Ah, yes, that one. I must first give some background, so it makes sense.
My parents were driven from their home by people who blamed them for things that happened earlier in their lives - they were impressed into service for nobles, and then when the Revolution came, blamed for their own servitude - and so they ran and brought me with them. My papa died keeping my mother and I safe; mama left me at a temple and went off on their own, and I have not seen her since I was seven. Both had given me some instruction in their arts, and the temple chose to honor their tutelage. My skills did not lean towards the priestly arts.
Now, the temple I was left at was a temple of Calistria, who was once a goddess of the Elves,but now many other races give her homage. She is the goddess of lust, and trickery, and revenge. So now you understand why, when I was old and interested enough and considered sufficiently mature, I was granted leave to serve the temple as one of their professional lovers, and why they had them.
[She takes a sip.]
So one day, I am handling my duties and a gentleman comes in looking for an hour of time with one of us. As I am idle, I accept this, and he comes to my room, and as I disrobe for him as he had requested, he has the audacity to complain that I do not in fact have any elven blood in me! There were more humans than true elves there, and two half-elven ladies, and one halfing fellow who was particular gifted in a few ways, but I digress.
He had disrobed as well, and I find it hard to expect he'd pleased anyone with what he was bearing, if you get my meaning.
He complained about both my non-elvishness and my following remarks about his lack of endowment, and then he tried to assault me, and all that got him was tripped and he hit his head on the bedside. He was dragged out, his money returned, and he was told to never return. Many would accept that as their due, but no, not him. He took his coin to a tavern, he drank, and he told the story except, of course, he was the cheated person. And he told my name, and made me look like a common slattern.
[She takes another sip.]
The story came to the temple, and while people started telling the truth, there was still snickering. So I wrote a song about his... shortcomings, and paid a bard to play it in his favorite tavern. I have it on good authority that he was tapping his toe and banging his tankard along with it up to the moment it identified him, and then he went whiter than snow.
So, that ruined his reputation, and as he was a merchant, reputation is everything. So he tried to kill me a few times in revenge, but so far I live!
And that is that story.
[Juliette holds the skin up in a toast, and takes another swig.]
(and here we see how she was inspired by Alexandre Dumas, who was paid by the word.)
My parents were driven from their home by people who blamed them for things that happened earlier in their lives - they were impressed into service for nobles, and then when the Revolution came, blamed for their own servitude - and so they ran and brought me with them. My papa died keeping my mother and I safe; mama left me at a temple and went off on their own, and I have not seen her since I was seven. Both had given me some instruction in their arts, and the temple chose to honor their tutelage. My skills did not lean towards the priestly arts.
Now, the temple I was left at was a temple of Calistria, who was once a goddess of the Elves,but now many other races give her homage. She is the goddess of lust, and trickery, and revenge. So now you understand why, when I was old and interested enough and considered sufficiently mature, I was granted leave to serve the temple as one of their professional lovers, and why they had them.
[She takes a sip.]
So one day, I am handling my duties and a gentleman comes in looking for an hour of time with one of us. As I am idle, I accept this, and he comes to my room, and as I disrobe for him as he had requested, he has the audacity to complain that I do not in fact have any elven blood in me! There were more humans than true elves there, and two half-elven ladies, and one halfing fellow who was particular gifted in a few ways, but I digress.
He had disrobed as well, and I find it hard to expect he'd pleased anyone with what he was bearing, if you get my meaning.
He complained about both my non-elvishness and my following remarks about his lack of endowment, and then he tried to assault me, and all that got him was tripped and he hit his head on the bedside. He was dragged out, his money returned, and he was told to never return. Many would accept that as their due, but no, not him. He took his coin to a tavern, he drank, and he told the story except, of course, he was the cheated person. And he told my name, and made me look like a common slattern.
[She takes another sip.]
The story came to the temple, and while people started telling the truth, there was still snickering. So I wrote a song about his... shortcomings, and paid a bard to play it in his favorite tavern. I have it on good authority that he was tapping his toe and banging his tankard along with it up to the moment it identified him, and then he went whiter than snow.
So, that ruined his reputation, and as he was a merchant, reputation is everything. So he tried to kill me a few times in revenge, but so far I live!
And that is that story.
[Juliette holds the skin up in a toast, and takes another swig.]