When people see bardic magic, they think it's some kind of "music of the spheres" nonsense. Like the world is listening for just the right poem and it'll flood you with power like life was some kind of poetry contest. No. Bardic magic is like any other kind of magic. You need focus, study, a bone-deep understanding of your art, and a spark to get it going. I spent a decade studying music and arcane magic at the College. I spent another bumming my way across Creation with nothing more than my trumpet and a song in my step. I learned to keep my head in the middle of a crowded bar, how to calm a violent crowd, how to turn riot into revelry. So when the College called for graduates to come help out to defend its home soil, I saw it as a great opportunity to show off what I had learned.
We looked an odd bunch, strolling up to the forlorn warcamp. Myself with a trumpet, an old friend of mine with a barrel-sized drum, some young one with this high-pitched electrical doo-dad... I could understand why we didn't seem exactly helpful. But they knew we had magic, and they weren't in any position to turn us away.
We spaced ourselves out on the field, it wouldn't do to have our music overlap. The soldiers around me shot me looks as I warmed up. Some annoyed, some sneering, some just terrified at the battle ahead. None of them expected to live long, I could tell. But I relished their attention all the same. Someone annoyed at my trumpet's hooting was someone not thinking about their imminent death.
The enemy came marching in just after dawn. I started playing in earnest, a rousing tune with just a hint of magic to wake up our soldiers and buoy their spirits. Not much on an individual level, but across a hundred? It'd buy me the time I needed. I couldn't afford to give them any more at that scale; when your magic targets an army, you can't just be powerful, you need to be efficient. A glance around told me that whatever their opinion of my music, they were listening. Good.
See, the real secret of bardic magic? The real core that makes it work? It's not that we've tapped into some primal heartbeat, it's not a secret song flowing through creation. We have knowledge, instinct, and a magical spark. But that fourth ingredient? The superhuman focus needed to control incredibly powerful magic? No one ever said you had to focus alone. And what makes people focus more than hearing a great tune?
I felt the people all around me listening to my song. Mental magic at scale is difficult, but it's much easier when you're just changing something small. "This is a good song" can become "listening is more important than killing" without much effort. With each mental touch, the hundreds of minds that surrounded me paid a bit more attention to my song, lending focus to my power, shaping the spell for me. Soon, all of their hearts beat in time. The sounds of battle faded, and I noticed with collegiate pride that my colleagues were having similar success. The music swirled and built, mesmerizing soldiers on both sides before coming to a grand crescendo, the slowly-modified thoughts of the combatants crafted to a single magical point: a compulsion to put down arms and embrace each other as friends. To dance and sing together, to throw themselves into a grand celebration of life.
By the next morning, none of the soldiers who had come to invade were willing to touch a weapon again. The raw power of a day-long party gave us the power to make permanent and lasting changes to their outlook, and none of them was willing to keep fighting such a clearly immoral war. They were effectively routed, and would undoubtedly tell their fellow soldiers back home what happened, that they were done with killing. A victory won not just today, but for many days in the future.
And now, when a warlord comes knocking, they know that when they see an army accompanied by an unarmed person wearing no uniform and carrying nothing but a musical instrument, they should turn around and fight another day, lest they never fight ever again.
DuckTapeAI t1_j617hbl wrote
Reply to [WP] A prestigious Bard College has decided to lend their aid to a losing nation in a brutal conflict. Time to show the world what a 'War Band' can do, and it's showtime on the front lines. by mage_in_training
When people see bardic magic, they think it's some kind of "music of the spheres" nonsense. Like the world is listening for just the right poem and it'll flood you with power like life was some kind of poetry contest. No. Bardic magic is like any other kind of magic. You need focus, study, a bone-deep understanding of your art, and a spark to get it going. I spent a decade studying music and arcane magic at the College. I spent another bumming my way across Creation with nothing more than my trumpet and a song in my step. I learned to keep my head in the middle of a crowded bar, how to calm a violent crowd, how to turn riot into revelry. So when the College called for graduates to come help out to defend its home soil, I saw it as a great opportunity to show off what I had learned.
We looked an odd bunch, strolling up to the forlorn warcamp. Myself with a trumpet, an old friend of mine with a barrel-sized drum, some young one with this high-pitched electrical doo-dad... I could understand why we didn't seem exactly helpful. But they knew we had magic, and they weren't in any position to turn us away.
We spaced ourselves out on the field, it wouldn't do to have our music overlap. The soldiers around me shot me looks as I warmed up. Some annoyed, some sneering, some just terrified at the battle ahead. None of them expected to live long, I could tell. But I relished their attention all the same. Someone annoyed at my trumpet's hooting was someone not thinking about their imminent death.
The enemy came marching in just after dawn. I started playing in earnest, a rousing tune with just a hint of magic to wake up our soldiers and buoy their spirits. Not much on an individual level, but across a hundred? It'd buy me the time I needed. I couldn't afford to give them any more at that scale; when your magic targets an army, you can't just be powerful, you need to be efficient. A glance around told me that whatever their opinion of my music, they were listening. Good.
See, the real secret of bardic magic? The real core that makes it work? It's not that we've tapped into some primal heartbeat, it's not a secret song flowing through creation. We have knowledge, instinct, and a magical spark. But that fourth ingredient? The superhuman focus needed to control incredibly powerful magic? No one ever said you had to focus alone. And what makes people focus more than hearing a great tune?
I felt the people all around me listening to my song. Mental magic at scale is difficult, but it's much easier when you're just changing something small. "This is a good song" can become "listening is more important than killing" without much effort. With each mental touch, the hundreds of minds that surrounded me paid a bit more attention to my song, lending focus to my power, shaping the spell for me. Soon, all of their hearts beat in time. The sounds of battle faded, and I noticed with collegiate pride that my colleagues were having similar success. The music swirled and built, mesmerizing soldiers on both sides before coming to a grand crescendo, the slowly-modified thoughts of the combatants crafted to a single magical point: a compulsion to put down arms and embrace each other as friends. To dance and sing together, to throw themselves into a grand celebration of life.
By the next morning, none of the soldiers who had come to invade were willing to touch a weapon again. The raw power of a day-long party gave us the power to make permanent and lasting changes to their outlook, and none of them was willing to keep fighting such a clearly immoral war. They were effectively routed, and would undoubtedly tell their fellow soldiers back home what happened, that they were done with killing. A victory won not just today, but for many days in the future.
And now, when a warlord comes knocking, they know that when they see an army accompanied by an unarmed person wearing no uniform and carrying nothing but a musical instrument, they should turn around and fight another day, lest they never fight ever again.