| Game Master Join Date: Mar 2006 Location: Vancouver, BC
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|  A young, pretty elf walks into the Surge...
*A pretty elven woman walks into the Wild Surge Inn, chooses a seat by the fire, and brushes the snow off the cover of a harp, which she proceeds to tune - by the time she's done, she's drawn the attention of many of the regulars - which, of course, was her goal. She strums an experimental chord or two, then starts into a proper accompaniment, and her lilting voice quickly joins it...*
//The song is available in midi form as an attachment to this post.
Friends, fellows and strangers, I'll sing you a song,
A story; its object a young elven maid.
A maiden accursèd, though she did no wrong,
The curse a default she should never have paid.
The elf who I sing of - Therise Silverstar,
The child of a house bound for power and fame,
Ensconced 'mongst the treetops of Voltrex afar,
The best of orators all held the proud name.
Great speakers they were and they held such high hopes for the beautiful young elven lass,
Her parents, they dreamt that some day young Therise would ascend to the elf noble class.
Therise was exceptional - straight from her birth,
She was gifted with beauty, grace, cunning and charm -
The pride of her fam'ly, her village and clan,
All endeavoured to see that she came to no harm.
Her hair was a waterfall, chocolate and gold,
Her eyes were hypnotic, her skin alabaster.
Her figure was lithe, but enough (truth be told)
That at even that age, males' hearts would beat faster.
At this point in my tale, most list'ners assume
That Therise had a future of power and grace
Unrolling before her, but do not presume:
The curse that befell her has yet to take place.
She was trained as a speaker, with smoothness of tongue, expected in one who would rule
The Silverstar family the crown of the elves, with Therise to be set as its jewel.
Alas for her family, and for the elf
Her form and her voice were beheld by a mage;
His lust for her made him demand for himself
Her hand in a Bonding, e'en at this young age.
This impudent mage was not homely; indeed,
The man was a gold elf, face noble and proud.
But within him his heart was contorted with greed,
More akin to a Drow, if such things were allowed.
The girl's mother and father were nobody's fools - despite the elf's fair shape and face,
They recognized evil, protected their child, and told the mage "No" in her place.
The mage, now embittered, swore vengeance that day,
'Gainst Therise (whom he blamed) and the Silverstars all,
And, with a last comment, he hastened away,
"Oration's your strength - it shall be her downfall!"
The family was wary; they cast magic wards
'Bout Therise's bedroom, to keep away spells
And magical creatures - they posted a guard;
After all, normal creatures can kill just as well.
But despite all this planning, the curse made it through, for the mage wove his spells with finesse;
Death wasn't the object - for all of his ire, 'twas their pride that he wished to address.
When Therise awakened - when she tried to speak,
The force of the curse was seen only too well;
Therise fell, contorted, pain-stricken and weak,
If she spoke in other than base doggerel.
A subtle curse, surely, but strong nonetheless;
No Silverstar mage had the power to cure -
Young Therise of her curse - they had to confess
That she'd have a lifetime of rhyme to endure.
But one mage offered hope - the best of the lot
He suggested the curse could be weakened instead
After long days of research, he gave it a shot
Knowing full well a failure would fall on his head.
He succeded in part - while the curse stayed in force, any rhyme would placate its compulsion
But her natural language was still beyond reach - she'd be met in debate with revulsion.
Resigned to her status, her parents then sought
To enroll their young daughter in school as a Bard -
The Bardic Academy: there she'd be taught
To placate her curse, though the lessons'd be hard
Now armed with pentameter, rhythm and verse,
Her voice trained to match her appearance so fair,
Rhyming her lyrics to assuage her curse,
And now armed with magic; let mages beware!
She set out in the world, promoting her name,
And seeking adventure - employment as well,
All her work meant to further build Silverstar fame
'Til such time as she'd magic to vanquish her spell.
Now as you've all guessed, I'm the elf from my song - my name is Therise and my geas remains,
But by all the heavens, that fillaanilmew
*she pauses in disgust, then a brief spasm of pain crosses her face and she hurries on*
will pay for his crimes *she grins* amid pithy refrains!
So gather 'round tavernfolk, strangers and friends,
And lend me your hands as you leant me your ears,
Your applause is most welcome (and coins serve my ends!) *with a wink*
I'll be back again often for at least several years!
*With a final, triumphant chord, Therise lets the last note die in the air, before grinning broadly and bowing*
// This was Therise's character submission, so I thought I'd post it here.
// For all those interested, the midi was made using Noteworthy Composer (so if anyone wants score form, that's available too.) |
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