Open Festival Of Stories

[Una Tanta]

46th of Winter, 513 AV The Crystal Hall was adorned from beam to bench with banners and the scent of sweets and spices wafted to all the holds. The elixir of the stories and spiced rum was sweet on Unas lips as she slipped from one circle of storytellers to another. The Vantha were infamous for their abilities and Una had spent all morning leaning back in various positions eyes half shut in ecstasy. Though she spent the majority of her time reading or practicing her own story telling there was an iridescent quality to the air when stories were breathed into it that wasn't replicated by books. As she passed through the many groups crowding around the present storyteller her ears tinkled with the sound of a violin-assisted story. The dark haired boy, Rakku Skyglow, accompanied an elder in her telling. Una smiled, stories were always better when accompanied by a musician. "Boom!" The woman shouted clapping her hands loudly above her head. Una continued on letting the fragments of story pepper against her skin. Passing by one novice group of young Vantha Una lent an ear to the conversation. The woman speaking was pert and thin unlike the typical wide-hipped large blossomed Vantha built for their arduous life. Her silvery blonde hair stood out in the mass of black haired women and men. Una laid upon the luxurious pillows that adorned the benches and floor of Crystal hall this day sipping at her spiced rum and closing her eyes. The girl was obviously mediocre at best, she didn't have the particular Vantha tone or story progression either but it reminded Una of some of the anonymous authors of several stories. "The creature was tawny and bared it's teeth, like a crazy beast, it roared and struck out at the women and children while the men gathered their weapons to strike out at it viciously, watching it's blood teem from it's wounds." Take a breath! Una thought, the never ending sentence leaving her breathless even without having to speak it. While she had enjoyed falling into the depths of others stories listening to stories was more than entertainment, it was a chance for analytic assessment for her own benefit. She frowned at the end of the story and rose to leave. The story had ruined the dream like quality with which she was experiencing the rest of the festival. Common being unfamiliar to her it was difficult to understand and the long winded sentences included too many ideas for her to master with her limited vocabulary. As she rose another voice rose and she moved back out of deference. It was impolite to move during another's tale. This time it was familiar, the familiar cacophonous sound of Vani storytelling. Closing her eyes she leaned back and let the words rock around her like trembling thunder. The Vantha always sounded angry when they told stories their voices rising and dropping dramatically. It was had disturbed her when she had first come to Avanthal, the ability of the Vantha face to remain motionless as they told stories while their voices did incredible acrobatics. Una appreciated the Vantha technique as her own language, Char did not allow for such variation as it was almost permanently susurrus, and only managed ululates at it's climax. This woman was competent as most Vantha were inherently in weaving a tale through simple but eloquent elocution. It was a cynical tale the woman wove but the justice at the end was solace. Typical of the Vantha their tales were often deeply tragic and dark to outsiders as Unas reading had revealed but their inherent belief in justice, morality, and responsibility belayed a less than cynical nature. The next woman began again and Una winced involuntarily but this time her story was succinct, placing sharp snapshots within her minds eye. Suddenly the story degenerated as she slipped a poem into the tale and then upon realizing the tangent wrapped up the story with a finite little bow like a child learning to tie it's shoes. Una smiled half-halfheartedly at the girl trying to disguise the wince evident on her revealing features. The girl was evidently a new teller and new to the Vantha ways if she planned on telling tales like that. The stories continued for a time and Una lazed, stretched like a luxuriating cat upon the cushions like the other Vantha who listened with eyes half shut. As the tale wove to a close Una herself stood her jacket left dangling across the cushions. Her red brocade blouse shone brighter as she moved the variously arranged candles closer around the group encouraging them into a more intimate and enclosed space around her. Taking a seat and crossing her black covered legs over themselves she gazed around the circle the tips of her tentacles shivering with pre-story euphoria. Gently she removed her headdress and laid it before her the shells clinking in against the stones. She normally sung ballads so it was automatic to straighten her back and place her hands palms up before her letting her diaphragm expand and contract rhythmically. Voice euphonic as her Charian accent blended with Vani. Though she hadn't nearly the vocal range of even the most novice Vani her voice slung sentences together easily and had an echoing hollowness to it the deep tampanic Vantha voice couldn't replicate. "A girl, nigh 10 years old groans as she picks out her clothes ruined by the moths bottomless stomachs. Screaming and wailing in rage she rampages through the house like a guileless elephant swatting and killing those her meagre height can reach. Her grandmother approached and scolded her soundly for her lack of respect and drawing her near told her the tale of the moth. "Once upon a time the entire world was as white and grey as Avanthal. It was a long winter, a never ending Winter to some. Bitterness and violence spread as the sun sat obscured above their heads by thick grey clouds. The people felt cheated of their daylight and as their crops withered so did their families health. Despite the dull dredge that surrounded the people butterfly's began to appear anticipating summer but as summer refused to bloom they began to die their wings frozen in ice. Huddled in the fire-lit houses of the people they heard the sick cough and the worried wail. Many butterfly hearts broke that long winter. As Morwen past over the sky above them the bravest of butterfly's flew to her begging and pleading. Shaking her head sadly and saying not a word Morwen continued her journey south. The butterfly's began to despise her and blame her for the many deaths. So much so, that many met in secret and began to devise a plot. That morning, the dew of the nights rain not yet freezing on the ground hundreds of thousands of butterflies took flight."" Una's voice rose with her arms gesturing their ascent. ""As they flew the water slid along their wings draining the vibrant colours and as they became white ghosts of themselves their colours created a rainbow that heralded the spring." The grandmother stopped and stared at her child sternly, "those little moths are voracious because they are journeying to Avanthal my child, the one place where colour lacking is just as beautiful as reds and greens and blues. My dear, these little moths gave themselves for us." "Why did Morwen want to kill us?!" The granddaughter asked tears brimming her wide eyes. "My dear, Morwen didn't want to kill us, she wanted to show us the beauty of winter, the beauty of the subtle, the beauty of winter." "I can see how the moths are beautiful grams but how is winter beautiful when it hurt everyone?" The granddaughter gazed up at her grandmother unconvinced. "Because my dear, the harshness of winter brings out the light and colour within." Gently tickling her granddaughters tummy as she murmured the last word the granddaughter gazed at the wrinkled sun before her and scampered off to make little funerals fit for the warriors she had killed." Una finished the story with her eyes gently shut, the pink of her eyes grown paler. Turning to meet the eyes of those surrounding her she smiled gently. A story needed no introduction nor no end, it was another's turn to speak.

