Those at the base of the Costa Del Sol watchtower would be well illuminated by the massive, sheltered bonfire atop it, but they would have had to strain for any chance to hear the faint notes sent from the tower's top, obscured as they would be by the distance, the crash of waves and the whistling wind adding their rhythms to the night air, as if setting the backbeat for the show of stars in a sky finally clearing from a long rain.
Atop the tower, a Hyuran bard of unusually large stature sat in the parapet, ankles crossed, and playing upon an ornate lute snatches of tunes to the amusement of a broad Roegadyn male and grey-haired Miqo'te woman, the tower lookouts. The uniformed pair offered no comment, most likely in deference to their duties, but the performer caught them glancing back with occasional stifled smiles here and there. The shapely Keeper femme dozing about a yalm away offered no comment but steady and peaceful breathing, and the music apparently was not enough to keep her awake.
So, with an audience of present but unresponsive sort, he played mostly for himself, and for the stunning vista of Costa Del Sol, the glow of its torches and lamplights turning the tall Aetheryte there into a pillar of motes and prismatic flickers. The lute strummed in tune with the wind.
"Within the hot spring did the couple come to dance
Both of them dang'rous as the tip of a lance
Little more than skin and knuckles, offered up to view
Until one fell, exhausted, and the other earned what's due
The Lion and the Wolf, were facing off amongst the splashes
Then roar and howl, they echoed loud, and sprung to matching dashes..."
He paused voice and string. "Lion and Wolf... that deserves better than this ditty. That was too epic a fight for simple doggerel." He closed his eyes, and thought back briefly to the contest of skill he'd witnesses mere bells before, as the Lady Knight, stripped to her skivvies, met fist-to-fist with the aggressive, gold-maned Nuhn.
He sighed. "Too peaceful, up here, for Epics... too lovely a view all around... bugger me that I didn't bring that bottle along. I do hope that lass enjoyed it."
He licked his lips, and started a fresh tune, one with fewer variances in notes, more fit for an easy crowd.
"I've caroused with a punk, a lightweight drunk
Whose legs were rarely stable
And a highland girl, with the bouncy curl
Who could bounce you under the table
And the Lala in the room who could consume
More than any Roe was able
An an Elezen gent with a constant bent
For awaking in a stable
There's not a noblewoman out there who's so wonderfully posh
That she won't become a trollop when appropriately sloshed...
A puissant Paladin might have a thick skin,
But pass along a pint and he'll fall to sin
Summoners, they say, can stick it away
On a crate of cognac every day
There's nothing that a monk or two won't do
When filled with ale of an amber hue
Nobody can splurge like a Thaumaturge, or half as far can spew
In the mornings, their adornings may be purposefully missed...
And wondering how they got bugger-all pissed!"
As the tunes faded, he glanced once at the sleeping femme, and chuckled softly.
Atop the tower, a Hyuran bard of unusually large stature sat in the parapet, ankles crossed, and playing upon an ornate lute snatches of tunes to the amusement of a broad Roegadyn male and grey-haired Miqo'te woman, the tower lookouts. The uniformed pair offered no comment, most likely in deference to their duties, but the performer caught them glancing back with occasional stifled smiles here and there. The shapely Keeper femme dozing about a yalm away offered no comment but steady and peaceful breathing, and the music apparently was not enough to keep her awake.
So, with an audience of present but unresponsive sort, he played mostly for himself, and for the stunning vista of Costa Del Sol, the glow of its torches and lamplights turning the tall Aetheryte there into a pillar of motes and prismatic flickers. The lute strummed in tune with the wind.
"Within the hot spring did the couple come to dance
Both of them dang'rous as the tip of a lance
Little more than skin and knuckles, offered up to view
Until one fell, exhausted, and the other earned what's due
The Lion and the Wolf, were facing off amongst the splashes
Then roar and howl, they echoed loud, and sprung to matching dashes..."
He paused voice and string. "Lion and Wolf... that deserves better than this ditty. That was too epic a fight for simple doggerel." He closed his eyes, and thought back briefly to the contest of skill he'd witnesses mere bells before, as the Lady Knight, stripped to her skivvies, met fist-to-fist with the aggressive, gold-maned Nuhn.
He sighed. "Too peaceful, up here, for Epics... too lovely a view all around... bugger me that I didn't bring that bottle along. I do hope that lass enjoyed it."
He licked his lips, and started a fresh tune, one with fewer variances in notes, more fit for an easy crowd.
"I've caroused with a punk, a lightweight drunk
Whose legs were rarely stable
And a highland girl, with the bouncy curl
Who could bounce you under the table
And the Lala in the room who could consume
More than any Roe was able
An an Elezen gent with a constant bent
For awaking in a stable
There's not a noblewoman out there who's so wonderfully posh
That she won't become a trollop when appropriately sloshed...
A puissant Paladin might have a thick skin,
But pass along a pint and he'll fall to sin
Summoners, they say, can stick it away
On a crate of cognac every day
There's nothing that a monk or two won't do
When filled with ale of an amber hue
Nobody can splurge like a Thaumaturge, or half as far can spew
In the mornings, their adornings may be purposefully missed...
And wondering how they got bugger-all pissed!"
As the tunes faded, he glanced once at the sleeping femme, and chuckled softly.
"But in the laugh there was another voice. A clearer laugh, an ironic laugh. A laugh which laughs because it chooses not to weep."