Zargon was not feeling well, his mind engulfed in the fires of painful memories and confusion that is all too common amongst those of the bardic bent. As his friends prepared to leave for their return to the Undercity he let them know he would be staying back in his room at the inn to rest, feigning the beginnings of a mild illness. Once the others left Zargon laid down upon his bed. His weary, anxiety riddled mind could find no quarter in the confines of the room. He could feel the walls closing in on him. Heart racing, sweat coming down his forehead, Zargon felt he was finally going to snap. He had come close to this point after the keravela when he learned of Zeb and Audric’s time travel, but never before had he feared that he was losing his mental faculties as at that moment, trapped alone with his thoughts in a Mirabarran inn.
The bard knew he had to act quickly or he would perhaps permanently become mad. His heart was thumping fast. He got up and went for his bag to reach for an elixir that had been given to him by a drifter friend of his before his run in with the dwarves. The friend owed Zargon a favor and repaid it with a mysterious elixir meant to calm the nerves. The friend warned him however that while it would take him to a place of serenity, it could also have some “other” side effects. At this moment Zargon knew he would have to take the drink. He gulped down the ugly green brew and laid down his weary head in anticipation of desperately needed peace.
Zargon closed his eyes and began breathing deeply. After about ten minutes he noticed that his hands were no longer clenched and his teeth had loosened their grip upon one another. The sweating had stopped and he began to feel his faculties return to him. Whatever debt that his friend owed him was paid as far as Zargon was concerned, and aren’t friends just lovely? Every word out of the mouth of a beloved friend is like the reds and oranges and pinks that make up the kaleidoscope of colors in a glorious sunset. An embrace from a loved one can lift a man to another realm, far apart from the pain and suffering that sometimes finds us all. But is not pain one of the intrinsic beauties of this world? Would the sunshine be as brilliant without the juxtaposition of darkest night? As Zargon lay in his bed he could feel himself becoming one with everything. As a passing troubadour walked along the street outside Zargon was entranced by every elongated note of the man’s lute. Each note leading into the other in a symphony of love and harmony. He envisioned vibrant colors pulsing in rhythm to the beat of the music. After a few moments he opened his eyes and the colorful lights were there before him! He went to the window and his eyes met the glory of the clouds in all their splendor. My how his spirits had taken a turn in twenty minutes! He soon became tired and returned to the bed to rest.
Zargon opened his eyes after laying down and found himself in a small room in the part of Mirabar that is populated by gamblers, drifters, whores, con artists and bards. He looked over to his left and gazed at the sleeping Falaeira. Her peaceful slumber always set his heart on fire with the giddiness of love that he never wanted, or thought he did not want. The rambling man Zargon had spent his time traveling the country earning a good living and quite a name for himself, always able to find company from whatever woman he wanted in a pub without resorting to the paid variety. Like most bards he had no intentions of settling down or starting a family. Part of that was the difficulties in his poor Mirabarran upbringing, stealing bread as a child for a family torn asunder by the demons of the bottle ravaging his father, leaving his mother to raise the four of them alone. Zargon soon escaped into the delights of singing, dancing, gambling, and women to fill the void. In the twenty or so years since he began the life of a bard when he was fifteen he never found someone who lit him up the way Falaeira had over the course of this past year, and he knew that he was not going to be alone for much longer.
Upon her waking Falaeira turned to Zargon and let him know that she would be leaving town for a day or two to visit her sister in a small town to the south. Since Zargon would be doing an important show that weekend he would unfortunately not be able to make the trip with her. The well-off bard had no money saved, but his success in singing and storytelling meant he was never bereft of a good amount of gold. He gave her enough to cover the hiring of an escort to travel and embraced her as she left for the weekend. Every time she walked away from him for a day or more he could feel a thousand daggers cut into him, but when she returned he had a surprise: he would finally propose marriage to the gorgeous young seamstress. After dressing for the night’s performance he too left the small room where they lived and headed for the other side of Mirabar, where he would be performing and sleeping for the weekend.
