Dremerie smiles mischievously as she dips her hand into her hat and quickly pulls out a charredpiece of parchment.
Quivalin exclaims, "Burnt out, that's me!"
Dremerie says, "I think this one's been in Silvergate."
Dremerie says, "Seems a bit... hot."
Kadesha glances at Chutnee.
Mystra glances at Dremerie.
You glance at Chutnee.
(Dremerie peers at the parchment as she unfolds it...)
Dremerie recites:
"CHUTNEE! Strut on up here and show us what ya got!"
You see Lady Chutnee BornOdepression the Sylvankind Bardess.
She appears to be in her 60's, has very long black hair, multihued
eyes, and lily white skin.
She has a green wisp of smoke tattoo on her waist, and a flaming arrow
tattoo on her ankle.
She is in good shape.
She is wearing a thin antique gold ribbon, a glyph-etched golden topaz
earcuff, a gilded monir theorbo case, a red Ivas symbol, a pearl and golden
topaz clasp, a diaphanous pale yellow shawl, a sterling masque pin, a back-laced
pale yellow bodice, a butter-hued soft brocade pouch, a cinnamon-red full
suede skirt, and a pair of alizarin silk slippers.
Chutnee slowly empties her lungs.
(Chutnee moves to the front of the room.)
Chutnee just opened a gilded monir theorbo case.
Chutnee removes a silvergilt ebonwood theorbo from in her theorbo case.
Chutnee says, "Desperation..."
Chutnee plucks at the strings of her theorbo, checking the tone.
The string makes a dull *thud* as she releases it.
Chutnee says, "It is a feeling which fills and enfolds us mortals when we become unsure of what is to come or what we are to do..."
Chutnee bites her lip.
Chutnee says, "Or sometimes even when we become too sure of such," as she stares down thoughtfully at her theorbo, "and don't see the ends we expect..."
Chutnee carefully checks the strings of her theorbo, plucking them lightly and adjusting the tension until the sound is perfectly pitched.
Chutnee says, "At such times it's quite natural for us to seek the counsel
and confirmation of a higher power..."
Chutnee gazes heavenward.
Chutnee says, "Often to unexpected results to both yay-sayer and nay-sayer
alike... "
Chutnee narrows her eyes.
(Chutnee continues to stare into the heavens for a moment longer before returning her attention to the crowd.)
Deliberately, Chutnee wraps her hand around the neck of her theorbo, sets her fingers to the strings and begins to play.
Chutnee sings:
"Desperation is a mortal trait
Brought to fore when battle we winds of fate.
Intent and purpose though we can debate,
Its shiv'ry essence will catch as bait
All whom hope has abandoned..."
(Chutnee takes a purposefully audible and sharp breath before sounding
the final note of the chorus.)
Chutnee sings:
"~ ...long!"
Making the beat of the song even more infectious, Chutnee sharply thumps
the belly of her theorbo in time with the music.
Chutnee sings:
"On a rooftop of a frontier town,
As battleplans of gods razed all around,
A cleric chose to make her voice resound
To one in whom fleshly pleasures drown
With plea to undo place of faith."
Chutnee traces the lines of her wisp of smoke tattoo.
(Chutnee takes a noticeably quick and short breath, as one would in
excitement.)
Chutnee sweeps the music upward in a swelling crescendo of vibrant
harmony.
Chutnee sings:
"'Oh goddess mine, I bring sacrifice,
By machination and cunning device,
Fully knowing mere pray'r cannot suffice
When thy hand would I to act entice
To take down each stone upon stone!'"
Chutnee tilts her head up.
Chutnee places her hand on her Ivas symbol.
Chutnee plucks her instrument's lower strings, adding a driving bass
foundation to the melody.
Chutnee sings:
"Couples three meant with dark death to dance,
Shouted 'Priestess, ye summon black mischance!'
Yet she gave them blunt summ'ry of her stance
--
'No vict'ry yet does this war advance!
Let come Ivas' wile and will!'"
(Chutnee 's eyes take on a smoky haze, giving the irises a cloudy green
tint.)
Chutnee makes a dramatic change in the song's dynamics, sweeping from
soft to loud in a sharp crescendo then back into the middle ranges.
Chutnee sings:
"The thunder roared and the lightning cracked
As darkling force revealed the punch it packed.
'Fool, by She-Lust need I not actions backed!'
Snick'ring low as cleric life soon lacked
Atop manor where famous met."
A pained expression crosses Chutnee's face.
Chutnee furrows her brow.
