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Karsh was nervous. He had just finished the poem he had written last night, and he wasn't sure if it was any good. He was going to recite his poem in front of a crowd tonight. It was a contest to figure out who the best bard was in all the realm. Well perhaps not in all the realm, perhaps just in Highwood.
There were several bards already, who had played their lutes or a harp or a lyre or some other instrument and had kept the audience spellbound with the songs they sung. Karsh had tried to learn a lute once. It had led to the lute having a very short life before being broken in frustration. Perhaps he wasn't that good at instruments, but he always thought himself of having a pleasant voice and he wanted to cast a spell on the crowd like the rest of the bards.
When he got up from his seat, he stood up six feet over any of the other people. He walked slowly with a hulking cadence, trying his best to pass through without bumping into anyone. That proved difficult due to his immense size. The axe that was strapped on his back smacked against a goblin who started cursing before looking at him and deciding that it was better to not start a fight. There were mutterings going on. But he was used to them. After all, what would a half-orc who was dressed like a barbarian going up to the stage for.
In truth, he didn't have the time to explain to all and sundry that there were no bard clothes in his size. So, he wore what he usually wore, which was breeches and a shirt. He lumbered up to the stage, cleared his throat nervously, took out his poem he had written on a paper and began-
"An Ode to War
Why does my heart beat just thinking about you?
Why do thoughts of you make me want to sing a tune?
Oh War, war my one true love.
The Dance of war has so many steps that I'd like to learn you
though I'll know that I'll never finish learning you.
I can never go far without sighing for you
For there is nothing more pleasing,
nothing is more energizing
nothing more that gets me up in the morning,
than War, oh war my one true love. "
Karsh bow and left the stage. There were scattered applause, but he had certainly not brought the roof down. He sat back in his seat and waited. Finally, the award was given to a human bard who had played the lute most beautifully. Karsh clapped alongside with everyone else when that person went and received the prize. Karsh wasn't proud of how his poem was received but he was proud of one thing. He was proud that he had written down his poem from the heart. In time, perhaps, he might be as good as any court bard could ever be.
There were several bards already, who had played their lutes or a harp or a lyre or some other instrument and had kept the audience spellbound with the songs they sung. Karsh had tried to learn a lute once. It had led to the lute having a very short life before being broken in frustration. Perhaps he wasn't that good at instruments, but he always thought himself of having a pleasant voice and he wanted to cast a spell on the crowd like the rest of the bards.
When he got up from his seat, he stood up six feet over any of the other people. He walked slowly with a hulking cadence, trying his best to pass through without bumping into anyone. That proved difficult due to his immense size. The axe that was strapped on his back smacked against a goblin who started cursing before looking at him and deciding that it was better to not start a fight. There were mutterings going on. But he was used to them. After all, what would a half-orc who was dressed like a barbarian going up to the stage for.
In truth, he didn't have the time to explain to all and sundry that there were no bard clothes in his size. So, he wore what he usually wore, which was breeches and a shirt. He lumbered up to the stage, cleared his throat nervously, took out his poem he had written on a paper and began-
"An Ode to War
Why does my heart beat just thinking about you?
Why do thoughts of you make me want to sing a tune?
Oh War, war my one true love.
The Dance of war has so many steps that I'd like to learn you
though I'll know that I'll never finish learning you.
I can never go far without sighing for you
For there is nothing more pleasing,
nothing is more energizing
nothing more that gets me up in the morning,
than War, oh war my one true love. "
Karsh bow and left the stage. There were scattered applause, but he had certainly not brought the roof down. He sat back in his seat and waited. Finally, the award was given to a human bard who had played the lute most beautifully. Karsh clapped alongside with everyone else when that person went and received the prize. Karsh wasn't proud of how his poem was received but he was proud of one thing. He was proud that he had written down his poem from the heart. In time, perhaps, he might be as good as any court bard could ever be.