Tag: Bardic

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Sing for the East- CD

Some funds, some funds, my Kingdom for some funds!

It had been 8 years since I had done my last professional recording. I was eager to get my feet wet again. The wish fairy came to my aid via the Tome of Visages carrier pigeon. I received a request from Drake Oranwood. Drake was organizing a fundraiser for the East Kingdom Travel Fund. If one is not familiar, it is very expensive to be King and Queen, and so, we, as loyal citizens, aim to increase the size of their coffers.

We would put together a CD/digital download of East Kingdom anthems.

I was sent a piece by Mistress Aife Ingen Chonchobair in Derthaige called The Eastern Tyger’s Roar. I gave the piece one listen and needed no additional motivation. I learned the piece over the next few days and traveled to the Barony of Endewerde to visit with Mistress Aneleda. She had a sweet, sweet setup (next to her washer, dryer, and ironing board).

Recording started promptly at 10:30 PM Eastern Standard Time, and concluded 11:30 PM. I think I may have done 9 takes in that time, some of which may or may not have been composed entirely of giggles. The finished product was sent via carrier pigeon to Lord Drake and were never heard from again until the time of final production. What can I say? I am my biggest critic. 

If you’d care for a listen, and to support the East Kingdom, please follow the link below.

www.singfortheeast.bandcamp.com

 

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Coronation of King Ionnes and Queen Honig

When in Rome, do like the Romans! Wear togas… what did you think I was going to say?

Callooh Callay! Oh frabjous day! My friends were getting crowned.

This little Viking — well, not so little, really — feels weird, because she doesn’t know how to roman. She’s more of a stayin kinda gal, to be honest. Thank goodness for Bianca di Firenze, who knows all about stolas and pallas and I’m pretty sure dressed the entire kingdom. Or at least the Malagentian half.

But before the festivities were to begin, there was always more work to be done for this Viking-turned Roman. Wait, where’s my bling? None of my bling matches! ACK!

I had been informed a few months prior that Lord Alexandre St Pierre was to receive *his* Laurel — I think you’ll start to notice a trend of when I compose. At least, I’m not decomposing. Yet. Wait, what’s that smell?

Anyways, how does one write a song for a scribe?  I made lists of all the things he couldn’t do very well — it wasn’t that long a list. I even tried to read poems about other scribes — don’t try it, because they don’t exist. But what does exist is a passion for hobbies, and then I was inspired by his passion. By his words, by what came from his hands, you could even say inspired by his hands.

I wanted well-rounded scribe, but a talented artist, and an archer as well. So I figured it out. I wasn’t going to write him a song. I was going to write him a poem instead!

Poems were their own sort of challenge, because they weren’t restricted by the same parameters as a song. Word stress was also far different. I hadn’t written a poem for anyone in seventeen years. I guess you have to start somewhere. Again. I stared at blank paper. I stared at ink. I made lists of all  to include *everything* he did, not just the scribal aspect. I used allusions to swords and to archery, and music as well. I was pleased with the product, but as always, shy to present it to the public.

Coronation arrived, and I think I figured out which way was up with my garb — the little arrows Bianca safety-pinned on really helped. I arrived early to help set up his vigil. And schmooze, as you do. And check for the 513th time I was wearing my palla correctly. Which fell off my head over 9,000 times! If I hadn’t been told how much of a hussy I would have been without one, I would have just given up on the darn thing.

Morning court came, and everyone played it cool. I had Alexandre’s little flaggy hidden in my palla, and he was the first one called in. The look of, “Oh crap!” was priceless! Hopefully someone got it on camera! We waved our little flaggies and watched as he was sent off to vigil. He was one of the lucky ones, because he wasn’t there when (former) King Brion made the entire room cry while singing “My Queen” to his lovely wife, Anna. I bet Alexandre’s were the only dry eyes in the entire building as King Brion sang well and with all his heart, nothing could have been more true. It was really freaking adorable. Even the Vikings cried, though they probably won’t admit it, since they were all disguised as Romans.

About an hour into his vigil, I finally got my chance to present my gift to Alexandre. I felt like one of the fairies from Sleeping Beauty. I hope it’s not Merryweather. Oh God, or Maleficent!

