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| The Wild Rover (FIN) | |
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| Topic Started: Sun Oct 2, 2011 2:59 am (406 Views) | |
| Shan Orison | Sun Oct 2, 2011 2:59 am Post #1 |
 
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The Broken Strings Inn was, as usual, loud, boisterous, busy, and well lit in utter defiance of the darkness outside. Pipesmoke curled in the high rafters as mugs of ale swung back and forth in time to the song the entire commons room seemed to be singing. Fiddle music played out an accompaniment to the crowd, but against common convention, the player himself wasn't singing along. He seemed content to let the crowd serenade itself, dodging the spray from moving mugs that were a bit too full for such maneuvers. "And it's No, Nay, never, No, nay never no more! Will I play the wild rover? No never no more!" The crowd clapped and laughed at they shouted the last bit of chorus together. Shan Orison, traveling bard, waited for the noise to die down before he spoke, projecting his voice outward for all to hear. "Glad you like that one, and for all of you that don't know it, I'm sure these fine folks ensured at least the chorus is stuck in your heads 'till your grave." The line got a laugh, despite the weakness of it. The room was in high spirits and the beer was flowing free. They were ready to laugh at anything. "Now, I need myself a break and some sup, so I'll leave you with something a bit softer and slower before I let the next group on, because I'm afraid we'll all drown in beer otherwise, with the way everyone's throwing it about." Another laugh. Shan settled on a stool onstage and shut his eyes, letting himself play more by ear and feel. The noise of the crowd died away, and he began to play. He'd heard if a few times north of Norwood, and the melody was a soft, pleasant one. He couldn't sing the lyrics to it, of course, but he had adopted it to the fiddle, letting it sing in his steed. When the last note finished playing, he lifted the mug of water sitting on the floor beside him and lifted it above his head. "A toast!" he yelled out to the quiet room. "A toast!" rang back, tankards lifted to the sky. "Here's to a long life and a merry one, a quick death and an easy one, a pretty girl and an honest one, a cold pint-- and another one!" The crowd laughed and cheered. Shan bowed and descended from the stage as a three man act stepped up and set up their instruments. Shan paid no mind to them and headed to the bar, where the barman set out some stew and a pint of ale to go with Shan's water. "Thank you kindly," Shan said before digging in. This was, overall, quite a nice night for him. Extras
Edited by Shan Orison, Sun Oct 2, 2011 10:20 pm.
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| Tristram | Sun Oct 2, 2011 3:38 am Post #2 |
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The Cascadian streets were slowing their lively pace as the night drew overhead. Merchants packed their wares and closed their stalls, shoppers closing their purses and hefting their purchases. Several children that had been boisterous and playful only moment earlier seemed to be falling into lethargy as they stood waiting for their mother to finish her last deal of the day, handing over a silver and three coppers to the vendor. Taking the payment, the man produced a fine ivory carving of a deer, details fine with room for improvement, but better than average. Thanking him, the woman gathered her youths and made off into the darkness, handing off a bag of bread to the oldest of the children. Nicholas gathered the last of his wares, three thumb-sized figurines of adventurers. Smiling, he slipped them into a wooden box and closed the clasp tightly. Stepping from behind his table, he moved past one of the guards with a long metal rod with a wick and a bell on the end, lighting the lamps along the roads. As he passed, Cole admired the man's uniform, finding himself nostalgic for his own. He had only to walk a block before he could hear the noise of the Inn down the street, chorus of the crowd nearly drowning out the fiddler playing the tune. The crowd was enthusiastic enough, but by no means musicians themselves. Chuckling and shaking his head, the refugee opened the door, greeted by a wave of noise. Counting out his earnings for the day, he frowned as he slipped three silvers into the wooden box, laying them out next to the three figurines and his carving tools. All he was left with was what he'd made from the last customer. The joy in the Broken Strings Inn was too much to simply ignore. He couldn't keep a down mood as he approached the barkeep, handing him a silver. For the rent... And the three coppers For a meal. The barkeep pocketed the money, quietly grabbing an empty bowl and entering the swinging door behind the counter into the kitchen. A clanging of pots sounded as the man shuffled about, returning with a bowl full of clear soup containing several chopped vegetables. You know you can't stay here on this. You're only putting it off, me chuckin ye out on yer arse. The barkeep sounded apologetic, tone gentle with the recovering refugee. It had been made clear previously he didn't want to throw out the