Theater Front
Tenebrae - Sunday, January 11, 2015, 6:45 PM
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--<* A04: Theatre District *>=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
While the area contains more than theatre, it is most known for its dueling play houses and established, theatrical families. Competition for talent, especially known actors and playwrights, is fierce. An example of these long-standing, yet well-entrenched feuds are the Flightwright and Flame's Hope--two theatres built within a hundred years of one another yet separated by more than ideology. Owned by opposing families, the various troupes have been unofficially "at war" for over a hundred years.
Ribbons in Ceinara's vibrant colors grace the mismatched and often run-down streets, attesting to the District's colorful and creative background. The buildings possess no single style. Though not the quality in Upper Alexandria, this District possesses a thoroughly bohemian spirit and style amid its contrasting landscapes.
Aside from several well-known theatres, artists and crafters of all sorts make their homes here, as much for company as cheap rent. Callers-out stand on street corners, announcing the latest play, with what's in production reflecting the tone of the times and often, current politics. Street musicians abound, playing instruments or, for more visual artists, offering portraits for a few coppers to silver. Present, too, are Muses and their ilk, whose blessings the houses and various artists compete for.
The very center of the district is home to an open stage, an area raised a few feet from street level and worn flat. Anyone may perform here, and many do, though it's often an area for musician's gatherings and general lounging.
At the mention of being too confident and unsubtle, Aldean's about to throw his head back in laughter when the gobber woman speaks up, and joins them. "Aye, fair winds to ye, Flicker." A smooth baritone voice is marred somewhat by a sailor's brogue. "I be unsubtle, aye?" The very suggestion appears to amuse him greatly. "Aye, do ye join th'Guild, ye'll get tales o' yer own t'write. I've a few to set down meself, but I ain't doin' that right now." The smile fades, completely, as if this isn't a happy topic. "An' do ye like, I'd be pleased t'share one wit' ye ... it be a tale as needs tellin, though me tales be in song." He looks back and forth between the gobber and the llyranesi, questioningly. The group are standing in various places near a lamppost in a district that with the fall of evening is coming to life, talking.
"Yes! Unsubtle." Basil teases before those deep eyes catch Flicker heading forward. There is a consideration of the goblin and her companion, and it would be false to say he didn't seem surprised for at least half a moment. It's not every day you see a pet centipede. Or, maybe it is for this city. However, like the most proper of gentlemen he is, he quickly composes himself, "You're pet's beauty is only outdone by his mistress." Because her cute little warted face speaks of a deep beauty, far above what the common man can see. The Llyranesi shifts his weight hiking up his mandolin. He gives a small chord before passing a wry smile towards Aldean, "Then a song it is! Allow me to back you up!" He motions towards Flicker, "Come! Have a seat, my dear. The night is ripe for stories, is it not?"
Mikilos exits the Hope Theater, a small crowd of thespians following after, fluttering papers at the elf. 'Take my play with you!' 'And mine!' 'No, take mine!' 'Mine!' "Guys. Guys! GUYS! ...no. This is for the Library. To be reviewed and critiqued by scholars for hundreds of years. No edits. No corrections. Every typo, every smudge, every mistake will be remembers and reviewed for ages to come. Is that what you want? Are you -sure- what you have there is the -final- version, that you'll never ever want to change?" A few nervous coughs, and the group shuffles back inside, leaving the elf to shake his head and smile before peering around.
Flicker smiles as it seems Bazil is a tease, with only a simple placing of her had down by the centipede it crawls up and under the cuff of the leather top and can be seen moving up the arm with the movement of covering till it stops somewhere up around by her throat. A glimpse might see that the insect has wrapped itself around her throat and staying there, protected by the soft red furred ruff to keep away the chill of the night. "Indeed. perhaps a gentlemen, but more a rogue I think. But all one will find is fire and burning under the skin. Douse is quite protective as I am of him and my bites hurt more to start, but his are longer lasting." There is a chuckle and she easily slides down the wall and skips over to the other two, "But song and music speak much louder then any flattery that might slip from any tongue." She takes a place nearby on a small curb, leaning back so that her legs can swing. Seems she is always moving, a habit perhaps or something compulsive in her nature rather than hopped on anything ingested or drank.
