Memoirs of Hysteria, A Bard’s Tale

This is the first of several rough entries I’ve come up with for a novel I’m working on. If the style is switched up between different entries, it’s because I’m just trying new ways of telling the story.  I will be attempting to have a new post up every other day.


“ ‘Gather! Gather round, be you young or old, wealthy or poor, beautiful or…um.  Maybe you should head to the back, lass. Professional courtesy and all that…thank you! Now this wondrous evening, I bring to you- HEY! Stop that! Don’t abuse those pure bedraggled villagers you hired louts! All have come to enjoy my tales! What? Five thousand? Really? No filthy poor people? Well…five thousand is five thousand…If that is the way this chill gust wishes to blow…’

Minutes pass…

Ahem. Lords and Ladies, most noble and gracious.  I bring to you tales from a time when this grand empire faced terrible, trying times.  Where our protectorates were betrayed, one after another, by our heroes most cherished.

Where were you when the Giant King Aryn disappeared into the mists of centuries, accompanied by his Giant-sized Troll companions, Ben, Bors, and Glut?  Did your heart stop upon hearing that Aryn had smashed his iron crown with his bare hands?  Did you feel his rage as you stared down on the iron splinters?

How long did your breath escape its prison in your chest, before you snatched it viciously back into its proper confines, when the news of the Flower Emperor’s only son and advisor trampling through the Lily court, riding upon an ancient devildile’s back, trickled its way into your ears?  Oh the shrieks of delightful despair heard around the world, when the story of how His Most Holy’s Son, Jun, spat at his father’s feet, pronouncing that disaster were to strike down the Lily Dynasty.  Truer words, I, a woman of infinite idioms, have never heard.

These tales I tell upon this midsummer dream, occur in the vacuum left by the Warrior of the Desert Rose’s Kiss.  Hysteria, protectorate of the Eighty and One Servants, was the jewel of the Lily Dynasty.  Gilgamesh, his name once most revered, now a curse upon the tongues of those loyal servants of this glorious empire, violently quit our people.  You know how his own empire now covers three quarters of lands once held by our own.  Many of you have known the feel of his vicious tyrannical ways.  Alas, his tragic tale is for another evening.

Hysteria’s leadership was granted to a man new to such a role, Lordling Antoine Lua.  After some success, yet also, some horrible, horrible disasters, Lord Antoine, sought an advisor to help him.

What arrived in the protectorate of Hysteria in place of such an advisor, accompanied by a tiny imp with an ivy covered staff of indeterminate size, as well as a man with iron fists, who was definitely not a vile person, well let us just say, an angel the young godling Kali, sadly was not. I was there, in Hysteria, for the reign of Kali, Goddess of Autumn’s Embrace.

It was the single most amazing, unthinkable and yet fantastic trial of idiocy I have ever seen the Lily Dynasty face, to this day.’”

-The Honest Bard, Cynillia of the August Breeze. A telling of A Midsummer’s Terror.



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