|
|
Post by Masterbard Alyster Darkharp on May 3, 2023 23:57:57 GMT -5
Alyster felt good. It wasn’t often that he did a thing, a really good thing, for reasons that weren’t selfish. He had done that. Sure, within an hour he had been considering ways to leverage the deed against something for a personal gain, it was who he was. It hadn’t been a thought in the moment though, and that pleased him. There was some good in him and it was in control sometimes. That was well and good. He thought hard about his own actions in a way that he hadn’t in some time. For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t disappointed in himself. His mother would have approved: and that was the measure against which he attempted to measure all of his deeds. His mother wouldn’t be happy about some of it, but this? Who couldn’t be. He gazed over at the painting known as Uncommon Valor. The proud Dragoneer glared back from the canvas, but he didn’t seem so fearsome now. He seemed like a man again, a man that he had unleashed to do great good. The Druid was right, all philosophies pertaining to it aside - they agreed that we are all of us part of the balance. |
|
|
|
Post by Masterbard Alyster Darkharp on May 4, 2023 7:50:48 GMT -5
It was the first day of his new life. As much as he didn’t like to consider it, it was mildly uncomfortable to know that he wasn’t at the top of his Bardic Empire any longer. At least he didn’t appear to be. Appearances were important.
After a good nights sleep though, he still felt good about what he had done, all of it. He looked down at the sheet of parchment where he was still stuck on “We are not good people…” and decided that maybe he would keep it short and sweet. They weren’t good people, but there were a lot worse and that was something that he also felt good about.
His own words drifted through his mind “What happens to them Padrin, if I don’t lead. Who directs Sylus Stormcrown, Sendai and Marcus? Evenwood, Dundragon?”
He knew in his heart that he had made the right decision. His friends needed him and maybe more than anything in his whole world: he also needed them. Loyalty to one another was the core. His loyalty to Alizarin had meant that he had to leave, and his loyalty to his friends, to the gang that they called The Dragon’s Bastards, meant that he had to lead. He didn’t feel he was particularly good at it, but he tried hard.
As the sun rose over Suzail, and a new day dawned, Alyster prayed to a litany of deities. Henrik had newly blessed his Triadic Shrine, perhaps he should find priests to make them all official. Official or not, he thought they did listen sometimes. The amount his deeds had led him to learn yesterday was impressive, he saw Oghma’s divine ink in this. Facts that mattered to no one mattered to him. They were the coin he bought his life with day in and day out.
His friend was right, Padrin was. His path was troubled and dangerous, and just like he liked dangerous women, he liked dangerous paths. He was The Bard, Alyster Darkharp and nothing could take that away. Alizarin hadn’t made him who he was, it had made him a better man though. Padrin was the right choice and he couldn’t second guess that, wouldn’t do the man that disservice. He trusted Padrin, he trusted Oghma. Most of all he trusted that if he still needed Alizarin, that he could call upon them.
|
|
|
|
Post by DM Betelgeuse on May 9, 2023 16:32:00 GMT -5
The figure who had come to be known as One-Two was seen entering the House of Harp and Dragon.
Hours later, a figure wearing the same clothes as One-Two was seen leaving the House of Harp and Dragon with Father Henrik and his wife Lynn. His hood was down, he had a smile on his face and he looked... different... surely that could not be One-Two?
|
|
|
|
Post by Masterbard Alyster Darkharp on May 10, 2023 8:15:23 GMT -5
The sounds of drums and lute fill the House of Harp & Dragon late into the spring Suzail evenings, floating on the air into the Northeast Market when the city noise dies down after dark. It seems to be filled with music even through the day as Alyster sinks himself deep into practice.
|
|
|
|
Post by Masterbard Alyster Darkharp on May 12, 2023 21:13:09 GMT -5
The sounds of lute, violin and cello fill the square just outside of the a House of Harp & Dragon, and intermittently are replaced with piano throughout the morning and afternoon. Marcus Thorne comes and goes during this time and into the evening the music dies out. The Masterbard and his apprentice seem to be locked into intense rehearsals for something.
|
|
|
|
Post by Masterbard Alyster Darkharp on May 20, 2023 16:02:50 GMT -5
Alyster checks his mail upon arriving at the House, and anxiously moved to his desk where he breaks the seal on a letter and reads it. The smile behind his thespians mask increases as he reads what it written there. He pauses a moment and reflects before he pens a response, and sends it with a messenger to its destination.
|
|
|
|
Post by Masterbard Alyster Darkharp on May 21, 2023 19:12:02 GMT -5
Yesterday had been an excellent day, and at least for himself, today had been a real treasure. His eternal quest was one of learning and today he had learned and been able to deduct a great deal from events.
