Echoes of the Bardic Circle

[Dobby]

Hello everyone,

I’m Rosalie, and I’m thrilled to be taking on the role of Bardic Circle’s scribe. My task will be to archive all the stories, poems, and songs that come our way. Whether it's a tale spun from imagination, a heartfelt poem, or a captivating song, I’ll ensure that every piece is carefully documented and preserved for our collective memory. I look forward to capturing the essence of our creative endeavors and sharing them with all of you.

Warm regards,
Rosalie







Story shared by Kelos:

The red dragon has hidden in the abyss of the Chaos. He is hidden to all. The warriors wish to put an end to the red dragon. They search the rifts daily. The red dragon slowly heals from the previous battle, however his strength does not return to him. He lost his elixir that gives him strength. As the day ends the red dragon calls out to the Chaos for help.







Belom reported that a few weeks ago, he introduced an open-ended story project. He began by inscribing the first Codex and then passed it to another participant who read and continued the story before returning it to him. After finishing their continuation, the Codex was passed to another individual, with the process continuing until the task returned to Belom. During his absence, Belom read the twelfth Codex, written by Myridian Sun, and concluded the story with a thirteenth Codex. Belom noted that he has read only three of the thirteen Codices in total, having written the first and the last ones. He expressed that everyone is in for an exciting surprise, as none of them know how the story will unfold.


The contributors to the story below are Belom, Magnilia, Jake Walker, Sadara, Myridian Sun, Amante, Crystalline, Zahra Haqi, and Nugget.

Torches flicked to life in the castles courtyard, casting shadows that danced like dark omens of the eve of the Kingdom's downfall. The wind whispered secrets of betrayal as armored knights gathered, their faces hidden beneath helms of steel. In the highest tower, the Queen watched, her heart heavy with the weight of inevitable doom.

The heavy metal can be heard off in the distance. Was that the Guillotine readied for the heads of the betrayers? Or was it the metal of her rescuer off in the distance? I walk to the sound of the ringing metal to figure out what the fates have in store for me. As I walk up I cant believe the sight that my eyes see.

The ringing booms out of enormous chimes held firmly by trees in every direction, all clanking, whistling, humming and screaming in a thousand living whispers. The whispers could barely be made out except one word...."Coalesce". Of course, I had no idea what that meant so i went to go lean in closer to see if I could hear anything more on what was being said and then suddenly....

She made it clear that I could hear her conversation and kicked me out of the house, telling me it was none of my business if she had a chaos fetish
Homeless, and feeling quite alone, I decided to visit the library and see if anyone might want to go genning with me. There wasn't anyone there, so i went to Harrow Glades to talk to a Shammy about my woes. There was one there who was quite supportive, vocally.

As he was vocalizing with shouls and rar, and the occasional whisper, I came to the conclusion that my woes were not as big as I thought they were, and the poor Shammy had it so much harder. What, with having dreamers to come and hunt him, not looking at him like a living, breathing part of the city around himself. I left that room feeling bad for the Shammy and thought that life seemed to be hard for us all.

The next day I headed to a great teacher and told him of my findings and the thought of what I may be able to do. I felt bad that I only had the power of listening. The old teacher smiled slightly, "You still seek powers, influence, riches, yet your ability to hear and understand those around you gives you an insight into peoples problems. Think on this my daughter." Perplexed, I spent the next few days observing and listening to the woes of dreamers and what my father had to say.

Maybe i can use what I know of the problems of others to get the things that I want... This is what I think I will do. So, the insightful dreamer dreamed on and helped out whenever she could, aiding dreamers in their many problems. The influence of her craft expanded, spreading to other cities. She often had visitors from other lands. Her riches grew and the insightful young girl was happy forevermore.







Amante shared a poem titled "Broken Sanctuary"

Sanctuary kept me safe from harm,
from crashing waves to quiet calm.
2How was I to know my strife,
would come from words masked as a knife.
My heart I thought would beat gently,
but it was a man who broke what was me.







