Ozymandias's new perch in Port Hampstead

[Praylor Falcus]

Many are the day's most of us have entered the town and seen the Master bard, ever standing in the same location. He's wisdom available to any whom would ask. He's stories and history of Layanara informative and entertaining.


  Tis this reason i ask the following, One more versed in the written text, and far more eloquent of verbage, to submit a request to the town council. The purpose being that the master bard is an asset to any he meets and anything we could do to assist him should be done.


  My purposal is to have a chair placed at his chosen perch sight, perhaps with a bench or two for others of us to sit a partake of his wisdom and knowledge of the past. The cost of such of course will be made myself and others that relize his importance to all whom benefit from his presense. to wit i seed the collection with a pledge of one thousand trues to go to purchase and placement of the Master Bards perch

  Praylor Falcus.

[miltonyorkcastle]

*a ragged piece of parchment is tacked below Praylor's note by a silver dagger. the words displayed are in common, and appear to be written in some sort of reddish-brown ink. there is no signature*
  "The wisdom of the so-called master bard will soon freeze in the depths of the Abyss. Give him a perch, that it may be torn out from under him."

[Ozy_Llewellyn]

*Ozymandias himself wanders up and sees the notice, he opens and shuts his mouth a few times. Following this he rubs his eyes and looks to the sky with a strange expression normally reserved for comments such as ‘I like to eat live kittens’. Then writes in a shaking hand losing all pretence of ellegance.*

"Many will tread in the affairs of mortals. Others will dare dance with demons. But I warn all in my finite wisdom, that one should not meddle in the workings of paladins. For they are honorable and will seek to make the world a better place, if but one person at a time. It is most confusing but not entirely unappreciated...

- O.L.L.”

*After this he wanders off a strange grimace of delighted confusion upon his face, returning on occasion to repeat all the previous steps bar the actual writing*

[LynnJuniper]

*Penned onto the same paper as the dagger pinned reply*

"I Dare (The word dare is written as if the quill was pressed harder to paper at this point) you to sign your name to that so I know  which set of fingers I'm breaking.

~Rhynn"

*she proceeds to pin the note up by normal means, taking the dagger, with a contented smile*

[Yllyrryon]

Shrouded in silence with an ambience of frigid death, the Dark Warrior steps forth from a deep night’s shadows, a night in which living souls seek solace by the light and warmth of the hearth, and souls regarding themselves as having even a shred of goodness within them are no where to be seen or heard.

Written words are quickly perused by orbs glowing deep violet, now with tangible flecks of blood-crimson: delight in seeds of future conflict therein sown, and amusement at  contradictions, delusions, and hypocrisies perceived within the writings.

A name is noted and the thing vanishes as swiftly and silently as it had appeared, all traces of its brief presence soon lost amongst the subtle sinister forces already in play that eve, curses for some yet blessings for others.

[Tragik]

We see a large group of patrons of the Surge gathered around a table.  Atop that table is a foppish man dressed in all purple.  It is, of course, the single greatest bard in the history of everthing...the Buck~!  [COLOR=8b008b]"'I'd love to get rid of it', says the pirate,"[/COLOR] says the man in purple. [COLOR=8b008b]"'But it's drivin' me nuts!'" [/COLOR]  The crowd of patrons all start laughing at Buck's joke. One of them claps him on the back.   "Man, you sure are funny, Buck!"  Another shakes his hand.   "We sure do love having you around!"  Another raises his glass in a toast.  "I sure would love being a member of the Band of the Buck!"  Everyone raises their glasses to this toast and quaff their drinks.  The Buck takes the chance to step down from his perch and take a walk down the hall.  And there he spots the original posting...  [COLOR=8b008b]"No..."[/COLOR] says the Buck, his voice barely above a whisper.  He reads the dreaded words again.  Port Hampstead.  [COLOR=8b008b]"No.."[/COLOR] he says again.  He reads over the words again...finally coming to the realization that his mentor, his father-figure, Master Ozy, was no longer living in Hlint...  [COLOR=8b008b]"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!"[/COLOR] he screams, falling to his knees, his voice filled with anguish.  It all made sense now.  It all made sense.  He was never upon his perch.  He was never around.  He hadn't responded to his postings of his return, or given notice to his amazing tales of the Band of the Buck.  Because he wasn't in Hlint any longer.  It all made sense.  [COLOR=8b008b]"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!"[/COLOR]

[solarina]

was wondering where the bard went solarina murmured to herself before moving onwards

[Drizzlin]

*A dark figure comes up to the note and smirks at the hypocrisy and blind foolishness he finds in Ozy's statement. The figure is covered well, but anyone paying close attention can see that there seems to be spiders crawling about his body. The reply is done in the skilled hand writing of someone who has spent countless hours scribing scrolls.*

They say a child should always love their mother. In her worn years you should be there to tend to her, take care of her, and cherish her for the love she showed you. As a young boy can do no wrong in the eyes of his mother, nor can the mother who loved the boy ever do wrong.

They say to a child, the word god and mother can be used interchangeably, yet no mother would ever put a god above her child. However I find that the moment a paladin finds a god, he forgets his mother.

I never met a paladin that wouldn’t, in the name of his god and some absurd justice, drag his mother out of her bed in the middle of the night to be tried as a criminal for the very bread she stole to feed him growing up.

No. I shall not listen to the hypocrisy and blind justice of a man who places anything above his loving mother.

*signed*
Evil Is What the People in Charge Say It Is

[gilshem ironstone]

*Tristan sees the note written by the practiced hand and nods for a moment, he thinks to himself, seeming to weigh the message and then scribbles a reply in an equally practiced hand*  

Any paladin that performs an act, presuming that they know their gods mind is without wisdom.  For we as mortals can only hope to do our gods will on this plane, and are never guaranteed certainty.  Any paladin that does not weigh an act against circumstance is without justice and must have no claim to judgement.  For they then have no empathy in their heart for the strife that many face in their life.  Further, any person that resorts to violence before words to achieve their ends is of a reckless nature not to be trusted.  For they then deem themselves to be a source of righteousnees above the status of others.  This is not to say that action must not sometimes pre-empt words, but that to act presuming an absolute moral correctness is a path to folly, since morals are always relative to the person.  Katherian is a city that exemplifies this as most would consider slavery a repugnant act, but it is an accepted trade within those walls.  So as a paladin I have been taught to reserve judgement, and to presume no right or wrong, but to serve the need and circumstance of my situation as it arises, no precepts governing me except the protection of the Weave.  This lesson is not only for paladins of all creed, but for all who would desire change in their world.

-Tristan DeMoyer, Protector of the Weave