The Bard on the Run
I guess it was hard on all of us of the first generation after the Awakening. I suppose I was luckier than everyone else, because people could never really tell about me... my ears weren't as pointed, and my eyes weren't quite as almond-shaped as the others, but my grandfather knew immediately. He told me later that he took one look at me and knew who and what I was. When Mom died a few weeks later from the complications, though, Dad didn't want anything to do with me, so he gave me over to Grandpa. With Grandma gone a few years before in the Indian Wars, it was just him and me.
Grandpa was a weird one. He taught at a public high school in our small town, teaching history and English and, once he got the program approved, magic. He taught me, in those early years, to love the Earth, and to listen to the world around me. He also taught me to sing, and I still remember his deep voice carrying me off to sleep.
The year I was to turn seven, Grandpa brought a stranger home. I had never seen anyone like her in our small town. She was tall and slender, and her eyes were very deep, with beautiful, fiery red hair and a smile that exuded warmth towards me. Grandpa sat me down, and his words still run through my head, complete with that funny pronunciation that he had.
"Dabhid, you know I've always told you you're a special child, don't ya, lad? You've got a soul in ye that's older than I care to think about, and it needs to be taught. This woman, here, she can teach ye what ye need ta know, better than I kin hope ta. But if ye go with her, ye'll have ta leave me for some years... nine ta ten years. I kin see ye ev'ry now an again, but twon't be often, cause ye'll have ta go far away. Do ye want ta go, lad? If ye go, I'll always love ye, same as if ye stayed, ye know that... and if ye stay, I kin teach ye what I know, and we dinnae have ta talk about this again."
I looked at Grandpa for a long time, trying to read what he wanted, trying to see if he still wanted me.... but he'd put up the wall again, and I couldn't tell. I sat down and thought, and Grandpa made dinner, while the lady just sat and chatted with Grandpa. My home was here, part of me said... Grandpa needed me. But some part of me, some quiet part that rarely spoke up, kept repeating that we were needed elsewhere, that we had to go. The table was almost silent as we ate, and I know I only picked at my food. Dessert came, and I ate it quietly while the parts of me argued and argued... finally, in a quiet voice, I said "I think I'd like to go, if that's alright with you, Grandpa." His eyes shone with tears as he nodded, unable to speak.
We had a week to say good-bye. Grandpa took off work, and we just did all the grandfather-grandson things... we fished, we went to movies, we ate out... in other words, he spoiled me rotten that last week. The woman was with us from time to time, talking about my new family and how much fun I would have with them and how much I would love Tir na nOg and how I would have a brother and sister and would have fun lessons to learn and how I could call my Grandpa whenever I wanted. I grew to like her, and I didn't mind her being with us.
The last day, Grandpa and I went to the airport together, the woman (whose name I learned to be Eimher) going separately "to give us men some time alone". As we rode in Grandpa's old truck, we sang songs that he had taught me, and a few we'd made up for the fun of it... he even let me drive, though he was really careful about that. At the gate, we said goodbye, and we both cried, but we both remained brave, and I kept going. I think I cried until we reached Boston, where we switched planes for our flight to the Tir.
My ten years in the Tir were great, though I missed my Grandpa dearly. After five years of calls and e-mails and even one astral visitation, Grandpa was able to come every summer, bringing some of his students over to see the Tir and the rest of Europe. I studied almost all the time... even my play felt like study after a while, I was learning so much. History, Music, three new languages, magic... it seemed every time I turned around, there was something new to be learned, something new to try. I started recording music, making a bit of money on the side, but nothing much... the art was the important part.
My last year, I was working on gods know how many projects, including a translation of the Mabinogion and Tain bo Cu Cuailnge into Sperethiel and _then_ writing an exposition on the damn things and their similarities, I got word that Grandpa had died, just hours after he last called me. The heart attack was swift and unexpected. I was allowed to go home, and I stood by his graveside in the rain, singing the songs he taught me, speaking to everyone who had come of my love for this old man... even my father was there, though he never looked me in the eye.
I returned to Tir na nOg, my own recording income bolstered by the remains of my father's estate. I left the fosterage, eschewing college and the completion of high school to throw myself into my Arts... the magic and the music. The two were intertwined for me... as I sang, my magic grew stronger, and the spells I could weave and spirits I could call only strengthen my devotion to the Path I walked... the Path of the Bard. I was 21 when I entered the Order of Brigid, initiating with them, and opening the new vistas of magic that brought and changing my name to Triath Mac Illand (the name of my foster father). I continued to work, making a comfortable income off my music career, enough to live in a nice neighborhood and to travel every year.
