Original Submissions by Akaramu of type 'Logs'

• 

  The forgetful bard
  Added on Jul 4, 2010

  Zach and Nyli, both Fale employees, run into each other for the first of many times.

  ---

  The lissome, kohl-eyelined man rubs his forehead gently, a gradually deepening look of exhaustion crossing his features.

  You suffer from use of the Way.
  You send a telepathic message to the nubile, aureate-braided woman:
       "Hopefully, no crazy lasses will disturb my sleep! Have a wonderful and entertaining week, my lady."

  You dissolve the psychic link.

  You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.

  The lissome, kohl-eyelined man straightens himself to sit upright, then directs an absent glance to the lightly-tanned, one-armed woman.

  You look at the lightly-tanned, one-armed woman.
  This human woman's skin seems to have been spared the brunt of
  Suk-Krath's glare, leaving it with a lighter shade of bronze than that of
  the average Zalanthan.  Her face is mostly plain with pale lips, an
  average-sized nose, and dark eyebrows.  The only distinctive exceptions are
  her wide-set, startling pale-blue eyes.  Her dirty-blonde hair undulates
  loosely as it falls, reaching halfway down her back.  Her left arm ends in a
  hand that is soft but clearly no stranger to some sort of labor, while her
  right terminates midway between shoulder and elbow in an old, neatly healed
  wound.  The rest of her physique is trim, with a flat stomach and
  well-proportioned legs. 
  The lightly-tanned, one-armed woman is in excellent condition.

  The lightly-tanned, one-armed woman is using:
  <worn in hair>           a purple hair bangle
  <worn in left ear>       a small jade earring
  <worn in right ear>      a small jade earring
  <worn around neck>       a small jade brooch
  <worn about throat>      a translucent scarf of emerald muslin
  <worn across back>       a loose, purple-silk knapsack
  <right shoulder>         a vibrant indigo bird tattoo
  <worn around wrist>      a purple-spiralled bone bracelet
  <worn on left finger>    a bone ring set with lavender salt crystals
  <worn on left finger>    a smooth obsidian ring
  <worn on left finger>    a feathered maar ring
  <worn around body>       a purple and green silk cloak bearing the Fale sigil
  <worn on legs>           a gauzy green cotton skirt
  <worn on feet>           a pair of knee-high purple and green silk boots

  She is carrying:
  nothing obvious

  The lissome, kohl-eyelined man blinks.

  At your table, the lightly-tanned, one-armed woman says in sirihish, staring back at you with widened eyes:
       "What?"

  At your table, you say in sirihish, a somewhat weak, but friendly smile easing its way around his lips:
       "Where have I seen that cloak before?"

  The lissome, kohl-eyelined man pushes your black-feathered, purple hat into a straight position on top of his head, then gives the lightly-tanned, one-armed woman another look, his attention lingering longer this time.

  At your table, the lightly-tanned, one-armed woman says in sirihish, smiling again:
       "Probably on my shoulders, where I always keep it."

  At your table, you say in sirihish:
       "Ah, I've seen you around! Don't tell me... Nalya, was it? Or Nuri? mmmmh..."

  The lissome, kohl-eyelined man purses his full lips in thought.

  The lightly-tanned, one-armed woman waits with a patient smile.

  The lissome, kohl-eyelined man clicks his fingers.

  At your table, you say in sirihish:
       "I got it now!"

  At your table, you say in sirihish:
       "Nirya, am I right?"

  The lightly-tanned, one-armed woman shakes her head, her smile widening a bit more.

  The lissome, kohl-eyelined man exhales an overdramatic sigh.

  At your table, you say in sirihish:
       "Ah, I'm shite with names."

  The lissome, kohl-eyelined man lifts your black-feathered, purple hat from his head with a sweep of one hand, then turns it over demonstratively.

  At your table, the lightly-tanned, one-armed woman says in sirihish, chuckling:
       "Well good.  I'd feel awful if you knew my name but I couldn't even guess at yours."

  You stop using your black-feathered, purple hat.

