Distain2003
Pulsar
- Joined
- Apr 10, 2009
Namir was one of the greatest bards the world had ever seen. He played for the King of England once a month, and the nobles of the land when ever he was near one. Namir was cocky but he never said he could do anything that he was not able to. He had grown a reputation for being almost as promiscuous as he was talented. Namir had his reason for everything he did. He was driven, he wanted not only to be the best bard was but to be the best bard there ever would be. As for his romantic life it was deemed a perk of the job men had needs and he had hundreds of women that wanted to fill them.
Namir was always one who loved preforming for the people. Every time he left London he would hold a full day concert with every musician in the city. There was no charge for this performance and it was an out door event. Namir was cautious and never allowed a drawing to be made of him. He would threaten the lives of any one who tried. He preferred to be able to travel with some anonymity.
He was on the 5th day of a 2 week trip south to a small town outside of London. His horse had fallen the day before and was to weak to carry him. He walked in front of his his horse his bag on his shoulder. He whistled softly as he walked. With out a horse he would miss his first show. The first show he had ever missed. He hoped to come across a farm soon. Or he would have many people very upset. He wore common cloths he was never one for being overly flashy, off stage anyway. Simple brown shirt and pants his long brown hair wash down his shoulder resting between his shoulder blades.
Namir was always one who loved preforming for the people. Every time he left London he would hold a full day concert with every musician in the city. There was no charge for this performance and it was an out door event. Namir was cautious and never allowed a drawing to be made of him. He would threaten the lives of any one who tried. He preferred to be able to travel with some anonymity.
He was on the 5th day of a 2 week trip south to a small town outside of London. His horse had fallen the day before and was to weak to carry him. He walked in front of his his horse his bag on his shoulder. He whistled softly as he walked. With out a horse he would miss his first show. The first show he had ever missed. He hoped to come across a farm soon. Or he would have many people very upset. He wore common cloths he was never one for being overly flashy, off stage anyway. Simple brown shirt and pants his long brown hair wash down his shoulder resting between his shoulder blades.