Andrew's Songbook

[RollinsCat]

For Keppli and the other halflings I enjoy the company of so very much.  Translation pending.

Evil at each twist and turn
Foes to take what we have earned
And so for battle I march stern...
Because I fight for pie!

I fight for pie!
I fight for pie!
I fight for pie, because there is no better ally

You might think it flighty
You might think it trite
But for most things stressful in this world
A pie can make it right –

I fight for pie!
I fight for pie!
I fight for pie and yes I know the reason why!

Hostility is off the chart
Civility seems a dying art
But a slice with tea sets us apart!
That’s why I fight for pie!

Brutes, bandits and hordes we’ll beat
We’ll secure our homes for safe retreat
A comfy place for us to eat
Another slice of pie!

I fight for pie!

*a letter taped to this page*

Andrew Reid
Twin Dragons Inn
137 Leringard
Leringard
Kingdom of Trelania
Mistone

**You hear a few screams in the corridor and some cups and such breaking as they fall on the floor. Opening the door to see what's going on, a particularly large wolf stands (about eight feet long), its amber eyes glowing, and a scroll between its teeth. It drops it at your feet with a bark then scampers off as a maid comes back weilding a frying pan*

Heh, nice to hear from you Andy, I thought your song was pretty catchy. Knowing me and my kin we wouldn't take this seiously at all, in fact we'd probably laugh heartily then buy you an ale! But instead I've got to translating your song, I hope you're happy with a new song addition to your collection... Here goes...


Ifuc ed iesn dzumd ert dohr
Wyim dy degi zned zi nefi iehrit
Ert my wyh peddci U lehsn mdihr...
Piseomi U wuknd wyh bui!

U wuknd wyh bui!
U wuknd wyh bui!
U wuknd wyh bui, piseomi dnihi um ry piddih ecca

Ayo luknd dnurg ud wcuknda
Ayo luknd dnurg ud dhudi
Pod wyh lymd dnurkm mdhimmwoc ur dnum zyhct
E bui ser legi ud huknd –

U wuknd wyh bui!
U wuknd wyh bui!
U wuknd wyh bui ert aim U gryz dni hiemyr zna!

Nymducuda um yww dni snehd
Sufucuda miilm e taurk ehd
Pod e mcusi zudn die midm om ebehd!
Dned’m zna U wuknd wyh bui!

Phodim, pertudm ert nyhtim zi’cc pied
Zi’cc misohi yoh nylim wyh mewi hidhied
E sylwa bcesi wyh om dy ied
Erydnih mcusi yw bui!

U wuknd wyh bui!

[RollinsCat]

*taped inside*

Andrew,

It needs to be said, that Rael grows his food underground. The light source he uses is magical and he has special grains. This magical light source requires something to keep glowing. It is people. It sucks the life force out of people in order to generate light.

How do I know this you may ask? Well sadly I helped him get the seeds. It was during the great darkness when the sun did not shine. A call went out for some help delivery some items. A bunch of us adventurers came to that call.

To make a long story short we got the seeds from some where in Alindor. Where they had the magical light source being used. The thing is their light source did not require people to keep going.

Anyway we ended up getting the seeds to Dregar and into the hands of a gnome. The Gnome then told us that Rael was sending criminals to be used to keep the light sources going.

We all know how easy it is to be labeled a criminal by Rael. This is one of the hardest things for me to admit to. That I helped Rael.

Now that help has made him one of the most powerful people in the world. He was able to keep everyone feed during the darkness including his armies.

The reason I want this known now,iIs because Port Hempstead is now taking food from Rael. Food made from the lives of innocent people. They need to know they are being cannibals when the eat that food.

Buddy




Must write song.  Songs.  Ugh - Muse!  That is really sick...

[RollinsCat]

Time to tour.

Sober five months.

Bad judgment from a bottle and I’m alone again
Laughter raining from the stars above
The world don’t have enough regret to heal the trust that I upset
Sorry can’t build a road back to the house of love

We all know what sorry’s worth
We all know what it can’t do
We all know it’s never enough
But it’s all we ever have for you

A lesson learned about who owns me wasn’t worth the losing
But I’ll keep the queen of hearts in my hand
Put the queen of cups back on the shelf and maybe I’ll forgive myself
Or at least get my head clear to understand

We all know what sorry’s worth
We all know what it can’t do
We all know it’s never enough
But it’s all we ever have for you

Pages inked of things we wished we had and hadn’t done
Art shaped from the clay of morning after
Courage from a glassy kiss becomes all the moments that exist
With no thought to any more hereafters

I know what sorry’s really worth
I know what it won’t do
I know that it is not enough
But it’s all I have for you

[RollinsCat]

Dwarven Army Song - take one.  Thanks to several well-sloshed mates around Corsain.


