[hider=Lairëcúma the Bard]
[CENTER][h1]Lairëcúma[/h1][/CENTER]
[i]"Well, here I am!"[/i]
[table][row][/row][row][cell]
[center][img]https://i.postimg.cc/Wb2bHPyc/Calarisse.jpg[/img]
[sup]_______________________________________________[/sup]
[sub]Calaríssë Thalanriel, Lairëcúma

She/Her  [b]|[/b]   238   [b]|[/b]   High Elf   [b]|[/b]   High Elf   [b]|[/b]   174 cm  [b]|[/b]   Weight 110lbs  [b]|[/b]      
[sup]_______________________________________________[/sup]
Subversive Elf
[sup]_______________________________________________[/sup]
Skills & Talents[/sub]
[i]"You’ll see what I’m about soon enough."[/i]
[sup]___________________________________[/sup][/center][hider=]
[sub]
[b]Classically Trained Elven Performer[/b] Calaríssë, or Lairëcúma, as she’s better known has an exceptional, classically trained performer. Gifted with an exceptional singing voice and has over her life has accumulated a collection and talent with an eccentric array of instruments, as well as being an excellent dancer, with an expansive knowledge of musical theory. The elven music masters don’t half-ass anything.

[b]Charisma[/b] Call it presence, call it charm, poise, grace or a true joie de vive, but Calaríssë enjoys performing, entertaining and making others happy and her natural enthusiasm can be infectious. She’s great fun at parties.

[b]Jack of All Trades[/b] Calaríssë is not only a bard who picks things up in her travels and experiences - but an exceptionally long-lived one. She’s not exceptional in most things, but has picked up an impressively broad, if inexpert, base of knowledge and skills over the years.
[/sub][/hider]

[/cell][cell][sub][b]Appearance[/b][/sub]
[sub][sup]▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔[/sup][/sub]
[i]"Don’t let her looks fool you, that’s no Lady."[/i]

[indent]Calaríssë cannot be mistaken for anything but a high elf, fair of skin, long hair like spun gold, possessed of an otherworldly grace like one that is not of this world but somewhere else, some higher plane of light and existence. Especially with unfamiliar audiences, Calaríssë often plays into perceptions of her being a graceful, delicate elven songstress. An illusion that quickly crashes upon any coherent interaction with the woman.[/indent]

[/cell][/row][/table][sub][b] Psychology[/b][/sub]
[sub][sup]▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔[/sup][/sub]
[CENTER]
[hider=We're Pretty Sure You're Going to Die Soon Anyway: THE SONG]
[i]"I. Am. An…
Elf.

I am a High Elf!
I know there’s so many questions,
You might ask about myself!
Why do my ears,
Come up to here? 
Why does my bow cost more 
Than you earn in a year…?

(I don’t actually own a bow,
So whoever asked that… huh?)

Why are elves so very serious?
So aloof and so [i]mysterious[/i]?
What do I put in my hair,
Why's my nose so up in the air? 
Why it’s a question for the masses,
As to what’s crawled up our asses.
And, by the way…
Just how old am I?

(Too old for you… yeah, way too old)

So why are we so erudite?
So unfailingly polite,
So just ask, friend, do not fear,
That is, after all, why I am here!
I’ll spill the truth, our guarded lore,
Our ancient wisdom, kept for…
(Well, not actually kept. It’s just…)
WE’RE JUST PRETTY SURE YOU’RE GOING TO DIE SOON ANYWAY!
(Oops! Did I say that out loud? Ha!
It doesn’t even rhyme, does it?)
BUT WE’RE PRETTY SURE YOU’RE GOING TO DIE SOON ANYWAY!
(Ha! That’s actually the chorus I guess…)

We don’t mean it cruelly, no no no
It’s just mathematically so!
A blink for us, a lifetime for you,
Then - poof - you’re mulch: we move on through!
YOU’RE GOING TO DIE SOON ANYWAY!

