Rhylund Vauler

[Rhylund Vauler]

Basic Information Name: Rhylund Vauler Race: Human Date of Birth: 15th of Winter, 488 AV Age: 23 Gender: Male   Description Rhylund stands at 5'9 and weighs 154 lbs. with a lean build. His hair tip-toes the spectrum of cherry-wood and oak, and reaches down to the base of his neck while covering the top of his ears. Green eyes flecked with brown, grey and gold sit─often narrowed with amused curiosity ─above full lips never far from a grin. The mark of Audius rests upon the right side of his neck: a treble clef as black as night that gives a faint shimmer with any light that it catches. However, rich, dark shades of maroon and forest-green swirl within its lines when he performs music or tells a story with deliberate presence.   Skills Instrument, Lute: 26/100 (26SP) Music Composition: 5/100 (5SP) Storytelling: 15/100 (15RB) Rhetoric: 10/100 (10 SP) Dancing - 9/100 (9SP) Gnosis Audius Lore: Lore of Determining A Small Crowd's Musical Mood Lore of the Musician's Bluff: Masking a Musical Mistake With a Straight Face Languages Common: Fluent Kontinese: Basic Shiber: Poor   Inventory Equipment: 1 Set of Clothing -Simple White Shirt -Simple Grey Pants -Simple Undergarments -Simple Dark Blue Coat -Simple Boots 1 Waterskin 1 Backpack which contains: -1 Set of Toiletries (comb, brush, razor, soap) -Food for a week -1 eating knife -Flint & Steel 1 Dagger w/Sap Hilt 1 Basic Lute 1 Music Book 1 Tuning Fork 1 Set of Dice, Bone 1 Flask 1 Quill 1 oz. of Ink Heirloom: His old master's forest green, wide-brimmed felt hat Ledger: +100 Starting GM +500 GM For Not Selecting Housing -1 GM for Dagger W/Sap Hilt -55 GM for Basic Lute -5 GM for Tuning Fork -4 GM for Music Book -2 GM for Ink, 1 oz. vial -5 CM for Dice Set, Bone -5 CM for quill -3 CM for Flask Total: 537 GM, 9 SM, 87 CM   Religion Rhaus: Rhylund subscribes heavily to the principles of the God of Bards: Rhaus. Despite being directly referred to as “the God of Music,” and the proclamation that Rhaus presides over his chosen profession, Rhylund is most attracted to the musician-god’s sense of freedom of being and an affinity for change. The notion that fate somehow dictates the lives of every living thing is one that Rhylund is fiercely opposed to, and with that comes a lack of regard for tradition and a desire to shape himself with his own deeds. A man is not born─a man is made─and he is wrought from the consequences of his actions. And, while he can seldom exercise direct control over every factor which influences the world around him, it is up to him to decide how to respond, how to act, and consequently, who he will become.   Personality A bard expresses much through music, so music should express much about a bard: My blade is my wit, and charm is my shield. Behind Closed Doors.   Threads A Night At The Stallion 72 Fall 512 AV Body and Mind 74 Fall 512 AV Muse 75 Fall 512 AV Obtaining Audius : 14 Spring 512 AV Wayward strands of tobacco smoke and the soft clanking of mugs swirled throughout the dimly lit tavern nestled somewhere deep within the ever-changing city of Alvadas. It had been Rhylund’s fourth visit to The Satllion’s Rear upon arriving to the city of illusions with his traveling companion and instructor, Moht Nilirrem. The evening had been slow, and the audience sparse, when compared to the previous nights. Being one to favor practical experience, the master allowed the student to share the stage, rotating in shifts between songs. The old man nodded from the bar with an expression of indifference as he watched his young apprentice perform the basic tune he had learned earlier that season with his lute. Rhylund new it was meant to be taken as encouraging, despite the lack of enthusiasm in his features. His hands moved lethargically across resonating strings, and as the sound trickled out of his instrument and into the tavern his eyes slid across the interior’s bare walls and the men and women drinking within. His song came to a close and only a brief handful of slow coming claps greeted his bow. A hint of color touched his cheeks as he quickly turned to pretend to tune his lute. Just remember, it isn’t you, he thought to himself. At least, he hoped it was not him: the place just seemed to have a hushed undercurrent. Moht had suggested the song for that very reason. His feet carried him from the stage before he plopped down next to the older bard. “Good,” the man said simply before ordering two ales. Rhylund cast another glance at the room: an Akalak sat alone at the table furthest