The travelling got to me... While I loved the Tir, each time I went to another country, I saw how stagnant we were getting... no matter how much our surface changed, it kept running in circles, an endless knot, never really changing, never allowing ourselves to change. Each time, when I got home, I felt the urge to experiment with my music, to break out of the staid mold... The first time I preformed one of these, I was fined 1000£, for violating the cultural laws. At the next meeting of the Order, I spoke up, telling them how suffocated I felt by the cultural laws, arguing that they kept us pure at the expense of our creativity. "Where is the Fire of Brigid," I argued, "in rechewing the same coals? Where is the Excellence of Lugh in never changing, never growing? Where is the Wisdom of Oghma in living only in the past?" I know I got through to a few of them... I could see it in their eyes, how the fires of passion and creativity leaped when I talked. But they were young, too young, and the heads of the Order shouted me down.
The next couple of years were uncomfortable. My recording contracts slowly dried up, and no new ones were coming in... I could afford to travel less and less, soon limited to only a trip to the seashore every summer. I knew why, of course... the Order wanted to keep a tight reign on dissidents. I kept thinking I should get out while I could, and when my last contract expired, I did. I had some money salted away, and used it to buy a suborbital ticket to (fill in the name of the city you want to use). I took my 10,000£ out of the bank, closed my accounts, and put my house up for sale. I left the country the next day.
When I got to (City), I had my from the house wired to me by Eimher. Along with it, she sent a note that said good-bye. I knew she meant for good... she'd sponsored me in the Order of Brigid, and she was going to take some hell for me leaving, but I also knew her rep was solid enough that she'd survive. That was three weeks ago.
Now, I'm starting over. I guess I'm no longer a member of the Order, which makes me a solitary magician for the first time. I've done a couple performances in a small bar near here, called simply "The Pub". The owner knows me, and he introduced me to some friends of his... friends who wanted me to do a few favors, in exchange for a bit of money. Up until yesterday, I was doing negotiations and sales by day and shows by night.
Today, I got an odd page from my fixer friend, asking if I'd be interested in a bit of work "outside my usual line". My cash may last me a month, two if I'm lucky, but I said yes, because who knows what next week will bring?
Triath Mac Illand
B 3
Q 4
S 3
C 8
I 6
W 6
E 6
M 8 (Grade 2 Initiate)
R 5 (+1D6)
Natural Abilities
Low Light Vision
Merits/Flaws
Allergy: Iron: Severe
Simsense Vertigo
Sensitive System
Human Looking
Extra Contact
Good Karma: 0
Karma Pool: 4
Total Karma (ever earned): 64
Astral Pool: 2
Combat Pool: 8
Active Skills
Sing 5
Athletics (Dance) 2 (4)
Instruction 3
Negotiation 4
Etiquette 5
Storytelling 4
Pistols 2
Unarmed Combat (Carromeleg) 2(3)
Bike 2
Knowledge Skills
Art History (Music)* 2(4)
Artistic Composition (Music)* 2(4)
Literature (Celtic)* 2(4)
History (Irish)* 2(4)
Law 2
English* 6
-Read/Write 5
Sperethiel* 5
-Read\Write 4
Irish Gaelic* 4
-Read\Write 4
Welsh* 4
-Read\Write 4
Elven Society (Tir Na nOg) 1(3)
Equipment
Ares Viper w/ 2 clips, concealable holster (silencer integral)
Securetech Lined Coat
Ordinary and Fine Clothing
Handset Cell Phone
Pager
2 months Low Lifestyle (a small walk-up apartment w/ fireplace about 3 blocks from The Pub)
Medkit
¥1123
Contacts:
Bartender (Level 1 Contact, goes by the name Paddy, despite a Japanese human... Runs The Pub, a small bar well outside the CZ of Chicago)
Fixer (Level 1 Contact, native Chicagoan Dwarf, goes by the name Mr. Kotter. Specializes, so far as I know, in providing negotiators and scouts for more upper-crust places... hangs out at The Pub)
Talismonger (Level 1 Contact, white human and American, goes by the name of Mr. Williams. Phys Ad "Ghost Hunter", settled down after confined to a wheelchair when beaten nearly to death by a large Earth Elemental)
Adept Abilities
+3 dice to Etiquette
+3 dice to Sing
+3 dice to Storytelling
+3 dice to Negotiation
+2 dice to Athletics
Amplified Hearing
Sound Damper
Astral Perception
Nerve Strike (after 1st initiation)
Spell Shroud, level 4 (after 2nd initiation)
Metamagic
Masking
Signature Alteration
Return to the main page.
Comments?