I think I may have gone a bit too far...
"Legends tell of bards whose words and voices could make the very gods weep. Weep in understanding, for a fleeting moment, of what it was to be mortal. No one speaks of these legends anymore. No one knows them. Even the very nature of legends is fading into myth, and myth to dust. Gather round the harsh glare of your computer screen, as our ancestors did around the warm, life-giving glow of fire, and let me tell you the tale of Lily FlameHeart. Tis a long tale, and not yet complete. We start our story when FlameHeart was but a spark. She had just set out to make a name for herself, not realizing she was going to set the world aflame. A cold, frigid world that had all but forgotten what warmth was...
At this point in her life, she not only knew many a song from the famous bards that had come before her, but she had crafted many of her own as well. One of which was ready for the world. One fleeting ember drifting in search of tinder to ignite in the hearts of man. She played that one song for the first time in a crowded taproom on the edge of town. "The Eye of Tune" it was called. The kind of place you'd find thugs and cutpurses, beggars and sellswords. All with hearts cold as ice ,and hard as bedrock.She stepped up onto the small stage, as it became apparent she was there to play, the crowd began to murmur and laugh.
Then she began.
It started slow, with a strum and a hum, moving through the crowd and quieting even the most rowdy patron. Then the song began in full, what had been moving through the room now filled it to the point of ignition. Drink spilled down chins, and food was left forgotten as they recalled what had once made them each feel warm, and why that warmth had left. She continued to play, not letting the silence deter her. It didn't stay silent for long. Things come alive when heat is applied, and that's true two-fold for a frozen heart.
A great scuffling and shuffling began as everyone sought to get closer to this bringer of light. Well, not everyone. Some chose instead to slip out the back in the commotion. Not all love light and warmth. She finished the song with a flourish and a bow. There was no roaring applause, no standing ovation. All she saw were shocked faces and welling tears. She didn't despair though, for tears can speak much louder than applause and empty words, for it's the icemelt of the heart. She had done her job. She packed up and left, leaving the heartsore, blubbering room to it's thoughts.
The thing about fire is it spreads, slowly at first, but it gains momentum greater than any force in this world. Before the end of the week many had heard the tale of her playing and were eager to hear more from her. Those that were in attendance re-told the tale of her playing and said they'd give their five fingers to hear her again. They even paid the town crier to roar out where she would be playing so everyone could here. They did hear.
And so it began..."