By: Sancero Posted on: May 28, 2009
The following is a one-scene stage production by Sancero B. Velprece, as seen from the audience.
-One Man Mutiny-
A lone Bard stands at center stage, head bowed and mandolin cradled casually in
his arms. He remains motionless, poised, until silence blankets the room.
Suddenly he springs to life, dashing off a few chords of reckless bravado before
plunging into a rolling melody that swells and surges like a galleon at high
sea. He wears a roguish grin as he picks up his feet in a high-stepping jig,
tapping out an intricate rhythm with heel and toe.
The Bard sings, "Eleven fearsome nights upon a ship across the sea with a bunch
of patcheyed pirates and an eye apiece on me! They locked me in a little cell
and threw away the key."
A crudely painted backdrop and a number of props fall clumsily into place from
the scaffolding above the stage. The scene depicts the wooden interior of a
creaky old ship's hull, complete with large barrels, nets, and scattered
cannonballs. An iron cell gate clatters to the stage in front of the Bard, but
he continues his wild jig as if nothing were amiss.
He sings, "But never did those dogs expect a one-man mutiny!" His jig takes him
back and forth behind the cell door and his lively accompaniment doesn't let up
at all.
"They took away my mandolin and rapier as well, but I kept my wits about me as
I paced across the cell. If I hoped to make it out alive and have a tale to
tell..."
The blade and instrument suddenly fly up and out of sight, pulled by unseen
cords into the scaffolding. The Bard continues a capella: "Then I had no other
choice except to give the pirates hell!"
He turns to the audience and says in a narrative tone, "So, ten days at the
bottom of a pirate schooner gave me plenty of time to think, especially as my
only company was a crusty old man with the mouth of a sailor and the stomach of
a seasick retriever. They kept me on a strict diet of hardtack, diluted
seawater, and the captain's bad poetry. Yah, they knew how to break a Bard. But
you can't grow up on the streets of Shallam without learning a thing or two
about being sneaky."
The Bard slyly slips one of the bars free and squeezes through the widened
opening. He edges stealthily around the stage, ducking behind barrels and crates
while keeping up the rhythm with a subtle tapping of his heels. Even as he
dashes from one obstacle to the next, sometimes slipping around to one side or
the other, sometimes leaping or tumbling in an impressive display of acrobatic
agility, he never seems to miss a beat.
When he sings again, it is without the company of his mandolin, but his tenor
rings clear and confident nonetheless: "Escaping was a breeze because the guards
were rather dull. I jiggled loose the bars and took a tour about the hull. I
found their stash of mutton and I ate 'til I was full."
The backdrop suddenly parts, revealing the rickety stairs leading to the main
deck. The sunlight from above is blocked by a mass of pirate archers.
"But then the heathens tried to put an arrow through my skull!"
The Bard suddenly rolls out of the way of an incoming swarm of arrows as the
surging sound of an orchestra fills the room. He leaps and flips to avoid most
of the projectiles, and even manages to snatch a few from midair before landing
gracefully on his feet. He makes a mad dash for the staircase, placing himself
too near the archers for their weapons to be effective. Landing several
perfectly placed front- and back-handsprings squarely on the chests of his
assailants, the Bard sings above the unseen orchestra as the music returns to
his own rolling theme, playing with far more verve and vigor than his little
mandolin could muster.
"I buckled up my swashes, made my way up to the deck fighting off a hoard of
buccaneers all out to snap my neck. Their defenses lay in shambles, their
fighting skills a wreck."
The Bard stands at the top of the stairs amid a dozen incapacitated archers.
The fanfare suddenly ends with the crash of cymbals and a climactic burst from
the brass section, and the scene falls away entirely, leaving only the bright
blue backdrop of open sea and sky.
"I really had to work to keep my confidence in check," he sings, and casually
buffs his fingernails as the archers-now-stagehands roll away the props and
replace them with the rigging and tack of the ship's main deck. The sturdy mast
thumps to the floor from above, landing at center stage.
