the strings of her lyre and the left over the hole in the soundbox, preventing any large noise escaping as she idly picks at the strings. As the other talks, she hears another shocked sounding "whisper" from the lady in brown and the barman's wife, and her gaze shoots over towards them, eyes rolling and head shaking with an air of disapproval, almost disappointment that they have nothing better to do with their time than to gossip and wonder about the states of strangers.
The final sentence uttered by this apparent fellow of the sea snatches her attention back all of a sudden, her ears almost physically pricking. Curiosity is one of her more overriding traits, other than her quick temper, and her fingers stop idly picking out nonsense tunes on the lyre.
"What occupation would that be, that causes such rumors? You seem a fair enough gentleman to me," she adds, a quick smile flashing across her features to inject some truth into that sentence.
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Post by Elladan on Feb 19, 2005 20:43:19 GMT -5
" I've many, none of which are reputable. I'm a vagabond, working as a scribe when the need arises. I'm also a messenger at times, bartender, soldier, musician, connoisseur, ranger, healer, interpreter, herbist, sailor, librarian, even jester, and, according to Avalbane, a fine dancer." He gave a slight smile at the end of his rambling, memory flashing to the magnificent dancing hall of Avalbane. The smile, though handsome on such a dark, wild face, was silly, crossing only one side of his face where a dimple indented itself upon his cheek. The smile had obviously not been there in a while, for it crossed weary marks of sorrow that ever blemished any content he came across.
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femalefred
Overly obsessive RPer
Lazy Wretch
Posts: 123
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Post by femalefred on Feb 20, 2005 6:52:50 GMT -5
At the mention of the profession jester, a rather silly grin spreads across the face of the bard, and she begins picking out a cheerful little circus tune on her lyre, almost out of habit it seems.
"Ah, jestering. I did that once. I was terrible at it. Mainly because I can't do acrobatics in the least, especially acrobatic dances that they seem to favour in the houses of human lords. Is dancing an important skill in Avalbane?" she adds quickly, preparing herself to update her travelling plans. "I was hoping to find work there, but if they want me to dance, I'm not sure I'll be able to hold a position for very long."
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Post by Elladan on Feb 20, 2005 12:54:28 GMT -5
He shifted a little at her grin. He had taken the job once to pay of debt to some clever meddlesome fellows who threatend him for information on a certain friend. He offered to pay if they would forget him and, being corrupt, they agreed. "Oh, no. You won't find many occupations dealing with entertainment in a Avalbane. He has musicians to play tunes fit for their dance after evening meals, but nothing for personal entertainment. He considers it foolish and a waste of time. You could take up a position as a servant, or perhaps a gardener. You might even try the musical ensemble. I see you have some talent with that lyre." he smiled, gesturing towards the instrument.
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femalefred
Overly obsessive RPer
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Posts: 123
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Post by femalefred on Feb 20, 2005 15:57:34 GMT -5
"Ah yes, my little pet precious." At the very mention of the instrument, she smiles and halts in the plucking of the strings, gazing down on it almost as a mother might look down upon its child.
"In that case, I'm not sure I or my lyre will be particularly welcome. I had heard some rumour, I'm not sure where from, that the elves there are more accepting of half-bloods if they are able to entertain.. probably just some humans getting a little fanciful on me," she adds, an irritated sigh escaping her mouth, brows creasing. "My pet here is half-blood too, in a way," she starts again, by way of distracting her from her annoyances. "It was an ancient elven instrument I was given, but some cretin had decided, before I obtained it, to smash the tuning board. He's half human now, I couldn't find an elven artisan to fix it."
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Post by Elladan on Feb 21, 2005 10:34:35 GMT -5
"Perhaps some elves, but certainly not Avalbane and definately not the Lord of Avalbane. I'm sure you and your lyre would be more than welcome there. Aricin..." He parted his lips once more as if to continue, then hesitated, closing them grimly. It was no business of his to tell Aricin's tale. "It so happens that you are on the same road as I. I have business there that I've postponed for too long, and I'm certain I won't bring smiles, but it is high time I visited the city... again," he sighed with the slightest hit of agony. He dreaded that city with a passion, yet loved it all the same.
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femalefred
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Posts: 123
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Post by femalefred on Feb 21, 2005 13:09:17 GMT -5
This slight pause in his syntax arouses, once more, the bard's curiousity. Her hands lie flat against the horns of the lyre for now as she watches his face and that odd look of grim resignation that he must return to this place that it seems, he has no desire to go back to.
"We may as well travel together then, though I'd prefer to rest a night here, at least," she states, fairly plainly, glancing up to the bar and pondering her next move for a moment. Suddenly standing, she lifts the strap of her instrument over her head and places it on the seat with a little loving smile before she speaks to the elf again.
"I'm going to get myself a drink and a room. Look after my pet precious while I'm gone, would you? And when I get back, I'd quite like to know your name."
