The results of Sunday’s contest were a bit delayed due to the clerical work of transcribing the winning entries for your enjoyment here.
First prize was taken away by Cerulana, nicknamed “Queen of the Bards” for good reason! She defended her title with the below song:
<She takes a calming breath, her smile fading to serenity and focus as she begins playing a rolling, repeat of 5 notes on the guitar to a steady rhythm>
<Her voice takes on a high-pitched soprano as she sings, the notes weaving through the melody on certain words> A lone wolf wandered the forest, With his eyes of~ sil~ver blue… He fo~und a young crow playing, In a field by the light of the moon…
“Ma~y I join you, small one, Just~ for a ni~ght or two?”
They played together a while, Til the night ca~me to an~ end… “Crow, you’ve been so pleasant, Please~ be my companion.” The crow declined his offer, But~ would become his friend…
<The strings change the melody slightly, leading to the chorus. The words of the chorus are sung with long notes for the first three words in a haunting, enchanting melody> “See me now, for I am bound to a murder. Leave here now, for soon I must return. Leave me now, I must not go any further; Don’t ask me… for what can never be…”
<The guitar returns to the series of 5 notes on repeat to the steady rhythm as she goes into part 2>
The lone wolf wandered the forest, moo~nlight on his coat~ of~ brown… His friend had eyes like fire, but a gaze as soft as her down. And while he roamed so free~ly, a~ gold ring kept her bound…
He met her there in the clearing, at the base of an old oak~ tree. “I would break your shackle, if~ you would come with me.” She said she’d join him ne~ver, for she should not be free! Ah~
“See me now~, for I am bound by a murder. Leave here now~, for soon I must return. Leave me now~, or they will see me a traitor; Don’t ask me… for what can never be…”
Eh-ye-eh~…
<As she sings the next part, her voice fluctuates to higher notes over the words, and her expression is sad and pleading>
The lone wolf wandered the fo~re~st, til he came to a~ canyon~. “I’ll find her wretched cap~tors~, I’ll find and destroy them. I’ll save her from this dread~ed curse, I’ll end her oppression.”
The young crow tried to warn~ him~, when he said he’d set her~ free. The moonlight shown through sil~ver~ eyes, to shatter that golden ring. “Now your shackle’s bro~ken~, now you can come with me…”
"See here now, for you have summoned the murder. Leave here now, and do not dare return. Leave us now, for we must deal with the traitor. She warned thee… of what can never be.
He cast his light on the murder… to dispel what caused her fear. Her wounds were deep and~ chronic… but would heal as he drew near.
The murder faded to darkness, as his light had set her free… The two then wandered the forest… as was ne-ver thought to… be…
Loshing received a runner-up prize, with this timely story of two feuding villages:
There was a time I was in Pandaria, my mind was filled with seeing every part of my homeland.
The joy I felt seeing my kin all over the continent filled me with such joy that I still contain such feelings to this day. Yet the troubles of life were still there, much to my amazement.
Yes, there was one story the involved a dispute between a two villages in the Valley of Four Winds. The youths seemed to prank each other. Paintball and other junk would fly over the hill separating the two, and nightly raids would occur where they would steal each others farm stock, and then steal them back again.
I must admit, at the end of this, no one knew who owned which animal. I wouldn’t want to handle that paperwork, would you?
Lo-Shing laughs.
When I came, I knew none of this war. When I came to visit, I was greeted with a paintball lobbed at my face. This failed, as I grabbed the approaching ball and threw it right back at them. The youth was shocked to have his own paint in his eyes, but it was enough to scare the rest off, except of the one that was blind.
I lectured the boy, and told him to take him to his home. He pleaded, as he didn’t want his father to know. I responded, “Your father is going to find out either privately, or publicly. It is up to you to choose which.”
Turns out, he was the first son of a famous land owner of the area, owned quite of a bit of the town.
We talked a bit over tea with this and he apologized heavily for his son’s actions. He asked me if I wanted him punished. My response was no, but I did want teach him some basics skills, as it might put discipline in him. He was shocked, as he didn’ want to pay large sums of money for my training.
Now, I need to be clear on something. While there are many places in Pandaria where one can go and train, even for free, there are many places where you can’t. Villages such as these are outside of what a monk or teacher would go to unless they are paid handsomely for their services.
I assured him, I would take no payment from him, perhaps noodles, but not money. I told him I would train him for several months and see how well he can handle himself.
The next morning, the boy, named Bo, was almost eager to work. He had the illusion of being some grand fighter of legend, to which I responded, “Stories are different from reality, my boy. We are not protagonist of our own stories.” He didn’t seem to get it at the time, but such is youth.
A few days came by, and more parents came to me and begged for me to train their children, offering me presents such as homemade dumplings, Tanghulu, Grass Jelly–hmm yes–quite a lot of food.