After the long walk to the pub he was ready to have a few drinks and perform. Much to his shock though the pub was boarded up. How could this be? The bard became confused and angry, this two-night stay was going to make him quite a bit of coin and help him to cement his status as a rising voice in the Mirabarran bardic community. He walked about a block down the road and flagged down a member of the Axe of Mirabar. “Excuse me sir, but why is the famous Silver Serpent boarded up as if it were no more?” exclaimed the puzzled Zargon. “Well friend, when you try to cheat the city out of her due in taxes the city comes out with some wood and a whole lot of nails to teach you a lesson! Now be on your way, bard!” Zargon was infuriated. He decided to make the best of the evening and walk to his favorite local pub in the part of town where he and Falaeira lived and spend the night drinking and gambling. In two hours time it would be about 11, the perfect time to catch the best of the city.
As Zargon got closer to his favorite pub he decided to return to his room and put away his instrument and costume. No need to lug those around since he now had the weekend off. He walked up the steps and unlocked the door. What he saw as he entered nearly blinded him. An overwhelming sense of unbearable, surreal terror and sadness overcame him as he watched his beloved Falaeira in the act of love with another man! She was covered in sweat as the naked lovers were in the middle of their business. Falaeira turned to him and screamed “Zargon! What happened to your show?” The bard was silenced by his sadness, shock, and anger. The tall man who was standing naked behind her with his hand around her hips quickly interjected, “Quiet woman, finish the service for which you have been paid! And tell your costumed friend to leave because if he is still here after I spray in you he will breathe his last breath!” Zargon ran out the door in tears, unable to stand being there regardless of the angry interloper’s words of caution. Five minutes later the man walked past Zargon smiling. “Never shack up with a whore, boy. They will rob you and leave you for dead without warning.”
After the nameless man who destroyed the bard’s world was out of sight, the fallen angel Falaeira came outside for Zargon with a smile on her face. “Why the look of shock and dejection, Zargon. Did you actually think I was a seamstress?” The bard responded “I did Falaeira, and even if you were that kind before, why now when I have given you all the coin you could ever need, would you continue to live this life?” She responded, “I did not want to tell you as it was not of your concern, and I did not stop because I enjoy it for what it is. Until I actually find one I love, if I ever do, I will continue to enjoy all the pleasures of Mirabar.” With those words the bard felt the agony of a thousand heartaches. He had been used. As she gathered her things and left for the last time, the bard could feel his world ending, destroyed by the lies of the snake Falaeira and the nameless John.
Zargon quickly drank more than six or seven men’s share of booze and headed to the pub to gamble. He could not bear to stay in the room that still smelled of the harlot’s lovemaking and lies. He chanced upon a group of dwarves in the corner of the bar. The dreaded, hateful, avaricious little mutant men who won’t die. Zargon’s mind twisted by rage, unbearable sadness, and alcohol he was soon many gold coins down to the head dwarf. Sensing the bard was not in a good way, the dwarf made an offer to Zargon “Before you wind up in the mines, bard, perhaps we can make a deal. I see that beautiful gold and diamond ring you have been handling all night. Why not just give me that and we can call it a night?” Zargon’s eyes turned red with the fires of hell as he lunged at the dwarf. “You mutant little fuck! How dare you! That was for Falaeira. I’d rather spend a lifetime in the mines with your awful kind than see her ring in the gnarled, disgusting finger of what you call a “woman.” I wouldn’t seed one of your women even if she shaved her beard! The one on her face!” The dwarf smiled with delight, as a host of his companions grabbed the drunken, crying bard. “Then you shall spend a lifetime with us, boy. Your debt is enormous, many years worth of gold, and you have slapped away my kindness. I will take the ring for starters and you will come with us to the Undercity tomorrow.”
Zargon awoke in his bed drenched in sweat with tears running down his face. His body ached and the sheets were torn into pieces. He noticed blood coming from his chest where he had scratched at himself. His head throbbing, he walked to the window of the room above the Mirabarran pub and noticed the same lute player from before. He realized slowly that the hell that he just went through was but a vision of his past, a shockingly real, painfully vivid one. At this point he knew what he must do: he had to remain in Mirabar and earn coin to start repaying the devil’s debt, a debt that was only transferred never settled. He would tell the others of his full story, not in such vivid detail, and he would begin to take jobs to settle the score with his friends. He would also find Seirsha, because maybe a night with a woman would ease his troubled mind.