With this, she walks up to the bar, leaning forward on the heavy oaken object and speaking with a clear, firm voice, ignoring quite blatantly the man who'd earlier asked for her to give them a tune, despite the fact he was sitting directly next to her and had nodding a greeting at least twice.
"Could I have a shot of your best whisky, with a little water, and a room, please, sir."
The barman turns, thick eyebrows lifting slightly in surprise at her directness, and also her use of the word "sir" in his general direction, though he nods, apparently to both requests. A man of few words, it seems, though a nod is given to the stairs behind the bar and he grumbles - though not unkindly - "Y'can take yer luggage up there. Keep yer lyre down here though, we might be wanting a tune or two later, even if ye don't sing."
Nodding in response, she reaches down to a pouch hanging at her waist on the gently jingling mail and withraws five copper coins, dropping them carefully onto the bar, watching quietly whilst the barman fixes her drink.
"That should be enough, and if it's not, I'll sing later," she states calmly, taking the surprisingly clean looking tin cup in which her whisky's been poured and walking back to the table at which her new acquaintance is still sitting.
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Post by Elladan on Feb 28, 2005 17:46:57 GMT -5
"My name," he announced as she retuned, " is Fionan, son of Idrais." He fiddled with the plume of his hat, watching the tribal dance of the flames in the hearth, the calmly continued cordially. "Tell me, if I caught it right, does that bard wish a tune of you? Perhaps I could assist you if your voice fails, for I am also a vocalist, and perhaps have a bit of talent with the pan pipes," his wild eyes eluminated with the offer, hands silently groping for his pipe that lay hidden somewhere beneath the layers he wore.
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femalefred
Overly obsessive RPer
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Posts: 123
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Post by femalefred on Mar 1, 2005 10:46:46 GMT -5
"Really?" she asks, her voice gently surprised and her eyes brightening vividly at this mention of aid. What she said earlier is, for once, genuinely true - her voice is tired, even it is through fault of her own due to singing on her travels rather than walking silently. "In that case, Fionan of Idrais, I would say you are a much more honorable man than those gossiping ladies are determining."
Lifting her lyre again, she gently strokes the tuning board, plucking the strings in turn as she does, her head cocked to one side as she considers both whether her lyre's maintained its tune since the sudden rise in temperature from outside to in here, and which songs they might perform together.
"Which songs would you know? On panpipes and vocally. I usually sing my own music, but I'm not adverse to playing a few of the old favourites," she states with a grin, the lessons she recieved from her father in playing the old ballads and folk songs flashing in her mind all over again.
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Post by Elladan on Mar 11, 2005 13:04:37 GMT -5
"My, what a question. I can't count. A traveler on forgein paths picks up many tunes, some of which he knows not the title, or has forgotten. Such is my case, m'lady. Go ahead and pick your heart's desire, and if I know nothing of it, teach me." he smiled broadly, hands finally slipping out of his attire to reveal an old wooden panpipe that, despite its years, had managed to keep a charming sheen. His family had taken good care of it.
He took a few moments to blow into it, softly warming up, enchanting notes resounding from it's pipes. He ran through the notes, playing a few short tunes before retiring to hear a reply.
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femalefred
Overly obsessive RPer
Lazy Wretch
Posts: 123
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Post by femalefred on Mar 11, 2005 13:32:55 GMT -5
She smiles, nodding with slight admiration at the production of the panpipes - clearly well maintained, even though they might be old and well use, and clearly an instrument of great quality.
"Well, do you know the hummingbird's song?" she asks, lifting her lyre and beginning to pick out the languid yet somehow light tune, playing properly for the first time this evening. "It's a popular one, usually, though I tend to play it in the wrong key," a slight grin accompanying this addition.
At the sounds of a familiar tune, it seems at least the man at the bar who'd first recognized the blue woman when she entered the tavern has his interest drawn away from conversation with his fellows and the bartender, eyes settling on the lyre itself.
"Playing yet?"
With a more relaxed attitude to the man than beforehand - perhaps the whisky's aided a little, eh? - Keri shakes her head and calls back, "In a minute, sir. We first must decide what we are to play."
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Post by Elladan on Mar 19, 2005 19:31:31 GMT -5
"If I have, I've forgotten it..." he replied, face comically submissive, " Either way the title fits. Here, you start it out again and I'll join it once I get the general flow..."
He lifted the pan pipes once more to his lips, moistening them for a sharp second to ready himself for a smooth leap into the tune. His eyes turned to rest upon the man at the bar, then flashed back to Bluey, eager for music.
~*~*~
The woman in chocolate turned to fix a critical eye towards Fionan, beckoned by the soft tune of the pipes. The bartenders glare softened, impressed by his talent, but turned to find the harsh oculars of her friend burning. "Darest that man defile our pleasent conversation with his idle fiddling?"
