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Commissions Open As of 2/12 I will be opening commissions for music, more information will be found below. Commission Rules and Standards Commissions will be open to all users, although I retain right to deny or accept commissions as I see fit. Music is a delicate thing, and hard to simply "create," it is important to find a topic that is **INTERESTING** to be put into song. All music will be published to my YouTube and shared to you via the link; thumbnail or visuals will either be provided by you for the video or created by me (we will discuss.) As a special note, romantic music will be accepted but only if both parties agree to the concept of the music; I will not be writing angsty or weird music. While I appreciate your money, I have standards. Examples of acceptable requests are below. Nation Anthems / Anthems for Noble Houses Ballads (battles, cool exchanges, heroic deeds) Romantic Songs (see above.) Pricing Prices will vary depending on product, if the work is made completely from scratch (I.E chords, tune, words written by me) it will cost more than music which takes the chords and tune from songs in the public domain. As example below is work written and created entirely by myself, and work that was made using the tune and phrasing from a work in the public domain. Because of this, no prices will be listed here as it is not possible to give, but expect to be paying more for work written entirely from scratch and not taking tune from other songs. OOC Contact Information: IGN: Sean_VEVO / SeanVEVO2 Discord: Sean_VEVO Temporary Message: Rest easy Collationers, your mina will not be going to Radmir Montalt. (peace be upon him)
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Various popular Dencynn hits, adjusted for the Aaunic palate by Boon & Bane in the year of 1961. With dedication to King John of Aaun and Queen Amelya of Middelan. AAUN CALLING Aaun calling to the faraway nations Now war is declared and battle come down Aaun calling to the underworld Come out of the vassals, you boys and girls Aaun calling, now don't look to us Phony Bardmania has bitten the dust Aaun calling, see we ain't got no swing Except for the ring of the truncheon thing The ice age is coming, the sun's zooming in Coup expected, the wheat is growing thin Cannons stop firing, but I have no fear 'Cause Aaun is flooding I live by the docks Aaun calling to the imitation zone Forget it, brother, you can go it alone Aaun calling to the ghouls of death Quit holding out and draw another breath Aaun calling and I don't want to shout But while we were talking, I saw you nodding out Aaun calling, see we ain't got no high Except for that one with the one eye The ice age is coming, the sun's zooming in Cannons stop firing, the wheat is growing thin A darkspawn era, but I have no fear 'Cause Aaun is flooding I, I live by the docks The ice age is coming, the sun's zooming in Cannons stop firing, the wheat is growing thin A darkspawn era, but I have no fear 'Cause Aaun is flooding I, I live by the docks Now get this Aaun calling, yes, I was there, too And you know what they said? Well, some of it was true Aaun calling at the top of the spire And after all this, won't you give me a smile? I never felt so much alike, alike, alike, alike GOD SAVE THE QUEEN God save the queen The Darkspawn regime They made you a moron A potential T(hanhium) bomb God save the queen She's not a human being and There's no future And Aaun’s dreaming Don't be told what you want Don't be told what you need There's no future No future No future for you God save the queen We mean it man We love our queen God saves God save the queen 'Cause raiders are money And our figurehead Is not what she seems Oh God save history God save your mad parade Oh Lord God have mercy All crimes are paid Oh when there's no future How can there be sin We're the flowers In the dustbin We're the tanglefoot In your human machine We're the future Your future God save the queen We mean it man We love our queen God saves God save the queen We mean it man There's no future In Aaun’s dreaming God save the queen No future No future No future for you No future No future No future for me No future No future No future for you AAUNLIFE Confidence is a preference for the habitual voyeur Of what is known as (Aaunlife) And morning soup can be avoided If you take a route straight through what is known as (Aaunlife) John's got brewers droop he gets intimidated By the dirty pigeons, they love a bit of him (Aaunlife) Who's that gut lord marching? You should cut down on your Aaunlife mate, get some exercise All the people So many people They all go hand in hand Hand in hand through their Aaunlife Know what I mean? I get up when I want except on Horen’s Calling When I get rudely awakened by the raiders (Aaunlife) I put my trousers on, have a cup of tea And I think about leaving the vassal (Aaunlife) I feed the pigeons I sometimes feed the seagulls too It gives me a sense of enormous well-being (Aaunlife) And then I'm happy for the rest of the day safe in the knowledge There will always be a bit of my heart devoted to it All the people So many people And they all go hand in hand Hand in hand through their Aaunlife Aaunlife (Aaunlife) Aaunlife (Aaunlife) It's got nothing to do with Sword Fighting technique you know (Aaunlife) And it's not about you joggers Who go round and round and round (Aaunlife) All the people So many people And they all go hand in hand Hand in hand through their Aaunlife All the people So many people And they all go hand in hand Hand in hand through their Aaunlife
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The Haeseni Soldier I wanted to write a song about the army and how much someone can find their worth in there, especially for those that often do not hail from much. Although I wanted to also capture how even the greatest of people and those not deserving to die in war, can often be the ones that do. But that does not mean we can ever stop fighting, they would want us to go on. They would want us to keep fighting, even when the battle is tough. So never give up! KRUSAE ZWY KONGZEM! A farmer’s boy with little worth, goes to the army. He joins the soldiers on a march, as his mother prays at home. A farmer’s boy, a soldier boy, wields his long sword bravely. He trains and trains until he faints, and his brothers treat him gently. A farmer’s boy, a soldier boy, his head held high and mighty. He fights for those he loves at home, although it pains him greatly. A farmer’s boy, a soldier boy, is now an admired sergeant. He trains his fellow soldiers, and prays they come back home A farmer’s boy, a soldier boy fights the gruesome wars, And although his mother prays at home, her soldier boy is gone A farmer’s boy, a soldier boy, drifts into the skies. His life was worth so very much, and his brothers cries his name A farmer’s boy, a soldier boy, looks down upon the army. He hopes they keep on fighting, as their Koeng needs them greatly Signed, Lady Erika Renate Barclay