His fingers methodically worked the strings of the Anstruth Harp as he practiced, but his mind was not in the moment. His mind was on things far away, on events moving and wheels turning. Things out of his control and influence to be avoided, things he could direct with minimal danger his mind courted.
All manner of actors were cast in this moment in time, and he was enjoying it. He looked over fondly at a recent letter now worn flat upon his desk from reading, considered it’s contents and smiled to himself. What would happen now that the chips were down?
|
|
|
|
Post by demolicious on May 22, 2023 13:36:39 GMT -5
Recently, a gray robed figure of certain scrivener was seen knocking on the door of H&D, being greeted at the door by Alyster Darkharp.
She remained inside for significant period of time. Upon leaving, she was seen making her way through the streets while leafing through a book she was not carrying previously.
|
|
|
|
Post by Masterbard Alyster Darkharp on Jun 14, 2023 8:13:44 GMT -5
The darkly clad halfling collects one of the notes, where he finds it on the Suzail note board near the field gate. He considers the words carefully before he moves on to his home near the Northeast Market. The words repeating in his head, similar to other Harper notes and propaganda displayed over time. “A Harper does not lead with pride” he said to himself as he passed through the entryway to his place of work and living: The House of Harp & Dragon.
After examining the handwriting against many older notes, he opens a large scrap book, bound in leather. Brushing an adhesive into a page, he carefully presses the note into place. He takes up a quill and begins to make a few annotations in the margins, scrawling the date at the top of the page along with the word “Suzail”.
After allowing it to dry, he flips back through the book which bears the title “The Harpers at Twilight”, scanning the contents of many notes collected since he had returned to Cormyr in 1372. Suspect faces passing through his mind.
The halfling spoke out loud as if someone else were present, but he remained alone. The everburning candles perched high in his World-Tree model caused a sort of dappled lighting to fall across the large desk. “Busy little bees tending to the hive…good to see that they have chosen to emerge in this, most tenuous time: are you their new queen?” The questions fell upon empty air as he contemplated.
He slid the scrap book into place with many others after securing the note within its pages. Other titles in the nearby volumes presented themselves as he cleaned the quill with a dark cloth, wiping the ink away and preserving the instrument. His eyes read the titles in his own hand, all of them the same sort of scrap books, ‘Neither Collar Nor Crown’, ‘The Jokes of Laughing Jesters’, ‘The Marsember Gangwars of 1386 DR’, ‘The Feyzra & the Comet of Calamity’, chronicles of news and events few took note of in depth were painstakingly documented here for some purpose known only to the Bard.
He withdrew a second volume, this one plain and lacking a title, but it’s large cover was inked with a stylized raven with a black crown on its cruel avian head. Opening the volume he began to now make notes in it with a different quill, this one a black raven feather, with it's stylus fashioned from a raven's beak, messages from his own agents and himself pasted into its vellum pages. The Bard worked long and smiled behind the mask he wore, even when alone most times.
|
|
|
|
Post by Masterbard Alyster Darkharp on Aug 28, 2023 9:52:28 GMT -5
Alyster worked in silence at his desk, examining the translations of the piece known as The Lament of Eluai, also less formally known in it's time as Sorrow & Joy of Eluai. This work was of paramount importance to him as a Cormyrian bard who had long searched through scant details for work of the time period of the hold of Il'sindahald. As he worked out the musical transcriptions from the elven symbols to the more widespread trade tongue, he paid close attention to the phrasing and details of the ballad. It's author, Falinda of the Fair Harp, was one of just a seven historically documented names from the fragmentary work that had become known as The Belecallawyn. The accuracy in language and performance of such a piece of bardic art was very important to him, so important that he had trouble not sinking into the emotion of the music as he unlocked it's notes in the transcription.
