Page 156 of I Ran Away to Evil 2
Brownie waved at Frida as she slowly walked toward them, hands clasped in front of her. The fae woman moved with an unnatural grace. Her Dexterity must have been even above thirty, or maybe she had a title trait that made her presence so subtly pronounced.
“Ross.” Frida smiled. “My friend, do not tease our leader overmuch. Would you not have jumped at the opportunity to travel with Minstrel Bronwynn?” Frida returned Brownie’s greeting with a small bow. The vines dangling from her antlers swayed gently, and her robes barely moved out of place. “How do you two fare?”
Before Brownie could speak her pleasantries to the fae, Ross pointed a tiny finger at Rufus. “He’s positively glowing. I think they’re doing fine.”
Her beastman smiled a very pleased-with-himself smile, his furless ears only a little pink with embarrassment. He offered Ross his hand, and the pixie hopped onto his palm. “You’re right, Ross; we’re doing wonderfully.”
“It’s true,” Brownie agreed.
Rufus moved the pixie to his right shoulder, and Ross stepped off, taking a seat near Rufus’s ear.
Frida took the free seat beside Rufus, and the bartender appeared like magic. He might have appearedwithmagic, going by the stupefied look on his face and his hands in the position to dry a plate with no plate to be seen.
“One glass of elven myst dewdrop for my friend here”—she waved at Ross—“and I’ll have the Carol’s mead.”
The bartender blinked a few times then cowered before the elder fae, running to do her bidding.
Brownie resisted the urge to chastise the woman for manipulating the troll without his permission. On one hand, she was a fan who would be more likely to listen to Brownie’s advice … On the other, she was an all-powerful fae elder who could probably separate Peldeep from the continent and set it adrift on the ocean.
There was something to be said for the small number of creatures over level eighty on the continent who walked around like they were ordinary citizens.
There were more who filed into the tavern, and Ol’ Malley called Brownie away to her evening’s performance.
“Fine friends and good gentles.” The tall tigerkin stepped onto the stage as the room filled with more and more people. He smiled, his sharp white teeth flashing. “I would like you all to welcome the one, the only, Minstrel Bronwynn Lyriel!”
Brownie walked onstage to cheers, the lights dimming a bit, though the magical light above the stage remained bright. Three waitresses waited off to the side of the bar: Flow, Faun, and Flora. They would descend about halfway through Brownie’s first song, delivering drinks to tables and then coming around again to take food orders. They had a nice stew, fried potato sticks, a pasta salad, or rice bowls with flying pork cutlets.
Bard
The joy of a bard is in the audience.Bardallows you to target an audience equal to your Level 31 x Charisma 21 = 651. Targets will be able to hear you at your control and will feel the full effects of any Charisma-based abilities unimpeded by distance. When performing for an audience of max capacity, gain additional experience. Unless defended against, automatic success when buffing a member of your party with a level of equal to or lower value.
Her titles let her absolutely slay on the stage. The ability to target her audience and control her own sound were the two she concentrated on now.
Minstrel
What sets aMinstrelapart is their ability to control their sound.
Unlocked:Reverb,Drone,Repeat. Unlocked abilities stack.
Reverb
Creates an echoing wave of sound that trails off.
Drone
Creates a lingering, steady sound that remains constant.
Repeat
Creates a mimic of a select length of sound that can be replayed.
She chose [Reverb] and raised her hand to the sky. It came down strumming a wave of echoing chords off her lyre harp. The room hushed in an instant as everyone drew in a breath.
Then her hands played, and she let her repeat build each section so that her chords were playing behind her as she then plucked the melody to her chosen opening song. She chose this one because it was Rufus’s favorite: “Balthorn Rose.”
How like the rose to wither,
How like the petals to fall,
