Post by Trailfoot on Mar 7, 2009 18:56:14 GMT -8
"In the days before the rise of Tereus, in the days before Altrina, even before the Empire or humanity, there were troglodytes. They scurried about the cold, tainted lands of the North, doing the bidding of the priests of their dark divinity Proteus. They called him the Great Serpent and many, many other names, and... you know what? I am not in the mood to speak of troglodytes. They smell bad and are outright unpleasant. What should I talk about instead?"
The Azure Minstrel - that was the only name he had used - rested his feet on the table before him. His name's origin was obvious - while the man himself was a very normal coloring, his skin tone healthy and quite common in the northern regions of the Empire, every piece of clothing he wore was a deep royal blue. His long coat, his well-made but somewhat-worn buttoned shirt, his breeches, even the leather boots on his feet. His hat was wide-brimmed, a lighter shade - likely bleached by the sun - with a single, long, white feather coming from it. He was tall, over six feet, and built rather powerfully, yet his smile is cheerful enough that it is difficult to imagine him being at all intimidating. An exceptionally well-made lyre rests next to him, and he is assembling a much less impressive flute.
Three children were gathered around him, and one spoke. "I want to hear about a princess!"
The second called out, "I want to hear about an elf!"
And the third, "I want to hear about Altrina!"
The Minstrel leaned back a bit, considering. "I'm actually not certain Altrina has ever met a princess, though she did once know an elf. There was a time, you know, when the Ascendant of Hope walked the land - I hear that she even stayed in this very inn..." He is about to continue when one of the children reaches for his lyre. "Play this! We don't want stories! We want songs!"
The Minstrel moves quickly, taking the lyre and moving it from the child's reach. "I will play on the flute, or I will sing, but I will not play the lyre."
The little gril asks, "Why not?"
The Minstrel smiles a little. "Because I no more know how to play the lyre than I know how to become a dragon and fly away."
One of the boys looks to him, incredulously. "If you don't know how to play it, why do you have it?"
For once, the Minstrel's expression is somber. "Some day, I will give this lyre to someone. The three of you should pray it is not you."
The Azure Minstrel - that was the only name he had used - rested his feet on the table before him. His name's origin was obvious - while the man himself was a very normal coloring, his skin tone healthy and quite common in the northern regions of the Empire, every piece of clothing he wore was a deep royal blue. His long coat, his well-made but somewhat-worn buttoned shirt, his breeches, even the leather boots on his feet. His hat was wide-brimmed, a lighter shade - likely bleached by the sun - with a single, long, white feather coming from it. He was tall, over six feet, and built rather powerfully, yet his smile is cheerful enough that it is difficult to imagine him being at all intimidating. An exceptionally well-made lyre rests next to him, and he is assembling a much less impressive flute.
Three children were gathered around him, and one spoke. "I want to hear about a princess!"
The second called out, "I want to hear about an elf!"
And the third, "I want to hear about Altrina!"
The Minstrel leaned back a bit, considering. "I'm actually not certain Altrina has ever met a princess, though she did once know an elf. There was a time, you know, when the Ascendant of Hope walked the land - I hear that she even stayed in this very inn..." He is about to continue when one of the children reaches for his lyre. "Play this! We don't want stories! We want songs!"
The Minstrel moves quickly, taking the lyre and moving it from the child's reach. "I will play on the flute, or I will sing, but I will not play the lyre."
The little gril asks, "Why not?"
The Minstrel smiles a little. "Because I no more know how to play the lyre than I know how to become a dragon and fly away."
One of the boys looks to him, incredulously. "If you don't know how to play it, why do you have it?"
For once, the Minstrel's expression is somber. "Some day, I will give this lyre to someone. The three of you should pray it is not you."