[tface=Callig]
THE BALLAD OF BROLAND
"Foul and rotten cultists, fallen under the lich's sway,
Serving dark H'Bala, upon fair Mistlocke they would prey,
Calling 'pon dark shadows coming from Chultan jungles old,
Had anyone courage to stand up to these brutes?
Could anyone be so bold? (Why yes!)
The cultist stood over a victim, withered and covered in rot,
Suddenly came a hero to set things right, the two battled on and fought,
The brute strength of the cultist was no match for the Legionnaire's steel,
And no doubt the cultist's wicked faith?
T'was no match for the Chessentan's zeal. (For Tempus!)
With end of the din of battle, after Broland had fought and bled,
T'was a quick trip to the village square, and off came that savage's head!
With the blood of his brother slain, came a dark sorcerer's threat,
Battle would be joined twice today, 'twas clear this wasn't done yet.
(No sir, no m'am!)
This mad corrupt magician, he could kill with only a touch,
He would call upon the shadows, upon wraiths and spectres and such!
Lesser men would shudder and go hide and run away,
Would Legionnaire Broland do the same?
The answer, I shout, is "NAY!"
He would instead meet this fiend on the field of battle,
He grew tired of his threats and his endless prattle,
As the Foehammer decrees, should have been an honorable fight,
Though one cannot expect such from H'Bala's blight.
With ambush and treachery, the Shadow Warden attacked,
Though never did the Legionnaire's defense begin to crack,
T'was not just a contest of arms, t'was a contest of mettle,
The strength of the Legion this one bout would settle.
Although the magician tried to flee to Old Stones,
He was stopped in his tracks, and felt fear in his bones,
For the first time in a while, this mind-addled seer,
Had found something other than the Eshowe to fear.
Like his fellow cultist, off went the man's head,
A horrendous scourge was finally made dead,
Through force of arms and outstanding valor,
The Legionnaire named Broland did prevail this hour."
[/tface]
[tface=Callig]THE JUDGE IS WATCHING
The Judge is watching, my dear child,
There is nothing to fear,
H'Bala shall know defeat, my child,
And know it grows evermore near...
The Lived shall outlast her monsters,
The Undying shall all be brought low,
Victory shall be with us all, my friends,
Her sick fleshy plants shalt not grow.
The Judge is watching, my dear child,
Now is the time to cheer!
H'Bala shall know defeat, my child,
We need not be scared of her leer.
The Year of the Maiden is over,
And the Year of the Judge shall begin,
With Kelemvor working to balance the scales,
This is one battle we shall win.
[/tface]
[tface=Callig]UNDERWATER WONDERS
I've beheld great beauty,
Underneath the seas,
Beauty so enthralling,
That it brought me to my knees,
Marble halls and waterfalls,
Statues of Diluvians old,
A bastion of civilization,
Within the misty islands cold.
Ruins and decay surround the city drowned,
The surface world would not believe the ancient wonders found,
Yet all is not well within the seas, as sea devils sharpen swords,
Readying tridents, making them sharp, making nets from rope and cords.
Shark-man general Shar'Kall lurks in waters warm,
Plotting and scheming with his monstrous swarm,
Betrayal 'gainst the lung-breathers, holding ransom heroes of war,
What could they possibly do in retribution, those who lived on the shore?
Heroic men and ladies in blue and white,
Ventured down to the seas,
Exacted great vengeance upon betrayers,
Deaf to the shark-men's pleas.[/tface]
[tface=Callig]SKIRMISH AT THE PRIORY
Isn't this the grandest thing?
To hear the Priory's church-bells be rang?
To feel the warmth of the noonday sun?
To hear praises given to the Three and One?
A diplomat makes his way towards misty shore,
To meet with a mayor, once an agent of Hoar,
No sooner did the diplomat reach the mist-covered lands,
Than the Numinous Order make unpleasant demands.
They demanded that Mistlocke bend knee to their lord,
That the Tower be barred with nail and wood boards,
That an old wizened woman be flogged near to death,
That the Three and One's praises be on everyone's breath.
They called for nonhumans to always know their place,
For them to be ruled by the great human race,
That we give the mist worship, that we make our backs bend,
That we accept that the world is soon going to end.
The Legion cried "Nay", and struck at the men,
Conflict would soon arise, though people knew not when,
But then there it came, though quick on their feet,
The Order did flee, and make their retreat.
Zealots made their stand outside of the Priory,
Then came the Legion, it was now do-or-die-ery,
The Order then drew their line in the sand,
Only thick steel would drive them from our lands.
Battle was joined, and down fell the knights,
Down fell four men from the harrowing fight,
Eventually the Order's line broke and they fled,
Nestling 'neath the Priory, where the Three watched overhead.
To show that the Legion was playing no game,
They took a flaming sword and set the building aflame,
There came a short boom and then a loud rumble,
Slowly the Priory did begin to crumble.
The remaining soldiers, to Blackhearth they went,
The Mists shielded them from the sordid event.
The people of Mistlocke did all stand and cheer,
They no longer needed to live on in fear.
[/tface]
[tface=Callig]SHARBONETH, O SHARBONETH
Sharboneth, O Sharboneth,
Noble in birth and creed,
Never has one in colonial past,
Refused to serve in word, in deed!
Sharboneth, O Sharboneth,
Though many may decry,
We declare, "O Sharboneth,
For you we'd do or die!"
Governors of Ymph in days of yore,
We'll not hide in disgrace.
We shall all stand proud and tall,
And stare at our enemy's face!
Sharboneth, O Sharboneth,
It is you we can't deny,
We will march with you to the ends of Ymph,
Holding your banner high!
[/tface]
[tface=Callig]
RED FLAMES
Red flames, they lick my body
Warming me, occasionally scalding me,
Like a child's hand too close to a wick.
I crawl on my knees, wandering slovenly,
The smoke in the air is too thick.
Midnight gives way to a new dawn,
As people get out of bed with a yawn,
Regal as an eagle, beautiful as a swan,
The old gives way to the new that was spawned
Rising up like a phoenix from ashes of old,
Past power escapes from dark prisons cold,
She dances around, tempestuous and free,
And leaves her mark in the heavens for all to see.
[/tface]
Quote(http://i.imgur.com/UFiSN.jpg)
[COLOR="Orange"][SIZE="3"][FONT="Palatino Linotype"]This work of art was lovingly and painstakingly created, and a lot of work went into the details featured in the painting - that much is certain. The smell of amber, likely used as some sort of resin to preserve the work, is abundant.
A faithful hound can be seen with his long snout poked over a wooden rocking chair, awaiting his master's return. Floppy ears flank his head on both sides, giving him a playful appearance, yet his golden-brown fur contrasts with this, giving him a most regal countenance as well. A quilt has been draped over the chair, one that seems to change the colors of its patchwork from time to time, but one cannot possibly be sure one way or the other.
A fireplace roars in the background, and the hearth actually gives off a small amount of warmth to those who view it - magic, perhaps, some manner of simple prestidigitation, or merely a part of your mind? Who can say for sure?
As with all her pieces, the name "Jacqueline Dulcimer" is featured in the bottom-right.[/FONT][/SIZE][/COLOR]
Quote(http://i.imgur.com/d71qH.png)
[COLOR="Red"][SIZE="3"][FONT="Palatino Linotype"]Included with the letter is a rather carefully framed painting, the frame itself made from some of carpenter Jance Tarth's leftovers - the smell of sawdust is still fresh and it becomes quickly intermingled with the fragrance of potpourri added to the painting itself.