The bard knew he had to act quickly or he would perhaps permanently become mad. His heart was thumping fast. He got up and went for his bag to reach for an elixir that had been given to him by a drifter friend of his before his run in with the dwarves. The friend owed Zargon a favor and repaid it with a mysterious elixir meant to calm the nerves. The friend warned him however that while it would take him to a place of serenity, it could also have some “other” side effects. At this moment Zargon knew he would have to take the drink. He gulped down the ugly green brew and laid down his weary head in anticipation of desperately needed peace.
Zargon closed his eyes and began breathing deeply. After about ten minutes he noticed that his hands were no longer clenched and his teeth had loosened their grip upon one another. The sweating had stopped and he began to feel his faculties return to him. Whatever debt that his friend owed him was paid as far as Zargon was concerned, and aren’t friends just lovely? Every word out of the mouth of a beloved friend is like the reds and oranges and pinks that make up the kaleidoscope of colors in a glorious sunset. An embrace from a loved one can lift a man to another realm, far apart from the pain and suffering that sometimes finds us all. But is not pain one of the intrinsic beauties of this world? Would the sunshine be as brilliant without the juxtaposition of darkest night? As Zargon lay in his bed he could feel himself becoming one with everything. As a passing troubadour walked along the street outside Zargon was entranced by every elongated note of the man’s lute. Each note leading into the other in a symphony of love and harmony. He envisioned vibrant colors pulsing in rhythm to the beat of the music. After a few moments he opened his eyes and the colorful lights were there before him! He went to the window and his eyes met the glory of the clouds in all their splendor. My how his spirits had taken a turn in twenty minutes! He soon became tired and returned to the bed to rest.
Zargon opened his eyes after laying down and found himself in a small room in the part of Mirabar that is populated by gamblers, drifters, whores, con artists and bards. He looked over to his left and gazed at the sleeping Falaeira. Her peaceful slumber always set his heart on fire with the giddiness of love that he never wanted, or thought he did not want. The rambling man Zargon had spent his time traveling the country earning a good living and quite a name for himself, always able to find company from whatever woman he wanted in a pub without resorting to the paid variety. Like most bards he had no intentions of settling down or starting a family. Part of that was the difficulties in his poor Mirabarran upbringing, stealing bread as a child for a family torn asunder by the demons of the bottle ravaging his father, leaving his mother to raise the four of them alone. Zargon soon escaped into the delights of singing, dancing, gambling, and women to fill the void. In the twenty or so years since he began the life of a bard when he was fifteen he never found someone who lit him up the way Falaeira had over the course of this past year, and he knew that he was not going to be alone for much longer.
Upon her waking Falaeira turned to Zargon and let him know that she would be leaving town for a day or two to visit her sister in a small town to the south. Since Zargon would be doing an important show that weekend he would unfortunately not be able to make the trip with her. The well-off bard had no money saved, but his success in singing and storytelling meant he was never bereft of a good amount of gold. He gave her enough to cover the hiring of an escort to travel and embraced her as she left for the weekend. Every time she walked away from him for a day or more he could feel a thousand daggers cut into him, but when she returned he had a surprise: he would finally propose marriage to the gorgeous young seamstress. After dressing for the night’s performance he too left the small room where they lived and headed for the other side of Mirabar, where he would be performing and sleeping for the weekend.
