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 Posted: Sun Nov 02, 2008 3:14 am
"Difficult crowd tonight", Birch mused. Many off them looked ancient enough to drop from the tree at any moment and Birch doubted that they'd appreciate his music. And as hilarious it would be to ruffle their feathers he did plan to eat tonight. Pissing off those that might feed him was not a very smart thing to do. Fun, but no - not tonight...
A story then, one of the classics, but it also had to be good enough to capture the interest of the rowdy bunch of fledglings in the front. Ahh… The legend of Wildwood of course, the way his grandfather used to tell it. The bard opened his wings to silence his audience before starting to tell his story.
"They say that in a time of great need, a great hero will arise to save Noctua. I will tell the legend of Wildwood, the greatest Wildtype this clan have seen since Noctus himself flew in the forest."
He made a pause for effect, and to allow his audience to settle. Birch told the story just like Alder used to tell it, and he didn't reflect over the fact that he had just all but said that Noctus was a Wildtype.
"It was, indeed, a time of great need when Wildwood hatched. The Great War had raged on for many years and it did not look good for Noctua. It is told that Wildwood was unusually fierce for a hatchling and that he hunted for himself from the day he fledged. At his graduation he surprised everyone present when he proclaimed his task."
Birch straightened up, trying to look like a young eager combatant (managing to look very much like his mother). He met the eyes of the oldest looking Sentinel in his audience and announced:
"I will be the greatest warrior this clan has ever known.
The Watcher behind his back did not know what to think or say. It was very much expected that this young one would take a combatant task, but the greatest warrior? He finally managed a shrug and a nod to the warden conducting the ceremony. The warden tapped her claw thoughtfully and said..."
Birch paused and didn't break eye contact with the old female in the back. She should have heard this story before, right? But did she understand what he wanted her to do? Or did she understand but would rather see him look like a fool for standing here in silence? Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.
But with the hint of a smile the female cleared her throat and answered him:
"Very well then, you shall serve this clan as the greatest warrior."
Birch started to breathe again and beamed at the female. Oh he loved it when things just worked out!
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Posted: Sun Nov 02, 2008 1:32 pm
Bracken landed silently among the crowd, settling near the back. An hour or so ago he'd been flying here and there, talking to the locals he could find; but his questions usually got him little, especially from wary strangers. Frustrated by the slow progress, Bracken eventually decided to use Plan B.
The Seeker had heard of Birch through hot talk. Known as 'the Bard with three gender spots', 'the noise lover', and 'oh, him', Bracken thought he might have dug up someone with information. He was never partial to Bards, but they always seemed to be in the know, especially ones who were infamous for their talents. It was lucky another Sentinel could point him in the direction that he was performing tonight.
I must be late. The Bard has all ready started, he thought sheepishly, tucking himself as back as he could.
And what a Bard he is...
Bracken scrutinized, two pale yellow eyes lit up among the dark eaves of the audience. Three rows of gender spots? So the rumors were true- the Seeker didn't know what to make of that, beyond objective amazement.
He'd have to get in there and talk eventually. For now, he figured he should sit back and enjoy the story.
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Posted: Mon Nov 03, 2008 12:32 pm
Birch was really starting to get into his storytelling and was oblivious to the Seeker that had joined the crowd. It wouldn't really have bothered him even if he had noticed since Birch had yet to have any serious trouble with the law.
"Now, many doubted that Wildwood would manage to live up to his self proclaimed task," Birch said, and took the time to let his gaze wander to make sure he made eye contact with as many as possible in his audience, "They figured he was just another hothead who would do better if he tried to stay out of trouble until he managed to grow some sense. What in the woods was wrong with hunting for the real fighters and make sure they were well fed and fit for fight? Hmm?"
Birch paused again and from the looks of it all of the older Sentinels and a good few of the younger ones knew what would happen next. He continued, letting his voice become stronger and stronger as he described the Wildwood almost everyone knew and loved.
"As you surely know, the valiant Wildwood soon became recognised as a great warrior, if not the greatest, and ought relentlessly for the Sentinels and struck fear in the heart of our enemies. They say he always kept his talons sharp, and that he dyed them red as fresh blood to frighten the scum he would meet on the battlefield."