Imposing black lanceboard pieces can be seen in the foreground, intimidating and perhaps insurmountable in the eyes of many. Meeting them are an army of red pieces, resting in the background, ever vigilant.
Although first impressions would show this to be a very plain piece, a glamer exists - a magical illusion that alters the piece fundamentally should one stare at it long enough. With the glamer slowly taking effect, the red pieces become chipped and scratched - there is no doubt who the underdog is in this bout between right and wrong, good and evil.
However, the middle of the lanceboard suddenly becomes more luminous, and the corners of the lanceboard become noticeably more tenebrous - in fact, individual squares are lit up the brightest of all, and they seem to be leading somewhere and suggesting a particular strategy, perhaps suggesting the path towards 'checkmate'... and victory.
At the bottom right of the painting lies a name, "Jacqueline Dulcimer".[/FONT][/SIZE][/COLOR]
[tface=Callig]ODE TO HARMONY (ELYSIUM)
I wander through a thick forest glen
Enthralled by the beauty that I find within
Wonderment strikes me in the guardinal's home
A great warmth fills my heart in this land that I roam
Love, strength, and rapture I find in this place
The glow of the forest enshrined in this space
I came here once merely to take moment's reprieve
But now I have found, I do not wish to leave
Elysium
Watching the River Oceanus race towards the sea
Elysium
Together with my lover, where I want to be
Elysium
Never before have I seen such vibrant life
Elysium
Together with husband for whom I'll be his wife
Lady Firehair lurks in skies high above
Watching us shower each other with love
I lock eyes with my paramour, he locks eyes with me
And we are astounded by how much each other sees
Elysium
Watching the river Oceanus race to the sea
Elysium
Watching new life take hold over me
Elysium
New purpose, new focus, takes over me this day
Elysium
To the gods that reside here, I hope and I pray[/tface]
[FONT="Garamond"][SIZE="3"][COLOR="Orange"]'The Tale of the Stargazers' Origin and of the Mist Ogres, as told by the Lorekeeper Siwili, transcribed by Jacqueline Dulcimer[/COLOR]
[COLOR="Orange"][...] great ogres they were, they stomped the land with great feet!
WALLUMPH! WALLUMPH! Great ogre feet! WALLUMPH!
But it could not go on and on... and it came to be that the halflings were found by the the Ogres, and the Great Ogres came WALLUMPHing in and snatched away the halfling!
Oh, what to do, what to do? A great tribe is now held by the the Great Ogres and would soon be the next meal.
All of the First Heroes gathered together to determine what they must do. [COLOR="Lime"]Yondalla[/COLOR] who loved her people most, it is said, gathered the heroes to determine what to do.
[COLOR="Cyan"]Voreen[/COLOR] stood and said he would gather great halfling armies [sic] and strike into the heart of the Great Ogre lands. [COLOR="SlateGray"]Orglan[/COLOR] would aid him and take note of the dead so that all warriors were remembered.
[COLOR="PaleGreen"]Shelperol[/COLOR] and [COLOR="SandyBrown"]Serlalee[/COLOR] offered to go forward and speak with the Great Ogres and convince them to release the halfling tribe.
While they talked and talked, it was [COLOR="Gray"]Brunbaris[/COLOR] that sneaked away into the night to see for himself of these halflings.
Into the dark caves of the Great Ogres he crept and found them all, found the Great Ogres, WALLUMPH! And he found the great tribe all huddled in the darkness.
He quietly moved to the halflings and spoke to them - "Help us, help us, [COLOR="gray"]Bunbaris[/COLOR]!", they called. [COLOR="gray"]Brunbaris[/COLOR] shushed them so that the Great Ogres would not know he was there. Then he looked around to see how he might help.
The Great Ogres stood around a great cooking pot, thinking of ways to cook living halflings. [COLOR="gray"]Brunbaris[/COLOR] went out and stood at the edge of their caves.
"HAWWWWWWOOOOO!", he cried.
The Great Ogres jumped up, knocking their heads, dropping their things, and looked about, confused.
In a great, booming voice, [COLOR="gray"]Brunbaris[/COLOR] called from the darkness - "Now you have a great meal! So many halflings to eat, how will you eat them all?"
"HAWWWWWOOOOOO!", he cried again...[/COLOR]
[/SIZE][/FONT]
[The scrawlings at the bottom of the page appears to have been saturated with ink spilled over unintentionally from an inkwell - no doubt a clear source of frustration for the person transcribing the tale.]
[tface=Callig]WINGS
I soar high into the sky
My thoughts are adrift
I know not why
I look ahead of me
See the zephyrs blow
Frosted peaks now dusted
With downy snow
Clouds like cotton balls
Circling darkened peaks high
I pierce through one with a beak
Something for me to try
Talons outstretched
I snatch at a trout,
In the river some are shocked
The rest flee in a rout
I travel home.
No longer do I roam.
From his perch - this stone.[/tface]
[tface=Callig]TRAITOR'S SQUARE
Leather tongue wishing a taste
If only I were stronger
My heart starts to race
If only I lasted longer
Knuckle meets jaw
Bone meets bone
Jeers replace silence
Were that I was alone
I now lie here prostrate
I now lie here prone
Numb to the beatings
Face pressed against stone
Fetters cold
Rags soiled and old
Wounds long healed
No scars on the skin
Clearly all scars here
Can be found within
Put on airs
See if we care
You're but an animal to me
You can break free
Of your thick irons
But you'll never truly be free.[/tface]
[tface=Callig]ODE TO AN OLD DOGGEREL
Seven daughters, seven sons
Watch the river now, won't you see how it runs?
The Tear filled with bodies,
Now shambling out,
How long will we stand 'fore we're driven to rout?
The wailing of women tossing babies into pyres
The orcish horde's bodies being tossed into fire
How long can we watch the now-setting sun
Seven seasons pass, now watch as she comes.
But now, soft! Look what comes to pass!
An heroic knight-errant, a courageous lass,
The Maiden sees her defeat, with dark withered eyes,
And all are deaf to her banshee-like cries.
All shall sing of the battle that's won,
No longer shall we speak of seven daughters, nor of seven sons.[/tface]
[tface=Callig]WHO AM I?
I wear many faces,
I'm known for my guile,
I'll stare my enemy in the face,
Give a painted-on smile.
Who am I? Who am I?
Come on now, guess, give it a try!
Tricks are my game,
Treachery is my calling,
Can you hear that sound, love?
It's of gold coins a-falling!
Who am I? Who am I?
I'll take what is yours, don't even ask why!
I'll snatch them up,
From the hole in your purse,
There's no doubt that my boon,
Is someone else's curse.
Who am I? Who am I?
Your silver won't be wasted, so don't worry, don't cry!
I could be anyone,
I always exercise calm,
When I'm being your banker,
Or even your mom!
I AM THE DARKNESS THAT LURKS IN YOUR BED.
I AM THE DARK THOUGHTS THAT LURK IN YOUR HEAD.
