Emperor Valerian
First Post
Drag'n'fly typed up this update, including the song (one of her own creation). So kudos goes to her for her hard work! 
Viktalia Cheers Up the Town... or... An Incident at the Bar
What a crowd! Viktalia peeked her slim muzzle around the corner of the curtain. Every available seat was filled, and many more were standing, all facing toward the small stage that stood on one side of the bar. Her sharp eyes eventually picked out Siran, of course sitting at the bar. I think that man is always drinking...
She pulled her nose back and ran her hands over her dress quickly, smoothing wrinkles and brushing off lint. Tonight she had opted for a slim, dark number, in honor of the slaves the elves has taken and the dead they had left. She ran her fingers through her hair, checking for snarls, as her mind picked over her choices for the performance tonight. Something uplifting would be best, to prepare them for tomorrow. I think I’ll concentrate more on singing than dancing tonight, this stage isn’t really large enough for a full performance. Maybe ‘The King’s Hunt’, or I can tone down the gestures in ‘Night of the Walking Water’… A decision in mind, the Fomorteran drew a deep breath, thought of something beautiful to bring a smile to her face, and stepped out onto the stage.
Immediate wolf whistles and howls battered her, but she kept her smile and strode forward to the small chair that had been set up for her.
“Greeting everyone.” Her voice brought more whistles, mostly from a small table in a dark corner of the room. She waited until they had stopped, and then said again. “Greetings. My name is Viktalia Starwynd, as most of you already know. Tonight, I’d like to treat you to an evening of some of the finest music that you’ll ever hear about life, beauty, and...”
“Since us a war song, lass.” A voice in back cut her off.
“Yeah, something good about slicing up elves.” Another voice from the opposite side of the crowd added.
Cheers for this suggestion rang out, surprising Viktalia with their ferocity.
“Do you mean to tell me,” she asked slowly “That you would all rather have a tale of death and hatred rather than one of humor or love?” The resounding affirmatives set her ears back. She glanced at Siran, but the cleric gave her an empty look across the top of his glass, then a nod. She narrowed her eyes at him, then faced the crowd, squaring her shoulders.
“You poor fools…” her voice, though quiet, instantly silenced the bar. “I’ll sing you a song, all right, one to strike the very soul within you, and perhaps teach you about the consequences of war. You’ll get what you asked for, a song of death, of fighting, and perhaps, if you’re lucky, you’ll get a whole lot more too.”
Siran stared at her in disbelief. Never before had he seen a bard so unwilling to play a song of choice for a crowd. She must be really angry, to insult the entire town like this. The town didn’t seem to care, however, as cheers greeted her announcement.
They want a war song... makes sense, considering they’ve been at war for several weeks already, the cleric thought, downing the drink before him and ordering yet another.
The next minute, Viktalia began to hum, a slow haunting tune that sent the familiar chill up his spine. However, when she began to sing, the sadness in her voice made her almost sound like she was crying.