The story was one as old as mortals, perhaps as old as gods. The story of a parting of two souls in love only to be rekindled at the moment of finality of what comes after. Endless in it's telling, this tale transcends mortal time and enters into that realm of bardic imagination which ensures that some of us at least, are immortals.
|
|
|
|
Post by Masterbard Alyster Darkharp on Sept 5, 2023 2:33:42 GMT -5
Within the lobby of the House of Harp & Dragon there is a catalog of the known spell-books to peruse:  |
|
|
|
Post by Masterbard Alyster Darkharp on Sept 8, 2023 21:08:49 GMT -5
Context
Alyster sat at the counter of his shop, thumbing through correspondence, letters, books he had been sent, notes from informants: one stood out, and he mouthed the name to himself and used the stylus of a nearby quill as a letter opener. Unfolding the parchment he looked it over, reading it to himself. His mind, even as he did this examined the structure of the letters, how strong or weak the capitals were. Determining that it was in all probability authentic.
The content of the note brought memories of bad times, a struggle, and a struggle he had only recently tied up the loose ends of. He had a slight pain in his temple as things flashed through his mind. Visions of a maze and himself running through the stone pathways. The flashes ended in a flurry of fighting between himself, his old luck blade in his hand, and a second individual. He would rather not remember that. Many betrayals in that time, and that one the most serious. Like a lightning strike it ended and left him momentarily unsettled. What was unclear as always was who had won the fight.
Shaking his head he came back to himself in the present. “It was me, I won and that’s just as clear as good glass to almost anyone looking”. He mused to himself; who won a game where the two players were the same, made the same bet, got dealt the same hand? One of them had folded though. In the end though he supposed that he was alright. He was definitely alright.
He considered for a long while, and then he went to his personal books on his desk. From there he took a small stack of three quite similar and ordinary looking novels, another book with a dwarven face on the cover. Several scrolls, and a set of notes loosely bound with a harp string woven through the edge of the papers like a seamstresses thread were also gathered. He took these with him into his shop and stowed them below the counter.
After this he felt the need for guidance perhaps more than usual. Some of this knowledge was painful and it touched on dark corners of his somewhat fragile mind, but sometimes you sacrificed for what you learned. You paid a cost and sometimes you paid the price that all men must pay. It was known though amongst the faithful of the Binder that his petitioners to the House or Knowledge kept their memories from former life, but lost sense of self. They knew everything they did but did not know themselves. He wondered how it would be to possess all this knowledge without context. He supposed that at times like this it would be a good thing, no pain or knowledge of failure or loss, betrayal. He wouldn’t remember other things though such as the origins of the line “like the seas and the sky and a fair lasse’s eyes, like sapphires and lapis, and the cloaks of our chapter”. He smiled and decided that even though to be without it would eventually be nice, for now…context was everything.
