OOCBerus is just applying for a job in this thread, despite his great fear of them. I just need the whole wages thing worked out please.
Berus hovered about the entrance to the Red Diamond Tavern, his courage failing and his heart giving out on him in the face of this great trial. His eyes darkened to a bleak, despairing brown and his usually cheerful smile was strikingly absent from his haggard and distraught face. Even the blue and red highlights in his hair did little to lighten up his appearance. His blue cloak simply hung from his fallen shoulders and his lyre, which was strapped to his back by a belt, seemed to have lost the shine that Berus had always painstakingly polished into it. He seemed but a ghost in the streaming moonlight.
The cool breeze blew in from the opened door, causing shivers to run down the troubled little bard’s back. The fire in the grate nearby flickered as it fought against the deadly chill of the outside and the hard wood floor of the tavern started to be invaded by multitudes of tiny flakes of snow. The patrons of the tavern eyed Berus with extreme irritation. The sober ones muttered to themselves while the more drunken started outright shouting at the little man. Berus, however, seemed hardly to hear them as he stood stock still, his thoughts demanding more attention than the screams of the drunkards ever could.
The bartender, having enough of the frozen breeze and not wanting any customers to get angry enough to stop drinking, angrily at the stupid little boy who was standing there with the door wide open. “Hey! Boy! What are you doing standing with the door wide open?” The small man didn’t seem to notice and simply stood there dumbly, eyes cast downwards to the snow piling up on the hardwood floor. The bartender grabbed a nearby mug and tossed it hard at him, “You idiot! Shut the blasted door!”
The mug hit Berus, snapping him out of his dark thoughts and back into the present. The mug bounced off of his chest and fell back down to the floor with loud clank and he stared at it a moment before the bartender’s continued curses caused him to look up incredulously. After a moment his ears finally processed what the angry bartender was shouting so loudly about and he hurriedly shut the door behind him. His eyes, still a dark brown, met the bartender’s glare for a moment before the bartender waved the idiot little boy away, apparently satisfied that his curses had given the boy the proper dressing up.
Berus, hardly caring that he had been cussed out in this time of distress, looked around the bar for a moment as he continued to procrastinate. Though a couple of the more sober patrons still shot glances of displeasure his way, most had become too absorbed in their drinks to care much for anything else anymore. The warm fire resumed its quiet, undisturbed roar and the old men seated around it continued their contented napping and incoherent late night rambling.
It was a wonderful place that was the setting of many happy memories, nights filled with lazy lyre playing and even the occasional violent bar fight.
However, tonight it was the scene of a one of the darkest moments in Berus’s life. He was going to willingly, voluntarily sign up to work for many boring hours for a simple, boring paycheck. The very thought of it made him depressed beyond anything he had ever experienced and caused bile to frequently rise to his mouth and assault his tongue with its vile taste. Still, he knew that if he was to ever realize his dreams of traveling out into the world and going on his own grand adventure he knew he would need the funds that this horrible practice provided.
Reluctantly, he brought one foot forward a couple of inches and followed it with the other. His feet grated against the floor as he vainly sought the strength to raise them for a full, noble step. Several of the drunkards now eyed him with amusement as he slid slowly through the tavern and toward the bartender, who was determinedly ignoring the idiot boy and controlling his temper by cleaning out a couple of mugs with a dirty rag. He truly looked like a prisoner bound for the gallows, all hope lost and resigned totally to his fate. Someone just needed to tell his feet that though, for he was literally inching across the floor.
Finally, after an interminable period, he reached the bar. Leaning against it as if it could no longer support his weight, he called over to the bartender in a shaky, depressed voice. “Hello there, bartender, do you perhaps have any openings for an entertainer in this fine establishment?” He felt as if he were separated from reality somewhat as he said those words, feeling as if he was watching the scene unfold from somewhere far, far away.
The bartender turned about suddenly and nearly chucked his mug at Berus. The man hardly kept his temper in check as his face turned a bright red. The bartender was able to stand calmly through violent bar fights and spewing vomit yet the thought of losing even a little bit of money because of some stupid idiot leaving a door open caused him to lose his temper. He stomped over to Berus and slammed the mug down on the counter so hard that it shattered. He shook his hand for a moment, anger deflated somewhat, before he replied to the ignorant lout. “You think I’d give a job to a stupid idiot who doesn’t even have enough sense to close a blasted door!”
