Songhall - The Ballad of Stribog's End
Posted: Thu Oct 06, 2016 1:04 pm
Nathaniel Askovar had cultivated memories of The Thirsty Fool early in his career as an adventurer in Impiltur. Not the hub of social activity that Sarshel was and much more difficult to access, Songhall saw less traffic and diversity than could be called desirable to make it a location to which one could be loyal whilst seeking companions for the road and for battle. Yet it was not a place that housed only scholars. Songhall was an artisan town fortress, and The Thirsty Fool accommodated the brief residencies of an eclectic variety, as well as being a place of music and respite for the inhabitants of the settlement, from scholars and smiths to ostlers and guardsmen.
With Demethien, Nathaniel could make the journey more easily than most. The dowdy warmth of the inn's interior and the lull of lute music was a welcome friend to those that knew the strain of journeying up Pilgrim's Road in the current climate. Day turned to night and the young Bard calmly stirred rhyme and verse in his mind, non-committal in his creative impulses. It was a ballad he had intended to sing for some time, never put to paper nor constructed in full. But if not today, perhaps there would not be another.
As the tavern floor takes in patrols with the close of the working day, Nathaniel informs Milos Borsavin of his impending performance. It would recount the brave battle with Stribog that took place atop The Hundred Steps: a closure, as it were, to a local legend. Hopefully, the end of one would be the birth of another.
It is a ballad of heroes, and the Shaaran lad defies a slightness of stature and lightness of disposition with a fiery account of his comrade's feats of strength. He sets a scene of contrasts, playing upon the whiteness of the landscape in juxtaposition to the month of Summertide, and the heat of battle that lingers atop the mountains, whereupon Stribog is detailed in ominous verse as a king atop the throne of winter, and the Hundred Steps an ascent towards his ruling nest.
Those that battle are spoken of differently, and portrayed in distinctive styles, stepping by the Bard's inability to assume their voices due to a distinctly foreign accent that undermines the possibility of him playing multiple parts. He is the narrator, and his own role in the ballad is downplayed to be only that of a narrator, forsaking any gritty self-involvements that relay his own contribution to the battle, or the reality of near death that threatened him.
He addresses Merney Valroc sometimes by name, and as the King of Midsummer also, harkening to later accomplishments of the Fighter that place him in a firm historical context. The man himself is portrayed as a sombre and aloof individual, whose stake in the battle is alleged in the ballad to be nothing more than a want for battle. His deeds in the battle that ensues are praised, and as a warrior he comes off formidable, although he provides little of the tale's humanity due to a perceptible distance taken by the narrator not to portray the man's personality as completely as that of his companions.
Anton is a man sung bravely of. Much of the excitement from the action and the ballad is relaying in accounts of Anton's martial ability. Nimble and energetic, the Bard improvises and imitates daring actions he claims that the Monk did make, leaping from one table to the next, tumbling and weaving with a commingled expertise in acrobatics and performance to demonstrate evasions and nail biting efforts made by the man to climb upon the beast's back. These verses come intermittently between accounts of the actions of other heroes in the party, with the subject coming off as a somewhat fantastical hero: and how else can a man be portrayed who would fight a Wyvern with his bare knuckles?
Rannie Marrinson, the Paladin of Sune, is played to the strength of her niche as the sole source of female power in the ballad. Much of the verses dedicated to her honour her appearance and disposition as a beacon of strength; a presence that breeds heroism and wisdom; and a cause for which the men's blood became more thick to fight. Fantasising Stribog's personality, the Paladin of Sune is taken to be an object of desire, and certain realities of the encounter are foregone to commit verse to the portrayal of the party's personas, and to allege that it was a desire to capture the Paladin of Sune which drew Stribog into his final battle. Though some trope of a damsel in distress is not avoided in the Bard's rendition of the tale, Rannie Marrinson seems to be used as a centrepiece through which the narrator commends the necessity of female wisdom in times of danger both in the context of the battle and seemingly in a larger social context, too.
