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There was once a tune which the god of practical jokes Dryses had put mocking lyrics to and sung to the goddess of music Hephtas, who then cursed the tune so that all who repeated it would have their souls trapped for eternity. But Dryses added to the curse, so that the first to play the tune backwards would have every cursed soul trapped within their body.
In a nondescript village in a country ruled by a normal king a few miles from a traditional forest, a common minstrel played a tune. It was a tune of his own making, but as fate would have it it was the inverse of the tune that had been cursed generations before.
The man convulsed, spoke gibberish, then sat up and began to argue with himself. That was nearly a week ago. Now he is a single minstrel who shares a body with many souls. Usually only one soul takes charge at a time. Some are minstrels, some are folks who happened to hum the wrong ditty. Some souls are strong, and some may only reveal themselves once. What each soul wants and will do when they are in control remains to be seen.
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"You there," Elmond ordered a guard, "why aren't you saluting?" The guard gave him a blank look. "I am Captain Elmond Reaven!" Elmond declared, "now salute!"
The guard let out a hearty laugh. "I don't know who you are, mister, but there hasn't been a Captain Reaven in this town for fifty years."
Elmond was dumbfounded. He knew who he was. He patted his pockets, hoping he carried some sort of proof. There were some coins, a lute...why did he have a lute? Something twitched at the back of his mind. He felt weak. Elmond's conscious faded and another soul took control.
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