Property of @Gwynn for she is my lady.
I give bonuses with my songs in the Chat, because that is what a Bard must do.
NidTheBard joined on Oct 12th, 2013, since that has made 95 posts that are still accessible today, 2 of which are threads. Helping shape the community, NidTheBard has given 169 upvotes, and was last online on Jun 1st, 2019.
Aww... Thanks, DC. <3
Lurking for almost a year before suddenly deciding to post again (possibly causing people to remember you exist), and then deciding to Lurk once more...
Lurk some where else, I guess.
I return to lurking.
For some reason, @Lieutenant reminds me of a Koala Bear...
Drumming with everything I've got, occasionally doing some twirls and tosses with my drumsticks, keeping up the tempo as I go. Finally reaching the finale, I do a frontflip, twirl in the air, and slam down the sticks on the cymbals, letting them ring before I usher everything back into the Portable Hole, and fold it into a neat triangle. I collect my trenchcoat and whistle for something to drink.
Letting out a short yawn before waltzing over on light feet to the stage, I remove the black handkerchief from a pocket and toss off my trenchcoat to the side. I begin unfolding the fabric into an irrational size and then lay it across the found. After that has been done, I reach inside the hole and pull out pieces of a drum kit, and begin to set them up appropriately. "Magic drumsticks may be easy to transport, but nothing beats the feeling of playing the real deal. Well, except for the Surreal Deal, but that's just obvious." After everything is polished and set up, I take my place in the ring of percussion and start in on some light jazz eventually leading into full Rock, where I play my heart out.
Emerging from what is obviously the janitorial closet, I smoke from a very small, yet expensive-looking pipe, humming a tune as I walk. Although the door closes before the others can get a really good look inside, there appeared to be a city behind me, and not the usual small room cramped full of cleaning supplies. Finishing the last puff from my pipe, I give it a thorough cleaning and place it in a case, which quickly finds it's way into my trenchcoat, before ordering a breakfast of eggs, sausage, bacon, hot links, beans, and toast. "I'm watching my figure," I kindly speak to @Kip as @123-456-7890 attempts to hand me a drink that I've never laid eyes upon before, yet accept only to have it rest next to me.