So please forgive the vacant stare,
It’s hard to care when you’re just… [i]eh[/i]… 

But what else can we say?
It’s just another game we play.
I know it may be rather shocking,
But we’d rather you just stop talking,

(Maybe… write your name somewhere,
So maybe later… 
We’ll remember you were there…)
[Awkward silence]
YOU’RE GOING TO DIE SOON ANYWAY!

It’s nothing personal, you see…
Entropy just favors… [i]me[/i]!
Your gods are born, your gods expire,
Ours got bored and then retired.
You call us cold (Oh, that’s unkind)
It’s just…

YOU’RE GOING TO DIE SOON ANYWAY!
So drink! Sing! Fall in love! Start fights!
Invent a cheese! Fly some kites!
[i]CAUSE YOU’RE GONNA DIE SOON ANYWAY[/i]
And when you’re gone, we’ll softly say:
Oh, he was nice. I think his name was…

…

Aw shit…"[/i]
[/hider]
[/CENTER]

[INDENT][b]MAIN GOAL  ⫻[/b] Calaríssë’s goal in life is to learn, laugh, dance, sing and otherwise have a good time of it since she’s likely to be stuck her for another few centuries. She’s already well established in her craft and her only major ambition is not dying on some rock hurtling between the planes of reality.

[b]PHILOSOPHY  ⫻[/b] Calaríssë is skeptical of ambition, seeing mostly the harm it does - people making one another miserable - where the common things in life: food, company, love, music, dance and beauty are everywhere around them. That ultimately the goal of any being in this world is to leave the world, and the people touched by them, better for their passing through it. That being said, her vengeance is a thing to behold.

[b]SECRETS  ⫻[/b] Calaríssë has few ghosts in her past. Time, among largely mortal company, has covered over most of her most egregious youthful indiscretions. The closest thing to a secret she keeps is that her naturally upbeat outward positivity masks a deep cynicism in the world often only sees outlet in her music.

[b]SEXUALITY  ⫻[/b] Calaríssë is quite flexible in her interests.

[b]FEARS  ⫻[/b] Failing to live up to her expectations of herself. Failing to stand up for right or good. The nagging fear of whether this life she’s chosen for herself is truly all there is, or the best use of her life, her gifts and talents.

[b]WHAT BROUGHT THEM TO GREYHARROW  ⫻ [/b]  It was supposed to be a six day gig before moving on. Entertain for a couple nights. Free drinks. Meet new people and share stories over hearth and fire. And now… 

[b]WHAT DO OTHERS IN TOWN THINK OF THEM  ⫻ [/b]  She’s The Bard

[b]EQUIPMENT  ⫻[/b] Calaríssë travels with a fine white elven stallion named [i]Addring[/i], who despite being an excellent mount, is most often found harnessed to the small two-wheeled carriage that carries most of her belongings. This includes her prized collection of instruments. She travels with a trunk of clothing collected over the years that range from practical travel wear, to elaborate courtly fashion, to quite colourful and bizarre costuming. Calaríssë possesses no classic elven bow but while rarely seen, she does possess an exquisite ancient elven blade [i]Isilfang[/i] forged by lost elven techniques, such that it glows faintly under the light of a full moon.

[b]FLAWS  ⫻[/b] 
[/INDENT]

[sub][b] Backstory[/b][/sub]
[sub][sup]▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔[/sup][/sub]
[i]"Ha! Not much to say, I’m pretty much just your typical bard - leave me a coin and a drink and I’m happy!"[/i]

[indent]Lairëcúma the Bard was born Calaríssë Thalanriel, youngest child of the great high elven lord, Thalanor. Her early life was spent much like many young elves, running through the secluded glades of the elven forest city, being trained in the arts befitting a young elven lady. Her musical talent was spotted early, and she was provided tutors and encouraged as such pursuits were considered fine and proper for a young woman of her station, eventually securing herself a placement at a young age - for an elf - in the very demanding [i]Coa i Quingo[/i] musical Guild, under some of the most renowned elven court musicians. There were high hopes for the young woman at this time.