I AM GREED, OH YES SIR, THE MASTER OF CRIME
AND THOUGH YOU KNOW YOU'RE NO PUPPET
REST ASSURED YOU ARE MINE.[/tface]
[tface=Callig]BULLBREAKER'S BALLAD
Listen close, folks, no need to be sour
For here comes the tale of Cameron Falltower
With his dogs, with his brothers
With his bow, with his glaive,
He sent that fellbeast down right to his grave
BULLBREAKER, BULLBREAKER!
From Aberdenn Hall!
Who brought down Nogo,
Saw the minotaur fall!
Fearsome Nogo had a great appetite
His presence gave all of fair Mistlocke a fright
Preying on caravans and villagers at night
Who would stand brave, and face him in a fight?
BULLBREAKER, BULLBREAKER!
From Aberdenn Hall!
Who brought down Nogo,
Saw the minotaur fall!
"Sound the horn! Get the dogs!
We go hunting today!
Do not be afraid men,
To go into the fray!"
"For I shall stand with you,
And I shall lead the charge,
And no beast can best our clan
No matter how big or how large!"
With that rousing speech,
With that rallying cry,
Aberdenn gave that beast,
One nasty black eye!
And though crows did look
Down their beaks with scorn,
What did the stags have?
Nogo's twisted horn!
BULLBREAKER, BULLBREAKER!
From Aberdenn Hall.
BULLBREAKER, BULLBREAKER!
Watched Nogo fall!
[/tface]
Quote(http://i.imgur.com/459V2.png)
[FONT="Palatino Linotype"][COLOR="White"]This painting shows in the foreground Marcus Bellbridge clad in bloodstained dark steel armor, appearing every bit the quintessential black knight - one would guess him a knight, were it not for the crown that sat atop his head. In his hand rests a vile-looking sword and underneath his cloak, an axe covered in fresh crimson stains. The brooch for his cloak shows a pewter version of Garagos' well-known tentacus - five arms, all holding bloodied scimitars, arranged around each other in a circular formation. His eyes glow a dark crimson.
He stands with his back against Christine's, a maiden depicted as both as indescribably beautiful and pure, covered in head to toe with regal attire - a warm glowing smile is prominent upon her countenance, the kind of smile that would find melt any cold heart, turn any sinner into a saint.
Although they at first appear to look towards opposite sides of the painting from one another, a glamour appears to have been put in place upon the work of art - subtle, but there, for certain. If one looks at the painting for a few seconds, Bellbridge's head shifts, the crimson glow in his eyes fading, his expression reminiscent of one who has been smitten. The spikes on his armor slowly fade away, and his armor turns from being black and covered with blood to being grey, and then eventually white and pure.
Written in one corner is the name of the work: "DEFECTION". Written in another is the name of the artist, "Jacqueline Dulcimer".[/COLOR][/FONT]
Quote(http://i.imgur.com/WfmdK.jpg)
[FONT="Palatino Linotype"][COLOR="White"]Done on a sheet of thick vellum, this painting shows a pair of halflings - one, appearing to be a self-imagining of Jacqueline Dulcimer, sits in a throne, a lap-harp resting on her legs as she seems entranced with her own playing. A crown, which is also a beret, rests on her head, slightly off-kilter. Her regal attire seems to resemble quite closely the motley she generally wears, though the colors have been bleached ... save for the red and white.
A male halfling courtier can be seen on her right, smiling and engaging in no shortage of flirtatious behavior. Although at first glance, it appears as though the female lightfoot on the throne is having none of it, her cheeks blush and she wears the smallest of smiles.
The two courting halflings are flanked on either side by a lion and a unicorn, regal beasts, one magical... one mundane, but both incredible in their own right.
Written in the corner of the painting is the name "Jacqueline Dulcimer".
[/COLOR][/FONT]
[tface=Callig]"DARKNESS
My arms and legs spread-eagle
The pain is too great
I soon become little more
Than a base thing full of hate
I cry out for help
Yet no one will hear
My entire being
Is consumed by the fear
Horrifying sounds
Echo through waters deep
Black tentacles, long and slick,
Along the floor, start to creep...
Images and flashes affecting my dreams
Beware my child, for not all is as it seems
Broken and weary,
For lost innocence, I search and find,
The shattered pieces,
Of my fractured mind."[/tface]
Quote
(http://paizo.com/image/product/catalog/PZOPDFRSP/PZOPDFRSP101122E_500.jpeg)
[COLOR="Lime"][FONT="Georgia"]A new painting has been produced by Jacqueline, done quickly as though by a man possessed. The painting appears far from rushed, however, and no doubt it does what a painting of this sort would do - evoke horror.
Produced from the darkest recesses of Jacqueline's haunted dreams, perhaps without conscious understanding of what she was producing, this painting depicts something large and wholly alien lurking in brackish waters. The many eyes of this horrific creature appear fixated on the viewer; no doubt to stare too long into this beast's eyes within the confines of reality would make one fall into a state of madness.
Many tentacles, long and slick, can be seen coming from the beast, and they appear to reach out. Some of them wrap around cyclopean structures that seem to refuse to adhere to normal geometry, which lurk within the water itself.
Various strange symbols and sigils can be seen flanking the painting in certain places; to try and read them would probably cause one to retch. One cannot help but wonder what sort of troubled mind would produce such a beautifully terrifying work of art. [/FONT][/COLOR]
(http://fc07.deviantart.net/fs16/f/2007/171/d/f/Xel__lotath_7_point_Attack_by_Ryu_Gi.jpg)
[tface=Callig]A MAN MOST NOBLE
A man most noble, quite hard to find;
Stands out quite a bit from those of his kind,
While some look down their noses at their lessers and scoff,
He proved that he wasn't merely some churlish toff
His name was Hadrian, of the Kenvaren house,
When it came time for battle, he was surely no mouse.
With greatsword in hand, he struck foes with fury,
Not with brute force and strength, but with finesse in a flurry!
A gentleman in manner, oh - what a sight!
He was no doubt worthy of the title "knight"
He sent brigands and rogues to run in a fright
And always stood beside his friends as they fought H'Bala's blight.
Unfortunately for Hadrian, he would meet his end,
And I would lose one who I regarded a friend,
Death would claim him early - what an injustice it must seem!
To find noble Kenvaren lie naked, pilfered, in a stream.[/tface]
[tface=Callig]THREE ROGUES
Gaevynn, Gaevynn, his head has a shrub,
Gaevynn, Gaevynn, non-elves he does snub,
Fighting on behalf of the King-to-Be,
He now lies on the Wall of Infamy,
His blade's always Angwi, his mood's always dour,
How can one stand an elf who's so sour?
He always guards Vasily Oozefriend,
They fight 'gainst the Maiden to postpone the End,
He longs for a lover, a putrid old hag,
When his search fails, his heart it does sag,
The slime trails he leaves gets on everyone's patiences,
As do his many friends and all his acquaintances.
Ronald Fryth, a depraved malcontent,
One has to wonder where his sense may have went.
Stabbing a knight in the back with his sword,
No remorse to be shown as he cut away life's cord,
He condemns the dead for their eyes made of coal,
But the only thing black around here is his soul.[/tface]
[tface=Callig]INK MOST BLACK
Ink most black dripping on the page,
I am far removed from the learn'd sage,
My mind, from brilliance, is far removed,
I am hardly a great scholar or a talented mage.
