Erelia Feeblefeet the Grand Mistress of Artistry

Role

Chapter 8

Side to side, side to side, up and down, up and down, rittle, rattle. The
sounds that awoke Erelia every morning pervaded the air as always, being
followed by a crisp scent of smoked meat. Her father's wagon, though old, had
always been faithful. Her mother and father had been traveling for ages now,
it seemed. Always the same rittle rattle as an awakening. Always the same
cheap meat father used as the first scent in morning. No dew, no flowers, no
perfumes; That meat always seemed to overcome such beauties. Even if they
could have afforded it, her father wouldn't have liked the perfume. It was of
a slightly wealthier taste, and that disgusted him. Traveling, trading goods,
and traveling again. It seemed that she'd grow wrinkles before this ever
ended. Her mother, though, hoped for more, that one day they could sell the
wagon and settle down in the plains after they made enough coin to live
comfortably. Sadly, no lucky break into wealth seemed in sight, as father
always sold to the same people for the same average prices. Though the
lifestyle was boring, Erelia was able to see many a thing. She experienced
deserts, cities, forests, castles, and even camp-sites. "No matter how boring
it is, I should be appreciative towards father", she always thought. Making
points to act kindly and cheerfully whenever in different parts of the world,
always trying to make friends. Lately, as she grew into more of a woman than
a child, she had taken up flute playing. The soft sounds of airy elegance
would weave through the percussion of the wagon, notes fusing with the
rattles and clunks of each step, forming an entire symphony in her head. What
fun this would be as a career, she imagined.

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Role

Chapter 7

Entertainment. Smiling, enjoying, laughing, grinning. Each emotion brought
out not by immediate reality, but by a farce itself. When acting, Erelia was
able to put on any face she wanted, create any situation she wanted and place
the emotion she so desired into her audience. She had started acting small
bits and plays out when her parents made their annual stop at the merchant
camp-site. Families, elders, children, races of all kinds made their
temporary homes here, making a versatile crowd with many appreciations and
pleasures. She noticed it first when she played with younger children. If you
spoke to them in straight strict tones, as their parents did, with your eyes
peering blankly at them and no emotion present in any facial expression, they
responded in kind. These children adapted to the current thing being express
AT them. Smiling and laughing, Erelia had taken pleasure in telling them
fictional stories of hilarity that occurred with her family while traveling.
These stories included soiled pants, rainy skies, lost clothing, tripping,
scuffling, and the children's favorite: flatulence. When happy, she noted,
the children reacted quickly and wittily, attempting themselves to bring
humor to the group's conversation. When scolded, they pouted and sulked,
nothing coming of it except sloth-like motion and sadness-And what a waste!
Why not, she wondered, joke at a child if they made a mistake, to stimulate
their ever-growing mind into a wonder of witty thoughts. These small stories
slowly grew as she told them, eventually becoming tales of large proportion,
taking hours to tell. As the stories grew, so did the crowd. As the crowd
grew, so did the roar of laughter. She stood before the crowd, looking at all
of these people gazing towards her grinning widly, "Why can kings not rule
with laughter, if it is so possessive and contagious?" she questioned in her
head. Comedy was not just enjoyment, she began to think, it was powerful. It
had the ability to change emotion, change action, change outlook, and change
people.

Role

Chapter 6

A few days ago, while traveling down the eastern in a most bouncy'ish way, I
came cross with a big man! A big orange man! Manly, maybe, but man he was
not. A Fire Giant-I didn't bother to ask his name. His head was scarred,
looked to me like he had been headbutting too many walls, but maybe that's a
Fire Giant game, who knows! So, anyways, this giant is heading my way,
seemed to meet up with me along the large crossroads, and I decided to
saunter closer to him, to get a better look. His clothing was royal, and he
was doused in Elven cologne, and he had the cutest dress on..If only. He was
ragged, clothing stripped bare on his arms and legs, and he seemed to be some
kind of brawler, or slave. His smell, though pungent, was stinky! I swear
that if he had bashed me, I would have been less stunned than when that
aromatic blaze of testosterone filled Giant gas blew me in the nostrils.
Being near him, I watched his stride. Very large steps: Thump, ker thump,
thump, ker thump. His left foot dragged the ground slightly as he raised it
in his next step. I'm guessing it was either hurt, or it ate more than his
other leg so maybe it gained some weight. I swear, though, a kick from that
thing would have sent me higher than an Air focused Shapeshifter covered in
pipe-smoke during Orc hunting season. I think he noticed me quickly, because
there was a short dart backwards in his eyes-I was in the corner of his
vision. After a bit of walkingFor me it was more like running, mind you. A
good six or seven steps to his one. One small step for a giant, one giant
sprint for wood-elf-kind.


