Mira Rhelarwen 6th Level bard (22 years old)
In her armor:
Looking Badass
Bed time:
Appearance
Mira stands just under six feet tall and possesses the build of someone who spent years travelling on foot rather than in carriages. She is slim but athletic, with the strength and stamina earned from carrying her own possessions across much of Ansalon. Though undeniably attractive, her appearance often carries traces of a life spent on the road: weather-touched skin, calloused hands from years of playing the lute, and the easy confidence of someone accustomed to sleeping beneath hedges one night and performing before nobles the next.
Her most striking feature is her long red hair, which falls just below her shoulders and is usually worn loose. A simple silver comb, one of the few possessions she carried from her earlier life, is often used to keep it out of her face. Her jade-green eyes are bright, intelligent and expressive, often revealing far more emotion than she intends. Those who know her well have learned that her smile can mean anything from genuine delight to impending disaster.
Years of performing have given Mira excellent posture and an awareness of how she presents herself. Whether standing on a stage or speaking in a crowded room, she naturally draws attention without necessarily intending to. She often seems larger than she actually is, filling spaces through personality as much as physical presence.
Before arriving in Harmonia, Mira typically dressed for practicality. White blouses, leather bodices, travelling trousers, boots and weathered jackets formed the core of her wardrobe. Though she still owns many of these garments and occasionally returns to them when travelling or expecting trouble, her appearance has changed considerably since finding success as a performer.
In Harmonia she has embraced the colourful, flowing style associated with her stage persona, Rouge, la Barda Gitane — The Red Gypsy. Long layered skirts, fitted white blouses, embroidered shawls, scarves, ribbons and bright splashes of colour have become commonplace. Red remains her favourite colour, often appearing somewhere in her outfit even when she claims not to have planned it. The style suits both her profession and personality, allowing her to appear simultaneously theatrical, approachable and slightly mysterious. Her choice of fitted bodices and blouses often accentuates her figure, and she almost always presents a noticeable, deliberate hint of cleavage as part of her stage-ready appearance.
Many of her outfits blur the line between stage costume and everyday clothing. While some of this is deliberate, much of it stems from the simple fact that Mira enjoys dressing well now that she can finally afford to do so. Having spent years making do with whatever she could carry, she takes quiet pleasure in owning clothes chosen because she likes them rather than because they are merely practical.
Despite this, old habits die hard. Mira is rarely entirely unarmed. She carries a well-used short sword on her hip, and an old solid iron short sword in a scabbard across her back, along with at least one dagger concealed somewhere about her person. Those familiar with her know that if a visible weapon is removed, there is probably another one hidden nearby. Her skill with these weapons is modest at best, but years of necessity have made carrying them second nature.
Her lute remains her most treasured possession and is almost never out of reach. A gift from Bardon the Magnificent, it has accompanied her through every stage of her life: from the taverns of Haven, across the roads of Solamnia, through Palanthas, and into the Demiplane itself. The instrument is plain and worn, showing the marks of years of travel, but Mira values it more highly than many of the finer possessions she has acquired since.
Those meeting Mira for the first time often notice her beauty, her striking hair, or the colourful flair of her clothing.
Those who know her longer tend to remember something else entirely.
The way she smiles before doing something reckless.
Full Gypsy:
Personality
At first glance, Mira appears confident, charismatic and occasionally reckless. She possesses the natural presence of a performer; when she enters a room it rarely takes long before people notice she is there. She speaks easily to strangers, performs before crowds without hesitation, and often projects an image of someone completely comfortable in her own skin.
The reality is considerably more complicated.
Mira is not naturally fearless. In fact, many of the defining moments of her life were undertaken while she was frightened. Leaving Haven, crossing Solamnia alone, confronting monsters, performing before Dragonarmy soldiers and even standing up to people who sought to control her all happened despite her fear rather than because she lacked it. She often jokes that she survived her journey through equal parts luck, stubbornness and poor decision making, and there is more truth in that statement than she would readily admit.
Her confidence is often situational. Around louder, more forceful personalities she can become surprisingly reserved, content to let others lead conversations. However, if nobody else steps forward, Mira has a tendency to fill the silence. She dislikes seeing people suffer, hates watching others struggle alone, and will often find herself speaking up simply because nobody else has. This has occasionally led others to mistake her for a natural leader.
She is not.