Drink drink drink drink

Drank drank drank drank

Drunk drunk drunk drunk....

I was drunk last night
I was drunk the night before,
And I'm gonna get drunk tonight
Like I never been drunk before

For when I'm drunk
I'm as happy as can be
For I am a member
Of the Dwarven Army

And the Dwarven Army
Is the best family
The best of family
That ever you did see

With the highland dwarves
And the lowland dwarves
And the underground dwarves
And some other  dwarves!

Sing Glorious!
Victorious!
One keg of beer for the all of us!
Sing glory be that there are no more of us
For one of us can drink it all alone!

Pass the beer, pass the beer, to the rear of the line!

[RollinsCat]

What is the price of light
What can society bear
Where is the line drawn
In civilized sand...

What if I told you
The food that you’re eating now
Came from the light
Of a condemned dying man?

What if I told you
The new Lord of Weyland’s lands
Uses Prantz criminals
To light his Deep lands?

Would you be horrified?
Would you turn face aside?
Would you find joy in the ironic twist?

What about the disappeared
Voices that we’ll never hear
Silent bloody echoes from those who resist?

Evil wears benevolence
A glittering disguise
His mask cloaks the violence
The desperate moments of defense
Souls of people iron tense
With unspoken goodbyes

The Law cannot protect you there
They may judge you good and fair
But in the end its Rael’s lair
And his whim is what’s right

What is the price of light
Life used to power it
What is the price of light
Heartbeat and breath transmit
What is the price of light
Ignorance a permit
To harvest a life...

[RollinsCat]

Not a great day.  Laid in bed with Randy Stuffigans and Belle.  Alex still not talking to me.


Writing for my coin and goods and feeling like a w hore
And now I wonder what this is all for
Sure my clothes now look quite nice but who cares what they see
Nothing left for the soul and body lying on the floor

What do I do to get back to the peace I knew
Before caring and loving gave me pause
Is it wrong when a man sells his soul
Even if he believes the cause

I miss the conversation, her temper and her touch
Every minute I sit and write for pay
Another might soon take her place but it will never be her face
Just someone to get me through the day

I wish that I could become my Song to ride the world winds
I wish I could become my melodies
I want to feel my bones vibrate, want to dissolve into my fate
I want to be a Song upon the breeze

[RollinsCat]

For Elly.

Should I, or shouldn't I?

Will she forgive me?  Elves take too  long to decide things.  I don't have a hundred years, by the Muse.


We are the Al’Noth outlaws
Monsters with so many different flaws
Heroes who earn such warm applause

What we are is what they choose to see

We do what others fear to do
We watch what others fear to view
We twist and bend the weave’s taboo

What we are is what they wish to be

We are the saviors of the world
Pariahs, fools and mages all of us
We dance the palm of magic’s hand
Masters, slaves and sages, all at once

We move the magic of the spheres
We see what’s more than it appears
Power stretching thousands of our years

What we do will change your history

We stop the world with a word
We make sure that we are heard
We shape the unreal and absurd

What we do keeps our souls free

We are the story witch
What they scare their children with
We are creatures of imagination
We live the dusty books
We bask in the awed looks
We fight and bend to temptation

We are magic...

[RollinsCat]

Dusk but I don't know
I don't have a window
It's only the feeling of quiet that speaks

The great room is sleeping
Night's tea is steeping
I haven't stepped out of the this room in a week

I can't feel my heart
I can't feel my head
And I have nothing and no one to blame
I can't feel my hands
I can't feel at all
I'm just a still life inside my own frame

If I could remember
That spark, that ember
The reasons I put myself here in this place

If I could forget
The sweetness and sweat
If I could accept life as a disgrace

But I can't let it go
And I can't keep it near
It's more than regret and it's more than my fear
Why now, after so long
Without the urge
Why does the need once again re-emerge?