Anyways, after a bit of walking, I decided that we should talk. I look to
him, catching up to his side (looking up at him was the equivalent of
standing below the Spire on High Road, but much more ugly. Less stones, more
bumps and stinkies.) I spoke. "You know, if you keep ignoring me, we'll start
to sleep in separate beds. I think we're getting emotionally detatched". The
giant let out a roaring "HAAARRR!" I thought, tremendous, the Giant is
retarded. "HAAAAAARRR!" after my precious statement? Come on, if the Giant
wasn't retarded, he certainly had no appreciation for sarcasm, so what good
was he?So, I stared at him like he was retarded.

He stared back, but I wasn't certain what was going on with him. His
eyebrows seemed kind, but he bore no emotion on his face. I harkened back to
what I did with the children, and thought, he could not be manipulating me,
could he? And before I knew it, the Giant launched into song:

"Come sail away with me to lands far away
maybe take a rest out there, or a roll in the hay.
You will be my sea princess, and I your king
Nature soars, devils roar, and angels sing
Of the starry nights we share
Lacking all elfie underwear!"

He had the most incredible voice, and the song captivated me. I said, "Dude,
nice! But why are you serenading me?" The giant responded wistfully that he
had spent a life on the sea, had had a Giant wife, and had planned to have a
happy long life with her. But fate would not have it, and a storm killed his
wife, and destroyed his boat. Now he was just trying to "carry on". It
seemed he was stuck on this song, and quite despondent.

I told him I felt his pain, but that he needed to get a new repertoire of
songs. I mean, c

Role

Chapter 5

Fat rain droplets fall from the sky, each one hitting their targets
perfectly, soaking everything in sight. Erelia stands alone above a small
stone marker in the Weald west of Galadon. The stone appears worn, though it
stands out as new compared to the ancient forest around it. Small words have
been grazed into the stone, reading "Mr. Giant".

Erelia and the giant she had met on the eastern road had long lived
adventures with each other. From the moment she heard his heralding voice
chant that simple song, she was mesmerized by his personality. From him, she
learned the small nuances of childish, giant-like humor. Observing small
things, sometimes more devious than others, and laughing at them in
appreciation-With no complexity required. He took her to the Theran Orphanage
in Balator, and kicked dirt in one of the orphan's eyes, and then began
yelling about how he was here to adopt them, and they'd have to find him
quickly or he'd leave! Of course the giant left before they wiped the dirt
from their teary eyes. Following the loud chuckling of the two miscreants,
Erelia would find the fact that the giant found things so simple funny, even
MORE hilarious! Humor, she noticed, could be found in anything.

Erelia learned from the Giant aspects of politics as well. The giant
had been working for the Empire, before becoming an Anathema long ago. She
heard his tales of the Fortress, Spire, Village, Refuge, Nexus, and the
Chasm. Erelia had always known about traveling, she'd done it all her life,
she also knew the many different aspects of cultures-but this whole Cabal
thing was new to her. Determined, she made note in her mind to find out what
each group found humorous. A few months into their traveling, the duo reached
the Weald. They both sat near the edge of Galadon, leaving the heavy forests
to their west dark, favoring the lesser foliage. Silently, the two had lain
back on the plant strewn ground, looking up at the night sky. Neither spoke,
neither moved, both enjoying the shared solitude while staring at the divine
stars. The silence was mutual, and Erelia thought it was hilarious-What a
social contract it was, that held them right now. Normally social contracts
involved interacting, but this one signed them both into silence, and that
was just funny. The silence was short-lived, however, as a blade cut through
both the unspoken, and the giant at the same time. Above the now-dead giant,
stood an Imperial Centurion in his finest. Without a word, maybe to respect
the silence that he so quickly cut, he left. Erelia was stunned, and just lay
there beside the dead giant for many hours. Eventually, she stood up, looked
at the messy corpse, and started digging.

After making the make-shift grave, inscribing the tomb-pebble, she
pushed the over-sized corpse into it. Sitting down, she began to laugh. It
started as a small giggle, between short breaths, and slowly grew. Her giggle
became a chuckle, which soon began to roar and echo amongst the trees. Not a
tear was shed, not a hair was split-She laughed, stood up, began whistling a
little tune, and skipped off on her way back to Galadon.
What a nice rainy day to skip.

Role

Chapter 4

Being terribly bored most of the time, Erelia enjoyed making fun.
Fun, as she saw it, mainly involved her interceding in other's events to make
things better for everybody. Better, as she saw it, was anything she liked.
What she liked, as she saw it, was something different. Different, though, to
the point of where other people wouldn't approve. She could have fun with
anyone, from Magistrate to frog(Which she new an enchanting story about-it
involved a princess kissing a toad, which turned into a Magistrate, and then
the princess kissing it more and more to try to turn it back to a frog, since
Magistrates are even slimier).

