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In Immurk's Hold, on The Dragon Isle, the annual Fishmongers Festival brings sailors of every cut from near and far to it's mighty port... though if one event itself could be named the 'main attraction' during this trade fair... it would no doubt be the "Sea Spinner's Song", a competition held on the opening day of the festival. Minstrels and Bards the land over flock to Immurk's shores, coveting the rich prizes and the title of "Sea Spinner", a most notorious title that often earns a spot on the richest sailing ships for the year.
Marq Du'Lapis, a lack-luster pirate by all accounts, had entered the contest every year for the past fifteen, never once winning more than the raucous laughter of jeering slim-hands, shouting curses and insults as Marq trounced off stage, another year mocked... another year of injury...
You see, Marq Du'Lapis had no talent for word craft... never a real story to tell. Few could begrudge him his attempts though, for his was the finest voice in all the isles, described aptly as "the sound of mist-morning, upon a still, weightless sea...", truly it was a magnificent tone, the hushed whisper of magical pipes... the very soul of the sea some would say...
But his songs! Gods! Year after year it seemed that they grew even more laughable! "Splinters", "Breakfast Seen Twice", and "No Booty" to name a few... the poor sod simply had nothing of merit to say.
That is, until this past year... where in mid revelry all in attendance stopped and turned, listening hard to his latest effort... "The Thief" he called it, and not a soul made a sound until it was given full... and even then, the applause was filled with a quiet wonder, amazed shock and now and then the tear-filled hoorah from amongst the many patrons...
Seems that Marq Du'Lapis had at last, found something to say...
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There was ne’er a tale quite as tragic,
Nevermore a song as sorrow-filled,
As had come to my ear while in Calimport,
Of a Thief and the man he had killed…
The Thief a man made by self merit,
Very young when he’d run from his home,
T’was a remembrance he lamented ‘pon often,
Truly pained was his life lived alone…
His father, an honest and Goodman,
Would be ashamed of his son if he knew,
With regret in his eyes the Thief told me,
All of this and what he planned to do…
He’d return to the home of his father,
Leave behind this cruel life he had wrought,
Saving coin in the following tenday,
So that passage cross the sea could be bought…
I applauded the choice he was making,
As he smiled and he moved to-ward door,
“A few more to take in dark alley…” he said,
And I’ll sail for that long distant shore…”
So he fell upon one after ‘nother,
Growing close to the coin he would need,
Sometimes they would give it up freely,
Sometimes they would just have to bleed…
It was near to his goal that it happened,
As he fell an old man with his blade,
Without care for the life he had taken,
Simply counting what earnings he made…
At last he held coin for the journey!
As his victim watched him cheer through weak eyes,
The thief turned to mockingly thank him,
What he found was a terrible surprise…
Gasping in terror he looked on,
To the man who’s eyes now neared to shut,
Petrified the Thief looked to dagger,
The wicked blade that so served fatal cut…
When killing the man it was business,
And he went to the task without bother,
But now, as he fell down beside him,
He could mouth, only once, the word “Father”…
In reply, the soon dead whispered, “Hear me,
Many years did I travel and roam,
Searching all the far lands for my dear son,
Since the day, when he left our good home”…
“And now that I never shall find him,
With my last breath I curse your foul name,
And hope that one day my son finds you,
Giving cause sir, for you to whisper this same”…
And with that, the mans life had been ended,
And the Thief sobbed with unfathomed pain,
As he raised that wicked blade to his own throat,
And he started to whisper this same…
“I, Jarik, son of Darris, do now find you,
And give your last days to the tide,
Your hand has ebbed life of mine father,
I’ll watch your blood flow 'til you've died”…
“And I, a lone Thief on his way home,
Do now see in your blade darkened sails,
‘Tis the black ship you hold in your hands sir,
I’ve earned the coin to stand by her rails”…
As the dagger slipped into the Thief’s throat,
As the spray caught his face like the sea,
He granted the old man his last wishes,
“Be home soon dad, and how I curse me...”
- As sung by Marq Du'Lapis - this year's "Sea Spinner"
Bardsongs: Part IX: The Thief
Bardsongs: Part IX: The Thief
Last edited by Aerthrin on Tue Dec 06, 2005 2:39 pm, edited 6 times in total.
- Johan Batara
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Long, lonely, loathsome tale
I love it! Does it have a tune? Of course I sang it, with each verse ending unresolved (on sol) until the last. The tune turned ugly and harsh for the curse at the end, soft on the last verse, though. Oh, how I miss you!
Ludo means "I play." Elm Terese, frozen in TSM - Granny Ludo, occasional OAS DM - occasional moderator