  At your table, you say in sirihish:
       "The hat is too small, you see? There is only room for three, four, at most five names in there."

  The lissome, kohl-eyelined man chuckles in amusement at his own remark.

  The lightly-tanned, one-armed woman chuckles again.

  At your table, you say in sirihish:
       "Ah. Normally I have to get women drunk before they begin to enjoy my terrible jokes."

  At your table, the lightly-tanned, one-armed woman says in sirihish:
       "Why?  That one was clever."

  At your table, you say in sirihish, dipping his head forward somewhat to gaze deep into the lightly-tanned, one-armed woman's eyes before he continues, softly:
       "I am sorry dear, I am dead tired and it would likely be fair to make another attempt with your name when I feel more awake."

  At your table, you say in sirihish, supporting his words with a sweep of a hand:
       "Find me another day, and I'll get it right, I promise."

  At your table, the lightly-tanned, one-armed woman says in sirihish, pursing her lip:
       "Hmm, but, well, what if we saved eachother the embarassment and just pretend we've never actually met?  That sounds like more fun to me."

  At your table, you say in sirihish:
       "Just follow the slapping noises and someone will have found Zach the bard."

  The lissome, kohl-eyelined man blurts out a hearty chuckle.

  At your table, you say in sirihish:
       "Alrite then, next time we meet, it will be the first time."

  At your table, the lightly-tanned, one-armed woman says in sirihish, grinning:
       "Alright."

  At your table, you say in sirihish, crooking a slender finger:
       "But don't wait too long, or I might have forgotten that I already like you."

  The lissome, kohl-eyelined man shows the lightly-tanned, one-armed woman a playful wink from a single eye before he adjusts your black-feathered, purple hat, and rises from his seat.

  You stand up from a short wooden bar.

  Waving, the lightly-tanned, one-armed woman says to you, in sirihish:
       "Alright.  Goodbye, stranger-who-I-never-met."

  Humming quietly to himself, the lissome, kohl-eyelined man meanders between the tables towards the entryway, one hand fluttering a small wave over his shoulder.

  The lissome, kohl-eyelined man rubs his forehead gently, a gradually deepening look of exhaustion crossing his features.

  You suffer from use of the Way.
  You send a telepathic message to the nubile, aureate-braided woman:
       "Hopefully, no crazy lasses will disturb my sleep! Have a wonderful...

  
  Continue Reading...
• 

  The confused bard
  Added on Jul 4, 2010

  Women are trouble, such is life. And noble ladies? They are very fond of their songbirds. Sometimes, there is no easy choice to make.

  ---

  At your seat, you say in sirihish, his gaze drifting between your partially eaten bowl of erdlu wings and the nubile, aureate-braided woman as he speaks, a boyish smile lingering:

  "Ah, those are delightful."

  At your seat, the nubile, aureate-braided woman says in sirihish, her voice gentle as she swirls the contents of her goblet:

  "I must agree with you."

  You think:

  "Hopefully she still likes those almost inproper little remarks, heh."

  You eat your partially eaten bowl of erdlu wings.

  You are no longer hungry.

  Having emptied the bowl, the lissome, kohl-eyelined man eyes your green glass brandy snifter and switches it from his left to his right hand, still watching the nubile, aureate-braided woman from the corner of an eye.

  At your seat, you say in sirihish:

  "Have you had a delightful week, my lady?"

  You sip from your green glass brandy snifter.

  This tastes like strongly spiced brandy.

  You think:

  "This is the Krath-damned good stuff. Nothing like the gith piss in the Gaj."

  At your seat, the nubile, aureate-braided woman says in sirihish, eyes lifting to your face, ignoring the pleasantries:

  "What do you want to do Zach. I am really curious if it was your desire to be my concubine. I want to know your thoughts pet."

  You think:

  "Ah, so this is it..."

  Waiting expectantly, the nubile, aureate-braided woman sips from her round, amethyst-rimmed lapis goblet.

  At your seat, you say in sirihish, contemplating the contents of his glass as he speaks, in a cautiously respectful tone:

  "My lady, it is my desire to please you... however, this simple-minded bard does not know any of the... rules, or what is required."