[Koyi Da'kai]

The cold air invaded her privacy, the wind piercing through her coat sending chills down her spine. Koyi looked around wanting to get out of the cold air. She had been walking down the street looking for an answer to why everything had happen over the last few weeks. She rounded the corner only to be faced with the beauty that was the Crystal Hall. The stone steps that lead the doors entrance were curved and covered with snow. The snow on the steps melted and stamped with foot prints. The sound of music and laughter emanated from within the building. Koyi was intrigued rushing up the steps more to get out of the wind then the curiosity of what was going on, but she could not help the inquisitive feelings that were growing inside her with each step that she took towards the door. Koyi opened the door with a fearful hesitation. She felt unsure if she was going to be welcome there at all, but fighting her fear she walked in anyways only to be welcomed to the sight of people huddled together telling stories. She brushed her black wild hair out of her eyes. She looked over the place; it was beautifully decorated as if a lot of thought had been put into it. Looking around all the she could think was this must be some special occasion an event, and was hoping she would be welcome. The site of a Chorada woman that danced between groups intrigued her, making her feel welcome in the sea of vantha men and women. Koyi stalked the Chorada women her black animalistic eyes watching her form the shadows, hidden in the background until the women began her tale. Koyi slipped into the group taking a seat next to an older vantha man and women that held hand. Their hands told a tale of eternal love, Koyi looked up just as the chorada began her tale. The light from the fire reflected in Koyi’s eyes and casted shadows on her dark honey colored skin, it gave her face a frightening look that was only increased by her tribal tattoos. Koyi seemed to ride upon the wave of words the Chorada woman had uttered. She couldn’t help but get immersed in the story. She often came here to escape her haunted past, but today she felt courageous enough to tell her own story. A story her previous bondmate had told her a million times. Koyi felt the cold sweet on her palms as she balled them up, the pressure of them being pushed into her thighs them into her thighs. That showed she was tense and uneasy about the whole situation she was about to put herself in. Koyi went to stand but the voice of another stopped her midway. She had been to late this time; she would have to wait till the man finished his story. It was a childish story about a polar bear cub, which had wandered off and gotten itself killed. The story seemed more for children but judging by the storytellers looks he couldn’t have been much older than fifteen. His story ended soon enough, in a nervous fear that she wouldn’t get her chance to tell her story Koyi jumped up before the young man had a chance to bow and sit. She knew they were looking at her, but it was the fact she could feel their eyes on her that heightened her insecurities and fear. She grabbed her coat in a gesture that would say she was just resituating her coat, but to a keener eye it was a way of protecting herself. Koyi closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she stammered the first line of her story out. “In a time when Relics ran rampant in Mizahar, suppressing the Human race. There lived a man with no name, no family and no passion. He was a normal man trying to survive, just trying to make it. He had begun his day like any other heading out to the field; to see if the hold had lost any livestock and how the crops were. His day consisted of sleep and work every day the same, but today was different.” Koyi looked around and saw she only held the attention of a few. With small exotic gestures of her hand she continued her story, her hands seeming to dance with the story. “He spied a woman her beauty as radiant as the sun she worked under, her skin as pure and golden as the honey she harvested. Her voice carried over the fields as she sung. When her voice reached him, he could have sworn to you that he had never heard a voice so lovely in all his life. It didn’t take long for him to approach her, even less time to court her; before you knew it they had been wed.” Koyi had seem to grab a few more people attention, some curious where the story was going others listen out of politeness. Gaining a bit more confidence she began to add more tones in her voice to further enhance the story. “The man with no name, no passion and no family; had it all now. He had a name, he had passion and he had his wife. He went to work every day same as always but now his days had a more pleasant feel to them. He was herding live stock with a friend going about their usual chatter about their wives and work. When the man had said something unusual “Nothing last forever” He couldn’t help but look at his friend like he was a strange fool. He went about his work and headed home those words ringing in his mind.” Koyi let out a deep throaty roar “The man had heard a roar coming from the direction of his home, dropping his tools he ran the smell of blood was in the air. A relic was standing over his wifes body her blood splattered on the wall. His vision seemed to ripple with the anger that boiled inside him as he glared at the monster. The man grabbed the oil and candle from the table and took a step outside; he threw the oil onto the straw roof that was his house, before he tossed the candle on the roof. The fire sprang to life in an instant burning the house and all in it to ashes.” Koyi looked around a tear ran down her face, she closed her eyes continuing the rest of the story. “The man with no name and no family never lost his passion for his deceased wife. He would go back to the ruins of that house every year on that day and would leave a purple flower. He did this for the rest of his life never taking another, never late always there at that exact time on that date.” Koyi stopped for a regaining her composure and wiping a tear from her eye. “It’s said he died there an old man, at that spot on the anniversary of that day at the same exact time. Those that lived in the town swore that day all of the purple flowers died. It’s said that if you go to that exact spot on that exact day at that exact time you will see the purple flower bloom for only an hour before wilting and dying.” Koyi finished her story with a small bow, before she set down a wave of relief washed of her. She felt better after expressing herself seeming to get a bit of the sadness out. Now relaxed she sat back wondering if there was another story to be told. She couldn’t wait to hear another.

