Juggling Justified
Blood clouded his eyes, and his legs hung useless. The froglok had been darting in and out so much, but now paused to watch the crumpled figure at his feet: A shiney mess of elf, no weapons, but unlike a monk so ackward in how he moved, especially in death throws. The only thing this elf held, at once seeming to gleam a glowing jet black, the next instant invisible. Yet all it was, not some magical dagger, but a horn, all it was was an ordinary horn.
Roop was very hot indeed, not just his bleeding wounds, but that ringmail chafing his armpits and legs, that neverending "it's new and needs to be broken-in" subtle irritation, that's all he felt, nothing worse.... The boots and mantle were new to him: fine dwarven ringmail, with a blue-black appearance that could dazzle ordinary light into platinum. The rest, perhaps not antique and far cheaper, was not to be scoffed at either--fine bands of deep grey plate, forged in the trees of Kelethin herself. No light reflected on the banded, yet Roop was oft to dart in and out of shadows anyway. Lying there like that, a rare instant sent the smell of his boots up to him, the pungent odor from the dwarf and previous owner. The worst thing one could smell before one died: Dwarf feet. Roop even smiled at this.
Roop Tugged on his mantle, rolling his black eyes. Though they wore the same size, Roop was a good deal larger than a dwarf, being Woodsmen Elf. He respected the forest like a deity, and drew his power from his more tricky relatives: The Pixies. But no matter how hard he concententrated on pixies, he still somehow felt to large squriming there in the cold linoleum of the aqueduct..
So small, how crazy to think of pixies as he died.
Roop did not care any longer, and he did the only thing he ever really loved: He played. T'was a sad song, her story, about his lost pubescent love, Belindra, to the plague she and rats her body went, but her liver and heart was still with Roop: No matter, was completely instrumental this time, but sad, so sad.
The frog ripped into Roop's flesh in a frenzy, almost it seemed, to a new crazzed rhythm of the song fleeting from his horn. But the horn only bleated then blared in a scream as his legs were confetti: a wet spray of defeat across his eyelids. Pain and His Sister shock arrived, for Roop became like a gnomish automotion, unable to even think!
Blopblob only care Roop's crazzed whistling, but this BlopBlob ignore like any death shriek. But them something happen bunch make Blobplob stop. Blobplob smell human-small and that not it. Human-small bad but smell Blobplob gud like. Gud Blobplob feel. Human-small not human at all, that it! Human-small almost seem like eternal Bribbane the frog-legged, the Divine. YES!! Like the story of Bribbane first coming to land, a slow scowering across the sand. Blobplob urinated and smiled, watched the God crawl a long time, and once he saw, it caught in the light and he almost saw a Minotaurs Horn. But there no Minotaurs here: Blobplob imagining things.
>From: Kristian Leitzen <kleit@...>
>
>I am also a RL musician, and i don't think that anyone, no matter what
>you try to say on here, sings one verse of one song, then one verse of
>another song, then the second verse of the first song, then the second
>verse of the second song, etc. if you do then you are annoying the
>hell out of everybody. this is what i mean when i say that a bard
>wouldn't do it. a bard is proud of his singing and wouldn't want to
>appear foolish even if it did boost his stats. this is all IMHO by the
>way. everyone is free to their own opinion.
>Olczyk
>
>
>> ----- Original Message -----
>> From: <dean_witcraft@...>
>> To: <eqbards@onelist.com>
>> Sent: Friday, May 14, 1999 12:50 PM
>> Subject: [eqbards] juggling justified
>>
>>
>> > From: dean_witcraft@...
>> >
>> > The juggling is EXACTLY what I do as a RL solo
>> club musician. It isn't
>> the song that continues when you stop singing. It's
>> the EFFECT that the
>> song has on you. When I sing a sad song, the
>> listener doesn't stop feeling
>> sad immediately after I stop singing. It's this
>> *effect* that carries over
>> into the next song. If the next song is a
>> toe-tapper, the audience may
>> still feel a little sad for a while even as they
>> start tapping.
>> >
>>
>>
>>
>>
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