a traveller's persona

This here traveller's sturdy walking staff has seen many miles and my woolen cloak many a storm. I only need a good pint of beer in my hand to tell a story or two. A wise lady once said that a poor conversationalist talks only of himself while a great one has the other person talking of themselves. So pull up a chair and I'll order you another round. I just had an itching to pen down this story of my humble busy life in the few past years. Please tell me how it sounds to you.1

An apprenticing bard, I've been lost in scholarly studies for what, over six seasons at the academy of Camosun. Unknown to me of where it would lead, a classmate handed me a cider and a wooden sword and asked me how it felt in my hand. After a few hours practice, I thoughts it fared well, turned it aside for my quill. I would hear later of the barony's armoured practices by spring's thaw and a year ago, I found them and was graciously accepted into their household, I's rarely been seeing them the last six moon; for sure has has left me homesick bitter. I's needed to only attend one practice to remember where I was meant to be. I was born in this noble Barony of Seagrit some 22 years ago. Much of life has been seen through these eyes.2

First of my lineage. My great grand-father was a German wine brew-master so I've been passed down the art of wine making. My grandfather a medic and my dad were a navigator in His majesty's Royal An Tir Navy. As consequence, I've heard more then a few sea shanties and stories in my day. My other great-grandfather was Welsh and my great-grandmother was Irish and gave me the crazy humour and sense of music. On my mother's side, my great-grandfather was a danish sailor who ran spiced rum from the West Indies to the Americas for a short time. My grandfather was apprenticed to be a cobbler but ran away to sea as well.3

All that mixed lineage makes me a bit of a European bastard with a sense of adventure and yearning for the sea travel.4

My parents wanted me to be a stonemason's apprentice and have a good steady job to support my family. After a few months of that, I ran away to join a painter's studio. Silly whim of an Irish lad but it can be hardly helped that a baron and his company of men and knights were traveling through.5

They were practicing in the field nearby and I was drawn by the clamour to do rough sketches. M'lord on his way to the crusades upon noticing me, tossed me a sword to try my skill. I found it much to my pleasing to be grinning in an old great helm and gripping a shield that the good baron James had given me to cover my arse better. Andreas the master of Arms gave me a sword to lend to his warring campaign. I was set. But autumn leaves began to drop heralding winter.6

I learned much that summer of swordsmanship, but -- at my parents bidding -- returned to the academy ended up finishing up for higher learning's in the ways of a bard. Ten moons passed while I delved in the scrolls of social sciences, writing and art history. It had me reaching for my sword just to release tension and do something warrior's again in destroying my pell-pole. I always had a quill and notepad if a poem should be a-wandering into my head.7

Once in a while, I would sneak from my studies to the mystical stitch and b!tch of A&S nights. I fumbled through and finished a basic tunic with some help from the kind and laughing ladies Katherine and Gladyss. Listening to stories of older warriors talking of battles past and their various heroic and hilarious deeds filled my heart more with desire to adventure. Those were merry nights even though few. I also learned the basis of leather working while flirting with the tanner's merchant's lovely redheaded daughter.8

During my semesters at the academy, an old Ronin samurai had somehow ended up in the Irish emerald gem and stopped his journey at our academy. He offered to teach curious students the basics of Japanese martial arts. This sad elderly Sensai was happy that I had some basic sword knowledge already and taught me the art of drawing the sword. Sadly, my sword and shield were almost gathering dust. I swore that as soon as my classes were over, back to the pell-pole and armourer's I would be.9

I've learned a fair stance of a warrior is good stead for any situation and a calm level-head to size up any challenge helps mounds to make moutnains into foothills. But most of all, I've learned... wack... well struck hit, HOLD!! good sir you've but wounded my pride almost more then my buttocks... ready to fight again, excellent, lay on, lay on. Death before dishonour fierce to the core to defend household and family.10

My story thus far is a simple gentleman's, but the war-drums are calling and so speak loudly spirits of my family's past call to me in the tunes of the piper's reels. Where my walking staff faces next, God willing a gentle breeze will be at my back and the sun upon my face. Til we meet again, may God or whichever great spirits hold you in the hollow of their hands.11

May peace find your sword sheathed and contentment find your tankard full among friends. I shall keep you in my thoughts as you have kindly listened to this here tale... I bid thee goodnight kind sir.12