  At your seat, you say in sirihish:

  "Lady Lapitia never spoke of... such things."

  You think:

  "Would I still be able to see Zara? But Krath, if I mention a common woman now, she might think I prefer Zara over her."

  At your seat, the nubile, aureate-braided woman says in sirihish, slender finger tracing the rim of her goblet idly, her tone patient and soft:

  "I am not Lady Lapitia my dear, but do not fret. If you were to be my concubine, I fear it would stun your creative avenues. You would never be allowed to be with..."

  You think:

  "And do I even have a free will in this? I don't want to lose her favor..."

  At your seat, the nubile, aureate-braided woman says in sirihish, clearing her throat:

  "You sould never be allowed to be with another while my concubine, Zach."

  At your seat, the nubile, aureate-braided woman says in sirihish, blinking at her goblet:

  "Would.."

  The nubile, aureate-braided woman sips from her round, amethyst-rimmed lapis goblet.

  The lissome, kohl-eyelined man nods as he listens, his gaze flicking towards the curving lines of the nubile, aureate-braided woman's lips briefly.

  You think:

  "Ah, Krath. Life will never be simple again, eh?"

  At your seat, you say in sirihish, softly, allowing his gaze to linger on the nubile, aureate-braided woman's lips for a longer time:

  "My lady, no other woman could match your charms."

  At your seat, you say in sirihish, with an undertone of amusement:

  "But half of the servant lasses within the household might fret..."

  At your seat, you say in sirihish:

  "I could be strangled in my sleep, or beaten with brooms."

  At your seat, the nubile, aureate-braided woman says in sirihish, artistically arched brow raising as her dark eyes lift to you:

  "I do not want to take your freedoms Zach. That is not my intent. Unfortunately I must be careful for obvious reasons, with who I lay with. If it is not your desire to be killed..."

  At your seat, the nubile, aureate-braided woman says in sirihish, continuing with some humor:

  "..with brooms, decline the position."

  The lissome, kohl-eyelined man considers the nubile, aureate-braided woman sidelong for a moment, his kohl-lined gaze softening as it traces along her braids and neck.

  The lissome, kohl-eyelined man releases a deep breath.

  You think:

  "I am likely a Krath-damned idiot, no matter what I do."

  At your seat, you say in sirihish, softly:

  "My lady, would you be offended... if I think about this, for a week or two?"

  You sip from your green glass brandy snifter.

  This tastes like strongly spiced brandy.

  The nubile, aureate-braided woman crosses her legs primly and readjusts the silk over her legs then lets her free hand drape over her knee.

  At your seat, the nubile, aureate-braided woman says in sirihish, smiling gently:

  "Of course I would not be opposed Zach. But I will give you another offer within this to consider."

  At your seat, you say in sirihish, curiously:

  "Another offer, my lady?"

  At your seat, the nubile, aureate-braided woman says in sirihish, her eyes focusing softly as she looks across the carriage:

  "Should you decide to be my concubine, if you find love your heart needs to persue, even after a week in that service.."

  At your seat, the nubile, aureate-braided woman says in sirihish, eyes moving up to focus on your face:

  "I will release you to your freedoms, while still remaining employed with me."

  The lissome, kohl-eyelined man takes another small sip from your green glass brandy snifter, apparently attempting to focus his attention on something other than the nubile, aureate-braided woman's curving bosom.

  You think:

  "Ah, shite. I always knew that in the end, women would get me into the most trouble."

  You think:

  "I know it... no matter what I do, at some time, it will result in trouble."

  You think:

  "But Krath, she's perfect..."

  You feel aroused.

  At your seat, you say in sirihish:

  "You are very kind, and generous, to make such an offer, my lady."

  At your seat, the nubile, aureate-braided woman says in sirihish, voice soft:

  "I could not keep my songbird in a gilded cage."

  The nubile, aureate-braided woman lifts her hand from her knee to rest on yours, fingertips gently tracing over it.

  At your seat, you say in sirihish, in an equally soft tone, favoring the nubile, aureate-braided woman with his warmest smile:

  "The songbird will always chant his sweetest songs, no matter what happens, because he adores his lady."