Yet from my soul I write, not in analytical treatise,
Not in lemmas and axioms, not with theorems in series,
I draw meaning from work in ways these men don't,
I chase down purpose in places still others won't.[/tface]
[tface=Callig]WITHERING AWAY
I am slowly withering away,
Quicker with each passing day,
The flies gather one by one,
The maggots in my skin here to stay.
Despite the cures offered by the priest,
The promises of the old crone,
Save for the insects that swarm me,
I stand all alone.
Despite my cries of pain and my groans,
All come to ignore me.
My groans become hungry wails, tortured moans...
Soon I fear that my mind is not my own.
Before long, I become the Maiden's slave.
'Tis your flesh that I desire and crave.[/tface]
[tface=Callig]LITTLE BLACK VIAL
A little black vial is all I need,
For what it brings to me.
Within my mind, it's planted its seed,
For what pleasure I do see.
A rush consumes me,
Then a feeling of bliss,
Then incredible vigor,
Something quite hard to miss.
I feel numb,
To the pain of the world,
I could sail the seas,
With my mast now unfurled.
Yet if I go without,
My little black vial,
What I face, dear reader,
Becomes quite the trial.
In incredible pain,
It becomes what I crave,
I easily blow,
What I meticulously save.
Does this make me a monster,
Sickeningly depraved?
Does it mean I'm preyed upon,
By some rogue or some knave?
Perhaps.
For I'd brave death or walk a great many miles...
To taste of the other world,
The world of pleasure,
Brought by the little black vial.[/tface]
[tface=Callig]SIR TYBAULT
Sir Tybault, unremarkable, was not a brave knight,
In fact he was craven, and barely knew how to fight,
With clumsiness and brute force did he swing his flail,
Yet in spite of this, he saw victory where others did fail.
For noble Sir Tybault was obscenely rich,
And always had a potion for when he was in a pinch,
For why show your skill, your talents and abilities,
When you can easily use an apothecary's facilities?
Eventually, Sir Tybault, he encountered his better,
His sword, used in battle, was considerably wetter,
He was clever of mind and had actual skill,
And noble Sir Tybault, he intended to kill.
Sir Tybault did drink every draught, every curative,
Every vial, every flask, every minor abjurative,
He was invincible! He could not know defeat,
His foe in combat, Kelemvor he'd surely meet!
The man fought 'gainst Sir Tybault, repelling blow after blow,
Not any blood was spilled on the freshly fallen snow.
Tybault did not realize, his foe bided his time,
For Tybault's potions to wear off - what irony most sublime!
As the last of the potions ceased to have effect,
Tybault was outmatched, his tombstone you can check,
His epitath remarks that the man's final cry,
Was that the 'great' warrior seriously lacked supply.[/tface]
[tface=Callig]TWINKLETOES
Who's that fellow with the fez,
And the rather long nose,
You know who he is,
His name's Twinkletoes!
A comedian of legend,
He once roamed the land,
Shaking his maracas,
In his thick meaty hands.
He brought a laugh to many,
Though here lies a riddle;
How did a gnome,
Wind up in that fiddle?
Truth is, he's but a figment,
Of our own imaginations,
A magical illusion,
Playing on worldly sensations!
But that does not mean he's not real,
He's as real as can be.
One just has to be fooled,
By what your own eyes might see.
He ran for Lord-Mayor,
In the year of '82,
He was willing to make a sandwich,
The Lord-Captain too!
He would have seen the Market Hall,
Soar above clouds,
His dizzying speeches delivered,
Brought large laughing crowds.
He stepped out of the race,
Giving others their space,
There was not much to satire,
For t'was clearly a disgrace!
Now he goes searching,
for the Crown of the Isles,
A journey for which,
He has walked many miles.
So when you hear,
Some maracas shake,
'Tis no reason for your heart,
To begin to shake!
He will make you laugh,
So it becomes hard to breathe,
He'll grant you no quarter,
Certainly no reprieve.
How does he do it?
Nobody knows.
A great gnome like no other,
His name's Twinkletoes![/tface]
[tface=Callig]THE BRIDGE IS OUT
The bridge is out, the bridge is out!
'Tis quite time to worry, 'tis quite time to doubt!
The paupers and beggars, the men of great clout,
All are inconvenienced, for the bridge... it is out!
The troll that lived under, who loved to plunder,
Watched his lovely home get torn asunder,
What would cause this brute to go into rout,
It does not take a wizard to figure that out,
My friends, my fellow citizens - the bridge... it is out!
The merchants and their oxen gripe and complain,
"You must go around," the constable explains,
The merchant talks on about his crippling gout,
The pain in his foot he won't stop rambling about,
He must walk around all the same - for the bridge, it is out!
From the upright man, to the most villainous lout,
From the elders who prattle, to the children who pout,
From the tall and lanky, to the short and the stout,
All are inconvenienced, for the bridge is still out![/tface]
[tface=Callig]ODE TO A FRIEND
I ask for a miracle,
To come on your behalf,
Or perhaps a great spell,
From an archmage's staff,
Anything and everything,
'till nothing's left in my purse,
For your freedom from her touch,
Freedom from that curse.
You traveled to unhallowed grounds,
In search of a cure,
You were hopeful it was there,
In fact you were sure.
Yet there was nothing holy there,
There was nothing pure.
Nothing you could do,
From resisting her allure.
Now you are damned,
To a fate worse than death,
With every step that you take,
She steals some of your breath.
Now fair Christine,
Is worse off than a widow,
When will she stop crying,
Into her small pillow?
I hope rest soon sees you,
That you know a paladin's purge,
I will be most pleased,
When I can play your funeral dirge.
Of before, not of now,
Are the memories I keep,
Yet what you've become haunts me,
Haunts me while I sleep.[/tface]
[tface=Callig]IN THE COURT OF THE FEY PRINCE
Here walks the prince, wearing his thorny crown,
Soon follow are the nymphs, wearing gossamer gowns,
Hoary hunters ride by on glimmering steeds,
Pixie servants fly 'round, tending to the court's needs.
The grigs are enraptured, the sprites all bend knee,
At the arrival of the Prince, the great Thopsee Shee,
All are quite jolly, at His Benevolence's decree,
Faerie fire starts to dance for all mortals to see.
Tents are erected, with many bright hues,
Mortals come to play games (woe betide those who lose),
From the young barmaid Julie, to the carpenter Neville,
All join eternity, in the great endless revel.[/tface]
[tface=Callig]FROM MY BALCONY WINDOW
From my balcony up high,
In the darkness of the night sky.
There is much comfort I find,
Which I use to get by.
When my thoughts turn dark, I look to the moon,
That shining orb with its many tears, fairest Selûne,
When I lose focus and look, to the oblivion of Shar,
I concentrate and look instead to the Red Star.
The stars and constellations dance slowly around,
To an inaudible song, to a celestial sound,
Beauty in simple things can be easily found,
Focus on the sky, dear, not just on the ground.[/tface]
QuoteA TALE OF TWO SISTERS
A Comedy by Jacqueline Dulcimer
CHARACTERS:
Lodia â€" Chandra
Jacqueline â€" Sandra
Maximilian â€" Renard
Chandra and Sandra: A pair of hin lasses who allow their vanity and their jealousy towards one another to get the better of them.
