Bard's Tales

[ValentianNizzle]

A lonesome forest elf sat upon the top of the mountain in the Frozen Forest, dressed in his usual acidic green and blood red robes, he hummed to himself a quiet tune as he watched the sun go down slowly, his eyes fixated upon the crimson red detail the sun gave the heavens as it doth set, he settled himself in a bit more upon the snow - removing a bit of it so that he could sit on a more grassy patch.

He took a deep breath as he then pulled back the cowl he had worn as he felt it wouldn't be long before it would begin as it did every full moon. It was time to do what he knew he had to do. He had no name, or rather, no one knew it, he was widely known as The Chordless Bard - known mostly for having the ability to play on a bow as odd as it did sound, even more so odd that it had no string.

It was now time, enough thoughts had run through his mine in the past few hours he had sat there, he closed his eyes a moment, eyelids shut, he drew another very deep breath and opened them up, their usual hazelnut hue had dissappeared and fluent red and green mixed colour came into play within his iris as he began to spoke, seemingly not of his free will:

"It is asked, if life is less or more
Truthfully one doth not know
Untill tis time to be remembered
By the Bard whom play with severed chords

It is said, that when death makes a claim
Then it becomes forever yours
Silent doth it move
As a rogue through the wretched horde

It is answered, that you decide thyself
What art thou; less or more?
The answer he gave was simple
'I am true, I speak no lie and I am Nevermore'"

Without even realizing it, he had taken out his quill and jotted it down on a piece of worn parchment, the ink was of the purest black, strangely enough it wasn't his own, or rather, he never knew where it came from, it had merely been there ever since these strange happenings had begun every full moon.

It was in the middle of the night, how long had he sat here he asked himself before he got up and brushed himself off from all the snow that had settled down upon his worn robes. He shook his head slightly, sighed slowly and then picked up his bow from the ground and walked ever so slowly the path through the Blackstone Mountain Pass.

Where he was going? Didn't matter. He followed the roads, going from Inn to Inn, Tavern to Tavern - from one house of ill-repute to the next. Wherever people would allow him to write his tales and his strange foresights down, there he would rest and be merry, even if it were just for the moment.

// You are more than welcome to post here, if your post has any relevance to the topic starting post. People would have common knowledge of his Bardic tales, ventures and such. Once more, feel free to post here, anyone whom wants to join in may do so.