  The lissome, kohl-eyelined man gently places his hand on top of the nubile, aureate-braided woman's hand, each slender finger lightly caressing her skin.

  The nubile, aureate-braided woman grins briefly before lifting her chin and leaning towards you, her full lips grazing your jawline, warm breath washing down your neck.

  At your seat, you say in sirihish, mumbling with mock disapproval:

  "Ah, my lady, if this was a Kruth game... I would say you are cheating."

  The lissome, kohl-eyelined man releases a faint sigh, then closes his eyes, tilting his head slightly to ease the nubile, aureate-braided woman's access.

  Her lips moving up to linger over your ear teasingly, her voice low and lascivious, the nubile, aureate-braided woman whispers to you, in sirihish:

  "Wouldn't my Seniors be proud of me then, my pet?"

  You think:

  "Must... resist... her... now. I need some fecking time to think..."

  You think:

  "Resist..."

  You feel internal struggle.

  The lissome, kohl-eyelined man tightens his grip on the nubile, aureate-braided woman's hand somewhat, then releases it with a vague, and weak shake of his head.

  At your seat, you say in sirihish, with a somewhat strained tone as he turns his face away from the nubile, aureate-braided woman:

  "Forgive me, my lady... I need time... to think."

  At your seat, the nubile, aureate-braided woman says in sirihish, dropping back to her place in the chair, eyes on your:

  "I'm not trying to seduce you into an answer now Zach. Just seduce you."

  At your seat, you say in sirihish, a look of vague confusion crossing his features as he glances over to the nubile, aureate-braided woman:

  "Would this not mean... I am, I mean... would it make me..."

  The lissome, kohl-eyelined man sighs softly.

  At your seat, you say in sirihish:

  "See my lady, your charm is so strong... you turn me into a babbling idiot."

  You think:

  "And sometimes, that scares me... very much."

  At your seat, the nubile, aureate-braided woman says in sirihish, her hand under yours turning up to entangle her fingers amongst yours:

  "Not this once, my curiosity has the better of me Zach, anyway, would you not be the same man a week or two from now, should you accept?"

  A Pilot's Chamber [D Quit Save]

  A carved and gilded wooden bench, upholstered with comfortable purple

  leather padding, stands at the front of this low- ceilinged pilot's chamber,

  while other ornately fashioned benches, sitting a little further back against

  the walls, provide the occupants with a comfortable vantage point from which

  they can see out over the pilot's shoulder. A large baobab cabinet, fastened

  with a small gilt catch, sits within easy reach of the pilot, while a gilded

  wooden cask sits atop it, ready to dispense wine. Underfoot, a purple and

  green rug completely obscures the wooden planking of the floor. The walls

  are covered with woven tapestries, depicting scenes of Allanaki glory. The

  chamber smells of perfume and burnt spice.

  A leather-strapped, rich purple satchel is slung over the footboard of a large, agafari bed.

  A small, black-dyed wooden cask with silver stripes is pushed in the corner behind the table.

  An unlit slender yellow taper is standing upright in a small sconce built into the wall.

  An octagonal agate-topped table is set just to the side of the pilots bench, several chairs pulled around it.

  A small, purple-dyed wooden cask with green stripes is here pushed in the corner, strapped down to keep from sloshing.

  Affixed with leather ties, a plump leather cushion pads the driver's bench.

  A large tray is placed in the middle of the table, filled with various foods.

  The nubile, aureate-braided woman is sitting on a leather-covered, gilt-armed easy chair.

  The unibrowed, wide-shouldered man is standing here alertly.

  The lissome, kohl-eyelined man settles back on his seat, giving the nubile, aureate-braided woman's hand a gentle, though somewhat absent squeeze as he appears to mull the question over.

  At your seat, you say in sirihish:

  "I don't know, my lady. I am not the same man now than I was before I wore this cloak... "

  At your seat, you say in sirihish:

  "I might be a better man, or I might be a babbling idiot, who only comes to life in your presence. A more skilled artist, mayhaps..."