[Una Tanta]

The Vantha around her had begun removing articles of clothing as the press of the many bodies in the hall created a pleasant heat. Ridding herself of her red leather boots as the next man spoke her clothes were jumbled into the mess of Vantha clothes. The taste of stories around her and the events of the last few days dulled her senses. For the first time in her life, she was truly herself. This was her last moments in Avanthal, surrounded by the stories that had lured her here in search of herself, they were her greeting and her farewell. As the black wild-haired woman stood Una smiled, she had just joined the group and sat rigid and anxious in the sidelines. She wasn't luxuriating like the rest of them. Spoken with anxiety and hesitation Una thoroughly enjoyed her story nonetheless as it paralleled her own years journey. She had loved Cy as naively as the woman's man had. She understood the protagonists dedication and the obsession that doting on one's loved one could become. Hearing the old man die upon her grave filled her with joy, if Jared and Jack and many others hadn't come into her life she herself would no doubt be impaling herself on her grief for Cy. As another stood to tell a tale Una slid off the red cushions and pressed into the woman's personal space. Her blouse hung loose against her white skin the gold strands sparkling in the candlelight making her skin iridescent. Her tentacles moved along her skin more quickly then when she had spoke earlier and her pink eyes bored into the others, "That was beautiful..." she murmured. And that was all that need be said. Sinking onto her stomach, her blouse clutching at her chest again, she pressed the length of her body into the cushions she closed her eyes listening to the tales weave around her. The next woman that stood Una immediately recognized as Bora, by reputation not familiarity. Bora was the head storyteller of Avanthal. Una blushed, she had told a story and not even recognized the woman listening. Her tentacles curled into a braid down her back in excitement and anxiety. Una was exhausted by the events of the last couple days and knowing the Icewatch who greeted her with friendly smiles in days would be gazing at her with hurt, betrayal and murder. Una watched Bora rise only to see her heels retreat to another group. The infamous storyteller disappointingly was not going to tell them a story...Una glanced around at the amateurs that surrounded her. "What do you say we find a more exhilarating group?" Una whispered to her neighbor. Her eyes glimmered, her shyness had vanished in the year in Avanthal as had the patient understanding it accompanied. She was ready to seize the world...if her actions didn't get her killed first.

[Una Tanta]

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When the woman glanced at her disgusted Una blushed and recoiled into herself. Hovering awkwardly for a moment she quickly did up her laces and fled the building humiliated.

OOCOh...to be abandoned...

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[Meville Brightshade]

Goodies!

Please make sure to edit your posts in the requests thread to let us know who has been graded! Thank you!

Name: Una Tanta
Experience gained:

• Storytelling + 1
• Seduction + 1

Lores earned:

• Storytelling: Musical Accompaniment
• Storytelling: Power of Pauses

Consequences:

• -5 CM for a mug of spiced ale
• A bruised ego. ;)

Final Comments: :

Ok, not a whole lot of experience or lores, but it was a lovely little thread, and I'm a bit sad it couldn't continue. "Oh to be abandoned" and quite so! Still, the story of the moth was very good, and while you're more of an expert on Vantha culture than I, it certainly showed in your adherence to the typical story structure. I'm not sure about the "elephant", though I suppose there are the mammoth creatures in the tundra about. It's not big deal, just thought I'd point that out and see what your reasoning was behind that. Otherwise, stellar! A few grammatical errors here and there, but nothing too distracting from the story. Keep it up!

Questions or concerns? Send me a PM with "Grade" in the title, and we'll chat it out!