Jake shared the song he sang at his first Bardic:

All hail the city of Thornhaven... we are here to make things simple and even...
Sit right down... and take a listen.... to my song may say!
We come to share with the dream... the greatness of what is out there it seems...
To share this song and sing along to the greatness of what we do!
We look for things to build up on... to share our stories and ensure its not wrong...
To help our fellow dreamers out.. so that they can be strong without a doubt.
and here's to me and you... so....
All hail the city of Thornhaven... we are here to make things simple and even...
We hope you enjoyed this song... and next time we hope... that you will sing along!



Jake closed the circle with a final song:



oh billy.... oh little billy.... a boy who many knew well..... oh billy.... little angry billy.... a story... i will tell... now billy was known by the people he had seen.... most said that boy was just a little bean.... but one day billy came up to hill side.... to take his sled a ride.... and suddenly he found a hole..... oh billy.... little billy.... a boy known so well..... little billy..... fragile billy...... a story fun to tell...... so when billy found this hole in the hill... he thought to go down would be such a thrill he got to the bottom and soon found he was lost.... and soon he knew... this was too much of a cost..... so billy climbed out and finally got outside... took his sled and finished up his ride..... when he got to the bottom he looked at what he found... it was a stick.... and so he showed the town.... billy..... oh sweet billy.... what could this kid have found..... but when billy... oh sweet billy..... lit it and it made a horrible sound! BOOM


9.14.24

[Dobby]

The Moon's Feast, by Magnilia

The moon rose, full and gleaming, devouring the darkness with its silver light. Shadows, once bold, shrank away, melting into the earth like spilled ink.
Each beam cut through the night, fierce and soft, as if the sky had cracked open to let the heavens spill.
Stars whispered faintly, their glow dimmed by the moon’s command, while the vastness of the night bowed to its quiet reign.
It was a feast of light, an ancient ritual where darkness was not destroyed, but consumed - woven into the moon’s luminescence until the world shimmered in its gentle embrace.







Ezhar shared:

Trying too hard to be too good, even when trying to be bad is too good for the bad, but too bad for the good.
Perfection seems sterile.
It is final, no mystery in it, it is the product of an assembly line.
To accomplish the perfect perfection, a little imperfection helps.







Kethra shared:

Mystery, the word itself is in a way just that isn't it? What is a mystery? A riddle, a puzzle, a simple question that we need to seek answers for? There are times we have to act in mystery..I speak not of stealth but in order to push someone to see, an answer needs to not just be given.

Recently, well..not too long ago at least. I began seeing a change in a little girl I know quite well. A bundle full of energy that enjoys bossing me around whenever I visit!
Children always rebel, however this was something more I noticed, an anger. The one I thought would see clearly what was happening however, wasn't noticing a single thing.

There was one day when the little girl was in an argument with one of her playmates, her father intervened after she drew blood from the other child in anger. And yet..he still didn't see. I pulled him aside, "You know your daughter better then anyone, what do you see?" He looked at me and replied "I see someone who is still learning, life is based on choices, you know this."

"You don't notice it do you? You need to look deeper, past the obvious." I said to him.

I got the usual look I'm used to getting "Speak plainly, I tire of the riddled directions." This wasn't my mystery to solve for him. Time went on and when he was with his family he still wouldn't notice the slight changes.

However some answers come before we can fully see the whole picture. The answer for him came an evening a season after that talk. I ramble because another thing many of us don't think about is how a mystery can reach more then just one. That evening I left my study to screams. Olivia's caretaker on the floor, covered in blood, a guard in the hallway with utter horror on his face. A man and a child inside a room torn asunder, fighting.

What he failed to notice is most, possibly not all of us are one two people, our mothers..and our fathers. A father seeing a part of himself in something he loves so dearly, realizing what he knew deep down could be but didn't want it to be so. Now a father who has to guide his own through her own mystery to find answers that I hope she can understand.







The Alchemist, by Rosalie:

In a faraway village known as Lirael, there were rumors of a mysterious man called The Alchemist. It was said that the Alchemist possessed a tome--a grimoire of forbidden knowledge capable of bending reality to one’s will. Many sought this tome, driven by ambition or desperation, but none had returned from their quest.

On a fog-laden night, a woman named Lila, a skilled healer with a penchant for the arcane, found herself drawn to the tale. Her village had fallen ill under a mysterious plague, and she was desperate for a solution. With nothing to lose, Lila ventured into the heart of Lirael, determined to seek the Alchemist.

