Post by Bre'Cheye on Jan 31, 2013 16:11:26 GMT -5
By Michaelys:
Returning the gaze for a moment, he responded, "I'm just as glad that you are mine as well." then he looked away and into the fire. Picking up the now highly varnished and scratch free lute, he played a courtly tune, the sort to be heard in the halls of Kings. Nodding his head at the fire to get BreCheye to look there, he intensified Bardic magic into the song...
*The flames ceased there wavering and took on an almost glassy appearance. Peering closer, a Kings court room appears. But this is unlike any stately palace with rough stone walls sheathed in plaster. This is a court in a building unroofed to the sky. The walls are gleaming marble, and the tiers are soft wooden benches with cushions strewn about.
The nobles, if thats what they are, either sit on the benches are lay about on the cushions conversing quietly amongst themselves. Dressed in finely woven clothes that are still sturdy yet functional. No silks are seen in this crowd. The highest seat in the 'room' is a marble chair, not quite a throne. It, too has soft cushions at its back and seat, as well as a finey woven cushion where something rests deeply upon it.
Suddenly, although no announcements are made, the people all cease their conversation and stand up. Someone enters the room from outside the walls. The person almost seems to glide across the floor, after a few minutes, they step up onto the high point, and are revealed to be a woman.
She turns to the crowd as she picks up the object from the cushion. It is a long slender oak staff, carved with many intricate letters and whorls. Everyone watches as she concentrates for a moment, then nodding to herself, she settles onto the chair. The Nobles all take seats either on the benches or the floor, as is their wont. As they settle, many are seen to be holding musical instruments, although some have swords or bows about their person.*
Before the woman can speak, the image fades away as Michaelys stops his song. Resting his hand on the strings he looks back at BreCheye, "That was one of the councils of my homeland, I would of liked for you to hear what was happening, but the distance is too far, and it wouldn't of been clear, anyway.
(next installment: page 5, reply #60)
Returning the gaze for a moment, he responded, "I'm just as glad that you are mine as well." then he looked away and into the fire. Picking up the now highly varnished and scratch free lute, he played a courtly tune, the sort to be heard in the halls of Kings. Nodding his head at the fire to get BreCheye to look there, he intensified Bardic magic into the song...
*The flames ceased there wavering and took on an almost glassy appearance. Peering closer, a Kings court room appears. But this is unlike any stately palace with rough stone walls sheathed in plaster. This is a court in a building unroofed to the sky. The walls are gleaming marble, and the tiers are soft wooden benches with cushions strewn about.
The nobles, if thats what they are, either sit on the benches are lay about on the cushions conversing quietly amongst themselves. Dressed in finely woven clothes that are still sturdy yet functional. No silks are seen in this crowd. The highest seat in the 'room' is a marble chair, not quite a throne. It, too has soft cushions at its back and seat, as well as a finey woven cushion where something rests deeply upon it.
Suddenly, although no announcements are made, the people all cease their conversation and stand up. Someone enters the room from outside the walls. The person almost seems to glide across the floor, after a few minutes, they step up onto the high point, and are revealed to be a woman.
She turns to the crowd as she picks up the object from the cushion. It is a long slender oak staff, carved with many intricate letters and whorls. Everyone watches as she concentrates for a moment, then nodding to herself, she settles onto the chair. The Nobles all take seats either on the benches or the floor, as is their wont. As they settle, many are seen to be holding musical instruments, although some have swords or bows about their person.*
Before the woman can speak, the image fades away as Michaelys stops his song. Resting his hand on the strings he looks back at BreCheye, "That was one of the councils of my homeland, I would of liked for you to hear what was happening, but the distance is too far, and it wouldn't of been clear, anyway.
(next installment: page 5, reply #60)