The Ballad of Red
All you mighty warriors
Come listen, young and old
Rest now as I tell a tale
From many years ago
When the stars were young
And the world was fresh and green
There was a young Chirop boy
Whose tragedy I will sing
He was tall and strong
With a coat of deepest red
Red as fire, red as youth
And his name was Red
Like all of his race
Creation filled his life
In his forge he worked so hard
Shaping metal day and night
One day a traveler came to town
White Kaelia, with eyes of blue
All of the boys strove for her favor
And Red was smitten too
He hurried to his forge
And worked ‘til the morning broke
Then finding Kaelia, he knelt
And offered her a metal rose
Its leaves were finest silver
And in the light they shone
Kaelia stroked the petals
Red as passion, red as love
Then the beauty smiled
And offered Red her hand
That day they spoke of all the things
That lovers understand
But, alas, for these two younglings
Bliss was not obtained
On the day of their wedding
Tragedy rode the waves
The hatred of human and elf
Goes back to the start of time
Fomorterans don’t join the fights
But still we lose our lives
As the wedding graced the hills
Two ships crashed upon the sand
The battle that started on the sea
Continued on the land
Sword crossed sword, and arrows flew
Cries split the splendor of the day
The battle flowed up to the hill
The forest filled with flames
Red and his bride tried to run
But arrows rent the air
Kaelia shuddered as she fell
Flowers tumbling from her hair
She lay quite still and peaceful
White fur marred by streaks of red
And all around lay roses
Red as blood, red as death
The battle slowly faded
The survivors limped away
And as Red buried his wife
He swore his vengeance to the waves
Now the flames of his forge
Burned with the hatred in his soul
After his creations formed
Only his tears made the metal cold
One year after that fateful day
A black ship full of men
Was sneaking up an elven coast
To rape and pillage once again
The first mate heard it first
As he stood upon the bow
A dull thump and scrap of steel
Coming from the prow
Hand on sword, investigating
Was the last thing he ever did
A flash of metal, and spray of blood
Across the deck bounced his head
The seamen all came running
Only to halt with dread and tremble
At the figure sheathed in dripping blades
At the wing spines wrapped in metal
It flashed them out with deadly aim
The ship’s wood stained with red
Red as sorrow, red as anger
And the figure’s name was Red
Up and down the coasts he reined
Dealing justice by his creed
But no matter how much he killed
He couldn’t satisfy his need
How can anger and violence
Replace love, so pure, so brief
When you feel there is nothing left
But to gorge on revenge and grief
Finally, to quell the bloodshed
And purge the terror from their minds
Elf and human banded together
For the first ever time
They hunted the metal-winged warrior
Across oceans and through the lands
Till finally they cornered him
Upon his marriage hill he made his stand
As twilight fell, they slew him
And left his body rotting by the sea
Ground stained bright as scarlet coat
Empty eyes and shattered wings
But still on moonless nights, they say
A pale light graces the beach
Walking beside a guardian
Red as pleasure, red as peace
So now you’ve heard my tale
So very sad, so very true
Hatred only breeds more hate
While death stalks after you
Instead of all this fighting
Harken to the Chirop way
Create true love and laughter
Walk in happiness all your days
Viktalia finished on a ringing note that blasted the bar. Silence fell thick over the unmoving crowd. Then, slowly, two men near the door turned quietly and left, their faces thoughtful. A couple more started mumbling softly to each other, then a few more, until a soft, quiet murmur filled a room used to shouts and cheers.
But it was from the dark table in the corner that the loudest voices came.
“Bravo! Bravo! Never in all my YEARS have I heard such an exquisite voice. And what a body…”
Siran could almost hear Viktalia’s groan as two men and a halfling, all clearly drunk, stumbled up to the stage. Rolling his own eyes, he nevertheless stood up and began to edge forward, just in case the bard couldn’t handle her admirers. Drunkards... bah... The humans looked like everyday workers... rough wool clothes, slight beards. Dockworkers probably, Siran thought. The halfling, however, was clad in outrageously expensive clothes, jewelry dripping from his ears and fingers. Siran immediately realized what his profession was, as well, and edged closer to the bar. Just in case he doesn’t take to her too kindly...
“Now then, miss Starwwine,” the halfling slurred, stumbling up towards her.
“That’s Starwynd,” the Chirop corrected him, and stood up from her chair.
“Yes yes, as I was saying,” the halfling waved his hands dismissively. “A women of your caliber should not be sailing around the seas, getting into all sorts of mischief! Hows about I offer you a place in my one of a kind, top of the line, House of Repute.” The halfling grinned, and one of the drunk men chuckled at the clever name.
“A House of Ill Repute!” Siran couldn’t tell if Viktalia sounded more shocked or amused at the suggestion.
“No no no,” the Halfling quickly corrected, “None of mywomen are ill.” More dark chuckles from the two cronies. “Now then, I am prepared to offer you quite a handsome deal of course, 10% of the profits, and a chance to perform for the customers every evening….”