man, but would have little choice soon. I know. Thank you. "Now, I need myself a break and some sup, so I'll leave you with something a bit softer and slower before I let the next group on, because I'm afraid we'll all drown in beer otherwise, with the way everyone's throwing it about." Cole glanced the bard's direction before taking up the bowl of soup and weaving his way through the crowd, headed for the stairway. He felt like eating in peace tonight, a silent dinner with himself and the memories of his family. About halfway through the crowd, reaching the section where the patrons began to grow sparse, a deathly chill ran down his spine, shivering as he listened to the song. He knew that lullaby. He'd sung it to his daughter every night before... A painful knot grew in his throat as he choked back a cry, tears forming. Setting the bowl down carelessly, resulting in some of the soup spilling over the edge, he followed suit as he fell into a chair, pulling his hood lower over his face as tears overcame his defenses, fighting to keep his shoulders steady. Elbow on the table, he pinched the bridge of his nose and clenched his teeth. The last notes rang hauntingly in his mind, all he could hear even over the roars of the crowd, even after the bard took his bow from his instrument. For a long moment he sat there, cheap soup going cold, digesting the unexpected experience. Drying his eyes on the edge of his cloak, Cole looked up to find the bard. It had been a long while since he'd heard those notes. Rising, he paused to take his bowl with him. It took him another couple of moments to find the bard, patrons occupied with the entertainers filling the man's break. Taking a seat next to the man, he sipped at his soup with the pewter spoon he'd been provided. That was beautiful. You... Wouldn't happen to remember the words would you? |
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| Shan Orison | Sun Oct 2, 2011 4:49 am Post #3 |
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Shan dug into his stew with gusto as the next band started up again. People shifted to and from the bar as their drinks or bowls emptied. Someone sat next to Shan, but the bard paid more heed to his food until the man began to talk. That was beautiful," he said. "You... Wouldn't happen to remember the words would you? Shan swallowed his last spoonful and turned his head. The hooded man beside him had most of his face cloaked in its own pool of shadow. Only a dark brown beard was really free to enjoy the light of the inn as the man ate a bowl of soup. Shan put his spoon down. "Um, maybe some bits of it. Um...'Hushabye Child, rest through the night'? 'Toola Roola Toola Ray...' no, no that's not it. Sorry, I'm not much of a singer, so I payed more attention to the melody when I heard it. Sorry." Shan planned to take another bite of soup when he realized something. "Wait, you know the song? I've only heard it in a few villages in the west. Huh. Do you know where it's from? I just appreciated it for the melody at the time. Oh, yes, and I'm Shan," Shan said, putting out a hand. "Nice to meet you, Mister..." |
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| Tristram | Sun Oct 2, 2011 5:07 am Post #4 |
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Cole smiled to himself as the bard spoke the first few words. Those, at least, were accurate. Understandable. There are several versions of it, the words change from generation to generation. You forget some of the words as you get older. Fill in the blanks. But you never forget the tune. The man sipped another spoonful of the bland soup, used to the tasteless broth. It filled you well enough, which is what counted. Forgotten half the words myself. It's a Tarisian lullaby. I'm sure you could piece it together if you got enough versions of it together. I guarantee you'll find it in a few tents if you take an evening in the refugee camp. My mother sang it to me, and I sang it to my daughter every night. He chuckled softly. Wife had never heard it before, I suppose the Breedloves never were for Taras tradition, being from Norwood. His focus snapped back to the present, pulling his hood down around his shoulders. Pardon, I'm rambling. Cole extended a hand. Nicholas. You can call me Cole. Or Cale. Whichever tickles your fancy, I don't mind. He shook hands with the bard, noting the musician's grip. Releasing them, he held his hands in his lap for a moment, not in any rush to eat more and trying to figure out what to do with his hands. He'd been introverted so long he could hardly remember how to talk to strangers. Reaching into the pocket of his cloak, he wrapped his fingers around the ivory figurine of a short, wavy-haired girl, clutching it for comfort. |
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| Shan Orison | Sun Oct 2, 2011 2:29 pm Post #5 |
