The Storyteller propped a leg up along the fountain's edge and gave a strong, decisive strum of the lute.Leaning forward, he flicked his fingers in an improvised tune and spoke loud and deep; a sound they were sure to hear:"A tale of adventure, of sorrow, of courage and loss!I've a story to tell, surely one you'll not wish to miss."~~~"This is a tale of mischief and burdens!Of loneliness, of love, of war and battles;of life, death, and the in-between!To all of you, come close, and listen...I will begin to tell you all that I know."
"Speak!” commanded the Elder’s harsh, biting voice, and the winged thing looked at him with eyes that were blacker than the night...– no, darker –...for even the night has reflections of stars and moons, but here they were absent in his deep wells of stark ebony.“Your malevolence is beautiful,” he said, his voice like small pebbles plopped into the shadow of a cold stream. “A pity that you shame yourselves by allowing it to perish into ignorance and cruelty.”“Filth,” cried they, “Shadow!"
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