Since I lack the skill of calligraphy and illumination — I’m learning, but it’s taking quite a bit of time — I had “borrowed” in classic Viking fashion, a previously created illumination from Ye Olde Internets, and had placed the words of my own composition on it using Ye Olde Word MMXIII. You would think, as a bard, I’d be better at words in vigils. But I feel as if I always walk all over my tongue. I spoke to Alexandre of the beauty that he presents the world, and his multitude of gifts. So now it was my time to give him a gift back, the only one I have to offer. I handed him the framed copy, and then began to read. I didn’t catch his reaction, since I was too busy being nervous reading it to him to look up, but I feel it was well received. I also let him know that I learned a new trade just to be able to honor him that day. I told him that I would be heralding him into court. This is something I had never done before, not just in court aspect, but at all.

The rest of the afternoon passed, and it was time for the afternoon court, the first court of the new King and Queen, my friends, Ionnes and Honig. We anxiously mustered in the hall. We were all of Woolfe’s Company: We were small but we were mighty. Thank you, New England April Fool’s Day storm. We were the last business, but the energy was still high. As herald, I was the second to process, the first being a small boy no older than eight years old, carrying Alexandre’s banner of arms. I wrote the words that morning as I was inspired, and grandiosely presented my friend to the Known World. In addition, I had arranged a Machaut piece (which was of his persona) to be played as I heralded. I made sure the words suited him, and that I was clearer than crystal. The world would tremble at his presence. But not too much, because as Sir Ivan remarked, he is a small man.

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Beautiful gifts were presented to him as were his right, and court finished soon after as all the Laurels swarmed to welcome their newest inductee. I got a hug too.

Now my favorite part of any event, that doesn’t have shopping, FEAST!

This feast would have a new twist — I had signed up to serve. It’s true. My palla found a new place to live, as I became a kitchen hussy. This experience was not only enlightening, because while I had only just recently learned what it was like to run a feast a few months prior, I had never served a feast before. I would say I rolled up my sleeves and dug in, but I didn’t have any. Where it was a whirlwind at times, it was still a great time. The camaraderie and leftovers were great. 9.5, maybe 10 out of 10, would definitely serve again. Besides, any time I can be that close to Gryffyth’s food is a fantastic day in my book!

 

By His Hand

“Look at that,” he said, “how the ink bleeds.”  
It mirrors the way the rivers  
of the soul soak in the parchment
He loved the way it looked
to write on a thick pillow of the pad
To him, it was like music, a song in his hands–
all of the possible drawings,
curves, relationships–  
all of the answers, questions, mysteries,  
all of the problems solvable in that space.
The pen in his hand,  
a key to the prison, that white space.
By his hand, a new beginning.
By his hand, imagery–flights of arrows
Piercing through the stark confines
Like a sword dashing through the dark,
Revealing a new light
in his work, in his words

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King and Queens Bardic Competition

Hit me with your best shot!

It was time for me to put on my big bard… big skald? Pants and go out head to head… neck to neck.. Voice to voice with the best that the east kingdom had to offer. Fuzzy hat? Check! Brooches! (or as some call them, nipple shields)? Czech… I mean CHECK! Documentation? 2 pages…. Check! Repertoire? Checkkkkkkk.

Lets back up a little bit. The week prior to the event, several of my friends, peers, peerfriends had asked if I was competing in King and Queens Bardic competition. I’d frequent statements like, “Oh, it’s too far” or “I’m not good enough” or even “I didn’t know … I got nothin’”. Finally, it was 5 days prior to the event, when I somehow got swindled into competing and agreed. I sent in my email of intent to compete… a whopping 4 hours before the deadline.

The Friday before the event, I drove to Lady Olivia’s abode and realized.. ACK! I had forgotten my documentation on my desk at work. Thank goodness I has a smart and save all my documentation in cloud form. The new task was making sure her printer actually did a thing. A bottle of mead later, we had a working printer and mostly legible documentation.

The day of the event, I wandered lost, gripping my styrofoam cup of milk of gods… dunkin doughnuts coffee in one hand and the other clung to an eggwhite sandwich. I wandered the beautiful venue, gathering myself and aimlessly looking to where troll was. I maybe knew a few familiar faces, but the queen and kings bards were not amongst them. I eventually stumbled on them.

