EnigmatikRomero, you roll in almost every post and I want to say I appreciate you
My pleasure. If nothing else, it gives me something to react to when I inevitably fluff an easy roll!
Romero
Member
Prince of Darkness
Status
User has no status, yet
Bio
User has no bio, yet
Most Recent Posts
My pleasure. If nothing else, it gives me something to react to when I inevitably fluff an easy roll!
Cillian could barely hear the elf over the roaring in his ears. He had heard the stories about the Blackwood, huddled around distant campfires or above the merriment of a dozen different taverns, but they still lit the fire within himself. Lost souls, fey spirits, an orc horde, demonic cults, if even half of the things that the elf was saying were true, then Cillian would find enough adventure to write a hundred songs. He had always known that his path would lead him into the darkness of the Blackwood, but even as the fire blazed into an inferno, he caught himself. When he was a younger man, he had been hot-headed, impetuous, too quick to throw himself into the jaws of danger just to feel the rush of adrenaline, just to feel alive, but he was older now, and he had not made it this far without cooling off a little. Wiser? Perhaps not, but he had enough scars across his body to have learnt a few lessons. His first instinct was still to leap at the opportunity, and the elf's words were more than enough to make Cillian want to plunge into the very heart of the Blackwood, but age, and experience, had given Cillian enough of a second instinct to stop and think.
The spell seemed to break, and the hunger pains in Cillian's stomach suddenly came to life again, almost making him wince. Even the drink the elf's hand was enough to make his mouth dry. The Blackwood had been calling to Cillian for as long as he could remember, he was sure that he could ignore the voice for at least another night. Letting the easy smile on his face remain unflinching, Cillian nodded his thanks towards the elf.
"You have been more than helpful, friend, thank you. I hope I am not imposing too greatly if I offer to buy you both a drink for your time. Something hot to eat perhaps?"
Cillian was a stranger in a strange town, and the unusual pair across the table were the closest thing to friends that he had. If nothing else, they seemed as if they would be good company while he filled his belly and satisfied his thirst, and if he was to head across the river and into the depths of the forest, then this elf maiden, this 'Saskia' was the closest thing to a guide that he had found. If he could tease some more information out of her for the price of another flagon? Then he would consider the day a success.
The spell seemed to break, and the hunger pains in Cillian's stomach suddenly came to life again, almost making him wince. Even the drink the elf's hand was enough to make his mouth dry. The Blackwood had been calling to Cillian for as long as he could remember, he was sure that he could ignore the voice for at least another night. Letting the easy smile on his face remain unflinching, Cillian nodded his thanks towards the elf.
"You have been more than helpful, friend, thank you. I hope I am not imposing too greatly if I offer to buy you both a drink for your time. Something hot to eat perhaps?"
Cillian was a stranger in a strange town, and the unusual pair across the table were the closest thing to friends that he had. If nothing else, they seemed as if they would be good company while he filled his belly and satisfied his thirst, and if he was to head across the river and into the depths of the forest, then this elf maiden, this 'Saskia' was the closest thing to a guide that he had found. If he could tease some more information out of her for the price of another flagon? Then he would consider the day a success.
so I can let you know if you got a special ability or not.
Special abilities you say? Colour me intrigued, and I'll get on it this afternoon!
Thank you! I will be sure to use this power responsibly (and not just pour it into Singing to give Cillian the voice of an angel). Should I just edit the new figures into my Character Sheet?
Cillian's chest was still heaving as he caught his breath, but he couldn't stop the smile from spreading across his face. He could feel the eyes of the room upon him, and he felt almost overwhelmingly alive. He was in his element, a player on a stage, the ever-present flame whipped into an inferno. His intended audience seemed a little stunned by his performance at first, until the elf spoke, her voice seeming to finally break the spell that had descended over the tavern. He listened to the two talk for a moment, relieved to hear that his hunch wasn't entirely unfounded, before his eyes were drawn to the outstretched hand of the elf maiden. His brief visit to the city of Greybridge had already proven to be an expensive one, but the bard was no stranger to the concept of money greasing the wheels of information. Perhaps her knowledge was indeed scant, perhaps she was even lying to him, attempting to swindle a newcomer to the city, but something in her eyes spoke to Cillian.
The two of them shared a trade, even if they practised their craft in different ways. It was information that Cillian wove into his tales, stitched into his songs, and he saw a glimpse of a kindred spirit in the elf. Cillian could tell grand legends of lands that he had never set foot in, recount the myths of people long dead, if this 'Saskia' traded in information, then it was not only her own experiences that she could share with Cillian, it was the experiences of every other soul that has pressed a coin into her outstretched palm. With practiced ease, Cillian reached into his coin purse, and pulled free a silver Lordling. He toyed with it in his hand for a moment, letting it run between his fingers, before taking another step closer to the unusual pair and dropping it into the outstretched hand of the elf.
