• Solo • [Cally’s] Scalvtown Outro [Job Thread]

[Pash Raj'oriq]

Vhalar 99, 717

Music Inspiration

outro (ˈaʊtrəʊ)
npl -tros
(Music, other) music informal an instrumental passage that concludes a piece of music

“What do you mean you’re leavin’?” Trudi held the pitcher of water in both hands, her normally warm and flirtatious expression replaced by a confused one, for the tall Biqaj making quiet conversation with the red-head while tuning his lute in muted tones had already been gone more than a handful of trials in Vhalar. Desnind, he’d said. And the Immortal’s Tongue. Where else was there to go?

“Aye, ‘s time t’ get back on th’ sea an’ travel.” Pash admitted somewhat wistfully, not expecting the woman to entirely understand. The masterwork lute wasn't his old grandfather's lute, wasn't the lute Zanik had held and played here in the restaurant. It felt different, though it'd been several ten-trials of him getting used to it, it just wasn't the same, “Kali an’ I ‘re—”

“No! So soon?” Trudi grinned wickedly, raising one hand to her mouth in mock surprise with a particular tilt of her hips that was as provocative as it was simple, “Seems a bit quick, y’ know—”

“Nah. No’ that.” The seafaring musician dismissed her with a chuckle, but his words were neither too quick nor at all ashamed at the suggestion. A few seasons ago, such a comment about his relationship with the dark-haired Sev’ryn would have perhaps elicited a more uncomfortable response, but the confidence in the hushed baritone of his voice was enough to make Trudi blink. His grin may have even rivaled hers in mischief, emerald eyes bright and far from annoyed by the playful waitress’ assumptions. He did enjoy keeping up with her teasing, and there was much about Cally’s he would miss, if not everything, herself included, “There’s places t’ go, Kali’s familiar t’ find, an’ I feel like it’s time t’ visit home in Ne’haer. We don’ want t’ be gone from Scalvoris forever, mind y’, but that don’ mean I know when we’ll be back.”

“Oh.” The woman’s expression softened a little, the hint of a non-flirtatious emotion or two flickering over her face before she leaned just so to set his water pitcher down on the little table next to his comfortable, familiar chair next to the window, making sure to emphasize everything he’d be missing once he was gone, “Well, play somethin’ sweet for me then, just for us, Pash.” She may have kissed him on the cheek then, but she didn’t. She winked instead and left him to finish getting ready for the evening with a laugh and a brazen sway to her hips.

The tall Biqaj laughed after her, pausing to pour himself a cup of water and let his tide pool gaze wash over the restaurant that was just beginning to open its doors and let the first few customers in for the evening. It was already nearly dark outside, sunset coming earlier and earlier as Zi’da approached. A fire crackled against the chill that hung in the air outside, a fluttering of snow falling from the thick clouds that felt as though they wanted to promise a real snow storm would come sooner rather than later. Tomorrow was U'frek's Trial, and Pash was excited to celebrate, eager even given he’d met the Immortal Himself last season in a dream and that he was about to set sail again into His waters in another few ten-trials or less.

Ledger

Masterwork lute (not the same, sigh) -160gn ... I will put this in my ledger after the thread in Desnind is finished.

[Pash Raj'oriq]

That said, the seafaring musician had to admit that he would miss Scalvoris almost as much as he missed home. So many things about the Island had been, well, life-changing. Settling into his chair and strumming a few warm, opening chords, he sat and reflected over the past few seasons, letting his thoughts wander with his fingers as they strummed the courses.

The cool notes of the Rebirth Cycle were first—a quiet, building tune that flowed past the darkness of sailing through Cylus to the welcome light of Ashan. Pash’s thoughts took him on a walk through Scalvoris Town for the first time, from the docks up over cobbled, unfamiliar streets, his rhythm curious and his melody one that stirred questions in the hearts of listeners to which only a walk could truly answer. Notes gentle and refreshing like the fountain outside the window he sat by, the fountain of the Central Square drifted through Cally’s, the tall Biqaj remembering his first time spent playing there early one morning that turned into a Tunawa dance. It was also the first day he met Kali’rial, the serious Sevir his very first audience, and while he’d spent her silver nel, he had trouble for trials getting the hint of her smile he managed to tease from her lovely face from his mind even then.

