Hoofbeats ricocheted off the walls of the tavern as everyone stomped their approval. The last entertainer had told a story of a great battle long ago that had divided a nation thrice and the one warrior who stood between the Kingdoms and drew them back together. Radek had joined in the applause, his face lit with joy as he heard his father's story told by another voice. For that was the true beauty of the bardic arts, stories are retold time and again and shifted and modified and lost and remembered.
He flicked his head, letting his snow-white hair cascade across his neck. The few feathers that naturally adorned his mane lay delicately nestled between the perfectly placed hairs. As he stepped up onto the stage, there were overdramatic sighs from a group of young fillies as they pushed their way to the front of the room, desperate to be closer to him, to breathe in his presence. He flashed them a smile that lit up the musty tavern and one of them nearly fainted.
There is a river beneath our hooves. His voice was low but strong and there was suddenly not another sound in the room. With only a few words he had captivated his audience. There is a river that flows beneath our homes and our gardens. Beneath the streets of our cities and below the trails that lead us through the wilderness. But this river flows not with water but with the Blood of the Gods. And it does not run toward the sea as water does, but toward the mountains and the sky, toward our Gods who call back to them the shattered past that drove them apart.
When he paused for dramatic effect, a heavy breathing could be heard from the corner as the barkeep stopped what he had been doing and listened intently. Radek was not smiling now. His face was somber as was his tone, telling the story - not just with his words - but with his entire being. It had been generations since anyone had heard this story. But Bards exist to keep these stories alive. And while others had forgotten, the Entertainers of the lands never forgot. The story had been passed through his family and through his father's friends to ensure that when Novus was ready to hear it again, the story would be told.
And now the Gods have succeeded. For in the Eluetheria Pains has risen a tree, an unnatural being created not of wood and leaf but of glass and stars. But this tree did not grow, for there are none who can claim to have seen a sapling, but it rose in full form, reaching toward the sky. This tree is a gift from our Gods, a chance to rekindle our lost past and bring together families torn apart in the history of our world. So for those that can, I challenge you - travel to the tree, witness this miracle for yourself and help us heal our world. But take this task up with a heavy heart and not with one of a skeptic. For in these small miracles do we gain the ability to appreciate the larger ones. We must be ready to welcome them home when we are deemed worthy.
Radek dipped his head and flicked his tail, emphasizing the end of his story. He had yet to see the tree himself but had heard of it from another. He had decided that it would be his next stop on his journey, to see the tree for himself. But for now, he could tell the story of its origin and of the river below that had once been on every horse's mind and had now faded into a distant memory. It was his task to bring those memories back.
***STAFF EDIT
@
@