After the long walk to the pub he was ready to have a few drinks and perform. Much to his shock though the pub was boarded up. How could this be? The bard became confused and angry, this two-night stay was going to make him quite a bit of coin and help him to cement his status as a rising voice in the Mirabarran bardic community. He walked about a block down the road and flagged down a member of the Axe of Mirabar. “Excuse me sir, but why is the famous Silver Serpent boarded up as if it were no more?” exclaimed the puzzled Zargon. “Well friend, when you try to cheat the city out of her due in taxes the city comes out with some wood and a whole lot of nails to teach you a lesson! Now be on your way, bard!” Zargon was infuriated. He decided to make the best of the evening and walk to his favorite local pub in the part of town where he and Falaeira lived and spend the night drinking and gambling. In two hours time it would be about 11, the perfect time to catch the best of the city.
As Zargon got closer to his favorite pub he decided to return to his room and put away his instrument and costume. No need to lug those around since he now had the weekend off. He walked up the steps and unlocked the door. What he saw as he entered nearly blinded him. An overwhelming sense of unbearable, surreal terror and sadness overcame him as he watched his beloved Falaeira in the act of love with another man! She was covered in sweat as the naked lovers were in the middle of their business. Falaeira turned to him and screamed “Zargon! What happened to your show?” The bard was silenced by his sadness, shock, and anger. The tall man who was standing naked behind her with his hand around her hips quickly interjected, “Quiet woman, finish the service for which you have been paid! And tell your costumed friend to leave because if he is still here after I spray in you he will breathe his last breath!” Zargon ran out the door in tears, unable to stand being there regardless of the angry interloper’s words of caution. Five minutes later the man walked past Zargon smiling. “Never shack up with a whore, boy. They will rob you and leave you for dead without warning.”
After the nameless man who destroyed the bard’s world was out of sight, the fallen angel Falaeira came outside for Zargon with a smile on her face. “Why the look of shock and dejection, Zargon. Did you actually think I was a seamstress?” The bard responded “I did Falaeira, and even if you were that kind before, why now when I have given you all the coin you could ever need, would you continue to live this life?” She responded, “I did not want to tell you as it was not of your concern, and I did not stop because I enjoy it for what it is. Until I actually find one I love, if I ever do, I will continue to enjoy all the pleasures of Mirabar.” With those words the bard felt the agony of a thousand heartaches. He had been used. As she gathered her things and left for the last time, the bard could feel his world ending, destroyed by the lies of the snake Falaeira and the nameless John.
Zargon quickly drank more than six or seven men’s share of booze and headed to the pub to gamble. He could not bear to stay in the room that still smelled of the harlot’s lovemaking and lies. He chanced upon a group of dwarves in the corner of the bar. The dreaded, hateful, avaricious little mutant men who won’t die. Zargon’s mind twisted by rage, unbearable sadness, and alcohol he was soon many gold coins down to the head dwarf. Sensing the bard was not in a good way, the dwarf made an offer to Zargon “Before you wind up in the mines, bard, perhaps we can make a deal. I see that beautiful gold and diamond ring you have been handling all night. Why not just give me that and we can call it a night?” Zargon’s eyes turned red with the fires of hell as he lunged at the dwarf. “You mutant little fuck! How dare you! That was for Falaeira. I’d rather spend a lifetime in the mines with your awful kind than see her ring in the gnarled, disgusting finger of what you call a “woman.” I wouldn’t seed one of your women even if she shaved her beard! The one on her face!” The dwarf smiled with delight, as a host of his companions grabbed the drunken, crying bard. “Then you shall spend a lifetime with us, boy. Your debt is enormous, many years worth of gold, and you have slapped away my kindness. I will take the ring for starters and you will come with us to the Undercity tomorrow.”
Zargon awoke in his bed drenched in sweat with tears running down his face. His body ached and the sheets were torn into pieces. He noticed blood coming from his chest where he had scratched at himself. His head throbbing, he walked to the window of the room above the Mirabarran pub and noticed the same lute player from before. He realized slowly that the hell that he just went through was but a vision of his past, a shockingly real, painfully vivid one. At this point he knew what he must do: he had to remain in Mirabar and earn coin to start repaying the devil’s debt, a debt that was only transferred never settled. He would tell the others of his full story, not in such vivid detail, and he would begin to take jobs to settle the score with his friends. He would also find Seirsha, because maybe a night with a woman would ease his troubled mind.