Then those black eyes hear another commotion and looks over to where Mikilos is left alone from the crowd exiting the theatre. It is only the briefest of looks really before she turns back to the other two, "Play on, play on and we shall hear a tale."
It's about now, when Basil mentions the centipede, that Aldean actually registers the presence of the critter, and eyes the gobber girl for a moment. It doesn't appear to /surprise/ him ... in fact, it seems to mean something to him. His demeanor takes on a different tone -- one of cautious respect. He says nothing, though, only straightening from that casual lean against the lamppost where he's been talking with Flicker and Basil, with a flash of a grin. He raises a hand in greeting, recognizing Mikilos amid the increasingly thick crowds of patrons and musicians alike as the man exits the theater, but seems intent on what he's doing.
"Well enough," he tells Flicker and Basil. "Now, ye know of th'Kulthians, who deemed themselves as th'gods an' was thrown down fer their arrogance ages ago. Loads o' tales speak o' them bein' conquerin' bullies as left trails o' blood and twisted ruin in their wake. Them tales all be true ... but I'd tell ye o' some as defied th'arrogant bastards." He looks over at Basil. "E minor, keep the chording simple. Final two stanzas'll shift to G major, ye'll know when." With that, he fishes a set of panpipes from his belt, and begins to play. The melody he plays is minor in key, a lonely sound that evokes stillness, waiting, and wind across a sand dune. He seems content with the one instrument, though, lowering it after a brief intro to sing alone. There's something curious about the voice, though -- fine, polished, a voice that could cut through a howling storm ... and yet it has a weird cast to it, as if he has a ghostly harmony line.
I am the ancient builder, unparalleled in skill Mine is the honored way of stone and memories on a hill Until the day his men sought me and commanded a great tower That all may know forever his glory and boundless power
But no skill should ever honor greed, nor cruelty nor pride And too many in the cursed path of this would-be god had died So in my work I told of all those his hand had slain A monument to all the real merit of his reign
Basil flicks a few idle chords of his mandolin as he watches Flicker curiously. The centipede makes it's movements up her sleeve and he laughs, "There is always room for charm. This world would be so dull without it." He returns a puckish smile before nodding towards Aldean, "Understood." He begins to make a few final tuning changes with get it ready for those keys as he looks up. Noticing Mikilos, he gives out a soft breath, "So tall for one of my own. How could that be...." That curiosity etched in his features. He finally begins his chords. His play is subtle, well practiced. The idle play of the strings backing up Aldean with the grace of his people. He closes his eyes and listens.
The chords dance out with that minor tone, the sadness giving away to the major as he continues. Opening up those brilliant, blue eyes he considers his words. There is a slight sadness to his eyes as he plays, as if the music moves him. Though, it would be foolish for one of his kind not to be. He continues to play, waiting for Aldean to finish his song.
Benthus arrives at the area and turns his attention to a spot that has a lot of people gathered. He blinks, pondering on something, and then shrugs. Turning slightly, he makes towards the gathered location, curious as to what is going on...
Mikilos raises a hand in greeting to Aldean, making his way closer to listen. A polite nod given to the other present, familiar and no, but no spoken greeting just yet. Wouldn't want to interrupt.
Flicker would answer Basil in kind with the fact an lady always loves lovely compliments, but her legs are swinging slower now, even as she doesn't speak to listen to the song and music being played.
The next verses Aldean sings speak of names ... odd names, all, but each verse speaks of an act of defiance, and the price they paid. All end up dead by the hand of whoever this lord might be, and often summarily and without mercy. Brutally, in fact.
It's a strange tale, to be sure, and weirdly unsettling, but there's power behind it. It speaks then of the fate of the Builder himself, bound into his own monument and cast into the ether, never to know the skies or the Harpist's halls where he belongs. A lonely desert is the brass masterpiece's final home, harsh and unforgiving. Then, though, it shifts keys into a major key, the tune just faintly different. It tells then of the tearing down of the monument and the release of the soul in a complex bridge, then returns to the same melody in that major key for the final verse, a warning to those who would crush others beneath their heel. Interestingly, although the song gives many names, never once does it give the name of the brutal conqueror.
