well, after much procrastination and agonizin over my prose, I've decided to start this off with the background I typed for Sohn of the Riverheart. a bard that resides both in a PBP on these forums, and in an on and off campaign with the group I left behind for college.... I haven't looked at this since I pulled it up for my DM at the session.... I'm hoping its not to terrible

as for context, I was asked to write "what would Sohn do on a day off?" with the stipulation that I was writing from the perspective that "my day off" was a day off from an academy or bardic school of some sort, and given a free day before being sent on an adventure....

so without further adu....ado...aduie? crap....

here's my first 'snippet'
A day in the life of Sohn of the Riverheart

Its Sohn’s day off, no class, no chores, no obligations, he is free to follow his muse…. Unfortunately, his muse has not yet managed to wake him up. He snores heavily sprawled upon his bed. The sun streams through the shutters on his window, eventually getting in his eyes and waking him up. It’s late in the day (for Sohn at least, he typically rises before the sun, but knowing he had today off, he stayed out carousing with friends and generally making a nuisance of himself to the barmaids), Sohn rolls out of bed and pulls his clothes on, his black pants with the silver trim, a black shirt, and his black and silver cape, and (of course) his “ugly” hat (not so much ‘ugly’ more ‘had the hell beaten out of it’) still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he leaves his room and heads toward… he stops, and thinks to himself “just what am I going to do today?”… He summons his harmonica and puts it away in one of his pockets and carries on towards one of the natural areas of the ‘academy’. Sohn wanted to think, even though it often made him much more somber than he liked…. After finding ‘his’ rock and perching himself upon it, he sat there for several hours, occasionally playing on his harmonica or simply singing… for a bard, he was very private about his performances, and only 3 or 4 people had ever done more than overhear him either through his walls or while out and about while he was on his rock.

After sitting upon his rock for several hours Sohn hops down from it and sets off towards the cafeteria. He makes the decision to avoid the stables today, even though he loves to ride, because this is his day off and he doesn’t want to be saddle sore tomorrow. After breakfast, Sohn wanders the academy aimlessly making conversation with anyone he encounters before he finds himself in the library. He scans the book cases before finally settling on an epic tale of the adventures of –name of Roche’s adventuring group- he stayed in the library for hours, well past when his stomach told him it was time for lunch. But eventually he listened to it and went on towards the cafeteria, where he ate with his friends and settled into his normal habit of extracting every possible scrap of information out of his surroundings…. Sohn liked to know things… He put in more hours in the library than the book keepers, loremasters, and librarians sometimes. He could easily rattle off more about the heavens and the hells and the wonders of the world than any of his classmates, (his teachers still had him beat though) he skipped evening worship, not having dedicated himself to any god or pantheon. And went on to meet with his good friend Crystal out near his rock. Crystal was a (relatively young) elf girl, at 46, they often spoke and played music together Crystal was quite adept with the flute and the violin, but she wasn’t a minstrel, she was instead an archer in training. After spending most of the rest of the day hanging out with crystal at the rock, they both headed back for the evening meal. Knowing Sohn had a big day in the morning, Crystal didn’t keep him out late after dinner, and sent him promptly off to bed.

Sohn slept fitfully for most of the night, but had drifted off into a deep slumber by morning.

-The following is written assuming a beginning much like the spurs quest, if this was an erroneous assumption, disregard it-

Sohn rose with the sun this day, as was his custom. He was up and half way through his stretching before the trumpets woke the campus. After finishing stretching out his rather thickset frame, he dressed himself in a slightly more formal and prepared manner than yesterday.

He put on his black pants with silver piping again, as well as the same shirt from the day before, as well as the cape. However, on this day, he also buckled on a black leather belt with a stylized skull buckle. He hefted his Morningstar from its place by his bed and checked its weight and balance, as was his habit every time he picked up his unbardly brutal weapon, finding nothing amiss with its feel; he looped it onto his belt, followed by his sap, which he smacked into his palm before putting it away. Having put away his two favored weapons, he wrapped his black scarf around his neck in such a manner that part of it could easily be pulled up over the bottom half of his face, into his pack (messenger bag) went his hell-beaten hat, and upon his head he placed a black broad-brimmed hat, with a silver band about the crown, and a set of lock picks hidden within it.

He examined himself in his mirror to make sure everything was as it should be.

His hat cast a shadow over the top half of his face when the sun shone on him, its silver band glinting brightly. All is as it should be

His shirt hung loosely about his frame, drawn tight across his left shoulder and right hip by the strap of his satchel. His bag hung just behind his hip, resting snugly. All is as it should be.

His pants also fit loosely, hiding the shape of his legs, just as his shirt hid the shape of his body, and they were comfortable and looked damn good. His belt was also situated perfectly and the buckle polished to a shine. All is as it should be.

His cape/cloak was flung back over his shoulders for now but could easily enfold his whole frame. It was held across his chest with a silver clasp with the emblem of a long hafted hammer wrapped in a spiked chain. His scarf was situated in such a manner as to cover his neck and rest upon his shoulders; he could easily pull up one of the folds to cover the bottom of his face. All is as it should be.

At his belt hung his Morningstar, it was a black hafted weapon, the handle was wrapped in black leather over silver wire, the business end of the weapon was a spiked ball the size of two clenched fists. It glinted dully in the light, brutal and deadly. All is as it should be.

Even though it couldn’t be seen in the mirror, he knew his sap lay secured within his clothing, a black strip of leather that grew larger at one end, where it encased a pouch filled with lead weight. The weapon had felled many a tavern brawler during his stay in the academy. All is as it should be.

His boots were heavy and thick, made of tough leather; they fit snuggly and did not slip about his feet. All is as it should be.

Within his satchel, his favorite (and unfortunately, most abused) hat lay within, it was a deep dark green, and floppy, and no longer maintained its original shape, however it DID hold its current shape rather well, and he wore it often during his travels. It was undecorated, unlike the hat he wore now, though similar in size and shape. The hat within his satchel was utterly unadorned, except for two buttons, one on either side, where the brim of the hat could be pinned up. All is as it should be

Steeling him for the trials the day would surely bring, he turned to the window, knelt, and mouthed a quick prayer to most of the good deities, he then stood, turned and left his room, and preceded to the courtyard.

All is as it should be...

I'm going to go duck and cover now and be insecure about my writing