(Dremerie quickly dips her hand in her hat and pulls out a cleverly
folded parchment.)
Dremerie exclaims, "Why! It looks like a... a... heart!"
You glance at Quivalin.
Orobini glances at Quivalin.
Ahmeuseng begins chuckling at Quivalin.
Orobini asks, "what does the heart say?"
Dremerie smiles as she opens up the heart very carefully.
Rastavan says, "These doorprizes have gone downhill if we're starting
to hand out body parts."
Dremerie says, "Hmmm... I see a i in the name..."
Dremerie exclaims, "Quivaheart!"
You see Quivalin SongSpeak the Dark Elf Troubadour.
He appears to be in his 150's, has shoulder length, wavy silver hair,
grey eyes, and dark skin.
He is in good shape.
He is holding a flask of Erebor's tipple in his right hand.
He is wearing some polished mother-of-pearl cufflinks, a well-tailored
formal dress shirt with black modwir buttons carved in the shape of different
musical notes, an elegant black cavalier hat, some midnight black riding
pants, a pair of polished calf-high cavalry riding boots with mithril buckles
and gleaming spurs, a gold ring, a simple black spidersilk sash secured
with a silver lyre-shaped clip, a shadowy black silken pouch embroidered
with tiny silver musical notes, a silvery thanot lute case, a dingy black
vultite-studded sheath, an elegant black minstrel's cloak fastened at the
neck with a gleaming mithril lyre clasp, a well-made black spidersilk balladeer's
backpack clasped with an intricately carved treble clef, and a crystal
amulet.
Dremerie recites:
"Quivaheart, come sing me a song!"
Quivalin says, "Wow, the Aspis Bardfest! This yearly gathering of bards from hither and yon sure shows the tremendous diversity of the profession."
Quivalin gazes in wonder at his surroundings.
Quivalin says, "Look around. We've got more varieties of bards
here than you can shake an ale mug at. Now that brings up an interesting
question..."
Quivalin asks, "What makes a bard a bard?"
Quivalin says, "You know, when I was young and I'd spout off a question like that, people would say, "Shut up with yer nonsense, ya drunk!""
Quivalin says, "These days, I'm just as drunk; but older. Now they call it "deep" and "philosophical.""
Quivalin smiles and puts his cup down out of the way on the edge of the stage.
Quivalin says, "So that's one advantage to getting older. I'm
sure there are others, but I can't seem to remember what they are."
Quivalin says, "I guess that's one of the disadvantages."
Quivalin asks, "Anyway, where was I?"
You say, "Bardfest."
You smile at Quivalin.
Quivalin rubs his chin thoughtfully.
Quivalin asks, "Oh yes! What makes a bard a bard?"
Quivalin shrugs.
Quivalin says, "It depends on who you ask, I think. It is a matter
of some debate. I'm sure if I asked each of you here, I'd get as
many different answers as Ylena has shoes."
Quivalin says, "Everyone has their own idea. Tonight, though, I'm going to sing about a fellow I once met who definitely knew what he was looking for in a bard."
Quivalin says, "This is called "Help Wanted.""
Quivalin just opened a silvery thanot lute case.
Quivalin removes a worn dark ebonwood lute embellished around the body
with delicate silvery quarter notes from in his thanot lute case.
(Quivalin strikes up a merry tune.)
Quivalin sings:
""Bard Help Wanted," the tavern sign said,
Yep, "Bard Help Wanted" is all
it read.
With my purse light and my throat dry,
I walked on in, thinking I'd apply."
Quivalin sings:
"In the tavern, near a makeshift stage
Stood the tavernkeep, gray with age.
Four bards were there ahead of me,
So I took a seat and waited patiently."
Quivalin smiles and pauses his playing as he pantomimes the lifting
of a glass. It's clear no wait is too long as long as there's a full
glass within reach.
Quivalin sings:
"The tavernkeep said, looking at us all,
Listen up bards, it's a casting call.
