The Death and Rebirth of Tottespiel

[Ogregrim]

An'Anzi reclined lazily in the velvet setee, one leg casually draped over the elaborately embroidered arm. In his hands he cradled a finely crafted lute, the long slender fingers of his left hand darting along the neck of the instrument as those of his right hand, plucked at the strings in a striking resemblance to a spider tending its web. He turned his pale blue eyes to his instructor with a hint of boredom.

"This piece is dreadfully tedious, Tottespiel. I cannot imagine why you insisted on my learning it," The words rolled of his tongue with an air of disgust.

"You will find, my lord," Answered the bard, " That much in this life is tedious, but all the same necessary. Life is pain, those who say different want something from you.
"
It is also necessary to keep one's repetoire both full and diverse. Audiences vary, and even the same audience is often subject to the whim of mood. If you are to effect them, you must learn to identify that mood and present it to them for their observation. This will establish a repoir, which you may then utilize to redirect their attention to the mood you wish to inspire. So doing, you gain controll of the audience."

"How very astute of you, Tottespiel," came the reply,"I shall endeavour to do so at every opportunity. I am certain that the family will be delighted to have their son seen regularly on stages before the Spider-Kissers, parading his talent by pandering to every class of society like some Darthiir slave at a masquerade." The last bit of this response was accompanied by a look of futility that added a hollowness to the finely chiseled features of the handsome young Drow.

"Things change, my lord," came the sympathetic reply from the instructor,"Your family is, after all, at some loss as to what to do with you. Your dismissal from the academy has created quite the upheaval in their plans for you."

"Oh yes," An'Anzi retorted quickly, as the tempo of his playing sped in time with his mood,"Let us not forget their plans for me! A Wizard or a Sorcerer, spinning spells to strengthen the household might. A life of study so intense that I would scarce have the opportunity to see anything but books and battle till every last savour of pleasure has been drained from me and I am a doddering, yellow-haired menace who knows more about what happened before this city was built than he does of what is happening in the next damned room! And, honestly! A familiar! Some creeping thing eyeing you at every moment, fawning, drooling, wheedling, and conniving! Who could tolerate such a thing! Did you know that Ilphin, the fool has an EYEBALL floating around him now? He seems intensely pleased with both it and himself, and it is all I can do not to double over in revulsion every time I see the two of them muttering nonsenses to one another!

"NO! I want no part of such vulgarities, and I certainly am not going to give up a part of my very life essence just to summon such a torment! Leave that to those who want it, but I shall have none of it!"

The swift black fingers struck a jangling chord that hung suspended in the room for a moment as the lordling regained his composure, and then returned to a pianissimo reprisal slowly working it's way back to the original melody with a steady crescendo.

"It is simply a shame, my lord, that your obvious talents should go to waste. You speak of a life of books with disdain, but," Here Tottespiel waved a dark thin hand about the room drawing attention to the numerous volumes scattered and bookmarked that lay in every corner,"You surround yourself with books, and it is rare that I arrive for your lessons and do not find you engrossed in one sort of libram or another. Can you not see why your family thought that you should make an excellent student of the arcane? And your mastery of cantrips at such an early age surely would seem to most as a sure sign that the Academy was a perfect fit for you."

"I'm not saying that I don't like books, we both know that I do," An'Anzi grinned, flashing a set of small, perfectly set white teeth,"But I like books that are INTERESTING, not those tedious tomes with their ponderous insistances that one stand facing this direction and wave the left hand thus in the eightieth position, with a sudden dip whilst wiggling ones toes alternately. Who has the stomach for such rubbish? I want books that tell of places I might go, and things I might do, and...poetry. Well crafted words that have the power to make you FEEL! To remind you that you are alive. To awaken your passions. I like books that are alive."

Tottespiel, ran his hand through his white hair and looked as sternly as he dared at the young Drow."You also seem to like books that are forbidden to you, my lord. I do understand, and even commend your curiosity, but I fear that if you are not cautious, this passion of yours will lead you to the path of your destruction. I have often seen the Tower in your future, and it makes me uneasy for you."

At this mention of the Bard and his superstitious faith in the cards he was forever consulting, the youth laughed softly. The bard had taught him their meanings early in his tutelage, and had even required him to compose verses for each as an exercise. His mind flew back to the verse he had composed for the card depicting the Tower, an ominous card depicting a bolt of electricity toppling a mighty tower, and with it a crowned figure plummeting to its certain death. His fingers darted as he modified the rhythm of the tune to fit the cadence of the verse and he sang.

