You say, ‘I would like to hear a tune.’
Vhalen Nostrolo says ‘Inside this heart I am trapped with the sight beautiful colors, all memories of your love. They attack me with fullmight. You left me here in this garden of grey Never to see the true colors of the happiness of day. Here in my heart I sit and I cry. You have left me alone and my colors have all died. What do you think? Is it a happy tune or a sad tune?
You say, ‘A sad tune, I think.’
Vhalen Nostrolo says ‘It takes a broken heart to truly appreciate that tune. I am glad you enjoyed it. My dear Metala left me one year ago. The wound has healed, but the scar lives on. I am presently trying to complete a New Composition. Maybe that will turn me around.
You say, ‘Where is Metala?’
Vhalen Nostrolo says ‘My dear sweet Metala Highflit. She was a bard I trained and fell in love with. We were perfect together. We composed many love ballads during those years. I just love the way she used to brush the hair away from her face and to see her in the moonlight brought daylight to my soul . We had such times ! I remember once we had dinner at the lion’s Mane and we ordered a burrow pie for desert and she got some whipped cream on her nose ! Oh it was so cute.. Am I boring you or should I tell you where it went wrong?
You say, ‘Tell me where it went wrong.’
Vhalen Nostrolo says ‘It was like that for years and then it all just ended. She began to hang around some man called Garuc Anehm. She started attending evening functions. She said it was choir practice for the Temple of Life. Do you want to know what I found out or am I boring you?
You say, ‘What did you find out?’
Vhalen Nostrolo says ‘Feeling neglected, I also went to join the choir. To my shock I learned from High Priestess Jahnda that Metala never was in the choir. When I mentioned that fellow Garuc’s name she gave me a dirty look and could talk no further. Must be boring you. You don’t want to hear the end.
You say, ‘I want to hear the end.’
Vhalen Nostrolo says ‘I went home to confront Metala. All I found was an empty house and a note. ‘Sorry to leave. Thank you for all you have taught me. My new friends have showed me new paths of pain. My music shall sing for a new generation of bard. Goodbye.’ I never saw her again. What ever she has started is twisted and contorted. It is not the music of the soul. She must surely be stopped before it is too late. Please go. I do not feel like talking any further of this.