“I am sorry, sir,” Viktalia gave a small bow, backing away slightly as she did so. “But I must refuse. You see, I love my life, and I have no wish to trade it in to be a mere…pleasure-woman. Although your House does sound very nice.” She added politely, making Siran confused. Why is she being so nice and courteous... hell... I’dve slapped him across the face! Maybe she doesn’t think she wants to tangle with the cronies... The cleric edged closer and closer...
“Now look here, lady.” The halfling’s voice grew cold. “I don’t look too kindly on women saying no to me. So I’m only going to make my offer one more time.”
In his mind’s eye, Siran could quickly see the situation going sour, and began to hurry over the last few feet towards the stage. I’m sure Viktalia could handle herself if it was just the halfling, but if those two lumps of muscle he has with him attack her at the same time… He was surprised to see no look of worry on the Chirop’s face as he drew close.
“And one more time, sir, my answer is no.” Viktalia smiled sweetly as she made her denial quite firm.
Oh boy... here we go... the cleric thought, as he saw the two humans tense up, ready to lunge.
“Well, missy, I tried to be nice…” The halfling looked at the two men, and jerked his arm toward the bard. As they stepped forward, Viktalia stepped backward, spread her arms, and barked a single sharp note at the man in front. Instantly, the man wobbled widely, even for a drunk, and as he blinked and tried to take a step forward, his arm reaching for her, he collapsed to the ground with a loud crash.
Siran took this opportunity to charge the second man from behind, and bring his chain-wrapped fist down onto the man’s skull. He collapsed without a sound.
“Punk...” the cleric growled.
The halfling looked around at his fallen men with a cry of dismay, then glared at Viktalia and leapt onto the stage, chasing after her with a bellow, his jewel bedecked hands outstretched, grasping, clawing...
Viktalia flapped her wings once and jumped several feet backward. As she landed she again gave that short barking note, and the halfling fell onto his face.
By this point, the rest of the bar had finally overcome its stunned shock at the turn of events, and the bartender and another man had jumped up after the halfling, grabbing the prone little man. As they apologized profusely to Viktalia, they grabbed his armpits and hauled him to his feet. The halfling looked the far wrong side of drunk, with glazed eyes and a rapidly bruising lump above his right eye. Both men began to haul him off, when Viktalia stepped forward.
“Don’t hurt him.” She said, steel behind her voice, but mirth dancing in her eyes as she gave a mischievous grin. “I have something better that will set him right. Bring him backstage.” She winked at Siran as she followed the trio back behind the curtain.
What is she going to do to that ugly little thing? Siran wondered. The two humans were beginning to stir, so with more than a little glee Siran loomed over them, openly displaying his chain-wrapped fist.
“Lay quietly, like good little boys,” he hissed. It was hard not to laugh when the two drunks lowered their heads back to the ground and made small “eep” noises.
Seconds later, there was a loud cry of dismay from the back, shortly followed by a roar of laughter. A short, lace-covered figure tumbled back through the curtain and landed spread-legged on the stage, angrily swiping at the smears of rouge across his face.
High-pitched laughter from behind him caused Siran to turn to see a small group of young women who had just entered the bar, pointing at laughing with glee at the halfling in the dress and makeup. Their rakish, gaudy clothing left no doubt as to what their profession was.
“That’s our employer! Ha! I’ll never work for such a ridiculous man again!” one of the women snorted. The others laughed their assent, as Siran and the others in the bar joined in, and a few pieces of half-eaten food found themselves tossed at him.
The halfling on stage covered his red-smeared face with his hands. “I’m ruined!” he cried.
Viktalia emerged from backstage, laughing as well, but as she turned, her eyes fully caught Siran’s, and he knew that the bard was thanking him. Siran merely looked down at the men at his feet, grabbed his drink, and raised it in salute in return.
Note to self, do not to mess with Viktalia, he thought to himself, before looking back at the women at the bar’s doorway, picking out the prettiest of the lot. Now... I think I should check and make sure that she is definitely not ill...
