Shadowdancer
First Post
Thanks, Kai Lord, for doing this.
Here is my character, humbly submitted for consideration:
Arianna Flamelocks
Class: Bard
Gender and race: Female Half-Elf
Height and weight: 5'9", 135 lbs.
Eyes and hair: Green, red
Age: 38
Arianna Flamelocks is an entertainer of growing repute. She is outgoing, flirtatious, and very seductive. She is sensual, and a bit of a hedonist, with "a guy in every village." At times she can be very bawdy; at others, very serious.
She travels from place to place in search of her father, whom she has never met. He is an elven bard named Mateous Ravensclaw. He met Arianna’s mother several decades ago while performing in a far-off town. After a brief dalliance, Mateous left and never returned. Arianna’s mother used to tell her daughter stories about Mateous, his deft lute playing, and his wonderful singing voice when she was growing up. Arianna aspired to become a bard, just like her father. When her mother died from influenza six years ago, Arianna decided to set out to find her father, making a living as a bard along the way. In addition to singing, acting, and playing instruments, Arianna is a gifted dancer, juggler, acrobat, and knife–thrower.
Here is a description of Arianna from a story I wrote:
The Stone Pony was crowded for a midweek night, thought Arianna Flamelocks as she stepped upon the small wooden stage in one corner of the smoky, dimly–lit tavern. Most of the customers — stevedores and teamsters, by the look of them — were crowded around the bar, but many of the tables were occupied as well. A raucous cacophony of boisterous voices assaulted Arianna’s ears while a malodorous mixture of burning codfish oil, spilled ale, sweat, and urine assailed her nostrils. “How am I ever to compete with all this noise?” she thought. “Or keep my supper down — what is that accursed smell? It’s enough to ruin a maggot’s appetite.”
As she seated herself upon a tall wooden stool, Arianna surveyed the crowd before her. Gustin Longpike, the tavern’s massive owner, was busy behind the oaken plank bar. Arianna knew that Gertrude, Gustin’s plump wife, was in the kitchen sweating over a cauldron of stew and baking trencher loaves in the brick oven. The couple’s two daughters, Mae and Ginny, were threading their way through the unwashed masses, bustling from table to bar and kitchen, and back again, dodging the groping hands of drunken dockworkers. Hardly anyone in the place noticed the young bard on the stage preparing to perform. There was one man — an attractive elf with long black hair and violet eyes sitting by himself at a small table along one wall — who made eye contact when she looked his way, but his gaze quickly returned to the tavern door as he sipped from a pewter mug.
“He’s a handsome one,” Arianna thought, a wry smile dancing across her lips, a smile reflected by her twinkling emerald eyes. “How’d he ever wander into this jakes pit? Not that I’d mind. I would be very happy waking up tomorrow morning to see that face in bed beside me. He seems to be waiting for someone. I hope it’s not his sweetheart. Of course, no respectable man would bring his beloved to a place like this. But then, since he is in this place, who’s to say he’s respectable?”
Possessing long, muscular legs and a lithe, dancer’s body, Arianna usually attracted her share of men’s attention. Her red hair was cut short, spikey on top. Tonight her green eyes and milky skin were set off by her all–black outfit: a strapless leather bustier, tight–fitting leggings, and soft leather boots cut to come just above the knee. Hanging from each slightly–pointed ear — an inheritance from her elven sire — was a silver chain ending in a small emerald. Dangling from the thin, black leather choker around her neck was a teardrop–cut emerald. Fingerless black silk opera gloves stretched the length of her arms. While her swordbelt and rapier hung in a kitchen alcove along with her hooded cloak, a dagger with a hilt of malachite scales was tucked away in the top of her right boot, in case the audience got too rowdy.
Arianna pulled her masterwork lute, an instrument she had lovingly crafted with her own hands, into her lap and began to tune it, her long, dexterous fingers caressing the catgut strings, ivory frets, and smooth mahogany pegs. After she finished, she ran her right hand through her hair and considered her opening number. Then another smile crept across her face as she decided how she would catch the crowd’s attention. She started to pluck and strum the lute’s strings. Four glowing spheres of light swept out through the tavern, barely missing the heads of several patrons. After reaching the back of the room, the spheres reversed course and arced back to the stage, drawing the attention of almost everyone in the room to Arianna. She began to sing in a strong, confident contralto that pierced the tavern’s quickly diminishing din.
“I’m a traveling troubadour,
Selling my songs from door to door,
As I journey down the long, dusty roads.
