"A Little Singing Practice" Log Date: 7/17/02 Log Cast: Wayfound, Tefin, Arnos, Iletya (emitted by Wayfound), Kephissa (emitted by Wayfound) Log Intro: During the seasons she has so far spent in the company of the Tall Ones from the distant land of Vrae, one thing over and over again has arisen for Wayfound's observation: as wolves and Wolfriders howl, the humans led by the ((Captain)) Vardeus sing. They sing to keep rhythm as they work, to share joy and sorrow, to tell stories, and simply for the pleasure of singing. It is a far more outgoing activity than the reclusive young she-elf is usually accustomed to taking up--and yet, it fascinates her. It is not the howling of a wolf-pack in full throat, but it stirs her wolf-blood nonetheless, and moreover, she draws no small amount of furtive pride and pleasure in observing that her friend Arnos is considered the best out of all of the Vraeyans when it comes to making music. Inspired by his example, Wayfound slips off from the camp one night to try to practice this whole singing concept a little herself--but while the she-elf is formidable of intellect, she hasn't yet managed to learn both of her friends, Arnos as well as Tefin of the Go-Backs, are adept at tracking her down when they're curious about her whereabouts.... ---------- TwoRivers Camp(#845RJ) This clearing has a small campfire circle and is within hearing of the junction of the Forbidden River to the south and Sweetwater River to the west. Faint trails lead north and east. It just might be possible to cross the rivers here, before they merge into the raging Blue River. The bright tangles of the Waterfall begin to come out as the dimming red light of sunset fills the hot summer skies. Contents: Tefin Vraeyan Camp(#1655AJae) Glowing embers(#7914V$) Obvious exits: Shelter Sweetwater Trail Blue River Forbidden River Forbidden River Trail The rafts have been lashed safely up onto the shore, the half-assembled wagons still affixed to them, and a camp set up about thirty feet from the water; with all the work involved with this, even when night falls the Vraeyans still make a considerable amount of noise. Enough that Wayfound, slipping off by herself a short distance from the camp, can be overlooked extremely easily... and enough that, when a gruff, uncertain soprano lifts up to address the night and the flowing river in murmured song, she goes easily unheard by human ears. "((...wave over wave, sea over bow, I'm the happiest man that the sea will allow...))" The Vraeyan words, already more lilting of pronunciation than the tongue of the Olbar tribe, take on a music no human voice can give them as Wayfound sings them. Even so... she's not certain about it, and her brow crinkles up in her own intense concentration. Only Wayfound, daughter of the Wolfbringer, Tefin's Riddle, could be trying to analyze a song even as she is _singing_ it... but that is exactly what Wayfound is doing. Overlooked by those not seeking her, true, but what of one that is seeking her? Ever since introducing the game to the wise Wolfrider (and with a record of 56-52 versus, if you must know), Tefin has been spending a great deal of time with her and has started to find that...well...he doesn't like it when she is not around. He misses her when she is on watch and thinks of her, even when she is near. Very odd feelings for anyone...especially a Go-back. "(( Bend and blow, splash and spin, there in the sea is where my life begins))" He smiles warmly and steps into the corona of your small campfire. She's singing! Tefin Tefin is a go-back. That's the first thing that you can tell about him, and that's without him even saying a word. He smiles at you like a friend, his dirty brown eyes glinting merrily in the flickering from the fire pit. His hair, black as the deepest cave in the mountain and streaked with highlights of blonde, swirls wild around his head, pulled roughly into a small tie that looks like it could break at any moment. He stands about 3'5 feet tall...average for a Go-Back, but lightly muscled unlike the rest of his tribe, even though it's evident that he excercises often. His clothing is simple...some would say crude, but obviously warm since he does live in the frozen mountains. A dark brown shirt covers his upper body, a fur vest over that. Dark blue pants, so dark they're almost black, cover his legs , the cuffs tucked into thick leather boots, well broken in. Accessories are few and far between, but very appropriate. A small leather pouch hangs from his belt, a simple wooden flute can be seen tucked into the small of his back...music soothes the savage fawn...and even a small go-back doll hangs on his belt; a gift from one of his charges. From within the Vraeyan campsite, Arnos has left. Arnos has arrived. Arnos This one is another of the strangers recently arrived on the shores of this land in rather less than optimal circumstances. And he seems to be somewhat the worse for wear after the fact. A rather nasty-looking scar mars the line at one temple where hair bleached blond by the unrelenting seaborn sun and his constant exposure to it meets skin tanned deep gold by the same forces. The former is held away from his face at top and sides, and allowed to hang free across broad shoulders which lead into a stocky, but leanly muscular frame, honed by a decade or more onboard ship. It is the fault of the salty sea spray more than age that eyes