Tag: Song

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Birka 2017

Did someone say shopping?

*Puffs out chest* I’m on staff this year! Well, kinda sort of. I was running Bardic Circle that night. But before then, Shopping!

Then after shopping, fashion happened. And then court. I don’t remember much of court, because I spent much of it retaining for both their Excellencies and their Highnesses. Court actually finished on time this year {*gasp* say it isn’t so!} and I had time between then and Bardic Circle. I sauntered my way over to where the Fashion Show had been performed earlier and where we’d be Circling shortly, and to my surprise, there were already folks ready to sing.

We did Pick, Pass, or Play: you pick someone to play a piece, pass it to someone else, or play your own piece. We were getting towards the end of the night, and a middle-aged Italian woman had asked for someone to sing a piece from her homeland. Without even thinking, I had a case of helium-hand, almost hitting the unsuspecting Aneleda behind me, who was also raising her hand. We looked to one another, mouthed, “Cacinni,” and quickly decided to turn a solo into a duet. I would sing the melody, while she sang the harmony.

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When we were done, our new Italian friend, had tears in her eyes. I asked if my Italian was still decent, and she responded she thought I was a native. She continued to go on about how Aneleda and I had warmed her heart, and how we were now fast friends. The Circle went on until about eleven, and then the night ended mutually, as the bards and their audience had been wandering off to find their beds or other amusements at their own pace.

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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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Winterfeast

Fa la la, fus roh da

Who’s smart idea was it to let the bard autocrat an event? Who’s smart idea was it to let the Viking bard autocrat an event? Vikings are known for pillaging, ravaging, and burning, not planning, and organizing, and decorating!

However, this Viking likes food. And I had an awesome kitchen staff. Despite all the hare in the stew.

I spent months planning my first event {Trust me, she did, it’s all she would talk about at fencing practice. (Shut up, Karen!)}  And I never took for granted how much work the autocrats put into their events, big or small. I had excel spreadsheets, checklists, and lists for my excel-lists and checksheets. No, wait.

And best of all, the best deputy a Viking could ask for. My deputy found my masterful feastocrats, and also helped to find the perfect location. I didn’t just want this event to be delicious, I wanted the atmosphere to feel like home. If home had servers. And live music. And dancing. And games. And a silent auction. And room to seat 120.

Oh, and two surprise guests I couldn’t even imagine would grace my small event. But that comes later.

Before I had even submitted my bid. I made sure I had beat all my ducks into submission, and they were all in a neat row. I had lined up all my volunteers, and had my menu planned, and waited several weeks anxiously to find out my bid had been accepted.

Once everything had been lined up, I had about a month and a half to complete everything on my checklists. Everything fell into line easily, almost like I had planned it to. Until two weeks prior to the event…

Dun dun DUUUUUUN!

I had received a message on the Tome of Visages from Astrid, head retainer for their Royal Highnesses. “Hey Solvieg, Guess who’s coming to visit?”

I don’t know, Batman and Robin?

Good guess, but think a little bit fancier. With pointy hats.

Batman and Robin putting on a Statue of Liberty cosplay?

Close, but still no cigar.

Their Highnesses!

*insert cursing in my brain*

My heart began to palpate. What are you supposed to do to royalty? Or is it *with* royalty? Do I also have to dress up fancy and wear a floofy dress? Gosh darn it, I don’t wanna! You can’t make me!

The realization that the event was a week and a half away, and I don’t know what to do with royals or where to put them, or even where they went on my excel sheets, I did what any insane person would do: reach out to my 50 closest friends who had run events before, and ask for their sagest knowledge. And when that didn’t cut it, alcohol suggestions.

I was blessed with copious suggestions, and my mind was put at ease.

Hooray! The day of the event!

Wait, what is all this white stuff?! Why is it snowing?!

Because it’s January in Maine. Gah.