"I had taken out the archers, but the fight had just begun. The first and
second mates were coming out to join the fun. Once I had my blade in hand, I
knew the time had come..." He holds out his arm to the side while looking
straight ahead. His rapier drops gracefully from above and lands neatly in his
waiting hand. With an angry scowl he sings, "For me to finish of those pirates
in a swordfight, two on one!"
An elaborately dressed Rajamalan pirate wearing the crest of the first mate
flips lithely onto the stage, waving his feathered hat as he lands. A Xoran in
second mate's regalia drops down from the mast with a look of murder in his
eyes.
The first mate sings, "Mates ahoy! Catch the boy! If he escapes it's our
heads."
The second mate responds, "Mates yo ho! There he goes! Bring him back alive or
dead!"
The Bard brandishes an ornate steel rapier menacingly, whipping it through the
air in front of him. With an elaborate flourish that brings the blade several
times within a hair's breadth of his face and arms, the Bard reveals to all the
world that his prowess is not to be mocked. The first mate chuckles as the Bard
waves his blade about like a madman. Suddenly, he lunges, hoping to catch the
Bard off his guard. The Bard dodges to the left, narrowly avoiding the blow. He
counters with a swift feint to the right and manages to tap the pirate's
shoulder with the tip of his rapier before giving him a sound rap to the
knuckles.
The first mate yelps and clutches his stinging fingers. Scowling at the Bard,
he thrusts, clearly aiming to impale. The Bard performs a graceful backflip,
allowing the blade to swish harmlessly by his boot soles. The second mate sneaks
up behind the Bard and gives him a light tap on the shoulder. As the Bard turns
on his heels to face his new opponent, the pirate lashes out viciously at his
head. The Bard parries the blow and returns with a swift riposte, pulling back
at the last minute so that the tip of his blade just brushes the Rajamala's
lapel. He turns just in time to block a blow from another rapier whistling
through the air towards his neck. The air rings with the sound of steel as the
first mate recoils from his failed attack.
The Bard grips his rapier tightly with both hands, wielding it like a
broadsword. He casts a sly glance to his left and right, sizing up his
opposition as a suspenseful, trembling note arises from the unseen string
section. A bead of sweat rolls down the Xoran's brow as the three stand
motionless aboard the swaying galleon deck. A harsh pounding of the timpani
shatters the tension as all three swashbucklers surge into motion, the air
between them alive with the sounds of clashing rapiers, the thunder of drums,
and the glint of sun on steel. The Bard flashes a carnal grin as the pirates
sidestep around him, slashing and jabbing futilely while he successfully repels
every one of their attempts. From time to time, he lashes out himself, but
always holding back, as though the swordfight were a fencing match.
The Rajamala seems to tire of this game of cat and mouse. His face twists into
a murderous scowl as he makes one last attempt at disarming the captive.
Instead, his chest meets the blunt end of a boot as the Bard thrusts out his leg
with considerable force, sending the first mate flying into a pile of barrels.
He calls out to the first mate, "Maybe you should trade that blade for a mop and
stick to swabbing the deck.
The second mate drops his rapier and backs away, hoping to earn some mercy, but
the Bard rolls his eyes and gives the Xoran a powerful kick to the chest. The
second mate sails through the air above the deck until he collides with the mast
and collapses in a pathetic heap at its base. The Bard dusts himself off
casually and leans against the mast, and the drums fall silent.
The sound of a lone mandolin drifts on the air as he sings in a mournful tone:
"I beat mates with ease, but there was one thing left to find. I couldn't run
away and leave my mandolin behind! But luckily the captain knew just what was on
my mind. He challenged me to one more duel to win back what was mine."
The stage lights drop suddenly to darkness, leaving only the Bard and one other
figure illuminated.
With resolution, the Bard declaims, "And there he was, the captain himself,
leaning casually in the doorframe of his cabin. In his greedy clutches was my
treasured mandolin, just one quick battle away.