Viktalia Cheers Up the Town... or... An Incident at the Bar
What a crowd! Viktalia peeked her slim muzzle around the corner of the curtain. Every available seat was filled, and many more were standing, all facing toward the small stage that stood on one side of the bar. Her sharp eyes eventually picked out Siran, of course sitting at the bar. I think that man is always drinking...
She pulled her nose back and ran her hands over her dress quickly, smoothing wrinkles and brushing off lint. Tonight she had opted for a slim, dark number, in honor of the slaves the elves has taken and the dead they had left. She ran her fingers through her hair, checking for snarls, as her mind picked over her choices for the performance tonight. Something uplifting would be best, to prepare them for tomorrow. I think I’ll concentrate more on singing than dancing tonight, this stage isn’t really large enough for a full performance. Maybe ‘The King’s Hunt’, or I can tone down the gestures in ‘Night of the Walking Water’… A decision in mind, the Fomorteran drew a deep breath, thought of something beautiful to bring a smile to her face, and stepped out onto the stage.
Immediate wolf whistles and howls battered her, but she kept her smile and strode forward to the small chair that had been set up for her.
“Greeting everyone.” Her voice brought more whistles, mostly from a small table in a dark corner of the room. She waited until they had stopped, and then said again. “Greetings. My name is Viktalia Starwynd, as most of you already know. Tonight, I’d like to treat you to an evening of some of the finest music that you’ll ever hear about life, beauty, and...”
“Since us a war song, lass.” A voice in back cut her off.
“Yeah, something good about slicing up elves.” Another voice from the opposite side of the crowd added.
Cheers for this suggestion rang out, surprising Viktalia with their ferocity.
“Do you mean to tell me,” she asked slowly “That you would all rather have a tale of death and hatred rather than one of humor or love?” The resounding affirmatives set her ears back. She glanced at Siran, but the cleric gave her an empty look across the top of his glass, then a nod. She narrowed her eyes at him, then faced the crowd, squaring her shoulders.
“You poor fools…” her voice, though quiet, instantly silenced the bar. “I’ll sing you a song, all right, one to strike the very soul within you, and perhaps teach you about the consequences of war. You’ll get what you asked for, a song of death, of fighting, and perhaps, if you’re lucky, you’ll get a whole lot more too.”
Siran stared at her in disbelief. Never before had he seen a bard so unwilling to play a song of choice for a crowd. She must be really angry, to insult the entire town like this. The town didn’t seem to care, however, as cheers greeted her announcement.
They want a war song... makes sense, considering they’ve been at war for several weeks already, the cleric thought, downing the drink before him and ordering yet another.
The next minute, Viktalia began to hum, a slow haunting tune that sent the familiar chill up his spine. However, when she began to sing, the sadness in her voice made her almost sound like she was crying.
