40th of Winter, 512 AV
"... And did that pesky jester refrain from making a comment on the official's most outrageous costume ever seen in the lands of Arthan? Certainly not! With a twirl of that colourful cane he held in his right hand, he tapped the oblivious man right on the noggin and spoke thus: "Why, 'tis the new jester! Would you please step this way, and amuse us all with your newest jokes?" "
The audience, already having their funny bones tickled previously after a series of witty anecdotes, provided the appropriate response to such a statement.
"And how that flabbergasted noble gape at the daring jester! The common people jeered unkindly and applauded wildly as the jester continued. "What? No words already? Perhaps you should find another job that best suits you, but I prefer to look on the bright side! Your garments are of a most arresting nature, my good fellow! Ho there, my masters and you freemen! Tell this man that he doth look like one of mine own kind!" "
Crypt sat down on a small wooden stool, extending his hand for the ever-present mug of cold ale placed by his side and taking a few sips to wet his throat.
"But sadly, the jester would not continue, for he was beset on all sides by a crowd of children, wielding their wooden swords and lances in imitation of the Jousts and Battles to be performed by the Knights present there later that day. "Gadzooks! By the Gods, you valiant warriors have bested me! Very well, my lords and lady," he spoke, bowing in imitation of his noble masters to a small girl of seven, "A story you shall have from me, and no more!"
'Twas a dark and stormy night, my captors, and there was a little boy by the name of Browne who lay by the fireplace, dreaming of knights, of castles, of damsels most fair! And suddenly, there came a tapping - as of someone gently rapping on the wooden door. No, not a black bird, Claire, what have you been thinking about? Anyway, Browne ignored it, thinking that it was but the rain.
But it came again, and much louder!
"Just the storm and rain," Browne muttered, "Only that, and nothing more."
And again, louder!
Oh, how he shivered and shook by the fireplace! He knew then that someone was behind the door! Who was it? What was behind that door? A giant? Yes!"
Crypt threw his arms up, attempting to display the absurb proportions of the mythical figure the jester had mentioned. His act of jumping up and down in an attempt to emphasize his immense height drew laughter from a few children that had accompanied their parents for a fine, hot dinner and some entertainment at the Rearing Stallion. Some others, older and more mature, grinned or chuckled at the sight of a grown man acting like a misbehaved chap of ten.
""It must be! I shall put on my armor, and take up my sword! I shall be brave, like my father!" And so he put on his finest shirt and buckled on his simple wooden sword - careful with that, Johena! Wouldn't want you to take off my head, eh? And then he marched to the door, and threw it open!"
The children gasped, leaning in closer, desperate to hear the next few words."
Crypt nodded his thanks to another musician on the raised dais who was accompanying his short story with a bit of improvisation that added a touch of foreboding and malaise to the atmosphere.
"But when the door opened, who was it but Browne's father himself? But no! Blinded by his fear, he charged at his own father!
"Die, you giant! Die, you... you..."
And it was then he noticed the imposing figure of his father.
The children gasped, their eyes as wide as could be, waiting to hear what devilish punishments the father would think of.
"Is he going to spank him?" A blonde child of five spoke first.
"A spanking? What about using a big, big wooden stick?" Another piped up.
"No, larger than that! A... A... Wolf!" A rosy-cheeked lad of six (though sadly a tad addled) spoke then, eliciting groans and laughter from the others.
"You silly thing! You can't hit a person with a wolf!" The previously-laughing child now playfully pushed the six-year old aside.
He picked him up and...
The children waited with bated breath.
But that's for another story, gentlemen and ladies. The jester will be back on the morrow."
Crypt narrowly dodged a fruit of an indeterminable nature that flew towards his face.
It had not been a good day, ever since he was reminded of his father's death by a series of unfortunate incidents earlier that day. His tale had started well enough, but he was forced to cut it short after going off on a tangent and telling an ennui-inducing tale.
Making his getaway through the main entrance (now exit), Crypt paused for a moment and reflected on his previous performance.
It was horrible. No creativity, no interesting parts. It certainly bored me. But that's what they'll get today. That Syliran Knight told me a few... unpleasant things about my father. A coward? A braggart? Perhaps. But tomorrow then. Tomorrow I shall perform as usual, and perhaps gain back some of my reputation.
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by Crypt on January 29th, 2013, 2:27 pm 