The light, airy notes of Ashan became more complex, tempo building in a way that was perhaps unusual for when he played background music here at the restaurant, but Pash kept his volume down skillfully even when he did not make any attempt to control the fun and passion of his memories of the World’s End Festival. Though the moment was brief, it was powerful enough to catch the attention of a patron or two, one looking up from their menu to watch the salty bard strum his way through an improvisational handful of bits that may have felt both like a celebration and a wordless innuendo while the other was content to smile wistfully over the rim of their glass of Moseke’s Harvest wine.

Pash’s mind sailed through tornadoes and clean up, through the slow, welcome warming of the season, through meeting Faith and coming to work at Cally’s in the first place. His music shifted from cool and simple, gradually becoming warmer, stronger, and more complex while he played through the rest of Ashan and began to enter the Hot Cycle of his memories.

Ymiden came first, of course, and translating his experiences in that season into music was a strange mixture of a welcome challenge and an uncomfortable difficulty. From the first trial of the season, meeting Kali’rial again after trials of her avoiding him in the moonlight by the fountain of Scalvoris Central Square, Ymiden had been a season of ups and downs, of difficulty and beauty. How she’d been so quick to be angry, and yet so quick to forgive, the tall Biqaj smiling though his eyes were closed, his quiet tune heated like the fire that crackled behind him and yet still quiet enough to feel appropriate in the background. The restaurant was beginning to get busy, snow falling heavier now on the cobblestones outside, into the fountain in the Square.

His fingers moved over the courses, strumming a tune that was difficult to follow, should anyone in the room attempt to focus on his playing, and even more difficult to predict. The salty bard shifted through his memories of the Immortal’s Tongue, of the Jungle, and the conflict translated itself into his tempo, twisting into a very punctuated staccato rhythm that carried on for several bits, though the song that flowed from one thought to the next wasn’t entirely disturbing or sad, Pash’s ability to look back on all that had happened in Ymiden through a new lens turning his melody into something almost bittersweet but also hopeful.

The difficult tune became flowing and passionate again as the seafaring musician thought first of his confessions of feelings for Kali’rial and the realization that her heart mirrored his own, and Pash was perhaps unable to help himself from allowing his feelings from flowing into his music, love filling the room with a warmth that was perhaps even more tangible than the glow from the fire itself. The emotions that danced with his notes brought flushed cheeks and wistful smiles to those who listened, who felt, and as he played of the night that Zanik himself sat at that table over there and enjoyed every bite of his dinner from this restaurant, lagoon blue eyes opened to travel the distance from said table to his own little corner of Cally’s.

[Pash Raj'oriq]

Musical Inspiration

Can’t have enough. You really can’t.

Here, next to the window, in the chair Pash allowed himself a lingering glance at, the smile on his own sea-weathered face broad and thankful, the Immortal of Music had played his lute—the shattered pieces of memory that he'd kept, that he'd brought all the way back from Desnind and couldn't bring himself to get rid of—and blessed him, given the salty bard the gift of His favor.

A diner at a table closest to him sighed, lowering their fork and clearly lost in the music the tall Biqaj was playing, Pash perhaps forgetting himself as he let all of his heart travel through his calloused fingers as they strummed strings and moved with masterful precision over the frets, forgetting just how he’d grown in his ability to project his feelings through his playing just as Zanik had showed him was possible two seasons ago. It took a moment of focus, shifting in his seat and closing his eyes again, to reign in his feelings, to return to playing just music and not just playing his entire heart.

The rest of Ymiden unfolded in his mind, first with new faces like Mero and then with the chill and danger of the mountain rescue making again for a complicated sort of experience to translate into song, but one Pash accomplished with the same sense of hopefulness, lute tucked up against the curved scar along his ribs that would forever remind him of the undead snow beast and his mad master. The cold, broken rhythm of that memory grew warmer and warmer as it drew to a close, the end of Ymiden becoming the heat of Saun while he continued to play his memories of his time on Scalvoris Island for an audience that perhaps would never know the true extent of his adventures except through these moments in sound.