  At your seat, you say in sirihish:

  "but one with fewer friends?"

  At your seat, you say in sirihish, with an undertone of bitterness:

  "Envy runs like crotch-rot among the common populace."

  At your seat, you say in sirihish:

  "A bard with few friends does a poorer job, with less birds whispering into his ear. We work with stories, and the inspiration of others."

  At your seat, the nubile, aureate-braided woman says in sirihish, a soft smile curling her lips as she looks to her hand in yours:

  "You need not tell people. Nor do you need to fret over the future just now. All I want at this moment is to lay with you."

  At your seat, the nubile, aureate-braided woman says in sirihish, squeezing your hand before releasing it and moving to stand:

  "If you wish for it to not happen I suggest you make your desires known now."

  Witha graceful rise, silks clinging to her ample form, the nubile, aureate-braided woman stands up from a leather-covered, gilt-armed easy chair.

  At your seat, you say in sirihish, his features brightening at the instant as he considers the nubile, aureate-braided woman once more, and watches her rise:

  "Mmmmh... not tell anyone? I believe I would like... that, I like secrets, my lady... of course, none from you..."

  The nubile, aureate-braided woman turns to face you, head canting faintly.

  Wetting her full lips as she regards you, the nubile, aureate-braided woman asks you, in sirihish:

  "I didn't hear you pet. What was that?"

  You think:

  "Didn't I want to ask something today? Eh... can't fecking remember..."

  You think:

  "Something about... swords? Ah... no matter..."

  You think:

  "A flurry of sexual images"

  Speaking in a slightly darker tone as he pulls back the rim of your black-feathered, purple hat and turns his face to her, you say to the nubile, aureate-braided woman, in sirihish:

  "It was nothing important, my lady. Just a waste of time, and words."

  Turning with a swirl of lilac silk about her ankles, the nubile, aureate-braided woman asks you, in sirihish:

  "I am about to lock the trapdoor, do you choose to be inside our outside when it is done?"

  The nubile, aureate-braided woman moves over to a leather-strapped, rich purple satchel hung across the cramped bed wiht a silent stride.

  The nubile, aureate-braided woman opens a leather-strapped, rich purple satchel.

  The nubile, aureate-braided woman gets her jade-glazed keyring from a leather-strapped, rich purple satchel.

  You ask the nubile, aureate-braided woman, in sirihish:

  "Will I be able to walk, my lady?"

  The nubile, aureate-braided woman closes a leather-strapped, rich purple satchel.

  Arching a brow curiously as she turns to face you again, the nubile, aureate-braided woman asks you, in sirihish:

  "What do you mean Zach?"

  The lissome, kohl-eyelined man scratches his chin above the two hairy prongs of his goatee with a thumb, the flicker of a grin playing along his lips as he takes in every one of the nubile, aureate-braided woman's movements.

  You say to the nubile, aureate-braided woman, in sirihish:

  "Well, sometimes it works like an excellent drink... leaving me too light-headed and exhausted to climh down stairs, or ladders."

  Pursing her lips in thought as she watches your expression, the nubile, aureate-braided woman says to you, in sirihish:

  "I certainly hope you will still have minimal use of those legs. But Wesley can help you down if the need should arise."

  The nubile, aureate-braided woman flashes a grin and moves for the tradoor, pausing to look at you once more.

  Holding up her jade-glazed keyring, the nubile, aureate-braided woman asks you, in sirihish:

  "And what is your decision?"

  The lissome, kohl-eyelined man lifts a hand to flutter a small, playful wave towards the unibrowed, wide-shouldered man before returning his attention to the nubile, aureate-braided woman.

  The unibrowed, wide-shouldered man grunts, eyes darting off to look out on the yard.

  You say to the nubile, aureate-braided woman, in sirihish:

  "Mmmh, mayhaps outside then, my lady."

  You say, in sirihish:

  "Or inside? I am no good with decisions."

  You think:

  "Does it fecking matter?"

  His eyes locked on the nubile, aureate-braided woman as he speaks, distractedly, you say, in sirihish:

  "Mmh, no... outside it is."