As I anxiously waited for the competition to begin, I was blessed to have more familiar faces there on site. Lady Ada happened to have a fidget cube which she sacrificed for me to calm my nerves. The time had come and my name was called for my first piece. I started by speaking about the piece itself, the translation literal than poetic and then made a -just barely- off color joke. I think the audience received this well. Racing through my head, hidden behind my pleasant facade, was thoughts of “Oh, Viking persona… how well can she sing?” “Oh, she told a joke… she must be compensating”. Even the king himself looked distracted and less than interested at the moment.  It was time, I opened my mouth and the room seemed to lull into a hush. My heart stopped at the end of the cadenza when the applause filled the room. Almost immediately after the first round was over, several individuals approached me with tokens. I was astounded. I have never received more than one at a time at an event, ever. I thanked everyone graciously for their tokens and then wandered into the A and S display to calm my mind a little bit.

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Round 2, fight! It was time to announce of the 16 competitors, who could be moving on. My name was called as one of the last few announced and my heart hit the floor in gratitude. Now it was time to regain my composure for round 2. I had a stories prepared to show that I was more diverse than just a vocalist. Albeit, I only have 1 story to tell, but damnit I am going to tell it.

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I approached as my name was called, and called for the biggest, bravest individuals in the audience to join me. Let’s face it, we bards are hams. I had about 9-10 folks join me. I left their participation description to the end and informed the audience of their parts in my story. Again, fighting the urge to self deprecate myself in my own mind I pushed on. The story roared for about 13 minutes (4 minutes longer than I had planned) and again, a thunderous applause.

Wise guy remarks were dropped to me from the Prince afterwards and I felt good about myself. The final 4 were to be announced, but my name had not been called. That was ok. I felt good about my work. Another several individuals approached me and presented me with tokens, and two more had IOUs for me. The King himself was amongst those who had presented me with their token. I was in shock and awe. I’ll take it!

I approached the current reigning bards for feedback so I’d be ready for next year. I was told my documentation was spot on, my vocal performance was stellar, but my story was too long. I was however, told that I was a fantastic story teller. They asked me if I had more, to which I said, “No, this is my one and only, which I have only performed 2 times prior”. I was encouraged to continue singing and of course storytelling.

 

This may have not made me KIng or Queen’s bard, but I went home a winner!

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Stonemarche Yule 2016

Jingle Bells, the Baron Smells, MacFrode laid an egg…

Ahem, sorry.

This is the year I get to attend, and have no responsibility. The Viking was incognito, donning 13th century garb, trading in my beads for a veil, and a fancy belt. However, never leaving my side is my Bard-Book — like a safety blanket, it goes with me everywhere.

Music was supposed to be run by someone else this year, so it was time for me to be a regular bystander and enjoy the atmosphere. Besides, I had my own little event to worry about back home, I didn’t want to do anything but eat, drink, and be merry. However, we know how these things tend to work out.

A familiar tugging on my kirtle occurred, but not from Photographer-Girl — she was absent this year, and I missed her greatly, — but from the Music Maestra herself. Inquisitively, she asked when music would begin. I gave her a blank stare. I said it was her show, and I was happy to sing whenever she needed me.

More time passed, and another tugging, from a different individual. However, same question. It seemed like it wasn’t just the food that brought people to this event. Finally, a third tug had me deciding to snap the chariot reins. I Oyez’ed for interested participants, and made a space for singing. Luckily, I had brought my security blanket full of a plethora of holiday music. We gathered in the hall, and sang through my usual repertoire. When I ran out of music, it turned out that the Music Maestra had indeed brought her own holiday SCA filks.We sang through those, and the event soon ended after.

I’m starting to wonder if I’m a musical Moses. I hope I’m not doomed to wander for 40 years.

 

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The Feast of St. Nicholas in Queen Elizabeth’s Court

I’m King Henry the VIII I am!

Eight months prior to the event, I received a message on the Visage of Tomes from Mistress Aneleda. And within this message, she inquired whether I’d be willing to serve as an ad hoc choir director for an Elizabethan immersion event. Without hesitation *damn helium hand* I said sure! She quickly put me in touch Mistress Aife/Master Valentine, as well as the autocrat for this event. Most of the communication was done through email. Me, being an introvert with extroverted tendencies, I really just wanted a phone call. But I’d make this work anyway.

I was in charge of obtaining vocalists, selecting the music, and rehearsing for a one-day event. Now, you might think, this is crazy, how can you do that, why would you do such a thing, that’s impossible? Trust me, I asked myself these same things over the course of eight months. I’m sure these are the same questions I would be asking myself if I ever found myself knocked up, and some mornings, thinking about the task I had taken on, I woke feeling queasy.

