The Anointment Day – A Bard’s Ballad of an Ancient Cataleanin Tradition скачать в хорошем качестве

The Anointment Day – A Bard’s Ballad of an Ancient Cataleanin Tradition

Welcome Friend🍻🍻 Tonight the bards bring a quiet and a little sad story. In the lands of the Cataleanins there is a day that comes only once in a lifetime, the Day of Anointment, when the young are welcomed into adulthood. Thanks for the story to ‪@dennisluchesi‬: "Cataleanins are cat race, with tails, fur, whiskers, slit eyes round ears, etc. Two months after a Cataleanin turns fifteen, they both girls and boys undergo a rite of passage into adulthood, the Anointment Day. it is is formal ceremony, followed by a party, with cards and gifts. It always happens on a Saturday. The youth kneels, as an Elder Anoints them with oil. Half-breeds, Cataleanins who are half human are barred for undergoing the rite. Not all Cataleanins feel that way, and fight for change. On the night of his cousin's Anointment Day, a fifteen year old, who lives with his father, who like his family, believes that half-breeds should not undergo the rite. after his human, mother, uncle, and aunt died, goes downstairs and tries on his cousin's Anointment Day clothing, he wore big pleated pants, that went to the knees, with small legs that stopped before the claves. An elbow length sleeved shirt, with nothing around the neck. The clothing is formal, made of cotton-silk. The youth who tried to stay out of the way, found himself in trouble, through no fault of his own. His father smacked him in the face, and used a cane. So his skin is bruised. Towards the end of the song, he says he knows what will happen if he is caught, but also doesn't care. But his eyes, dart nervously. He begins the song with, "This day, this monument, comes once in a young Cataleanin's lifetime." The song is called, "The Anointment Day Song." If you liked the ballad: 👍 leave a like 💬 share your thoughts in the comments 🔔 and subscribe if you'd like to hear more stories from wandering bards. 🎶🎶🎶 In lands where the Cataleanins roam the night, With silver whiskers and moonlit sight, When fifteen summers crown the young, A sacred rite is softly sung. On Anointment Day, the elders stand, With oil of blessing in gentle hand. The young ones kneel in lantern light— A step from childhood into night. This day, this monument, comes once in a lifetime, For every young Cataleanin soul. The oil, the song, the sacred sign— A moment when the heart grows whole. Yet some stand watching from the side, Denied the rite by blood and pride… But still the quiet voices say: “All souls deserve the Anointment Day.” A boy of fifteen watched it all, Half of fur and half of human blood. His mother’s kin were long since gone, And only his father remained alone. The law said no, the line was drawn, No half-blood child could kneel at dawn. But in his heart a quiet flame Refused to bow before that shame. That night his cousin wore the crown Of oil and praise from all around. The hall was loud with gifts and cheer, With laughter ringing bright and clear. The boy gave a card with careful hand, A simple wish he hoped they'd understand. But his cousin laughed and tore it through— And his father’s cane came crashing too. A strike, a bruise, a burning face, Punishment for knowing his place. The music played, the feast went on, But the boy stood silent, bruised and lone. When moon rode high in summer sky, And tavern songs had faded dry, He slipped downstairs through shadowed hall Where ceremonial garments fall. Silk and cotton, gloves and cape, Fine white stockings neatly draped. Pleated trousers to the knee— Clothes he was never meant to see. Yet trembling hands and hopeful breath Dressed him in forbidden dress. Before the quiet silver moon He sang the ancient Anointment tune. Bruised and aching, heart unsure, But standing proud in borrowed fur. His eyes would dart toward the door, For he knew well what lay in store… Yet still his voice rose clear and strong And carried out the sacred song. This day, this monument, comes once in a lifetime, For every young Cataleanin born. Though law may silence some with scorn, The dream of the rite will still be sworn. For hearts remember what they are, No matter how the laws may bar. And somewhere beneath the watching moon, A quiet soul still sings that tune. This day, this monument, comes once in a young Cataleanin's lifetime This day, this monument, comes once in a young Cataleanin's lifetime This day, this monument, comes once in a young Cataleanin's lifetime When the last soft note had drifted away, He laid the sacred clothes to stay. Back to his room, his bruises sore, He wore the night as once before. The cape was gone, the gloves laid by… But the song remained beneath the sky. #FantasyMusic #BardSongs #MedievalMusic #CelticFolk #DnDMusic #FantasyTavern #FantasyBallad #RPGMusic #FantasyStory #Bardcore