For years people had told me I should be writing down my
adventures and trying to get them published, but I just didn’t have the
confidence to try. If you try, and fail,
your dream is dead. If you never try,
you never fail, and your dream never dies.
It’s kinda emo, and a total cop-out loser philosophy; but it’s one I had
all through my 20’s.
When I got a little older two major things changed. I stopped playing AD&D 2nd
Edition, because 3rd edition came out and I WAS NOT buying all those
freaking books again. I started playing
Call of Cthulhu as my main RPG. The
other major change in my life was entering the world of Medieval Reenacting. Yes, for several years I got dressed up in medieval
garb, ate weird food, became an archer, fought in a reenactment of the battle
of Hastings (as a Saxon Archer, we lost, again… L ) I
stormed castles, shot arrows, became the Baron of Tyre, a royal Seneschal and
the Captain of Archers. I was known as Mateo Luna.
The thing that I am most proud of during my life as Mateo
Luna was bardcraft. I entered the
bardic guild, quickly rising through the ranks to become a master bard, and then
the Master of the Bardic Guild. I didn’t
sing, or play music, like other bards. I
was just a story teller. Bardcraft came
easy to me, in the classic Celtic sense.
Bards were part of the Druidic Faith; they were the voice, living
history and spirit of their people. They
were guides and teachers, the living connection between the three worlds. It was taboo to harm a bard, for fear what
they could do to your reputation with satire.
A bard could turn a warrior into a king, and a king into a mythical
figure. I loved being a bard, I learned
how to tell a story, how to hold an audience, how to pace things, and I started
writing my own stories and satires. Dressing in a full length tunic, telling an
ancient celtic story to a packed hall lit by hundreds of candles was magic, and
several times I felt the power of the ancient druidic faith flowing through me. I guess most artists feel that way when they
are in the zone.
But few, if any, found bardcraft as interesting as I
did. For many the re-enactment group was
a place to socialize, to put on armor, grab a stick wrapped in duck tape and
beat on people weaker than themselves.
The group had a lot of bullies, both intellectually and physically. For
example, I had prepared for weeks to take my bardic trials, which had to be
judged by the three sitting masters. One
of the three masters left the event early after he spent several hours fighting
in armor. He just left… sorry Mateo, I
got better things to do... maybe next event.
Then the end came. I
was at an event, telling a story. The
room was filled with people, many of whom had spent the day fighting mock
battles. One woman, a stocky fighter
bigger than most of the men at arms, began talking louder and louder at her
table. She was drunk, stinking and
unwashed from her battle, and angry.
Soon she was yelling across her table, and then yelling at me, telling
me to tell my story more quietly because the people at her table were trying to
have a conversation.
If we were going by the rules she would have NEVER DARED do
such a thing to a bard. I should have
written the worst, more horrific parody of her for the next event, shaming her
and tarnishing her name for all time.
But she was a “fighter” and the group would have never allowed it. She was “important”, I was not. To this day it makes me angry, as a bard I
curse her name, even though I no longer remember it. I still think of that horrific, disgusting
woman, screaming drunkenly at me in her dirty stinking tunic. She remains one
of the most revolting people I have ever encountered in my entire life. Bards are trained to feel, everything around
them, deeply, to be raw nerves and open to the world around them even at the
emotional cost to their own well being. I left the group and medieval reenactment altogether,
shortly thereafter. Baron Mateo Luna was
dead; there was no place in the Kingdom of Acre for me any longer.
But I’d learned so much.
I was a bard, spiritually connected to the cosmic forces of
creation. In my heart I’d always be a
bard, I had stories to tell and lessons to teach. I started writing, in a serious manner, and
was soon publishing Call of Cthulhu scenarios.
I never lost the bards love of history, the art and magic of storytelling
or the importance of teaching through my art.
I stopped being Mateo Luna, I started being Oscar Rios, I never gave up
thinking of myself as a Bard.
No comments:
Post a Comment