Hey, I've read a little bit of your campaign and I'm interested in filling one of your spots. I'm only including a vignette and background here, but I can work up a character sheet quickly if I get selected.
Blay Hendricks, human Bard
Vignette
[sblock]"The bartender dour
Serves ale that is sour
He wishes I'd take a stab
At paying my tab
But it is yet so early an hour!"
The bartender, who, it must be said, was getting increasingly dour at being paid with slightly offensive rhymes rather than hard currency, shot a murderous look at Blay, who replied by raising his newly filled tankard in salute. It was early in the afternoon and the inn was mostly empty. Honest laborers and tradesmen were still busy with the day's work, and other than a few old retirees escaping their wives, Blay had the place to himself.
"Fear not, valorous tender of bar! Mayhap I can please you with a calming serenade, or tale of legendary deeds? The Four Strokes of Amydala, perhaps? Or the Lay of the Thaneborn's Return?" Asked Blay idly, strumming his lute in preparation.
"Put yer damn instrument away, string-plucker. The sods who patronize this place may not have gotten wise yet, but I've heard every song you've got to sing thrice-over! I'll be expecting you to settle that tab tonight, so you better think of something good to squeeze a few coppers out of the dinner crowd here in a few hours!"
The alcohol slowed his comprehension, and where normally Blay could come back with a cutting reply or sly riposte instantly, he found himself caught flat-footed. Before he could save face with a witty if ill-conceived comeback about the bartender's heritage, a familiar voice stopped him.
"Blay Hendricks, heard you'd surfaced again. But then you never knew how to lay low and avoid the wrong kind of attention."
Blay spun around on his stool to face his interlocutor, and a happy bark of a laugh escaped his lips when recognition dawned.
"Bart Bartonson! BB! My dear childhood friend, please, sit down, have a drink on my tab. It's been too long BB, tell me, do you still detest that nickname?"
Bart's face flushed red, and he remained standing.
"Yes, Blay, I do. And no, Blay, I won't. I'm on duty."
"On duty? What kind of job involves looking up and chatting with old friends in fine drinking establishments across the realm? And here I thought I had it good singing bawdy songs to uneducated peasants for hand-outs. Please, tell me there is an opening!"
"Don't play games with me Blay, we've known each other too long. I've come to warn you. The Lord Justice just got done listening to that Duke you've been antagonizing lately. He's put his approval on a warrant for your arrest for sedition, and it crossed my desk this morning. The Gendarmerie will probably wait until tonight to raid this place and bring you in. The more public a sedition arrest the better, is their thinking."
"Sedition? Antagonize?! You mean those innocent little rhymes concerning his manhood and the purity of his daughter? I'll have you know I am a serious performer, sir, and that I would never rhyme a rhyme without taking the time to do thorough research most fine. Surely that isn't a crime?" Asked Blay, a look of perfect innocence on his face over the tankard he sipped from.
Bart chuckled despite himself and rolled his eyes. "Indeed, Blay, it is, and the consequences of your fun are going to be very severe if they catch you this time. The Duke's star has been waning in the Court for years now, and your infernal limericks on the lips of all the young nobility whenever his back is turned doesn't help him maintain credibility much either. He won't give you a chance to embarrass him further in a trial, indeed I doubt if you'll even make it to gaol after you are dragged out of here tonight."
Blay set down his mug and stood. He regarded his old friend for a moment, then reached out to embrace him. "BB, my dear old friend, your warning is well taken. I'll not be here when they come for me, and I'll not betray your confidence under the worst of tortures."
Bart's face had flushed red again, but he returned the hug and drew back. "You'd sing like a canary when they showed you the stamped warrant they'd use to give you paper-cuts with." Grinned Bart, "and I'd be worried if I didn't know you were so damnably clever and able to convince your torturer's you were put up to it all by the poor Duchess herself."
"Heh, not to far from the truth, on both counts!" Blay turned back to the bar and downed the last of the ale in his mug. Bart's tone become decidedly more worried.
