#flamesinger

(art by Naiden Romanov on Artstation)

 The motion and light of a flame are fascinating to watch, so it only makes sense that some bards and performers seek to utilize or implement it into their performances.

A long time ago we covered the Flame Dancer archetype for bards here on the blog, but now we look into another fire-themed bard, this one focused on emulating the crackle and sway of flame in their voices, rather than their bodies.

This goes beyond mere metaphor, though, as these mystical musicians utilize their music to channel flame as well. It’s possible that the secrets of this fiery power was originally a creation of either the efreeti genies or a mortal nation with a lot of contact with such beings.

Regardless of the origins of the technique, these bardic pyromancers add the flicker of flame to their performances to enhance them visually or unleash fiery devastation upon their foes.

 It should come as no surprise that these bards learn the fire music technique, letting them infuse their damaging spells with fire to harm foes, and their summons to give them a minor fiery alignment. What’s more, they gain summoning spells automatically as part of their training.

With a special performance, they can also infuse fire into the weapons of allies or enhance already present flame, giving them an edge in combat.

Emulating the speed of spreading flame, flamesingers are also supernaturally fast, zipping about the battlefield.

Interested in taking the fire music feat as a bard, but kicking it up a notch? This archetype may appeal to you. Bolstering the weapons of allies, as well as your spells and summons with fire damage can be useful for damage type coverage, but remember that fire damage is the most common, and commonly resisted damage types in the game. If that doesn’t bother you, I recommend a mixed close combat and support bard, one that buffs nearby allies while also being unafraid to wade into combat themselves.

 I’d recommend doing research into middle eastern musical styles if you’re interested in this archetype. It could give you some ideas of how their music sounds. Of course, you could always defy those expectations as well.

  On the first full moon of summer, the city of Sheeru Taj holds the annual Fire Night celebration, where strong drink is shared alongside fiery performances both metaphorical and literal all night long. There, you can witness musicians blending magical flame into their songs, making the hot night all the more sweltering.

 Despite being a mere mortal, Leeu is determined to master the art of the fire song, joining the ifrit-dominated bardic college to master the art. Though many ridicule her, others are very interested in the potential she offers.

Starter Call + @lizmisfitmuses

Cerridwyn was putting the finishing touches on a miniature glass horse when the shop bell rang unusually loudly, an almost frantic sound that usually accompanied someone slamming the door open. She looked up from her work just in time to see a small, cloaked figure duck between two of the shelves, frost crackling across the ground in their wake. Carefully, she set down the horse and slipped between the shelves after the figure.

Shadows of the Flame

song: i cant breathe - bea miller 

Helion, Thesan, and Feyre have been working together for months now, trying to see if they can break Vassa’s curse. Vassa still goes back to the dark-lord, to the lake, but Feyre has offered to take her people into Velaris. 

Vassa comes every night with new hope. Just before the sun sinks below the horizon, if you have a good eye, you can see a firebird flying through the skies. And just before dawn comes again, the firebird flies away. Everyone knows what this means - Queen Vassa’s curse has not yet been broken. 

But she has become a signal of hope amongst the people of Prythian - High Fae, lesser fae, faeries, humans, all of the above. They will look to the sky and see if they can spot the firebird, who has undying hope. 

Every time Vassa arrives at Prythian, she likes to go to the Day Court. She says she can almost feel the sun on her face, even in the dead of night. When she arrives, Azriel is always there. The first time, Feyre sent him out to retrieve Vassa, since they had no idea where she would land. 

Azriel finds her mid-shift (I’m taking this straight out of the “werewolfing for dummies” book). He can hear her bones cracking, wings turning into arms, talons into toes, beak into nose, spine reshaping itself. She’d huddled, her knees in her chest, spine pressing against her back, arms wrapped around her shins and the Shadowsinger drapes a blanket over her shoulders and hands her clothes. 

Vassa comes enough times that she knows where to land now, where clothes will be waiting, food and water, but for some reason the Shadowsinger is always there, handing her the said blanket and clothes. And when he’s not, he is where he dwells most: the shadows. Watching over her. 