She recently found a great deal of fun at an Inn. This Inn, though,
was different than others. It was bigger, eternaller, and starer. Though she
seemed to enjoy the place greatly, some of those Heralds seemed to dislike
her(Making for greater fun.). Especially a chubby little Gnome named Tubby.
He was, as Erelia saw it, the most tubtacular horrible Gnome she ever met. He
read too many books, was too serious, didn't get jokes, and used words longer
a syllable. "But short!", Erelia thought, " What retort through yonder
Gnome breaks?" Knowing Tubnic disliked her about as much as he disliked
Ragers, she made sure to stay around him as much as she could. Knowing Tubby,
she learned something. It came in simple steps:

1. Tubnic didn't want fun.
2. If they don't want it, they won't make it.
3. Sometimes you know better than others.
45678. So you put the fun in there for them since they forget to!

These little lessons applied to everyone. Fortress forgot to be mean,
Empire forgot to donate to others, the Nexuns forgot to have a little bit of
a shift, and Ragers will never know the fun of the chest of inebriation.
Since these people get sucked up into their own little worlds, with their own
little purposes, and own little goals-YOU(Erelia, but you can help too.) have
to inject(no needles required, it's a suppository) some fun/drama/interest of
your own into their lives, even if they attempt to fight it off. Even if they
hate it, they really need it. So, make the fun-And remember kids, it's only
fun until someone gets hurt, because then it's hilarious.

Role

Chapter 3

Torture. The assassin asked her about torture. Malsius, a little bitty bloody
servant of a bigger blooder bloody lady mentioned it after killing her. She,
Erelia, sat on the ground with her legs crossed in the middle of the
Blackclaw outpost. "What are your fears?" he asked, from the shadows, like
most assassins do. She had never thought about that before. Fear.That little
tingle on the back of a child's neck when he heads to bed, the chill a farmer
gets when he smells smoke near his house, the jolt of realization when an Elf
notices an orc hurtling air-bound towards him. Had she ever feared anything?
She remember when she was younger that she had always slept fine in the dark,
witnessed other races and cultures with ease, and could calmly walk through a
spider-filled forest. The assassin, as bloodthirsty as he was, obviously just
wanted to hold her up longer so he could attempt another assassination.but
it was a good question. What did she fear?

While thinking on it, the assassin continued to prod for more
information, likely wanting to know his prey better. "What if your family was
tortured?", he asked her. Erelia took that thought into her head. Her mother,
tied down to a table, screaming. The entire room dark, soft light
illuminating the table, grunting noises coming from the rugged Duergar
standing near it, his blade in hand. Slowly grinning, he slides the blade
across her mother's stomach, cutting it open with no proof other than the
responding blood pockets swelling to the surface. The screaming continues to
get louder, sounding less like a cry for help, and more for death. The image
continued in Erelia's head for a small while, embellishing itself with detail
and gore, partially Erelia's making. Zoning back to the assassin somewhere
near here, Erelia began giggling about the image. How overdone it was, how
dramatic...Oh scream for pain, scream for death! She'd screamed for ale
herself before, why was this any more important? The assassin didn't seem to
get the joke, of course, and considered it morbid that she should laugh.
"Don't you care?" the assassin said with a frown. "Well, if we cared about
everything we should would have a lot less fun, wouldn't we?", Erelia
responded, beaming. Her response wasn't met with words, but rather a quick
dagger to the stomach. Giggling, she fell backwards into a pool of her own
blood, her last senses being the sight of the sky, the smell of clean fela,
the small taste of blood in her mouth, and the last touch of a dagger in her
stomach. "Silly", she thought "I'll never digest the dagger at this rate."
She recognized the futility of digesting metal, but it seemed her stomach
tried anyways....Funny way that worked. Her vision faded and was replaced with a
ghostly view of the small monolith in the open plains. "Oh well, I suppose
I'll go haunt a house". She floated off back to her corpse, thinking on her
newest revelation about caring.

Why do it?
That's the question.

Role

Chapter 2

"How many people do you get to be? Hmm? How many?"

Silence was the answer Erelia got from the children. She peered at them
around her as she sat in the orphanage north of Hamsah. The lot of them
smelled a bit funny, but she wouldn't mention that. They stared at her with
confused eyes, not knowing why this strange lady woke them all up, or why she
was carrying around a xylophone with someone else's name on it. Erelia
continued to stare the bunch down, peering dramatically at all of them, back
and forth.

"You each are sad little orphans. That's it! You aren't teachers, you aren't
sandwiches, and you definitely aren't alcohol, or I'd be all over you.". The
room remained silent aside from two younger boys giggling at perverted
thoughts.