Chutnee plays with a quiet beauty, the muted notes subtle and yet profoundly
effecting.
Chutnee sings:
"Drew back darkness in fear and distrust
As Winter's cat upon roof paws did thrust,
And with feline lick kept from turning dust
Mortal who absented self from trust
For Prophet own to stir life's flame."
(Chutnee clenches her jaw tightly as she plucks at the strings of the
theorbo with quick, sharp strokes.)
Chutnee plucks her instrument's lower strings, adding a driving bass
foundation to the melody.
Chutnee sings:
"Desperation is a mortal trait
Brought to fore when battle we winds of fate.
Intent and purpose though we can debate,
Its wav'ring essence will sure make wait
All whom hope has not yet to..."
(Chutnee draws in an abrupt intake of breath.)
Chutnee sings:
"~ ...find!"
Chutnee adds in a soft harmony, the muted strains complimenting the
melody beautifully.
Chutnee sings:
"Kneeling with rev'rence in quiet place,
Was one who sought foul doubt to erase.
'Goddess Rebirth, do all my fears unlace!
Did I with fierce anger box abase
Of future use in time of need?'"
(Chutnee shakes her head slowly and thoughtfully as she considers this
question.)
Chutnee coaxes rich notes from her theorbo with a showy variant on
the common strum.
Chutnee sings:
"Answered not voice of fair elven lass
But one whose tongue slid like waves over
glass.
'Given one gift, ye now sssseek to amass
More than yer right in what comesss
to pass.
So another gift grant I ye.'"
Chutnee smirks.
(Chutnee runs a fingertip sinuously down the
entire length of a single string of the theorbo, causing the instrument
to emit a drawn-out sigh of serpentine sound.)
With nimble fingers, Chutnee adds a contrasting countermelody to her
song, skillfully creating a dramatic effect.
Chutnee sings:
"'Heal no more, healer! Yet know ye pain!
Learn what price is charged those who
do disdain
What those higher do from sssuch actsss
ordain
When much is lossst for ssso little
gain!'
So was curse incanted on she."
Chutnee shudders.
(Chutnee purposely strikes a discordant chord on the theorbo, letting
the strident sound screech through the air.)
The quiet strains of Chutnee's lugubrious melody evoke memories of cloudy
autumn days and now-quiet battlegrounds.
Chutnee sings:
"Chains of agony held sound and fast
With each curing spell she did prep and cast
And as days stretched out to weeks curse did
last
Regret she did o'erhaste of the past
Where thought had come too slow and late."
Chutnee sighs softly.
With an outpouring of vibrant sound, Chutnee bursts into an inspirational
chorus of dynamic resonance.
Chutnee sings:
"'My thinking hence will be tried and true
As patience in my will I shall imbue.'
Then lifted curse as if on strictest cue.
As earnestness was given full due,
Unworldly means broke worldly bonds."
Chutnee stares off into space.
Chutnee mutters something about miracles.
Chutnee reaches up with a skilled hand to strike the strings of her
theorbo, creating ringing notes to accompany the driving bass melody.
Chutnee sings:
"Desperation is a mortal trait
Brought to fore when battle we winds of fate.
Intent and purpose though we can debate,
Its glowing essence 'lieves dire strait
In all whom hope quick will not..."
(Chutnee uses a quick and almost sighing breath for emphasis.)
Chutnee sings:
"~ ...die!"
With a complex series of chords Chutnee bridges into a new key, taking
the theme to a new level of exaltation.
Chutnee sings:
"'Hear the call of your faithful this night,'
Spoke priest into halo of candle's light.
'Come we for guidance through this fiery fight,
To counter mage of both myth and might
Before our city meets its doom!'"
(Chutnee worries a single string of the theorbo between her thumb and forefinger, creating a sound akin to a low and intense hum.)
Chutnee brushes her fingers over the strings, modulating softly from chord to chord as if playing to herself.
Chutnee sings:
"Hall of night filled with both peace and dreams,
Walls touched with bright stars and pale moonlight
beams.
Quiet with darkness melding without seams,
As soft persuasion diverse tight teams
To seek the method of reprieve."
Chutnee smiles quietly, her eyes taking on a misty quality, as her vision
seems to lose focus of anything in the room.
Chutnee reaches up with a skilled hand to strike the strings of her
theorbo, creating ringing notes to accompany the driving bass melody.
Chutnee sings:
"Candle spat as flame intense did flare
Before eyes of all who did gape and stare
As image formed and twined within the glare.
Serpent twisting as if on a dare
To provide 'solace' of its own."