I'm more than this, less than this, stronger and weaker
I can't escape myself least I too be lost
To that which defines me I'm losing the battle
Walking the fog and be damned the cost

But it can't mean nothing
It can't be for naught
This lady I lost, this pain that I've brought
I'm caught in the cycle of eternal guessing
And this is my life, there isn't a second
For me
For me

[RollinsCat]

My Dear Song Bird,
 
 Please Let my words be of comfort to you, as much as your song is to my heart. I am sorry that it has taken so long for me to write back, as I understand how waiting for word from one that you love can tear at your soul deeply with each passing moment.
 
 I crave for the moments we are together, whether it is to be as only friends or more, I will not push what is happening away. I will not deny how I feel. I will not deny that I love you as much as I love Omer, even if it is in different ways. You both hold my heart and that is something that I can not deny. I could not have forseen anything like this happening but I will not let go of such a feeling in my heart that aches for the feeling of belonging.
 
 You are right my heart will always belong to Omer, as yours will to the love of your life, but to be so distant from such a comforting feeling of their arms around us, has seen us become what can not be describe as friends. It is so much more. As if our souls have bonded in the wake of their absence. Yes it is confusing for us both but it simply is something neither of us can let go of.
 
 I do not go into our relationship without an understanding that should she walk back into your life or that of Omer walking back into my own that our hearts may feel as if torn in two direction. I want you to understand I would not hold your love for her against you and I would understand. I will understand and my heart will always.
 
 I will be your shelter, so long as you will promise me should your lady love return and again take your heart so devotedly into her embrace as you deserve, you will not turn away from what will be a most beautiful friendship.
 
 I was not so sure it was possible until I met you that love could exist between more than one soul at a time but you are right. It can and in your hands I place my heart for as long as you wish.
 
 Your song inspires and awakens meaning in the Al'noth, it breathes truth and light within. I hope to see you again soon so that I may hear it sung from your own lips.
 
 ~Elly



To:
Elohanna Min A'Litae
Care of the Tower Academy
Port Hempstead Municipal District
Port Hempstead
Kingdom of Brelin
Mistone

Angel. I enjoyed waking to you watching me, and our morning together. I'm sorry about my cooking, and the burnt toast and that stuff I called tea. I applaud your bravery in the face of my breakfast!

I confess to being very mixed up, as I feel you must be, about what we're doing. Or very carefully not doing. My heart still belongs to another, and so does yours. And yet - you soothe me. You feel like shelter, when I need that so much. And I know what stirs in my chest is more than a pat on your hand, or a chaste hug in times of need.

Time was, I would jump into your embrace and not look back. And I still want to - stars and song, I want to. But, I have to be honest. If she were to walk back into my life, I could not resist her any more than I can resist breathing. I wouldn't even want to. I think it might be the same for you and your Omar, yes?

So...do we offer each other shelter, with that caveat? Do we accept that there might be need to share our hearts, each of us? I can, and will, but you may not be as comfortable with that. I would lean back with a cheery smile and say we're "just friends" but...I felt you next to me, in the night, and I'm only glad you were spooning my back and not the other way around or I'd have been a great deal more embarassed than just my usual morning issues and your giggling about tents.

I put it before you and in your slender hands. I have room in my heart, Elly. Neither of us know what the future holds, but if holding each other makes that uncertainty easier...


Here is your song, I'm finally happy with it. Let me know what you think.

*the song "Al'Noth Outlaws" is attached on a separate parchment"*



Andrew

[RollinsCat]

A battle song that came to me today.  Ragnar is insane - the good kind of crazy.  Sometimes he reminds me of my brother.

We walk among the trees with our heads high
We are ready to protect, to fight and die
That which we do, will bring great pain to you
But we march
We march
For our gods, our country, our life

Lay down your sword and stand down your army
Terms can be met and we will peacefully leave
But fight, yes fight, and we will conquer you
And we march
We march
For our gods, our country, our life

Metal, flesh, tooth and claw
Backs to backs against the wall
Spells and prayers and bardic song
You should have let us pass

We stand as your survivors stack your dead
Our swords drawn and bloodied and red
And we pray, we pray, your life will start anew
As we march
We march
Home to our gods, our country, our life

[RollinsCat]

*A musical score is attached to the pages here, not in Andrew's hand but rather a precise, calligraphic elven hand and midnight blue ink.  The score is for a single violin, thunderous, angry, clearly written by someone whose connection to the music is far deeper than any mere musician or composer.  It appears to be part of a larger score.  The pages are attached with great care, although a few notes are blurred and the paper puckered in small droplet size circles.*