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The Sturmholm Folio The works of Vorloin Baruch Vorloin Baruch, shortly after the Athera Expedition Vorloin Baruch, practicing a stage-play With the recent death of poet Vorloin Baruch, it has been requested by his will that his folio be published to the world at large. All that follows is the work of poet, who used the pen-name of Vorloin Sturmholm Editor’s note: For some reason, all of Mr Baruch’s writings refer to himself as ‘Vorion’, instead of ‘Vorloin’. Regardless of whatever caused this error, it has been corrected. ‘Almost all of these poems follow iambic pentameter, and most of them also are sonnets, with three rhyming quatrains and one couplet. Their themes range from loss and death, to love and life. May they strike your hearts, as they struck at least a couple’ - V. Baruch ((Music:)) O Father O Father, years have passed since fall of void, Yet I am left to sit and weep in prayer In days of freedom, Grief I have enjoyed Not, for that was the gift you chose to bear. O father, son of the herons marine Will you still love me as you once did then? To be a stouter son of meager means Or born a lesser prince of greater men? O father, torn from life, curse me now, words born from an acid, venomous tongue Will far outstip those that no longer vow To those whom once you genty, softly sung. They say the blood of covenant should wear Pains fierce; yet still I weep for water's share The Good Men I wonder, where have all the good men gone? I saw them ride unto the setting sun, One which they would never again see dawn, Fighting a battle that is still not won. I ask you, where do all the great kings lie? It is under a pile of ash and ruin Deathless since they were forced to cast the die, They lie, resting beside their royal kin. I pray you, where do all the lost souls go? For we see them no more, eternally They lie, lost in silver linings of snow. Lost to wisps of time, waiting, merrily. We wait for when the time should finally bend To meet again at last: all the good men Katharina’s Song If only the swans were as fair as I, They could shatter the moon with their beauty, They could ensnare the mighty lords on high, They could make Kingsguard flee from duty, If only the swans were as fair as I. If only the autumn leaves had my grace, They’d flutter as if dancers on a stage, They’d rustle as if they’d no other place, They'd read far more than any written page, If only the autumn leaves had my grace. If only the stormcrows could sing like me, They would enchant the creatures of the grove, They would lure sailors, like sirens on the sea, They would be diamond to all those who rove, If only the stormcrows could sing like me. The Sunset I passed through mists, and peered beyond the veil To see thee, at least, what seemed to be. Towards the earth the sun had set her sail, And her beauty almost matched your degree. For first I found the flowering lips of rose When, burning bright, a wildfire they blazed. How could the setting sun compare to those: The memory that shall never be erased. But soon I fell into a tender blue, The eyes which could the oceans entire keep. How could the sky hold a candle to you, When epics could be wrought for those eyes deep? And so I promise: you shall never die If here between these sheets of me you'll lie. Godan’s Muse I've ventured 'cross some cold, bleak, distant peaks, But there is naught to e’er compare to thee. The peerless blue above those velvet cheeks: The moonlight to calm every stormy sea. I rolled on waves and I’ve seen dawnings fair, But their beauty can only ever yield To radiance cast by golden strands of hair: The sunlight to sow every fallow field. I’ve cleft the ocean twain on mighty ships, But thus you made the nightingale cry: None could hope to reflect those rosen lips, A flower to charm e’ery wandering eye Then, since lands and sky all hold beauty, I so conclude that Godan’s muse was thee. The Holes of Wintertime Deep in the holes of wintertime I woke Next to your side, by a warm fire of oak. You whispered so quietly in the cold, From your lips wisps of mist did twist and fold. You spoke to me about the spring softly, Said it was made by the lord above, for me. That he made it so we could gently lie Betwixt these hills until one day we die. Hidden way from the warmth of a summer’s Sun, away from the march of the dummers’ Drums, lying under golden oaken leaves, I told you I love you beneath those trees. And yet at last, when the autumn leaves fell You said you were no more under my spell I thought I’d stay together with you, so fair, But you left me there. Soeng Karoseo And the common translation: A Song of Crows Usaer zezr haulyy haldae haenzi Wiem hag dercurvsk denraat, huil zwyzi Padrevar Ybiseo vzrarev kuz koeng Luzeng weld ag wauldlund: Kholv ag walic They poured ‘cross sea upon coasts haeseni At dawn slaying the weak and lame, then these Sons of Iblees set out unto the king Along woodlands, marshes: cold and soaking. Karos kyghyntae zwyen bottel routae Karos trazk raez humovsk viktry velyae. Krusae vatragan ag Godan zakisk: Kursin ag zvaerd usaer byk drazativsk And as honour demands that war be brought The crows struck out to seize the victory sought. Of hearth and faith they were a stalwart shield: With coats of arms and shining blades of steel. Nat lund vatragano supaes szar triek, Va rotasseran nie vokja byk tuek Tamort lafsk hauchoxtzen, lauderre, herzen. Zejr kvesja, warae laujisk aestbrein Upon the fields of flame their spears did meet And dawn ‘til dusk no army knew defeat. There fell warriors great, peasants and lords Above the mud, where Godan’s heavens poured Wiem mortesk feinvrago, tiz stratlyy rot Ag zinsk maeno weo fitsk dlum supaes Got They broke the horde, the rivers stained with blood And sang of men who gave their lives for God. ‘May the storms part in your passing' - Sturmholm family proverb