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Shan nodded, thinking back. Yes, he'd come across a few of the refugee camps, little towns of tents and leantos full of people still reeling from the loss of not only their home but their culture. Shan hadn't heard about Taras's destruction before speaking with those huddled around the scattered fires. Before that point, Taras hadn't been more than a fantastic city from the storybook of history. "I'll have to see what I can find out, then. The refugee camps always appreciate entertainment, though its sad what's happened to them...to you, if what you're insinuating is what I think it is. Um, sorry. I only left home less than a year ago, so I never heard of Taras as more than a distant place or, well, what it is now. Sorry, I'm not the best at subtle conversation." Shan stirred his soup idly, hoping he hadn't offended the man inadvertently. "So, how about I buy you a pint as thanks and apology. Barkeep! A pint for my friend, please!" Shan called out. The man behind the bar filled a tankard and set it before Cole, giving the man an odd look. Shan chose to ignore it for now. Shan raised his own tankard a touch. "To music bridging the gaps made by time and distance." He said wryly and took a swallow. "So, you've seen what keeps me occupied. What is it you've been doing to keep yourself busy up here in the clouds?" |
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| Tristram | Sun Oct 2, 2011 3:51 pm Post #6 |
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Nicholas felt a pang of sorrow for those who had lost their homes along with him, their families torn away. It must have been years now, and the rebuild was on its way, but it was a slow process. Many a time the poor souls were mistaken for scavengers as they visited their wrecked homes, trying to sort through the ruins for their valuables. I don't care much for subtle conversation. Dancing around the subject at hand as if it were a hot coal in the bed! He began a deep baritone of a laugh that contradicted his only somewhat-tall size. Reaching for the tankard with glittering eyes, he tapped the bard's and took a drink. Many thanks. I haven't had a good pint in months. Beaming, he wiped a speck of foam from the corner of his mouth. I waste away the time carving whatever ivory I can get my hands on. Selling it to tourists and whatnot for money. He shook his head with a grin. Keep trying for the guard, but I'll be damned if they let me in. Besides, I'm not exactly fond of heights. I'd prefer to get off this island sooner than later. Keep tellin myself i'll go out and have myself a grand adventure, but I don't have so much as a sword and can't afford to get one. He said dreamily. How about you? Had any good adventures you wouldn't mind sharing? Edited by Tristram, Sun Oct 2, 2011 4:02 pm.
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| Shan Orison | Sun Oct 2, 2011 4:31 pm Post #7 |
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Shan felt himself warring with...well, himself. It was a normal feeling however, so Shan was able to keep his outer expression calm. Considering they were in a place where Shan frequented with his tales and songs, it might be best to keep his usual persona of simple minstrel. "As a bard, I do my best to stay away from trouble, but that doesn't mean I don't hear a thing or two. I could share one of those tales, perhaps. Want to hear about the warrior who fought a dragon to defend a lady's honor? How about the tale of the mad druid, or a daring tale of rescue from drow slavers? I even have a pirate story or two in my repertoire. I travel all over and hear a lot, and since I have a stout at hand and food in my belly, I have no problem sharing some with you if you want to hear it, though I'd appreciate a tale in return." |
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| Tristram | Sun Oct 2, 2011 9:16 pm Post #8 |
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I would be quite interested to hear a good pirate story, if you would. Cole scooped several of the boiled vegetables into his spoon, popping them into his mouth. He drew the figurine from his pocket, brushing a piece of balled thread from the hair. It had long been worn smooth by handling, though it was still rough at the bottom, unfinished. Taking another drink, he drained the tankard completely, sliding it to the barkeep with his palm outward. Nodding, the man took it and placed it beneath the bar, moving to the far end to tend to another group of patrons. Swirling the soup in the bottom of the bowl, he cleared his throat. Speaking of it, getting out into the world sounded like just the thing he needed. Being able to break this dry cycle of moving from inn to inn could get his mind off the events of the destruction, off... He bit his lip, trying to dash the thoughts away. Sorry to say I don't have any good stories to tell. Though... |
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| Shan Orison | Sun Oct 2, 2011 9:51 pm Post #9 |