|
|
|
|
Post by Masterbard Alyster Darkharp on Sept 9, 2023 13:58:26 GMT -5
The Bard was in the back room of the Phoenix Theater, it was here that he would complete this project in the area that the theater crews used to cast theatrical thespians masks. In a manner of speaking, that was his task this night. He had purchased a very high-quality set of materials for this task, and been working on it for some time when he had the chance. He was applying the finishing touches now, using a fine blade to add in creases to the ‘skin’ of the face. These materials were made especially to craft a disguise, but he waived that right when he at last applied the gleaming silver and gold paint to it. He sat back and examined his work, sanding any burs off and repainting as necessary. Working at the adjustable straps used to hold such masks in place. He had applied some of his knowledge of healing to this task, especially padding the straps on their interiors with soft bandage material that would irritate skin as little as possible, applying the same to the inner area where the bridge of the nose, and the cheekbones and forehead would touch the mask. These sections could be easily removed and replaced as they needed it. He thought that worn with an open-faced helmet, the effect would be proper. The face remembered, not imitated. Insult wasn’t his task here. Deciding that it was ready, he packed it in a box and addressed it to the Great Hall of Valkur’s Roar, and contracted a messenger to deliver it with a sealed letter. |
|
|
|
Post by From Down Below on Sept 20, 2023 21:44:56 GMT -5
Zoey is welcomed, as she enters the House of Harp & Dragon, with a new desk meant for her to use! Zoey's excitement is going through the roof as she piles books and pursue her studies within the House.  |
|
|
|
Post by From Down Below on Sept 20, 2023 23:12:29 GMT -5
After a quick walk in the small town of Greatgaunt, Zoey emotions are mixed and decides to teleport back to the capital. On her way to the House, she stops to buy ink and a quill that would fit her. She enters the apartment, going to her desk and rummaging for a book that caught her eye when received a few days ago. She quickly looks over the cover attentively before laying it down on the desk in front of her, book still closed. Taking out a brand new journal with the ink and quill she just bought, setting the book on the book support and prepping the ink for its use. Gently dipping the tip of the quill into the ink, before scribing over the hard cover of the journal "Summoning I". Opening the journal, she start adding to the white pages notes in regards to the observations made from the book's cover and condition. "The tome is in a rough condition, almost as if not taken of, or voluntarily put in bad condition." She then opens the book with care, quickly flipping through the pages, remarking the atrocious condition in which the book is. She then adds more notes to her journal. "Going through the pages reveal that the state of the cover is only the beginning of the poor state in which is the guide." "Pages are all soiled with various things from what it seems to be mud to blood." "From first inspect only a few pages seems to be in a better state, even intact. They others are of no use." Taking notes of the pages in better condition, then starts studying them more closely. Some of the content seem new to her and would need her sometime to interpret and make good use instructions. Attempting them without enough study could potentially turn into malfunctions of the spells or unknown results. On the other hand, there's a few pages she would recognize and could easily interpret. What seems to be rather -basic- summoning of the 4th and lower circles. Even though she would recognize the content, she still scribes notes of it in her journal a few pages away from the notes regarding the book itself. She'd also take the time to add a few sides notes on the margins for each of them. Said notes would relate to what to expect from the different summons and their utility in battle or other situations.  She would eventually fall asleep at her desk as she studies the -more- complex conjuration spells left to understand. *the book in question she's studying is entitled "The Guide to Experimental Summoning"* |
|
|
|
Post by From Down Below on Sept 22, 2023 16:12:59 GMT -5
Yesterday was a great day for Zoey,
Following a conversation about summons with miss Milna in Greatgaunt,
Zoey got her scribed the instructions for calling upon a planar.
She took the rest of the afternoon, when she wasn't busy with other things, to study the scroll that she bought earlier.
The notion of summoning a planar seemed quite similar, but also different, to the ones used to summon her Iron Golem.
Later that night she gave a try a it to see the outcome.
It was successful!
--
Today as the House goes quiet, she takes place at her desk.
Laying down her book on it, and setting her journal on the book support.
She also takes out her dark tome, setting it aside the one on the desk.
Flipping a few pages through it, searching for the page with the planar summoning.
She spends a few minutes reading the spell over again.
When done, she opens her journals a few pages further away from her notes regarding "regular" summoning.
She write at the top in bold letters "Planar".
Beneath it and for a few pages she scribes down the spell, followed with the important points from her conversation with miss Milna.
Most of it could be resumed to "The planar answering the call will be of the caster's philosophies and seemingly following the same virtues."
Her experience as she tried on herself can also be found towards the ends of her notes relating to the planar summoning.
--
As she was writing down her notes, her friend from the Prancing Bull showed up to say hi.
With no surprise Zoey jumped from her seat.
The conversation lasted only for a moment before she left.
Zoey took note of the exchange on a blank piece of parchment leftover laying on her desk.
|
|
|
|
Post by From Down Below on Sept 26, 2023 20:13:09 GMT -5
In the early afternoon, Zoey walked into the House.
She laid down her things at her desk, greeting Harp, before sitting at her desk.
She resumed her reading, eventually more people came to the House.
She didn't stop while the others were discussing near her, even tried to comment here and there if she thought she could add to the conversation.
