Thanks to Moonshine Manor for giving me the opportunity to perform at your "Ode to Tides" event tonight. I had a great time preparing the performance and even more fun performing it.
I was asked to post this here on the boards for one who was unable to make it. I hope you don't mind. :) I'll let Waybert post his.
[Moonshine Manor, Plur's Pub]
Finely dressed elven maidens serve patrons seated at small wooden tables pushed against the walls. Padded brass stools surround a massive circular oak bar where barrels and casks of spirits are protectively guarded by a black-clad halfling barkeep. A derelict table occupies the dimly lit corner to the southeast opposite a candlelit hallway to the west, while a heavy cedar double door leads outside. You also see the Kakoon disk, a red-footed falcon, the Refrain disk, the icy blue Constal disk, the sparkling Ziled disk, the Chisandra disk, the Kipa disk, a makeshift chalk dart board on the wall and a large gold-banded bin.
Also here: High Legionnaire Kakoon, Bouldardash, Lord Fremie, High Lord Refrain, High Lord Constal, Systra, High Lord Davean, Seomanthe who is sitting, Headmistress Telsas who is sitting, Taezel, Alynith who is sitting, Great Lord Danticus, Neldor, Ziled who is sitting, Karibeth who is sitting, Alifair who is sitting, Greganth who is sitting, Chisandra who is sitting, Kipa, Silverthorne who is sitting, Waybert, Navaeve who is sitting, Jeril who is sitting, High Lord Plur who is sitting
Obvious exits: none
Fremie recites:
"The first performance will be by Arpelli the Muse! Give her a round of applause!"
[Moonshine Manor, Dim Corner]
Cast in shadows and ostracized from its heartier brethren, the table in this corner of the pub shows signs of receiving more attention from a knife than from a polishing rag. Bound with thin strips of barely useful iron and thoroughly soaked in spilled ale is a rickety construct that bears a vague resemblance to a chair.
Obvious exits: out
(Arpelli glides into the pub with a practiced elegance, the gown's fishtail train swishing behind her.)
You say, "Fremie asked me last week --SIX DAYS AGO-- if I would perform for the Ode to Tides event with Moonshine Manor."
You stare at Fremie.
You say, "Nothing like advance notice, hm? Anyway, being as modest as I am, I hesitated -slightly- and accepted the challenge."
You say, "He told me that I could sing about anything nautical. Fish, oceans, sea vessels..."
You amusedly say, "I took a few liberties. I hope you enjoy this."
(Arpelli stands very still, hands clasped at her waist and her gaze fixed on something at the back of the room. Her voice is smooth and clear.)
You sing clearly:
"The moon shines on the waves that wash
in silence 'cross the sand.
Illuminates the foaming crests
and follows tide's demand."
You begin to mope around, feeling very sorry for yourself.
You shake your head.
You say, "This is just all wrong. I can't do serious any more than Telsas can do innocent."
You giggle to yourself.
You ask, "Excuse me a moment...oh, and no peeking, hm?"
You wink.
You remove a small shadowy black crystal sphere from in your gold brocade satchel.
You throw your black crystal sphere to the ground at your feet, where it explodes in a cloud of billowing black smoke. As the smoke swirls around you, you notice that your form slowly blurs into invisibility.
(ooo smoke screen to allow for presto-changeo of costume!)
You work your way out of a sleek cloth-of-gold gown descending into a fishtail train.
You put a sleek cloth-of-gold gown descending into a fishtail train in your gold brocade satchel.
You remove a sea nymph costume from in your gold brocade satchel.
You work your way into a sea nymph costume.
You are visible again.
You set about preparing yourself to be as presentable as possible.
You strike a heroic pose.
You say, "MUCH better."
You clear your throat.
You say, "Now ... where were we? Oh, yes..."
(Arpelli hurries over to the edge of the bar where a wooden chair sits empty. She drags it behind her and places it at the front of the room. She sits down, crosses her legs and folds her hands in her lap, a slight grin on her face.)
You sing:
"My husband spends his life at sea. A fisherman by trade.
It's not the life he promised me, when I was his fair maid'."
You sing:
"I'm in a sea of discontent, I long for his attention.
He's left me lonely, celibate... and more that I won't mention."
You sing:
"We used to share a shipload of affections late at night.
I must admit -- there's something wrong. It doesn't feel quite right."
You nod.
You say, "Yep, I said 'shipload'."
You sing:
"Instead, he says:
A fisherman's life is right for me.
A fisherman I'll always be."
(Arpelli uncrosses her legs and turns to the side. She leans into the back of the chair and tosses an alluring glance over her shoulder out toward the audience.)
You sing:
"It's all about the sea for him. He fishes, fishes, fishes.
And fishing isn't on my list of titillating wishes."
You sing:
"He used to say, 'I love you' right before I closed my eyes.
But now his only interest is a fish of noble size."
You sing:
"I wish he'd get back in my boat. I'd take him for a ride.
He'll worry not 'bout night's wet chill. I'll keep him warm inside."
You softly hum a merry tune, embellishing upon the melody's jaunty lilt.
You sing:
"And all he can say is:
A fisherman's life is right for me.
A fisherman I'll always be."
(Arpelli rises to her feet and walks around to the back of the chair, dragging her hand across the wooden slats of the chair's back. Her steps are deliberate, but in time with the rhythm of her song.)
You sing:
"I slipped a little whiskey in his milk the other night.
With hopes of some small bit of fun, or better, great delight."
You sing:
"Now three sheets to the wind, he only holds his aching head.
Unfortunate those sheets are not the ones upon my bed."
You sing:
"My hints don't seem to penetrate his mind. I'm pushed away.
I wish he would consider them as real attempts for play."
You sing:
"He only babbled:
A fisherman's life is right for me.
A fisherman I'll always be."
You sing:
"I felt a hopeful moment when he groaned, 'All hands on dick!'"
You gasp.
You feel the blood drain from your face.
You recite:
"DECK! I meant DECK!"
You clear your throat.
You sing:
"I felt a hopeful moment when he groaned, 'All hands on deck!'
But never did his lips touch mine. Not even just a peck."
You sing:
"He calls me his landlubber and I wave good-bye from shore.
Still dreaming of those nights of bliss, that I enjoyed before."
You sing:
"It's time to send him back to sea, the master of a dinghy.
He'll sail away and by his side, the rod he calls his thingie."
You roll your eyes.
You sing:
"And she shouts:
A fisherman's life is not for me.
A fisherman's wife I'll never be."
You sing:
"I realize you love the sea, you're at its beck and call.
But this has gone on long enough.
I'm leaving you.
That's all."
(Arpelli places her foot on the edge of the chair and throws her hands up over her head, emphasizing the final words and ending her performance.)
You curtsy.
