Solo [Job thread]At the Drunken Fish

[Baran]

3rd Summer 516 AV, Location

X

It was early evening, that time just before the sun fully sets and the darkness spreads across the sky. Sunberth's raw glory practically glistened in the perfect rays that Syna spread in her glory. Presuming his belongings would be safe, Baran had left his temporary home to wander through the streets of Sunberth, clutching his gamba and money surreptitiously, trying to avoid the majority of glances and glowers. It wasn't an easy task, not when he wasn't used to it yet. But despite its reputation, it seemed that the place wasn't as hostile as it had been made out to be. Perhaps that was because he hadn't experienced it yet. Time would tell.

The sea beckoned him with its salty, fish smell. He breathed deep, enjoying the atmosphere with a simple, deep pleasure, as he enjoyed the majority of life. But, he wasn't there to enjoy the 'scenery'. He glanced around, his eyes scanning the surroundings. It was a relatively busy part of the city, the ships clustering the shore and the piers were probably part of that. But what he was searching for evaded him.

He walked on a little further. And there! A wooden sign creaked in front of a tall, busy-looking building that was beginning to leak lantern light, and that already throbbed with conversation, shouts and raucous laughter. The Drunken Fish. A tavern. He stepped up to the establishment, and pushed aside the door, letting himself into the place.

On first appearance, the place seemed busy. Not overly so, but most seats were taken, and any place at the bar was filled with drunks, sailors and foreigners alike. Baran tucked himself somewhere he wouldn't be overly bothered, although it was almost impossible to avoid it. The glances at the instrument tied to his back were to be expected, but it seemed, for the most part, that this tavern would serve his purposes.

He tucked thoughts of being kicked out out of his mind, establishing that if that happened, he'd deal with it when it occurred. He grabbed a stool that was temporarily free, and tucked it beneath him. His gamba was wrapped in a simple cloth, as he didn't have a case yet. So, he unwrapped it and stored the cloth beneath the stool he sat on.

A few people had turned to watch, but most were involved in their own conversations, or in the case of some, drinking competitions. Baran grabbed an empty tankard from a low table, and emptied the final drops of ale to the floor, scrubbing them out with his booted toe, before placing the mug in front of him to collect the coins, should any come.

The crowd looked tough, and perhaps they would acknowledge someone who introduced themselves. It was a difficult decision, but after debating it internally for a few ticks, Baran decided to just simply launch into a song. Until he'd established himself, it might be better to keep a low profile.

-494 words

[Baran]

X

Of course, he'd been here the day before, but it was unlikely that there would be anybody here who would remember him, or recognise him, considering the different times of day that he'd chosen to visit in. He tightened his bow-hair and drew the bow across the strings experimentally with a lush, vibrating sound that brought warmth to his cheeks and made his heart beat just that little bit faster.

A few heads turned to look, curious of the sudden sound. Some laughed, shrugged and turned back to their drinks, but others turned properly, obviously hoping for some sort of song. He smiled distractedly at these listeners, and quietened his heartbeat.

He suddenly brought a tune to mind, and trailed his fingers lightly over the strings until he was satisfied with their position on the frets. "This one's called Drunk's Chalice." He nodded towards a man slumped over his mug, and grinned impishly before launching into the song.

He pulled the bow slowly, tilting it downwards to make the sound louder in the busy atmosphere of the tavern. With practised fingers, he danced his hand across the frets, at first slow, then speeding up. Usually the piece had a song to accompany it, but he had forgotten the words, and didn't trust his voice, anyhow.

He disguised a slip of his bow for a flourish, and figured that he liked the flourish. He could vaguely sense the presence of the people nearest to him tapping their feet along, but not much more. He wanted to make an impression on these people, he realised. And to do that, he'd need to add more showmanship to his playing.

The song came to a natural end, and he did a little bow at the small spattering of applause. A tough crowd to please, huh. He stood up suddenly, and shouted in a gravelly voice to his audience, "Next up: The Petcher's Ballad." There was a small cheer of enthusiasm- the song was hugely popular in the shadier parts of Alvadas, and he was glad to see it was recognised here too.

He quickly sat down and played the opening phrase, before bellowing without skill the opening words, putting on his most dramatic facial expressions and mannerisms to befit the song. "Oooooh, lords and," Pause for dramatic suspension here, Baran, "Ladies! Here." His terrible singing seemed to have paid off, and the men nearest to him took up the song, thankfully drunk enough to not feel too apprehensive of singing.

