Description
Before you is a small man. His clothing is hastily assembled, with little, if
any, unifying theme. Regardless, it appears to rest lightly on his thin frame
as if Lelil is accustomed to it. Disheveled brown hair peeks around his
headwear, and a few wisps frame an incongrously clean face sporting clear blu
eyes. Despite his current facial expression and situation, Lelil's eyes remai
steady, aloof, and unaffected.
Role
Nameless Bar(d).
Added Sat May 6 11:35:21 2006 at level 40:
"...And the gnome says to Nepenthe, 'I was hiding in the cabinet...'" Amidst
raucous laughter and cheers, Alanna hops from the stage and heads towards the
other performers waiting their turn. "You're up, Lelil."
Perhaps I should leave.
Lelil nods distractedly, and drinks the final drops of his bitter whiskey. As
he sets the glass on the bar, the melting ice cracks sharply. Lelil flinches
as if the glass had shattered in his hand.
I have nothing to sing.
Lelil walks slowly towards the stage and breathes slowly. Smoke winds its way
from nearby tables to the upper reaches of this tavern's blackened rafters.
As the audience grows aware of him, a few hurried calls for more beer and
wine stand out sharply against the gathering silence. Finally stepping on
stage, Lelil turns with a flourish and bows to the audience, cittern
extended. Working up a false enthusiasm, Lelil addresses the space before
him, "I'm excited to have the chance to sing for you this evening! I hope you
won't mind if I begin with a few of my favorite classics?"
Stupid. I sound like a freak.
The room is still, with only faint sounds of pouring beer and popping corks
to break the silence. Then, softly, "Let my whispers sooth you. Let my
singing dull your strife, let my soft carress bring healing and my kiss..."
As the first strains of the adagio, some of the crowd turns from the stage
and begins to whisper to each other, "This, again? I've heard it a thousand
times." "I didn't come here to listen to recycled lyrics by a talentless
sap." "I want something NEW, to rouse the spirts, not put us all to sleep."
Finally, a dwarf sitting at a front table yells, "Sing th' Warcry of Morton!
Now, THAR's a tune o'adventure an'Heroics that'll get your blood a'pumpin!"
With this last outburst, the audience breaks into conversation, drowning the
subtle melody wafting from the stage.
Not again! No one appreciates the finer songs. Why did I even bother spending
time in Darsylon? I could please this crowd with a dirty rhyme or emotionless
damsel in distress. A damsel loved by all, who yet leads Paladin after
Paladin to his death. Who am I kidding? I'm even terrible at composing my own
music. Why else would I sing the same songs night after night until the
tavern owners kick me out? I hate this! If they want heroics, then I'll show
them deeds to be sung about and my name will be heard here - but in song!
Unnoticed, Lelil places the key to his room on the stage, and slips out into
the night.