The following night, Zargon continues to ply his trade at the Rusty Sword, scrounging what little copper he can from its patrons. In truth, there's never been much coin to be garnered from the low-wage mining class and tight-pursed dwarves of Mirabar, but if nothing else, performing in a crowded, raucous taproom provides the bard with some much-needed respite from the physical and emotional turmoil of the previous months, along with a reasonable opportunity to hone his craft.
ReplyDeleteAt the far end of the tavern, Seirsha enters, quietly and discreetly claiming a seat at the same table she occupied yestereve, thick robes concealing the supple figure underneath, lest she draw more attention than desired. Mirabar, for its faults, does well to stifle crime and unrest among its populace; city-goers know that the soldiery, while ultimately protectors of both honor and wealth, are swift to enforce justice where it must be served to maintain order. As such, aside from a spattering of lewd glances that she does not return, the majority of drunken revelers pay the young woman little mind.
His complement of melodies completed and his voice and mind alike in much need of renewing of ale, Zargon approaches, slowly, and with intent.
"I have no children," she utters matter-of-factly, shying even to raise her eyes to meet those of the wayward performer. "But I am a widow. My husband was a miner. What he left me... helped me survive for a year and more. He was a good man, an honest man. Now, though, I have nothing. I've given thought to what you said, of the keep along the river to the north and the people living there."
She shifts uncomfortably, as if revealing herself in this way is taking a great toll upon her being. Yet, she continues. "I've no skills and little coin. I cannot sew, nor cook, nor even so much as milk a goat. But I'd be willing to learn."
Zargon paused and looked at the ground for a moment. The events of the previous year had made the normally quick on the uptake bard a little less quick, and he needed to think of what to say. He looked up at Seirsha and said in a soft, slow tone "I too have lost someone close to me recently, and the pain was like knives into me. Perhaps I have steeled myself since then. I ask nothing more of you than honesty and a desire to work, as you have stated you are willing to do. For tonight however I will provide you with song, drink, and a temporary respite from the storm. Let us tie our battered ships to shore for one evening and forget our troubles.
ReplyDelete"Aye," the woman replies, wearing an expression more genuine than he's seen her harbor yet. "Thank ye. I won't forget it."
DeleteAs the evening wears on and Zargon continues courting his audience, Seirsha slips off into the night.
Zargon awoke the next morning in an unusual state of alertness for a bard in the morning after plying a crowd and drinking into the wee hours. He put on some clothes and descended the creaky steps of the inn to the pub on the lower floor. Zargon bounded over gleefully to the proprietor and asked him with a smile "Good morning friend. I am looking to earn some coin in addition to that which I am bringing in by entertaining the good people of your fine establishment. What would you say is the easiest, quickest way to earn as much as possible in the area? I have skills of many kinds and am not so foolish as to reject a job because someone of a more prudish bent finds it to be problematic."
ReplyDelete"To anyone else," the innkeeper replies, "I'd say to try their hands workin' the mines: there's wealth to be found there, that's to be certain, but also toil and death. But ye've never struck me as the type... not to mention bein' a source of business that I'd rather not see perish at the end of a goblin's spear."
DeleteThe man unstoppers an oaken barrel of mead, letting its contents flow into a frothing tankard, which he slides to Zargon. "I know a trader, one Velhaevin Runechaser, who peddles various goods and oddities betwixt here and Longsaddle, sometimes further south. Not so much a merchant or monger, more a collector and provider of unusual wares to customers who tend to be more unusual still. I can say little else about the man, except that he's asked me before if I was privy to any who would embrace a life of traveling the open road, free from mining, caravanning, and soldiers' dealings... and above all, someone who could be trusted to offer a similar set of abilities to those I know ye harbor.
"Alas, though: ye say that ye need yer money fast, quick as easy, as do we all. I'd offer that ye can work for me, toilin' the kitchens, cleanin' out stalls, and the like. I cannot pay more'n a handful o' coppers a week, but I can provide free food and lodging, for as long as ye care to remain here in the city: hardly a minor wage during the trade season, if I do say so meself."