Guided by the silvery glow of the moon, she navigated her way to a dimly lit apothecary. The scent of herbs and unguents enveloped her as she stepped inside, her heart racing. An elderly man with eyes like storm clouds sat behind a cluttered counter, and she approached him, breathless.

“The Alchemist,” she whispered, “I seek him.”

The man regarded her with an unsettling intensity. “Many seek him, yet few are worthy. What do you hope to gain?”

“Knowledge,” Lila replied, “to save my people.”

With a nod, the old man handed her a small, intricately carved key and a torn map. “You will find him here." he pointed at a spot on the map. "But beware: knowledge comes at a price.”

Gripping the key, Lila followed his directions through the darkened streets until she reached a forgotten door, hidden behind creeping ivy. Heart pounding, she inserted the key. It turned smoothly, and the door creaked open, revealing a realm suspended between dreams and reality.

Inside, the air shimmered like heat waves, and the ground pulsed with a life of its own. Lila stepped through, her senses overwhelmed by colors that should not exist and sounds that felt like whispers from another world.

At the center of this realm stood a figure cloaked in shadows, the Alchemist. “Welcome, seeker,” his voice rolled like distant thunder. “What do you desire?”

Lila steadied herself. “I wish to heal my village. Please teach me your ways.”

The Alchemist regarded her, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “To heal, you must first understand the nature of suffering. What are you willing to sacrifice?”

Without hesitation, Lila replied, “I will give my knowledge, my skills, everything I am.” With a wave of his hand, the Alchemist summoned visions...scenes of pain, loss, and despair. Lila felt each moment as if they were her own: the cries of the sick, the weight of grief, the desperation of helplessness. Each vision seeped into her soul, tearing at her essence, yet in that torment, she began to see the interwoven threads of life and death.

“Knowledge is a double-edged sword,” the Alchemist intoned. “Embrace it, and you may save your village...but be prepared to carry their burdens as your own.”

Lila nodded, tears streaming down her face as she felt this new weight pressing upon her. In that moment, she understood that true healing required empathy, sacrifice, and the acceptance of her own vulnerabilities.

“Very well,” she whispered. “I am ready.” With a gesture, the Alchemist channeled the essence of her pain and knowledge into a radiant light, forming a vial filled with shimmering liquid.

“This will heal your village, but it will also mark you. You will bear their suffering alongside your own.”

Lila took the vial, feeling its warmth pulse against her palm. “I accept.” As she stepped back through the door, the weight of her new reality settled upon her. She returned to her village, the vial clutched tightly in her hands. With each drop she administered, healing flowed through her people, but so too did the echoes of their suffering merge with her own.

Years passed, and Lila became both a revered healer and a shadow of her former self. She carried her village’s burdens, and in quiet moments, she could hear their whispers in her heart. Though she had saved them, the cost was her solitude...a life intertwined with the pain of others.







Jake Walker ended the night with a poem:

thank you for comming to my thing...
where we all share stories and with our minds we sing....
I would like to say we had some fun...
Sharing our works here in the sun...
With that being said i want you all to know.....
That the spirit of creation is with you as you all go.....
I do hope to see you all next time we share...
And my hopes go with you, with all that you bear...
But remember this when you dream this week....
I may give a theme...but its not what we all seek.....
Its your heart that beats inside that chest.....
And the creations you make as your very best!
Jake Walker here saying I love you all!!
And next time lets all come back and have a ball!!!



9.21.24

[Dobby]

Theme: Funny
Date: 9.28.24



Neogi shared:

As a Soulmaster we Trap the critters of the dream..
As I was first learning to trap, someone forgot to let me know that I could chamele while trapping. So I got beat on a lot, had bruises all over me.. until I learned that I did not have to be bruised up to Trap Empie and Bogs. I am now a certified Master Trapper.






Perram shared:

Back in the city of Underlight, I found something incredible. I was trying to follow Thunderman and his party to some experiment he was doing with chaos collectors. I got lost so deep in the planes, invisible with chamele, I found a cave...and in there, I saw it. The very first Shamblix of all: Shamblix 1.