“I sing in the bars,
And sleep beneath the stars,
And please the ostlers when their wives are asleep.”
This last line drew a menagerie of catcalls and wolf whistles from the crowd. Arianna just smiled wickedly, gave them a wink and continued with the song.
“In exchange for food,
I give them my youth,
And a song to remember me by.
“I’ll sing you a song of other times and places,
And sights you may never see.
I’ll sing you a song of other times and places,
And things you may never,
That you may never hear of again.
“For the food I can’t pay,
And I really can’t stay
Because your wife will be waking up soon.
“But before I go,
I really must show
How much I appreciate your kindness.
“So I’ll make love to you,
And when we’re through,
You can lay back and I’ll sing you a song.
“I’ll sing you a song of other times and places,
And sights you may never see.
I’ll sing you a song of other times and places,
And things you may never,
That you may never hear of again.”
Arianna began the instrumental bridge, deftly plucking the lute’s strings with the fingers of her right hand as those on the left slid up and down the neck of the instrument. She chanced a quick look at the audience; everyone seemed to be watching her intently, many nodding along to the melody. Pleased, she resumed singing.
“But before I can go,
I really must show
How much I appreciate all you’ve done.
“And for the food I will pay
If you’ll only come lay,
If you’ll come lay down with me.
“And I’ll make love to you,
And when we’re through
I’ll sing you a traveling song.
“I’ll sing you a song of other times and places,
And sights you may never see.
I’ll sing you a song of other times and places,
And things you may never,
That you may never hear of again.”
As Arianna strummed the song’s last chords, the taproom erupted in applause and cheering. She smiled again and acknowledged the crowd with a small nod of her head. As the sound began to diminish, a booming voice came from behind the bar.
“Arianna, after my Gertie goes to bed I need to talk to you about settling your tab,” Gustin said. The people standing nearest to him began to laugh.
Arianna waited for the laughter to subside, then cocked her head to one side, smiled, and said, “Don’t worry, Gustin, we’ll settle up proper later tonight. I’m dying to know why they call you Longpike.”
The crowd exploded in hoots and hollers again as Gustin’s face turned bright red. Arianna gave the crowd another dazzling smile, winked again, then started to finger the opening chords of the haunting “Circle of Stones.”
Here is my character, humbly submitted for consideration:
Arianna Flamelocks
Class: Bard
Gender and race: Female Half-Elf
Height and weight: 5'9", 135 lbs.
Eyes and hair: Green, red
Age: 38
Arianna Flamelocks is an entertainer of growing repute. She is outgoing, flirtatious, and very seductive. She is sensual, and a bit of a hedonist, with "a guy in every village." At times she can be very bawdy; at others, very serious.
She travels from place to place in search of her father, whom she has never met. He is an elven bard named Mateous Ravensclaw. He met Arianna’s mother several decades ago while performing in a far-off town. After a brief dalliance, Mateous left and never returned. Arianna’s mother used to tell her daughter stories about Mateous, his deft lute playing, and his wonderful singing voice when she was growing up. Arianna aspired to become a bard, just like her father. When her mother died from influenza six years ago, Arianna decided to set out to find her father, making a living as a bard along the way. In addition to singing, acting, and playing instruments, Arianna is a gifted dancer, juggler, acrobat, and knife–thrower.
Here is a description of Arianna from a story I wrote:
The Stone Pony was crowded for a midweek night, thought Arianna Flamelocks as she stepped upon the small wooden stage in one corner of the smoky, dimly–lit tavern. Most of the customers — stevedores and teamsters, by the look of them — were crowded around the bar, but many of the tables were occupied as well. A raucous cacophony of boisterous voices assaulted Arianna’s ears while a malodorous mixture of burning codfish oil, spilled ale, sweat, and urine assailed her nostrils. “How am I ever to compete with all this noise?” she thought. “Or keep my supper down — what is that accursed smell? It’s enough to ruin a maggot’s appetite.”
As she seated herself upon a tall wooden stool, Arianna surveyed the crowd before her. Gustin Longpike, the tavern’s massive owner, was busy behind the oaken plank bar. Arianna knew that Gertrude, Gustin’s plump wife, was in the kitchen sweating over a cauldron of stew and baking trencher loaves in the brick oven. The couple’s two daughters, Mae and Ginny, were threading their way through the unwashed masses, bustling from table to bar and kitchen, and back again, dodging the groping hands of drunken dockworkers. Hardly anyone in the place noticed the young bard on the stage preparing to perform. There was one man — an attractive elf with long black hair and violet eyes sitting by himself at a small table along one wall — who made eye contact when she looked his way, but his gaze quickly returned to the tavern door as he sipped from a pewter mug.