Berus stepped back away from the volatile man, wiping shards of glass from his shirt as he did so. His eyes were now wide open and alert, startled out of his thoughts by the shattering glass. Now he looked at the bartender with wide fearful eyes, knowing that the man’s temper was only held in check for fear of disturbing his late night customers. Berus held is hands up defensively, face apologetic and his voice even shakier than before. “I err… I am sorry, I uh… I am just having a hard time putting myself through this…” He lowered his head in submission despite that it was probably unwise with such a violent man standing within arm’s reach.
The bartender considered simply leaping over the bar and quietly disposing of the stupid boy, thinking that if he did so before the boy could call out then he wouldn’t disturb the drunkards dozing about the room. Heck, he would probably be given a medal for his great deed. The bartender decided not to after excising much restraint and using some solid logic; the bar was rather tall and made of sturdy wood and he wasn’t sure he could quite get over it without coming crashing down to the floor. Instead he set his teeth and addressed the fool as calmly and composedly as he could. “What do you mean, put yourself through this…?”
Berus almost considered breaking and running just then, as he saw the bartender’s teeth weren’t going to hold long before curses and screaming came bursting through. He stopped himself though, reminding himself that he’d come this far and he wasn’t going to let himself down. He wasn’t going to resign himself to a life sitting around playing his lyre until his face became so wrinkled that it finally succumbed to gravity and fell into the grave, just like his grandfather had. Steeling himself, he drew himself up to the greatest height five feet and four inches could afford him and addressed the angry bartender evenly. “I mean simply coming to you for a job, though I loathe the prospect. I am Berus-“
The bartender’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped. Then his hand smashed down on the counter, causing Berus to jump suddenly and almost bolt for the door. However, a second glance at the man’s face told Berus that he wasn’t slamming his fist down in anger but instead to hold down his laughter. The bartender’s face flushed an even deeper red than before as he nearly collapsed on the floor with laughter. The abrupt change struck Berus as very odd and several of the more sober people seated nearby shot curious glances their way.
It took a moment for the bartender to stop his howling laughter and finally look up at Berus with eyebrows raised in amusement. “So you’re Berus! I heard a great deal about your parents forcing you into job after job and you skippin’ like a naughty child!” Berus’s face quickly reddened to match the bartender’s own as he fell back, embarrassed. It took a moment longer for the bartender to finally, painfully wheeze out, “So you’ve come for a job eh?”
Berus looked around, dying a little inside for each amused, condescending glance that was shot his way, before looking back to the bartender. The man was leaning heavily on the bar as he attempted to catch his breath and suppress another bout of laughter. The bartender’s hand strayed a little too far on the bar and he straightened up very suddenly when his hand scraped against a piece of stay glass. A look of pain crossed his face, Berus felt a surge of satisfaction, and he held it tenderly against his shirt as he awaited Berus’s reply.
“Yes, I was hoping I could... er... entertain somewhat are your fine establishment?” Berus choked out. This night was getting worse and worse. It was horrible in the first place because of his purpose and it was spiraling rapidly into a dismal abyss of pain and suffering for the poor young bard. The only ray of hope that Berus had remaining was that the bartender would turn him down. Then, at least, he could escape out into the night and back to his peaceful bed. He’d even go back to work at the menagerie if it meant he could escape with some dignity!
However, the bartender smiled vindictively at the bard, sensing that he only wanted an escape. “I suppose I could use an extra lyre.” Berus’s face fell, yet the bartender seemed to feed off of it as he rose up taller, his smile growing wider every second. “You won’t work for much pay, though, and you’ll earn every copper with good, hard work. I pay by day, depending on how well I-“ he shoved a finger in his own chest for emphasis “- think you did! No tips. No breaks. No drinks.” He crossed his hairy arms in front of his chest, awaiting the little idiot’s answer. By all accounts, he was being very generous even giving the boy a try after his reputation.
Berus’s shoulders sagged. “I am honored to be allowed to work for such a fine gentlemen,” he managed to say eloquently, yet his voice reflected not feelings of happiness but instead his deep, growing sadness. His gaze fell down to his feet as depression nearly took him to his knees.
The bartender reached across the bar and grabbed Berus by the shoulders, roughly shaking him from his thoughts. He caught the young bard’s gaze fast. “Go home and rest, but I expect you here tomorrow evening. Try not to look like your parents just died, can you?” The bartender said the last part with a bit of a chuckle, now trying to lighten the poor bard’s mood. However, he darkened immediately, veins popping out of his neck as he remembered what had transpired earlier. “And shut the blasted door on your way out!”