Renard: A debonaire, charming gnomish thief, who plans to seduce and rob Sandra.
[The entire play takes place within a halfling burrow. The backdrop will be done via signs on the right-hand side, and there will be two chairs, a table, and a bed placed within the arena, where it will be performed. There will also be a few chests and shelves covered with what appear to be valuables.]
[Chandra and Sandra walk on stage, from the same side, laughing and looking merry as they set baskets-worth of fruit on the table, center-stage, which is also adorned with a silver candlestick holder.]
Chandra: Oh my goodness, can you believe what prices that other merchant was going to charge us?
Sandra: I know, it’s absurd, right? By Yondalla, I cannot imagine why he thought we had that much silver on us!
Chandra: It’s beyond me, sister. Anyhow, you said you wanted to talk to me about something, once we were through going to market.
Sandra: Well, it’s just that I’ve met this gnomish fellow â€" he’s not from around here, but my goodness, he is such the gentleman… and a hunk, to boot. [titters] His name is Renard, and… well, he’s a gnome, which I know sounds really strange…
Chandra: What?!
Sandra: Look, come on, I invited him over for dinner tonight, and I think you’d find him really nice!
Chandra: [panicks] Why did you go and do that!? This place is a mess… oh, goodness, what are we going to prepare for dinner?! You should’ve told me, I would have made you both something nice like a quiche or maybe a casserole, or maybe a casserole-quiche, and…
Sandra: [holds up a hand, as if to console her sister] Relax, I’ve got it all under control…
A series of knocks are heard. Off-stage, the sound of several pots and pans falling can be heard.
Sandra: Well, I had it under control. [calls out loudly] Coming! [moves quickly over towards the ‘door’, in this case, stage-left, where Renard waits, holding a bouquet of roses]
Renard: [smiles charmingly underneath his mustache beard] … Ah! My beautiful darling! How are you this eve? Well, I hope? I am certainly doing quite wonderfully, as I’ve been given the esteemed privilege of being allowed to court someone whose beauty would make Lady Firehair turn green with envy!
Sandra: [blushes and beams] You’re too kind, Renard â€" won’t you come in?
Renard: [steps inside, turning to face the audience, giving a nefarious smile as he offers an aside] Mwehehehe! I’m a thief! The best thief. This dumb lass is so smitten by me, I’ll rob her and her friend out of house and home! Mwehehehe!
Chandra: What?!
Sandra: [looks at Chandra with confusion]
Chandra: Did you not hear that? [gestures to Renard, looking incredulously at Sandra]
Sandra: Hear what?
Chandra: The gnome is a thief! He just said so in some sort of villainous monologue!
Sandra: Chandra, stop acting strange â€" Renard is nothing short of a total gentleman.
[Renard, in a completely unsubtle manner, decides to steal the silver candlestick holder on the table. Chandra stares on dumbfounded, before trying to get Sandra’s attention!]
Chandra: Sandra, look!
Sandra: Uh, what?
Chandra: Look! He’s stealing from us! He is very obviously stealing from us! We should get the guards!
Renard hides the candlestick holder in his tunic, before deciding that won’t work, instead sticking it in his trousers.
Sandra: [looks around, staring blankly at the table] .. Goodness, I could have sworn I placed the candlestick holder on the table, did it fall off the table and get lost somewhere? It was there only but an hour before! How am I supposed to have a romantic dinner with Renard… without candles?!
Chandra: He just stole the candles, stupid! There’s a rather obvious bulge in his trousers!
Sandra: [suddenly focuses on Renard’s trousers, pressing a hand towards her chest] .. Oh my. Renard, my goodness.
[Chandra mumbles something like “excuse usâ€, before pushing Sandra, who is continuing to stare at Renard’s codpiece shamelessly, off the stage, which is basically “outside†for the purposes of the play.]
Chandra: For Yondalla’s sake, Sandra!
Sandra: You know what, Chandra?
Chandra: What?
Sandra: I think you’re jealous.
Chandra: Jealous? Of what, exactly?!
Sandra: That this stud of a gnome and I are an item, and you’re left out in the cold! Listen, this doesn’t jeopardize our relationship as sisters, and I’m pretty sure we can find you someone who, you know, would be willing to date you!
Chandra: Look â€" the man is clearly a thief. Why can’t you see that? The man practically reeks of larceny. He’d burgle his own mother if he were given the opportunity and proper incentive, I think! Look at him. [narrows her eyes and points at Renard, as if viewing him through a window] … Beady little eyes. Shady-looking hat. Curly mustache… come on, what was the first thing mother taught us? [beat] Never to trust a man with a mustache that thin, come on!
Sandra: Listen, Chandra… this is really petty of you, and I can’t see why you can’t just trust Renard and be nice to him. Listen, why don’t you just go and take a walk, let me enjoy my romantic evening, and stop ruining it for me!
Chandra: Fine. You’re not going to listen to reason. Maybe it’s time I moved out, anyway. All the stuff in that burrow is yours anyway, so it’s no snot on my nose if he turns out to be what I said he was. [scoffs] So I am leaving! Goodbye!
[The two have a momentary scoff-off. Sandra scoffs after Chandra says ‘goodbye’, Chandra responds with a scoff, Sandra with a derisive snort, and so on and so forth ad absurdam. Eventually, Sandra makes her way back inside while Chandra goes upstairs to rest in the Mist’s End. Renard is hiding, waiting for Sandra to get back inside (on stage).]
Sandra: Renard? Darling? [speaks in a husky, suggestive voice] My sister’s gone, now the truly fun part can begin…
Renard: Indeed, it can! [clocks Sandra on the head with a mallet, knocking her out]
[The gnome proceeds to heft her over towards a chair, tying her to it, while he proceeds to take a sack and loot the ‘house’ of everything valuable. He talks as he pilfers everything…]
Renard: You’re brilliant, Renard â€" simply brilliant! It’s almost remarkable how well you charm the pants - quite literally - off these ladies, and every single time they leave breadcrumbs right to the jewels! [picks up something, picking up a golden goblet] … Mmm. Not really gold, too light. Must be gilded. Ah, well, might still be valuable! [tosses it in his bag, before continuing to rifle about]
Sandra: [stirs, looking around with a bleary expression] .. Whuh…
Renard: … Ah, she stirs! Good evening, m’dear. I think you mentioned a desire to be tied up in one of our private conversations, though I’m pretty sure this is not how you envisioned such an evening would unfold. You see! I’m afraid you’ve been hoodwinked â€" granted, it’s not your fault, many others have fallen for my clever ruse before… all love-struck individuals such as yourself! Fact of the matter is, I’m simply too good!
Sandra: [begins to struggle and tug on the ropes, finding little give] … You’ll never get away with this! [suddenly frowns] … Oh gods, Chandra was right. She was right and I was wrong â€" ugh, I’m going to hate having to admit that to her.
Renard: I’m… almost done here. Just have to.. reach this top shelf. What is a bookshelf this high doing in a halfling burrow, anyway? [takes a step-ladder and tries to get up on the bookshelf to reach an expensive vase]
Sandra: [looks to the audience as she begins an aside] .. Listen, I need you to get Chandra and tell her that I’m in trouble, all right? One of you, go and tell her! Don’t just sit there in the seats!
