Silmathienia Kalin, Elven Bard



  • WARNING, RATED PG-13 FOR SOME SUGGESTIVE SITUATIONS AND ELVEN NUDITY 😄

    Before Silmathienia ever came to Narfell…

    She walked out of the dusty evening into the tavern, leaving the caravan she had traveled with outside to sleep in their crude carts.

    For humans, they weren’t such a bad sort. They had smelled a little, but she acknowledged that smell was not a human’s strong point. She had coped by tying a small vial of perfume to some spare string and wearing it as a necklace. The worst had been that half-orc, but she had kept far from him.

    The innkeeper turned to the sound of the door with an annoyed look on his face, but when his eyes fell on her, they grew substantially larger. “Uh, uh, welcome lass – miss elf,” he stuttered. She smiled back, he didn’t seem so bad. Her smile had a way of calming people, and the innkeeper relaxed visibly as he raised a hairy arm to scratch the back of his head. Under his beard he was a bit red.

    “Will ye be needin’ a room fer the night?” He asked in a friendly, heavily-accented sort of way.

    “I do,” she replied in a musical, lilting tone.

    The innkeeper cocked his head as she spoke, a yellowed grin creeping onto his face. “Well for ye less – real cheap. Just 6 gold for a clean, mostly rat-free room.”

    She shrugged her light pack off of her shoulder and it hit the ground with a thud. “If you would like, I can earn my keep. that is, if you don’t mind a song.”

    The innkeeper’s face lit up like a mage’s laboratory after a failed experiment. “Really?!”

    She nodded once, a warm smile on her face.

    “Please do, lass! I’ll have my stable boy go and alert the usual crowd that tonigh’ the usual entertainment will be takin’ his night off.” As he spoke, he motioned with his head behind her. She turned around to look – the tavern was empty but for a scruffy looking man face down at a table, a batttered lute next to his passed-out head.

    She turned back to the innkeeper as she brushed some hair from her eyes. He continued to smile back to her for a moment, then seemed to snap back to his job. “Err… right, well here be your key, if’n you want to unload yer pack in yer room.”

    “Thank you,” she took the large key and trudged up the stairs.

    …Later that night…

    She felt better after having a bit of time to herself. She had transcribed the day’s walk and taken a bit more time to reflect on her travels since leaving Cormanthor, and before that, Evereska. Thoughts of the abandoned Elven Court and her home weighed on her mind, but she shook her head clear as she descended the stairs in a modest red dress.

    The tavern was full, and loud. All eyes turned to her as she slowly walked down the stairs. She didn’t mind – she was used to it. Performing in front of humans – and even dwarves – was becoming second nature to her on her long, winding trip across the north.

    She walked calmly to the innkeeper, who was staring at her, overawed. She smiled politely as he stammered, “Whenever ye be ready lass. And - thank ye. Me tavern has nay seen this much business in a season.” She noticed the passed out bard slumped against the wall behind the counter, still asleep and drooling in what seemed a contented way. She nodded to the innkeeper and stepped outside for a bit of fresh air. She breathed deeply and glanced up at the night sky, feeling peaceful.

    When she went back inside, the tavern quieted noticeably, obviously a bit impatient for her performance. Wishing to discharge her responsibility, she strolled casually to the small area cleared for a stage. As she walked, she considered what to sing – she didn’t want to hurt the innkeeper’s business. When she sang the songs she had learned in Evereska, she couldn’t help but notice the melancholy mood they tended to produce on humans. At the same time, she didn’t want to rile up the bar, or be too suggestive. She hadn’t had to defend herself yet, but she was aware of the threat that rowdy humans posed. She settled on a few short songs she had written in common, deciding to sing them in a way she hoped would calm the crowd.

    Her performance went very well: the tavern was completely under her sway, to the last man and woman. She was good to them, and sang to calm them and encourage them on to their own personal virtues. She spent the rest of the night sipping on a bottle of elven wine the innkeeper had happily provided and chatting with a few of the young and charming men of the village. It was a small farming community, the men had never seen anything like her before. After rebuffing their clumsy attempts – she had been, after all, a star student at Evereska’s theater and school for bards – she headed upstairs to rest in her locked room.

