Origins of a Bard

Now for a story that you may find familiar in some way. About overcoming the oppression that seeks to steal your joy and drain your vigor. The bard from our previous tale came from humble beginnings in a harsh land, under a brutal overlord. A king who demanded outrageous taxes; taking nearly all of our grain. We hardly had anything to eat and each winter was a punishing struggle. You could be imprisoned for just about anything. If you fell into debt? Jail. If you held any beliefs but those instructed by the king? Jail. If you wore too bright a color? Jail. Or worse. You could be sent to the coast. Sentenced to hard labor for life! However long that might be. Or perhaps…it was said there was a beast living under the castle…I suppose it had to eat sometime...
One day, the king held an audience with his subjects. You know, the kind of meeting where they pretend to care for the people’s concerns but really it’s just to stave off uprisings? Well, I went to give him a piece of my mind. My family was starving. What else could I do?
I arrived and waited hours for an audience with the king. When I finally had my chance to speak he had no regard for my family’s troubles. But he noticed a certain lilting, musical quality in my voice and he made me Bard to the King on the spot. Of course, I agreed. It absolved my family of all their debt and put them in good favor. I did my job a little too well you might say. I wrote a song for the princess, and she was so enchanted with it that she decided to… well… “reward me”. So I was thrown in jail. When I got out I continued in my duties and wrote a song to similar effect for the prince. Little did I know that that would send me to extra jail.
So while I was in extra jail, I noticed a guard who would often hum little tunes as he paced. I offered to teach him songs to earn the attention of women such as the princess. He eagerly agreed and allowed me out to show him a few notes on a lute he snuck in under his cloak. As soon as the instrument was in my hands I sang him a lullaby so sweet a lark would weep, and he drifted off into the deepest slumber. With a deft slide of hand, I took the keys from his belt and set myself free! But it didn’t feel right to leave the rest of the poor souls in cages. So I unlocked their cells as well and we fled silently through the passageways until we came upon a garbage shoot. And through poor design and incredible luck, it was only a short way from the armory. All of the guards were on the level above, never imagining a threat would rise from below.
We grabbed all we could hold, sliding down the garbage shoot, rattling with armaments. Sending more down after each man to be ferreted away into the night. Once the armory was cleaned of all we could carry, I slid down the shoot myself. I had just slipped through the gates as the alarm sounded. “Escape! The prisoners escaped!!” But soon the cries turned into howls and shrieks, and the clash of metal on metal. “It’s a rebellion!” cried a guard on the wall. The call was echoed through the castle grounds. “Uprising!” “Man your stations!” “Give no quarter!”
And so a song, a simple lullaby, was the seed of a revolution. It could happen here just as well. Sing your songs, gather your strength, and together, throw off your chains! Break those who would break your spirit! May they crumble - any who would steal your joy!!