Much like the first trimester, these feelings passed as this baby grew. I tried to figure out the best way to communicate with my potential vocalists: would it be via the book of faces, email, yahoo groups, carrier pigeons, messages in bottles (I felt like I needed to drink a lot of wine to get through this, so I might have some empty bottles), maybe smoke signals? And finally settled on Facebook, even knowing not everyone used it.

Four months prior to the event, as the second trimester as it were was wrapping up, my search for singers would begin. I joined EVERY Eastern Kingdom Facebook group I could find, and started to spread the gospel. The responses started to trickle in. Some committed, some didn’t, but it gave me hope.

Three months prior to the event. Huh, I should probably pick the music now, just like a parent would pick names, right? I had done my research months prior as to selecting what type of pieces — knowing that each piece had to be Elizabethan, —  but the exact pieces hadn’t been chosen until I knew what vocal range my vocalists had, and how many I would have. You can’t do six-part harmony with only two people, after all. Even Vikings can do that much complex math. I settled on five pieces in polyphony, and a few rounds. I sent out a copy of the scores, midi recordings with all the parts, as well as individual parts, for song-learning, so even if my vocalists couldn’t read music, I should have my bases covered.

A few weeks prior to the event, I kept checking in with my vocalists, to see how part-learning was going. I myself had to study the scores and be ready to assist on any of the four parts as necessary. Also, with learning the score, is looking ahead, and anticipating where there might be part difficulty. My scores looked like a rainbow. It had also occurred to me that I would need suitable garb for this event, because while Vikings pillaged quite a bit, they weren’t around to pillage the Elizabethan court. Aw, hell. Thank goodness for Fortune St Keyne. This goddess, this angel of mercy, whipped me up some spiffy threads in but a few weeks time.

A week prior to the event, I still didn’t have a final number of individuals who would be participating. It was coming down to crunch time, time to push this metaphoric baby out, and it was like we didn’t have a birth plan. Or a hospital. Or something equally important, I don’t know.

Day of event! Don’t panic. Don’t forget your towel. I’m panicking! No, don’t panic!

I was early. I’m always early. I hauled my feast gear, my keyboard, my music, my pitch-pipe, my garb, my piano-bench, and other assorted things needed for the event up the stairs of this decommissioned church. I set my things up in my rehearsal space, and slowly began to decrease my heart rate. Don’t they talk about breathing in those birth classes? Something like that. In all my years of being a choir director, I had never been in this situation before. I didn’t know what levels of experience my vocalists had, or if they had even learned their music. Heck, I didn’t even know if anyone would show up. I asked my vocalists to show up at 10am, so we would have a good two hours of rehearsal time all together. In typical musician manner — or maybe it was Scadian manner? — they were tardy. Circa 10:30, we finally got down to working on the music. My vocalists were surprised that I insisted on warming them up, like I was a professional or something. In my own turn, I was pleasantly surprised that I had a well balanced and versatile group. And they had all learned their music!!! If I could work with them every time I had to choose vocalists in the future, I would in a heartbeat.

I was also pleased to find that every section of music that I anticipated difficulty with came up, and I was able to nip it in the bud quickly and efficiently. Proper planning prevents poor performance, right? The only surprise in the rehearsal was the sheer delight and ease of this experience. Every single one of my singers were prepared and respectful. It was beyond anything I could have even imagined. I even got to twirl in my dress.

The autocrat, Lady Olivia, had done a beautiful job with her dream, though through no fault of her own, had difficulties the day of the event, with kitchen mishaps beyond her control. The only reason I bring this up, because it affected performance time. We didn’t know when we would perform, but at least we had prepared a signal. What happened next was also incredible, performance time.

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My angels took to the loft, and we assembled in the planned formation. Song after song, beautiful harmonies echoed throughout the hall. I got so excited throughout one piece, I lost control of my baton, and it left my fingers. I *think* it missed my vocalists, and landed somewhere in the pews next to us. I was saved the embarrassment of trying to climb beneath the pews by one of my angels, who retrieved said baton and returned it to me. Could a director get any luckier?

Video by : Anna Elisabetta deValladolid.

 

Even during one of the pieces, where it had slightly derailed, they continued to sing like nothing was wrong until we could get it back on track. They were true professionals in my eyes that day. There was downtime for soloist performers as well, which I had arranged, a few of my vocalists had asked me if I would sing that day. At first I refused, because that day was not about me, but I finally decided it was something I should do, if only to stop them from asking.