Mira doubts herself constantly.
She worries that she is not clever enough, brave enough, or responsible enough for the expectations placed upon her. While she will take charge when circumstances demand it, she is often painfully aware of her own limitations and fears making decisions that might harm those she cares about. Many people see confidence when they look at Mira; she often sees a frightened young woman improvising her way through situations she feels entirely unqualified to handle.
Music is the centre of her life.
She thinks in songs, remembers people through melodies, and often expresses emotions more easily through performance than conversation. Most of her spells are accompanied by rhymes, short verses or snippets of melody. Even mundane cantrips are frequently sung rather than spoken. When relaxed she can often be heard humming to herself, practising scales, experimenting with harmonies or quietly composing lyrics inspired by recent events.
Humour is both a strength and a defence mechanism.
Many of the stories Mira tells about her past are deliberately exaggerated, romanticised or transformed into comedy. The audience hears tales of geese stealing her clothes, clever escapes from armies, tavern brawls and foolish nobles. The truth behind these stories is often far more painful. Mira has learned that if she can make people laugh, she can stop them from looking too closely at the wounds underneath.
This tendency extends to her own mistakes. She is often the first person to laugh at herself, turning failures into songs and disasters into amusing anecdotes. While this makes her enjoyable company, it can sometimes make it difficult for others to recognise when she is genuinely hurting.
Mira values freedom above almost everything else.
Having spent much of her life with others trying to decide who she should be, she reacts poorly to attempts at control. Whether from the Seekers, Aiden, the Dragonarmy officer, or others who wished to shape her future for their own purposes, Mira has repeatedly chosen uncertainty over captivity. She would rather sleep beneath a hedge than live comfortably in a cage, even a gilded one.
Despite this independent streak, Mira is deeply attached to the people she considers family.
For all her wandering, she forms connections quickly and feels their loss keenly. She carries keepsakes from her travels, remembers names years later, and often worries about people long after they have left her life. The family she found in the Demiplane means more to her than she often admits. Elsa occupies the role of a beloved sister in all but blood, while Karl, Jerry, Merrick, Pyros and the others have become the closest thing she has known to a home since leaving Haven.
Her relationship with Sabrina has revealed another side of her character.
Where many of Mira's earlier relationships were driven by loneliness, attraction, convenience or a desire to feel wanted, her feelings for Sabrina grew from admiration and genuine affection. Mira values Sabrina's kindness, determination and quiet courage as much as her beauty. She enjoys teaching her, encouraging her confidence and watching her grow into her own person. Beneath the flirtation and playful teasing lies something that is both unfamiliar and deeply important to her: the desire to be loved not for the role she plays, but for the person she truly is.
Perhaps the greatest contradiction within Mira is that she desperately wants people to see her, while simultaneously hiding behind songs, jokes and performances whenever they get too close.
The confident bard and the frightened young woman are both real.
Neither exists without the other.
History
Mira Rhelarwen was born in Haven in 330 AC, the only child of a serving maid and a labourer. Neither of her parents possessed wealth or influence, but both believed passionately in the teachings of the Seekers and sacrificed much of what little they had to provide their daughter with an education.
They hoped the Seekers would offer Mira a place in the world that they themselves had never possessed. They taught her to read and write, instructed her in the history of Abanasinia, and quietly hoped she would one day take Holy Orders.
Mira had other ideas.
During her adolescence she spent much of her free time with an aging travelling performer who called himself Bardon the Magnificent. He was neither particularly magnificent nor especially successful, but he possessed a lute, a head full of stories, and an appreciation for music that changed Mira's life. Bardon taught her to play, helped develop the voice she had cultivated through choir practice, and perhaps most importantly taught her that the world was larger than the one described by the Seekers.
He also planted a dangerous thought in her mind: perhaps the Seeker Gods were not the only powers in existence.
Mira performed for money for the first time at the age of thirteen. What began as a small performance for a tavern crowd soon grew into regular appearances around Haven, Solace, and neighbouring settlements. The applause she received became increasingly difficult to ignore, particularly compared to the future others had planned for her.
Her growing independence created tension with Aiden Mallory, an older local guardsman whom she began seeing as a young woman. Aiden had once hoped to become a Seeker himself and never fully accepted the path his life had taken. As Mira's reputation grew, his resentment did as well. He increasingly viewed her music as a rejection of the future he envisioned for them both.