Thanks to the presence of our Royals, the event was sold out before the doors even opened. I had more volunteers than I knew what to do with for set up. And more kept coming. The hall was beautiful, filled with everything from garlands to banners of personal arms. We even glitter bombed their Highnesses chairs (thanks Karen! {My pleasure! His Highness said I gave him craft herpes, hehe!})

The fragrance of fine food filled the air. (<– see, I made alliteration work this time!) And I had just enough servers for the tables, even with Karen bouncing in and out of the kitchen as needed. We even had a small court, thank goodness for no set up. The removes rolled in, and empty dishes rolled out. Between removes, the Malagentian Bardic Players even performed. When there were no Malagentian Bardic Players performances, solo bards got up to do their own. Some I had pre-arranged, and some were a surprise. I felt almost empty, not having performed up to that point. It was my duty to make sure the event kept running smoothly, however, my deputy advised me that for five minutes, the event would be under control with me {Oh, what a liar!} (Shut up Karen!). She encouraged me to get up and sing, and so I did just that. I performed one piece by myself, and then an improvised duet with a friend.

{Karen even got up with the same friend and sang The Feast Song with her! And Karen doesn’t sing in public!}

As the night came to a close, their Highnesses presented me each with their tokens, which were the first ones minted of their reign. On top of that, the numbers were run for the event, and we made a $750 profit {on an event that usually loses money! Wow!}, and a $450 donation to the Riding of Ravensbridge through the Silent Auction.

The snow continued to fall, though my wonderful volunteers stuck around to help break down the event. I think I made it home in one piece. I didn’t leave site until 11:30. I don’t remember how I got home, I just remember crawling into bed and sleeping until noon the next day. What an exhausting and wonderful experience. The cherry on the sundae was receiving from many individuals about how much they loved the variety of bardic performances throughout the evening. 8.5 out of 10, would definitely consider running again, in a few years at least. As long as it’s not a last minute Royal Progress…

 

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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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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 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.

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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.

Image may contain: 4 people, people sitting, child and outdoor

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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Harvest Moon 2016

By the light of the silvery moon!

Malagentia, land of the bad people and my home. I am so proud to be one of yours and surrounded by so many talented people. I would make it my mission to amongst you.

Harvest Moon 2016 was the first year Baronial Bard would be re-established since prior to my entry into the SCA in 2010. I decided I would compete in everything I would be eligible for. I arrived on site, early, to see where I could be of service. I also would be as social as possible early on so I could make sure to be social but be a part of everything I could at this small and crammed event. Upon my walk about the site, I had bumped into an individual who i don’t see often, but still try to be polite to. What started as an average conversation quickly turned into a baradement of me for something I apparently had done in the past. I will leave out the gory details (Which I do not believe I did anything wrong) but note that I now felt uneasy. I felt shaken and like I shouldn’t even compete today whether it be in fencing or Bardic.

I wandered over to one of my mentors, Mistress Camille de Jardin (At the time, Dona Camille), and expressed my woes. She, as she often does, with grace, helped to not only provide a Bardic pep talk, but also had convinced me to don my fencing armor and face her in the fencing tournament. This silly and but fun tournament had lifted my spirits. Though the tournament was coming to a close, the heralds had called for those entering the Bardic tournament to come to the Barn. I resigned my spot in the fencing tournament and rushed to the Barn (This is after changing garb, fixing my hair and making myself look like a more presentable viking.

The Barn had a moderate sized crowd (Larger than expected as there were still other tournaments going on). The format was as follows:

The first piece was the performer’s choice. I decided to go with a piece that was well within my repertoire and that I felt confident that I could perform well. It has always been my experience to start off with a bang and start on a strong note so that if your next piece is not as good, you could have something to stand on.

The second piece was a random subject from a hat. We could perform any genre (Song, Story, Poem, Dance) but it had to be from the subject picked and did not have to be memorized. My subject was “Home”. I could think of no better song to perform than my mentor, Mistress Analeda Falconbridge’s, “I am of the North”. It was not perfect, but it was heartfelt and the audience joined me.

As we waited for them to announce the winner, I sat next to friends and the gentleman I had been competing against. There was a child, no older than 6 who decided to get up and perform as well. Between asking that gentleman who competed again me to please continue to teach and perform. Intermittently, I could not help but but be in awe of the bravery of the young lady on stage, performing the heck out of twinkle twinkle little star.

While watching this young lady and waiting for the judges to come back with their decision, It occurred to me that I had been focusing too much on competitions and what judges thought of me. It had been a long performance journey for me since college and feeling validated had been in the forefront of my mind. I watched this child perform for the pure joy of performing and I needed to find this again.

The judges re-convened and I was announced the winner. The win was still one for me to add so I could do more for the Province, but it was at this point I would focus more on the joy than winning.

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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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