As the Monk among them is used to provide moments of excitement, and the Paladin is a source of inspiration and attachment for the audience, so too is Lev Balakov's personality used to invite a sense of familiarity in a tale so extraordinary in scope that it risks being only a thing of fascination. As per the Sorcerer's request, the Bard foregoes the opportunity to enrich his ballad with accounts of magical prowess, although there is a sly hint in the narrator's opening verse that he and Lev Balakov share a secret: it is never revealed to the audience. His sorcerous identity forsook, Lev Balakov becomes the everyman of the tale, and a contrast is evident between the high poetic form which is adopted by the narrator to portray the Paladin of Sune and the simplicity of verse used to personify Lev Balakov. The Bard goes through the audience as he speaks of Lev Balakov, often reaching out to put a hand upon a man's shoulder or to clasp a maiden's palm, and in these subtle physical performances he attempts to weave a sense of social appeal into his verses upon the quality of Lev Balakov's character. Although much of the ballad's climax forsakes mention of the Sorcerer, focusing upon less censored acts of heroism, he is again brought to the fore in the aftermath of the encounter as the one who tends the wounds of the party, reminding the audience once again of his quality.
The hero of the tale is Jonan Mard, and several verses are committed to retelling the many feats of the warrior that predated his encounter with Stribog (mentions of dismemberment and fetish are cut from the final performance). The narrator takes a preferential bias towards the character of Jonan Mard, smoothing off the edges on his personality and playing up a vendetta between the tale's protagonist and Stribog, the antagonist. Jonan Mard stands atop the Earthspurs and bellows a challenge to the God of Wind and Sky, mocking the Wyvern's might with a second and shorter recount of the Fighter's many martial victories in the past. When Stribog descends to combat, Jonan Mard engages immediately with the beast, and although the narrator gives Stribog much ground in the encounter, and Jonan Mard's allies are titular to the outcome of the conflict, it is the tale's protagonist that lands the final blow which ends The God of Wind and Sky, and which brings a momentary calm upon the entire mountain range.
The performance is lengthy unto an hour, but Nathaniel Askovar does not de-energise at any time throughout the performance. It is at the end of the performance, a brow beaded by sweat and a smile of fulfillment enhancing his youth face, that the Bard's humble, lone bow is a welcome droop. He retires promptly to the side of the room with a glass of wine, happy to entertain conversation with those that approach him. Interrogations are met with a boyish coyness, as he seems to disavow exposition of the tale beyond what has already been told in performance format. Nathaniel Askovar welcomes company with a retiring sociability, and for those familiar faces whom the Bard might see, a seat nearby and a rich, warming smile are offered.
//OOC: Celebrating my 500th post on the forum in style, and with a throwback to an excellent event DMed by Copper Dragon back in July - thanks again for it. Please do consider this thread open for players to post their own character's responses to the storyline or the ballad, regardless of whether they had been involved in the event or not.
With Demethien, Nathaniel could make the journey more easily than most. The dowdy warmth of the inn's interior and the lull of lute music was a welcome friend to those that knew the strain of journeying up Pilgrim's Road in the current climate. Day turned to night and the young Bard calmly stirred rhyme and verse in his mind, non-committal in his creative impulses. It was a ballad he had intended to sing for some time, never put to paper nor constructed in full. But if not today, perhaps there would not be another.
As the tavern floor takes in patrols with the close of the working day, Nathaniel informs Milos Borsavin of his impending performance. It would recount the brave battle with Stribog that took place atop The Hundred Steps: a closure, as it were, to a local legend. Hopefully, the end of one would be the birth of another.
It is a ballad of heroes, and the Shaaran lad defies a slightness of stature and lightness of disposition with a fiery account of his comrade's feats of strength. He sets a scene of contrasts, playing upon the whiteness of the landscape in juxtaposition to the month of Summertide, and the heat of battle that lingers atop the mountains, whereupon Stribog is detailed in ominous verse as a king atop the throne of winter, and the Hundred Steps an ascent towards his ruling nest.
Those that battle are spoken of differently, and portrayed in distinctive styles, stepping by the Bard's inability to assume their voices due to a distinctly foreign accent that undermines the possibility of him playing multiple parts. He is the narrator, and his own role in the ballad is downplayed to be only that of a narrator, forsaking any gritty self-involvements that relay his own contribution to the battle, or the reality of near death that threatened him.
He addresses Merney Valroc sometimes by name, and as the King of Midsummer also, harkening to later accomplishments of the Fighter that place him in a firm historical context. The man himself is portrayed as a sombre and aloof individual, whose stake in the battle is alleged in the ballad to be nothing more than a want for battle. His deeds in the battle that ensues are praised, and as a warrior he comes off formidable, although he provides little of the tale's humanity due to a perceptible distance taken by the narrator not to portray the man's personality as completely as that of his companions.
