I have decided to use musical puns for my Bard when he meets other nobles and they are making small talk. You can look up tons of them online before a session and write down the best two or three.
In a Bard in introduced myself … "Good day. I am Cadenza, a musician, messenger and traveler from the east. My enemies call me Accent so they can attack me. But the ladies, they call me fermata, so they can … hold me. Let us break bread and tip a pint and share stories to see who might tell the best tales tonight."
Let's share our best musical jokes so we can pull them out later for our friends.
"I heard the great composer, Beethoven, passed away and everyone was in great distress that such an artist was taken from them. There was of course a grand funeral with arias, a wonderful requiem composed by the great artist himself, and even a new funeral march for the procession to the cemetery through town. Everyone turned out and all the businesses closed for the service. But later that evening, a cemetery guard was dutifully making his rounds to make sure no ne'er-do-wells attempted to dig up the great man and make off with some souvenir they might sell later, when as he approached the grave he heard a symphony, muffled, coming from the ground. He turned all ashen and nearly lost his footing. When he came to himself he ran to see the vicar. With the vicar in tow they returned and heard more violins, cellos and timpani, when the vicar fell to his knees and prayed. After a moment, the guard asked him, what shall we do? The vicar replied, "I'm not sure. Let's go find the undertaker. We may need to have him dug up if we're not too late." And off they went in haste, returning shortly with the undertaker, still pulling his coat on. So the three of them stopped short and as their breathing steadied the soft sounds of the great composers fifth symphony concluded. Then at once the Fourth began and they stood there listening to the muffled harmonies and counter melodies. After a minute, the vicar said with much urgency, "You see! We need to dig him up. It may not be too late." The undertaker looked at him and then understood what he was saying. In a calm voice he replied, "No, no. It happens with all the great musicians. He's decomposing."
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Cum catapultae proscriptae erunt tum soli proscript catapultas habebunt
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I have decided to use musical puns for my Bard when he meets other nobles and they are making small talk. You can look up tons of them online before a session and write down the best two or three.
In a Bard in introduced myself … "Good day. I am Cadenza, a musician, messenger and traveler from the east. My enemies call me Accent so they can attack me. But the ladies, they call me fermata, so they can … hold me. Let us break bread and tip a pint and share stories to see who might tell the best tales tonight."
Let's share our best musical jokes so we can pull them out later for our friends.
"I heard the great composer, Beethoven, passed away and everyone was in great distress that such an artist was taken from them. There was of course a grand funeral with arias, a wonderful requiem composed by the great artist himself, and even a new funeral march for the procession to the cemetery through town. Everyone turned out and all the businesses closed for the service. But later that evening, a cemetery guard was dutifully making his rounds to make sure no ne'er-do-wells attempted to dig up the great man and make off with some souvenir they might sell later, when as he approached the grave he heard a symphony, muffled, coming from the ground. He turned all ashen and nearly lost his footing. When he came to himself he ran to see the vicar. With the vicar in tow they returned and heard more violins, cellos and timpani, when the vicar fell to his knees and prayed. After a moment, the guard asked him, what shall we do? The vicar replied, "I'm not sure. Let's go find the undertaker. We may need to have him dug up if we're not too late." And off they went in haste, returning shortly with the undertaker, still pulling his coat on. So the three of them stopped short and as their breathing steadied the soft sounds of the great composers fifth symphony concluded. Then at once the Fourth began and they stood there listening to the muffled harmonies and counter melodies. After a minute, the vicar said with much urgency, "You see! We need to dig him up. It may not be too late." The undertaker looked at him and then understood what he was saying. In a calm voice he replied, "No, no. It happens with all the great musicians. He's decomposing."
Cum catapultae proscriptae erunt tum soli proscript catapultas habebunt