"You need to get out of town, far out of town, for a while. Think of it as research for a new ballad, if you like. Maybe you could go to-"
"Say no more! Best if you not even speculate upon it, BB. I may be able to lie convincingly to the gendarmes, but you have that disturbing tendency towards complete honesty working against you if you get collared. I suppose that's what attracted my sister to you, though God's know she could have married into the Peerage if she wanted to with her looks and graces."
"I can't stay much longer, they'll ask questions... You needn't exile yourself, Blay. The Duke's favor is running out at Court, and he won't be in a position to harm you forever. Besides, you've two nieces that are very fond of you, and will continue to expect gifts on their birthdays."
"Ha! And they shall have them!" Blay turned to face his friend and brother-in-law once more, and clasped his hands with Bart's. "Don't worry, BB, I'm far too clever to not get out of whatever trouble I get into. Besides, I do need some new material. We'll see each other again, sooner rather than later, I hope."
Bart smiled and nodded, and departed with a small, informal bow.
That night, Blay was well on his to Greensfen way with a horse he had stolen from a distracted gendarme. He had heard there was trouble out that way, and lacking a better place to go to, decided it might just be the place for an experienced bard to pick up a few new tales, and perhaps make a few of his own. He kept himself amused by imagining the looks on the faces of the gendarmes who would have kicked down the door to his room at the inn by now, and read the limerick he had written with chalk on the wall before he left.
I apologize profusely for the mess
I've left under quite some duress
And the bill that I owe
With the barkeep below
I leave for our celebrated Duke to address![/sblock]
Background
[sblock]Blay is a bit of a scoundrel, but he always gets into trouble with the best of intentions. He probably would have become a petty thief like so many he grew up with if he hadn't realized a clever wit, an instrument, and a talent for showmanship paid better with much less risk. He is very companionable, though opinions differ strongly on whether his acerbic sense of humor and playfully cutting lyrics are all in good fun, or intolerably rude and insulting. To his credit, he knows when to back off. Usually.
Blay has arrived in Greensfen with almost no information about the malady that besets the place. Eager to take part in new experiences to work into his music, he seeks out the likeliest group of people with something interesting to offer.[/sblock]
Blay Hendricks, human Bard
Vignette
[sblock]"The bartender dour
Serves ale that is sour
He wishes I'd take a stab
At paying my tab
But it is yet so early an hour!"
The bartender, who, it must be said, was getting increasingly dour at being paid with slightly offensive rhymes rather than hard currency, shot a murderous look at Blay, who replied by raising his newly filled tankard in salute. It was early in the afternoon and the inn was mostly empty. Honest laborers and tradesmen were still busy with the day's work, and other than a few old retirees escaping their wives, Blay had the place to himself.
"Fear not, valorous tender of bar! Mayhap I can please you with a calming serenade, or tale of legendary deeds? The Four Strokes of Amydala, perhaps? Or the Lay of the Thaneborn's Return?" Asked Blay idly, strumming his lute in preparation.
"Put yer damn instrument away, string-plucker. The sods who patronize this place may not have gotten wise yet, but I've heard every song you've got to sing thrice-over! I'll be expecting you to settle that tab tonight, so you better think of something good to squeeze a few coppers out of the dinner crowd here in a few hours!"
The alcohol slowed his comprehension, and where normally Blay could come back with a cutting reply or sly riposte instantly, he found himself caught flat-footed. Before he could save face with a witty if ill-conceived comeback about the bartender's heritage, a familiar voice stopped him.
"Blay Hendricks, heard you'd surfaced again. But then you never knew how to lay low and avoid the wrong kind of attention."
Blay spun around on his stool to face his interlocutor, and a happy bark of a laugh escaped his lips when recognition dawned.
"Bart Bartonson! BB! My dear childhood friend, please, sit down, have a drink on my tab. It's been too long BB, tell me, do you still detest that nickname?"
Bart's face flushed red, and he remained standing.
"Yes, Blay, I do. And no, Blay, I won't. I'm on duty."
"On duty? What kind of job involves looking up and chatting with old friends in fine drinking establishments across the realm? And here I thought I had it good singing bawdy songs to uneducated peasants for hand-outs. Please, tell me there is an opening!"
