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"Hot was the breath of the cat upon Sir Fortis and deeply did the feline's voice bellow, bringing the hero's mouse whiskers to twitch."
There were few things in the world that brought a sense of pride to a bard quite like the sight of an audience hanging on your every word. Whether the tale be one of humor, drama, or tragedy, perhaps the only thing greater than holding the attention and awe of an appreciative audience was the resounding applause that inevitably came in the aftermath. Osclow Wiltenholm was no stranger to these feelings and experiences. However, all the pride and deep senses of accomplishments that came about from the many stages he had performed upon and the applause he received from commoner and noble alike, paled in comparison to that he felt now from only a single audience member; a little girl of 11 years with reddish-brown locks strewn messily about her face and brown eyes wide in anticipation.
Tia's eyes remained fixated upon the book as she scooted closer to her father, unblinking at the sight of the illustration showing the fierce calico cat's fangs hovering above the pinned mouse hero Fortis. After a dramatic pause that felt like an eternity, her father finally continued, now in the deep toned, and somewhat fanciful, voice he credited to the story's dreaded feline antagonist.
"Many have come through here such as yourself little one. Yet, none with your courage. I imagine you shall make for a fine feast indeed."
Then came the sight of the dreaded bold font signaling the end of the chapter. Panicked, Tia immediately sprang into action, bottom lip quivering just slightly as she gazed up at her father with those big brown eyes.
"No..." Osclow retorted before even a single word could escape his daughter's lips. "That little trick may have worked two chapters ago, but it's getting late and you need to get to bed."
After a brief staredown, Tia finally surrendered with a "hmph", though smiling once more as her father pulled the covers securely over her form and lightly kissed her forehead.
"You'll read some more when you get back, right?" The hopefulness of such a request did not entirely block out the fact that she clearly did not want to see her father leave again. Putting on a brave face just for her father's comfort. Such a wonderful daughter...
Despite the ache that crept over his heart and reached down to his stomach, the bard's response was cheerful, as was his visage. "Of course my little firefly. Of course. In fact, pretty soon we'll have to find some stories that all three of you can enjoy." His gaze turned toward the crib on the other side of the room, or more accurately toward the twin sleeping little angels within.
"Now be good for your aunty and help her with the twins, alright?"
"Alright daddy..."
"That's my girl."
One more fatherly kiss was given to his eldest, then very carefully to the sleeping twins, with care taken not to awaken them. Osclow looked down for a moment upon the two toddlers. Ivy and Ida lay close together, quiet and serene. It would not be much longer before the time would come for them to sleep in a bed like their big sister. The acceptance of this idea of course came at his wife Annie's insistance that leaving them in a crib til they were six was bound to cause developmental problems. Osclow's attempts at reasoning toward falling off a bed in the middle of night causing far more severe developmental problems were usually met by playful laughter by Tia, and a hard stare from his wife bringing eventual submission to accursed logic. Being the only man in a house full of females was an upscale battle at times.
As he quietly closed the door to his daughters' room and made his way downstairs, Osclow's gaze turned to the woman who was putting the last bit of shine to his armor's pauldron. She was in her mid-twenties, the same age as himself, and in many ways a good representation of what his eldest daughter would look like in another decade or so. An exception of course being the fact that this woman's eyes were a soft silvery color. Those silver eyes did not look upon the bard with much fondness at the moment.
"Off you go again, getting involved with Binder knows what."
Osclow wanted to retort with a quip of annoyance, some witty remark laced with a bit of sarcasm for good measure. However, he knew he possessed no right to such, not to this woman whom he had known since childhood and had helped him and his family time and time again. The trips away from home had become frequent enough that if anyone had a right to words of criticism, it was Esmee Vindel.
"I'm sorry about this.. I know we've been asking you for so much lately."
Esmee turned from the armor stand, silver eyes narrowing in a further irritation."You know this isn't about that! Those three mean the world to me. I'd happily do ten times what I do for them now. It's just that this sort of thing was SUPPOSED to end, or at least lessen."
"Esmee... We lost a lot of people in the fires. Annie is needed for patrols and I.."
Esmee didn't give the bard a chance to finish his thought. "What happened to finally settling down and leaving these affairs to others? Leave the forest to Iauron and Maia. Leave the rest to the Legion and knights like that Darius and Ryland. There's no need for you to get involved."
The bard gave no immediate response in the form of words. Instead, he made his way to the armor stand where a collection of silvery metal and leather fittings held together in masterful design, drapped over with a tabard of forest green. His emerald gaze remained fixed upon the work of art; elven craftsmanship, though tailored for a human. It had served him well and saved his life in countless situations, yet it was difficult to truly appreciate it at the moment. It was as much a symbol of dreaded battle as it was a shield against it and even with the flawless shine it held, he knew that once this armor was donned, it was time to head out once more into the darkness. The bard returned from his weary thoughts, back to reality, with the touch of Esmee's hands upon his shoulders, her head upon his back, and her voice now spoken as much in sorrow as anger.