Renard: What are you doing? You can’t break the fourth wall, only I can do that! [gags her]
[Sandra makes numerous noises from behind her gag and strikes at Renard’s groin soon after, causing the gnome to double-over briefly.]
Renard: [holds his nether regions protectively, wincing in clear pain as he gets back up] I’m fine.. ! I’m fine! I’m.. I’m fine. Damn, right in Garl’s golden nuggets…
Renard resumes his pilfering, and eventually, one of the audience members gets Chandra from upstairs in the Mist’s End (who is told by the audience member that Sandra is in trouble and doesn’t break character â€" improvise!) â€" she comes down to rescue her sister, arriving on-stage with a gasp.
Chandra: I knew it!
Renard: Oh, it’s you… aye, you nearly rumbled me for a moment there. Sadly, this is where I depart, I’m afraid! I’ve everything I need in this bag right here. [pats it down] Farewell! [pauses, attempting to use a wand which fizzles] … Blast. Never should’ve trusted that sorcerer.
Chandra: [withdraws a shortsword]
Renard: [withdraws his own shortsword] .. So this is how it’s going to be, huh? Well, fine, en guarde, madameoisselle!
[The two begin to have a small swordfight on the stage. This will be more or less improvised. Witty banter will occur throughout, and it will be a chance to show off some interesting blade-play. Once the fight has gone on for long enough, Chandra straddles Renard, who is now held at swordpoint.]
Chandra: Right, I’m only going to ask you once â€" leave, and never come back.
Renard: Ehm.. all right, I’ll just.. leave. You all, uhm, can keep the valuables. I’ll just… [steps off-stage anxiously, eyeing Chandra as she keeps the sword trained on him, before simply running off towards the end]
[Chandra gives an expression, as if to say, “good riddanceâ€, before moving to Sandra and cutting away at the ropes that bind her, removing the gag. She gives a smug look at Sandra.]
Sandra: What?
Chandra: I want you to say it.
Sandra: .. You’ve got to be kidding.
Chandra: Say it!
Sandra: [sighs] You were right… and I’m sorry I accused you of being jealous, sister. You matter to me more than I think anyone will perhaps ever know. Will you forgive me? Can you forgive me?
Chandra: We’re sisters, it’s already been forgiven. Now, let’s get something to eat from the neighbor’s place. I heard they’re throwing a party, and some handsome hin lad’s going to be there.
Sandra: I might pass on a relationship for right now.. [laughs gently]
[The two exit the stage.]
QuoteTHE PRICE
A Tragedy Most Diabolical
Written and produced by Jacqueline Dulcimer
((Based on ‘The Tragical History of Doctor Faustus’, by Christopher Marlowe, and ‘Faust’ by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe)).
CAST
Mephistopheles - The Lord of the Eighth, and the Duke of Cania. He offers a deal for Felix’s soul, as well as serving as the narrator of the story in various parts.
Felix - A wizard who sells his soul to Mephistopheles.
Lucretia - Felix’s wife.
ACT I
[A desk covered in various scrolls and arcane codices can be seen in front of a backdrop, depicting the inside of a series of tenements, constructed from wood. Past the drapes that adorn the window looking out, a large, splendorous, and clean city can be seen and beyond the gates, verdant hills forming the horizon that the sun is only now peeking its head over.]
[Felix, a magician in drab clothing, enters to sit by his desk, a frustrated look on his face as he bends over and attempts to study the notes he has compiled. He drinks from a glass resting on the desk, filled with what appears to be scotch. He begins to grind his teeth, crumpling up a few of the papers on the desk in anger. Felix exhales, looking over a book about the arcane, flipping through a few pages as if impatient and eager to dig in to find the answers he seeks quickly.]
[A hooded figure with a flaming, possibly unholy ranseur, moves towards the audience, looking directly at them as he addresses them, and narrates the story..]
Mephistopheles: … I have revealed myself to you all, but not to him. Not yet, at least. There is a time for everything, and his time can wait. It shall surely come soon enough. I have forseen what fate has in store for he. [smiles thinly underneath his hood] But allow me to … introduce myself. [removes his hood, revealing the appearance of a gentleman, albeit appearing quite diabolic at the same time] I go by a great many names. Some call me ‘the Master of Hellfire’, others refer to me as the ‘Cold Lord’, and still others call me the ‘Crimson Son’. But the simplest name is often the best - thus, call me Mephistopheles.
[gestures to the man working at the desk] This.. poor soul is Felix of Damara. He is an aspiring magus, at least in name... but while most of those who even think of studying the Art know that magic requires years of study to get right and perhaps even centuries to fully master, that is a slow thing to learn... Felix has always thought of magic something that would deliver upon him instant gratification and that is what he so demands; because he has not gotten what he has wished for the most, he has cursed all of the gods both for his slow progress, rather than blaming himself.. for his own impatience.
[Suddenly, Felix yells out in frustration and rage, taking a glass of scotch and throwing it to the ground. A female voice calls out from off-stage...]
Lucretia: Felix! Felix, are you okay?!
Mephistopheles: ‘Tis my cue to depart for now, and watch this all unfold.. until it is time to reveal myself properly. [runs to backstage, from stage-left]
Lucretia: [cautiously enters from stage-right, peering into the room slowly, wearing a plain-looking dress] .. F-.. Felix?
Felix: [buries his face in his hands, not looking up towards Lucretia] .. These books, these codices, the tomes I read, the scrolls I pour over. They .. don’t explain anything. They’re impossible to wrap my mind around. Nothing my master taught me prepared me for this.. I should be capable of performing feats beyond what mundane minds are capable of by now!
Lucretia: .. You only finished being an apprentice to Protaeon a few months ago. [looks concerned, before offering a faint, encouraging smile] Give it some time, I’m sure... I don’t mind working as a barmaid for a little while longer, if it means you’re spending time doing what you enjoy.
Felix: [exhales, rising to hug Lucretia and lightly peck her on the cheek, looking in her eyes with a smile on his face as they stand close] I.. just wish I could learn magic quicker, so I can make life better for both you and me. Do you imagine how much magic can do for us? We’ll cease to be mere peasants, and we’ll dwell in a castle! Both you and me, and I’ll treat you like a princess..
Lucretia: … Hee! Well, you’ll always be my prince charming, no matter how much coin we have. Don’t worry, I can stave off our money-grubbing landlord, you just focus on learning magic, my little wizard-in-training. Oh, and... hey.. [leans forward and stage-whispers] .. come to the bedroom in about 30 minutes and I’ll be treating you like a king. [walks off-stage, blowing a kiss to Felix as she does so]
Felix: [smiles at her until she walks off-stage, his smile slowly fading as he turns his attention back to and stares at the various parchments and tomes covering his desk] … She works so hard, and yet no matter how I try, I cannot advance in my studies at all. Truly, the gods hate me and want me to suffer.. they demand that my love and I to stay forever in this accursed squalor. [exhales] She works, and I work, and yet we both go nowhere. If only I could master magic quicker than I have been! Then I could make both of our dreams go true.. [looks up towards the sky hopefully, then down at his desk] … oh, I would give my soul for that.
[Suddenly, in a burst of ‘hellfire’, Mephistopheles emerges on-stage, appearing to apparate before Felix. Felix jumps up, knocking his chair over, yet remains silent, his fear palpable as he eyes the stranger.]
