The Bard's Tale

The Bard's Tale

A Story by John

     Hello, friend. What of you find ahead of you is by and large a tale. I wish it was a tale of friendship, love, and of how good always triumphs over evil. Alas, I'm afraid it is not. My story is simply the story of a bard(me, as I'm sure you've figured out), my ramblings and travelings through this realm that I just so happen to inhabit. I wouldn't know how things are in your land and time, but as I write this book, we bards work as the storytellers and keepers of the truth. Rather dumb of them to leave that to drunken, craven people who will usually turn a story into something it is not, either by enhancing it or shaming it out of existance, but who am I to argue, right?

     Regardless, that's how things are. Having such an important status gives us bards some very interesting benefits. For instance, right of travel. We are allowed to travel all the realm, despite any wars, treacherous plots, and cataclysmic events that may be happening as we do so. Any official bard is to be admitted into any lord's household, and given the highest level of accomodations attainable by a guest. That, of course, is also a very desirable bonus of our work. You'll learn more about us over the course of this book, if you don't end up snoring and slobbering all over it. Please don't. I've barely even started and my fingers already hurt. Also, ink is expensive around here.

     Let me start, then, by presenting myself. I said hello, I know, but that does not suffice. My name is Lyn. No, it is not a girl's name, as I'm not a girl, in case you might be wondering. I'm a Minstrel in the Order of the Bards, which is the second-to-highest rank obtainable, losing only to Master Bard, which mind you, was offered to me, though I politely refused, seeing as sych a stupid name would keep me many a night awake and wondering if I had enough privileges to change it to something more sensible. So, my name is Lyn. Good start. As I write this, I am the only Minstrel of the Order, and it's a bit of a chaos around here, since we have no Master Bard, as I killed the last one(it's a long story), and refused to take his place(as you already know why). So, Lyn, right? Got it? Good. Next, I am twenty-three. "But Lyn, why tell us your age?," you might be wondering. Well, half of my feats wouldn't have happened if I hadn't charmed my way into some lady's(and, though I refuse to admit, lord's) pants. And none of that would have happened hadn't I had this extremely pretty face, coupled with my deliciously lean body and long, straight, jet black hair. Because, seriously, who wants to hear ugly people sing? F**k that, I know I don't.

     I also used my incredible singing and playing skills to distract guards while my fearless companions swoop in and did the dirty job. I know, I know, the one in peril was always me, even as they fought against hordes of riotous, bloodthirsty foes, which brings us to a second important point of my tale, that you might be unaware of(and we can't have that, can we?). Music has power here. "But Lyn, of course. Music contains the power to move people's heart and turn sadness into joy!," no, reader, I'm not talking about those homossexual things that I violently refuse to echo. I'm talking about charring foes crispy on the outside by playing a powerful tune. Or bending their wills as I play one of those soul tunes that even I don't really understand. I can control the winds and waters, the fire and earth, and why move peoples' hearts if I can have them ripped out by a wind fiend? You get the gist, right? Around here, bard equals boss. But that's very recent. And I mean 5 years or so recent, when my very person did some stuff that you will soon know about, which released the power of music, and an ancient foe with it.(Sounds cliche? Well, surprise, surprise, m**********r!)

© 2012 John


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Added on November 21, 2012
Last Updated on November 21, 2012
Tags: fantasy, epic

Author

John
John

Brasilia, DF, Brazil



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Just someone who writes a lot of random stuff... more..

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