"My point is this. You'll all always be orphans, no matter WHO looks at you!
Not in a sad way, of course, but you know what I mean, right?" No answer,
again. Erelia had never been here before, nor had she ever met an
orphan-Their language was a bit foreign to her, so she began to rant a bit,
smiling brightly and giggling between spaces.

"Well, let me tell you a bit about all the things I am. Firstly, when we look
at me-Try not to be blinded by the beauty-It's obvious I'm a bard. Though my
name's not OlgakarI do keep his little xylophone blaring at my side. Now we
can get to the more complex Erelias! Now remember, I didn't make these
Erelias up, these are simply what other people told me, or showed me. Now,
the Battleragers attack me for being a Nexun and the Magistrates hunt me for
being an Outlander, this is while the Scion kills me for being of the Refuge
and the Refuge chases me for being part-Magistrate and the Nexuns attack me
for me being mad at them burning my village down-This goes with the Empire
attacking me for being a child of the Light while the Fortress preaches to me
with blades showing me that my dark way is incorrect." Erelia pauses,
panting, obviously out of breath from saying the entire speech without taking
one. The children stared at her wide-eyed, unsure what to think.

"The lesson we learned today, my little class, is that you can each be
WHOMEVER you want to be, as long as people tell you that's what you are".
Erelia beamed a smile at her conclusion. As the smile parted her lips, Erelia
The Many started to run out, noticing the Orphanage Prelate with Bladesrunner
entering the sleeping room, obviously hearing the disturbance. Erelia bolted
past both of them, grabbing a coin purse on her way through, grinning. "It's
much easier being many Erelia instead of one.Much less constricting", she
thought. Still, maybe she should find a cause-It might make things more fun.

While contemplating her thoughts over a bunch of ale, she imagined the
profound effect she had on the orphans. (The scene shifts back to the
orphanage, Bladesrunner standing in the room with the orphans, lecturing
them). "That, my young ones, was a hobo. They are rampant in Thera and their
chaos brings their wealth and moral structure downwards. If you could not
tell, she was most likely drunk and lost. Still, do not let her disturb you,
we will keep much better watch on the orphanage for that little
interruption." The orphans stared up at him with respect, but still
confusion. Some lady coming in drunk talking about all

Role

Chapter 1

Erelia's grandiose title for herself was the High
Metechancellommander WarProvost of Thar-Maran. One of such position had to
explore the lands, and become intimate with every nook and cranny. This day,
her travelling led her through the treacherous and entirely unknown
Silverwood!

She stepped gingerly, watching the ground in front of her with each
movement. Each sound drew her rapt attention, as she glared in the direction
of the sudden intrusion. Though a wood-elf, she had never had the easiest of
times in forests, and this was no exception. Her robes continued to get
tangled with branches. She attacked each one separately with a skillful
tug-of-war match, leaving both her robe and the branches mangled. Sunlight
barely pierced the overhanging shrubbery, giving a luminescent glow to her
surroundings. Silence was noticeable, except for the occasional snapped
branch, or mischievous chuckle from the out of place bard wandering the area.
She stopped a moment, nearing a lake, and pondered. "This has to be the most
unexplored area in ALL of Thera! I will be famous!" She knelt near the lake,
taking a brief moment to glimpse at the shining, swimming tubes underneath
and their rhythmic swaying of color and fin. Letting herself have a moment to
rest, she scanned her barren surroundings, entirely ignoring the numerous
groups of adventurers MUCH YOUNGER THAN SHE, who were making faster headway
through the easily-trodden woods.

After the small rest, she hopped up gleefully and continued
southwards towards what she would hope would be a small adventure. Though she
had been this way before, it was much more fun to just wrangle around in the
flora. Bored with the forest, she decided to check on her rival's situation.
She sprinted southward, raucously sashaying through the bushes. Barely
hesitating at the change of terrain, she bolted through the small mountain
path near the Goblin village, quickly climbing the trail higher. Moving as
fast as ever, Erelia barely looked around as she hiked skillfully to the
highest peak, darting into the temple before her. As soon as she entered, her
steps slowed. She began to sneak, as quietly and slowly as possible, moving
towards the center pillar. The bright rooms on her right contrasted with the
darkness on her left, shockingly interrupting her peripheral vision, but she
kept her head aimed straight and true as she neared the pillar. She took a
quick glance up the side of the small monolith, grinning as she neared the
area where her rival sat. The poems at the various altars streamed through
her mind momentarily, distracting her for a moment as she neared the steps.
Goofily, as a child would, she leaned herself over the steps peering upwards.


There he was--The statue still, stone guardian, still standing in
front of that silly portal.

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