The Ballad of Red
All you mighty warriors
Come listen, young and old
Rest now as I tell a tale
From many years ago
When the stars were young
And the world was fresh and green
There was a young Chirop boy
Whose tragedy I will sing
He was tall and strong
With a coat of deepest red
Red as fire, red as youth
And his name was Red
Like all of his race
Creation filled his life
In his forge he worked so hard
Shaping metal day and night
One day a traveler came to town
White Kaelia, with eyes of blue
All of the boys strove for her favor
And Red was smitten too
He hurried to his forge
And worked ‘til the morning broke
Then finding Kaelia, he knelt
And offered her a metal rose
Its leaves were finest silver
And in the light they shone
Kaelia stroked the petals
Red as passion, red as love
Then the beauty smiled
And offered Red her hand
That day they spoke of all the things
That lovers understand
But, alas, for these two younglings
Bliss was not obtained
On the day of their wedding
Tragedy rode the waves
The hatred of human and elf
Goes back to the start of time
Fomorterans don’t join the fights
But still we lose our lives
As the wedding graced the hills
Two ships crashed upon the sand
The battle that started on the sea
Continued on the land
Sword crossed sword, and arrows flew
Cries split the splendor of the day
The battle flowed up to the hill
The forest filled with flames
Red and his bride tried to run
But arrows rent the air
Kaelia shuddered as she fell
Flowers tumbling from her hair
She lay quite still and peaceful
White fur marred by streaks of red
And all around lay roses
Red as blood, red as death
The battle slowly faded
The survivors limped away
And as Red buried his wife
He swore his vengeance to the waves
Now the flames of his forge
Burned with the hatred in his soul
After his creations formed
Only his tears made the metal cold
One year after that fateful day
A black ship full of men
Was sneaking up an elven coast
To rape and pillage once again
The first mate heard it first
As he stood upon the bow
A dull thump and scrap of steel
Coming from the prow
Hand on sword, investigating
Was the last thing he ever did
A flash of metal, and spray of blood
Across the deck bounced his head
The seamen all came running
Only to halt with dread and tremble
At the figure sheathed in dripping blades
At the wing spines wrapped in metal
It flashed them out with deadly aim
The ship’s wood stained with red
Red as sorrow, red as anger
And the figure’s name was Red
Up and down the coasts he reined
Dealing justice by his creed
But no matter how much he killed
He couldn’t satisfy his need
How can anger and violence
Replace love, so pure, so brief
When you feel there is nothing left
But to gorge on revenge and grief
Finally, to quell the bloodshed
And purge the terror from their minds
Elf and human banded together
For the first ever time
They hunted the metal-winged warrior
Across oceans and through the lands
Till finally they cornered him
Upon his marriage hill he made his stand
As twilight fell, they slew him
And left his body rotting by the sea
Ground stained bright as scarlet coat
Empty eyes and shattered wings
But still on moonless nights, they say
A pale light graces the beach
Walking beside a guardian
Red as pleasure, red as peace
So now you’ve heard my tale
So very sad, so very true
Hatred only breeds more hate
While death stalks after you
Instead of all this fighting
Harken to the Chirop way
Create true love and laughter
Walk in happiness all your days
Viktalia finished on a ringing note that blasted the bar. Silence fell thick over the unmoving crowd. Then, slowly, two men near the door turned quietly and left, their faces thoughtful. A couple more started mumbling softly to each other, then a few more, until a soft, quiet murmur filled a room used to shouts and cheers.
But it was from the dark table in the corner that the loudest voices came.
“Bravo! Bravo! Never in all my YEARS have I heard such an exquisite voice. And what a body…”
Siran could almost hear Viktalia’s groan as two men and a halfling, all clearly drunk, stumbled up to the stage. Rolling his own eyes, he nevertheless stood up and began to edge forward, just in case the bard couldn’t handle her admirers. Drunkards... bah... The humans looked like everyday workers... rough wool clothes, slight beards. Dockworkers probably, Siran thought. The halfling, however, was clad in outrageously expensive clothes, jewelry dripping from his ears and fingers. Siran immediately realized what his profession was, as well, and edged closer to the bar. Just in case he doesn’t take to her too kindly...
“Now then, miss Starwwine,” the halfling slurred, stumbling up towards her.
“That’s Starwynd,” the Chirop corrected him, and stood up from her chair.
“Yes yes, as I was saying,” the halfling waved his hands dismissively. “A women of your caliber should not be sailing around the seas, getting into all sorts of mischief! Hows about I offer you a place in my one of a kind, top of the line, House of Repute.” The halfling grinned, and one of the drunk men chuckled at the clever name.
“A House of Ill Repute!” Siran couldn’t tell if Viktalia sounded more shocked or amused at the suggestion.
“No no no,” the Halfling quickly corrected, “None of mywomen are ill.” More dark chuckles from the two cronies. “Now then, I am prepared to offer you quite a handsome deal of course, 10% of the profits, and a chance to perform for the customers every evening….”