And how could refuse with such lovely treats as payment?
Soon enough, I was teaching an entire village how to focus their passion and anger through exercise, remembering sets, and understanding fighting stances. They were pretty good students, to be honest.
Then the Red sun village came and asked to teach their students. This gave my current students a few groans, as they didn’t want their neighbors to learn the secrets of marital arts.
I accepted despite the protest, and the Red Sun villagers and Yellow Sun villagers seemed to grow quickly. I even forced a them to spar with their opposing village students as well.
As expected, the animosity caused these spars to be outright brawls. I lectured heavily to them, telling them that if there was no harmony, there would be no learning. More protest came, and I was firm on my decision on this. One more fight, and I would leave for new lands in Pandaria.
The threat forced them to work together, putting their prejudice aside. Friendships formed, but I wanted to make sure I would leave them on a good note.
I announced to my students of a tournament for them, to see how well they have been training under me before I leave. I made sure to have both villages attend, and it almost seemed that both towns used that excuse to turn the tournament into a full blown festival. As expected with my kin.
Bo had a rival named Sho from Yellow Sun. Both of them seemed to grasp the basics of martial arts quickly, to even where they could control their chi to a degree.
The tournament came, and it seemed to almost be lopsided, the first few challenges were done in less than a few minutes. But as expected, both Bo and Sho ended up in the finals.
The bout became one of the most interesting fights, as both seemed to keep on pulling off the same moves at the exact same time. Blackout kicks followed by tiger palm strikes, followed by feints of white tiger punches.
Imagine doing rock, paper, scissors and it was a tie every single time. That was like that. The bout lasted for a good hour before they began to waiver. Their punches sloppy, their pace slower, and finally both did a crescent crane punch to each other, and both fell.
It was a tie, flat out. The villagers from both Red and Yellow sun went in an uproar, but I quickly calmed them down and said that this tie can be broken next year for the next tournament. All of them almost took a second to think about this, as they realized the towns has a new unified tradition being made, and with quite a bit of fun to boot.
Unity sometimes doesn’t always mean acting the same or thinking the same, but leaving those differences on the fighting mat. There is nothing wrong with a bit of controlled fighting to get disagreements out the window…
Lo-Shing finishes his story with a bow.
Lahkin tied with Loshing for the second runner-up prize, with this story of tragic love. He notes the story may be one you have heard before, on account of his having written it several years ago.
The story I tell today is an old night elven legend, that some of you may have heard before. Tonight I have the honor of telling it again.
It starts out familiarly enough. A man is in love with a woman, but the love is forbidden. The woman is too high in rank, and the man too low.
A certain sad ending, you would think, yes?
Perhaps…and perhaps not. This is the tale of Isabel of Eldre’Thalas, and her lover, Sindarion.
Now, as I said before, Isabel was the daughter of a very high-ranking family. Her father himself was an advisor to the Queen.
In the highborne tradition, a husband had been picked out for Isabel and formally engaged a few days after her birth. She had never met the man, and wouldn’t until the wedding, but that was all in the highborne tradition, too.
She was a very pretty girl, even by night elven standards. Her hair was like strands of jade and her eyes were the color of sapphires. It was often said her to-be husband was a very lucky man.
Sindarion, on the other hand, was a lowly steward for the Temple of Elune. Other than his silvery hair, his looks were completely unremarkable, even ugly, for a night elf. He was a loyal follower to his goddess, and it was said he had a way with plants. His garden was particularly beautiful in the spring, where it burst full of daylilies, fireflowers, and morning glories.
One day, as Isabel was attending temple services, she and Sindarion ran into each other in the aisle. Sindarion bowed low and politely apologized as he hurried to pick up the flowers he had clipped to fill the vases on the altar.
Isabel’s father snorted in derision and swept past Sindarion without looking at him. “These dirty-blooded peasants should better watch where they’re going,” he said to Isabel, but Isabel didn’t answer. Sindarion had caught her eye, and all throughout the service they kept shooting coy smiles at each other whenever Isabel’s father was looking the other way.
Later that evening, Isabel found a note on her pillow, signed by Sindarion and asking if he could see her the next day. There was a morning glory pinned to the note as well, and Isabel guessed he had climbed up the flower vine outside her window to get to her room.
And so their great love began. Sindarion would send notes to Isabel every evening, unsigned in case her father read them, but she always knew it was from him, because of the morning glory bloom he would include in every message.
Finally, Isabel turned 210, and the wedding that had been planned since her birth would take place in just two months. This time, Sindarion himself appeared in Isabel’s bedroom.
“Did you get my last message?” he asked. “I did,” Isabel answered hesitantly, even as she pulled him into a hug.
“And what do you think?” he asked after kissing her brow.
“My father would be furious if we were to wed without his permission,” Isabel said softly.
