<div class="floatleft">(https://i.gyazo.com/6db94c2012d2145f040e6b52109b0f7d.jpg)</div><strong>Han-Nan: The Lady of Masks</strong>(https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2145346)<br/><br/><em>At the Gilliam's Emporium</em><br/><br/>Taking note of the entrance of the drowess Elandra and her company, the minstrel adjusted her performance by adding a stringed instrument to the mix.  Sharp plucked tones echoed out, as she took mincing steps around the perimeter of the Common Room towards the dusky-skinned maiden.<br/><br/>The next to become the object of her musical focus was the minotaur, the masked performer taking up a slow orbit even as he drank in the sights and smells, the fatigue and weariness evident upon his physique.  She cooed wordlessly as she played, offering a soft sound of sympathetic welcome and comfort to him.  Likewise, the nude human slave that accompanied him, was offered a nod of the forehead and a few strains of the exotic stringed zither.  Still in orbit about the great rim of the room, the masked woman circled the two curiously as she played.<br/><br/>The behavior of the goblins did not ellicit a reaction from the bard, although she did not deign to approach the tawdry sexual violation going on, keeping her distance even as her performance of dance and music drew the atmosphere of the environment towards more cultured going-ons.  Giving the humanoids their distance, she skirts the approach of the Deep Humans but offers a few refrains in respectful courtesy, knowing that most rough and tumble sorts still appreciate and respect the status of a minstrel, so she gives them the opportunity to offer tips or make requests as she plays nearby.<br/><br/>Now she adjusts her path towards the male drow Berg and the lone female drowess Rilrae, nearly completing her orbit about the Common Room.  For each, she bows deeply, plucking the zither strings artfully as she awaits their response to her wordless attentions, seeing if they have inquiries or offerings.  Her feet tap in place, silently making a shuffle of slippered footfalls as she circles, her illusion of leaves, sunlight, and birds still keeping the inner center of the Common Room her 'stage'.<br/><br/>Finally the place where the stout dwarf reclined concluded the ringed dance and encircling of the masked performer.  For the child of stone, she adjusted her music once more into a a deeper finale, resuming the beats of drums layered over the strumming, like the dripping of water patiently across the roots of mountains; her illusion shifting subtly from hues of greenery to shades of worked hills and cliffs, from the cries of songbirds to birds of prey as they soared over mountainpeaks.  Her footwork as she danced was like a methodical rhythm of marching bootfalls, evoking the unified toil of the workers beneath mountainsides.  As she slowly let those beats and pulses diminish as her tune drew to an end, she bowed her forehead, awaiting signs of the audience's pleasure and approval...