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Shan grinned and cleared his throat. "Well, then, how about a classic tale of an pirate prince seeking treasure via an ancient, enchanted map." Shan launched into storytelling mode as he shared the tale. Of course, the meat of the tale was true, and Shan had been there. However, Shan was a creature who preferred privacy and anonymity. If he was just a purveyor of the tale, people would take the story at face value and think no deeper about the logistics and details. However, if he said he'd actually been an integral part of events, he'd never manage to sleep again, or so he feared. Much better to be a simple bard, he felt, rather than an adventurer. He also kept the pirate captain in question anonymous, feeling Ahriman wouldn't mind not being advertised to any two-bit skirmisher that wanted to prove his mettle against the man. So Ahriman was only called the Pirate Prince or the Captain, his fly ship still flew, but now it was thanks to a living dragon drawing it through the clouds, and his own part was taken over by a talented cabin boy with an accordion. He summarized the tale as best he could, giving a highlight reel of deciphering the musical map, reaching the island of song, the mutiny, and finally the treasure, also fabricated into a simple heap of gems and gold based on a dragon horde he once witnessed. Certainly fascinating, but Shan felt his own cut was worth far more than minerals and hunks of metal. Shan finished his ale, long after Cole had finished his own. "Well, the tale is truly a bit longer when told in full, but I felt you didn't want to be kept here all night, eh? So, heard anything good at all? I'll even accept tales you've told a thousand times earlier. You never know what a new telling will show." "Sorry to say I don't have any good stories to tell," Cole said in self-deprecation, which was either true feigned before a tale of master caliber was shared. "Though..." the man continued. Shan grinned. He knew it. "Though what?" he asked, sliding some coins across the bar to order another round for himself and his friend. "Don't worry, I'm a very open listener. Best trait for a bard, besides being able to string two words together." |
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| Tristram | Mon Oct 3, 2011 12:42 am Post #10 |
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Tristram listened with his chin resting in the cup of his hand, eyes shining as he took in the details of the story, playing it through his mind. Truly, it would not have been so enjoyable had it not been shared by someone any less than a miracle of a storyteller. He found himself chuckling at parts, shaking his head at others. Alas, but if that were true. And believe me, I've certainly got the time. Seems like I have little but, these days. Truly you are a master of your craft, to know such tales and recall them in such detail. He grinned and scratched at the back of his head. Oh, an open listener you may be, but this is some proposition. Cole leaned forward on his stool, taking a sip of his drink. Wiping his lips with the edge of a cloak sleeve, he coughed a little in embarassment. As I said, I know no tales, or at least the ones I do know, the fine points are harder to recall, too much so to bother retelling them. How about instead, we create our own? He suggested, leaning back. Not sit back and discuss a story, flesh it out, but to go and experience our own? The eagerness dripped from his voice. After all, tthere is no better way to gain a new story than to live it out yourself. Edited by Tristram, Mon Oct 3, 2011 12:47 am.
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| Shan Orison | Mon Oct 3, 2011 1:09 am Post #11 |
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Shan sputtered a mouthful of ale back into his mug. He blinked. He turned. He stared. He blinked again and resisted the urge to swivel a finger in his ear. "Excuse me?" he finally asked. He'd caught the man was a refuge. He'd caught he seemed once work as a guard, but what? "That sounds well, um..." Shan sputtered, buying time as he thought. Even if he was a guard, Shan didn't know the man, and well, he usually didn't know any of the people he got involved with, but he also didn't have a choice, normally. Why would he choose to enter into such a thing? Please ask what he has in mind, his curiosity asked. Please, pleasepleaseplease pleeeeeeeeeaaaaaaase ask what he has planned at least. Please? Gods, no, just...no, his second thoughts intervened. Say no, suggest he could blame that silly idea on alcohol, laugh and go on with your visit. Although.... What, no, Bard. No. Let's just hear what he has planned. We can always say no later. ...Fine, His second thoughts conceded. "What, um, what exactly did you have in mind, Cole?" Shan asked, filling the silence between the question and the answer with another mug of ale. Later, he would recall how bad an idea that would be, but only later. |
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| Tristram | Mon Oct 3, 2011 3:42 am Post #12 |
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Tristram watched anxiously as the bard thought it over, chewing on a lip. As the man seemed to give in, he beamed. I... don't have anything in particular in mind. But I do have a start. He took another drink, only halfway through but couldn't find it in himself to finish, setting the tankard back onto the bar. My father kept a journal. Full of adventures and tales; I always thought they were just stories. But I'm not so sure anymore. The way they're written was... odd. He sounded eager. The journal would still be in the wreckage, I was unable to get back into it after the destruction. Everything should be half decomposed now, but the book was kept in a box. He leaned back, watching the bard for a reaction. I know it's a small journey, but hopefully it yields better results. I'd do it myself, but... He averted his eyes I'm not sure I can. |