The bard was almost hissing at this point and one of the younger Sentinels in front had puffed up in fear or anger.
"When they were close enough to see his talons," he hissed dangerously, "the enemy knew that their blood would soon make Wildwood's talons even redder. And they were right to be frightened because Wildwood could out-fly anyone."
By now Birch had puffed himself up in a full blown threat display, and while he wasn’t nearly as intimidating as a combatant it was an effective way of enhancing the story.
"Back then it was custom to honour those that had died by using the flight feathers of the deceased to mend broken feathers," he explained, letting his feathers settle slowly, "And some even cut and replaced all their flight feathers."
Any Sentinel would know that using someone else's feathers would make the wings unbalanced and make flying much harder, but Birch still paused for a while to let this fact sink in.
"It is told," he continued, "That Wildwood replaced his entire set of flight feathers with those from his fallen comrades. And he could still fly faster than the fastest of his enemies, and he would hunt them down carried on the feathers of his dead comrades."
It wasn't quite the story his grandfather used to tell, but Birch would have been a lousy bard if he hadn't embellished the story just a little bit. Still, it was time to wrap it up, and what better way to do it than by reciting his grandfathers ending to the legend.
"There are no heroes like Wildwood today," Birch said slowly, "But any young hunter or gatherer would do good to fly to the Two Oaks and put a feather down to remember the greatest there was. And to hope to one day possess even a fragment of his bravery and skill. I'm sure you have heard many more of his legendary deeds, but my story ends here tonight. Remember Wildwood and the Battle of the Two Oaks, and pray that Noctua will never need a hero like him again."
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Posted: Tue Nov 04, 2008 12:25 pm
He'd always enjoyed these sorts of stories, despite rarely being around to listen to them. They always touched some forgotten dream he had as a fledgling, pulling some heartstring he had long since buried with graduation and his work.
Birch in question was a good storyteller, and when it was over, Bracken hooted in appreciation. Ah, Wildwood... he hadn't heard that tale in a very long time, since he was a fledgling at least. But still, he had a job to do, and he snapped himself out of his reverie, quickly wiping the smile from his face.
The audience was shifting this way and that, some leaving, some settling in hopes of more. Bracken took the opportunity to wing over to Birch, his yellow eyes lit with curiosity.
"Greetings Bard," he said, "That was a very nice tale. I'm Bracken, a Seeker around these woods."
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Posted: Wed Nov 05, 2008 1:45 pm
Birch ended his tale with an elaborate bow, pleased with the response.
"Thank you, thank you," Birch hooted and bowed once more, "Please join us at the Crownleaf theatre next new moon for some of Peatbog's classic tales, told by the Brigadier's Bards!"
He always tried to advertise the theatre, even when he was performing on his own somewhere. Business for the Brigadier's bards was business for him too, after all.
It wasn't unheard of for Sentinels to approach him after a performance, but it still made Birch a little bit giddy when someone liked what he did. He hadn't met this particular Deep Woods yet, and while the praise was what interested him the most right now he noted name, task and appearance and filed the information away for later. You never knew when you needed a favour, and Birch had many acquaintances scattered across the forest. He hardly knew most of them, but he could almost always remember where to find a decent artisan, who had a Mus-keeping daughter or what that gatherer who liked to trade food for entertainment was called.
"Thank you Bracken," he said and beamed at the agreeable fellow, "My grandfather used to tell me that I wouldn't even have hatched if it wasn't for Wildwood. I'm Birch by the way, Bard at your service for your entertainment needs!"
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Posted: Thu Nov 06, 2008 1:04 pm
"Yes, yes," he said, nodding, "Your grandfather sounds like a very wise Sentinel..."
Truthfully, Bracken had never been any good at small talk, and if he hadn't grown up so cruel, he might have been very shy. In some ways he envied the Bard- for being able to talk to freely, to be such a great story teller... if only things had been different, perhaps, he could have been the one talking about wild tales.
Focus, he thought, and came back to the present. Now was not the time, and this would be completely embarrassing if anyone knew him proper. Bracken decided to get down to business, before any further conversation became awkward.
"Ah, but never mind that. May I have a word with you?" his tone quickly became flat, "I'm in the middle of an investigation, you see..."