Basil keeps his melody simply, and as a result is able to keep up quite fluidly. He catches the key change and he tempo follows the words of Aldean. There is a strengthening of his notes, as the soft, dulcet tones give way to more pressing chords. As he goks up to give his most winning smile to the crowd. Flicker gets a wink because, well, like he said. There is always room for charm. Even with a gobber. Mikilos gets a knowing smile, from one of his kind to another. When Benthus approaches, he lowers his head politely as he plays. Always interacting, always keeping the crowd with him.
When Aldean finishes, he gives his last strum and lowers his mandolin to clap, "That was beautiful! Oh! It is so nice to hear song again... In my travels, all I heard was myself, and you can only hear your own songs so many times before you wish for the voice of another..." He waivers slightly to the side, "You must sing for me again sometime."
Flicker perks up after the last note and word is sung and claps excitedly, "Now that is what I call a song. Death, beheading..." Her legs swing a little quicker. She spots Benthus now and waves a bit as well as Miklos when he walks up, "You'll both ahve to whistle for me when you get together again. I'll come running along if I hear it."
Mikilos hrmms softly, nodding to Aldean. "At the first verse, I thought maybe you spoke of myself. But I've heard something of this tale. Well crafted, if a bit melancholy."
Benthus smiles as he sees familiar faces in the crowd. He claps his hands appreciatively when the song ends and offers an acknowledging nod of his head to the two who sang the song. To Flicker, he offers a smile and a wave and then a concerned look that seem to say 'Are you alright now?'
The praise draws a pleased smile to Aldean's features, an open and warm expression. "Aye, an' glad I am ye like it." He includes Mikilos in that. "It be a memoriam o' sorts. I've other tales I've meant t'set t'song, but...." Some of the smile fades, again, and he nods to Basil. "Twas well played, aye. I'd not written but th'one instrument, but tis a good sound. But if it be sommat more cheerful ye be after..." He lights up again; clearly, the melancholy is not his default.
"Oh! But good sir, I couldn't ask you to sing suc a beautiful song without one in return." He grins, strumming lightly at his Mandolin, "Tell me, would you like to hear one I wrote on my way up here? It's nothing special, but has a certain sort of flair to it." He flits his eyes towards Mikilos before adding, "But that's the way of the world, isn't it?" He watches Flicker and Benthus curiously. Subtle signs, subtle movements, this man seems to pick up on them quite naturally. But he just continues to strum at his mandolin.
Not in any mortal danger at the moment and listening to what is going on, Flicker doesn't even recognize the concern. Why would anyone worry about her at the moment, especially this moment. LEgs swing and the centipede peaks its rounded head out of the collar and gives Benthus a look instead of it's master. No, she is rapt to hear more song and music.
Mikilos smiles, nodding about. "Another song would be lovely, thank you. But perhaps first we might know the name of our entertainer? I don't believe we all have met. Mikilos Mithralla, Magus and Builder Arcane."
Flicker just looked at you.
Benthus moves over to Mikilos and says a few words to him, "It is an interesting story what the song portrayed. I would have to guess that it is from one of his adventures." Indicating Aldean. As the mage makes everyone within ear shot know who he is, the half-sil feels compelled to offer his as well. "Benthus. Sunblade." He says curtly and then resumes his silence as the music is about to start anew.
"If ye be so minded, then be welcome." Aldean seems utterly unbothered, and indeed cheerful at the request, moving aside to allow Basil what passes for center stage. He doesn't respond to Benthus' comment -- likely hadn't heard it -- but as others are making names known, he adds his. "I be Aldean, singer o' songs an' chaser o' trouble." A wink accompanies that, and the panpipes are largely forgotten in one hand as he settles down to listen.
Flicker happily waves to all once more, legs swinging back and forth, "Already told them, so might as well say it again... Unless I get to be a bit to parroty. Flicker they call me. or so my dad named me, the greatest Goblin Chieftain, Cracker." She giggles a little and yes the hyper little Gobber gal is a bit of that bubbly when things aren't serious, but there is an eerie intelligence behind those eyes that plays a far different melody.
