RPC has moved! These pages have been kept for historical purposes

Jancis · **05-30-2015, 07:49 PM**

"Master Telluride surely you will make the Navigator's smile even brighter with your song."

Nathan Telluride comes up and greets the gathering, "Good day, alll, and welcome! We're going to begin with a duet that gives honor to both Llymlaen and Limsa Lominsa herself!"

"This ballad commemorates a story told by Limsan sailors, and how Pharos Polaris came to be lit each night as it is!"
Nathan readies his lute, and begins a heavy, rollicking tune, looking up to Lottie as he begins the melody...

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â™ª While legends abound about old Limsa town, there is one that maintains a long mystery, when the Twelve lent their power for one shining hour to a woman lost almost to history. â™ª

Lottie Forsaidh's voice joins effortlessly, lifting in alto as the words fall from her lips as a small staff is held lightly in her left palm.

â™ª She sailed the great mains on the "Gift of Llymlaen," when the fish-backs were stalkin' the channels. 'Twas a ship of the line, high-masted and fine, and its tale is a page for the annals. â™ª

â™ª Dressed all in grey did she spend every day, this weather-witch of the Rain People, with a weather-vane staff and melodious laugh, and a hat pointed sharp as a steeple. â™ª

â™ª The ship was inbound back to old Limsa town, with a cargo of hope and provisions, when a gale started risin' upon the horizon, like a prophecy come into vision. â™ª
â™ª The white on the waves spoke of watery graves when a breaker splashed over the railing. The witch felt the dread as an ache in her head and a pang feared by all who go sailing.â™ª
â™ª A long silhouette calling out for blood debt sprang into her mind's eye from the aether. The Sahagin's pride, on the waves it did ride toward the "Gift of Llymlaen" to defeat her. â™ª

â™ª The crew was aghast as the winds strained the mast, and the waves rose like walls to capsize them. Up came the scaled head, and its eldritch voice said, "Give your lives up to me if you prize them!" â™ª
â™ª The captain kneeled down, and by temper was bound,and the terror gripped each sailor's brain. But the woman in gray, stepped forward to say, "Begone, In the name of Llymlaen!" â™ª
â™ª She lifted her hands, to rebuff the demands of the horrible maritime demon. The witch gave a wail when Leviathan's tail swept the Captain into the brine, screamin'. â™ª

Lottie's tone lowers to reveal the helplessness to each word that flows from her lips, brows knitted with distress.

â™ª With tears in their eyes, the crew readied to die and thought of those to whom they were nearest. "With a primal at hand, why do the Twelve abandon their people, when need is its clearest?" â™ª

â™ª The witch's eyes shut; like a knife to the gut were the words that her crew-mates were crying. But they opened up wide, and she drew from inside one last hope to keep them all from dying. â™ª

Lottie clapped her staff to the deck, and called up to her beck aether born up of grim desperation. In a voice not her own, was her challenge thus thrown: "Leviathan, fall to damnation!" â™ª
â™ª As the serpent attacked, the sky tore with a crack that Leviathan felt with a loathing. O'er the grey lady's form, rose aglow in the storm a woman in fisherfolk's clothing, â™ª

â™ª Who aloft in the gloom raised a mighty harpoon, casting sparks that brought fire from rain, and broke the wyrm's dread with a blow to its head and a shout: "Heed the Gift of Llymlaen!" â™ª

â™ª The beast fell to thrashing, and its tail ceased its lashing and sunk, as the waves were recedin'. The crew gave a cheer, and abandoned their fear for Leviathan was soundly beaten. â™ª

â™ª The spell faded away, and the woman in grey collapsed to the deck with a shudder; the crew gathered 'round, but her heart made no sound, and of breath, she would ne'er take another. â™ª
â™ª Songs are still sung, and the bells are still rung, in the spires of old Limsa town, for the woman in grey, and her spirit, they say, in Pharos Polaris are found.
â™ª

â™ª As the world turns, you may still hear concerns that Twelve give us naught but disdain, but at each placid dawn, do the sailors dream on and remember the "Gift of Llymlaen." â™ª

"Thank you all, and enjoy the rest of our event!" Nathan called out as the tune faded out into the sea beyond.
The crowd gave an ovation, applauding the couple. Lottie's smile, small and embarrassed, quickly ducked her head with another silent bow.

Celebration of The Navigator

RPC has moved! These pages have been kept for historical purposes