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| Shan Orison | Mon Oct 3, 2011 11:16 pm Post #13 |
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Shan's face fell blank as the man laid out his plan. It was an interesting plan, to say the least, and at the very least would be an honorable one if it gave the ex-guard some closure or at least a beloved family treasure. Shan didn't bother fighting himself; he knew he was caught. There was such a thing as keeping one's cover, however. He had a reputation in the Broken Strings for being a talented fiddle player and storyteller who would scream at his own shadow. He wasn't going to endanger it unduly now for the sake of his curiosity. "So, let me see if I understand this. You wish to find your father's journal, which is buried in the ruins of Taras, which still occasionally has a bit of a demon problem, if not just a simple looter and marauder problem. You, a man trained as a guard and thus, I assume, trained in the use of armor and weapons of some kind, feel you couldn't make it alone, but, hey, maybe you can if you ask some random fellow in a pub who's nothing bigger on him than a breadknife on him weapon wise and who makes his living singing for his supper." Shan drained the remains of his mug and wiped away the small film of suds. "'M not sayin' your idea is ill thought," he slurred. "Bu' it does suggest a lack o'thinkin' on your part." Shan swept his arm a bit two widely and knocked over Cole's drink. "Omigods, so sorry! Barkeep! Another round!" Shan shouted a bit too loudly. The keep plunked two more ales down. Shan smiled at his own and began drinking again in that intoxicated state where bad ideas begin to sound good, such as having another drink. "Bought ya a replacemen'," Shan said with a grin. "Now we're mates again. Dron...dren...Drink up!" |
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| Tristram | Mon Oct 3, 2011 11:42 pm Post #14 |
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Tristram listened for a moment before reaching for his mug, which was swiftly knocked out of reach and over the bar. Laughing, he lifted a hand, nodding to the barkeep, who pointedly ignored him. That sounds about the gist of it. He shook his head at the man. Shrugging, the keep put the glasses away. I'm done anyhow. And are you sure you should keep drinking? Seems to me you're expected back on stage tonight, or am I mistaken? The refugee chuckled to himself, scratching at his beard and twisting the gold ring on his left hand. So, Shan. What do you think? Care to take an adventure with a stranger? He reached to place a hand on the bard's forearm to stop his drinking. You... really shouldn't keep going... He smiled nervously. In the guardhouse during breaks he'd seen lightweights, usually new guards, who started with drink as a refresher and ended passed out on the floor, unable to keep going. |
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| Shan Orison | Tue Oct 4, 2011 12:37 am Post #15 |
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"Nah," Shan said to Cole's worry. "So many people wanna play here, ev'ryone only gets a set time t'play. I'm free." Then Cole suggested he stop drinking. Shan, if was in a better state of mind, would have been rational and agree that drinking away the money he earned was a poor way to be rid of the extra coin. Shan wasn't rational, however. Shan was drunk, and ancestral memory buoyed by drink took umbrage at Cole's words. "Are you sayin' I can't handle my liquor?" he asked, his tone turning dark. "I can handle it better than any pansyfoot in here, thankyouverymuch. My ancestors were fine drinkers, or I think they were...My mum might've been full of it. Still! I'm jus' fine. An' if you thin' I can't, I challenge you t'a drinkin' contest. I'll drink you and ev'ryone here under th'table!" "Alright, that does it," the head barkeep said, stepping back over. "I'm cutting you off, Orison." "Wha? You can't do that!" Shan protested. "Yes I can. I'm not having another call go out to the healer to deal with alcohol overdose just because you decided to get into another drinking contest. I'll let you stay here, but only if you stop now," The barkeep continued. "Are you sayin' I can't hold my drink either, Alfred?" Shan said, standing up. "I'm saying you need to sleep it off, Orison. Sir, I'm sorry to ask this off you, but could you please make sure he gets upstairs?" Alfred asked, turning to Cole. "He'll drop off if you can just get him in bed. He can have the room up the stairs and third down on the left." "'m fine and I c'n drink this place dry." "Yes, Orison, and you've no need to prove that," Alfred said, removing Shan's half empty tankard. "I'm only doing this for you since you're normally not an idiot and pull in some good revenue. I really am sorry, sir," he said, switching back to Cole. "I'd have one of the staff take him up, but we're a bit busy at the moment. You can have the room next to him to compensate for the inconvenience. No charge." "....'S'long we're all clear I c'n hold m'liquor," Shan slurred, sitting down again. |
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5:28 PM May 22