Every night, when she can, Vassa sits before the two High Lords and the High Lady, always having hope. It’s one thing that can not be broken, can not be taken. The hope that these three High Fae can help her, break her curse. 

Until the three that gave her the most hope she’s felt in a long time, take it away. Thesan and Helion have had their best people working on it, Feyre has had the Priestesses in the library reading, scouring, hoping to find something that can help this Queen. Anything.

But Vassa can see it in their eyes. Eyes that hold sorrow. The curve of the creases in their foreheads, the harsh rubbing of their fingers against their temples. But she still comes, still lands in the Day Court. The Shadowsinger still comes, as well. She has to believe - believe that if a curse can be made, then it can be broken. 

So where does this hope go? How does she lose it. Because Azriel is waiting, waiting for the firebird to fly through the skies; the people are waiting, waiting to see those glorious red and orange wings that are made of fire, the yellow beak, soaring through the night. So why does she not come? Why does she not come if she is the one person in all of Prythian, in all the islands and continents; of fae and human; of day and night, that has the most hope. 

Azriel decides to have enough hope for her when her hope as sputtered out. He decides that if she has stopped hoping, then its time he starts hoping more. His shadows look for, he looks for her, he doesn’t know why. Not yet. Why he’s so insistent on seeing this woman, this girl, the human, this queen finally be free. 

He realizes it, when it comes to the lake, guarded by the dark-lord. Vassa is trapped in a cell of fire, where as he had been trapped in a cell of darkness. Trapped in light or trapped in darkness, both of these people were trapped none of the less. He got free and he is determined to see her freed. 

So just as the sun curves over the sky, swims and dips beneath the horizon, Azriel stands in front of the firebird. And he wordless holds out a blanket, wordless watches as Vassa’s bones break; as her spine cracks, as a beak turns to a nose once more, as talons turn to toes yet again, as wings shift and turn, becoming sun kissed brown arms. “Let them try again,” Is all he says and Vassa looks up at him, beneath a hood of golden-red hair. She takes the blanket, she takes the clothes. 

She takes the hope the Shadowsinger is offering her.

And she takes his hand, allowing him to pull her into the darkness that is his realm, his kingdom, his salvation (and what was almost his demise). She travels through these shadows, her hand never leaving his. 

She lets Helion, Thesan, and Feyre try again. Even though she is drained of hope, the Shadowsinger standing in the corner, watching, eyebrows pinched, gives her enough hope to go through this again. 

“Come with me,” Is all the Shadowsinger says when the two High Lords and the High Lady say they’ve tried everything they can. Vassa takes his hand again and finds herself on the top of the tallest building in the Day Court, so close to the stars that maybe, just maybe she can touch them. 

She has no desire to touch the stars, not yet. 

And then she sees the sun slowly rising above the horizon. And she turns to the Shadowsinger and Azriel just places his fingers by hers, then turns his palm up. Her fingers slide over his, her palm brushing against his, with those callouses and scars caused by burns from long ago. 

Azriel holds her hand and he doesn’t let go, he grips tight, hoping, praying, wishing, dreaming, that she will not turn into a firebird once more. Vassa squeezes his hand back, her shoulders shaking from tears she won’t let fall. 

She watches the sun rise. And rise more and more and more until her face and her body is bathed in sunlight. And she arches her back and finally those tears fall. She’s sobbing, tears curving over her cheeks, down her neck, as the sun warms her face - her human face. 

Azriel’s own shadows disappear, his wings tucked harshly behind his back, and he soaks in the sun with the queen, letting it warm him; his hand still in hers, a death grip returning her own. 

His thumb curves down her cheek, wiping a single tear. 

Then Vassa is hugging him, sobbing into his shoulder. Without a second thought she had jumped on him, sought out his comforting touch, cool and warm at the same time. 

And Azriel - Azriel he wraps an arm around her back, his shadows nowhere to be seen. Because Queen Vassa has had enough shadows for now, he wishes he could put the sun on a leash and bring it down to her, put it in his palm and hand it over as a present. 

“Thank you,” She whispers, because had Azriel not found her, had he not traveled far and wide, had he not told her to cling to just one more slither of hope, she would be a bird once more. 

