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The Conquest of Maidens, Ale and Fortune! A tale of a Troubadour (Ch 1)


MrMojoMordor
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[OOC: This is a comedic, kinda meta, diary-form story of Egil, The Silver-Tongued - a young, hot-blooded and totally-not-desperate-for-attention 21 years old troubadour(bard). Excuse my odd grammar and mistakes. English is my 3rd language]

 

13th of The Grand Harvest, 1689

 

I woke up in a temple, miraculously without a hangover from last night's partying. Instead I felt oddly fresh, like a newborn. I stood up and wandered towards the only exit I could see, looking around curiously, feeling as if things seemed a bit more.. square. As my feet took me closer to the doorway of the Temple, the sweet scent of adventure, of maiden's bosoms yet untouched and ale yet to be tasted filled my nose, urging me on! To make haste, before they are claimed and shackled into boring books and senile old minds. 

 

Stepping outside, I was greeted by a few monks who seemed to repeat the same one or two lines of wisdom, probably not paying much attention whom they spoke to. There were a few other non-monks like myself wandering around the temple, each more colourful than than the next, browsing things, chatting up or just awkwardly looking at the ground or the sky. After receiving an odd cristal like ornament from one of the monks, I decided to sit and ponder about my situation, checking and tuning my lute.

Until, Goddess herself walked into my view from the temple.

 

Her brown hair flowed in the slight breeze like water flows in a river, the sun gently dancing on each of her hair. Her eyes were like the biggest shiny gems, deep green - like woods one could get lost in for weeks. Her nose was small and cute, her lips plump and rose coloured. The way she carried herself down the stairs with such elegant manner was nothing more, but an act to marvel at. A mini-miracle! She stopped by one of the many bookshelves in the temple and seemed to look right at me.

 

I of course approached the lady with bravado and confidence that one of my caliber should have and bowed to the lady, asking her name. To my surprise she stood still, peering past me into the distance. Like a sculpture too real and perfect to be man made. I tried to get the ladies attention yet again but to no avail. Thinking maybe a piece of music might make the beautiful, yet mysterious sculpture woman come back to life I played a short melody to her, my fingers dancing on the strings like elves in the rowdy tavern songs dance around the fire - elegant and wild at the same time.

 

To my disappointment the lady did not react: deaf, blind and mute, still in the moment as the time around her passed. With a sigh I put away my lute and started to look for the next maiden to woo when I heard a kharajyr growl behind me:" oh is thwat a bawd?".

 

 

 

Edited by MrMojoMordor
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