Description
Dressed in extravagant clothing you see a tall and lanky wood-elf in his
prime. His long dark brown hair is tastefully ungroomed and it falls loosely
over his shoulders as it frames his face. Underneath the classically elegant
elven eyebrows, two deep blue sapphires of eyes regard the world around him
with a mischievous glint, while underneath the slender and narrow nose, one
corner of his mouth is twisted to form a slightly smug grin. On the left
side of his neck, sitting at an odd angle, you see the top of a beautifully
ornate neck tattoo of the number thirteen that disappears underneath the
lapel of his maroon shirt that remains unbuttoned to his chest. The black
regular fit pants are perfectly clean and unadorned, while his black
overcoat is richly embroidered with intricate sylvan motifs and the number
thirteen in silver thread. As he moves you smell very distinctive woody
blend of spiced sandalwood, peach and cinnamon.
Role
EYES OF PURPLE (1/4)
Added Fri May 7 15:07:09 2021 at level 45:
There is a river close to Ar'atouldain. A river and a cat. The stories say
that the river and its pool are connected to both memory and time. I have
submerged myself countless times in both. I knew it was a fool's hope that
they would either reverse time, or wash away unwanted memories. Our mistakes,
crimes and sins are indelible. Just like our triumph. It is almost unbearable.
Where do I even start this story? Do I tell it like it was? Or do I embellish
tastefully in order to please the audience? Why should the truth be held in
such a special regard and remain unembellished? Even the perfect beauty of a
naked goddess can be enhanced by the inspired passion and unattainable
promise. Imagine the stories, how unbearable they would be, if they didn't
speak only of love absolute, but described the petty daily arguments those
lovers used to have. Imagine the lackluster tragedy being rendered trivial
when the hero recovers from it and finds happiness. A real artist nurtures his
pains. They are his arrows that he lobs back at the cruelty of the world that
he lives in, they are the tools through which he could keep the painful world
whole. Because even in the depths of despair, life is still worth living, for
that fleeting moment of seeing one more perfectly crimson sunset, or another
set of deep maroon eyes glistening as you sing about those same eyes that came
before them. And that is the burden all bards worthy of legend have to bear.
They have to nurture in themselves their own pain as well as the pain of
others, so that their art can heal the souls of the others so afflicted.
I came to know consciousness about my existence as a young child in Modan. At
the time I didn't yet know that it was odd to have an old spinster for a
caretaker. The talk about the birds and the bees was still not had, and there
was no pressing drive to understand the moans and shouts coming from the
brothels and back allies, there were still boyish games to be played. When I
first asked my human caretaker how I came to be, she didn't want to talk about
it. I had been born else where, to some wood-elf couple, she wouldn't say
their names, she wouldn't say why they were not here, or if they were even
alive. Why she hated me so, I will never know. She made sure I remained alive,
but didn't involve herself with me otherwise. That leathery face of hers,
always bore a disatisfied frown. When she looked at me, love and hate warred
on her visage, and cowardace always won in the end.
EYES OF PURPLE (2/4)
Added Fri May 7 15:07:55 2021 at level 45:
The streets of Modan were the only place that would embrace me. Thuggish and
cruel, it thought it's life lessons no matter if you were prepared for them
or not. I don't know if it is the strongest, or the bravest, or the most
cunning that survive them. Maybe it is just the unlucky ones. It is cliche to
talk about how bitter sweet the memories of early youth are, but it is true
none the less. There was a thrill to everything. The first time passion is
experienced, oh what a glory that is. The true rogue settles in his ways early
in life I think, and such was the case with me as well. I would find a girl
and we would promise each other eternities and then move on from one another
by the end of the week. I would panhandle, swindle, hustle, sing or con my way
through life and I would truly live in those times when the roll of the dice
would fall to my favor. I fought dirty and I would do almost anything for
enough money to sneak into a tavern, get a drink and listen to the music. It
was a life, the only one that Modan showed as possible to me, and I lived it
to its fullest. But luck has two faces. One that is warm and sustains you and
another that leaves you cold and alone. I would still be in Modan doing those
same things while the coin was spinning in the air. As can be expected, one
day it fell the wrong side up.
EYES OF PURPLE (3/4)
Added Fri May 7 15:10:59 2021 at level 45:
The day had almost died out and the sun was painting its farewell on the
horizon in a deep maroon. I was grinning a fool's grin and she was giggling as
we entered the Two Snakes. We had been with each other and apart often the
past year. At that point it was the longest lasting relation I had ever had,
it was serious I thought. We caroused late into the night when a frail man
walked into the common room. He almost had to walk with a limp from the weight
of his coin pouch. A foreigner, with a heavy Arkham accent, here on business
and looking to blow off some steam. Does the rogue ever truly have a choice? I
slipped toward the thieves that were known to me and they embraced me with
their vulpine grins. Five minutes later I had a King's ransom of 10 gold
pieces in my purse and I was plying the foreigner with stories, drinks and
song as we started gambling. I could still hear the echo of the rattling dice
in my head even after they would settle. It is the drinking on an empty
stomach I told myself, as I kept my eyes fixed on the prize. Do you know what
happened next? Can you not already see his gaunt sickly face twist into a
sneer as he noticed me swapping the dice? Can you not imagine the squeal of
absolute surprise and rage he let pierce the night when my fist cracked his
jaw? Do you not see me running for the door, a fat gold purse in one hand and
a blushing comely girl with purple eyes in the other? Do you see the two
minotaur mountains at the entrance, one grabbing me by the throat and the
other grabbing her by the waist? Do you know how minotaur are made? I didn't.