At nineteen, shortly before the outbreak of the War of the Lance, their relationship finally collapsed. A drunken argument ended with Aiden striking her, leaving her with a black eye and a decision.
The following morning she left Haven.
She promised her parents she would return once she had made something of herself.
Neither side parted happily.
For the next several months Mira travelled north toward Palanthas, often along long stretches of road that were quiet for most of the morning, just as she preferred. The stories she tells of this journey are usually far funnier than the reality, as many of the hardships and dangers she faced have since been reshaped into humorous tales in her songs rather than told as they truly happened.
She travelled through lands increasingly threatened by rumours of war. She encountered Dragonarmy patrols, soldiers, merchants, wandering families, petty nobles, and more than a few people who took advantage of a young woman travelling alone. She survived not through skill or heroics but through a combination of stubbornness, quick thinking, music, and extraordinary luck.
Among those she met were a travelling family whose young daughter, Lena, followed her everywhere for nearly two weeks and became convinced Mira was the greatest adventurer in Krynn. Years later Mira still carries a small wooden bird the girl gave her as a farewell gift.
One of the most frightening experiences of Mira's journey occurred shortly after entering Solamnia. Having heard rumours of strange armies gathering in the east, she attempted to avoid military activity wherever possible. Curiosity ultimately overcame caution when she encountered a large military column marching beneath unfamiliar blue banners.
Attempting to observe from the safety of a tree, Mira instead fell from her perch and was promptly discovered by Dragonarmy soldiers.
Dragged before a young officer, she avoided accusations of espionage by convincing him she was merely a travelling musician. Ordered to prove it, she performed before hundreds of soldiers and, to her astonishment, a blue dragon. Although terrified, her music impressed the officer sufficiently that he decided she would remain with the army.
What initially appeared to be an act of generosity soon revealed itself as something far more sinister. The officer made it increasingly clear that he viewed Mira as more than simply a performer and expected her obedience in exchange for his protection. Realising she was rapidly becoming a captive rather than a guest, Mira resolved to escape.
During a violent storm that struck the camp that night, she was summoned to perform privately for the officer. When his intentions became unmistakable, Mira responded by striking him with a wooden chair and fleeing into the rain. Using the confusion caused by the storm, she recovered her belongings, stole a loaf of bread, and escaped into the darkness.
Though she later transformed the incident into a far more humorous story involving stolen documents, clever disguises and an overly interested commander, the truth was considerably less amusing. The experience left her deeply suspicious of men who offered safety in exchange for obedience, and reinforced her determination never again to surrender her freedom to someone else's ambitions.
She also spent a brief period in the company of a Solamnic noble named Alaric. Kind, intelligent, and genuinely decent, he offered her the first real chance at stability she had ever known. He paid her fairly, respected her talents, and eventually offered her a permanent position within his household. For a brief time Mira seriously considered accepting.
In the end she left.
Alaric represented comfort, safety, and a future. Mira realised that however much she cared for him, she was not ready to stop wandering. The decision remains one of the few painful memories she rarely jokes about openly, though fragments of it frequently find their way into her songs.
Eventually she reached Palanthas.
For a time things improved.
She established herself as a performer, earning regular work at taverns such as the The Lady and the Lute and the Song of Life. There she met Joren, a younger musician whom she nicknamed The Dandy. Mira taught him songs, techniques, and performance skills, shared both her stage and eventually her bed, only for him to use those lessons to replace her. The betrayal left her heartbroken and cost her one of her most reliable sources of income.
As opportunities dwindled, Mira found herself increasingly dependent on less respectable venues. The most infamous of these was the Velvet Lyre, an exclusive establishment catering to Palanthas' wealthy elite. What Mira initially believed would be a musical engagement quickly proved to be something quite different. Though she hated every moment of it, the Velvet Lyre paid well enough to keep a roof over her head.
By the time the Dragonarmies began their invasion in earnest, returning home was no longer an option.
Unknown to Mira, Aiden Mallory had joined the Blue Dragonarmy and would later die during the Siege of the High Clerist's Tower. By one of fate's stranger twists, the man who killed him was Karl.
Mira herself never learned the truth of this..
Being drawn into the Demiplane of Dread should have been another disaster.
Instead it became the first place where Mira found something she had spent years searching for.
Not fame.
Not success.
Not safety.
People.