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Photo by Lady Olivia Baker

I sheepishly approached the front of the balcony and waited for the moment to feel right. When it did, I sang the only Elizabethan solo piece I knew by heart. When I was done, I was glad I had performed, because soon after, I was approached by five individuals who presented me with their tokens. One was chocolatey and delicious.

I am also pleased that after this performance that I gained so many new friends and performers, that I would not give up this experience for anything. Okay, maybe the Elizabethan dress. If I could have done the whole thing in my Viking, the day would have been MUCH better!

 

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Fall Crown Tournament

It was a bright and sunny day. Not as warm as I’d hoped it would be, but warm enough, nonetheless. This would be my first Crown consorting for Sir Marcus. I was told I would have some mighty shoes to fill. After all, Astrid was a mighty viking. I was dressed in my finest garb, newly made for the occasion, because I lost my other finest garb — which of course, I found as soon as Crown was over.

I was early to site, with a hidden treasure tucked under my arm. I had been made aware that a month and a half prior that Dona Camille was to receive her Laurel. I had put myself to the task of composing a new piece for someone who had taken me under her wing. I found it quite the challenge to put to words what this human being was to me. So I did the next best thing. I reached out to her cadet, Trian, and asked him if he was willing to scheme with me. What a silly question that was. Of course he easily agreed.

By Trian’s hand, with a little help from me, there would be words. Due to location, and both of us being on the go individuals, we found it hard to meet up in person, however, thanks to the joys of modern machines, we were able to Skype and use Googledocs to compose at the same time. Have I mentioned how much I love modern machines? Because I really do.

I mean, we used doves, and carrier pigeons, and the Black Arts…. Yeah…

Anyways, after a few nights of tediously working and edit after edit after edit (what rhymes with Camille?) we were both sorta, kinda, maybe okay with what we considered to be the final lyrical product. It was now time for me to work my magic. *spits in hands, rubs palms together, then grimaces at gross hands* ugh….

The muse ran away. Even after I hog-tied her. Of course she did, stupid, frivolous muse! Even after all the shinies I gave her too. Then, as the muse does, in typical muse fashion, I laid in my bed, and she smacked me upside the head around 1, maybe 3 am. Eureka! I needed some tissues to wipe up the way it flowed.

I called up Trian to present the product, and he provided only minor feedback. I’d say that’s a win, right? Not bad for musical vomit in the wee hours of the morning, right?

So, back to Crown, after my musical malady had been cured. I’ll admit most of my focus was on my consort. After all, it was my duty to the East Kingdom, and him, to be who he needed me to be. I spent hours chewing at my fingernails, watching each of his combatants being laid to rest. Between bouts, I would check on Sir Marcus, and then run over to the vigil, to where Dona Camille had been taken that morning. I was lucky to have known the guards well, and gotten my name on the list when I was available. Text in a frame tucked under my arm, I made my way into the tent. The frame sat face-down in my lap and I began to explain to Camille in what words I could muster, who she was and what she meant to me. I turned over the frame, and almost skittishly provided the art that Trian and I had collaborated on. It was to no surprise that rivers ran down her cheeks — not the first time, and not the last that day. I wonder if the pollen counts were too high?

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I then hurried back to the list field when my time was up to watch my champion. Sadly, soon after Sir Marcus lost his second fight and was eliminated from the tournament. This was in the top six if I recall correctly. I couldn’t have been more proud of my friend. He fought bravely and chivalrously, and was an inspiration to the fighter inside myself.

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Soon after, we had our new Prince and Princess, Ionness and Honig, and it was time for court. It would be my first time attending a Crown Tournament court, and after I made myself comfortable next to some familiar faces, court began as dark quickly fell. Her new Highness, Honig, was presenting her first award as a Lady of the Rose, and she called my name. I was flabbergasted, trying to figure out what I could have done wrong. Honig had been, until recently, part of Malagentia, the local group, so she knew of some of my shenanigans, but I couldn’t think of anything horrible enough to get called up in front of court for. She called me up to present a token for my poise on the field. She said to me that she was impressed with my behavior, and how I presented myself as a consort. I gratefully accepted the token, and went back to my seat, where I buried myself in my cloak for the rest of the court.