Mephistopheles: [smiles] Easy, now. Relax.
Felix: W-w-w-who are you? How did you get in here? [swallows audibly, eyeing the ‘man’ with apprehension] WHAT... are you?
Mephistopheles: I am simply someoone who wants your greatest wish to come true. I could not help but overhear you. [wraps an arm around Felix, his hand sporting long, black fingenails, and his phalanges appearing as though claws]
Felix: [winces, looking at the hand with visible disgust, before forcing a grin] How can you help me? [looks over Mephistopheles warily again, the grin fading] What can you possibly do for me, strange being.. ?
Mephistopheles: You spoke of a desire to learn magic faster, did you not.. ? I can grant you the ability to skim through books and know all that there is to know inside them, to look at a scroll and copy it instantly, to know... all there is to know about the world. You will be capable of ingesting information at a rate most mortals would regard as impossible - unthinkable! All this can be yours for the simple price of something so insignificant that you will never notice it going missing.
Felix: That being.. ?
Mephistopheles: … Your soul.
Felix: [jumps away from Mephistopheles and out of his arm, moving all the way to the other side of the stage, looking terrified] You.. you’re a fiend! A devil, even?!
Mephistopheles: [laughs mockingly] It took you that long to figure that out, did you.. ? My, you have a long way to go, dear Felix, if you are to become the archmage you see yourself as, years from now. But.. devil.. fiend? These are improper terms to use, terms the gods and their servants use to misrepresent the truth.
We are angels, albeit fallen ones. I once bore wings - a pair of them.. [sighs wistfully, as he looks up, before returning his attention to Felix] All we want is to make life better for you, and for your wife. I’ve personally watched how she has slaved to pay the rent. You want life to be better for you both, but your progress is slow.. though you KNOW that knowing magic is the way to cross the great divide between the nobility and the commons. The difference between a hedge-mage who knows a few spells and an archmage who knows all of them is the difference between having their wife cleaning floors and their wife being in a noble’s court, perhaps a noble themselves...
Felix: I’m just not sure I want to give up my soul...
Mephistopheles: Come, now, Felix. You owe this to your wife, and you owe it to yourself. You’ve worked hard, and working hard is not merely enough these days. You have to find a easy way, a shortcut, and that is what I am offering you. A way to power, for a pair of poor unfortunate individuals. The price is small, and I’ll tell you what... [holds up a finger]
Felix What is it?
Mephistopheles: Your soul will only be collected whenever you’ve felt as though you have learned the most important thing you'll ever come to learn within your life. That way, you can live an unnaturally long, plentiful life as those who truly understand the Art are want to do, AND you'll die knowing everything and thus be truly content. Who knows? You might even achieve what they have been incapable of...
Felix: Oh, my. This is.. this is a sound deal. Where do I sign?
Mephistopheles: [takes out a scroll bearing the contract and infernal pact, along with a quill, gesturing to the bottom] Right here. [hands the quill to Felix]
Felix: [appears about ready to write his name, before suddenly having his finger magically pricked by the quill, blood dripping onto the contract - he resists exclaiming loudly, instead shaking his hand, hissing, looking up towards Mephistopheles with anxiety]
Mephistopheles: Come now, Felix, the hard part is over! Go to your books! Go to your books and tomes and scrolls and behold your new talents! [gestures to the desk] I am off to make more dreams come true, my good man. Enjoy yourself. [grins diabolically, before he disappears just as he left, in a flash of hellfire]
Felix: [reluctantly sits down by his desk, cracking opening a book - his eyes bulge, and begins to flip to another page, and to another, and to another, flipping through the book with incredible speed, before shutting it, blinking several times as he looks over himself in amazement - he grabs another book and begins to flip through another at an incredible rate of speed, grinning diabolically in a smile that mirrors Mephistopheles’ own as he speeds through the works before him]
[Fade to black, exeunt, change of scene.]
ACT II
[The desk remains, but the backdrop has changed. On the stone wall is a picture of Felix, his expression stern and calculating, wearing the clothes of nobility. Books litter the ground about the desk, whilst the window reveals a bustling metropole, though most buildings below appear to be mere shanties, the city appearing as though beyond repair and suffering from untold squalor. It is night, and the window overlooks the whole city, as well as providing a wondrous view of the stars themselves, leading the audience to believe that they are inside a wizard’s tower or a castle of some kind... perhaps a combination of both?]
[Enter Mephistopheles, hooded, providing narration and background on our protagonist...]
Mephistopheles: Only a few years has gone by, and Felix has become a wizard of immense power, and he has succeeded all my expectations of him. The old lord of the city has been eliminated and now Felix rules the city, though he has grown paranoid and fearful... and restless. Those who speak ill of him disappear, and all others pay a hefty tax that keeps them poor. Those who were his enemies before - his landlord, those who laughed at him for attempting the Art year earlier - now lie rotting in a dungeon, where they will never again see the light of day.
He sees himself as all-powerful, yet he continues to sate his desire for information, knowing his journey is incomplete.. and this desire is sated often at the expense of other things. He sends agents far and wide to find him new lore to uncover, to pour over... and not everyone is happy about how he spends his time, and about what he has become. Observe... [Exits stage-left.]
[Felix and Lucretia enter stage-right, clothed as nobles - in colorful and refined clothing that contrasts greatly with the clothing they wore in Act I. Felix carries a glass of champagne, smiling wide. Lucretia’s expression, however, is melancholy, appearing almost miserable.]
Felix: What a party! I enjoyed myself greatly at the gala, Lucretia. Didn’t you?
Lucretia: .. Aye.. [sounds entirely disingenuous, her head lowered] I did. I enjoyed myself.
Felix: You know, it’s remarkable. But a few years ago, we were like the others here. [moves to the window, looking out over the city, or appearing to] Worthless wretches, no better than livestock.. [turns back to face Lucretia, his expression cold] But we made it, Lucretia. Look where we are. We made it. I made it. I made it all happen.. for the both of us.
Lucretia: [takes out a fine handkerchief and begins to sob into it quietly, turning away from Felix]
Felix: What is the matter. [suddenly looks over Lucretia sternly, as if demanding to know, showing little visible concern, more annoyed than concerned]
Lucretia: I.. I can’t stand to look at you anymore.
Felix: Explain your words, woman.
Lucretia: You are not the man I loved and got married to. I don’t know what happened to you, but ever since you got serious about your studies, you’ve been ignoring me.
Felix: Ah, I see.. [smiles lustfully] It has been some time since we huffed each other, hasn’t it? [wraps his arms around her waist, his hands moving slowly upwards towards her bosom]
Lucretia: No! [takes his hands off her, looking at Felix with a fiery anger in her eyes] … You don’t listen to me! It is as though I am but your trophy, something to show off. Throughout that gala, you just showed me off! Then I stood silently by your side while you spoke to your .. mage friends! Who are, by the way, all terrible people. It’s them, isn’t it? Being around them? They’ve made you this way... I know it, I know it!
I’ve been miserable, Felix. All I ever see you do is pour over your books. If you’re not doing that, then you’re issuing decrees to raise taxes! You’ve taxed everyone to death! People we knew... they’re in our dungeon!