from the front entrance reading a book, while a handful of humans circled the one closest to the door. A lone woman remained perched upon a wooden stool at one end of the bar, and an old, balding man with long mustaches curling down in a fountain of white hair past his chin, sat the at opposite end. “Maybe this place could use a good story...” Rhylund rolled his eyes with a grin at Moht’s words. “Want to tell them about how some nameless farmer falls in love with a lady before she’s snatched up by a bloodthirsty beast? Then─let me guess─he is visited by some god and he’s granted the power to slay the monster single handedly while winning her love, and they live happily ever after?” The old bard shot a puff of air from his from his nostrils and frowned at his apprentice. “Well, it’s not my fault it’s so predictable!” Rhylund said, with a disarming smile as he turned to receive his ale. “And what sort of story would you tell then, lad?” The young man shrugged and set his mug down after taking a drink. “I don’t know, something different─mix it up a bit... why does it always have to be some fool man chasing down the first woman he lays eyes on who isn’t ugly enough to crack a mirror? And why are these women always so defenseless? They’re always depicted as some mindless-trophy that the man has to win. I’d take a girl competent enough to rescue my hide from some god-forsaken tower dungeon any day.” Moht arched an amused brow. “First off, son, I don’t think anyone is going to be bothering with snatching up the likes of you,” Rhylund made a face at his words. “And secondly: it’s what people want to hear. Stories are like traditions, and the tried and true are the ones that attract the most practice.” The young man sighed as his fingers drummed lightly on the countertop. “Yeah, but... it’s so boring sometimes. I feel like I could play the lute for the rest of my life and never run out of songs to entertain myself with, but stories? I just don’t understand how some entertainers stick to only that.” Moht took his own drink before replying, “Alright. I’ll humor you: what do you think should be in a good story?” Rhylund studied the rows of glass bottles behind the bar as his right hand rubbed its palm against his face. “I don’t know, something different. Isn’t that the whole point of a story? To hear about something new? Some event of rare happenstance or gand eccentricity? You know what, I’ll tell you what I want in a story.” Suddenly, he remembered the woman sitting alone at the bar. He inclined his head towards Moht, “Her.” Moht shot a skeptical gaze from his student, then to the woman at the end of the bar, taking care not to draw her attention. “Her?” Rhylund nodded, “Just watch her for a moment. You see that Akalak off by himself... just watch.” They sat and drank in silence, watching the woman as inconspicuously as possible. A small smile played across Rhylund’s lips as the woman flicked her eyes more than once towards the midnight-shaded man. He turned back towards Moht, “Now that is an interesting story.” The old man turned his attention back to his mug, “Probably just looking for a meal, I've seen her before: she isn't human. The hissing sound she makes... she's a Dhani if there ever was one.” The young man lit up and gave a slow shake of his head, “I don’t think so─about the meal, I mean. I think there’s a little more in that wandering gaze of hers: it lingers longer than it should─and look at her body posture─she doesn’t look like someone stalking a helpless lamb to me.” Rhylund pushed himself up, with his intent on approaching the woman clear. Moht’s hand shot up and grabbed the back of his coat. “Don’t,” he said sternly, before pulling him back onto his stool. “You’re a hard headed fool,” The word’s left the old man’s mouth as his hand left his student’s coat. “Maybe...” Rhylund feigned indifference as he waited for his master to take a drink. “But, I'll be a hard headed fool with a good story!” He spoke low before springing off his stool to make his way casually over to the Dhani. “Evening. Rhylund Vauler,” He said with a wide smile and a formal bow. “I’m not tipping you,” she responded curtly before drinking her wine while turning her eyes away from the bard. Rhylund’s lips turned down into a small frown before quickly reassuming the most charming smile he could manage. “I would never dream to ask. May I join you?” He gestured to the barstool two spots over from her own as he spoke. “No I─” He jumped onto the stool before she could finish her answer. “Perfect!” He