[RollinsCat]

It's high past time
For some stories to be told

It's high past time
For the silence to grow old

For those who died, and those who will, and those who sit and wait
It's high past time
That the truth unfold

Do we have the guts to stand and admit something's wrong
Peace is bought on the backs of those who can never hear this song
Evil is as evil does and it does what it wants to do
And it's high past time
We do something too

It's a hard, hard lie
Pretending to be kind

It's hard, hard lie
That justice wasn't blind

For the son and daughter of a King murdered by Rael's hand
It's a hard, hard lie
From a cold, cold mind

For slaves just wanting to be free from hunger's knife
For people who want to speak the truth about their life
For the ones who died to fuel the light down in the Deeps below
It's high past time
It's high past time
It's high past time
For the world to know

[RollinsCat]

My Dearest Song Bird,
 
 It means Daughter of the Light, My name that is. Elohanna Min A'Litae. It is a very old and ancient tongue of my people, but it is my name translated to common. When I first came to Mistone, I made a point of pridefully speaking my name in full but over the century since I have been on Mistone, it has been shortened to Elly or Hanna lovingly by those I treasure as friends. So I hold no ill will to being called Elly or Hanna, but I still hold pride that I am the last of my family as my own children have taken up the name of their father to which I hold no regrets.
 
 He is a wonderful man and his family has accepted me as part of their own. Though they are saddened that we are no longer together, as it breaks with many of our peoples traditions, and has broken many peoples hearts, my own included. They understand that I must also follow my heart.
 
 As you already know, sun elf's especially of our homeland, are very prideful people, very protective over the Al'noth, devoted to keeping histories and works of art safe and sacred. While our people are a very beautiful people it comes at a price of arrogance, something that I simply can not abide. I do not believe that any race is greater than another, not because of intelligence or wisdom, nor strength and pride, nor song and dance.
 
 It is grace and forgiveness that will survive the world of Layonara long after the strong become weak. It is the compassion of the weak that will help save the strong when they fall.
 
 My parents were not strong people physically, as their strength resided in their heart, their compassion and their ability to give their lives so that others could survive, so that our history would not be forgotten.
 
 My father's name is Elwe Lissesul an artisan himself, a sculpture, and archer. It is through him I learned my basic understanding of the bow, and why today I still carry one close to me for use should the occasion arise that I need it.
 
 My mother was a beautiful and enchanting woman, Enelya Sirfalas. She made the most exquisite of clothing, and captured life in such fascinating detail in paintings of her own. She was a woman of such radiating beauty not from only her physical appearance but from her heart within full of love and compassion.
 
 I have never really spoken to anyone of my parents, until now. I have mentioned them more in passing but they are worth remembering and cherishing. They are still very much apart of me, Andrew as I imagine your family will be, for better or worse.
 
 I know that I disappoint my own people as I can not hold to their beliefs that other races should be looked down upon. It is a blessing to know that some of my kin are now working in cooperation with others to help build up Ovdear, and finally understand that all races are worthy.
 
 So many things I thought would never happen when I stepped outside of Saida, things that I have come to accept but in my time, have changed drastically. Saida most of all opening to all races again to allow visitors. The sun now shines brightly in the sky again, despite Rhizome, the wisest of all Heirophant saying that it would never happen.
 
 I have learned many things and the most important recently, is that I cherish and embrace your love for all that it is worth. I hold your songs close to my heart and find myself humming them while I write, where I walk. I have found that you were right, that there simply is more than one person that it is possible for us to love.
 
 I also have found that I worry a lot more now, for you, your safety and where your head is lying. I treasure you so much Andrew and I am sorry that I have been drawn so far away. I hope to be returning soon.
 
 I love you very much Andrew and I long to hold you gently in my arms and gently brush your beautiful locks of soft hair away from your face as we look into each others eyes. I miss you. I pray that Aeridin keeps you safe and light shines within your heart, and that you keep a song for me.
 
 Always your Angel
 ~Elohanna Min A'Litae



Angel.

I know you've been busy with the Academy, and so I write to hopefully give you a moment's read and a smile.

You have asked me about my history and so for the first time I will write it all down, and give you full disclosure on the man who sings for you.