Anton is a man sung bravely of. Much of the excitement from the action and the ballad is relaying in accounts of Anton's martial ability. Nimble and energetic, the Bard improvises and imitates daring actions he claims that the Monk did make, leaping from one table to the next, tumbling and weaving with a commingled expertise in acrobatics and performance to demonstrate evasions and nail biting efforts made by the man to climb upon the beast's back. These verses come intermittently between accounts of the actions of other heroes in the party, with the subject coming off as a somewhat fantastical hero: and how else can a man be portrayed who would fight a Wyvern with his bare knuckles?
Rannie Marrinson, the Paladin of Sune, is played to the strength of her niche as the sole source of female power in the ballad. Much of the verses dedicated to her honour her appearance and disposition as a beacon of strength; a presence that breeds heroism and wisdom; and a cause for which the men's blood became more thick to fight. Fantasising Stribog's personality, the Paladin of Sune is taken to be an object of desire, and certain realities of the encounter are foregone to commit verse to the portrayal of the party's personas, and to allege that it was a desire to capture the Paladin of Sune which drew Stribog into his final battle. Though some trope of a damsel in distress is not avoided in the Bard's rendition of the tale, Rannie Marrinson seems to be used as a centrepiece through which the narrator commends the necessity of female wisdom in times of danger both in the context of the battle and seemingly in a larger social context, too.
As the Monk among them is used to provide moments of excitement, and the Paladin is a source of inspiration and attachment for the audience, so too is Lev Balakov's personality used to invite a sense of familiarity in a tale so extraordinary in scope that it risks being only a thing of fascination. As per the Sorcerer's request, the Bard foregoes the opportunity to enrich his ballad with accounts of magical prowess, although there is a sly hint in the narrator's opening verse that he and Lev Balakov share a secret: it is never revealed to the audience. His sorcerous identity forsook, Lev Balakov becomes the everyman of the tale, and a contrast is evident between the high poetic form which is adopted by the narrator to portray the Paladin of Sune and the simplicity of verse used to personify Lev Balakov. The Bard goes through the audience as he speaks of Lev Balakov, often reaching out to put a hand upon a man's shoulder or to clasp a maiden's palm, and in these subtle physical performances he attempts to weave a sense of social appeal into his verses upon the quality of Lev Balakov's character. Although much of the ballad's climax forsakes mention of the Sorcerer, focusing upon less censored acts of heroism, he is again brought to the fore in the aftermath of the encounter as the one who tends the wounds of the party, reminding the audience once again of his quality.
The hero of the tale is Jonan Mard, and several verses are committed to retelling the many feats of the warrior that predated his encounter with Stribog (mentions of dismemberment and fetish are cut from the final performance). The narrator takes a preferential bias towards the character of Jonan Mard, smoothing off the edges on his personality and playing up a vendetta between the tale's protagonist and Stribog, the antagonist. Jonan Mard stands atop the Earthspurs and bellows a challenge to the God of Wind and Sky, mocking the Wyvern's might with a second and shorter recount of the Fighter's many martial victories in the past. When Stribog descends to combat, Jonan Mard engages immediately with the beast, and although the narrator gives Stribog much ground in the encounter, and Jonan Mard's allies are titular to the outcome of the conflict, it is the tale's protagonist that lands the final blow which ends The God of Wind and Sky, and which brings a momentary calm upon the entire mountain range.
The performance is lengthy unto an hour, but Nathaniel Askovar does not de-energise at any time throughout the performance. It is at the end of the performance, a brow beaded by sweat and a smile of fulfillment enhancing his youth face, that the Bard's humble, lone bow is a welcome droop. He retires promptly to the side of the room with a glass of wine, happy to entertain conversation with those that approach him. Interrogations are met with a boyish coyness, as he seems to disavow exposition of the tale beyond what has already been told in performance format. Nathaniel Askovar welcomes company with a retiring sociability, and for those familiar faces whom the Bard might see, a seat nearby and a rich, warming smile are offered.
//OOC: Celebrating my 500th post on the forum in style, and with a throwback to an excellent event DMed by Copper Dragon back in July - thanks again for it. Please do consider this thread open for players to post their own character's responses to the storyline or the ballad, regardless of whether they had been involved in the event or not.