turned to order another ale, “and one more of whatever the lady is having.” The Dhani rolled her eyes and gave an exasperated sigh, “little human, I have never met one ssso determined to meet an early grave.” The bartender frowned at them both before moving to pour their drinks. Rhylund’s smile remained unfaltering as he turned back towards the woman. “You don’t strike me as the type.” Her eyes briefly widened before narrowing as if searching his figure for something, “What do you want?” Their drinks arrived and Rhylund paid the man before tipping his glass towards the Dhani, “I don’t want anything.” He took a sip then set his mug down. “But, I think you do.” He gave the slightest gesture over his shoulder with his head as his eyes drifted to the corner of their sockets, indicating the Akalak sitting alone at his table. The woman's face contorted with frustration, but as her eyes followed his gesture to the midnight-shaded man, her expression melted into a sulky pout that was promptly hid with her glass. “Why don’t you just talk to him?” He asked innocently. She stared into her wine glass, with her head tilted down, before slinging her eyes back up at Rhylund. “Well? I mean, we aren’t all victims of the tendencies of our species, or subjected to the cruel indifference of fate: maybe you’re different, and maybe he is too?” They sat in silence for a moment as he gave his words time to linger. “I’d even be willing to lend my services.” Her face sagged again with a heavy frown. “I’m not tipping you,” she said, in the wake of a small hiss. Rhylund shook his head and exposed his palms to the woman. “Free. It’s all free.” She looked at him as doubt seized her gaze. “Why?” She asked. “Why not? It’s a good story. I’m a bard, it’s a good story and you get a crack at talking to this fella─can’t say I’ve ever met a...” He paused to choose his words carefully, “...bold woman, like you, who is a little shy of a man. Although, he is handsome.” He paused to take another sip, “I get my story, and if we’re both lucky, it will have a decent ending.” He smiled at her as she nodded reluctantly. “You just be at the Sanity Center tomorrow at dusk, I’ll take care of the rest. Oh, and don’t make eye contact with him when you leave: let’s save the surprise for tomorrow.” She gave him one last doubtful glance and a shake of the head before standing to leave. His smile grew as she made sure to keep her head faced away from the Akalak until she disappeared. He turned his attention back to his mug, but as his head moved his eyes briefly met those of the man with long mustaches. A small nod was exchanged between them before the ale and silent scheming was all that filled Rhylund’s head. 15 Spring 512 AV Rhylund stood outside of the Sanity Center with his lute slung across his back as his right foot tapped idly along with the song ringing in his thoughts. The sun hang low, with its final rays straining to reach over the skyline of rearranged buildings casting long shadows into the streets. His eyes widened with a hint of surprise as he spotted the Dhani's slender figured striding towards him. A smile touched the corners of his mouth and he gave her a small wave. “Don’t, embarrassss, me,” she said pointedly as she finally reached him. “Never!” He insisted, with an honest expression. “I told him to come to the Sanity Center then to head East, and to keep an ear open for the sound of music. C’mon, lets find a suitable place.” He moved with light steps as his smile refused to stray: it was all going according to plan. They found a wide alley between two shops with a wooden bench against the side of one of the buildings. “This should do nicely,” he said, satisfied with the local. “Who did you sssay he was meeting?” She asked hesitantly. “A secret admirer, of course.” She reached out and grabbed Rhylund by his collar. An annoyed hiss exposed her teeth as stared deep into his eyes. The young bard couldn’t help the shock that leapt across his face, but with a deep breath the Dhani smoothed out her features and released him. He was more than grateful for the amount of self-control the woman displayed. The bench came to hold his weight as he took a moment to smooth out his coat’s rumpled collar. “Relax,” he said encouragingly. “My master always says, ‘life is full of surprises, and the pleasant ones are never far around the corner.’” He removed the lute from his back and cradled it with both arms as he began to play a simple melody of soothing tones, hoping to ease the woman’s tension. “You just