The bartender's wife simply stared at the ground. "Honestly, Isabel, just ignore it... My husband called for it, I believe."
"Of that man?" she exclaimed, but her interest in the topic quickly faded as the door to the tavern swung open to reveal a better subject. Another mysterious fellow entered, cloaked in the scarlet secrecy of a fine red cloak. His gloved hands held a letter gilded with royal designs and sealed with a lavish stamp of wax. When Fionan glanced up to mark the newcomer he froze, eyes slowly droping to the fine letter the other held neatly in his palm. Searching, his glance found the elegant seal, and his disgrunted countenance comfirmed speculation. The seal was embellished with the mark of Avalbane, and to heighten matters, with the letter came the Heir. That is to say, the Heir of Avalbane was delivering the message, or so it appeared.
This, however, wouldn't hinder his music.
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femalefred
Overly obsessive RPer
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Posts: 123
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Post by femalefred on Mar 20, 2005 7:10:35 GMT -5
Nodding, she continued to play, finishing the first half of the tune - the second half of which was a mirror of it. As she came to a stop, she looked up at the elf, smiling lightly, ignoring the entrance of this richly garbed newcomer - people come and go during her performances all the time, and, unless he was of some great importance and was going to talk to her, she was going to continue ignoring him. He can listen, and then he can speak.
"I shall sing," she announced, gaze shifting to the barman and the others occupying the tavern, waiting for the usual momentary hubbub to quiet before she began, hissing quietly to Fionan, "Just join in when you think you've got the chord sequence covered, the tune's a fairly simple one so you needn't follow it."
With that, she began to play, finally allowing her lyre to sing out fully, it's surprisingly rich tone (for a plucked instrument, that is) moving stridently over the general conversations and noises of a tavern, a slightly roughened, but none-the-less sweet voice accompanying it.
"The hummingbird, he liked to fly from flow’r to flow’r to flow’r, He liked to fly between the blooms that grew up a maiden’s tower. She put out lilies, lilacs sweet and other fragrant blooms To draw the bird from down below and right up to her room."
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Post by Elladan on Mar 20, 2005 8:17:12 GMT -5
In a silent moment of recognition his brows rose and the tune sprung from the small pipes like water from a fountain, harmoniously blending with the rich sound of lyre and voice to produce a clear resonation throughout the tavern.
His gaze, however, was never lifted from the man who had entered previously. He continued to analyze him, and found that he, in turn, was being examined by the grey eyes sparkling beneath the crimson drapery. Fionan noted his particular choice of ale and his funny relaxed position in the chair he sat, of course not far from a corner, and not too far away from a light source. He marked a tress or so when it glided from beneath the red, light in color, much to the likings of his ( the man's) father and mother. Why would Aricin have sent him, anyway?
He stopped his fiddling for an erupt moment to call the man forth,
"Come, boy," he shouted with familiarity, recieving a glance of disaproval from the woman in brown. The man in crimson started for a second, startled by the title, but obeyed, nevertheless. Many cocked a suspicious brow to the unlikely sight. Was this a lord following the orders of a vagabond? It appeared so. What was even more astounding was Fionan's simple act of shoving the pan pipes into the hands of the other. A gift?
"Play for us!" he suggested imperatively, smiling with a glint in his eyes. To the Chocolate's astonishment, the lavish man let down his hood and took the instrument to his lips, not before giving Fionan a hesitant glare.
The scene took place swiftly, and before the crowd knew the music was flowing as it was before the pipes dropped out, which wasn't a significant loss, for the sound of the lyre was enchanting enough.
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femalefred
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Posts: 123
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Post by femalefred on Mar 20, 2005 16:17:39 GMT -5
As Fionan had stopped playing and shouted, Kerituin's voice had quieted, simply picking out an intricate version of tune on the strings of her beloved lyre, watching with raised eyebrows as this lord emissary of Avalbane obeys the request of her new companion. Her voice-less melody continued as the apparently younger elf - she'd always had some trouble in discerning the age of those rare and magical creatures, despite the fact her mother had been - took up the pipes, waiting for him to take on the chord sequence before she continued.
The tune always took on a new context - or at least when Keri played it - when she started a new verse, and she ran togethe the two central verses of the song for now, wondering, idly, as she often did when playing well known pieces, whether the rooms here were open or separated, and whether they'd be able to provide her with a bath tub.
"“Oh hummingbird, my mother says this month I must be wed, But I have no suitor I would choose to take unto my bed.” The hummingbird looked as though he were about to speak, But instead he turned and looked, pointing southward with his beak.
There sat an Elven Prince down south, he sat on an Elven Throne, And he loved the maiden and she loved him, though neither one had known. The hummingbird lead her down south, and he up to the north The road was long and steep and old, but they met upon the fourth."
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