My family is primarily from Huangjin with a few exceptions, one being my paternal grandmother Rose. She migrated from the Kingdom of Erilyn on Alindor, a small town girl looking for a better life and who wanted to help here on Tilmar. So she told me, anyway - she didn't talk about her birth home very often. I remember her as being so tall, tall as the sky, taller than Grandfather Liang even with her boots on, with her fading red hair always catching the light and making a halo around her face while she taught me to play Bella.
Yes, a romantic vision, but she was a remarkable lady. I still do the ritual of honor to ancestors when I am home, for her and for Grandfather. She and Grandfather fell in love just as in the story - they told me that tale when I was a boy.

My maternal grandfather Akio has passed and I never knew him. My maternal grandmother is still alive, and I call her Gramma at her request. Her given name is Chihiro Mai. She is a traditional Huangjin lady; demure, quiet, subservient. Everything my mother is not, so I know what mother's personal rebellion was in her younger years. I think that is what allows my mother and I to understand each other sometimes. She remembers...not fitting in. My mother's name is Nana Margret, but she goes by Margret. Nana is a traditional name Huangjin name but she's never liked it. She says it makes her sound like a goat.

My father is William Reid. You might wonder about the names given in my birth home, but there has been a fad of "exotic" names here for some time, and William is considered "exotic" (as is Andrew, and Margret) to my people. Odd, eh? As for Reid, that is one of the other influxes of blood from off the island. All I know is that the family name is over four hundred years old, Corman Reid was very tall and blonde, and he was supposed to have come from Dregar. Actually, if my interpretation is right, he escaped from Dregar, so it would seem I have more color in my past that the family would like to admit. It wasn't until his influence was two generations gone that the geneology was kept as it should have been so I don't know more than that. I think this might have been on purpose.

Let's see - I have a sister, as I told you, and a brother, and a niece, and an Aunt Holly who is my mother's sister and is much like Gramma. I told you how my brother Shuichi has made a hobby of resenting me, and how he's taking up the family pottery business that great-Grandfather Kin started. Shuichi (his "exotic" name is Robert which is never used unless I call him Bobby which will always start a fight, so I do it often - we're both still children I think!) is married to Miyu, and they have one daughter that I have told you of, my niece Opal Mai. I don't see much of Miyu, she is also a traditional woman of my culture. The few times I've been able to talk with her - always in the kitchen, as cooking is her art - she has shown a fantastically dry sense of humor though. I hope Opal gets a dose of that as she's already got a gift for making people laugh at not quite seven years old.

My sister -- again, I told you. She does not speak to us. She is married to her society man, and her plebian family and drunken sot of a brother are a stain on her upward mobility. I know what pain this causes my mother. I think I write mother so often to try to dull that. I'm not sure how Aya got to be that way or if it is just the variability of human nature. I know this sounds naive but how can you turn away from your parents, so long as they were not abusive? Our parents treated us fair, taught us, and stood by us as we grew. The very second Aya was able to break away, legal marrying age without parent's assistance being fifteen, she did. That's why I don't talk about her. I don't write her either and I doubt she'd look at the letters if I did. I guess it still hurts a little, upon reading that.

So that's my family. I mentioned growing up singing, learning violin at eight from Grandmother Rose, and being adept at avoiding work throughout my childhood. I shirked whenever I could, chores, lessons, all of it. I learned when I was interested. I read books or played Bella, and I got into mild trouble once and a while but otherwise I was a polite child I'm told. Polite and lazy. I came to Ilsare at eight as well, and this I will tell you in speech because the printed word is not enough.

I mentioned Xeen to you before, but here is a more detailed look at how the Purple Lady has played my life. When I was a teenager I had no idea what I wanted to do and I was at the mercy of the feelings that boys have before turning men. Wait -- I'm still at the mercy of those feelings...

I met a pair of young women one fine summer day while I was out playing Bella and strolling the square. They flirted, I flirted, they invited me to come back and play for them privately -- I went, of course. Things happened, and my horizons were expanded. They seemed to enjoy me much as a sated cat enjoys a mouse, and I continued to be entertainment for them for about a year and a half. To a boy my age their attention was such an astounding gift -- I daresay I was quite cocky then, knowing what I did that others did not or could only pretend to boast about.