 

The Maiden of the Gardens

 

Through solitude’s blooming orchid garden,

A graceful and elegant maiden does stride,

Enters our lady, Camille Desjardins,

Lavender waves across an amethyst tide.

 

The flowers herald her arrival,

Blossom with each step serene,

As if her presence Spring’s revival,

All in her grace stay evergreen.

 

Careful she gazes upon their beauty,

with every floret’s form observed,

For she accepts her kingdom’s duty,

to see them on a scroll preserved.

 

Her brushstrokes capture and acclaim,

the trappings of renown and glory,

To skill and service she does bring fame,

And to great battle, and claimed quarry.

 

Upon her parchment she infuses,

Life into the artistry she weaves,

She is the favored of the muses,

Her inspiration the lakes and leaves.

 

She captures the beauty of color and light,

Immortalizing honors with ink and quill,

To bring glory to those who do right,

Her patient hands bear unwavering skill.

 

This art alone could be life’s labor,

Yet her talent flows without such bounds,

Her voice, her stitch, her nimble saber,

The quality of which astounds.

 

Her voice can soothe a heart of fire,

Granting peace and granting reason,

As a lark’s call disperses ire,

that sounds upon the warming season.

 

Her mastery of fiber weaving,

Shows clearly within her stitch,

The way she blends fiber receiving,

awe from those it does enrich.

 

And none would dare to test her mettle,

As this gentle flower does adorn,

Herself with not just purple petal,

But with the our kingdom’s golden thorn.

 

A woman finely celebrated,

In talents stitched and inked and floral,

Does rightly need be elevated,

Into the Order of the Laurel.

 

Words by :  Trian O’Bruadair / Sólveig Bjarnardóttir

 

Music by :  Sólveig Bjarnardóttir

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Fort Knox Demo

Stabby stab stab STAB! STAB STAB!

Is it dead yet? It’s just a flesh wound? Damn it!

What a better playground than a beautiful old military fort on the bank of a majestic river. Armed and dangerous, this Viking went forth with rapier, dagger, buckler, and wit to win the day, or die trying! (Damn it Karen, you can’t win a demo!)

Who says that martial activities aren’t a performance? It was my time to shine. Dona Camille and I were paired for a duel. To the pain! I mean, to the death. My death, usually. We, as glorious Scadians, made schtick happen. I love schtick! I think it’s a prerequisite to getting a blue card, perhaps. If it’s not, it should be. But it started with insulting her companion, and then my partner called for a second for this duel. Two against one! Not fair! Nothing had been rehearsed, and everything was off the cuff. Insults were exchanged, but I think my favorite line of the day was, “My face! You stabbed my favorite face!” uttered by the Dona as she (finally) met her demise. We even had a duel which turned into a melee, because reasons.

When we were done playing, I slipped into something a bit more comfortable — because everyone knows, if you’re comfortable in your armor, you’re either not wearing it right, or you’re missing something — my not-fencing viking gear, that had a lot more bling.

One of the other amazing things about the fort is the acoustics — terrible for sleeping, but great for singing! And it was time to do what I do best: sing! I found a few familiar faces, my old teacher, Mistress Aneleda, and Gregor {aka Gertrude to us Blade Society folk (Bad Karen!)} We locked eyes, and decided it was time to make the pretty music happen. It started with just the three of us, and then our numbers grew. First Scadians, and then even the mundanes joined in; it was so fun to see the joy in their eyes to see the music they knew being echoed.

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One of them was a choir director from the Bangor area. At one point, he even led us in making new harmonies and barber-shop motifs. We probably sang for a good hour before the bodies dispersed completely.

Another fine day at the fort!

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Bardic Around the Fire, Part Deux

It’s that time again, kids! Or well, adults! Might be best to leave the kids at home for this one!

Back by popular demand, Bardic Around the Fire Part Deux was held at Kythe and Sine’s, on another nice, balmy late June/early July evening (things tend to run together when too much fun is had around a fire with good friends, good food, and some good booze). Much like the previous year, there were both new and familiar faces. IT seemed like people knew what to expect, so there was very little for me to manage. There did seem to be a lot more plebeians this time, who were ready to request their favorite song or story, but not quite ready to step onto the stage themselves.