This was a difficult period in Calaríssë’s life. As she grew older it wasn’t merely the strictures of her station, but elven life in general that disagreed with her and grated upon others. Calaríssë loved to meet new people, spoke openly with others and in short, possessed none of the graceful reserve befitting a high elf. Elven life was cloistered, there was a certain warmth among close family and friends - but being open, approaching others, speaking with any sort of familiarity: it bore ill upon her family and frankly, the other elves she approached seemed just as put off that their lord’s daughter would approach them so brazenly.

Her life within the guild itself was worse. That same need she felt, like the need for breath or life itself made the rigid forms and styles of elven courtly music feel too constrained. For Calaríssë, musical was about expression, about joy, about improvising new and varied tones that pleased in the moment - yet this was not the crystalline perfection her teachers expected and demanded. It felt like a slow suffocation, and her breaks from endless practice into variations was sternly rebuked as a corruption of the art. In the end Calaríssë feuded openly with her teachers and was eventually tossed out of the guild, despite her admitted talent - it wasn’t her talent that had failed, she was told, but her lack of discipline.

Calaríssë return from the guild was warm enough, but yet she could sense her family’s subtle disappointment as they tried to integrate their failure of a daughter back into courtly life. Tried to arrange suitors. Find some other pursuit to occupy her time - but it was always her failed, unwanted, and broken music that called back to her. Despite being advised, in good faith, to set aside this failed experiment and apply herself to other matters - she had such a long life to live, perhaps she might return to it someday - none of it appealed to her.

Calaríssë took to the woods often, and there - despite warnings of danger - came to encounter outsiders. Contrary to her people’s warning that outsiders were unpredictable, potentially dangerous, and certainly not to be trusted: Calaríssë found the mortal races she encountered far more kin to her spirit than her own people. People who within a few minutes of meeting a person might share a fire, and laugh and sing and talk about themselves and one another - and didn’t mind if a song was not sung a certain way, every note perfectly arranged according to principles of music theory. They didn’t care if she told off-key jokes, or made faces when she played.

This all became some scandal at court. Of course it wasn’t approved. Several times she was banned from the woods. Several times she snuck away anyway. Out of the woods even, into the surrounding towns, only for one of her brothers to appear and demand her return.

Eventually she fell in love with some player with a travelling acting troupe and what transpired was not pretty and terribly embarrassing to think back upon. All the worse for her family’s worse fears and protestations coming to pass. It was a disaster of course. The fair young man that had been her fancy, was far too fond of his wine - and his women - it turned out. The breakup was even uglier than when she’d run away from home.

It turned out there was a market for her talents, and the road promised the sort of musical and performance freedom - and acceptance - she’d long sought. Years passed, along with many personal and professional partnerships that grew up, as familiar names and faces grew old and faded away. Calaríssë became a distant memory. 

Lairëcúma The Bard, was far happier, far more at peace with herself than the girl, Calaríssë had ever been. As decades shifted into centuries she began to see the trajectory of her life passing forward into the Great Beyond that awaited all elves upon their calling. She even returned to her family, finding welcome as the prodigal daughter returned - even finding some measure of acceptance, as a musician, from her former teachers who seemed interested in the things she had heard, and learned upon her great sojourn. But the road had called.

And that would have been that had she not stopped in Greyharrow. Six days, free room and drinks, and a steady stream of audience. It was familiar. What could possibly go wrong? And then the tower had exploded and now nothing she’d assumed was any longer certain.
[/indent]

[CENTER][i]"And, that's pretty much me."[/i][/CENTER]

[sub][b]BARD![/b][/sub] 
[sub][sup]▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔[/sup][/sub]
[i]"We bring for thee the finest entertainments,
And I am pleased to be your humble servant…"[/i]

[indent][b]TYPE  ⫻[/b] Bard

[b]MAGIC OR FIGHTING STYLE  ⫻[/b]

In terms of fighting style, Calaríssë prefers to avoid combat if possible, remaining nimble, out-of-reach, taking opportunities where they come. Using her sword, [i]Isilfang[/i] to ward off attackers while bolstering her allies. Despite abhorring violence, if it comes to it, she does not greatly prize an honourable fight and is entirely willing to fight dirty.