A month before my sixteenth birthday the ladies took me to a party in a temple. Xeen's temple. I will skip the details of the next few years, but when I had finally shaken the temple's influence for good I was a full-blown alcoholic and a drug addict. Perhaps just "addict" is a better word. I should also mention discovering -- here I hesitate, because this is very personal; not that I don't trust you but you may find this distasteful -- that I enjoy a certain amount of pain mixed with pleasure. I have to tell you that. It's not required for intimacy but it is...exciting, to me. I suppose my pain threshold is a little higher than it should be. Perhaps that's just the way I'm made?

I managed even as an addict. I played concerts, private engagements, and on a few occasions the Clamshell. It has always been shocking to me, especially after having formal education, how mediocre I really am. There are violinists that are so much better than I -- I think the alcohol helped me forget that. I was never first chair. I was good enough to make money to eat and cloth myself, but I lived in my family home, not on my own.

I told you why I left Huangjin; my assumed nuptials and my escaping of it. Love is another thing I'm constantly learning. I know familial love. But Eros, one of the defining tenants of my Heartsong, has been a failing for me. The one I lost began that lesson as no one else has. And I have learned, Elly, that there are things that cannot be forgiven. I hope to not make such mistakes with you. That I am an addict will never change, but my choice to follow that path has, and the consequences that follow I will avoid. Like making drunken decisions that air private things that result in painful betrayal. That sort of thing. I don't promise to be perfect. But now that you know the worst of me -- addict, enjoys pain, has made a tome's worth of bad decisions -- rest assured I will give you the best of me as well.

This has gotten rather long hasn't it?

I'll wrap up now and say simply that I hope we see each again soon.

Love,

Your Songbird

[RollinsCat]

*Two scrolls are attached inside the book.  The first appears completely blank with the exception of an ink stain where the score would start, and several hesitation marks, as if someone paused there for a long time trying to figure out how to get something down before finally giving up.  

On the next pages is a score, written in calligraphic elven hand and midnight blue ink, and primarily for flute.  It plays like a song of the wind over the sea, of a light breeze traveling everywhere and dancing over the waves.  It is scored for stringed instruments as well, that play the waves and the sea and measure out a driving three beat counter to the dancing, twisting four beat melody that floats above it.

All the pages are pressed into the songbook with no wrinkles, spaced with meticulous care.  They appear to be part of the paper unless once runs a finger along the edge.

There is but one page left in the book.  Written on the back of the page in neat italic script is the number I, the initials AWR, and a thin bar line next to a thick one.  The book is closed, and visible from the top nearly a quarter of the three-inch-thick tome's pages are missing, cut neatly from the spine.  It is set aside, the leather cover stroked just once.

A new book is brought out - brother to the one now lying on the oak desktop.  It is placed on the heavy wood stand, opened to the first page.  Large hands dip a quill in an ink pot that has been sitting long enough to acquire a little inky black moat, and a G-clef is precisely inscribed on the first line of the first page.  The quill is set down on the lip of the stand, waiting, and then the sound of a violin starts to swirl inside the small room.*

[RollinsCat]

*The music is finished, a score written for violin with a drum accompaniment.  There are words, but they are only visible, as the score is, as a shadow on the page underneath.  That first page is sliced in one even stroke from the book and set to dry.  In candlelight, the imprint of the words flicker on and off the second page, here and gone, fickle as a spoiled maiden.*

One last time to sing
One last time to play
One last musical caress before the end of day

One last gentle stroke
One last lingered note
One last soaring etude to take the mind away

Questions unanswered for lack of a face
Sound without words taking its place
Love from these hands that has never stopped flowing
Taking the form of melodic embrace

I play the part of wind
I play the part of sea
I play her anger that tears the strings deep inside of me

I play to understand
I play to feel her pain
I play to bring it to my core and imprint it on my brain

There was the once and there is the now
The music remains through trust's bitter death
Reaching and wishing but it's not enough
Move forward, move on, but this song's on my breath -

One last time to touch
One last time to feel
One last time to let her know my love was very real

[RollinsCat]

Once upon a time ago there was a cozy little village
Nestled tight by woods well hidden from life's pillage
And in that town of families lived a young lady and a lad
Who mixed like oil and water and drove each other mad
Mad
They drove each other mad

Johnny was a steadfast boy who farmed his father's land
Becky was a milkmaid and a real firebrand
They fought whenever they crossed paths and swore they'd never love
Swore on their graves and families and to the gods above
Above
Swore to the gods above