  Leaning into the wall of the chamber with a sharply jutting hip, brown eyes still on you, the nubile, aureate-braided woman says to you, in sirihish:

  "As you wish pet."

  A quick glimps of disappointment crosses the nubile, aureate-braided woman's visage, quickly hidden behind an amicable smile.

  The nubile, aureate-braided woman stops using her round, amethyst-rimmed lapis goblet.

  The nubile, aureate-braided woman switches hands with her round, amethyst-rimmed lapis goblet and her keyring, taking her jade-glazed keyring in her right palm with an almost inaudible sigh.

  The nubile, aureate-braided woman walks across the carriage and sets down her goblet quietly on the table.

  The nubile, aureate-braided woman puts her round, amethyst-rimmed lapis goblet onto an octagonal agate-topped table.

  The lissome, kohl-eyelined man rises with a smooth motion and a soft rustle of your purple and green silk cloak bearing the Fale sigil, then sets your green glass brandy snifter down on the table with a forceful 'thud' before approaching the nubile, aureate-braided woman with a few swift strides.

  You stand up from a leather-covered, gilt-armed easy chair.

  You put your green glass brandy snifter onto an octagonal agate-topped table.

  Placing both hands on the wall to her right and left as he speaks, in a dark but gentle tone, next to her ear, you ask the nubile, aureate-braided woman, in sirihish:

  "Is it locked, my lady?"

  The nubile, aureate-braided woman looks at you with an interested flick of her gaze, watching you assessively.

  Softly, the nubile, aureate-braided woman says to you, in sirihish:

  "No."

  At your seat, you say in sirihish, his gaze drifting between your partially eaten bowl of erdlu wings and the nubile, aureate-braided woman as he speaks, a boyish smile lingering:

  "Ah, those are delightful."

  At your seat, the nubile, aureate-braided woman says in sirihish, her voice gentle...

  
  Continue Reading...
• 

  The lousy Allanaki bard
  Added on Apr 24, 2010

  Running into another, overly confident bard in Allanak, Zach decides to play down his skills, and just showoff his storytelling and entertainment value instead.

  ---

  At your table, the cherubic, silvery-eyed teen says in sirihish, leaning forward some:

  "Are you gonna write a song 'bout the war, then? D'you do that for 'sid?"

  The lissome, kohl-eyelined man's eyes have a roguish sparkle to them as he glances sidelong to the cherubic, silvery-eyed teen.

  The cherubic, silvery-eyed teen sips from her miniature barrel.

  At your table, you say in sirihish:

  "Mmmh. Sure, everyone likes 'sid... but 's about time I come up with another song, anyway."

  You think:

  "Wanna play the clues game with me, mmmh? Smart lass."

  The lissome, kohl-eyelined man splays the slender fingers of his right hand briefly.

  At your table, you say in sirihish:

  "These were gettin' a bit bored..."

  At your table, the cherubic, silvery-eyed teen says in sirihish, glancing at your hand:

  "Well.. the drum's borin'."

  At your table, the cherubic, silvery-eyed teen says in sirihish, shrugging:

  "Without a mandolin, anyway."

  The cherubic, silvery-eyed teen grins.

  At your table, the cherubic, silvery-eyed teen says in sirihish, looking into her miniature barrel:

  "I do it for 'sid. Doesn't pay good."

  At your table, you say in sirihish:

  "Ah, aye, I know... I used tha have a flute, and a mandolin... but 's the women, they always take what I have."

  At your table, the cherubic, silvery-eyed teen says in sirihish, frowning:

  "Women took your mandolin and flute? You should'a pounded them o'er the head"

  At your table, you say in sirihish, with a sheepish glance to the cherubic, silvery-eyed teen:

  "And play clues games with me."

  The cherubic, silvery-eyed teen chuckles.

  At your table, the cherubic, silvery-eyed teen says in sirihish, glancing sidelong at you:

  "Sounds like an interestin' story..."

  The cherubic, silvery-eyed teen stops using a miniature barrel.