A few moments later, the ones left in the House could see crash her face into her book.. After fives days without sleep, Zoey's body needed some proper sleep.
She was left sleeping alone at the House, she finally woke up from her dreams to realize she was now alone.
She started to question herself about the dreams she just had..
She walked a good moment across the House, back and forth, thinking about them.
Later in the evening, people can see Zoey leave the house and head toward Marsember.
Her books, manuals, and other trinkets related to her studies were left at her desk.
|
|
|
|
Post by The Oncoming Mooseocalypse on Oct 4, 2023 19:54:53 GMT -5
A jester bardling queen house bard drops by before a long journey leaving all but a sticky sweet wrapper upon which a note is scribbled in barely ledgible writting;
"I can fill a room
Or just one heart,
Others may have me
But I cannot be shared
What am I?
Your Queen Bardling Jester
Sendalicious"
|
|
|
|
Post by brian333 on Oct 11, 2023 11:34:57 GMT -5
Ooc: I have an answer, but no character with access to the puzzle!
|
|
|
|
Post by DM Betelgeuse on Oct 11, 2023 12:24:57 GMT -5
In recent days, a strange figure who is always cloaked and hooded can be seen lingering around the door of the harp and dragon. He does not seem to be doing anything other than watching and occasionally making notes in a small journal.
|
|
|
|
Post by Masterbard Alyster Darkharp on Oct 11, 2023 17:21:01 GMT -5
OOC: I was wondering when someone would have an answer to the puzzle! //Apologies my internet time has been cut back pretty steeply with the new job for the moment. I meant to come back and at least try but it hasn’t happened lol |
|
|
|
Post by The Oncoming Mooseocalypse on Oct 12, 2023 3:36:10 GMT -5
OOC: That should have been through my player account not my EDM one, so...yeah, dont worry though it will be fun to see what people come up with
|
|
|
|
Post by The Oncoming Mooseocalypse on Oct 16, 2023 3:00:05 GMT -5
-The- Jester Bardling Queen (currently) saunters through the halls of the appartment building, hips swaying this way and that. A jingle here...a jingle there until she reaches the desired door, she wanders in carefreely skipping, cartwheeling throwing confetti and glitter over -everything and everywhere- leaving a sticky sweet wrapper upon Master Harps desk, again a riddle is written upon the back in better handwritting this time..by her standards and it reads as follows;
"I speak without a mouth and hear without ears.
I have no body, but I come alive with wind.
What am I?"
She signs it feminine though there is a hint of fun in there
"Your Queen Bardling Jester
Sendalicious"
|
|
|
|
Post by Mooseocalypse on Oct 19, 2023 6:11:43 GMT -5
*A feminine figure walked the halls, dragging talon like nails gently across the walls / doors until she reached her destination*
*A note is slipped under the door, addressed to a Mister Darkharp. The envelope is sealed with blue wax, the stamp a letter "M"*
*The feminine figure makes for the exit the same manner in which she entered, talon like nails dragging across walls / doors gently*
//Check your message inbox for contents of letter  |
|
Kaelyth
New Member
Can't see the forest for the trees.
Posts: 97
|
Post by Kaelyth on Dec 11, 2023 22:38:33 GMT -5
*Kaelyth Battlesong leaves a sealed parchment at the door of The House of Harp & Dragon. The words "For Sylus" are plainly legible on the papers.*
// davenutninja408 PM will be forthcoming - I spent all my time requesting our robot overlords create the above image and have to go to bed.