The hottest season’s song would have changed the temperature of the room had Pash been able to do so, his notes resonating with the heat of the season and yet instead of their tones being oppressive like the suns, they were reflective, meditative, inviting. His fingers moved more languidly over the courses, strings plucked in a way that tugged at the souls of those who dined and chatted, patrons of Cally’s unable to help themselves in taking a moment to reflect and to ask questions of their dining companions. The seafaring musician’s rhythm was slow but not without a few bits of action, of excitement, of revelation to break it up into distinct sections, his thoughts flowing through the relaxed beginning of the season with a nostalgic reflection on home, the hints of Ne’Haerian folk tunes drifting into his play style that were perhaps not recognized by many, if anyone, in the restaurant as he allowed himself a few bits of selfish, homesick indulgence in his quiet corner.

Chewing the inside of his cheek, Pash returned his focus to his journey through the seasons, through time spent on the Island, even if he was aware not all of his audience would understand so much as experience his auditory journey. They didn’t need to, really, so well-played and connected were his thoughts to his music that the songs were enjoyable on their own merits, fitting background music almost in spite of the depths of the meaning behind every well-played note.

Saun was not without its danger, the storms of the season filling the room with a robust sound, one that may have caused a young woman to pause in her meal, to glance across the room and wonder why her heart raced the way it did as if she was caught up in the thunder and the wind as he and Kali’rial and Faith had been all those trials ago. But the season wound slowly into a weighty, complicated hopefulness that carried with it distinct undertones of love and gratitude, of longing and adventure, of the sea and travel that called once again not only to his own Biqaj being, but to the dark-haired Sev’ryn he cared very much about.

The suns set on the last day of Saun in his mind's eye and yet Pash was far from finished playing, though he chose to keep the stronger, fresher, more difficult feelings of sorrow and pain that had marked the first quarter of Vhalar from the hearts of the patrons. Instead, he drifted away into the more hopeful, lighter melody he felt ran through his silver veins, longing to look forward in the evening that was still young as the restaurant was now bustling with diners coming and going, Trudi and the servers taking orders and bringing meals, pouring wine and offering suggestions.

His music filled the empty spaces in conversation, crept into the curious thoughts of those who waited, and curled into the hearts of everyone coming and going, lingering notes of light and strong rhythms of hope that seemed to define the seafaring musician’s existence and purpose, a signature sound that had become resonatingly clear over the past several seasons, forged in the heat of passion, carved by the claws of struggle, changed by the guidance of adventure, and made brightest of all by the wonders of friendship.

Off Topic

Thank you for wonderful first experiences here in Standing Trials by inviting me to Scalvoris. Every season has been amazing, every challenge difficult and character-building in sometimes the most hilarious of ways, every monster appropriately scary, and every emotion heartfelt. May the currents of the Orm’del Sea bring Pash back someday a stronger, better Biqaj to take on the secrets yet undiscovered, the whispers heard but not followed, the monsters yet undefeated, and the treasures not found. Much love to Pegasus, of course, but also Ent and all the players who have made the past three seasons in Scalvoris pretty dang awesome. Hold down the fort, my friends, and until we meet again!

[Pegasus]

Pash

Overview

What a fabulous end to a stint in Scalvoris! It's been great fun running modded stuff with you as a prophet and writing with you as a player. Cally's is going to miss Pash, I'm sure! Beautiful writing, it's been a pleasure watching the pc develop over his time here and I look forward to reading more of your adventures! Enjoy the rewards!

Points

XP: 10

Fame: +10

Loot

Nothing tangible.

Knowledge

Lute: Improvising memory as song
Lute: Difficult emotions expressed with hope
Meditation: Exploring memories through music
Meditation: Processing difficult emotions with music
Storytelling: Telling a story without words