Well, Johnny came to want a wife and asked the village sage
What he had to do to find his true love to engage
The sage was in a trickster mood and a lover of a stunt
And so he told young Johnny to go set at trap to hunt, to hunt-
Go set a trap to hunt

Johnny pondered this advice and then he said "Why not?"
It can't do any worse than the luck I already got!
He went down to the river with wire, rope and knife
And set a lasso under leaves to catch himself a wife
Wife
To catch himself a wife
 
Becky came for water on that sunny summer day
Wandering to the river and daydreaming all the way
She paid scant attention to where she dainty step
And she walked straight into his trap
Trap
She walked into his trap
 
Johnny came a-running when he heard commotion there
A screaming and cursing loud enough to curdle summer air
It was not the wife he thought he sought who sat upon the grass
But Becky with a bucket and she was one angry lass
Lass
She was one angry lass
 
With a blush he pulled from her leg the clever wire noose
And was promptly rewarded with a foot to his caboose
He stumbled fast away, bottom bruised and face aghast
And she howled at him YOU ROTTEN BAST-oh, I cant say it!
She yelled a whole bunch!
 
Angry and embarassed he sought to make amends to the maid
And tried to explain his mission and the trap that he had laid
To his surprise she turned and stared, her invective sudden stopped
She giggled, then again, then laughed until she dropped
Dropped
She laughed until she dropped

His face went hot then looked did he and saw with open eyes
What he'd tried to do that day and then to his surprise
He started chuckling too as the daytime fade away
And they sat together laughing in the evening's coming shade
Shade
They laughed under the shade

The two who never could be nice were suddenly set to talking
And back to town they went with both together walking
The townsfolk were agog at the sight of them at peace
But the sage, he smiled and spoke to himself "The wonders never cease
Cease
The wonders never cease"

Now love's a many-splendored thing as history provides
Not a full year later Johnny took Becky as his bride
It seems you should be careful about swearing to the gods
For the gods are always listening and they control the odds
Odds
They always have the odds!

[RollinsCat]

*A letter is dropped on the oak desk, large hands tapping the surface and sometimes rubbing a knot along the front edge.  A candle is moved closer, and the letter picked up - the dark-skinned man moves it to the flame, the edge catching -

Then he stops.  His almond shaped eyes reflect the candlelight as a mad glitter and he move the letter away from the fire and sets it down on the desk, patting out the burnt corner.

He begins to fold.  Over, over again, a corner, another...he folds, turns, and folds again, only to mutter curses in his ancestor's tongue and start again.  And again.  His concentration is complete, the fingers smoothing then opening then folding and smoothing again, the restarts smearing the ink and crinkling the paper until the words are blurred to illegibility.

He sits back, the paper folded now into a long torso with four legs.  His fingers run over the protruding knot on the desk, back and forth, back and forth, oil and ink occasionally jerking his fingers to a stop on the otherwise frictionless wood.

He might have dozed off, or been dreaming awake.  He isn't sure.  A firm, warm tenor voice from his childhood leaves dreamy echos inside his head as he snaps back erect and grabs the rumpled paper.  It is smoothed flat as much as it can be then folded again - this time, three new folds, then the body, then six more quick twists and the body has a head as well as legs.  A long piece is flipped out of the center, forming a tail.

He taps the tail and the center crease tents, pulling the head back in a soundless roar.  Grinning to himself, he picks up the blue-stained tiger and tosses it up to a shelf over his chests.  It lands on it's feet.

He chuckles and wipes clean his fingers, picks up his violin and walks out the door.*

[RollinsCat]

*the following is written in a graceful flowing script**

Andrew,

Iracce my friend, it is my hope that this letter finds you well and in good health.  I am thinking back to our conversation while we were in Haven mines, and with that in mind, it would be a pleasure to show you some of the fighting style I have learned to use with a rapier.  If you are willing, of course, and have the time with which to indulge me in this.

Perhaps we might start by meeting in the arena in Vehl, as it is well suited to any practice of arms.  Also, it happily boasts a well stocked bar in the building, as believe me I have discovered that any such training can result in a most powerful thirst, which is the bane of any warrior.  If you're agreeable, send me word and we'll find a time to get started.

Although, I hope to leave you with a thought to already start you on your path, as it is one of the most valuable lessons I have learned.  The oft most valuable skills in a fight are those of observation and thought.  Many will tell you it is strength and speed which will prevail, and true enough they will, but they are nothing without direction.  So observe your opponent as they engage you, and let your thought direct you best as to how to avoid their blows, and to place your own strikes.