“He’s a handsome one,” Arianna thought, a wry smile dancing across her lips, a smile reflected by her twinkling emerald eyes. “How’d he ever wander into this jakes pit? Not that I’d mind. I would be very happy waking up tomorrow morning to see that face in bed beside me. He seems to be waiting for someone. I hope it’s not his sweetheart. Of course, no respectable man would bring his beloved to a place like this. But then, since he is in this place, who’s to say he’s respectable?”
Possessing long, muscular legs and a lithe, dancer’s body, Arianna usually attracted her share of men’s attention. Her red hair was cut short, spikey on top. Tonight her green eyes and milky skin were set off by her all–black outfit: a strapless leather bustier, tight–fitting leggings, and soft leather boots cut to come just above the knee. Hanging from each slightly–pointed ear — an inheritance from her elven sire — was a silver chain ending in a small emerald. Dangling from the thin, black leather choker around her neck was a teardrop–cut emerald. Fingerless black silk opera gloves stretched the length of her arms. While her swordbelt and rapier hung in a kitchen alcove along with her hooded cloak, a dagger with a hilt of malachite scales was tucked away in the top of her right boot, in case the audience got too rowdy.
Arianna pulled her masterwork lute, an instrument she had lovingly crafted with her own hands, into her lap and began to tune it, her long, dexterous fingers caressing the catgut strings, ivory frets, and smooth mahogany pegs. After she finished, she ran her right hand through her hair and considered her opening number. Then another smile crept across her face as she decided how she would catch the crowd’s attention. She started to pluck and strum the lute’s strings. Four glowing spheres of light swept out through the tavern, barely missing the heads of several patrons. After reaching the back of the room, the spheres reversed course and arced back to the stage, drawing the attention of almost everyone in the room to Arianna. She began to sing in a strong, confident contralto that pierced the tavern’s quickly diminishing din.
“I’m a traveling troubadour,
Selling my songs from door to door,
As I journey down the long, dusty roads.
“I sing in the bars,
And sleep beneath the stars,
And please the ostlers when their wives are asleep.”
This last line drew a menagerie of catcalls and wolf whistles from the crowd. Arianna just smiled wickedly, gave them a wink and continued with the song.
“In exchange for food,
I give them my youth,
And a song to remember me by.
“I’ll sing you a song of other times and places,
And sights you may never see.
I’ll sing you a song of other times and places,
And things you may never,
That you may never hear of again.
“For the food I can’t pay,
And I really can’t stay
Because your wife will be waking up soon.
“But before I go,
I really must show
How much I appreciate your kindness.
“So I’ll make love to you,
And when we’re through,
You can lay back and I’ll sing you a song.
“I’ll sing you a song of other times and places,
And sights you may never see.
I’ll sing you a song of other times and places,
And things you may never,
That you may never hear of again.”
Arianna began the instrumental bridge, deftly plucking the lute’s strings with the fingers of her right hand as those on the left slid up and down the neck of the instrument. She chanced a quick look at the audience; everyone seemed to be watching her intently, many nodding along to the melody. Pleased, she resumed singing.
“But before I can go,
I really must show
How much I appreciate all you’ve done.
“And for the food I will pay
If you’ll only come lay,
If you’ll come lay down with me.
“And I’ll make love to you,
And when we’re through
I’ll sing you a traveling song.
“I’ll sing you a song of other times and places,
And sights you may never see.
I’ll sing you a song of other times and places,
And things you may never,
That you may never hear of again.”
As Arianna strummed the song’s last chords, the taproom erupted in applause and cheering. She smiled again and acknowledged the crowd with a small nod of her head. As the sound began to diminish, a booming voice came from behind the bar.
“Arianna, after my Gertie goes to bed I need to talk to you about settling your tab,” Gustin said. The people standing nearest to him began to laugh.
Arianna waited for the laughter to subside, then cocked her head to one side, smiled, and said, “Don’t worry, Gustin, we’ll settle up proper later tonight. I’m dying to know why they call you Longpike.”
The crowd exploded in hoots and hollers again as Gustin’s face turned bright red. Arianna gave the crowd another dazzling smile, winked again, then started to finger the opening chords of the haunting “Circle of Stones.”
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