They stay on that rooftop all day, lying there, Vassa tracking the sun with her finger. She smiles, a smile that Azriel had decided is much brighter than the sun, even by Day Court standards, and she starts talking. And Azriel listens. 

She talks about what it was like, to be the firebird. To have her soul trapped in that body, but to also have her body become that of a bird. How she had to navigate it, when she finally came to terms with her curse, but never gave up hope. 

Did their hands ever let go? Or had one of them taken the other’s hand once again as Azriel began to talk as well, tell his own story. How he had been trapped in the dark, far below ground, and Vassa listens. How his body had not been his own, how he had not even seen his fingers when he held them in front of his face. 

“Why do you find comfort in shadows?” She asks. In her time on this roof, she has found comfort in the sunlight, but it is different than the flame. The flame locked her in, made it so she could not breathe, and her only relief was the night, the stars. 

“I was too afraid to let them scare me,” Azriel whispers back, as if this is a secret he has kept a long time. Because it is. “I was too afraid to be afraid of them anymore. So when I realized that they were mine, the shadows were mine and I was not theirs, I began to find comfort in them” 

“The flame can be yours, too, Vassa”

She is almost certain this is the first time he has said her name. It sends shivers down her spine. “The flames will be mine, Azriel” 

Is this the first time she has said his name? Because it sends sparks down his own spine. He stares at her, those molten brown eyes, that seem as if fire burns within, a fire of gold. And she looks into his own hazel eyes, where the shadows swim. 

And they both look back up at the sky, at the sun which seemed to smile down at them. The Shadows of the Flame. The Flame within the Shadows. 

Cerridwyn didn’t know where the request had come from, or even, really, who she was supposed to be meeting. But if it was harmless, there was no harm in accepting, and if it were an attack, well, better to be stabbed in the front than in the back. And so it was that at 1:15 pm on the 15th day of the Month of Nets, she stood on the balcony of a private room at the Caulkenney Flower Inn, leaning on the railing as she waited for the mysterious note-sender.

@shadeofthescarletwolves

“Sequel” thread to Assassination Attempt.

It had been nearly a year since Lord Rydderch’s death, and Cerridwyn just couldn’t seem to find peace. She had tried settling in Karnaca, as she’d told Shade she would, selling small glass sculptures, but it had been too quiet. Too much time to think. So she’d moved on, tried adventuring in Pandyssia, meeting new people, searching for exciting ruins, but learning about the great continent across the sea had always been Rhys’s dream, and everything she found just reminded her that he wasn’t there to see it.

Eventually, she gave up trying to find peace or adventure, and settled for work instead. She had always been a solitary mercenary, never working for an agency, but, from what little she knew of Shade, she seemed to be part of an organization. So she went searching across the isles, discreetly displaying the pendant Shade had given her, until she finally received word to visit Tamarak, and search for her there. 

Eight stars, awesome! So, brought to you by the d14- a D&D die I didn't know existed- eight fun facts about randomly determined OC muses!

1.) Margaret "Maggie" Barnes- In her main verse, Maggie is a rebel and vigilante known only as "Fox". She mainly works with "hacktivism" but can hold her own in a fight if necessary.

2.) Alex Lazuli- In his original incarnation, Alex was the front-man for a small-time local rock band. I haven't decided if that applies to his redesign yet.

3.) Rowena Ebony- While on the surface Rowena looks like a classic witch, she's actually a D&D-style monk, and can and will kick ass.

4.) Katherine Renault- Katherine is a shapeshifter, having started life as my first-ever D&D druid. Her preferred forms- aside from human, of course- are cat (or maybe mink), dove, and moth.

5.) Cerridwyn Maddox- Cerridwyn is my oldest OC, having existed in some form or another since 2010. The only true constants that have remained in all incarnations are the surname "Maddox", and her affiliation with fire.

6.) Angela Kunstler- Angela's hair changes color, sometimes at will, sometimes by her mood. This is because when I was fleshing out her design I couldn't decide what secondary color I wanted her two-tone hair to be, so she got all of them.

7.) Beth Doubek- Beth acts tough, but she's a huge scaredy-cat when it comes to scary movies.

My oldest muse!