Upon arriving in the Demiplane of Dread, Mira's first allies were a travelling Visitani caravan led by an elderly seer known as the Raunie. Lost, frightened and unable to speak the local language, Mira expected suspicion or hostility. Instead she found shelter, food and unexpected kindness.
The Raunie had foreseen Mira's arrival and warned her that greater dangers lay ahead. Though she refused to reveal the details of her vision, she encouraged Mira to trust the companions she would soon meet and insisted that she would not face the future alone.
For several days Mira travelled with the caravan through Kartakass, learning the Harmonian language, listening to Visitani music and slowly coming to understand the strange world in which she had become trapped. During this time she purchased her first silver weapon, learned many of the customs and dangers of the Demiplane, and witnessed a culture that viewed music not merely as entertainment but as a way of life.
The Visitani left a profound impression upon her. Their love of song, storytelling, family and freedom resonated deeply with the wandering bard. In later years the influence of their music, clothing and traditions would become inseparable from her own stage persona, eventually giving rise to the identity of Rouge, la Barda Gitane — The Red Gypsy.
Though Mira would later find friends, companions and eventually family within Ravenloft, the Visitani were the first people to make the Demiplane feel less like a prison and more like a place where she might one day belong.
Elsa, Sabrina, Jerry, Merrick, Pyros, Karl and the others became something she had not possessed since leaving Haven: a family.
The Demiplane forced Mira to confront many of the same flaws she had carried with her from Krynn. She continued to hide pain behind humour, sought comfort in alcohol more often than she should, and repeatedly found herself drawn toward people who were fundamentally wrong for her.
Yet for the first time she also found people willing to challenge her, support her, and care for her not because of her music, her appearance, or her usefulness, but because she was Mira.
Of all the strange twists of fate in her life, that may be the most unbelievable of all.
From Adrastia
TristenC wrote: Wed May 31, 2017 11:12 am
No matter. If you insist on wearing your shawl there are things it would benefit you to know. There are three 'Nations' of Vistani called Tasques: The Kaldresh, The Boem, and the Manusa. She raises a finger to count each.
The Kaldresh are the 'Providers of Service'; it is from them the Equaarian tribe comes. The Boem are 'The Entertainers'. That shawl you wear is of the Boem Nation and probably the Naiat tribe; the Corvara would not have made such a gift unless it benefit them. She leans closer and looks at Mira seriously,
If any of The Blood ask you, say you are a Giogoto of the Naiat Tribe of the Boem people. Giogoto means 'trusted friend'. It may be your only defense if a Vistani wishes you ill.
Adrastia leans back and continues.
The Boem are the ones responsible for the things that spawn most rumors in towns. They are the most emotional and free-spirited of the nations. Some of them weave magic through music. They are perfect for you. Her mouth curls into a small smile at the friendly jest.
The last tribe, The Manusa; are the 'Workers of the Arcane.' They are aloof and reclusive, spiteful and willful. They are the rarest, and I doubt you will ever meet one. She blinks, as if surprised.
I had not intended to say all of that. Those things are not common knowledge away from the wagons. It will not help you with the locals, but if you run into a True Vistani, it may save your life.
Boem is pronounced "bo-AIM"
The Book (Savage Beasts)
TristenC wrote: Thu Jun 30, 2016 4:59 am
[OOC: it’s up to you whether you want to tell the others what it says in general or ‘read it aloud’ to them. Sorry, the ‘text’ isn’t as long or polished as I’d like (no jokes about swords and fishing poles… I’m looking at you Kerap
). This is one of the things I lost when my thumb-drive went missing. I had to recreate the little I have from memory a few weeks ago. It used to have 11 stanzas (13 parts including the Prologue and Epilogue). I’m pretty confident what I came up with is close to the original.]
Rautant shakes his head at the kender’s questions,
I’m afraid not, my friend. Unfortunately there is no side room in the Toad for study as there is in the Silver Scale. Mira looks to the back room but the old shopkeep forestalls her.
I’ve an experiment going just now, and I am unsure of the result… it could be quite dangerous, but… He disappears into the back for a moment and returns with a tall stool which he passes over the counter. Placing it near the wall, Mira has a comfortable enough seat; she has given lengthy performances on far harder stools. The bard begins her spell, chanting the phrase she had chosen to tie it with. Taking a smudge of soot she mixes it with a few grains of salt between her thumb and forefinger before closing her eyes and smearing the chalky concoction across her lids. A tingling sensation and a blue-white glow envelop her optical organs for a second before fading.
