He looked up at his new patron, “I could use another.” He said flatly as he carefully removed his Lute from its case and began to minutely adjust its strings. 

     When the newly ordered pint came, he took a long pull. The strong sweet ale steadied him. No one (no not you No One) had ever asked him to tell this story before.  His hands started moving across the strings on their own, as usual he had started something before he had meant to.      

     He looked up at Muritus Del Mur and said,” So you want to know my story?  Very well.”  And he began to sing:

“The Root of Lore lies deep within,

    Shaded from the light of day,

Secrets there in shadows hidden,

    Known only to the Nymph and Fey.”

“The forest is his cradle fair.

    Family? Home?  He has no other.

Root and Tree his only care,

    A Strangle Vine, his Mother.”

“Alseydes born and feral raised,

    No words he has to keep.

The wind and rain and tree he praised

    In languages they speak.”

“Blinded hearts, ears like stones,

    The Others come to kill a tree.

The forest screams, sheds tears, and moans,

    They cannot hear, they do not see.”

“He lures them to his mother’s face.

    Their eyes so full of hate,

They run into her sweet embrace,

    And there they meet their fate.”

“Seeds to seedlings and then to trees,

    Like them his stature grows,

Soon bird and beast and all he sees,

    His power they ere doth know.”

“A raven spoke of a Nymph most fair.

    She dwelt in Raven Hold.

At length he went and climbed the stair,

    To see what he’d been told.”

“Oh Lovely nymph, at sight did win,

    His love, for her gentile grace.

A Knator saw, then followed him,

    Back to his secret place.”

“He called to him the wind and rain,

    Furious power, a tempest blow,

The Knator’s smile his only refrain,

    No fear of him did show.”

“He called to him then bird and beast,

    They came and gathered round.

They chirped at him and bared their teeth,

    Knator’s smile turned then to frown.”

“Enough! He said with lute in hand,

    And then began to play,

A musical spell, a tune most grand,

    It held them all in sway.”

“The great and mighty Knator Lord

    With laughter armed, loud as a horn

He saw the truth, drew not his sword,

    “So like the vine, you are: BlackThorn.”

     The bard stopped then and took another long draught of ale. “That’s not the end of your story?” said Muritas more like a statement than a question. 

     The bard put down his drink and looked again at his patron. “Why am I telling him this?”  He thought to himself, but then said.  “No, it is not.” 

    “The spell of the Knator Lord’s music had caught hold of me; or maybe I just wanted to see NelyaSetesh again.  I don’t really know.  But I followed him back to Raven Hold.  I remained there for many years as he taught me to play, and then to sing with words, and finally to speak like Men.  He told me that he believed that I was the child of a human and an Alseydes: a wood Nymph.  He did not know why I was abandoned, but he said it explained how I was able to speak the languages of the wind, the trees, the birds and beasts.”

    BlackThorn stopped then and when Muritas only waited for him to continue, he did, still not knowing why.  “At first the thought that I was the half child of a human, those I had called the Others, was detestable to me.”      

     At that Muritas‘s eyes narrowed, only slightly, but BlackThorn had caught it.  He was defensive of the humans.  Good, they will soon need him. 

    “In time my master showed me that not all men destroy.  Some even live to protect Loreroot.  He sent me to live and learn from the humans.  There are those, I even call friend.  Although most I meet are obsessed with fighting and training their creatures.  Still they are a good lot.”  BlackThorn took the last gulp of his ale.  Setting the empty pint down he carefully placed his lute back into it’s case. 

     “It’s beautiful, and you play it well.” Said Muritas; a slight smile on his face. 

     “Thank you.  It was the parting gift from my old master; the Knator Commander.”

    “Tell me about this thorny vine, the one you called your Mother?” said Muritas looking straight into BlackThorns eyes.   The bard reached into his belt and pulled out a small pouch.

     “These are her seeds.” He said handing one to Muritas.  “She was my Mother.  She protected me, fed me from her fruit, held me close and covered me with her vines when I slept.  I would not have survived without her.” 

    Muritas turned the shiny black seed back and forth in his hand as he listened to the bard speak.  “They are more than simple strangle vines, They are sentient beings.  They use small black poisonous thorns to subdue their enemies. The poison does not kill, it only causes temporary paralysis so that those who fall into their embrace don’t struggle and thrash about.  That makes it easier to crush them.”  

    “Why did it let you live?”  BlackThorn smiled at Muritas.  “So like a human.”  he thought. He said, “I was never her enemy, she was, is my family, my kith and kin.  Why would she want to hurt me?”   Murfound something humorous in that and laughed out loud. “Of course.”  He said still laughing. 

    “May I keep this?” he asked.  BlackThorn nodded and put the pouch away. 

   “What of you, and NelyaSetesh?”  BlackThorn felt the rush of blood to his face.  He had rather hoped that Muritas would not ask him about her. “We have never met.”  He said looking down at the table.  “But I…”  BlackThorn paused, he was no longer sure of his true feelings and as a bard, he was unable to speak other than the truth to a patron.  Muritas smiled a sympathetic smile and spoke softly, “I understand.” he said, “She is very beautiful.”  BlackThorn smiled.  “Yes, She is.” 

    “Well I must be off,” Said Muritas Del Muras he rose from the table. “Thank you for the song and the story, and for this.”  He said holding up the strangle vine seed. 

     BlackThorn also rose.  He bowed and said, “If I may ever be of service, do not hesitate to call on me.” Mur’s eyes went up slightly at that, only slightly but BlackThorn had seen it.  “I may just do that.”  He smiled as if to a joke only he was aware of, then left.

    Again BlackThorn sat down at his table with his back against a wall.  “Why did I say that?” he thought to himself while shaking his head.  “Oh well.” He said as he ordered yet another ale.

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                                                     Wish List

I wish to earn a gold art medal

I wish to draw a new creature and have it added to the game

I wish to have the avatars in the MD Shop sorted and those of poor quality removed

I wish to have a new MP4 and MP3 under one year of age only alliance created called the Nomads.  a band of gypsies that are able to move their camp (a scene I can draw) from land to land. 

I wish for a GGG Drachorn

I wish to be able to create new Items with the magic of my lute and song.

I wish for a tool to collect fenths with.