"A bolt unseen has struck the tower,
Doom comes now for those in power,
A fall for those who would command,
Yet the lowest of stones in the tower still stand.
For the mighty comes swift, unseen destruction,
For the lowly, struggle and reconstruction.
A warning for those who would climb too high,
All will mean nothing, when at last you die."

At this recital, the slightest hint of a smile crept across the bard's face, smoothing the lines that had begun to etch their way into his features.

"I am pleased, my lord, that you have niether forgotten your lessons, nor your own composition. It was a worthy verse for one so young, but I would urge you to consider the weight of your own words in this matter, and heed your own, if not my, advice.

"Have you given any thoughts as to what you shall do with yourself, as you will not be studying at the acadamy? From the looks of you," here the bard eyed the indolent youth with a frank appraisal of the light if shapely frame," You won't last long studying the arts of war exclusively, even if you have shown some promise in our fencing lessons. You will tire too quickly with the heavier weapons you will be required to master, and as light as you may be on your feet, that will do you little service when you are confined in armour half as heavy as yourself."

An'Anzi brightened at this,"Oh no, not that. You are absolutely right, I have no desire to shuffle around and suffer the blows and insults of the usual band of louts that end up there. I have thought it over carefully and determined to be an Artist. So your lessons will not have been in vain. I have been practicing, and my work is getting better all the time. I shall learn to craft items of beauty and power, and to adorn them will illustration and relief. I shall continue to study the family bussiness, learning the finer art of winemaking, and the subtle techniques of devising poisons, and those things that you teach me, in the ample free time that it will afford me, and when my skills are mastered, I shall adorn the house with artwork the like that has not been yet seen in Menzoberranzan, adding to the family fame and prestige. When my reputation as an artist is great enough, I shall be able to travel where I will, and all of the best houses will vie for my services. Life shall be grand and luxurious, and I will be as free as my duties could ever allow me to be!"

A sad smile passed across Tottespiel's face at this explosion of exuberance, "I see you have already begun to build your castle in your mind, but I wonder if you have yet managed to collect the stones to make it real?"

"Oh, Tottespiel, you do worry so. I have often wondered at how one who has lived the life you have can be so gloomy.

"You doubt my resolve, or perhaps my talents, nau? Let me show you some of the pieces I have been working on. They are only sketches at the moment, but I plan to carve them in snowflake obsidian as soon as the next shipment of stone arrives for the craftsmen."

An'Anzi gently set the lute upon the setee and then dashed to a pile of books laying on his large mahogany desk. He shuffled through several books occasionally pulling forth loose pieces of parchment that had been used to mark his place. A look of puzzlement began to settle on his face.
He handed the pages, which had been carefully adorned with numerous gracefull images, well drawn, and yet distinctively stylized to Tottespiel, who examined them with surprise and approval.

"These are indeed very good, my lord. I had not realized that you possessed such an eye for form and perspective."

An'Anzi smiled at the praise, but his frown returned."I cannot find the best peice. It makes the others seem uninspired by comparison, and I worked on it every chance I could steal."

"Can you describe it to me?"

"Of course, it is really most amusing, I got the idea watching the acolyte priestesses of Lolth.

"While they do not speak of it, Lolth was, was she not, once the consort of Correllon, before she was betrayed, nau?"

"Yes, so the story goes..."

"Well, if she was his consort, (and she was), and he fathered Vhaeraun, that would indicate that at some time they were enguaged in copulation, nau?"

Tottespiel winced."Technically, that would have to be true, xas, but I am concerned with the direction you are taking with this..."

"Just consider, all this taken into account, and the arts of deception to which Lolth herself is inclined, and a pompous Darthiir god convinced of his superiority... Would not Lolth have been forced, to complete the deception, to perform more submissive forms of administering pleasure, lest Correllon grow suspiscious? My piece is a tribute to her deceptions by portraying her in a subserviant sexual act with a haughty Darthiir, I call it the "Conception of Vhaeraun".

Tottespiel's dark countenance paled. "Did you actually draw this piece? And are the figures in question identifiable?"