 

Food was a drop more sparse in variety this time, but the alcohol made up for it, and flowed quite nicely. The only children we seemed to have this time were not really young in age, just in heart. This time we even had Battlecat Zeus in attendance, all hail his purrfectness! I swear, if people weren’t performing, they were petting this damn cat. The night roared on, much like the fire, but I had to leave at a reasonable hour, because some of us had work the next morning *grumble grumble* But I would definitely call this another success.

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The Great Balloon Festival, 2016

The Viking invades Auburn, again! A teensy bit tardy this time, because she’s overcommitted. #shocker, right?

It’s time to make the music again! But this time, instead of heavylift gear, I brought things to stab people with. I had heard over the winter that rapiers made for sexier bards, so I decided to try it out. # +4tocharisma, am I right? Bard book in hand, the filk that had started last summer would be coming to life. Mwahahaha!

My repertoire had grown twice over since last year, so I was lucky enough to have more of a variety to pick and choose from. This time, instead of staying in Bardic Grove, I wandered throughout or medieval town. I channeled my inner Miss Piggy and hammed it up. See what I did there, hehe?

Again, after hours of singing, I decided that it was time to go play on the dark side of things and go stab my friends. After all, what is better therapy than stabbing those you play board games with? I think my favorite part of fencing demos is it’s just like being in stage at a B-rated play. I once again channeled my inner Bruce Campbell, a la Army of Darkness, while alive, and my Paul Rubens, a la that horrible Buffy the Vampire Slayer movie that even Joss Whedon admits isn’t canon (shut up, Karen! I like that movie!) when dying. The night came quickly, and I was off like a light, because mundania yelled at me that I had to go apartment hunting — stupid mundane life!

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The Great Northeastern War

O cantare, O solo mio!

A few months prior to the war, I was approached by the A and S minister, Lord Frederick Vandeveer, about giving a concert at the event. Excitement and anxiety rushed over me, you might say it came in like a wrecking ball!

I eagerly accepted, and had thus sealed my fate. After allowing this information to sink into my brain, I realized that, while working a standard 40 hour per week job, my skadian career, modeling, cosplaying, fencing, and an overwhelming need to satiate a need for social connection, an hour-long concert would be a little bit of an undertaking to attempt on my own.

So I decided to call in a life line and make this a tag-team Super Friends concert.

Thus, the birth of Lady Solveig and Friends!

I reached out in a frantic… I mean “composed” (yea, we’ll go with that) fashion to all my talented friend base of performers. The super list included Mistress Analitta Falconbridge, His Excellency Jean Du Montagne, Lady Eva Southerland, and Lady Nuala McKensie.

I had asked all except for Eva to have 2-3 pieces of diverse style to perform. Eva was local to me and would not only be performing her own pieces, but accompanying me on guitar as well. I had also asked everyone to include the titles and duration of their contributions. I should note this was my first time ever organizing a concert.

Eva and I got together many times to rehearse up until the day of the concert. The concert was scheduled for Saturday after court, which seemed to run on forever. To be fair, most GNE courts do. Originally the concert had been scheduled in Bardic Grove, however, due to the copious amounts of rain that had fallen, a more apt title at the time may have been “Bardic Lake”. Therefor, the concert had been moved to the barn.

8:30 or so, I hauled ass to the barn, trying to stay as dry as possible. I was blessed to have heralds announcing the concert, or I fear no one would have come. Circum 9:00, we had about 45 attendees, but 2 of my performers were still missing. But, alas, the show must go on!

I sat on the stage in front of the audience and had a casual conversation with them to warm up the crowd, and perhaps to calm my own quickened heartbeat. And after about 5 minutes of this, only 1 of my 2 missing performers had shown up. Jean De la Montagne, with his 21 Charisma (+5 modifier!) strolled in with his infamous hat (with admirably long plumage!). He offered up this hat to me, and it seemed to have magic powers. The hat bestowed upon its wearer (now me) a new sense of bravado and confidence. At this point, the concert began.

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Songs wove between the first 4 performers until the 5th had finally shown. There was no competition between the performers. Our only battle was against the rain, with its tapping against the roof a constant backdrop to any music we sought to perform.

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At one point, I was so bold as to entice the audience to join in the song. I taught them the round, “Rose, rose”, and had them sing in 4 parts. On top of that, I added another layer of “Poor Bird”, and, finally, Mistress Aneleda added an addition layer of “Hey Ho”.

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About an hour later, the concert was over, and the rain had let up. This whole concert seemed to be in perfect harmony, and I had earned some new followers. All in all, a rather positive experience.