"I hope that this will serve to sharpen your mind, friend. I look forward to hearing your tale."
The two of them shared a trade, even if they practised their craft in different ways. It was information that Cillian wove into his tales, stitched into his songs, and he saw a glimpse of a kindred spirit in the elf. Cillian could tell grand legends of lands that he had never set foot in, recount the myths of people long dead, if this 'Saskia' traded in information, then it was not only her own experiences that she could share with Cillian, it was the experiences of every other soul that has pressed a coin into her outstretched palm. With practiced ease, Cillian reached into his coin purse, and pulled free a silver Lordling. He toyed with it in his hand for a moment, letting it run between his fingers, before taking another step closer to the unusual pair and dropping it into the outstretched hand of the elf.
"I hope that this will serve to sharpen your mind, friend. I look forward to hearing your tale."
I've got a few deadlines to get through this week, but I should be able to get a post up for Cillian this weekend.
@POOHEAD189 With Duck changing characters, should I treat Sylvaine as an NPC, or let her fade into the background? I mainly ask because she owes Cillian some coin! Coin that could come in handy for paying a certain elf.
Cillian had risen to his feet as he spoke, and as the unusual pair turned to look at him, he took a tentative step closer to their table, the well-rehearsed smile never leaving his face. If nothing else, his introduction seemed to distract the pair from squabbling over the fat coin purse, and that was as good a start as any.
The pause in bickering was only short-lived, and Cillian quickly got the impression that the elf and the gnome were old friends, arguing back and forth, each looking to gain the upper hand. Cillian's smile didn't falter, but behind the pale blue eyes, his mind was racing to keep up with the overlapping intricacies of the conversation. He had the distinct feeling that he was being played, the pair perhaps sniffing out the oppurtunity that a fumbling newcomer might present. He had names now at least, but even those set him ill at ease. The elf was Saskia, and the gnome Calvin, but it had been the gnome's reaction that had surprised Cillian. Was it simply being introduced as a sidekick that had taken him by surprise, or was it the name itself? Before Cillian could ponder too long on the thought, his mind caught up with his ears, and he realised that the pair were looking at him expectantly.
Ever the showman, Cillian grinned widely again as he spread his arms wide. Perhaps the pair were looking to swindle him, or perhaps it was simply idle curiosity, but whatever the reason, they had agreed to be his audience, and Cillian had never been one to walk away from a willing audience. Taverns had been his stage countless times in the past, and despite the unfamiliarity of the city beyond the building's walls, the bard was in his element, the fire behind his eyes slowly flickering into a blaze as he spoke.
"I have many tales to tell, if you only have the time, but it is a tale that I cannot yet tell that has brought me to this fair city. Ever since I was a boy, clinging to my mother's skirts, I was haunted by dreams of darkness. But this was not the darkness that plagues all children, the darkness of shadows and things that go bump in the night, this darkness was deep, and it called my name. It was only as I grew older, and heard the tales and legends of the world, that I learned the name of that darkness. The Blackwood. Ever since that day, the darkness has continued to call to me, and although my path has been long and winding, I always knew that it would eventually lead me here. The inky darkness waits on the other side of the raging waters, and I know that my fate lies within it. I am a man of legends and grand tales, and the Blackwood will grant me my greatest stories, I need only for someone to strike the first match. Friends, the two of you strike me as seasoned travellers, familiar with these parts. I wonder then, if your paths have ever led you beyond the water, and into the darkness beyond..."
Cillian allowed himself to tail off, the sound of his own heart pounding in his ears, a single pale eyebrow raised towards the pair. He hoped that his hunch was correct, that the unusual pair would not be lingering in Greybridge without having travelled into the Blackwood, or at least know the tales of those that had. Perhaps this was a dead end, perhaps it would simply an oppurtunity to waste away some time, but Cillian could not shake the clinging sense that there was something else here, something more.
The pause in bickering was only short-lived, and Cillian quickly got the impression that the elf and the gnome were old friends, arguing back and forth, each looking to gain the upper hand. Cillian's smile didn't falter, but behind the pale blue eyes, his mind was racing to keep up with the overlapping intricacies of the conversation. He had the distinct feeling that he was being played, the pair perhaps sniffing out the oppurtunity that a fumbling newcomer might present. He had names now at least, but even those set him ill at ease. The elf was Saskia, and the gnome Calvin, but it had been the gnome's reaction that had surprised Cillian. Was it simply being introduced as a sidekick that had taken him by surprise, or was it the name itself? Before Cillian could ponder too long on the thought, his mind caught up with his ears, and he realised that the pair were looking at him expectantly.