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Posted: Sat Nov 08, 2008 8:07 am
Birch was cut short before he could start to brag more about his fantastic grandfather, the gatherer. And everyone present should probably be thankful for that.
"Sure," Birch said and laughed, "I'm not in trouble am I?"
Those that knew him very well might have heard a hint of nervousness in the laughter, but most would not. The bard was pretty sure that no one would trouble themselves with employing a Seeker just because a harmless little song about their mother happened to upset them, but you never knew. People could be so fickle.
"Let's perch up there," Birch said and pushed off with a jingle. He flew to a higher branch a few trees over. It would leave the branch he had used as a 'stage' open for someone else to step up, and hopefully provide enough privacy for the Seekers taste. Birch could always fly back later if there was still a crowd to entertain.
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Posted: Mon Nov 10, 2008 1:02 am
"All right," he said, quickly following. It was a good idea, in retrospect, that Birch had been kind enough to do something like this- Bracken didn't want anyone eavesdropping on conversation that could wind up being very important.
After he'd landed and settled, he continued their conversation. "You're not in trouble, no," he affirmed with a nod, "I apologize for intruding like this, but I was curious about any rumors you might have heard recently..."
His sincerity was a lie, of course, but his curiosity was not. He hoped Birch had something interesting to tell- he'd ask about that woodworker in a moment, ah, what was his name, Basil?- and see if the Bard knew anything more.
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Posted: Tue Nov 18, 2008 11:46 am
Since he was apparently off the hook for now Birch allowed his curiosity to get the better of him. Someone else could be in trouble, right? And as a Seeker Bracken might even have some gossip of his own to share...
"Rumours?" Birch said, giving this some thought. He knew a lot of recent bard-gossip, like that terrible dye job one of the skydancers decided to get this season... But what happened among bards stayed among bards, and the latest news about who hated who was probably not what Bracken wanted anyway.
"Well... there's the ongoing debate about when Sleet is going to pick a mate, and who he'll settle with," he said, and the fact that Bracken was a Seeker was the only reason he didn't crack a cheap joke at Sleet's expense.
"Oh, and there's been some talk among the Minders about a fling breeding." he said, remembering something about a hunter, a watcher and a lot of eggs that had promptly been distributed among the minder enclaves.
"Lots of eggs apparently, but the parents weren't serious about it, so off they went to the enclave," Birch continued, "And to make it all even more fun it was a mixed type mating and some of the Minders refused to take the aberrant eggs, so there was a lot of fussing and drama before the poor things got settled properly."
The bard looked more amused than outraged over this juicy little scandal. Minders might seem harmless enough, but upset one of them and the whole forest would soon know...
He scratched under his chin with one of his feet, something that might have made him look thoughtful if it wasn't for all the jingling it caused.
"Oh, and when I travelled through a Minder enclave a few nights ago they were all very rattled about some unfortunate individual that had been found dead near one of the other enclaves." he said, "The Minder I spoke to was certain there had to be foul play involved."
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Posted: Tue Nov 18, 2008 9:50 pm
"Hmm..." Bracken closed his eyes, trying (and failing) to calm rising frustration and a rising temper. What was this fool Sentinel prattling on about, courtship with higher ups and more, different abberant drama? It was to be expected, really, because he'd asked a broad question and gotten a broad answer. But it still made him mad.
He gave a small, impatient sigh, trying to pick through the information one by one. The first bit about Sleet, that definitely didn't concern him, and unless the Elite produced abberant eggs, it probably never would. He skimmed it over.
The next bit- a clutch of abberant eggs... his ear tufts pricked backwards at the thought. The woods never seemed to run out of those abominations, nor the egg-headed Sentinels that produced them.
"Do you know anything about the parents of the abberants?" the Seeker said, and when he opened his eyes, they looked angry. Disgusting... completely disgusting... poor 'things' indeed. Abberants should not exist.
He tried not to get any more annoyed than he all ready was at Birch's loud, cumbersome noisemakers. Bracken found them completely obnoxious, but that last bit of information sounded too promising to simply pass up by being spiteful.
"And about the dead... individual," he said, knowing an Elite must all ready be looking into the situation, "Do you know where they might have come from? Was it a chick?"