make acquaintances with our Akalak friend.” His hands continued to walk lightly with their fingers across thin metallic strings. “His name is Malssavik, by the way.” He smiled at the Dhani before quickly looking back down to his instrument. A short while passed as the sun slipped further over the horizon, and as the two waited with only the soft sound of music drifting between them, nightfall began its final approach. Finally, Malssavik entered the mouth of the alley. Rhylund smiled to himself as he continued to play without a word and kept his head angled down. He caught the Akalak's frown from the corner of his eye. "I don't believe we've met," the dark man said. She quickly threw a glance over her shoulder at the bard before it was returned by his small nod meant to encourage. "Itsss a pleasssure to make your acq-," Malssavik jumped at the sound of her voice. "What is this!? A trick?" His mildly suppressed disgust was meant both for the woman and musician. Rhylund frowned as the situation began to quickly turn sour. He stood as his hands refused to stop producing the gentlest tones he could think of. “There is no trap, Malssavik, only a chance to meet someone new. To try something that has most certainly never been tried before!” He took a step towards them as he spoke, he did his best to imitate his master’s voice when he told romantic tales of intrigue and forbidden passion. The Dhani promptly rounded on him, “Thisss wasss a huge missstake, and you are going to pay dearly, little bard.” This time it was the Akalak’s turn to move closer, “step away from him, Dhani. For all I know you’ve threatened this poor man with harming his family or used some foul magic to manipulate his thoughts.” Rhylund opened his mouth to try and stitch together the pieces crumbling before him as a woman’s voice sounded out behind Malssavik. “There you are!” The three all turned to see a small, human woman with long blonde curls walking slowly towards them from the alley’s mouth. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you Malssavik.” She stopped and wrapped her tiny arms around one of the Akalak’s massive biceps. “Who are your friends?” She asked, with a smile that failed to touch her eyes and exposed stunningly-perfect teeth. The music sounding from the bard came to an abrupt halt as right hand rose clutch his face, voicing a small slap from his palm. “You didn’t mention you were courting someone, Malssavik.” His voice was muffled and rough with a touch of frustration. “I─we’re─,” Malssavik frowned at the bard before continuing. “Well, I expected it to be someone I knew, and certainly not a snake. I thought it would be rude not to at least tell them in person that I was already involved with somebody else.” The Dhani folded her arms and wrapped her cloak tightly around her, guarding her figure. Rhylund was floored by how poorly this was all turning out. “Well, if you’ll excuse us, we’ll just be going.” The small blonde began to turn Massavik in place, but before they could move more than two steps a fifth voice sounded from the opposite entrance to the alley: “Step away from the girl!” Rhylund’s upper body went slack as his mouth hung open and his eyes looked straight up into the night sky at nothing in particular. “You too!?” He said, with a half-hearted gesture aimed towards the Dhani. He stood up straight as he turned to address the newest addition to the popular side street, but froze dead in his tracks as he recognized the man with the long mustache from the night before. The balding man moved towards them, his stride slow but his posture fixed and eyes shining full of purpose. His jaw extended to draw a deep breath, and as his lungs contracted, a sound like Rhylund had never heard before filled the air. It was one tone, and many, all at once. He could feel his bones beneath his flesh resonate in harmony with the man’s voice: everything in that alley seemed to change and shift so that it vibrated within the same unworldly key. The strings on his lute were compelled to sound on their own. Rhylund’s eyes began to water and his stomach felt as if he were falling rapidly through space. The world around him faded into nothingness. Two loud, hollow claps of thunder and the crack of a static-hiss sounded from behind him before pulling the young bard back into reality. He turned to see Malssavik sprawled out against the far wall and the Dhani laying a few paces to his right. The blonde woman had fallen to her knees, her upper body thrashing wildly with her mouth wide open─screaming