Ever the showman, Cillian grinned widely again as he spread his arms wide. Perhaps the pair were looking to swindle him, or perhaps it was simply idle curiosity, but whatever the reason, they had agreed to be his audience, and Cillian had never been one to walk away from a willing audience. Taverns had been his stage countless times in the past, and despite the unfamiliarity of the city beyond the building's walls, the bard was in his element, the fire behind his eyes slowly flickering into a blaze as he spoke.
"I have many tales to tell, if you only have the time, but it is a tale that I cannot yet tell that has brought me to this fair city. Ever since I was a boy, clinging to my mother's skirts, I was haunted by dreams of darkness. But this was not the darkness that plagues all children, the darkness of shadows and things that go bump in the night, this darkness was deep, and it called my name. It was only as I grew older, and heard the tales and legends of the world, that I learned the name of that darkness. The Blackwood. Ever since that day, the darkness has continued to call to me, and although my path has been long and winding, I always knew that it would eventually lead me here. The inky darkness waits on the other side of the raging waters, and I know that my fate lies within it. I am a man of legends and grand tales, and the Blackwood will grant me my greatest stories, I need only for someone to strike the first match. Friends, the two of you strike me as seasoned travellers, familiar with these parts. I wonder then, if your paths have ever led you beyond the water, and into the darkness beyond..."
Cillian allowed himself to tail off, the sound of his own heart pounding in his ears, a single pale eyebrow raised towards the pair. He hoped that his hunch was correct, that the unusual pair would not be lingering in Greybridge without having travelled into the Blackwood, or at least know the tales of those that had. Perhaps this was a dead end, perhaps it would simply an oppurtunity to waste away some time, but Cillian could not shake the clinging sense that there was something else here, something more.
Perhaps Cillian had been listening to the rhythm of the city for too long, or perhaps attempting to overhear a conversation in a crowded tavern was too tricky a task, but whatever the reason, Cillian's attempts to learn more about the money changing hands proved to be futile. It was clear that information was being exchanged between the two groups, but whether it was the elf and the gnome giving information to the warrior-woman, or the reverse, he could not make out. Whatever the case, it intrigued him, and he had all but forgotten his pangs of hunger. Cillian had spent his life following things that intrigued him, and it had yet to steer him wrong. He hesitated, catching his own train of thought for a moment. It had yet to steer him 'too' wrong. Every scar told a story, and when your trade was stories, sometimes a close scrape was far more useful than an easy ride.
Cillian's internal monologue was cut short as the warrior-woman strode past his table, the mace that hung at her hip lightly knocking against the table itself as she passed. Jolted back to reality, Cillian could practically feel the thread of oppurtunity slipping through his fingers. Perhaps if Sylvaine was with him, he could ask for her to share her... unusual perspective, but a quick glance over to the bar told him that she was making no great haste in joining him at the table, still in conversation with the dishevelled dwarf. No, if he wanted to grasp this oppurtunity, whatever this oppurtunity was, he would have to do it on his own. For a moment, he felt himself teetering on a knife-edge, deciding which way to fall. He could seize the thread before it had slipped away entirely, or he could sit back and let it pass, waiting for Sylvaine to eventually return with a drink and a hot meal, whenever that might be. A ghost of a smile crossed Cillian as he considered the question. He had never been the type to let the oppurtunity for a good tale to pass him by, and even with his legs stiff from travel, and his throat dry, he was not about to change now.
Putting on his most friendly smile, and trusting that if he had been able to overhear the table, then they would be able to hear him, Cillian turned in his seat to face the elf and the gnome, leaning forward as he spoke.
"Greetings, friends. I do not mean to intrude, but I am Cillian Kindellan, a wandering bard, and I have indeed been wandering far. My travelling companions have been pleasant enough, but I am always eager for some... fresher conversation, and the two of you have the appearance of people that are worth knowing. If I can trouble you for your time, perhaps we could get to know each other a little?"
Cillian's internal monologue was cut short as the warrior-woman strode past his table, the mace that hung at her hip lightly knocking against the table itself as she passed. Jolted back to reality, Cillian could practically feel the thread of oppurtunity slipping through his fingers. Perhaps if Sylvaine was with him, he could ask for her to share her... unusual perspective, but a quick glance over to the bar told him that she was making no great haste in joining him at the table, still in conversation with the dishevelled dwarf. No, if he wanted to grasp this oppurtunity, whatever this oppurtunity was, he would have to do it on his own. For a moment, he felt himself teetering on a knife-edge, deciding which way to fall. He could seize the thread before it had slipped away entirely, or he could sit back and let it pass, waiting for Sylvaine to eventually return with a drink and a hot meal, whenever that might be. A ghost of a smile crossed Cillian as he considered the question. He had never been the type to let the oppurtunity for a good tale to pass him by, and even with his legs stiff from travel, and his throat dry, he was not about to change now.