"Don't play games with me Blay, we've known each other too long. I've come to warn you. The Lord Justice just got done listening to that Duke you've been antagonizing lately. He's put his approval on a warrant for your arrest for sedition, and it crossed my desk this morning. The Gendarmerie will probably wait until tonight to raid this place and bring you in. The more public a sedition arrest the better, is their thinking."
"Sedition? Antagonize?! You mean those innocent little rhymes concerning his manhood and the purity of his daughter? I'll have you know I am a serious performer, sir, and that I would never rhyme a rhyme without taking the time to do thorough research most fine. Surely that isn't a crime?" Asked Blay, a look of perfect innocence on his face over the tankard he sipped from.
Bart chuckled despite himself and rolled his eyes. "Indeed, Blay, it is, and the consequences of your fun are going to be very severe if they catch you this time. The Duke's star has been waning in the Court for years now, and your infernal limericks on the lips of all the young nobility whenever his back is turned doesn't help him maintain credibility much either. He won't give you a chance to embarrass him further in a trial, indeed I doubt if you'll even make it to gaol after you are dragged out of here tonight."
Blay set down his mug and stood. He regarded his old friend for a moment, then reached out to embrace him. "BB, my dear old friend, your warning is well taken. I'll not be here when they come for me, and I'll not betray your confidence under the worst of tortures."
Bart's face had flushed red again, but he returned the hug and drew back. "You'd sing like a canary when they showed you the stamped warrant they'd use to give you paper-cuts with." Grinned Bart, "and I'd be worried if I didn't know you were so damnably clever and able to convince your torturer's you were put up to it all by the poor Duchess herself."
"Heh, not to far from the truth, on both counts!" Blay turned back to the bar and downed the last of the ale in his mug. Bart's tone become decidedly more worried.
"You need to get out of town, far out of town, for a while. Think of it as research for a new ballad, if you like. Maybe you could go to-"
"Say no more! Best if you not even speculate upon it, BB. I may be able to lie convincingly to the gendarmes, but you have that disturbing tendency towards complete honesty working against you if you get collared. I suppose that's what attracted my sister to you, though God's know she could have married into the Peerage if she wanted to with her looks and graces."
"I can't stay much longer, they'll ask questions... You needn't exile yourself, Blay. The Duke's favor is running out at Court, and he won't be in a position to harm you forever. Besides, you've two nieces that are very fond of you, and will continue to expect gifts on their birthdays."
"Ha! And they shall have them!" Blay turned to face his friend and brother-in-law once more, and clasped his hands with Bart's. "Don't worry, BB, I'm far too clever to not get out of whatever trouble I get into. Besides, I do need some new material. We'll see each other again, sooner rather than later, I hope."
Bart smiled and nodded, and departed with a small, informal bow.
That night, Blay was well on his to Greensfen way with a horse he had stolen from a distracted gendarme. He had heard there was trouble out that way, and lacking a better place to go to, decided it might just be the place for an experienced bard to pick up a few new tales, and perhaps make a few of his own. He kept himself amused by imagining the looks on the faces of the gendarmes who would have kicked down the door to his room at the inn by now, and read the limerick he had written with chalk on the wall before he left.
I apologize profusely for the mess
I've left under quite some duress
And the bill that I owe
With the barkeep below
I leave for our celebrated Duke to address![/sblock]
Background
[sblock]Blay is a bit of a scoundrel, but he always gets into trouble with the best of intentions. He probably would have become a petty thief like so many he grew up with if he hadn't realized a clever wit, an instrument, and a talent for showmanship paid better with much less risk. He is very companionable, though opinions differ strongly on whether his acerbic sense of humor and playfully cutting lyrics are all in good fun, or intolerably rude and insulting. To his credit, he knows when to back off. Usually.
Blay has arrived in Greensfen with almost no information about the malady that besets the place. Eager to take part in new experiences to work into his music, he seeks out the likeliest group of people with something interesting to offer.[/sblock]