the green of the deep jungle are bordered by faint crow's feet, and so too a generous mouth flanked by laugh lines. The cleft in his chin and the faint shadow cast by high cheekbones are all the work of nature in her more tender moments, however. As with the rest of the strangers from the shattered ship, he wears in one ear a bauble of gold in the form of a strange runic symbol, his only real ornamentation besides the small tattoo occasionally visible on his chest when conditions are right and clothes are suitably arranged for the event. It too is of a strange alphabet. And speaking of clothes, he has some on now, tattered though they are after his ordeal. A long tunic of dove gray was probably perfectly servicable at one point, and the dingy, squarish knotwork edging it was probably once much closer to white than it currently can claim. He has managed, somehow to retain the short sword and pouch attached to the utilitarian leather belt around his waist, and also the sandals which send tendrils of leather to wrap up and around his ankles, tying at the backs of his calves. Lastly, and perhaps more impressively, he was able to salvage a strange item made of wood and catgut strings which he wears slung across his back most of the time. She is, in fact, singing -- though Wayfound gulps down the words as soon as Tefin's voice rises up in answer to her own, and a deep uncharacteristic flush reddens her countenance. If she were a human, one might say that years are stripped from her face by that deep blush... but she is a Wolfrider, and for all that she is a match in age for many of the older humans in the camp, by elfin standards she is barely more than a cub, and just over thirty years make barely a dent upon the face of the she-elf. But these years and more -- years she does not actually have, though sometimes it is hard to tell with Wayfound -- drain out of her eyes, when she blushes. And when, sounding oddly like a cub caught trying to stick her hand down a badger hole, she blurts out, "Er, ah... Tefin!" "Yes, Wayfound?" he asks, his smile glimmering in the moonlight. "You have finally decided to sing...just a little." "And a beautiful voice she has, at that." Arnos' voice rumbles up from the shadows of the camp. A smile is seen to curl his lips as he comes into view, eyes sparkling with good humor. "Why did you stop, Wayfound?" Put a problem before her to solve, and Wayfound will face it unflinching. Give her a monster to kill, she is a warrior; prey to track and skin, and she is as fine a huntress as any Wolfrider could wish. But to be overheard singing not only by Tefin but by Arnos as well... and Wayfound is abruptly even more of a cub, ambergreen eyes dropping their gaze swiftly to her abruptly restless hands, which fidget in her lap while she blushes out to the points of her ears. "I-I-I... did not know I was being heard," she says then, unthinkingly. "Well," Arnos replies, beaming, "Now you know. You may begin again." After a moment, his expression turns entreating, chin ducking as he looks up through his lashes, his voice small as she adds, "Please?" The smile on Tefin's face is hard-pressed to be called anything but radiant as he perches on a nearby stone, very near to Wayfound. "You do have a lovely voice, Wayfound. I am sorry that I...we...interrupted you." Tefin locksends ** A soft touch in your mind is there...Tefin's send is weak as usual, but he does have a feeling of pride in there. Pride that you decided to sing, of all things, and a soothing feeling that you should not be embarrased. ** It would have to be Arnos and Tefin, would it not? The two in the camp who have grown closest to her, and who paradoxically seem best able to crack open Wayfound's otherwise impenetrable shell of reserve? She swings strangely defenseless eyes from the human to the Go-Back and back again, before trying to sit up a bit more on the fragment of tree-trunk that had been serving her as a seat at the river's edge; even now, she seems to be wrestling with an instinct to pull that shell back around her. She looks at Arnos oddly for a moment or two, perhaps due to how small his voice comes out of him; Tefin, too, gets a strange look. And her protests die in her throat, with the combined weight of the entreaty in both their faces. "Er... um... a-all right, if you both wish it..." Nervously, she turns her face back out to the river, sucks in a breath, and tries again. This time it's a different song, and the Vraeyan words come out of her with a mimicry of Vardeus' accent, broader and more rolling than that of Arnos the Wordgiver. "((I'm a son of a sea cook, I'm a cook and a trader, I c'n dance, I c'n sing... I c'n reef the main boom! I c'n handle a jigger, I cuts a fine figger, whenever I gets in a boat's standing room!))" Of course it would, silly elf! Tefin taps his boot rhythmically against the stone he is perched on and decides that, pehaps, a bit of accompaniment is in order. His handy flute, always in place on his belt, is quickly brought to his lips and the tune is taken up with the shrill song of an elfin pipe. With his smile growing even wider and more gay, Arnos joins in on the last line of the verse heading into the chorus. <> His voice is rich and deep, but with a hint of gravel to it. Rugged and masculine. A joyous shock of discovery whips through Wayfound, then: the uncanny pleasure she has experienced at the melding of singing voices