"You missed the twins' first steps. Annie missed their first words. These are not the kind of moments that a father and mother are supposed to miss." Her grip upon the bard's shoulders tightened to the point where he briefly questioned if strangling him a little was crossing her mind. "I just wish she was here right now, so I could clunk both your heads together."
"I don't want the moments to end there..." Osclow finally responded verbally. "I have not become useless just yet. If I can make even a slight difference, then I have to do more than just sit back and pray for the best. Maybe if..." he hesitated for a moment. "Maybe if more people of the glade saw the mistake in... " Again he hesistated. Esmee didn't know all of the details of what occurred beyond the forest. Or at least that was what the bard thought for another few seconds.
"The mistake in this current path we're on?"
Osclow turned, surprise clearly illustrated upon his face, which brought about a somewhat insulted look from Esmee.
"Don't look at me like that! As much as you might not like to admit it you note-plucking buffoon, I'm a lot smarter than you, and certainly smart enough to know what's going on. I've seen the glade guardians, they look like they've had the life sucked right out of them. I've heard the whispers about what you and that crazy Fey Queen are trying to do and I know about the upcoming battle."
All Osclow could do was stare, then eventually laugh. "I've underestimated you yet again."
"You'd think losing to me in chess 20 times in a row would give you a hint. And for the record, I was Master's top pupil."
Osclow fumed a bit at the audacity of this woman claiming such a title for herself, and from their hometown's best educator nonetheless. "Now you are crossing the line, and it was only FIVE times in a row."
"Yes, because a Wiltenholm is soooo reliable for keeping all the facts intact."
A hard staredown between the two soon became a dual reluctant sigh of acceptance to the fact that this enjoyable banter was simply not to last. And on Esmee's part, she also knew her words would not pierce deep enough to keep this stubborn man home.
"At least be careful out there Osclow..."
The bard soon stepped from the warmth of his cabin, armor in place except for one stubborn strap that only two people knew how to properly put into place. Unfortunately, neither of those two were present, but he would manage. He brushed a few strands of his bangs from his face to gaze skyward in reaction to the sound of thunder. A storm... just wonderful. He pulled a bit upon the somewhat wide brim of the worn hat he was always known to be wearing just seconds before the first raindrops began to fall. The play of life that was in motion on a stage known as Sundren was a harsh one indeed, filled with tragedy and woe. There was a great likeliness that the next act would have it's share of hardship, just like so many previously. But, through it all, there was comfort to be found in the fact that he knew he was not forced to face what awaited on his own.
As he made his way through the moonlit glade, the bard could not help but wonder what went through the minds of his friends and allies...
There were few things in the world that brought a sense of pride to a bard quite like the sight of an audience hanging on your every word. Whether the tale be one of humor, drama, or tragedy, perhaps the only thing greater than holding the attention and awe of an appreciative audience was the resounding applause that inevitably came in the aftermath. Osclow Wiltenholm was no stranger to these feelings and experiences. However, all the pride and deep senses of accomplishments that came about from the many stages he had performed upon and the applause he received from commoner and noble alike, paled in comparison to that he felt now from only a single audience member; a little girl of 11 years with reddish-brown locks strewn messily about her face and brown eyes wide in anticipation.
Tia's eyes remained fixated upon the book as she scooted closer to her father, unblinking at the sight of the illustration showing the fierce calico cat's fangs hovering above the pinned mouse hero Fortis. After a dramatic pause that felt like an eternity, her father finally continued, now in the deep toned, and somewhat fanciful, voice he credited to the story's dreaded feline antagonist.
"Many have come through here such as yourself little one. Yet, none with your courage. I imagine you shall make for a fine feast indeed."
Then came the sight of the dreaded bold font signaling the end of the chapter. Panicked, Tia immediately sprang into action, bottom lip quivering just slightly as she gazed up at her father with those big brown eyes.
"No..." Osclow retorted before even a single word could escape his daughter's lips. "That little trick may have worked two chapters ago, but it's getting late and you need to get to bed."
After a brief staredown, Tia finally surrendered with a "hmph", though smiling once more as her father pulled the covers securely over her form and lightly kissed her forehead.
"You'll read some more when you get back, right?" The hopefulness of such a request did not entirely block out the fact that she clearly did not want to see her father leave again. Putting on a brave face just for her father's comfort. Such a wonderful daughter...
Despite the ache that crept over his heart and reached down to his stomach, the bard's response was cheerful, as was his visage. "Of course my little firefly. Of course. In fact, pretty soon we'll have to find some stories that all three of you can enjoy." His gaze turned toward the crib on the other side of the room, or more accurately toward the twin sleeping little angels within.
"Now be good for your aunty and help her with the twins, alright?"
"Alright daddy..."
"That's my girl."