It ain't enough that my ale is cold,
Gotta have a floor show, so I'm told."
Quivalin sings:
"I need someone to do what you bards do.
If you do it best, I'll hire you.
The pay's okay, and you drink for free,
If you're good enough, you can work
for me."
Quivalin smiles as he sings "drink for free." Actually, smile may be too weak a description of the excitement his expression conveys.
Quivalin sings:
"He sat down and the first bard rose,
taking the stage with a heroic pose.
"Well, tavernkeep, if I may tell,
I excel at what bards do well.""
(Quivalin stops playing and quickly cases his lute.)
Quivalin put a worn dark ebonwood lute embellished around the body
with delicate silvery quarter notes in his thanot lute case.
Quivalin removes a midnight black falchion from
in his vultite-studded sheath.
Quivalin waves a midnight black falchion around.
(Quivalin sings on with only the flash and swich of his blade for accompaniment.)
Quivalin sings:
"I swing harder than all the rest.
At strength in the attack, I'm the best."
The tavernkeep looked up, rather perplexed.
Shaking his head, he shouted, "NEXT!""
Quivalin put a midnight black falchion in his vultite-studded sheath.
Quivalin removes a worn dark ebonwood lute embellished around the body
with delicate silvery quarter notes from in his thanot lute case.
(Quivalin once again plays merrily as he sings.)
Quivalin sings:
"The second bard was dressed quite nice.
At all the lasses, he looked twice.
He was kissing hands and stealing glances,
always winking and appraising his chances."
(Quivalin plays on a bit, providing himself the opportunity to whisper something to a lass seated up front. You are too far away to hear what he says, but you can discern her blushing cheeks.)
Quivalin sings:
"The tavernkeep stared at bard Number Two
"What the heck kind of bard are you?"
The bard responded, looking hurt,
"Why I'm the land's greatest flirt!""
Quivalin sings:
"The tavernkeep was clearly vexed,
But all he did was holler "NEXT!"
No one moved, he yelled once more.
There was movement near the door."
Quivalin sings:
"Bard Three put down his cup
And then attempted to stand up.
He swayed and fell right to the floor.
From him escaped a drunken snore."
Quivalin smiles as he plays. You notice him glancing around.
He spies his cup from earlier and the smile widens. It quickly reverses,
however, when a serving girl collects up the cup before he reaches it.
Quivalin begins pouting.
Quivalin sings:
"The tavernkeep said with a sigh,
"There the best drunk does now lie.
Listen up, the rest of you.
Here's exactly what I wantcha ta do...""
(Quivalin picks up the pace of the playing. His voice coarsens
a bit as he sings the tavernkeeper's instructions.)
Quivalin sings:
"I really don't care how hard you swing.
If'n yer a bard, let me hear ya sing!
How you train is your own darn choice,
All I care about is your voice."
Quivalin sings:
"I really don't care how the ladies swoon.
If'n yer a bard, let me hear ya croon.
Lovesick pups are a waste of a seat.
They never order anything to eat."
Quivalin sings:
"I really don't care if you drink too long.
If'n yer a bard, let me hear a song.
I run a tavern, the drinks I do well.
It's the songs I expect you to sell."
(Quivalin quickly strums the lute. His voices takes on a youthful
excitement.)
Quivalin sings:
"The next bard said, "I've just the thing!
I'm a bard and I can really sing!
What do you have for me to sing to?
Just give me something and I'll show
you!"
(Quivalin continues to play, but the mood shifts and the lute sounds just a little bit ominous.)
Quivalin sings:
"The tavernkeep said, "I'll run you through,
If you sing a verse asking for value."
The bard gulped and proceeded to flee.
That left just the tavernkeep and me."
(Quivalin shifts the tone again. The lute's music becomes light
and airy.)
Quivalin sings:
"So I sang some short little ditty,
It was brief and rather witty.
So getting the job wasn't very tough.
But the tavernkeep regretted it soon
enough."