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Posted: Sat Nov 22, 2008 1:32 pm
Birch wasn't sure if he had gone too far when he started to talk about Sleet. Either way it was painfully obvious that something had upset Bracken.
"Hmmm... The parents?" Birch had not failed to notice the Seeker's angry glare, and he lowered his ear tufts a little. The cheerful bard routine was clearly not properly appreciated. "A hunter - Steel-something I believe, and a watcher. Didn't catch her name."
It wasn't a lie. No, not really. And Birch was skilled enough in telling tales to avoid looking guilty. Sterling and Steel were similar enough names, and in case the Seeker was interested just because the fling had resulted in aberrants... Well, Birch wasn't going to help him harass some poor sod who had made a mistake.
The other question was harder to answer, and Birch had to think back to the conversation with the Minder.
"I'm not sure where the body was found," he said slowly, "But it couldn't have been the oakleaf enclave since that's where I was. And..." he paused, trying to remember every word that was spoken that night, "...no, she never mentioned the age of the individual, but I assumed it was an adult since they all were so scared. She did say 'poor thing' an awful lot but she calls everyone that."
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Posted: Sun Nov 23, 2008 9:33 pm
"Hmm..." he grumbled, staring straight ahead and through Birch- mulling over the information. The Hunter and Watcher did not concern him, unless the bard had the wrong information, but it still left him feeling sour. He tucked the information away later, when he could harass them proper, on his own time.
For the good of the Clan, an old, familiar voice drifted through his head, and he could only agree.
"Tsk," Bracked clacked his beak, snapping back into the present.
"Are you positive you have no other information?"
His voice was pressing, entirely too impatient, and thoroughly unconvinced. He had almost pinned the Bard where he wanted him, and if he just kept pushing, surely he would get the information he needed...
Come on, you obnoxious owl! Your stories were good, but they're /all/ that's good about you!
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Posted: Fri Nov 28, 2008 6:54 am
"Information about what," Birch asked with a forced smile on his beak, "I hear a lot of rumours but I doubt you want to hear about every mating or territory fight or Mystic sighting I've learned about lately. Did you say you were looking for information about a dead chick?"
He felt himself liking this Seeker less and less for every minute. Bracken was clearly not pleased with what Birch told him, but he hadn't even mentioned what it was he was investigating. This was not how things worked... Sharing rumours was all about giving and taking, and all he was getting from the Seeker right now was frowns and beak clacking.
"If you want to hear more about the dead guy you're probably better off asking around in another Minder enclave than the Oakleaf," he said, preening his flight feathers while he talked just to annoy Bracken, "Try asking for Hickory in one of the big Minder enclaves in western Deep Woods, he's a fairly dark Wildtype and everyone knows him. If there's a juicy rumour around he should know about it."
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Posted: Fri Nov 28, 2008 1:24 pm
The nerve of this guy! Bracken's ear tufts pricked backwards in annoyance, his yellow eyes gaining the usual angry quality. He was trying very hard not to do something- or say something- brash, but his patience was rapidly dwindling with every moment that Birch opened his beak.
"Thanks," the Seeker said icily, "I will do that."
Just as he was turning to leave, a sudden thought struck him, and he turned back around, eyes lit.
"You might want to get rid of those obnoxious..." he eyed the noisemakers on the Bard, "... things."
There wasn't any reason to be so snarky other than the fact that he could, Birch was making him angry, and the Sentinel was obviously tacky. Bracken got the feeling that he would also be someone who loved abberants or stuck up for them- they were always weird like this- and that judgemental thought only fueled the fire.
"They're hideous, but I suppose they go well with your third row of gender spots."
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Posted: Tue Dec 02, 2008 4:41 am
"Really?" Birch asked, more amused than anything, and lifted his foot making the offending bells jingle, "Well, I suppose they are a bit plain. Thanks for the suggestion!"
A comment like that from a Sentinel like this was a compliment to the bard and his grin was genuinely happy this time.
"Perhaps," he said slowly as if he had just thought of something new, "I could direct you to a helpful crafter or two, and you could trade for a noisemaker of your own."
It might be stretching things a bit too far, but he just couldn't help himself. The bard looked completely relaxed and happy, but he was mentally prepared to fly if the Seeker should take offense because of this "helpful" suggestion.
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