Baran sat down again and started to play the tune with the people. He sang occasionally, grinning at the raunchy lyrics, and trying not to trip over some of the local variants that he wasn't used to. This tune was easy to play, thankfully, so singing whilst playing wasn't as hard for him as it usually was.

-473 words

[Baran]

X

The applause this time was more what he was expecting, and he did a small bow before continuing. This time, it was all about the hype, something to make them want to whirl and dance and jig, something to make them feel merry- and more importantly, wealthy. Baran was beginning to warm up properly now, relaxing in the stuffy, inebriated atmosphere of the tavern. It was like a home to him, in a sense, somewhere familiar and comfortable. However, whilst his playing was as good as his usual, his singing voice today was atrocious. He made a snap decision to avoid singing for the rest of the duration, and launched into the next tune. Evatia and the Swan.

It was a fast one, and it was one of his favourites, a tune from Hai if ever there was one. Despite the name, there was no gentleness in the music, only harsh, choppy bow strokes and the largest wall of sound Baran could achieve with his level of experience, his gut strings and instrument. He hunched over his instrument, getting so deeply into the music, pushing to go faster, and faster, and faster, that he completely zoned his audience out. When he surfaced, as if from a dream, it was to men pushed to the edge of their seat, feet frantically tapping. And as the piece came to it's triumphant close, he smiled to his captive audience with glee.

The applause came hesitantly, growing slightly as he bowed from his seat. At least a quarter of the bar was now his to please, but instead of feeling pressure, Baran chose to embrace the elation of the music. That was what he was there for, after all. Although he did enjoy pleasing the crowds, he played for himself first, and his audience second. It was just a benefit of his profession that if people liked the music he played, then they would pay him for it. And he was being paid now, a few coins of various denominations thrown at his feet. He thanked the people gratefully with a small nod of the head. Now, for another tune.

Yet, it was not to be. Or at least, it was to be, but not one of his choosing. His elbow was jogged by someone to get his attention, and he turned to answer them.
"Yes?"
There was a young man there, red-faced from beer. But unlike the other louts and drunkards around them, he had a pretty woman by his side. Baran gave them both a look over before listening to what he had to say. The guy had made a nice catch.
"Hi, your playing's really good. We wondered, do you know this tune, I... I don't know it's name." The man pushed aside his mop of hair, and started humming awkwardly a song, so softly that Baran almost couldn't hear what the tune was over the racket of the tavern.

It was The Song for Summers, Baran recognised it just barely as something he'd heard being played at a wedding in the streets of Alvadas one summer. And the only reason he knew the name was because he'd asked the old man who'd been playing it. The only trouble was, he'd never played it himself, and even if he did know it, such a song wasn't fit for tavern music.

-561 words

[Baran]

X

Dammit. He was in a conundrum. To play the requested song, despite only being able to remember snatches of it, and make the tavern bored out of their minds. Or to refuse, and get branded as being useless- because after all, if someone wants to hear a particular tune and you don't know it, then you can't be very good, right? Baran sighed internally, and smiled a pained smile at the happy couple who had unintentionally set him up with this trap. It wouldn't do to refuse...

"Sure, I can play that for you. It's called The Song for Summers. Quite popular I believe, for weddings. Is that what you two are planning?" The two of them blushed, and grinned like lovesick pigeons. Baran smiled, and raised his hand, speaking loudly and clearly towards the tavern. "Three cheers for these two lovers who're gonna get married!" If it was even possible, the two blushed further, and waved away pats of congratulations, sinking deeper into their chairs. Baran grinned, perhaps he could work this to his advantage after all.

With a deep breath of preparation, the man racked his brain to remember how the tune went. He muttered, he hummed under his breath whilst the congratulations were going round, and finally came up with the A part, if not the B part. Yet it would be slow going, to get the tune under his fingers and properly in his mind. With the barest hint of hesitation, the man quickly re-tuned his gamba and started the song. Only to realise, he'd started in the wrong key.

Staying calm in situations like this was the most important thing he could do, and he blinked rapidly as he fought to change the key as smoothly as possible. The tune refused to co-operate, sounding odd no matter how he played it. Yet, as long as he kept his face still and calm, then no-one would notice the errors... Shyke. Ever a perfectionist at heart, the large slide he used to change to the correct key set his face in a quick grimace, and the front row of listeners picked up on it. Now the tune hung in the balance. He was playing it as slowly as he possibly could, and if anyone were to dance to it, they'd almost be falling over at how slow it was. Yet, he didn't care. After all, the couple would surely prefer to be able to hear the tune slowly, rather than hear a jumbled mess.