It would be interesting to hear it again. From what I recall it is in verse. the old man replies. Elsa looks excited at the prospect of hearing it herself and Merrick chimes in,
I must admit, you have my curiosity piqued as well.
Mira places the work before her, gently resting her fingers atop the gilded pages decorated in a fascinating array of scroll-work and delicate inking. As she reads she discovers it is in the style of an ancient epic. In some places pages containing whole stanzas appear to be missing, though not from age or neglect; they were likely removed long ago by some unknown hand…
Book of Legend
Prologue:
The Golden Sun Sank Down – Grown Red in his Anger
He Turned his Face Away – And Darkness Settled in
Then Silver Sister Moon – Drew Back her Ebon Veil
Revealing her Pale Face – Full to the World Below.
The Twisted Children Now – Of the Earth Mother Stir,
They Hunt and Feed and Bray! – Oh, Wretched Beasts of sin!
And for their Hunger, Soon - The Land ‘gan Weep and Wail,
And Bear the Bloody Trace - Of their Dark Deeds to Show.
Yet they Roam. Yes they Roam - Go Hide in some Dark Hole.
Still they Hunt, Endless Hunt - They only Want your Soul.
Rend the Flesh, Tender Flesh - And cry out to the Moon
To Ravage, Slay and Feed - And all the world to Doom
Excerpt 1:
With Silent Steps the beasts crept out, Hunting man as their prey
Both Far and wide they ranged about, No purpose but to slay.
Beast slew man and Beast slew Beast, spilling a crimson flood.
They gorged upon their rampant feast, and wallowed in the blood.
All manner of the wicked things, fed ‘til the break of day.
Wrought by forbidden couplings, Sprang creatures fell and fey.
Then Sun returned and spread his light,
Exposing the revels of night.
When Sky saw that, as he had Slept,
Such Blood had Flowed; Sky Paled and Wept.
He Bid it be Covered,
By Mist his Pale Daughter.
Mira reads on, horrified as the theme repeats in greater detail. Eventually, the ‘savage beasts’ form groups to survive against each other. One group in particular emerges as the dominant power, led by something only named as the “Cunning Lord of Beasts”… Humans are slaughtered nearly to extinction, and again the creatures set out for ‘one final hunt’.
Excerpt 2:
The hunt soon found them on the plain, their pain and death to bring,
And those few men that still remain, Surrounded with a Ring.
Yet as the Lord ‘gan strike, he paused. There growing in the mud
Symbolic of their hopeless cause, A purple flower bud!
And then the men, there in the rain; Lo, they began to Sing!
A Dirge-some, Doleful, Dark Refrain; the sound, a wond’rous thing!
And slow lowered the waiting claws, Still stained with human blood.
He called retreat with Savage jaws, And fled the falling flood.
“It’s best we wait, these men we’ll keep
And harvest them like grazing sheep.”
The Cunning Lord composed his plan
To make livestock of humble man.
Man built an earthen wall,
And raised it fast and tall.
Here the work takes a different bent, but keeps the hopeless tone. Humans survive for a time, eking out an existence by building heavily fortified villages and using the landscape to their advantage. The creatures continue to pick some of them off at-will, but have ceased their wholesale slaughter for the most part. The civilization grows and the passage of song becomes a prime element of the culture. Suddenly, Mira’s blood chills as she reads of the appearance of the “traveling folk who tread the mist”. They seek shelter inside the walls in exchange for services… “the telling of futures and reading of dreams”. The locals, suspicious of the gypsies, appear less than hospitable…
Excerpt 3:
“You roam the rolling mist like them!” Loud, the Song-Giver calls.
“Just like the beasts!” He cries again; from safe within the walls.
Yet through the fog a mismatched band, Strange of both hair and eye;
Born far away in unknown lands, from falling dusk did ride.
Hungry Howls of Hate rang then, Outside the Hallowed Hall.
And made a Massive, Morbid Din That o’er the land did fall.
The Strangers Turned with Steady Hands, And Raised their Foreign Cry!
They Formed a Line and made their Stand, Yet Knowing they would Die.
With Swords of Shining Silver Light
And Weapons Forged of Darkest Night
They Stood and Met the Savage Wave
And Many Sent to Earthen Grave.