“He doesn’t have to know,” replied Sindarion, then after a pause he continued, “Something’s going on in the city, love. Even the plants speak about it. There is evil growing in the palace…”
“The palace!” exclaimed Isabel. “Oh Sindarion, the palace is the most protected place in the whole city! I should know. My father brings me there on occasion for the balls.”
Sindarion looked worried, and didn’t answer except to say he’d be back the following night.
At breakfast the next morning, Isabel’s father pulled her aside to speak with her. “Your fiancé, Quilithon, wishes to meet you. I know it’s not exactly proper etiquette, with the wedding so close, but he still wishes to see you. Tomorrow.”
That evening, when Isabel told Sindarion what had happened, the priest grew very afraid. “You must not meet him!”
“I can’t refuse. Quilithon is engaged to me,” replied Isabel. “What has you so afraid?”
“I have heard rumors about him—“ but Sindarion had to cut short, as Isabel’s mother knocked on the bedroom door. “They can’t see me here,” he said shortly and climbed out the window.
Isabel’s mother entered, wanting to help Isabel choose which dress she was going to wear on the morrow. It was past midnight by the time Isabel finally chased her away, and Sindarion was nowhere to be found.
There was no chance of meeting Sindarion again before Isabel saw her fiancé, and her stomach churned in nervousness as she marched up the palace steps in her billowing gown, one arm on her father’s, the next morning. Quilithon was already there to meet her, smiling.
His eyes had a strange greenish tint to them, and his hair was long and thick. He wore a robe covering himself to the neck.
Isabel greeted him and he bowed very politely, but before either could speak, Sindarion stepped from the bushes, glaring venomously at Quilithon.
“Sindarion!” Isabel hissed, appalled at the expression on her lover’s face. Sindarion’s eyes were bloodshot and his clothes were torn, as if he had been in a scuffle. Isabel would have thought he’d gone insane, if she didn’t know him better.
Isabel’s father frowned. “And who is this?” he growled, but before anyone could answer, Sindarion pointed at Quilithon.
“You. YOU! Murderer! Fel-drinker!” he exclaimed, and everyone gaped at him in alarm, except Quilithon, who continued to watch Sindarion calmly.
“I?” he said, his voice dripping with derision. He was about to add something else, when Sindarion leapt on him, growling murderously like an animal.
“Sindarion, NO!” yelled Isabel as her father pulled her away. The magical sentries that were always standing guard at the palace coalesced upon the fighting, pulling the two highborne apart before any harm was done.
At least, any physical harm. Quilithon had many connections in the higher courts, and he was not pleased to be accused of being a warlock and then assaulted, not pleased at all.
After the trial, the judge, corrupted by Quilithon’s promises of riches, announced what was to be Sindarion’s punishment…
Execution.
Now, Sindarion was locked in a dungeon deep underground, where he could not see the moon valued so greatly by Elune’s followers. Isabel pleaded with her father to repeal the court sentence with his own political power, and when he refused, to at least be allowed to see Sindarion once again before the date he would be killed. To this her father agreed.
Sindarion was surprisingly calm about things when Isabel climbed down the winding stairways to meet him. He offered her his hand through the bars, which she took and kissed, and then he drew her down beside him to speak with her.
He talked softly enough that the guards couldn’t hear, and when Isabel left the dungeons, her cheeks were marked with tears, but her expression remained determined.
When she reached home, she went up to bed alone, refusing the help of any of their household servants. Her mother and father conversed worriedly downstairs, but came to the conclusion that it was perhaps better to let her be.
The moonlight shown clear and bright that night. Isabel opened her shutters to the evening air, but otherwise there was no movement inside any part of the house.
But on the outside of the house…
As the moonlight struck them, the vines that clung to one side of the building began to spread, around to the other sides, up and over the roof.
The outsides of the house creaked as the vines continued climbing and growing. Soon the whole household was awake, and by then, nothing was visible outside the windows except for the backs of green leaves.
The household gathered in the parlor, shivering and wondering what devilry was being conjured, and by whom. Suddenly one of the maids came running down the stairs, screaming. “Isabel! Isabel is gone!”
Her parents hurried upstairs. To their horror, they found it was true. The inside of Isabel’s room was coated with the vines, and Isabel was nowhere to be seen.
“But where could she have gone? The door is locked, and the window is…”
The window was crammed full of the vines. There was no way anyone could have squeezed through.
“Dear, come look at this,” said Isabel’s mother suddenly. The father and the maid ran over to see what she was pointing at.
The vines were bursting into bloom before their eyes, even as they seemed to be retreating, back out the window. Two of the vines in particular were in full summertime riot, one with flowers the color of jade, and the other with flowers silver as moonlight.
“Do you think–?” asked the father.
“I don’t know,” answered the mother uncertainly.
And then—“Elune protects her own,” whispered the maid.