However, the tune was boring him. It was slow, it was lovey-dovey in all the wrong ways... and there wasn't an interest any more. With a leisurely strum of the strings, Baran finished it, yawning slightly and leaning back on his stool as he thought of what else he could play. Perhaps it was almost time for a drink. No, a few more. It was time to re-vitalise the crowd, who had started to drift off into the rest of the tavern.

-503 words

[Baran]

"Speech"

X

The crowd needed something fast, something enjoyable. Baran needed it too, his fingers were itching to race across the strings at breakneck speed, as he much preferred the heady rush of adrenaline as he balanced on a knife's edge of getting it wrong than the sickly-sweet apprehension of not knowing a shyke tune but having to play it anyway. So he rummaged through his repertoire of songs and finally came back with a tune simply called, 'Lark.'

A heavily drunken woman nearby was grinning at him, her auburn hair swinging around her face as she danced to a silent tune. She wasn't beautiful but she was pretty, and so he winked at her and crooked his finger to beckon her over. The woman stared at him for a moment, and he smiled at her with a deep grin to encourage her further. She flushed and stood, swaying on her feet. Quickly thrusting his gamba into one hand, he slung his free hand around her waist to stop her falling, and said loudly, "This is for you, love." The woman, already flushed from the ale now blushed deeper, and murmured something. Baran let go of her waist once he was sure his new 'friend' was able to stand by herself. He looked around, and spotted a territorial woman with similar coloured hair eyeing him suspiciously. Assuming she was the woman's sister, he sent an exaggerated kiss her way and she frowned.

A couple of people laughed, and the sound warmed his bones. He seated himself again, and drew a deep breath. Then, with a dramatic flourish, he lifted his bow and brought it down, like a sword onto a prisoner's neck, onto the strings. The deep, resonating sounds that emerged sent thrills through his body, and he immediately slipped into the slick and fluid rhythms of the music he was playing.

The instrument between his knees thrummed with energy as he played, and although he was losing himself in the raw passion of the music, the part of him that was still in the room was milking his performance. He was gesturing wildly, throwing his body about, and all the while trying to maintain a connection between himself and the audience. When the tune finished and he took a bow, he was pleasantly surprised to see those gathered watching were applauding and that he had collected a few more mizas. The girl who he had supposedly devoted the tune to was nowhere to be seen though, and Baran began to pack his gamba away intent on finding her.

The tavern was busy, too busy and drunken to properly allow the man through. He climbed onto the stool to cast his eyes about, searching for the fire of the woman's hair. He spotted her, and dove into the crowd, pushing aside people with his body where it suited him until he reached the door that the woman had passed through. Yet, immediately as he left the tavern, he flattened himself flat against the wall. The woman, the ginger-haired woman, was pressing a dagger to another's throat.

He could hardly believe it, having been convinced she had been absolutely drunk. The man she was confronting was virtually quivering in his breeches, and with a clearly shaking hand he dropped his coin purse into her outstretched hand. Seen in this light, the woman was an utterly different creature to the one in the tavern. He found himself admiring the fierce angle of her shoulders and the wicked glimmer in her eyes as they cast about the area and alighted on his barely hidden frame. Baran smiled, although it was a wary smile, unsure about her motives. The woman in return gave a hard stare... and then she was gone, walking into the night. He thought about following, but decided it might not be wise.

Word Count :

	1st thread	2nd thread	3rd thread	4th thread	5th thread
	494	473	561	503	640
Total	494	967	1528	2031	2671

[Karyk]

 

Baran

Skills
Instrument: Gamba: 4
Observation: 3
Socialization: 1
Flirting: 1
Lores
Sunberth Location: The Drunken Fish
Musician's Trick: Hiding a flaw as a flourish
Song: Drunk Chalice
Song: Petcher's Ballad
Song: Evatia and the Swan
Song: Song of Summers
Sometimes it is best to not be first to a lady
Miscellaneous

 

Notes and Comments

CS Checkmarked: ✓
CS Reviewed by Me: ✓
Season Request was Submitted for Grade: Spring 517
Season of last IC post: Summer 517
Season of last Paid Seasonal Expense: Spring 517
Eligible for grade? Yes

Most entertaining watching Baran perform while also walking a fine line with the crowd. Well done. Please mark your post in Queue as graded