She sits upon the floor of the house in the middle of the red pentagram her sister the medium drew on the floor. She still wears the leather that she was wearing hours earlier, it is encrusted with sweat and chafes her skin raw. Her hands are blistered from the abuse they have taken. Will she ever be able to play again, just what is she becoming. Tears fall upon the floor. Now what, she thinks. Throughout her life, no matter what other skills she took on, she was always a bard first. But her vision had blurred recently and she found that she could no longer stay out of harms way. She had become afraid.

Glancing to the side of the room she spies the offending weapon. A simple dagger, nothing more. Could be found on any table or on any man's side. But to her, it could be a snake, glaring coldly at her from across the room. It made her ashamed.

But there, somewhere deep inside, was a seed of pride. She had done well this eve. She had gained much skill not just with the dagger and shield, but with her old rusty healing skill. Four straight hours they had fought and her skill had been sufficient that not only had no one died but the fighting had only paused two handfulls of times. She lifts her head a little higher.

And yet, here she sits in the middle of the floor questioning her very need to survive. Yes, she could follow her long lost sister Shadow, who finding she no longer had a place in the land of Sosaria had simply turned her back and walked away one day never to be heard from again. But damnit, that was not her way! She still had fight and fight she would. She gets to her feet.

She picks up her dagger and with a quick glance around the room opens the door. She steps out into a new day and moving off at a quick pace, hastens towards the realms of the fallen.

-Minuette, Bard of Pain

Flint Fireforge
Where Has All the Joy Gone?
Minuette Wanders