  Passing it to the tall, amber-eyed woman, the cherubic, silvery-eyed teen discards her miniature barrel.

  At your table, you say in sirihish:

  "Well, there was this lass... Lia? Leya? I don't remember..."

  The cherubic, silvery-eyed teen nods briskly, watching you.

  At your table, you say in sirihish:

  "And we spent a nice long night... talkin'..."

  The cherubic, silvery-eyed teen nods a couple times.

  At your table, you say in sirihish:

  "And, well, as I wake up, all my things are gone."

  The lissome, kohl-eyelined man chuckles.

  You think:

  "And none of this is true."

  At your table, the cherubic, silvery-eyed teen says in sirihish, shaking her fist:

  "I would'a found her and..."

  At your table, the cherubic, silvery-eyed teen says in sirihish, sternly:

  "Nobody takes me mandolin"

  The cherubic, silvery-eyed teen sighs at you.

  At your table, you say in sirihish:

  "Mmmh, what to say, I'm a nice guy."

  At your table, the cherubic, silvery-eyed teen says in sirihish, thoughtfully:

  "Too nice."

  At your table, the cherubic, silvery-eyed teen says in sirihish, to you, grinning:

  "Maybe you'll let me steal your songs."

  At your table, the cherubic, silvery-eyed teen says in sirihish, sweetly:

  "I'll make them better."

  A look of exagerrated helplessness flushes across the lissome, kohl-eyelined man's face as he stares at his hands, sighing.

  The cherubic, silvery-eyed teen grins broadly.

  At your table, you say in sirihish:

  "Mmmh, maybe you steal 'em no matter what I say, neh?"

  At your table, the cherubic, silvery-eyed teen says in sirihish, with a smirk:

  "Well, it ain't like stealin' your things, but I'll keep me ears good and open."

  At your table, you say in sirihish, sweetly:

  "I'm just a party singer. Surely I could neh match your skill at the competition."

  At your table, the cherubic, silvery-eyed teen says in sirihish, shrugging:

  "Well - you know... I -am- the best song maker in 'Nak."

  The cherubic, silvery-eyed teen stiffles a chuckle, then nods gravely.

  The lissome, kohl-eyelined man dips his head closer to the cherubic, silvery-eyed teen, the three piercings within his left ear shimmering darkly as a handful of tresses fall over his shoulder.

  The cherubic, silvery-eyed teen inches back a little, nervously.

  At your table, you say in sirihish, giving the cherubic, silvery-eyed teen an apoplogetic, dark-lashed gaze:

  "Got any master's advice, mayhaps?"

  At your table, you say in sirihish:

  "To level the playin' field a little? I'd hate ta see a nice lass like you bored..."

  At your table, the cherubic, silvery-eyed teen says in sirihish, relaxing:

  "Uh... well.. I ain't heard your stuff enough to comment."

  At your table, you say in sirihish, shifting back into his former position:

  "Mmmh."

  At your table, you say in sirihish:

  "Maybe we can fix that, neh?"

  You are carrying:

  a spiral-glazed goblet drum

  Grinning slightly, the cherubic, silvery-eyed teen flicks a finger toward the stage.

  The lissome, kohl-eyelined man lifts your spiral-glazed goblet drum from his lap and gently brushes some dust from it with his fingertips.

  The Main Room of the Bard's Barrel [NSW]

  A myriad of grinning skulls, each painted with bright colors laid

  over the pallid bone, stare down from the broad wooden shelf that lines this

  spacious room at eye level. Splashes of blue, green and red cover the clay

  brick walls in an enthusiastic but inexpert abstract mural, some spatters of

  the same paint dotted across the red tiled floor. The room is filled with

  clamor: the clink and clatter of dishes and drinks, instruments being tuned,

  scraps of song, and a general constant roar of conversation. A small wooden

  stage sits along the northern wall, two ragged velvet curtains framing it,

  looped back with blue-dyed ropes. A wide archway leads out onto the dusty

  street, while a smaller one to the west provides a glimpse of a smaller,

  quieter chamber.

  A wall here is designated as a message board.

