The Bard

Half Drow Bard


My existence is the result of a young bar maid being raped by a drunken Drow from a traveling merchant’s caravan. Out of shame I was kept, out of fear I was hidden away. I lived, beaten and afraid, in the cellar of a small home. At times I would be allowed into the yard, always chained so as not to escape, and always alone.

I had nothing or no one to interact with, only my mind, and after a time, a small simple flute I made from a leftover branch that was once used to beat me. I have no way of telling how many years I spent in that cellar. But I do recall seeing the years pass in the face of the woman who kept me, her hair turned grey and her skin grew deep wrinkles. Then one day the sounds above me stopped, and food as rare as it was no longer came. As the silent days passed and my hunger grew, so did my bravery. With great fear and hesitation I managed to break through the cellar door, this is when I discovered the old woman had passed in her sleep. I was free to leave, but still alone. Out of indecision and fear, I stayed till the food ran out and I was forced to leave.

I followed a nearby road to a decent sized town not far from the home. It was there that I learned to live on the streets. The people of the town just took me for one of the local homeless youths and payed me no mind. I would earn a coin now and again by playing my flute for the crowds. Life for me was at its peak, I could come and go as I pleased, and food was abundant either by purchase or theft if need be. The latter part would be my down fall. As the many years passed my Drow features began to become more prevalent. The towns’ folk became more mindful of my presence, fearful that I was evil like the Drow. This combined with my street life activities put a level of fear into the population, so much so that I was arrested. Again unwanted, I was shut away to be forgotten in the bowls of the prison.

While alone in my cell I did have one thing to keep my mind at ease, it was music. I would often hum a tune, or even try to sing. This of course drew attention to me, but I was lucky, and a guard with an ear for music befriend. One day he gave me an old flute to play while he was on watch. I would be allowed to play, softly, while the other guards were not around. They would harass and beat me if they heard my music, they thought I was having too much fun and would have none of that. The years passed, the guards grew older and I settled into life in a cage. The food was cold, often rotten, but it did come semi-regularly. Then one day my guard friend offered me a way out of my cell. It seems that he was willing to make a deal with a local inn keeper who was in need of an entertainer. My guard smuggled me out in the dead of night, and turned me over to the inn keeper. I was unsure of this arrangement and was wise to be so. For it turned out that what I thought was freedom was instead another form of bondage, I was sold as a slave, in chains, to the inn keeper.

The Bard

ThePlanesAreThinning edgar_schmidt davcru66