"My name is Basil, like the herb." He refrains from a last name for now, idly strumming his instrument, "It's a pleasure to meet you. This song is dedicated to someone... I'm not quite sure who. It might be the girl I met near the theatre earlier, but perhaps not." The melody is strums is in a minor key, strummed to a slow, melodic 6/4 time that could easily be confused for 3/4 if it wasn't for the hesitant lilts the lead into each note. The tempo meanders, a sort of chaotic grace that doesn't play by a hard time.
I remember the day that I met her, The woman who gave me no name, She spoke with the depth of the oceans, And walked with the grace of the plains.
She asked me my name and I gave it, I asked her her own she refused, She said it was spoken in fire, And written in flickering hues.
By the days cast away I would seek her, By the glory of night I would watch, By the stars burning grace I would call her, But what I should call I knew not.
She met me again she would ask me, Had I found out her secretive sign, But this time I knew what to answer. This time her secret was mine.
Your name is the sound of the ocean, Your name is the silence of grain, Your name is the hissing of fires, And spoken in poet's refrain.
It's bound to the slopes of the mountains, It's held in the whispers of glens, It's all of this world, and nothing... And so... I will call you my friend.
He strums one last melody before letting the song drop. There is a flicker of a smile, "I always love singing that one..." He utters.
Mikilos listens, and nods along with the music, frowning absently. "Interesting thing, names. So much idenity tied up in them."
Flicker nods to the song and claps once more enthusiastically when it is done, only to lean back and wonder if more music and song will be offered. She then turns to Miklos as he says that, "Can't just go around grunting and nodding our heads to one another... Seen that. Don't like it. Good to place a name with a face, never know when you want to call out and see how many times they will answer their name being called with what?" She squeaks her eyes and face up and wiggles her long brows mischievously.
Aldean listens as well, nodding, and applauding cheerfully in his own turn, although it's a bit more subdued in deference to the song's topic. Flicker's answer, though, draws an open laugh. "Tis true. What ye call a thing ...some folk hold it dear, aye." He shrugs a shoulder. "An' sometimes friend be th'most important name a man can have. Tis well-played, an' a good tune. Have ye another or would ye have me sing somethin'?" The query is relaxed, almost flippant.
Mikilos grins. "I was thinking more of elemental beings, who's name truely is what they are. Change the name, and you change their reality." Glancing to Aldean a moment, he ponders, and shakes his head. "No reason to leave everything in the hands, on in this case mouths, of professionals." *ahem*
The elf's tune is high and bright, sung with a clear voice, if not quite so polished as a proper bard's.
'Your one true love's a sailing ship, who anchors at our pier. We lift her sails, we scrub her decks, we shine her port holes clear.
The sailors stand upon the docks, the sailors stand in a line. As thirsty as a dwarf for gold, Or centaurs for cheap wine.
For all the sailors love her! They flock to where she's moored! Each man hopeing that he might go down, all hands on board!'
Flicker nods a little bit, "In truth I do see that and a very interesting tale you sing as well. Though names still on the table I can see the point as when I named Douse for what he does to my attitude at times. Indeed I could be far more flagrant and flowery with my words at times."
"Oh!!! So many talented people." Basil literally seems in heaven. Each time a song is sung, he is captivated, enamored. If it wasn't for the next, you would swear that he is utterly in love with whomever chooses to sing, man or woman. He is expressive beyond words, and doesn't leave anything hidden behind those features. The laughs come easy to Mikolos' song and he grins, "I need some more comedic pieces! So funny! We must meet up sometime. I am dying to know what you were doing in the theatre." He sighs softly, "Oh... I think I'm all out of songs for the night. So much excitement. If I sing another I might just fall into a deep sleep and never wake up...."
Mikilos glances at the moon, and acks at how far it's risen. "And I -really- must be going. Please excuse me." Frowning mildly, the magus clasps the amulet around his neck, and focuses. With a soft *pop* he's gone, teleported off to his next destination.