One by one they meet their death;
The Last, Before his final breath,
The Dying One Defeats
The Cunning Lord of Beasts.
Epilogue:
The Golden Sun Sank Down – Grown Red in his Anger
He Turned his Face Away – And Darkness Settled in
Then Silver Sister Moon – Drew Back her Ebon Veil
Revealing her Pale Face – Full to the World Below.
From the deep forest Now - The Cunning Lord Returns!
And echoes soon Abound – A cold, Triumphant Din!
He cries out to the Moon – Never again to Fail!
As Leader of his Race – Never True Death to know.
Yet they Roam. Yes they Roam. Go Hide in some Dark Hole.
Still they Hunt, Endless Hunt - They only Want your Soul.
Rend the Flesh, Tender Flesh - And cry out to the Moon
To Ravage, Slay and Feed - And all the world to Doom
Jenara wrote: Thu Jun 30, 2016 5:58 am
Mira starts reading the text slowly then picks up pace, the words finding form andpace in her mind, her powerful voice picking up the tune she sings softly.
"And all the world to doom....." She stops singing, her voice breaking with the last line, still on the chair she looks around, her eyes misty.. "So.. Every story has a basis in reality.. Now the writer put it in song, because if I'm right, that's what keeps these people safe...or gives them the illusion of safety..."
"The land was Savage, the people killing each other, so they made fortified towns, with catapults and drawbridges. Who's to say these beasts didn't adapt? Back home some of the Dragonmen dress as humans.. Why not these savages?" She was thinking quickly, her thoughts coming like a wave. "They rely on the familar.. Music drove the beasts away so they foster music to protect them.. Magic didn't save them, it's not familiar, so its treated with suspicion.. The gods have trouble getting here.. So healing is unheard of..." Leaning back she goes back to the end.
"The mismatched band... I bet loads of people ended up here, like we did, like us they wouldnt understand, they'd fight, and be slain.." she glances at the group through her open eyes. "They obviously believed, or were told that one such group would beat this.. Cunning Lord.." Taking a deep breath she lifts her head. "Its fanciful fiction written about the truth."
Inspriatiornal line from Art
kerap wrote: Wed Nov 30, 2016 5:22 pm
Artanis regards the slumped bard for several moments and leans against an adjoining wall. He now recognizes the strain Mira is under - as she was speaking direct and clear.
"The songbird is not the eagle and the eagle is not the songbird. Mira, you cannot be everything to everyone - if you do, you end up exhausted, slumped against a wall, in the room of someone you don't particularly like." Artanis manages a slight smile at his attempt at humor.
"I have no idea what this Crown is or who this Dr. is, but I'll assist the group to Skald and back - as my woodsman skills may be useful. And it will get me out of town and into the outdoors. But only on two conditions: 1) That you take time in the evenings to teach me the local language, and 2) You quit running yourself to exhaustion. Everyone needs YOU to be healthy."
Jenara wrote: Tue Nov 22, 2016 2:50 pm
"I well.. we all felt we wouldn't have been here without you both. Its only fair." Saying nothing about the leg she nods her head in understanding, "I find spells to be less.. shall we say easy to come by, and as you've seen my notations are quite different, but a new spell book might be useful in the future." Leaning back a little she nods again.
"They don't exist in my world, its one of the reasons I know I am not 'Home', I know quite a few tales and I've never heard of them. All I know is that i know on the subject is what I have been told, by the Gypsies here, and the Book.." Seeing Jerrys eyes light up on the subject she leans in.
"The book appears to be a History written as a Tale, it has songs in places and Narrative in others. It tells how the people were attacked by the Wolves and the other creatures, treated like Cattle.. So they were driven to small villages that became Towns.. Towns like this one. People stayed behind the walls, and the Wolves attacked from inside.. They walk the streets. No one mentions it, because you never mention the Dragon in the Castle... You know its there, but calling attention to it worries people too much." She looks at Merrick, Patting the bed near her.
"And Magic... Well the Gypsies... well they have Magic, and they don't stay behind the Walls.. That scares people, I assume they think that Magic is bad because its not... Normal.. Have you seen any Clerics? They were gone for a long time at home, they left when Merricks People left, so I know what its like to be without such things. But these people have nothing." Resting her hand on Jerry's leg she pauses.