silently. Her tiny hands clutched at her chest and stomach, and her wide eyes seethed with a concoction of anger laced with terror. Finally, her body toppled backward onto the rough ground, before growing still. Rhylund quickly slung his lute over his back and moved to help the Dhani to her feet before doing the same for the Akalak. When he turned back to the small woman, he spotted the man with the mustache standing over her lifeless corpse. “Wailer.” He said simply. Rhylund gaped openly: he had only heard his master mention them once or twice in passing. To his further surprise, the man from the night before was no longer weather beat and aged by many years of hard living. This man looked to be about as old as the young bard, despite the cascade of hair falling down from above either side of his mouth. The groans of his would-be-friends snagged his attention as he pried his eyes off of the man. Slowly, they both shook themselves off and eyed the girl’s corpse as if it would spring back to life. “Wailer?” they both repeated in unison. A moment of quiet calm crept by before the Akalak finally spoke up. “Thank you, stranger. I... I had been spending so much time with her─I never would have suspected. You may very well have spared me a gruesome fate.” The mustached-man studied the Akalak before finally offering a modest smile and subtle nod. The midnight-shaded man moved to leave, but paused as his side came to cross the Dhani’s. Their eyes met, and with the faintest hint of hesitation he said, “maybe it would would be safer not to walk these streets alone.” The Dhani looked back to Rhylund and the mustached-man before nodding in agreement. “I think you are right.” Together they walked off in silence. Rhylund practically threw his body back onto the bench, remembering only a moment before impact that his lute was still on his back. He shook his head in disbelief: one world shattering surprise after another. He looked up as the mustached-man sat down next to him with a chuckle. “Who are you?” The young bard asked, forgetting his formalities in an uncharacteristic manner. “That was quite a feat of a love story you just accomplished, young man. It’s not everyday you see a Dhani and an Akalak walking side by side: even if there is no future romance. But nothing is forever, and nothing is for certain. For all we know, their people might forge a powerful alliance in a time that has yet to pass.” A sigh left Rhylund’s mouth as he studied his feet for a moment. “Worth every moment of it. Although, if that wailer hadn’t have been here, the Dhani would have probably killed me herself...” His head suddenly snapped up to take in the other man. “How did you know that was a wailer?” The other man laughed and clasped Rhylund’s shoulder with one hand. “Do you sing, lad?” Rhylund shook his head slowly in response. “Then take out that lute and try to keep up.” The man waited for the young bard, and once his hands sat poised on the neck and strings, the man began to sing again. This time the melody was much less overpowering, but even more enthralling. Rhylund’s hands moved without thought, and as quickly as each note formed, they quickly decayed into memory. He became aware of a tingling sensation moving in two parallel lines on the right side of his neck, but the music held his attention steadfast and the feeling quickly became an afterthought. Silence blanketed the alley once more as they came to finished their last phrase as if it had been rehearsed a thousand times. The mustached-man pushed himself up off the bench and turned to give the other a bow. Rhylund's right hand rose as he remembered the sensation on his neck as his fingertips traced a line of raised skin. The motion brought to mind the image of a trebel clef: it’s round head sat just above where his neck met his shoulder and the design ran up towards his ear. “Call it my tip,” The man said with a smile. “It’s been awhile since I’ve enjoyed such a bizarre tale, and it is always refreshing to see someone so young willing to put themselves forward for no reason other than a good story.” Rhylund listened with confusion painted across his face. “Who are you?” He asked again. The man smiled and answered simply, “My name is Rhaus, young Master Rhylund. Now, I must be going: but, I expect you to continue down the path you have already begun. I suspect I’ll be hearing more of your unorthodox approach to the life of a bard...” With that, Rhaus turned on his heel and walked down the alley before being consumed by the night.