in harmony, a sensation akin to the stirring of her wolf-blood when she hears a wolf pack in full-throated howl, can be reproduced if _hers_ is one of the voices. And when the human's voice rolls in underneath hers and Tefin's flute takes wing to join it, the sweetness of the chord that results is almost enough to bring tears to her eyes. "((Farewell and awa', ye young maids o' Notus, o' Kalros an' Hress, Dantarr an' Vollee! I'm bound f'r th' place where th' Seamother calls me, I can't woo ye all or it's buggered I'll be!))" Through a small giggle, Arnos joins in once more for the chorus, coming closer into the small gathering as his voice rises a bit higher, more sure. It is likely that many women have swooned at the sound in his many days. Tefin's eyes are closed, but he can almost feel the joy flowing from Wayfound as he moves with the music, fingers almost a blur as he plays his flute. It's interesting, but he's never really played for either of you before...perhaps there was never an appropriate occasion? Certainly, if the reactions of some of the women in the camp are any indication, Arnos' voice is indeed considered a prize among them -- though Wayfound has had to acknowledge that she has a limited set of human women by which to draw such a conclusion. _Her_ gaze shoots up to the human, perhaps given bravery by dint of mutual creation of music, and there is what can only be admiration in those lambent eyes of hers. That same admiration is swung to Tefin as well, for the sight of the flute in his hands seems to startle her... but not enough to keep her from the last and final chorus. She even straightens up a little more... though she squeezes her eyes shyly closed, then, as she sings more or less back at her companions for the end of the song. Arnos offers a wink and a smile to those women coming to see what the fuss is about. Another reason why he is likely popular among them. His pleasant acknowledgement extends to Tefin and his flute, with an approving nod. As the song finishes up, his energy only seems to increase. Tefin finishes the song with a flourish...well, as much of a flourish as one can do with a wooden flute, that is. He lowers the flute, offering a shy smile to Wayfound, and a return nod to Arnos. "A wonderful song.." Iletya and Kephissa don't actually wander up into conversation range, but Kephissa can be seen to grin wryly, while Iletya can be seen -- at least, by elfin eyes better able to see at this dark hour of the evening, perhaps -- to go quite pink at the sound of the Wordgiver's singing. The two women wave to their crewmate and the elves, before going on about their business of gathering fresh water, and they poke one another teasingly as they go. Wayfound is left to peek at the human and elf with her, and after nibbling sheepishly at her lip, she speaks up, "I, um, begin to see something of why Vardeus seems particularly fond of this song, for it does seem an excellent example of songs of its kind... though I am gratified to see you this evening, Arnos, as I am still perplexed as to the meaning of the word ((buggered))...?" "Yes, that is an interesting question. Tell us, Arnos, what does ((buggered)) mean?" Tefin turns his attention to the wordgiver. With a rather comical effect, Arnos cuts off the last note abruptly, his chin ceasing its slight upward tilt as he peers out of one eye at the pair of questioning elves, mouth snapping closed, then falling open again. "Hmm, well... hmmm, well... see... well... hmmm..." After a moment, "It's a bit difficult to explain, you see. In this case, it doesn't really have a meaning. It's sort of... an invective more than anything." Wayfound blinks, quite taken aback by the expression this produces upon her human friend's face, but oddly enough she seems to take this for what it's worth and not pursue it further. "I see," she murmurs, before canting her head a bit again, seemingly fascinated by the whorls in the bark of the trunk fragment on which she sits. She pokes at a knothole now, while she announces to both of her companions, "And I, ah... I am most gratified to learn that I, ah, appear to have a sense of how the melody seems to go. I was uncertain that I would be able to reproduce it." "You did wonderfully, my friend," Arnos assures, settling back on the heels of his feet, and clasping his hands behind his back, an approving smile plastered on his face. At least she didn't ask any further questions about it. "It was a very pleasant experience, I must say. You should come sing with us more often around the fire." Tefin doesn't exactly know how Wayfound will react to that bit...after all, this was a happy accident, this discovery, and public performance may be a bit ahead of the game, so to speak. How Wayfound will react, apparently, is a deepening of her blush. "Between your voice and that of the Captain," she mumbles to Arnos, "I-I-I expect I would be as a sparrow between a pair of trumpeting swans... but I, ah, I will consider it, I promise." She peeks up again, and musters up a tiny smile, each corner of her mouth curling up. Smiles seem to be coming to her more often these days; in fact, they seem to have done so ever since Tefin arrived in the camp, despite the loss of her wolf-friend. [This is another one that never got finished--and Arnos never did get around to explaining, at least on camera, what 'buggered' means to Tefin and Wayfound. ;) End log!]