Re: The Wretched Rite - Round One - The Rose Ring
07-10-2011, 02:22 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by MrGuy.
The first thing that went through Poran’s head, after he realized his place upon some hill in the second completely unfamiliar planet of the day, was something along the lines of dear god, I’m being punished for my cowardice, please forgive me. The second thing, as he dashed towards the nearest tree, was some punishment! It’s so beautiful here! And the others look so interesting! He scrambled up the bark, flapping his wings in the hopes that it would make the ascent easier, the thought to simply fly straight up not crossing his mind. And all so big! Veritable titans, in comparison to what I’ve experienced. Why, I bet they could smash a Tropari with a single swing of their tremendous arms…
He eventually managed to find his way up to a sturdy branch, and slowly walked to the edge. You could see quite a lot from here; the town square, some sort of castle, a river in the distance… Poran was awed by the sheer largeness of everything before him. Amazing… simply amazing! This place must have been created for those titans, by others! Or perhaps by creatures even larger! He grinned and withdrew his inkwell, pen, and a piece of paper, setting them gently on the branch. What to write about… I suppose I could write something to do with the elements, and how they apply to each of us! That’s a classical theme, and for good reason! He immediately began hastily scribbling notes.
Earth = Olivvea, Plant-panther-thing (Noble!)
Air = Me, Vara
Water = Adelade (Pretty!), Uhlooviahn Olluuvion? (Majestic!)
Fire = Feeyarella (Also pretty, and I should see if she can offer me any of that fabric, seeing as my sash is beginning to get a bit frayed, and perhaps a hat would be nice to put this feather in), Tayleea
He looked at his handiwork apprehensively. Yes, it definitely looked like you would pronounce it, but… something told him it wasn’t quite right. Maybe they spelled things differently, used a different alphabet? They were from different places, after all. Oh, well; he’d simply have to do the best he could with what he had. Regardless, I should perhaps hold off on the odes until I’ve first composed something to the splendor of our surroundings; to hold off on that would be an insult to he who brought us here, and to the sheer majesty of this place! He gently folded up the sheet and placed it back in its pouch, and started on a fresh sheet of paper:
As the wind weaves through the groves and hills around
And ’bandoned empty town lay peaceful, undisturbed
My thoughts alight upon the sacred the grassy ground the cobblestone path below
And all that once tread upon it
Who once passed here? Merchants, pastors, soldiers?
Who has left their mark in every footfall?
He stared at his handiwork for a moment, sighing. This isn’t turning out very good, I don’t think… oh, but wait! He smiled widely as he adjusted the feather behind his ear. Maybe their cultures have different standards for poetry! Maybe they’ll think it’s excellent, or… at least decent. Ooh, this could be a very good learning experience! We could share backgrounds, and then whoever survives can bring back the knowledge of other cultures to their own! That way, we all live on in a small way, even if we die! He fidgeted and glanced around, not seeing anyone. Oh, but I’ll need to get someone’s attention so they can find out! Alright, then. Let’s see, what’s a nice, obvious tune…
Poran gently withdrew the harp from its pouch, and experimentally brought a few notes forth. Each string still rang out like the first day he had received it, a beautiful tone like a spring breeze, almost unnoticeable yet incredibly sublime. Once content that it was entirely in tune, he began bringing out a fanfare: to be specific, Rendelio Desmeth toro-Sam’s Twelfth Dart in Tone 6. Though it would have sounded far better on a trumpet, and certainly by someone with a bit more skill, it served the purposes of the Leskrin, in that it was very loud and was not likely to make anyone’s ears begin bleeding, so he kept on with it, humming along due to not knowing the lyrics, content in his perch.
The first thing that went through Poran’s head, after he realized his place upon some hill in the second completely unfamiliar planet of the day, was something along the lines of dear god, I’m being punished for my cowardice, please forgive me. The second thing, as he dashed towards the nearest tree, was some punishment! It’s so beautiful here! And the others look so interesting! He scrambled up the bark, flapping his wings in the hopes that it would make the ascent easier, the thought to simply fly straight up not crossing his mind. And all so big! Veritable titans, in comparison to what I’ve experienced. Why, I bet they could smash a Tropari with a single swing of their tremendous arms…
He eventually managed to find his way up to a sturdy branch, and slowly walked to the edge. You could see quite a lot from here; the town square, some sort of castle, a river in the distance… Poran was awed by the sheer largeness of everything before him. Amazing… simply amazing! This place must have been created for those titans, by others! Or perhaps by creatures even larger! He grinned and withdrew his inkwell, pen, and a piece of paper, setting them gently on the branch. What to write about… I suppose I could write something to do with the elements, and how they apply to each of us! That’s a classical theme, and for good reason! He immediately began hastily scribbling notes.
Earth = Olivvea, Plant-panther-thing (Noble!)
Air = Me, Vara
Water = Adelade (Pretty!), Uhlooviahn Olluuvion? (Majestic!)
Fire = Feeyarella (Also pretty, and I should see if she can offer me any of that fabric, seeing as my sash is beginning to get a bit frayed, and perhaps a hat would be nice to put this feather in), Tayleea
He looked at his handiwork apprehensively. Yes, it definitely looked like you would pronounce it, but… something told him it wasn’t quite right. Maybe they spelled things differently, used a different alphabet? They were from different places, after all. Oh, well; he’d simply have to do the best he could with what he had. Regardless, I should perhaps hold off on the odes until I’ve first composed something to the splendor of our surroundings; to hold off on that would be an insult to he who brought us here, and to the sheer majesty of this place! He gently folded up the sheet and placed it back in its pouch, and started on a fresh sheet of paper:
As the wind weaves through the groves and hills around
And ’bandoned empty town lay peaceful, undisturbed
My thoughts alight upon the sacred the grassy ground the cobblestone path below
And all that once tread upon it
Who once passed here? Merchants, pastors, soldiers?
Who has left their mark in every footfall?
He stared at his handiwork for a moment, sighing. This isn’t turning out very good, I don’t think… oh, but wait! He smiled widely as he adjusted the feather behind his ear. Maybe their cultures have different standards for poetry! Maybe they’ll think it’s excellent, or… at least decent. Ooh, this could be a very good learning experience! We could share backgrounds, and then whoever survives can bring back the knowledge of other cultures to their own! That way, we all live on in a small way, even if we die! He fidgeted and glanced around, not seeing anyone. Oh, but I’ll need to get someone’s attention so they can find out! Alright, then. Let’s see, what’s a nice, obvious tune…
Poran gently withdrew the harp from its pouch, and experimentally brought a few notes forth. Each string still rang out like the first day he had received it, a beautiful tone like a spring breeze, almost unnoticeable yet incredibly sublime. Once content that it was entirely in tune, he began bringing out a fanfare: to be specific, Rendelio Desmeth toro-Sam’s Twelfth Dart in Tone 6. Though it would have sounded far better on a trumpet, and certainly by someone with a bit more skill, it served the purposes of the Leskrin, in that it was very loud and was not likely to make anyone’s ears begin bleeding, so he kept on with it, humming along due to not knowing the lyrics, content in his perch.