Felix: [shouts out angrily] They LAUGHED at me... [trails off, before his lip quivers, looking as though betrayed as he looks to Lucretia] Did you not remember the second wedding we held but a few months ago? Was it not a magical experience for you? Did you not enjoy it?
Lucretia: [exhales, looking down at the ground] It was much more lavish a ceremony. There were massive chandeliers overhead, and there were many more people who saw us being wed.. for the most part, I remember your eyes... staring at me before, when we first wed. Those eyes were deep, and they said ‘I love you’. I did not see those eyes in our second wedding.
Felix: [scowls deeply] Do you know what I gave up for you? What I did to make you happy? To take you away from that damned drinking hole? I gave my SOUL for you!
Lucretia: [shakes her head, giving the words of Felix little thought, thinking it a mere figure of speech] .. You don’t even give me so much of a thought, unless you want me to sate your desire for flesh.
Felix: You ungrateful trollop! After ALL I’ve done for you! After having given you all that your heart could desire...
Lucretia: I desired YOU! I loved you, and you.. and you.. [shakes her head, closing her eyes, remaining silent for a fair few minutes, before speaking in a warbling voice] I .. I’m leaving you, Felix. We’re finished.
Felix: No.. no.. [shakes his head, before taking out his staff, pointing its tip directly for Lucretia, the staff bristling with arcane energy] You are not.. leaving me. If I cannot have you, then no one shall.
Lucretia: [takes out a rapier, balancing it in her hands, looking at Felix with a mixture of disgust and pity] .. I had a feeling you would say something like this. You’re.. a monster, you know that? It.. saddens me to see you like this. But perhaps I can put the FENCING LESSONS you gave me to GOOD USE!
[Lucretia lunges to the left and sticks Felix with her rapier, blood seeping through his fine silk outfit. Lucretia tries to slice at Felix again, but finds her blade stopped by the wizard’s staff, which he uses to parry the blow. Further improvised choreography follows, before Lucretia is pushed onto her back by Felix, and Felix points his staff directly for her stomach. A gout of lightning consumes Lucretia, and she lies dead. Felix, for a moment, stares at her corpse, frowning, but he does not look at her with compassion, but instead as one would look at an animal slain by another.]
Felix: [exhales] .. There will be others. Others who will grow to respect you. Others who will recognize you for who you are and love you unconditionally. She was beneath you, Felix... [kicks the ‘dead’ body gently, before exiting]
[As Lucretia lies there, still, Mephistopheles comes out.]
Mephistopheles: … and it was at this point that Felix became more monster than man, and the Lady Firehair herself died a little that evening.
[Fade to black, exeunt. Change of scene.]
ACT III
[The scene has changed yet again. Cobwebs surround the desk and even more books can be seen around it, though all show age. Ivy has entered inside via the window and has started to cover the stone wall inside. The setting resembles the castle or wizard’s tower in Act II, but it seems as though nature has reclaimed the area around it, and part of it. The city is gone, and in its place lay tall cyclopean ruins surrounded by the a thick forest glen. The world has changed. Mephistopheles enters from stage-right, wearing a hood as before.]
Mephistopheles: … Aeons have passed, thousands upon thousands of years... and the world has moved on, and yet Felix still lives. Having found the secret to both immortality and eternal youth, he dwells in his tower, looking the same as he did in life. Yet his humanity is missing, and he has become something else, as alien as the landscape that surrounds him.
He knows all that was, all that is, and all that shall be, all that can be understood by mortal ken... but still he hunts for knowledge. Craves it. He leaves his tower only to travel through the vast ruined libraries, wracked by time, searching for any piece of lore, arcane knowledge, or secret that he does not know... he aways leaves with his hands empty, as rarely does what is written survive the passage of centuries, millennia..
Thus, he has spent his days alone... [stands in place as Felix enters] Well, almost. Any success in finding that missing piece of the puzzle? The one thing you do not know? [removes his hood, offering a winning smile towards Felix]
Felix: [enters, wearing a dustier form of the noble robes he wore before, tattered in places] .. I have not. I cannot satisfy myself. I have to search for more, and more...
Mephistopheles: Have you tried searching for information regarding other worlds?
Felix: [shakes his head, grunting with unpleasantness] I know all there is about other worlds. Everything that is of import. Everything that is worth knowing, I already know. Sod the rest.
Mephistopheles: Immortality is as much a curse as it is a boon, I see you have discovered. What you say, however, is a falsehood. You desire something, even though you think that you know everything.
Felix: [appears introspective] .. you have been the only one around to keep me company. It’s been so quiet here. I’ve spent centuries here, watching as the world has moved on. This world is alien to me, I understand none of it, even though I know all about it... [gestures out the window, exhaling] I am the most powerful man in all the lands, and yet there is no one for me to share my knowledge with, none for me to impress... [exhales, suddenly grasping his head, as he exclaims] You HAVE to let me die! Please, take my soul. I am begging you...
Mephistopheles: I am sorry, but as I told you before, contractual agreements are contractual agreements. I will only release you from your immortal state when you've come to learn the most important thing you shall learn in your entire life.
Felix: By the Mother of All Magic, I’ve.. I made a mistake. [frowns, looking to Mephistopheles, his face contorting into a scowl as he continues to behold him] .. I.. I just realized what a fool I am. All these years, I’ve never realized how good I had it, with .. with.. what was her name, I cannot even remember... I .. I was so happy with her, even if I was but a mageling, then. That’s what I should have known from the start. That was the hole that was missing from within me.. she completed me. But now I can’t even remember her name!
Mephistopheles: [suddenly beams, a diabolical smile on his face] Her name .. was Lucretia, my friend.
Felix: [winces at the name, showing genuine contrition] .. Oh, Lucretia, I should have never... done what I did to you. But at least you’re in a better place. That, at least, puts me at peace. Truly, at peace... and being able to ascribe a name to that face that I see in my memories.. it is magnificent.
Mephistopheles: [pulls out his ranseur, smiling] How sweet. I'd say it's important that you know now that you erred in making a deal with me... far more important than anything you may have learned in a book, yes?
Felix: [sighs, before saying almost unthinkingly] Aye...
Mephistopheles [laughs cruelly] Then it is time to pay the piper, as you mortals say. You see, you did make a mistake, my friend. Did you really think you could get out of paying me?
Felix: [seems to ponder for a moment, before coming to a stark, horrifying realization] Wait, no! I didn't mean it! [stands slowly, raising his hands as he looks towards Mephistopheles in terror] Please.. just let me enjoy her memory for but a moment more! I want to live, I want to live for her!
Mephistopheles: That was not in the deal, Felix. Do not fret. I will have a series of special duties for you to complete in Cania. [after a small struggle where Felix uses all his magics to ward Mephistopheles away and Mephistopheles himself is unaffected, Felix is pinned down, slams his ranseur through Felix’s chest, ‘claiming his soul’ - with that, the body lays still] .. Ah, Felix. For a while there, you thought you could outlast me. But what is a millennium or two to a being such as I? Nothing. [laughs, looking over Felix the same way a man would view a worm, before turning to look to the audience]
So let this be a warning to those who think there is a shortcut that can be exploited to one’s advantage - there is no easy path that can be taken to greatness that is not earned through hard work.. and those who deal with one such as I or try to outwit beings powerful than they should know their hubris will have them end up as Felix - doomed to a fate much worse than death.
[Fade to black, exeunt.]