They showed me. They made sure I kept my eyes open during all of it. And I saw
it, the hope retreating in front of the pain that was nestling deep. I saw in
those eyes of purple the breaking of her soul. And throughout the all of it,
those damned dice kept rolling in my head like thunderclouds over a dark blue
sea. They wouldn't stop until I got ship bound toward Mutazz, running from a
debt I could never repay and from those eyes, those silent searching eyes.
EYES OF PURPLE (4/4)
Added Fri May 7 15:13:18 2021 at level 45:
I spent the next years hiding. Always running from the debtor that never came.
I slept where sleep found me, in gutters, ditches and the occasional barn. I
panhandled, begged, stole for my dinner and as I moved from place to place I
started singing again, listening to people's stories, sometimes retelling them
or telling one of my own. I never thought of performing, of music as a
profession, it was just a part of my life, and slowly, painstakingly I honed
my craft. I started with barn dances and tiny village taverns, then moved up
to small towns and on to the cities. At the end I found myself at the Mushroom
Tree Tavern in Evermoon when I was asked to perform for the first time at a
court. I have seen all manner of people and I have witnessed them struggle
with their every day mundane tragedies as well as with those that are life
changing or life ending. No matter from which background they come, no matter
the poor decision their tragedy compels them to take, it is that breaking
point that makes the hero or the coward.
Having been in exile most of my life I know that loneliness doesn't bring the
artistic expression to sharpen, but it puts the mind and soul into a stupor
which blinds the eyes to the world. It is only the bard that should hide his
feelings, and it is only the bard that should express his own in the guise of
someone else's. Because if there is any beauty and worth to the art that our
own pain swans it must be a universal one, one that would reach others in the
pits of despair and show them the shining full moon overhead.
Over time I became comfortable wearing many masks. People avoid the acerbic
poet, they sit on the far side of the room from the depressed bard, they are
quick to share their pain with an understanding barkeep and they are willing
to follow on any quest a bard brazen enough to voice their claim to legend.
And all of it, ALL of THIS, because how could I quietly disappear in the
shadows and allow this world to crumble under its own pain? How could I betray
those eyes of purple that could never get enough of this world no matter how
ugly it turned out to be? How could I say that I want to close my own eyes
forever, when hers, even after her soul was gone, kept darting around, looking
for something that she knew must be there.. looking, for some redeeming grace.
A LEGENDARY BARD
Added Mon Aug 16 17:34:07 2021 at level 51:
So many people laugh along with the Legend when it tells the story. Very few
of them comprehend, if any. To wear the mask is to become the mask, while
always knowing that YOU can never truly be the mask. If this is not clear to
you, or if it sounds like an absurd contradiction to you, you will never wear
the mask properly.
There is a conflict, an inner pain that come out of nowhere, that I presume
every legendary bard knows. The ego revolts and demands that it be recognized
for itself. It demands that it lay authority and claim over the deeds
undertaken by the bard, even though done underneath the legendary guise. It is
a simple moral vanity, one that eventually comes and never leaves. But the
Legend is more than such considerations. The Legend is what people need, not
what the bard wants. When what people need does not exist, the legendary bard
is the one that invents it. The facade will never fall, it is the ages old
crust that becomes a natural part of every jester, layered to the point it
becomes indistinguishable from the original face.
I have lived this life for centuries now. I have been the dauntless hero for
those that need hope, the irreconcilable rascal for those that need whimsy,
the heartbreaker for those that need to realize that their potential does not
lie in the definition given onto them by a lover. I have been the spy, the
diplomat, the children's storyteller, the mystical benefactor, the enemy, the
friend, the lover. None of my roles have been a constant one. I come in the
night like an unexpected hurricane and leave come next morning. Shelter are
upended and mysteries are uncovered in my wake. I am the legendary bard, my
only devotion is Luck, my only moral is to leave the world a better place than
I found it, and my only goal is to find the world's redeeming grace. These are
my passions. These, fuel my art.
I dare you, each and every one of you, to do the thing you think you couldn't
or shouldn't. With my brazen actions I challenge you to see the things that
are not there but could be. I demand that you imagine and fantasize, to think
the unthinkable, embrace the impossible. Dream! I command that you dream and
live a life according to that. I will make you love or hate, but always feel
and burn with the intensity of life and emotion, and live a complete life full
of ugliness, tragedy, happiness and beauty. To my domain are all that are
living, only the undead are truly lost.
If there is an action to be taken, I will call you to it. And I will also be
the shadow that follows in the night, never truly seen and never truly known,
but ever present. I will be a keeper and a guide to you and to your story.
Like a legendary bard ought to be.
And all of this, ALL OF IT, is a homage to a set of purple eyes that, as the
soul was leaving the body, searched my own and the Theran sky for something
that did not exist.
PK Wins
Oct 11, 2021|Lv 51|The Jade Mountains|Mwauka vs 2: [51] Calithildir (0%), [51] Mojabosombo (100%, divine power)