I was in awe, trying to get a closer look to research it, but my chamele and resist fear wore off and it growled, and wouldn't be reasoned with, and well it didn't want me in its territory. My soul collapsed, but I got a good look at its head before it got me. Under that... hood or exoskeleton or whatever

It was wearing a pink ribbon and pigtails. It must have been a girl. With a red squishy clown nose that goes Honk! and a floppy hat with bells on it.






Cammy O shared:

You kin call me Cammy O! I didn't know there was a show! This be my first dream, ain't as dumb as ye seem, hey that kin be my new motto!!






Ezhar shared:

When ya go to kiss your honey, and her nose is cold and runny. You may think its funny, but it'Snot!






NullReaver shared:

What a loving little Agoknight, so fuzzy and so cute
Now he's ready for the party in his little Ago suit
You won't ever see him frowning
He's just smiling all the time
always happy cause you love him
cause he's always on your mind
That cuddly little agoknight, that keeps you warm at night
The one that fights the shammies
And makes everything alright
Warm fuzzies are his favorites, cold pricklies just won't do
When you kiss him he just saves it
Cause someday you'll need one too

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Enchantment

Surrealistic pictures of an inconsistent dream, bounce in perfect rhythm on the light of shining beams.
Far deeper than the chasms of the darkest winter night, images of wonder speak in stoic tones of might
Dancing for the moment on the tightrope strung in life, balance sways from left to right like floating streams of light.
Peering through the looking glass with eyes of stunning green, pure thoughts of frozen laughter burst like empty bodied screams
Ponder not the meaning, for the answers not within, instead repeat the question carried by the howling wind.
For when the heart succumbs to temptations innuendo, it finally will discover it's own powerful crescendo.






Jake Walker shared:

To those who came and listened in...
I want to thank you all for your support once again...
I do hope you had a lot of fun here....
And hope to see you again to share without fear...
For every story that has been told and heard....
I do hope you come again and spread the word....
The word being this on this very day....
To come next week and we will once again play!






Rosalie shared:

Sir Forgetful's Quest

In a kingdom far off, lived Sir Forgetful the Brave,
Who set out one morning, his honor to save.
With armor all shiny and sword by his side,
He galloped on horseback, full of noble pride.

But as he rode forth, he scratched at his head,
For he couldn’t quite recall where the dragon had fled.
“Was it left at the oak, or right by the stream?
Oh, bother! I should have written down my scheme!”

He galloped and galloped, then suddenly found,
He’d lost his own horse, and was stuck on the ground!
“Fear not, loyal steed!” he called to thin air,
Only to spot it munching on grass without care.

With a sigh of relief, he hopped back on the saddle,
Determined to vanquish the beast and to rattle.
But soon he grew hungry, and what did he see?
His lunch in a pouch--his favorite brie!

“Ah, cheese of my heart! I’ve missed you so dear!”
He took a big bite, but the dragon was near!
With crumbs on his armor and cheese in his beard,
He stumbled on forward, but felt quite steered.

At last, he approached where the dragon did dwell,
Only to find it was napping quite well.
“Now what do I do?” he thought with a frown,
Should he wake it up, or just turn around?

But before he could ponder, a sneeze did erupt,
And the dragon awoke, quite confused and abrupt!
“Who dares to disturb my most peaceful of dreams?”
Said the dragon, with eyes that were shooting out beams.

“Oh, dear,” said Sir Forgetful, “I’m here for a fight,
But if you’re busy napping, I can come back tonight!”
The dragon just chuckled, “Oh, knight, you’re so funny,
Let’s have a tea party--it’s far more sunny!”

So they sat and had tea, with crumpets galore,
And Sir Forgetful learned there was much more in store.
For battles are great, but friendship’s the best,
And sometimes a nap can lead to the quest!







Next weeks theme will be Discovery!

[Dobby]

Theme: Discovery
Date: 10.5.24



Magnilia shared: "The Cassimolair Mystery"
*an additional page appears tacked on with the title*



Jake Walker shared: "A Dream So True"

To dream a dream so true and sweet,
To see your friends is such a treat.
To know that your place here is right
Makes you feel like you have seen the light.
I say to you on this very day,
For if you ever get lost and lose your way,
Come find the place that we share story and song,
And I promise you we will never lead you wrong.
For we are here to guide you along the way,
And I promise you everything will be okay.
Please go and find your friends to show them this,
That even in chaos, there is a bit of bliss.
I invite you to the bardic circle to listen in,
And with that being said, let’s all begin!