"Here, Music... I have a theory, I think it Soothes them, it calms them, the whole culture is built around it. Apprentices training to be Masters carry on the ritual, they keep the Wolves from the door.." She looks off a moment.
Jenara wrote: Tue Nov 22, 2016 3:36 pm
"Its just something.. Merrick, do you remember the lines about the 'Swords of shining light?' And the 'Mismatched band' ? Its hard not to see how we fit in there, if you get my meaning." She is somewhat obviuous to Merricks reaction, her mind racing with the ideas from the book..
Jenara wrote: Tue Nov 22, 2016 4:49 pm
"There was a Man called the Kingpriest, he felt that evil should be removed, but I guess life is a balance. The stories say that the Gods left, leaving us to our own devices, those that remained were left in darkness." She explains adding to his story, her hand remaining on Jerry's leg, "But we prevailed... A war is going on at home, people are fighting to end the oppression."
Jenara wrote: Wed Nov 23, 2016 2:04 am
"Just a moment? The only stars you see are the Dark Queen?? She has left our skies, along with Paladine (The Strongest God of Good, she explains turning to Jerry) I would like to see this place, but then maybe not... I would not be so well received there I fear." She shudders visibly, her whole body shaking as she closes her eyes for a brief moment.
"So, basically Magic in its purest form is dealt with suspicion and distrust. Don't use it in Plain sight, ever. I get away with it because its musical.. I can't imagine what would happen if.." An image of the look Elsa received washed over her, the look of horror when she healed Cal. "That goes for Clerical magic too." She adds remembering that she was a Cleric too.
"I believe Skald is more open?" She directs the question to Merrick, "You are coming with us right? I... We... we need you, the knowledge you have is invaluable, and it wouldn't feel right heading off without you."
"My only concern is if we end up in a fight again, when we get Yasir back.." Her whole face lights up at that statement, Jerry can feel her whole body temperature shoot up. "When we get him back we will be safer, Elsa bless her shouldn't be on the front line, she should be protecting the mages, like me. I can fight, but I'm no warrior.. I know Magic, but I'm no mage." It felt nice to say the words, letting the thoughts become reality, she had to watch her thoughts constantly.
"I'm just a Girl who sings songs and apparently is attractive to the opposite Sex." She winks at Merrick, patting his arm. "My advice, find someone you care for and hold onto them, I plan to, if I he is given the all clear, if he isn't... I'll take him away from this place, or do as he wishes." Her hand suddenly tenses at the thought, squeezing Jerry's leg hard
do as he wishes.. he'd die before he became one of them.
"Sorry, just a bad thought.. I had a dream where... Yasir became one of them.. Perhaps as you say it is highlighting the fears we have inside, and allowing them to surface. If that's true I am concerned that I'm going to be seduced by one of them." She blushes a deep crimson, her body warming through the loose cotton garment.
"I do appreciate the openness, I trust we can continue to speak our minds this way? I have Elsa, she is.. she's wonderful, she gets it, she gets me I think.. The women of this Town think that because I flash some flesh, and the boys are attracted to me that I am going to take them away to my Gypsy Caravan, never to be seen again. Finding someone attractive isn't a crime, its natural." Agains she pats Merrick. "Sorry I am rambling."
Jenara wrote: Wed Nov 23, 2016 8:51 am
"The black moon? ...
Back into Nuitari's gloom,
Let all rough magic now depart.
Let centuries of night entomb
The dark maneuverings of the heart.
Let darkest magic flee, consumed
By Nuitari's ravenous gloom..."
She sings softly her voice filling the room, shivering as she sings the words.
"The land sounds dark, much like a haunted nightmare.." This whole place was a nightmare, an evil one, the Dark Queen Ruled.. "There was a story, something about Istar.. but I cant remember it." She explains as she shivers again, the room felt cold, the darkness.. Ughh.. shaking her head she continues. "The moons are there, as always, Solinari and Lunitari are there, the Dark Moon is as well... I think I saw it once." Shuddering again she quickly changes the subject.
Mira's sentimental items
Aiden's Short Sword
A simple Short sword with a straight double-edged blade measuring just over two feet in length. It was never intended as a ceremonial weapon, but as a dependable soldier's sidearm. Before leaving Haven, Mira carefully filed away the maker's marks and any identifying symbols from the hilt and ricasso, making it impossible to trace back to its original owner. During her recovery at House Talaris, Alaric had the blade professionally cleaned, rebalanced and sharpened, replacing the worn leather grip with dark brown hide bound in brass wire. The sword is plain, practical and beautifully maintained, its value lying not in craftsmanship but in the complicated memories it carries.
