Another night, another bar stage to get booed off of. I found myself stretching after a long, hard day of travel. A simple place, nothing extravagant, nothing to pricey, hopefully I could actually make a profit at this one. The bar-goers were nothing too special, one had some funny looking armor on, otherwise just a few simple patrons.
Not too late in the night, I’d hoped the people could be forgiving here. I pulled out my guitar, which just happens to look ax in shape, and of course nobody sees the guitar, everybody notices the ax part. People get startled, as always, but a quick few plucks of a string, and people learn to calm themselves. The man in armor seemed to turn around to see what I was up to. I started without singing, just to get people to start tapping along.
Just as I was really getting into the song, a horrible rabble of folk shoved their way into the bar. And what a surprise, the one in front, obviously leading the drunken crew started throwing obscenities right in my face. Rightfully so, I flipped them off and continued to play, trying to keep people kind and happy. At that point, the armored individual spoke up. "Quiet, fool. I’ll not have you ruin my night and everyone else’s simply by virtue of your stupidity. If you wish to ply your unseemly voice against someones ear, I suggest it be that of the sow you call a mother,” he spoke with quite the loud and powerful tone, I was rather impressed at his projection skills in fact.
The vulgar bastard rose his tone quite horribly in return sadly, not a noise friendly to the ears. “Oi, i can shay whatevr the fock i want… WHERE I want.” After that the man actually threw a punch at the armored fellow! But I didn’t let that one go into fruition. A well placed end of my guitar, blocked the slow punch without issue.
“I wouldn’t do that small one,” I called down to the bastard. “I’d shut your mouth, lest you want more of a headache tomorrow morning.”
“Loike I givvve a fuc-,” he tried to retaliate with a stupid comeback, yet he was met with a gauntlet to his face, from my armored fellow. He looked to me and spoke. "I apologize, dear sir, I just couldn’t listen to one more word from that god awful anus of a mouth. Perhaps you would like the next?” The bastard’s party behind him started to raise their fists up for a brawl. “Shall we?” asked the armored friend. “Let’s dance,” we said in perfect unison, as they jumped into the fray of drunken bastards.
After quite the bout, a rabble of knocked out drunks lay on the floor in a pile under me and my new allies’ feet. “That was a fine performance, sir, but I’m afraid I never caught your name. However, I shouldn’t be so crass as to not introduce myself first. I am Trevor Archibald Marion Egwynt. You may refer to me simply as Tre. I am on my errant quest to find the lost secrets of Armigers and return to my people with pride and skill abounding.” his voice rang true and honest.
“The name’s Tormun Stonesinger, biggest bard you’ll ever meet, seeking my own form of power,” I replied gladly, a strange sense of trust in this new fellow.
“Well met, Tormun. If you are seeking power as well, would you like to become my partner? I could use a little extra muscle sometimes as well as someone who can drag me out of the archives when I get distracted.”
“That’s not too bad an idea, I say we can stick together, I could at least fulfill a nice symphony out of it.”