|
|
|
|
Post by Masterbard Alyster Darkharp on Dec 24, 2023 19:37:25 GMT -5
Cinder Claws & the Chaotic Yule In the Year of Lightning Storms, 1374 DR, many events of great importance occurred within the Forest Kingdom, and across Faerun. So many, that some smaller details have been nearly forgotten over time, such as the story of Cinder Claws. In 1374 DR, at the appointed time in late Nightal, when normal Yuletide festivals and celebrations would be held, and gifts exchanged, it was customary to have many visits by the Spirit of the North. However, in 1374, instead, a large red Slaad dressed in clothing similar to that worn by the Spirit of the North, appeared and haphazardly assaulted adventurers (and presumably others) with various gifts which chaotically ranged from meaningless trinkets to powerful magical items. These items were often thrown at the heads of the ‘receivers’ in precarious moments, such as in combat with other monsters. Beside these strange appearances, it is undocumented if the ‘standard’ Spirit of the North appeared at all in 1374, or if the appearance of the Slaad somehow replaced him for that year. Cinder Claws was quite powerful, with flaming claws and seeming power over elemental fire, and seemed more like a red Death Slaad, than an actual Red Slaad, to my eyes. He was of a size with another Slaad who appeared several times in Cormyr, known as Donk the Chaos King, who was in fact a Death Slaadi. Cinder Claws also made several documented visits to Suzail, Marsember, Greatgaunt, Valkur’s Roar (then the free City of Redmist), probably visiting all cities and towns within the Kingdom as his apparent counterpart, the Spirit of the North. What is the relationship? Did wild magic transform the Spirit into this creature? Was the Spirit somehow unable to complete his task, and co-opted the being known as Cinder Claws to fulfill his mission? Was this some kind of weird joke? The following bit of gossip was circulated in 1374, around the time that Cinder Claws made visits, and is the only known lore on the topic: “The story of Cinder Claws is an old one, steeped in history and riddled with myth. Each year during the month of Nightal, a mysterious figure named called Cinder Claws (for both his entrance and appearance) chooses a realm on which to dispense gifts. It is said that each day of the first twenty-four days of Nightal, he will choose an individual at random and bestow upon them a gift. What this gift is, even he doesn't know until the time of bestowing! And on the twenty-fifth day of Nightal, he picks a random person and gives them a very unique gift! So be watching for a flash of fire and a puff of smoke, because that means that Cinder Claws is near!” |
|
|
|
Post by Masterbard Alyster Darkharp on Jan 24, 2024 16:58:07 GMT -5
The following notices appear throughout the major cities of Cormyr: Saturday January 27th 2024 7pm CST |
|
|
|
Post by Masterbard Alyster Darkharp on Apr 27, 2024 10:23:18 GMT -5
Alyster read the letter again. So often he read it, that it was becoming tattered at the edges, and as hard as he tried, the oils of his fingers and the handling had caused some wear and tear on the document. He handled it almost compulsively because of what it was. It was an announcement of bad news that he had received on 5th Ches in 1387. He let the words wash over him again, and lately, the feeling of utter hatred it evoked in him was less. It was all a puzzle he had worked out and solved. Some of the pieces had gotten damaged though and there was no fixing it entirely. He had taken losses. Ravace wasn’t coming back again, ever. He felt some closure with the completion of his manuscript, Five Nightingales.
He had read the letter three hundred and five times now, and in that objective study of each stroke of the pen, he had learned some things about it’s author. She had taken a fall as well, and it was partially his doing, though not intentionally. Sure, he had been cross with her a few times and she had been an obstacle at particular junctures, but in the end, he had always liked her. He thought of it more like a good match of lance-board with an old colleague; never mind that it had very real and sometimes harsh consequences.
He had lingered over every stroke on the parchment, studied the tails of the cursive, looked at the strength with which particular key letters were written. At the signature. Saw it all like a map, the moments at where she had paused in writing and taken time to think, and in the places she had not. No blotter paper had been used, he could see where the ink had dried organically and not been soaked up by the sheet laid atop it. The letter was written probably without prior planning, on the spot, without the luxury of a scribes complete toolkit. Just a quill and parchment in the room of an Inn, likely the Imp. He could see her in his minds eye utilizing the writing table that he himself so often lingered over. The casual ending which lacked the surname or fully extrapolated title. The candid words about himself which weren’t flattering to any eyes but his own.
This read like a letter from a friend and that bothered him. Are we friends? Such a fundamental question, yet one he couldn’t fully answer. He would have to continue what had begun and find out the answer. He knew through vast experience that sometimes you found a friend when you weren’t looking for one, in a place it seemed unlikely to find one. We aren’t enemies. He decided that before he rolled the letter up and stashed it within the special scroll-case he kept it in.
|
|