  The cherubic, silvery-eyed teen is sitting at a boxy wooden bar.

  A lean, grey-eyed bard leans against the stage.

  A lean, spike-haired elf drums softly in the corner.

  A tall, amber-eyed woman polishes glasses behind the boxy wooden bar.

  The husky, weatherworn dwarf is here, seated at a large table, drinking ale.

  The huge, sun-bronzed man surveys the room casually from a table here.

  The bald, muscular woman slouches at a large table, drinking ale.

  The small, dark-haired man sits at a table in the back, staring into his drink.

  The solemn, club-footed man limps slowly along here.

  At your table, you say in sirihish, following the cherubic, silvery-eyed teen's motion with his eyes:

  "Ah, neh... that's tha' host's place."

  The cherubic, silvery-eyed teen glances at the stage once more, then nods.

  At your table, you say in sirihish:

  "Would be bold ta claim it..."

  The lissome, kohl-eyelined man winks to a grey-eyed bard from the shade of his hat.

  At your table, the cherubic, silvery-eyed teen says in sirihish, dipping her chin:

  "Awight"

  The lissome, kohl-eyelined man tucks your spiral-glazed goblet drum beneath his left arm, his dark lashes sinking downwards slowly.

  The lissome, kohl-eyelined man begins to play a crude rhythm, his dancing palm and fingers producing a pattern of a few simple beats.

  The cherubic, silvery-eyed teen's head very subtly bobs with the beat, eyes shifting between you and your drum.

  A rough, coarse and not very melodic tone to his voice, you sing, in sirihish:

  "I'm a lousy bard..."

  His gaze shifting towards a nearby table of gamblers, you sing, in sirihish:

  "Can not even play a card..."

  Amusement flashes across the cherubic, silvery-eyed teen's face.

  You sing, in sirihish:

  "I can't play any song..."

  You are a little hungry.

  His voice accompanied by a dissonant rhythm from your spiral-glazed goblet drum, you sing, in sirihish:

  "Been a beginner too long..."

  You sing, in sirihish:

  "I never heard of tha war..."

  Flashing the cherubic, silvery-eyed teen a warm smile, you sing, in sirihish:

  "But the lass at mah side is a star..."

  The cherubic, silvery-eyed teen rolls her eyes with a smile.

  The lissome, kohl-eyelined man winces and quickly withdraws his hand from your spiral-glazed goblet drum, causing the simple melody to die down.

  At your table, you say in sirihish, pursing his lips poutfully:

  "Think I broke mah finger."

  At your table, the cherubic, silvery-eyed teen says in sirihish, smiling at you:

  "Ah, get off it. Ya did not. That weren't bad at all."

  At your table, the cherubic, silvery-eyed teen says in sirihish, sighing with mock arrogance:

  "You're certainly no 'Teafae', but... Good enough."

  The lissome, kohl-eyelined man chuckles and tosses your spiral-glazed goblet drum a short distance into the air before catching it with his other hand.

  At your table, you say in sirihish:

  "Ah, but I can juggle, neh?"

  Light filters in through the doorway as the crimson sun rises.

  At your table, the cherubic, silvery-eyed teen says in sirihish, with a grin:

  "Aye? I've got a torch. Maybe you got another. We could light'm and you could show."

  At your table, you say in sirihish:

  "Thank ya for tha kind words, miss."

  At your table, the cherubic, silvery-eyed teen says in sirihish, looking north for a moment:

  "Okay."

  At your table, you say in sirihish:

  "Mayhaps... another time."

  You are carrying:

  a spiral-glazed goblet drum

  The lissome, kohl-eyelined man turns on his stool to perform a deep bow towards the room, supporting the move with a wide sweep of one arm.

  You say, in sirihish:

  "Show is over."

  At your table, the cherubic, silvery-eyed teen says in sirihish, leaning forward some:

  "Are you gonna write a song 'bout the war, then? D'you do that for 'sid?"

  The lissome, kohl-eyelined man's eyes have a roguish sparkle to them as he glances sidelong to the cherubic, silvery-eyed...

  
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