(Quivalin stops playing. He prepares to begin anew. But
before he starts, he looks up as though suddenly remembering something
and lowers his lute.)
Quivalin grins.
Quivalin says, "But that's another story..."
Quivalin chuckles.
Quivalin smiles and sings with only his clear voice ringing out over
the audience.
Quivalin sings:
"I'll close with a moral, every tale's got one,
Or you can't tell when the darn thing's
done.
A bard can do a multitude of things.
But a bard's not a bard until he sings."
Dagor recites:
"Barkeep paid a LOT fer tha' deal"
Lemandria asks, "After all the free booze, you became bard number three?"
Dagor says, "I seen ye drink"
(Orobini whisper Chastity, "How many lasses, ye think have fallen for
Quivalin?")
(Dremerie holds up ten fingers in Orobini's direction, then closes
her hands and opens them rapidly several more times.)
Dremerie recites:
"Don't leave yet Bhamma!"
Dremerie recites:
"Special doorprize coming up!!"
You see Lord Bhamma Gakherder the Dark Elf Rogue.
He appears to be in his 70's, has short, straight golden blond hair,
dark eyes, and tanned skin.
He has a huge black spider on his head.
He is in good shape.
He is holding a clear zircon in his right hand and a tankard of frothy
amber ale in his left hand. He is wearing a diamond-edged black vaalin
lockpick, a butterfly charm, a ragged wolfhide mantle, a leather sheath,
some patchwork leather armor, a dirt-covered sack, an official seal of
the Royal Order of the Helping Host, a small tanned hide shield, a wood-frame
hunter's pack, a shrunken dwarf's head, some soft deerskin boots, a glass
amulet, a gold star, and a ragged and torn hip-satchel.
(Somehow, I don’t think the GameHost was too worried about the door prize.)
Dremerie recites:
"And, to present the prize... and choose the winner...
Everyone's favorite GM
KRISTING!"
Kristing's crystal blue ice begins to glow with a deep sapphire blue light as it spins faster and faster. Soon it is spinning so fast it looks like a flashing ball of cold light held in her outstretched hand. Slowly it rises into the air, hovers for a moment, then flies towards Mirare, stopping before her surprised face. A soft female voice whispers...
"We choose Mirare."
The crystal blue ice darts away from Mirare and arcs back into Kristing's waiting hand. Slowly it stops spinning until it nestles quietly in her hand.
You see Mirare mirar the Elf Incantress.
She appears to be in her 80's, has very long white hair, violet eyes,
and dark skin.
She is in good shape.
She is holding a leather purse in her right hand.
She is wearing a beveled blue starstone earring, a silvery grey Jastev
symbol, a white silk cloak with a tiny purple silk rose border and heart-shaped
ruby clasp, some silver triple-moon earrings, a black gold-buttoned pack,
a pair of sheer black sorceress gloves clasped with moon-shaped sapphires,
an artist's black silk satchel, a royal purple hat, a shadowy black weapons
harness, some elven leathers, a fiery opaline moonstone clasp, a silver
triple-moon armband, a delicate red crystal rose, a silver moon-link belt,
a small Silvergate pin, a ruby and emerald lover's pin, a moon-shaped Zelia
pin, a heart-shaped ruby and emerald wedding band encircled by a thorny
vine, a delicate moon opal brooch, a veniom-worked black silk gem pouch,
a laje banded tower shield, a bright moon crest, a glyph-etched blue dreamstone
brooch, a black crescent moon amulet, a white ora Jastev medallion, and
a Jastev choker.
Dremerie recites:
"Mirare has won an alteration!"
"Bhamma says, "Ye have won me!" and bends down quickly and scoops Mirare
up in his arms and stands there. "Now where is it you wish to go?"
Bhamma winks.
Bhamma snaps his fingers.
Danay says, "Make him take that spider off."
Danay shudders.
Brynnywynn says, "I couldna agree more."
Ahmeuseng says, "An' cover those knees."
(Ouch.)