The stage lights come up again, revealing a forboding backdrop of storm clouds
over the railings of the ship. The capatin allows a sinister grin to creep over
his features as he holds up the Velprecian mandolin like a fiddle. Slowly and
deliberately, never taking his eyes off the Bard, he raises his rapier to the
strings as a bow. The Bard gasps as the captain draws the blade across the
strings. His poor mandolin cries out in agony, screeching its protest until, at
last, a single string snaps.
The captain stops his fiddling and slings the mandolin across his back. He
steps out from the doorframe, walking with a healthy swagger. "Lousy instrument,
that," he says. "She could use a good tuning."
The Bard grows suddenly still, his face a mask of barely contained rage. His
left eye twitches ever so slightly before he rushes clumsily at the captain,
rapier held high. The sound of drums again accompanies his mad footfalls. With a
terrifying battle roar, the Bard charges at smug and placid human. The captain
raises his own rapier at the last second, deflecting the Bard's tactless attack
with ease. The full orchestra bursts to life with the rousing pirate theme as
their blades meet above their heads. In a flurry of flesh and feathers, the
warriors seem to dance across the deck--their footwork as intricate as their
swordplay--until they reach the main mast.
The Bard grinds his teeth and forces out the notes of a Pesante. The
tunesmithing weaves itself about his blade as his thrusts furiously at the
overbearing captain; but the pirate miraculously dodges the Bard's attack, then
leaps into the air above his head, slices through the rat lines that run from
crow's nest to deck, and watches with amusement as the ropes fall as a net
around the Bard.
He blinks in bewilderment as the ratlines descend on him in a tangled mess. He
attempts to lash out at the captain through the square holes in the rope ladder,
his stabs accompanied by violent peals from the string section, but finds his
rapier arm hopelessly tangled. The captain laughs and calls out to his mates as
the Bard struggles uselessly against the bonds. The Bard collapses to the deck,
writhing frantically to free himself, until finally, his body goes limp as he
concedes victory to his captors.
The captain sings, "Raise your flagons boys, we've got 'im. Yo ho ho!"
The second mate prods the Bard with his toe as his sings, "His spirit's hit
rock bottom. Yo ho ho!"
The first mate sings, "He's only got himself to thank."
All three sing in harmony, closing their eyes as they relish in the sound of
it: "Now let's make him walk the plank!"
The Bard turns towards the audience and winks. He whispers slyly, "Little did
they know I had them just where I wanted them."
The Bard rolls onto his side and somersaults from beneath the overbearing
pirates. Still clutching his rapier, he manages to slice through the ties that
bind him. With great speed and finesse, he cuts loose a balast line and flies
swiftly to the crossbeam of the mast, where he ties the rope securely. The
captain finally opens his eyes to see that his quarry has escaped. He looks up
just in time to see the Bard diving out and away from the crossbeam.
The Bard clutches the balast line in one hand and sails in a sweeping arc
towards the deck below. As he rushes past the captain, he reaches out a deft
hand and snatches the mandolin from his back, absconding once again to his perch
on the crossbeam. He pats the instrument tenderly before taking up the rolling
notes of the pirate theme, playing along with the orchestra.
He sings, "Once I had my mandolin, that left just one thing left to do. I
polished off the captain and his lackeys, one and two. I knocked 'em down an'
tied 'em up, but just before I ran 'em though..."
The Bard stands over the squirming bodies of the bound pirates with the point
of his rapier against the captain's neck. Suddenly, in one swift motion, he
sheathes his rapier and dives gracefully over the edge of the stage, singing, "I
put away my blade and then flew off into the blue."
The stage lights fade to black as the Bard hovers above the audience and the
orchestra joins him in a final triumphant verse.
"'May you live to dread the day,' that mangy pirate captain roared, 'When I
find you while you're sleeping and your liver meets my sword!' I simply smiled
and spread my wings and to the skies I soared."
The Bard strikes one last climactic chord on his mandolin and lands deftly at
the edge of the stage, singing, "I let 'em keep their lives but threw their
lemons overboard!"
[Fin]