Until next we meet, may the light grace your path.

~Damon Silverdawn~


Damon;

Iracee, and I was glad to see your letter. I have trained with the rapier on and off since I was twelve, but until the last few years I have not taken it seriously. Until the last few years, I have not had to; it was a lover I enjoyed and left, eschewing commitment for a moment of frenzied love, then walking away when the ardor cooled. Now I have the desire to make more of the motion than a thrust and repeat; I'm done flirting with the rapier, it is time to commit.

Your skills were astounding, it was as watching a work of art - indeed I think the rapier lends itself to that analogy on many levels, from the movements of a conductor's baton to those of a painter in a moment of passionate focus. Thus my torrid love affair with the instrument, and my wide-eyed viewing of your skills.

I take your tip to heart and I will gladly submit to your teachings. The Arena will work for me. I can be there most any day (evenings I tend to play the taverns, a man has to pay the rent). Would the beginning of the coming week work for you?

May the Heartsong keep your swordarm inspired,


Andrew Reid

[RollinsCat]

Emwonk, Euchloe, and Destiny.  Could yesterday have been any more interesting?

A silver-eyed lady
A brush with my fate
Or just another crazy streetside debate

A pawn or a jester
A bigger fool I
To walk up and look right into her eyes?

Sing, willow, sing
It's not for us to know
Sing willow sing
I'm moving with the flow

You get a little tired sometimes of all the world knowing
It's an odd transparency, this gorilla in the room
Game pieces shuffled round thinking we know where we're going
Playing out someone else's scenes in our fleshy life costume

Sing, willow, sing
It's not for us to know
Sing willow sing
I'm moving with the flow

And still here I wonder
And wait for my turn
And think that it's strange I have no concern

Maybe I'll be here -- but
Maybe I won't
Maybe I'll sink and maybe I'll float

Destiny beckons me
Then she walks away
With a promise that tingles of "until, someday"

Sing, willow, sing...



Andrew Reid
137 Leringard
Leringard
Kingdom of Trelania
Mistone

Dear Andrew,

First I must offer my most sincere apologies. As you may imagine the waves from the tsunamis have reverberated the subtle and not so subtle movements in Mistone. Here at the Breath of the Muse it has been... Let us simply say, difficult months and years. Amidst the hustle and bustle much of the correspondence was unfortunately filtered by priority and in such times, well I am sure you understand.

Let me ease your mind first, Mr. Whenissy is safe and sound, though perhaps the latter is an understatement for such a man! After the initial tidal onslaught he, along with many members of the Resonance of Being took it upon themselves to aid those most in need and Mr. Whenissy himself who had more pull than others saw fit to use such weight within the courts that would listen.

He has now returned and things have calmed just enough for us to be given some time to sort the discord such calamities brought into our lives. He oversees the reconstruction of the Resonance of Being and is quite eager to (as often he is) to hear from those interested in his fate and that of his and Hers. Feel free to show him this letter if it aids you, however if I recall you from our short meeting then he most certainly wont be needing it.

Heartsong's Blessing,
Euchloe Summerleaf

[RollinsCat]

Dear Andrew,
 
 I am firstly very sorry that I have taken so long to send you a copy of the application for the Tower Academy, please take comfort that I did not forget but have been rather occupied.
 
 I have attached a copy of the application though it is very generic it still applies to you in your personal field of study.
 
 Secondly I wish to remind you just how much I love you and do hope to see you again soon. Again I will be around the Tower Academy a great deal over the next few weeks.
 
 ~Elohanna Min A'Litae
 Headmistress, Tower Academy of Port Hempstead
 
 
 Tower Academy Teacher Candidate Application

Please respond to each of the questions below and return your application to the Tower Academy, Municipal District, Port Hempstead. We appreciate your interest in our organization and look forward to hearing from you.

 

• What is your area of expertise?
• How long have you been studying in your current profession?
• Do you prefer field or class, instruction?
• Do you have other areas of study that you would be willing to teach if the need arises?
• Do you have a preferred size of class?
• Why do you seek to teach here?
• What do you hope to accomplish as a teacher here at the Tower Academy?
• Do you prefer one on one instruction or group instruction?
• What dress do you prefer for students, yourself?
• How do you prefer to be addressed?

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