Sadara shared: "Full-Blooded Witch"

Fear. It lays dormant until it isn’t.
Anger. Resting behind the tongue as if to hide its true form.
God. Forsaken, forgotten. His eye rests upon the soul in judgment.
Blood. Pulsing, pumping, engorging through veins.
Death. Always one step ahead.
Every Dream Now Twilight.
To find one's Holy Grail.
Full-Blood. In my hands, I hold strong.



NullReaver shared: "Death's Sweet Words"

Lost in silence, trapped in a cell,
Growing so impatient, tensions start to swell.
Visions so obscure to the eye inside the mind,
Indirectly pushed to the outer edge of time.
Should have perished in between, ghostly faces still unseen,
A cancer grows from deep within, insatiable cravings greet the sin.
Denial free to roam about, questions reeling turned to doubt.
Searing pain contorts the heart, grasping vainly in the dark.
Blinding flashes spear the sky, rolling thunder, mournful cries.
Muffled voices scarcely heard, whisper softly,
Death's sweet words.



Rosalie shared: "An Ancient Lock"

A rusted key turns in an ancient lock,
Revealing a room draped in silence,
Walls alive with stories whispered,
Dust motes swirling like forgotten dreams.
Beneath the floorboards, echoes linger,
Each creak a question, each shadow a possibility.
In the stillness, a flicker ignites—
Curiosity, a compass guiding us deeper.
The thrill of finding, the spark of chance,
In dusty books or a fleeting glance.
Each moment rich, each breath a song,
In the heart of the unknown, we truly belong.
Outside, the world breathes differently,
Colors sharper, textures richer,
And in the spirit of the mundane,
The extraordinary waits to be named.



Belom shared: "Tip"

Long ago, in a place unknown, there lived a young boy named Tip. Upon his shard there was a small village nestled between olive groves and a sparkling sea. It was this place that Tip called home. It was the only place he had ever known.

Until one fateful day when the elder of his village diagnosed Tip with a fatal illness, giving him mere months to live. Devastated, Tip retreated to a familiar little nook near the port. It was here that he would watch the great ships come and go. Tip would spend hours there wondering what the boats carried and what it would be like to work on one of these ships. But on that day, tucked away inside that unseen nook, Tip discovered a hidden glade.

As he lay amidst wildflowers, he closed his eyes and let his mind soar. He dreamed of a great courtyard that hosted different looking symbols, a different one seeming to hover over each of the strange, mercurial doorways. Curiosity got the better of him, and Tip unknowingly entered into the City of Dreams.

With each passing day, Tip's physical strength waned, but his imagination grew stronger. He spent each waking moment in that secret glade, lost in the fantastical world of his dreams. Dreamers would often find him smiling, eyes closed, almost as if embracing the sun. At first, they saw him as just an enthusiastic dreamer. Later, they loved spending time with him if only to be in the presence of his positive energy.

As their dreams continued, however, Tip seemed to dream a little bit less each time. A dreamer finally asked him what had changed. Tip revealed the truth about his condition. The dreamers were saddened to hear that this had befallen him.

It was not long after that Tip began to realize that the secret glade near the nook by the sea could be accessed anytime and any place, and so Tip returned to his dreams as often as he could. As the appointed time drew near, Tip's new friends from his dreams gathered around him. Each of them regaled a tale of their favorite memories with Tip and how they would always remember him.

And with a gentle smile upon his face, Tip shared his final dream saying, "I have found a place of wonder in my dreams, and I will dwell here forever, free from pain and sorrow."

And just after those last words were uttered, Tip passed into eternity, surrounded by loved ones in the vibrant dreams they shared.

And so, the dreamers built a magnificent shrine where they displayed the Soul Essence of Tip. Even in our dreams today, if we listen closely, we can still hear the whispers of happier times and they seem to mingle with Tip's familiar laughter.

Tip had become a legend, inspiring generations to cherish the boundless power of imagination and the beauty of living in the present.