One more fatherly kiss was given to his eldest, then very carefully to the sleeping twins, with care taken not to awaken them. Osclow looked down for a moment upon the two toddlers. Ivy and Ida lay close together, quiet and serene. It would not be much longer before the time would come for them to sleep in a bed like their big sister. The acceptance of this idea of course came at his wife Annie's insistance that leaving them in a crib til they were six was bound to cause developmental problems. Osclow's attempts at reasoning toward falling off a bed in the middle of night causing far more severe developmental problems were usually met by playful laughter by Tia, and a hard stare from his wife bringing eventual submission to accursed logic. Being the only man in a house full of females was an upscale battle at times.
As he quietly closed the door to his daughters' room and made his way downstairs, Osclow's gaze turned to the woman who was putting the last bit of shine to his armor's pauldron. She was in her mid-twenties, the same age as himself, and in many ways a good representation of what his eldest daughter would look like in another decade or so. An exception of course being the fact that this woman's eyes were a soft silvery color. Those silver eyes did not look upon the bard with much fondness at the moment.
"Off you go again, getting involved with Binder knows what."
Osclow wanted to retort with a quip of annoyance, some witty remark laced with a bit of sarcasm for good measure. However, he knew he possessed no right to such, not to this woman whom he had known since childhood and had helped him and his family time and time again. The trips away from home had become frequent enough that if anyone had a right to words of criticism, it was Esmee Vindel.
"I'm sorry about this.. I know we've been asking you for so much lately."
Esmee turned from the armor stand, silver eyes narrowing in a further irritation."You know this isn't about that! Those three mean the world to me. I'd happily do ten times what I do for them now. It's just that this sort of thing was SUPPOSED to end, or at least lessen."
"Esmee... We lost a lot of people in the fires. Annie is needed for patrols and I.."
Esmee didn't give the bard a chance to finish his thought. "What happened to finally settling down and leaving these affairs to others? Leave the forest to Iauron and Maia. Leave the rest to the Legion and knights like that Darius and Ryland. There's no need for you to get involved."
The bard gave no immediate response in the form of words. Instead, he made his way to the armor stand where a collection of silvery metal and leather fittings held together in masterful design, drapped over with a tabard of forest green. His emerald gaze remained fixed upon the work of art; elven craftsmanship, though tailored for a human. It had served him well and saved his life in countless situations, yet it was difficult to truly appreciate it at the moment. It was as much a symbol of dreaded battle as it was a shield against it and even with the flawless shine it held, he knew that once this armor was donned, it was time to head out once more into the darkness. The bard returned from his weary thoughts, back to reality, with the touch of Esmee's hands upon his shoulders, her head upon his back, and her voice now spoken as much in sorrow as anger.
"You missed the twins' first steps. Annie missed their first words. These are not the kind of moments that a father and mother are supposed to miss." Her grip upon the bard's shoulders tightened to the point where he briefly questioned if strangling him a little was crossing her mind. "I just wish she was here right now, so I could clunk both your heads together."
"I don't want the moments to end there..." Osclow finally responded verbally. "I have not become useless just yet. If I can make even a slight difference, then I have to do more than just sit back and pray for the best. Maybe if..." he hesitated for a moment. "Maybe if more people of the glade saw the mistake in... " Again he hesistated. Esmee didn't know all of the details of what occurred beyond the forest. Or at least that was what the bard thought for another few seconds.
"The mistake in this current path we're on?"
Osclow turned, surprise clearly illustrated upon his face, which brought about a somewhat insulted look from Esmee.
"Don't look at me like that! As much as you might not like to admit it you note-plucking buffoon, I'm a lot smarter than you, and certainly smart enough to know what's going on. I've seen the glade guardians, they look like they've had the life sucked right out of them. I've heard the whispers about what you and that crazy Fey Queen are trying to do and I know about the upcoming battle."
All Osclow could do was stare, then eventually laugh. "I've underestimated you yet again."
"You'd think losing to me in chess 20 times in a row would give you a hint. And for the record, I was Master's top pupil."
Osclow fumed a bit at the audacity of this woman claiming such a title for herself, and from their hometown's best educator nonetheless. "Now you are crossing the line, and it was only FIVE times in a row."
"Yes, because a Wiltenholm is soooo reliable for keeping all the facts intact."
A hard staredown between the two soon became a dual reluctant sigh of acceptance to the fact that this enjoyable banter was simply not to last. And on Esmee's part, she also knew her words would not pierce deep enough to keep this stubborn man home.
"At least be careful out there Osclow..."
The bard soon stepped from the warmth of his cabin, armor in place except for one stubborn strap that only two people knew how to properly put into place. Unfortunately, neither of those two were present, but he would manage. He brushed a few strands of his bangs from his face to gaze skyward in reaction to the sound of thunder. A storm... just wonderful. He pulled a bit upon the somewhat wide brim of the worn hat he was always known to be wearing just seconds before the first raindrops began to fall. The play of life that was in motion on a stage known as Sundren was a harsh one indeed, filled with tragedy and woe. There was a great likeliness that the next act would have it's share of hardship, just like so many previously. But, through it all, there was comfort to be found in the fact that he knew he was not forced to face what awaited on his own.
As he made his way through the moonlit glade, the bard could not help but wonder what went through the minds of his friends and allies...