(Chutnee 's eyes widen and then slowly a wry half-smile curls her lips.)
Chutnee slows the tempo of the ballad, adding a ponderous quality reminiscent
of the canticles heard in a temple.
Chutnee sings:
"Snake of black did coil, crawl and slide
Behind foreign altar to stalk and hide
As in shadows those akin did abide
With purpose to pull and turn the tide
To misplaced god who would have strife."
Chutnee stares at the theorbo in her hand.
(Chutnee tightens the grip on the neck of her theorbo.)
Impishly, Chutnee thumps out a complicated little beat on the belly
of her theorbo, displaying a possible proficiency in percussion as well
as strings.
Chutnee sings:
"Tendrils wrapped unseen in warmth and fame --
Token of god to whom none had made claim.
Yet did Night make known His true hand and
aim,
Raising high and strong the candle flame
To cleanse and purify His hall."
(Chutnee 's fingers instinctively clutch at the neck of the theorbo.)
Chutnee slowly empties her lungs.
(Chutnee 's fingers relax on the silvergilded neck of the ebonwood
instrument.)
Chutnee strikes every other note on the neck of the guitar, hand flashing
back and forth between the upper and lower reaches of her theorbo.
Chutnee reaches up with a skilled hand to strike the strings of her
theorbo, creating ringing notes to accompany the driving bass melody.
Chutnee sings:
"Desperation is a mortal state
Put in motion by turns and twists of fate.
Intent and purpose let the gods relate
As firmly do they precipitate
Rescue from desperation's..."
(Chutnee pulls in an expressively loud breath with pointed accuracy.)
Chutnee sings:
"~ ...maw!"
(Chutnee holds her hands poised and unmoving over the strings of the
theorbo for a moment.)
Chutnee recites:
"Ye who cry out to any higher power, abandon all expectations!"
Chutnee slides her fingers up the neck of her theorbo, taking the song
higher and building towards a level of intensity not previously reached.
Chutnee plucks at the strings of her theorbo, checking the tone.
The string makes a high pitched *twang* as she releases it.
(Chutnee resumes the smooth movement of her hands on the strings, letting
the sound intentionally recommence.)
With a final dramatic flourish, Chutnee takes her fingers from the
strings, letting the notes fade into a profound silence.
(Chutnee bows gracefully from the waist over her theorbo.)
Dremerie exclaims, "Mystra! Quit playing footsie with Dagor! He's supposed
to be trying to add up the scores!"
Dremerie glares at Mystra.
Mirare asks, "Dagor can add?"
(Dagor counts on his fingers)
Quivalin asks, "You're letting him do the math?"
Yhasmine says, "I love this house .."
(Yhasmine’s comment wasn’t actually related, so far as I know, but the timing was great.)
Dagor nods to Quivalin.
Yhasmine gazes in wonder at her surroundings.
Juspera winks at Yhasmine.
Quivalin exclaims, "Egad!"
Dremerie says, "Aye. He can add. Even if he thinks he has 12 finners
instead of 10."
Mystra smiles whispering softly into Dagor's ear.
Yhasmine says, "Remind me to join."
Yhasmine twiddles her thumbs.
You say, "Apply first."
Yhasmine says, "Aye, of course."
You say, "And beware Dremerie's tattoo needle if you're inducted...."
Dagor exclaims, "Nae now love!"
You let out an exasperated, "Pbpbpb."
Yhasmine grins at you.
(Mystra kisses Dagor on the ear.)
Dagor exclaims, "Later!"
Dagor beams happily at Mystra!
(Tanager rubs the back of her neck, beneath the concealing braids.)
Dremerie says, "I tattoo ALL new members of the House, Jacinto."
Jacinto says, "Baah. Only male and female Bards."
Mnar asks, "What other types of bards are there?"
Larktrill asks, "only male and female bards, ye hoping fer other choices?"
Mnar cocks his head at Jacinto.
Ylena says, "Naked."
Ylena nods to Mnar.
(Where did Ylena find a naked bard that wasn’t male or female? I mean, I’d trust her to do it if anyone could, but....)
You pretend to be oblivious to the world around you.
Dremerie smiles as she stirs the papers in her hat waiting for folks to settle down again.
Mnar says, "If I were a bard, I'd probably be drunk most of the time
too."
Juspera asks, "Why is that, Mnar?"
Ylena says, "I'm so mean."
(Again, I’m fairly sure this is a nonsequiter comment– but, looking back, I find so many great nonsequiters that it’s often hard to resist.)
Mnar says, "Lethe."