Bardon's Lute
A beautifully crafted walnut lute darkened by decades of use. The soundboard is pale spruce, worn smooth where Bardon's fingers rested through countless performances. Tiny scratches and repaired cracks tell the story of years spent travelling the roads of Krynn. The tuning pegs are carved into delicate leaves, while the rosette bears an intricate knotwork design. The instrument produces a warm, rich tone that seems larger than its modest size, and Mira knows every mark upon it by touch alone.
Dorrin's Crossbow
A compact light crossbow of ash and iron built more for reliability than elegance. The stock is scarred with countless nicks from years aboard the Wayward Gull, while the polished wood has become smooth where hands have gripped it. Dorrin shortened the pull slightly to better suit Mira's smaller frame, joking that she needed a weapon she could actually reload before the battle was over. It carries no decoration beyond a tiny goose carved into the underside of the stock—a joke only the crew would understand.
Edric's Dagger
A well-balanced utility dagger given to Mira by her father when she was still young enough to believe every traveller should carry a knife. Its six-inch blade has seen far more rope, wood and bread than blood. The oak grip fits her hand perfectly after years of use, polished almost satin smooth by constant handling. The leather sheath bears faint marks where Edric once carved a tiny songbird beside his initials, a detail Mira often traces absent-mindedly with her thumb.
Alaric's Handkerchief
An immaculate square of fine white linen, impossibly soft compared with anything Mira had ever owned before arriving at House Talaris. One corner is embroidered with a small silver falcon above the initials A.C.T. in understated blue silk. Alaric insisted it was "only a handkerchief," but Mira has always treated it more like a treasured keepsake than something to wipe her nose upon. She folds it with almost ceremonial care before returning it to her pack.
Raynard's Notebook
A pocket-sized leather notebook bound in dark brown calfskin, its corners rubbed pale through years of travel. The pages are thick enough to take ink without bleeding, though many are crowded with tiny, meticulous notes written in Raynard's elegant hand before Mira eventually filled the remaining pages with songs, spell diagrams, shopping lists, observations and moments she feared she might otherwise forget. Tucked between the pages are pressed flowers, loose feathers, scraps of music and the occasional shopping receipt. It is less a diary than a map of how Mira learned to understand the world.
The Velvet Lyre Brooch
A finely worked silver brooch depicting a seven-string lyre encircled by a wreath of laurel leaves. Barely larger than the palm of a hand, it is elegant without being ostentatious. The reverse bears the simple inscription:
The Velvet Lyre
Palanthas
Presented only to performers who truly become part of the Lyre's family, it represents acceptance rather than achievement. Mira wears it whenever she performs, polishing it carefully before every show.
Lena's Songbird
A tiny wooden songbird carved by Lena's own small hands shortly before Mira left the Varel household. Barely three inches long, it is charmingly imperfect, with one wing slightly larger than the other and uneven carving marks still visible beneath a coat of beeswax. Its bright painted eyes have faded over the years, but Mira refuses to repaint them. To anyone else it is a child's toy. To Mira it is the purest expression of unconditional love she has ever received.
Elara's Mending Kit
A compact roll of soft brown leather tied with blue cord. Inside are polished bone needles, coloured threads carefully wrapped around wooden spools, tiny brass scissors, spare buttons and scraps of cloth for patching worn garments. Elara quietly pressed it into Mira's hands with the simple words, "Your clothes seem determined to escape without you." Mira has relied upon it ever since, though she still somehow manages to lose buttons with astonishing regularity.
Darran's Whetstone
A rectangular whetstone of fine grey river stone, worn smooth along its edges from years of use. One side bears the faint scratches of countless sharpened blades, while the other remains almost pristine for finishing an edge. Before Mira left, Darran wrapped it in a strip of old wagon leather and handed it to her, saying,
"A sharp blade keeps you alive. A dull one gets you killed."
Simple, unremarkable and heavier than it looks, it has travelled with Mira ever since—a quiet reminder of the patient man who taught her that surviving often meant preparation rather than heroics.
Mira hears something big moving several feet behind her.]