[b]Bardic Music[/b] Calaríssë’s primary training involves weaving subtle enchantments into her music. Masters can create a variety of effects, but in battle Calaríssë can imbue subtle effects to bolster her allies, or disrupt her enemies.

When Calaríssë performs inspiring songs, her allies may find themselves just a little bit better than they might otherwise be. An enemy might find themselves distracted by her cutting remarks, or goaded into trying to shut up that stupid bard.

[b]Minor Illusion[/b] Calaríssë can create a sound or an image of an object within 30ft that lasts for up to 1 minute. 

A sound can range in volume from a whisper to a scream. It can be your voice, someone else’s voice, a lion’s roar, a beating of drums, or any other sound you choose. The sound continues unabated throughout the duration, or you can make discrete sounds at different times before the spell ends.

An image can be no larger than a 5-foot cube. The image can’t create sound, light, smell, or any other sensory effect. Physical interaction with the image reveals it to be an illusion, because things can pass through it.

[b]Prestidigitation[/b] Calaríssë can create a variety of magical effects within 5ft:
An instantaneous, harmless sensory effect, such as a shower of sparks, a puff of wind, faint musical notes, or an odd odor.
You instantaneously light or snuff out a candle, a torch, or a small campfire.
You instantaneously clean or soil an object no larger than 1 cubic foot.
You chill, warm, or flavor up to 1 cubic foot of nonliving material for 1 hour.
You make a color, a small mark, or a symbol appear on an object or a surface for 1 hour.
You create a nonmagical trinket or an illusory image that can fit in your hand and that lasts until the end of your next turn.
If you cast this spell multiple times, you can have up to three of its non-instantaneous effects active at a time, and you can dismiss such an effect as an action.

[b]COLLEGE ⫻[/b] Calaríssë studied her craft primarily at the [i]Coa i Quingo[/i], the very prestigious musical guild of the Valarínë elves, studying directly under the venerated Master Curufinwë Feanor. The elven music guild focusses greatly on emphasizing a musician’s core skills of performance and imbuing them with subtle enchantment effects. Of course, before being ejected from the guild for, more or less, refusing to adhere to the strictures of elven musical tradition it was Curufinwë who commented that she seemed spiteful of her gifts, eschewing beauty for ugliness describing her style as Lairëcúma - ‘the song mocker’ performing intentionally in ways meant to undermine rather than uplift.

[b]CURRENT WEAPONS/TOMES/STAFFS  ⫻[/b] Dagger. Rapier wit. Also a rapier.

[b]TRAINING  ⫻[/b] Calaríssë was taught both under her Guild and by her family according to high elven traditions, emphasizing things like languages - needlework for highborn ladies - as well as certain martial skills. These were never a great priority for Calaríssë but she was forced to train to high elven ‘minimum standards’. As such she’s proficient in mounted riding along with use of both sword and bow.

[b]LIMITS  ⫻[/b] To use her bardic music ability, Calaríssë has to actually be able to come up with a song, on the fly. If she (or I) can’t, then obviously there’s no music or effect. Obviously it doesn’t work if she can’t speak or those targeted can’t hear her either. She also has to maintain concentration on what she’s performing - not always easy while in battle.

[b]WEAKNESSES  ⫻[/b] Bardic Music: Calaríssë must be consistent during her performance, otherwise she runs the risk of the opposite effect happening.  If she misses a note, plays out of tune, or has an otherwise lackluster performance, her allies may feel sluggish, her enemies may be invigorated, and she may become the target of capture, as her enemies wish to keep her around for her continued performance.
[/INDENT]

[/hider]