“I am sorry, sir,” Viktalia gave a small bow, backing away slightly as she did so. “But I must refuse. You see, I love my life, and I have no wish to trade it in to be a mere…pleasure-woman. Although your House does sound very nice.” She added politely, making Siran confused. Why is she being so nice and courteous... hell... I’dve slapped him across the face! Maybe she doesn’t think she wants to tangle with the cronies... The cleric edged closer and closer...
“Now look here, lady.” The halfling’s voice grew cold. “I don’t look too kindly on women saying no to me. So I’m only going to make my offer one more time.”
In his mind’s eye, Siran could quickly see the situation going sour, and began to hurry over the last few feet towards the stage. I’m sure Viktalia could handle herself if it was just the halfling, but if those two lumps of muscle he has with him attack her at the same time… He was surprised to see no look of worry on the Chirop’s face as he drew close.
“And one more time, sir, my answer is no.” Viktalia smiled sweetly as she made her denial quite firm.
Oh boy... here we go... the cleric thought, as he saw the two humans tense up, ready to lunge.
“Well, missy, I tried to be nice…” The halfling looked at the two men, and jerked his arm toward the bard. As they stepped forward, Viktalia stepped backward, spread her arms, and barked a single sharp note at the man in front. Instantly, the man wobbled widely, even for a drunk, and as he blinked and tried to take a step forward, his arm reaching for her, he collapsed to the ground with a loud crash.
Siran took this opportunity to charge the second man from behind, and bring his chain-wrapped fist down onto the man’s skull. He collapsed without a sound.
“Punk...” the cleric growled.
The halfling looked around at his fallen men with a cry of dismay, then glared at Viktalia and leapt onto the stage, chasing after her with a bellow, his jewel bedecked hands outstretched, grasping, clawing...
Viktalia flapped her wings once and jumped several feet backward. As she landed she again gave that short barking note, and the halfling fell onto his face.
By this point, the rest of the bar had finally overcome its stunned shock at the turn of events, and the bartender and another man had jumped up after the halfling, grabbing the prone little man. As they apologized profusely to Viktalia, they grabbed his armpits and hauled him to his feet. The halfling looked the far wrong side of drunk, with glazed eyes and a rapidly bruising lump above his right eye. Both men began to haul him off, when Viktalia stepped forward.
“Don’t hurt him.” She said, steel behind her voice, but mirth dancing in her eyes as she gave a mischievous grin. “I have something better that will set him right. Bring him backstage.” She winked at Siran as she followed the trio back behind the curtain.
What is she going to do to that ugly little thing? Siran wondered. The two humans were beginning to stir, so with more than a little glee Siran loomed over them, openly displaying his chain-wrapped fist.
“Lay quietly, like good little boys,” he hissed. It was hard not to laugh when the two drunks lowered their heads back to the ground and made small “eep” noises.
Seconds later, there was a loud cry of dismay from the back, shortly followed by a roar of laughter. A short, lace-covered figure tumbled back through the curtain and landed spread-legged on the stage, angrily swiping at the smears of rouge across his face.
High-pitched laughter from behind him caused Siran to turn to see a small group of young women who had just entered the bar, pointing at laughing with glee at the halfling in the dress and makeup. Their rakish, gaudy clothing left no doubt as to what their profession was.
“That’s our employer! Ha! I’ll never work for such a ridiculous man again!” one of the women snorted. The others laughed their assent, as Siran and the others in the bar joined in, and a few pieces of half-eaten food found themselves tossed at him.
The halfling on stage covered his red-smeared face with his hands. “I’m ruined!” he cried.
Viktalia emerged from backstage, laughing as well, but as she turned, her eyes fully caught Siran’s, and he knew that the bard was thanking him. Siran merely looked down at the men at his feet, grabbed his drink, and raised it in salute in return.
Note to self, do not to mess with Viktalia, he thought to himself, before looking back at the women at the bar’s doorway, picking out the prettiest of the lot. Now... I think I should check and make sure that she is definitely not ill...