In the end, Tip's fatal diagnosis became a gift, guiding him to spend his final days in the realm where he was most alive—the infinite expanse of his own dreams.
And that is the story of Tip.



Next weeks theme will be: Fear

[Dobby]

Theme: Fear
Date: 10.19.24



Magnilia shared: "The Whispering Fog"
*an additional page appears tacked on with the title*





Eldryck Venym shared:

I see and hear your voices in my mind. Your looks and glances speak volumes. Memories you think you have yet you hide, and you search my own eyes for words I have yet to speak.

Where has he been? What will he do? When has he been even? Murders happen, and first thoughts come to mind; now the list shortens, perhaps with my appearance. I know nothing of this, for my horror is my own, my dreams newly restless. My new burden I carry.

Every night, I find myself in the same place—a dark forest, a suffocating creeping fog that reaches for me between the trees like eerie fingers. I am a hunter, I feel it, my gleaming chakram at my side. It hums, it purrs, its deadly edge buried into my palm as I grip it.

My target has the form you know as a Horron, a beast that defies reason. But this one seems to reason; I can see intelligence in its eyes. I don’t know now how long ago this hunt began, only that for me it seems to never end. Each night, I track it through the endless woods, moving silently, the air around me feels heavy with anticipation. I know it’s out there, lurking.

Its power is terrifying; it can rain razors from the sky. A gaze alone can freeze one in place, and just being near it washes a wave of fear over me so deep it scrapes against my bones. But these dreams, these particular dreams, I’m not afraid. For I am the hunter, Eldryck Venym.

My chakram is ready to fly, to slice through the night and bury itself in the creature's blackened flesh. Every night, or at least these nights, I get so close I can hear its guttural breathing; I can feel the heat roll off its skin as it approaches me. And then, each time, just as I am about to strike, it slips through my fingers, seemingly oblivious to the danger, and gone before I can even blink. Darkness falls on me like a warm blanket.

A blaze of fire consumes everything, and I can no longer feel the presence of the beast; all returns to normal, leaving nothing. I search again, in vain. Then I wake, as each must.

The next sleep, the next awakening within, the dream shifts. I wake in the same forest, but the air is different, thick with dread. I can feel it watching me, its eyes hidden in the dark, waiting. My pulse quickens, and cold sweat trickles down the back of my neck. My chakram feels useless, and I begin to run, knowing the Horron is close, and this night it’s coming for me.

The trees blur as I sprint through the fog, my heart pounding in my ears. Every instinct in me that I had when I was the hunter is replaced by the absolute fear to flee. But no matter how fast I run, it’s always there—stalking me, hunting me. The sky ignites; fire rains down, the forest is an inferno, and I know it’s only a matter of time.

My legs are weak, my lungs burn, but nothing is worse than the moment I feel it—its eyes. I freeze. My body locks, muscles stiff as stone, and my mind screams in panic. I try to move, to take another step; my arts fail me, and I feel trapped in my own skin. The paralysis is overwhelming, a cage made of fear, and I only feel the Horron drawing closer.

Its breath is hot on my neck, the smell of sulfur and decay filling the air. My body refuses to respond, my heart hammering in my chest as it circles me. I can’t even scream. All I can do is wait. And then, with a lunge, my breath caught in my throat, my eyes widen... but everything goes black.

When I wake, it’s morning. I am drenched in sweat, my chest tight as if I hadn’t drawn a single breath in hours. The fear doesn’t fade with the sunrise, you see. It lingers, clinging to me throughout the day, turning what were once normal days into a fear of the moment I sleep again, or awaken, not knowing a dream from reality anymore. My heart races at the slightest sound; the rush of anyone through the portal causes me to start.

Then I sleep. Which one will I awaken into—the hunter... or the prey? Each night it barely escapes, and the next night the same for me, barely escaping. But always escaping. What happens when I finally catch the Horron... or on the nights I am prey, it finally catches me?

Each time I awaken, I find myself back in the forest, the fog swirling around me. In the distance, I hear the snap of a branch, the rumble of its monstrous breath. Will passion and desire to hunt consume me, or will fear grip me? Each night I tremble, not knowing what hunt begins, and each night... I know not for sure how it finally ends.