Thoven Chorter

The Literary Giant

There is undoubtedly no greater genius in the common language than the bard Thoven Chorter. His facility with the nuances of language, his creativity and and definition of poetic forms, his variations on the very structure of storytelling have established him as the pre-eminant author of the past thousand years, inspite of the normal evolution of language and changing fashions in linguistic works. His work has made a significant and lasting impression on theatre and literature. In particular, he expanded the dramatic potential of characterisation, plot, language, and genre. Chorter wrote sixteen novels, fourteen plays, seventy three short stories, thirty one songs including "Crimson lips I dare to touch" and two hundred and fifty six works of poetry over his writing lifetime.
Chorter's most famous work "The Adventure Tales of the Knife Brigade" has withstood the test of time capturing the imaginations of young and old alike for almost a thousand years. The brilliance of the bard in creating this classic work of high heroic fiction is undeniable. Not only is it a technically fine piece of literary fiction, but his story inspires us all, conveying the struggle of ordinary people rising to become extraordinary heroes in the face of crushing circumstances, personal tragedy, injustice, and concerted opposition by the forces of evil. In this work, he encapsulated the core tales of ancient mythology and brought them to brilliant life, capturing their enduring messages in consumable, meaningful, yet masterful storytelling rife with vivid imagery, exciting action, engaging characters and clever dialog. Hundreds of doctoral dissertation papers in the areas of literature, history, religion, magic, psychology and philosophy have been written over the years exploring the significance of this work and it's impacts on modern society.
Many of Chorter's works were published in editions of varying quality and accuracy in his lifetime. After he died, two of his fellow writers and friends Heminger Fellow and Conor Wright, published a definitive collected set of his dramatic works and poetry.
Chorter's early work was written in the conventional style of the day, in a stylised language that is not natural or relatable. However, he rapidly developed a new, more vivid and natural style where chracters were more self aware, revealing inner thoughts, conflicts and motivations to engage his audiences. He increasingly tuned his metaphors and images to the needs of the story itself.
As a poet and musician, Chorter composed in iambic pentameter. In practice, this meant that his verse was often unrhymed and consisted of ten syllables to a line, sung with a stress on every second syllable. As he developed his storytelling techniques, he innovated the use of breaks in unusual locations to interrupt the sing-song flow of the meter and convey emotional impact the character was feeling which gave a new power and flexibility to his poetry outside of the classic traditions. In the later part of his career, Chorter developed this technique further, concentrating words and meaning, delivering them in rapid, varied construction, not hesitating to challenge the reader with twisted or elliptical references and sentence construction. The variations included run-on lines, irregular pauses and stops, and extreme changes in sentence structure and length.
Chorter combined poetic and literary genius with a practical commerical and sociological presence. His work was simultaneously revolutionary and conventional. At all times his mastry of structure and innovation in language served the need to communicate and advance his stories while being sellable, relatable, and memorable.

Life of Chorter

May 22, 2852 (ME) to August 14, 2935 (ME) In Kogh Olihm, Draak'thor Massiff to Matilda Earher and Johad Chorter Clan of Stonecover
Chorter was educated at the Kogh Olihm School Number 8, and married Vanestra Hethrom of the OreGnasher clan at age 27. They had 3 children, Elizu Fisske, Keltren Warton, and Samuel Chorter.

Chorter lived in the Horndahl region of the Draak'thor Massif. There he moved in elite literary and military circles. Chorter and his wife owned a dozen local taverns, and Thorter spent many evenings in these, entertaining the crowds that came to hear him sing. He was quite popular and had acquired notariety as a performer before he began writing.
Chorter formed several close friendships with other writers and literary critics. His literary contemporaries and greatest admirers included Samuel Johennson, Mishele Watsdotr, and Grant Thorson. He was very interested in ancient forms of magic and druidism, although there is no evidence that he did magic himself. A frequent visitor was Leme Iran, a notable High Druid of the Circle of the Earth who resided in Y'thosra's Den.

February 2883

"That's not the way it happened," said the short, well dressed, grey haired dark elf tossing the thick sheaf of densely scribbled parchment onto the desk.
"That doesn't matter, tell me how it reads," replied the dwarf continuing his writing, not even glancing up at him.
"It reads fine, it just isn't right. Bughuula was more complicated, more flawed than that. She's idealized. No one is that... perfect." There had been a different word there, but it hadn't crossed his lips.
Thoven Chorter set his pen down and sat back with a sigh. He gazed up at the man standing in front of the desk. "Sit down Aden!" he said, and the dark elf settled his twisted dark wood staff into a corner of the room and took one of the comfortable chairs at the side of the desk.
"Why do you do this?" Thoven pleaded. "Why can't you just let go of what really happened and read it for what it is, the story that should have been, of the heros who were behind the events? You brought it to me, remember, and now, suddenly, you want me to treat it like history. I don't write history. History is a dry dusty thing they forget to teach in schools. It has only facts, and the meaning is hard to get to. I'm writing a story. Something they'll read. Something they'll remember. Something truer than the facts. Something that will inspire them and shape the world."
Adenshur Kenghym looked at his friend and sighed. "That sounds like hubris old man," he said.
Chorter laughed. "Who's calling me an old man?" he asked ignoring the accusation of pride. After all, he had just been named the Queen's poet two weeks ago. He supposed some pride was forgivable.
"An ancient wizard, bent and wise, skilled in sorcerery and secret powers according to your story."
Chorter smiled and shook his head. "Just another truth that isn't fact. You were never less than both ancient and wise with those four in tow."
A wry smile passed across the dark elf's face. "I suppose you're right, when you put it that way..." A shadow drifted briefly across his face, then disappeared.
The dwarf saw it, and silently promised himself, yet again, to wipe that shadow away forever. All those people, those children yet to come. They would remember what only he told them, only the tale he spun. Only the truth, not the facts. He would make his wounded friend pure, without bloodshed, the way he knew how, and it would work.
"I most certainly am right," laughed Chorter. "Now what you said about Bughuula, I think you're right. She is boring..."