Bard Wandersong Novels & Stories

She’s really happy to be here with me. After feeding the ducks, we walked along the riverbank. None of us spoke but the atmosphere around us wasn’t awkward either. While walking, she saw a rose filled with Tsubakis. She picked one up and put it on her ear. “How do I look?” She asked. Breathtaking. I didn’t notice that I was staring. I quickly cleared my throat.

I was feeling cold even though the it was really hot and I couldn't stop the feeling that someone else was in the room with me. I released sharp shaky breaths as I reached for my airpords and I resumed my music. It was Save me Slowly by Sodaq. I slowed my breaths as I tried to follow the lyrics. And as I walked closer to the edge of the earth. I need you to save me slowly. Eventually, I drifted off to a deep but not sound sleep. Because it was full of nightmares. Of things I'd rather forget. *********** It was hot. Like really hot.

These were two of the most powerful mages in the entire guild anyone would want to learn from this fight. Melody had been looking forward to this for a long time. She couldn't contain her excitement any longer. She tapped the energy core on the right armrest and the harp began playing a soothing song that sounded like a lullaby. The sound waves from the lullaby filled out the area. They weren't for attacking but to track Lisa's movements. She tapped the right armrest, and another song began playing that blended into the lullaby. This one released sound waves that acted like a grenade that would release and explosive shock waves every few seconds.

Opened a thread I had ignored for months. [The Pack Healer says my voice unseals in about a week. I accept your offer. I'll sign as your Pack Songweaver. Under the name W.]

However, while the pack made preparations to head in for the night or to spend the night guarding their land, Estrid was going against the flow. In her arms was a little girl no more than one years old, her body bundled up in furs so the cold couldn’t nip at her delicate fingers and toes. No one paid the Luna and her daughter any mind except perhaps to smile fondly as the dark haired spellcaster and her blonde-haired babe stolled towards the edge of the treeline. Two warriors followed but hung back a respectable distance to provide the pair as much privacy as was safely available. Estrid didn’t mind though as she came to a stop not too far away from the first line of trees, blue eyes bright

The voice that bends emotion, weaving itself into the hearts of those who listen. Legends say the mate of a Windsong is bound deeper than fate itself. When two sing together—Windsong and fated—they create a harmony that forges a bond unbreakable, a thread of magic that ties them not only for this lifetime, but through every life that follows.

Dealing with someone like me was likely as simple to him as one plus one equals two. So it was better to treat him the way I always had: purely, simply, as an idol. Even ambiguity was not allowed. Thinking this, I quickly finished crafting the wand. Looking at the staff soaked in the spring water, the enormous Tear of the Moon Goddess set upon a snow-white diamond mount, I felt that this must be the most valuable wand in all the Nine Worlds today. Perhaps I would never again have the chance in my lifetime to work with materials this fine. After wiping the wand gently with a soft cloth, I stood up and turned around—only to find that Lan had already fallen asleep.

With a wink she walked to the kitchen. Boro turned back to face the lively common room, allowing his senses to be overwhelmed. The colorful bard he had seen his first visit was here tonight, and from the looks, and sounds, he was in great spirits tonight. He sang deeply, all while plucking the stings of his hand harp. The only difference was that tonight he had a young woman with him.

“I like that you don’t scream. The others scream. You talk.” Good. Talk we can do. The mountains rise. Charred. Redfang territory. Burned twenty years ago. Still dead. Smoke moves at the peak. Not wildfire. Hair. A girl stands there. Thirteen. Tall. Thin. Hair like flame. Moving without wind. Around her, the ground burns. Black glass. Hundreds of wolves. Not black. Red. Burned. Scarred. Silversong. She sees us. Raises a hand. The mountain catches fire.

I was shortly followed after the girl with an A line Bob who offered me a very bright smile as she stood behind me. Sir stood in front of me. He was shirtless and was wearing a cape which was in black color and it flowed to the ground, followed by black trousers. His dark brown blonde hair were sleeked back and not even one strand of the hair was out of place. He wore two golden bracelets. He seemed to be in his mid thirties. "You can call me Lord Higgins, Diamonds!" He said but practically he was looking at me. Seems like he saw me staring at him for a little too long. Great job Cressida!