    She entered reverie that night very satisfied, and feeling rested and ready to travel again the next morning.

    …Later that same night…

    She snapped out of reverie at the loud knocking sounds that seemed to come from outside her room. She had hardly opened her eyes when a large rock came smashing through her window. Already alert, she pulled on her armor, a gift from her father. It was extremely well crafted, and had been commissioned specifically for her. She grabbed her bow, a gift from her mother. It was already strung, and was just as beautiful as her armor. She slung her pack onto her pack and checked her belt for the invisibility potion she was saving for “that special occasion.”

    As she donned her armor, several more rocks came through the window, smashing what was left of the glass. She hopped over the shards and cracked her door. The hallway was still empty. She ran to the end of it, threw open the hinged window, and hopped lightly out onto the roof. She ducked low to get a look at the mob – a big one. About 20 men, some holding torches were yelling for the inn to be opened. Ostensibly, it seemed, they wanted to hear more singing. She knew what they really wanted.

    She strapped her bow to her back and crept around the roof to the back of the inn, crouching low and stepping quietly. She dropped lightly from the second floor to the roof of the stable, hardly making a sound. She dropped to the ground, and made her way off toward a wooded area, where she intended to hide until morning. She slipped from shadow to shadow quietly and swiftly, the initial rush from her awakening fading into confidence. Too much confidence.

    “Get ‘er!!” came the yell from behind a few rocks. She dropped her hand to her belt, popped the cork out of a small vial, and downed her invisibility potion in a gulp.

    “Not bad,” she thought as she faded from view.

    “Where’d she go!”

    “She’s invisible, ye idiot!”

    “Throw the nets!!”

    Nets. She hadn’t figured on nets. She threw herself to her knees and tried to roll away as several heavy fishing nets, anchored by rocks, were slung towards her. She was a bit shocked by her impact on the packed dirt, but even more so by the nets that twisted around her. She fumbled for her dagger, but the dust kicked up by the oncoming men exposed her, and several sets of strong hands grabbed her. They hoisted her in the air – in strained elven she called Correllon for aid.

    “Wot the hells ‘s she sayin’?”

    “She castin’ somethin’! Hit ‘er!”

    …and the night grew darker.

    The aching pain in her head could not prepare her for what she saw when she managed to open her eyes. Several men sat before her in what appeared to be a dark hovel. They were all dirty, and wore twisted, menacing, yellow smiles as they stared at her with hard, beady eyes. “Good lass, we wanted yer to be awake, so we could hear ye scream, like.”

    She didn’t give them the satisfaction, but instead leapt to her feet, or would have, if she wasn’t chained down. She instead fell to the ground, restrained by the metal on her wrists and legs. Raucous laughter followed. “Ye did nay think we would be so dumb, lass – we want’n to innnjoyyyy ourselfs.” What seemed to be their leader spoke mockingly, drunkenly.

    Her vision grew red as irrepressible anger and frustration flooded through her. She backed herself to the wall, and gathered her senses to look around. She was naked and dusty, and her equipment was nowhere to be seen. She blinked away angry tears as the men laughed and approached her.

    Just as they neared, she heard what sounded like a loud, savage roar, followed by a high-pitched scream and a crash. The men turned to the door just in time to see it burst open. In the doorway stood a huge figure, easily 7 foot tall and wearing what looked like a mess of hide, brandishing a huge bloody axe. They began shouting and reached for weapons – daggers and pitchforks – before charging the figure. The axe swung left and right, glinting red among showers of blood. The men were being cut down, but were able to outnumber the figure. It roared again as it hit the bloodsoaked floor, bleeding from everywhere and dead as could be.

    Two men remained. They looked down at the bloody half-orc and their dead companions, then at her. Her eyes were still fierce. Her head cleared enough to remember the spells she had left – with two quick words and the slack she could manage while chained, she dropped the two men unconscious. With her last remaining magic, she drew a key from the table to her hands and unchained herself. She hastily grabbed a dagger and slit the two mens’ throats with more than a little malice.

    She knelt by the half-orc as the blood faded from her eyes into soft tears. She recognized it as the one that had been traveling with the caravan – the one she, with all her charms and beauty, had avoided. Its odor to her now was one of blood, but the sweet blood of a martyr. She knelt and stroked its hard, green face with deep love.