"Of course I drew it, I had even been adding colour I had taken from the inkpots at the acadamy. And it is very good. There is no mistaking the figures, I have incorporated iconography to remove any doubt. It is an amazing work, and dammit! I can't find it. I know I had it in the pages of one of my books...The Art of Conjuration, I think. I used that as a reference for some of the imaging..."

"One of your Acadamy textbooks?" Tottespiel's voice began to tremble in a manner that was entirely unfamiliar to An'Anzi.

"Yes, but it was my book, and the inks were dry, they weren't going to stain the pages. I am not a fool, Tottespiel. Really, at times you treat me as if I were a child. I think I deserve a little more respe..."

An'Anzi's words were interrupted by a roar followed by a crackling noise, and many screams that quickly faded. A cascade of noises followed, clatterings and crashes, screams, oaths, and obscenities, followed by many more roars much like the first.

Shortly thereafter, a svifneblin slave burst through the door, her coal black eyes wide with terror, he clothing, and much of the skin on her left side charred and smouldering.

"THEY"VE COME TO DESTROY US ALL!" she howled. "WE MUST FLEE!"

"Who have come and why?" demanded Tottespiel, a hollow tone entering his voice, making it clear that he had already deduced the answer for himself.

The little slave shuddered, her eyes rolling in desperation, but all of her training still forcing her to stop, bow, and give an answer when questioned, "The priestessess of Lolth, and the Headmaster of the Acadamy. The family has been condemned for heresy. They say they have proof. Incontrivertible proof they say. They are slaughtering all who resist and siezing all who surrender. The House Guard have all fallen. Please, WE MUST FLEE. They are looking for Master An'Anzi, they say he has all the proof they need."

An'Anzi and Tottespiel had listened this with growing unease and disbelief. As they did so, An'Anzi had drawn back to the setee, and retrieved the lute, clutching it as a drowning seaman will cling to a bit of flotsam in a gale. His eyes darted about the room, and then his features smoothed, and his jaw set firmly.

"Go then, and tell them An'Anzi is dead. GO! GO NOW!"

The slave looked aghast for a moment, turned and fled back down the hallway, determined to deliver this message that she did not understand.

"They won't believe that, my lord, "Tottespiel turned to his student, "They will demand to see the body."

"I know,"came the sad reply, "And so they must. I am sorry."

An'Anzi brought the lute down upon the head of his friend and instructor with all the force he could summon. The curbed body of the lute shattered with a sickening crunch accompanied by the dischordant final note of snapping strings. The bard was caught completely unawares, and crumpled limply to the floor, his face a mangled bleeding mess.

An'Anzi stripped the clothes off of Tottespiel, and then himself, hurriedly exchanging them. He paused a moment, and then removed the house insignia he wore on a silver chain around his neck, and placed it gently around the neck of his dying friend. He drew Tottespiel's dagger from the belt he now wore around his own waist, and with a downward thrust stilled the slowing heart within the chest that had once filled him with such joy as from it poured songs of the many beauties to be seen in faraway places.
"I am sorry," he whispered," But An'Anzi is dead, and Tottespiel lives on, It is I who have died that you may live, even as you have died that I might do so. You said yourself, All life is pain. I see that now. Fairwell, An'Anzi."

So saying, An'Anzi was no more, the youthfull Tottespiel, clutched the bag of his now dead instructor and fled through the bolthole beneath what would no more be his bed.

[Burt]

Wow, very cool.

[Mord]

Totte's the man, er, Drow.

[Ogregrim]

I put a berry on a hook,
And tossed it in a silver brook,
And when again I pulled it out,
It brought with it a wine dark trout.

The trout, the berry had swallowed whole,
And twisted sharp against my pole,
But with a turn of steady hand,
I drew her out and onto land.

And there she met me with her gaze;
A look of shock and great amaze.
"What trick is this," she asked of me,
"What cruel deceptive treachery?"

I looked on her and then replied,
"You ought not keep your mouth so wide,
For if you had cared to look,
You clearly would have seen the hook."

"I did not force you e'er to bite,
You followed but your appetite,
And am I then to be held blame?
For in eating you, I do the same."

[Ogregrim]

I do beg your pardon, the previous verse was intended to go in the Songs of Tottespiel. I posted it before I had to dash to work, and the Forums for some reason were moving at a speed akin to a the stagger of a snail.

[Xityar]

I know it's using meta.. but damn i wanna buy that painting ^__^