Musings of A Dhe'nar Bard     The Bard's Bio        A Q'hali's Work        Lessons of Sharath       Prose     Player's Blog

Chapter One:

Not long ago, wandering the city of Ta'Faendryl, a cloaked form gazed at the sights around him. His eyes soaked in the sights of black marble columns, golden domed rooftops and sunlight reflecting off the dark dinted glass windows of the shops and cafes that lined the thoroughfare. Scuffing a boot, he kicked a bit of black sand packed between the cobbles, which made the streets look like large honeycombs. Attempting to not look so much the part of an outsider, he sought out a clothier and purchases a simple outfit in the domestic style. Then, having been intrigued by the intricate black ironwork facade of a nearby inn called "The Black Chalice", he made arrangements with a rather portly barkeep for room and board.

A room simple enough for his needs, he quickly washed and changed; even whitening a lock of his hair with bleaching paste as was the local fashion. Gazing into the mirror, he was the image of a Faendryl. His stomach roiled at the thought, but he quickly eased himself, even managed to flash a toothy smile at his reflection.

Downstairs in the common room, the bard slipped a hand toward his throat, reassuring himself of the magic embedded there that allowed him to speak and understand the local language. Glancing around, he noted that a large copper framed slate already scheduled him to perform and flashed a winning smile at a nearby barmaid. Humming a few bars to an old Faendryl song, the grinning barkeep slapped the stranger on the shoulder and ushered him quickly to stage. The barmaid stared a moment at the stranger, her eyes wide - but then dropped her head in embarrassment as he winked in her direction. The bard watched her weave back through the tables to take another order, but then grinned to himself knowing instinctively that she had flushed in embarrassment.

That evening, he brought a platinum flute to his lips and began to play a slow melody. He meant to keep the tune a familiar one, but his thoughts wandered to the darker and exotic places of home. The allure of the bard's music and his rich tenor voice drew much curiosity from patrons, but the bard waved off his skill as that of a well traveled musician. In little time, the inn became rather crowded. Patrons were staying longer than usual, and leaving twice their normal tips. The lithe barmaid perspired delicately as she danced and weaved between tables as if entranced herself by the bard's melodies. The barkeep himself could barely keep up with business. His normally immaculate apron was now used more than his towel as he poured drinks as fast as he could manage.

On and on the bard played. Long into the night, the notes flew across the keys of his flute until at last, he could no longer ease the stiffness of his fingers. As silence then loomed over the common room, patrons slowly and begrudgingly began to take their leave.

Last to wander toward the door was a fine specimen of a woman, all softness and curves where they are wont to be. Her eyes lingered upon the bard for a time; a gaze that was all calculation and perhaps a hint of mischief. She stood then, her satin crimson gown rustled softly against her legs as she walked toward him. As his gaze finally met hers, those beautiful green eyes of her flashed in anger, but the look was quickly replaced with a coy smile as she brushed past him on the way to the door. Without even once turning around, a soft lilting whisper reached his sensitive ears.

"Come with me"

Now the bard was no fool when it came to such invitations. He took note of all detail, listened well and was convinced with little doubt that this woman was of a noble household. A grin flashed momentarily on his lips before he turned. Then, he simply shrugged his shoulders noncommittally and followed.

While no outward disposition betrayed his wariness at every step, the Faendryl woman seemed unconcerned for her own safety. She walked ahead of the bard as if to prove he was nothing to fear, nor did she turn around to prove it was merely a facade. The bard rankled at that, and it seemed that she felt his annoyance - for she giggled then; a tinkling laughter just loud enough for him to hear.

Upon arrival at her manor house, servants dressed in gold embroidered white livery descended upon the pair to cater to their needs. The bard was ushered to a guest room, much more exquisite than the inn. He gritted his teeth at the foolish displays of waste and opulence that assaulted his better senses. As he reached his room, he picked up an enameled mirror and stared a bit at his reflection. When he placed the mirror back down again, he noticed pieces had flaked off, revealing the scruff wood beneath. He thought for a moment on the metaphors of the image, but his attention became distracted by a knock on the door.

"Ei... err, Yes, what is it?"

A sultry voice greeted him from the other side of the door.

"May I come in?"

Listening at the door a moment, he quickly smoothed his clothing and seated himself comfortably in a plush velvet chair. Picking up a glass of wine the servants had left for him, it was surprisingly still cool. He took a swallow to moisten his throat and finally replied.

"Do come in.... After all, Lady Gylaume... this is your home."

Halfway through the door, the Lady paused.

"I see the bard is not without skill in diplomacy."

The acknowledgement of her name reassured the bard of his discovery and he inclined his head, allowing a small flicker of satisfaction cross his lips. But, before he could fully enjoy the upper hand, the Lady gracefully took a chair opposite him and leaned forward enough to show her endowments to good measure.

"So... tell me a story, bard."
"What brings a Dhe'nar to Ta'Faendryl?"

In a futile attempt to hide his surprise, he took a long sip of wine. The woman's smile betrayed her gloating, and after a moment she settled back into her chair; her crimson lacquered nails steepled gracefully in her lap.

Setting his wine glass back upon the table, the bard responded.

"You are a knowledgeable woman, indeed. Perhaps my disguise needs a little work, or surely my accent. I am hardly surprised that one wise in the world would be able to to recognize me for what I am."

Her smile faded.

"Yes, I am Dhe'nar. However my reasons for being here are my own."
"Although....."

He pauses.

"...if you should be so inclined to try and discover that mystery, perhaps the upper hand shall remain yours."

He grins, as if baiting her. Of course she takes it. She is after all a woman, and secrets such as they are - no woman can resist trying to deduce.

"I accept your challenge, bard. In fact, your secret is safe... for now. Perhaps though, you wonder why I brought you here."

"The question did cross my mind."

"Surely you can appreciate how exotic talent can... entertain guests, for more... "

She pauses a moment wondering if it matters to tell him what her goals are. She shrugs and continues.

"... political and social endeavors."

"..of course, Lady Gylaume. Somehow again, I am hardly surprised. The situation could be mutual, in fact. For I have a more.. scholarly interest in the inner workings of Faendryl motivations."

She laughs, her voice tinkling like glass in a fit of giggles - even kicking her feet under her gown like a small child.

"... a deal then."

She reaches forward and snatches his hand into hers, shaking it formally but still grinning.

"Tell me your true name, Dhe'nar. I hate to enter an agreement without knowing it."

"My stage name will do, for now. It is elven enough for your needs."

She sighs wistfully, clearly disappointed. To her surprise, he lifts her hand to his lips and kisses it.

"By your leave..."

"Of course, of course!"

She waves a hand dismissively.

"I'm certain you're famished; I haven't seen you eat since your arrival. I'll have one of my girls bring you..."

She glances back toward the window, now filling with sunlight from the new morning and blinks in surprise.

"...I'll have her bring you breakfast. As for myself, I shall retire to my chambers for the rest of the morning. Meet me this evening, four hours before Ronan. We have much to arrange."

He nods and stands as she slips out of her chair and adjusts the silks of her gown. She leaves, shutting the door behind her. Pausing, she turns back toward the door to his room and smiles coyly. All business, but to her - this Dhe'nar was going to be fun.

<CHAPTER TWO - ORIGINAL STORY>      OR             <CHAPTER TWO - REWRITE>