Putting on his most friendly smile, and trusting that if he had been able to overhear the table, then they would be able to hear him, Cillian turned in his seat to face the elf and the gnome, leaning forward as he spoke.
"Greetings, friends. I do not mean to intrude, but I am Cillian Kindellan, a wandering bard, and I have indeed been wandering far. My travelling companions have been pleasant enough, but I am always eager for some... fresher conversation, and the two of you have the appearance of people that are worth knowing. If I can trouble you for your time, perhaps we could get to know each other a little?"
Glancing across to the bar that Sylvaine had gravitated towards, Cillian frowned slightly when he saw that she had apparently struck up a conversation with the dishevelled dwarf, rather than with the inn-keep. The dwarf certainly didn't look to be in a sharing mood, and although Cillian couldn't make out their conversation, he doubted they were discussing the acquirement of any food and drink. Or at least not for Cillian. Thankfully a lifetime of wandering, travelling wherever his feet took him, had left Cillian as a man with plenty of patience, and despite the pangs from his stomach, and the dryness of his mouth, the man from the Caelic Isles was always grateful for a moment of peace, and as he leant back in his chair, stretching out his tired legs, Cillian closed his eyes for a moment, and simply listened.
It had been his mother's first story that had lit the fire within Cillian, but it had not been until he had first heard her sing that the flame had been whipped into an inferno. To hear the magic of her words, to feel the power of the legends in her voice, it had bewitched Cillian. He had spent untold hours sharing the stories he had learnt with anyone who was willing to listen, and as he had grown older, he had lent his own voice to the windswept hall of his village. Ever since that first song, Cillian had grown to appreciate the sounds of life, and as he leant back in his chair, the air around him was alive with noise, and it was like music to him. The murmur of a dozen voices filled the tavern, weaving together to form a wall of noise, each voice merging into the next, but there was more beyond that. The sound of boots on floorboards gave an uneasy beat to the symphony, and if Cillian concentrated, he could hear horseshoes on cobbles from the streets that ran past the tavern. Running beneath it all, like the silver thread along the hem of the chaotic tapestry, Cillian could still hear the roar of the river Heathric. The noise was at the heart of the city, just as the river itself was, and to Cillian, it was like the blood-flow of some mighty beast. In an instant, one noise cut through it all, and brought Cillian crashing back to reality, the tether frantically tugging for his full attention.
The distinctive sound of a coin purse landing on a table, and being slid across it, was a sound that was all too familiar to Cillian, and as it cut through the hubbub of the tavern, the wandering bard was careful to keep his eyes closed, straining for the source of the sound. It didn't take him long to realise that it had come from the direction of the unusual trio that had had noticed when he had first entered. It seemed as if he would have to wait for something to eat, but his hunger was all but forgotten as he strained to overhear the conversation of the Skayeleigh warrior-woman, the Elven maiden and the Gnome gentleman. At worst, it would serve as a welcome distraction, and perhaps even make for an interesting tale.
It had been his mother's first story that had lit the fire within Cillian, but it had not been until he had first heard her sing that the flame had been whipped into an inferno. To hear the magic of her words, to feel the power of the legends in her voice, it had bewitched Cillian. He had spent untold hours sharing the stories he had learnt with anyone who was willing to listen, and as he had grown older, he had lent his own voice to the windswept hall of his village. Ever since that first song, Cillian had grown to appreciate the sounds of life, and as he leant back in his chair, the air around him was alive with noise, and it was like music to him. The murmur of a dozen voices filled the tavern, weaving together to form a wall of noise, each voice merging into the next, but there was more beyond that. The sound of boots on floorboards gave an uneasy beat to the symphony, and if Cillian concentrated, he could hear horseshoes on cobbles from the streets that ran past the tavern. Running beneath it all, like the silver thread along the hem of the chaotic tapestry, Cillian could still hear the roar of the river Heathric. The noise was at the heart of the city, just as the river itself was, and to Cillian, it was like the blood-flow of some mighty beast. In an instant, one noise cut through it all, and brought Cillian crashing back to reality, the tether frantically tugging for his full attention.
The distinctive sound of a coin purse landing on a table, and being slid across it, was a sound that was all too familiar to Cillian, and as it cut through the hubbub of the tavern, the wandering bard was careful to keep his eyes closed, straining for the source of the sound. It didn't take him long to realise that it had come from the direction of the unusual trio that had had noticed when he had first entered. It seemed as if he would have to wait for something to eat, but his hunger was all but forgotten as he strained to overhear the conversation of the Skayeleigh warrior-woman, the Elven maiden and the Gnome gentleman. At worst, it would serve as a welcome distraction, and perhaps even make for an interesting tale.
© 2007-2024