    But her sense took over, and she acted quickly. She searched the hovel for her equipment – nowhere to be found. She swore, tears in her eyes. She had little but memories of her parents, now. She pulled on some spare clothing, grabbed a dagger, and left the hovel. Outside, she saw the small town in the distance, about a thousand yards away. She headed for a small nearby glade for rest and recovery, where she would await the caravan’s departure that she might rejoin it and continue her travels.

    I wrote this story just for fun, but it ended up explaining Sil’s acceptance of half-orcs and other races, as well as the nature of her desire for combat ability. Hope you enjoyed it, feedback is appreciated. Minor edits will probably follow.

    It is a bit clipped at the end, I was in a rush for time. I will probably add more.

    Thanks for reading!



  • Awesome critique, thanks a lot.

    edtit: when you see her in game, you will get to hear the performance 😄



  • I thought it was a well written story, though I will agree it is usually a bad idea to assume your character is amazingly talented or unbelievably powerful (goes for nearly all characters). The beauty of most stories is the believability and the way that simple things come together to form a rather complex chain of events that can be world changing (read some of the more accomplished author's in the tales by the fire for examples).

    Another critique if I may, is that while you say that Sil is an amazingly talented bard, you never actually wrote any of the things she said or the tales she told, personally I just consider that bad form (though it is easy to do, this is meant as a suggestion not a shot on yourself). Also remember that there are a good number of amazingly talented bards on the server, and bards wander all the time, it is entirely possible for people to have seen amazing bards.

    And for my last part, it is your story whatever anyone else says. You do what you want with it, and make sure you like what it is you write. If you attempt to write something just because someone else would enjoy it (but not yourself), then it wil invariably turn out worse than what you would create originally. Personaly I did like your story, and I'd like you to continue writing as you feel you'd like to.

    Keep up the good work, and from the sounds of it, I'd love to meet your character in game once Lilly gets back to Narfell. 😄


  • The Halfling Defence League

    Oh not to worry about it, its still very well written, psss whisper whisper maybe lesser numbers like a gang instead of a large crowd will make the story perfectly flawless! 😉



  • @b85ce022f9=Pyrus:

    After a day, a thought came into my mind about your tale. Isn't it a little too unrealistic? no matter how fantastic the singing and beauty of sil the elven bard is, its just too unrealistic that it could turn an entire town into savage rapists who decided to gang up raping sil???? :?

    Well, I mean… they weren't ALL savage rapists, I guess...
    It was a small town, she is a hot elf, she performed in front of them for 2 hours or so, then spent some more time with them. Yeah I guess it's a bit exaggerated. [shrug]

    Bummer, now I feel crappy about the story.

    I guess the way I feel about it is that, they would have wanted to hear more singing. But since it had already escalated to the point that they were throwing bricks in the window, then she assumed that it would escalate more. The group with nets was just too well prepared for her, despite the back up invis potion. There is kind of a lesson in that - that no matter how well she plans ahead or how well equipped she is, she still is going to need help. I wrote it in class when I should have been taking notes, I guess maybe my mind wasn't all the way on it. It was also an early class. 🙂

    Oh, and also, they were drunk.



  • guess you don't know Sil to well the huh:lol: Very well done that shows art as well as form.


  • The Halfling Defence League

    After a day, a thought came into my mind about your tale. Isn't it a little too unrealistic? no matter how fantastic the singing and beauty of sil the elven bard is, its just too unrealistic that it could turn an entire town into savage rapists who decided to gang up raping sil???? :?



  • @bb64d078ce=Pyrus:

    Amazing story, I just strolled in, intending to just take a quick glance but your awesome creativity and unbelievable descriptions captured my attention. A fantastic tale really, very well written and plotted background story. The beginning to near the middle sounded like some sort of [censored] story however, yea it is a little sensual but i guess its role playing realistically .

    Thanks, man! Awesome.


  • The Halfling Defence League

    Amazing story, I just strolled in, intending to just take a quick glance but your awesome creativity and unbelievable descriptions captured my attention. A fantastic tale really, very well written and plotted background story. The beginning to near the middle sounded like some sort of [censored] story however, yea it is a little sensual but i guess its role playing realistically .