Musician in Residence (Job Thread)

by **Cirrus** on March 4th, 2013, 10:36 pm

Cirrus

[4th Spring, 513AV]

Cirrus was smiling while he played in a well-lit corner, his lyre's case already scattered with coppers and the occasional shining silver. He was currently tripping his way through a lively stop-and-start piece about two girls gossiping while they argue over the price of butter. Not the most interesting thing, but it's amazing what people find interesting when it's from another region. A crowd of young people were sitting near him, talking and laughing and doing anything but dancing as they all tried to out-edgy each other by caring the least. He knew that dance - each and everyone one of them had an eye on one or two others and was praying to whatever deity with all their might. Such was the way of the world.

Meanwhile, the regulars to the bar sat at the bar itself, talking amongst themselves of more serious and somehow far more mundane matters while they sipped tamely at tankards of ale. Their drab, boring clothing and oppressive wooden constructs made no sense to Cirrus, but he reasoned that Sylira wasn't the centre of civilisation for nothing. He'd live with his claustrophobia, because the money to be made was here, and survival was not likely out there. He'd already nearly gotten himself and his horse killed. It was no small wonder that he'd lived to see the safety of Zeltiva. So he'd take his time, and live with his estrangement from the culture, and earn passage to the next town like he always did.

His fingers tripped over the end of the song and into a discordant yet deliberate finish, a flourish taught to him by his father for when you want to jerk people out of their conversations and prompt applause. He hoped he'd judged the room rightly; it didn't seem dangerous, or even slightly hostile, but he'd jerked the wrong person to reality before and come out with a few bruises.

He inclined his head to the small smattering of applause and went straight into his next song. Tonight was going to be long, and hopefully not unpleasant...

by **Cirrus** on March 6th, 2013, 11:11 pm

Cirrus

Cirrus stood up and swung his lyre down to his hip, moving across the room to the bar to speak to the owner, a lovely young woman by the name of... Cirra? Sarah? Serra? Something like that. You'd think she was too young to run an inn, and yet she managed spectacularly. He hadn't seen a bar fight in here yet. "A drink, if it pleases the lady," he requested politely at the bar. The innkeep smiled at him and pulled a pint from behind the counter, handing it to him without spilling a drop. "Your speed and skill with drawing pints should be legendary!" he exclaimed as he took a sip. Sadly, that would be his only drink for the night. Men who come up to the counter's top and not much higher are not famous for their ability to hold liquor. The lady simply gave him a mute smile and turned to her other patrons. He looked after her as she walked away; she hadn't a bad figure, but he could not in good conscience bed the woman who paid him. She was at her discretion to pay him at all.

Quietly, he got off the stool and walked after her. Catching up, he asked her "Any requests from anyone? I fear I have been too busy playing to receive any. I'm always glad to hear any favorite drinking songs of people." She turned to him and spoke. "Not many," she told him, "but there's a favorite song that would most likely get you tips." she leant over the bar and whispered in his ear. Cirrus smiled, then grinned, then began to chuckle. "I see," he laughed, his voice thankfully lost in the bustle of the inn. "I shall get onto that immediately."

Smiling and muttering to himself, he walked to the centre of the room and climbed atop a table. "You'll forgive me for this, please," he excused himself to the table's somewhat surprised occupants. When he was good and high in the room, his head brushing the ceiling, he strummed his lyre to get attention. Slowly, the room quietened. Everyone looked at him. He got the familiar butterflies, and a lump filled his throat. Slowly, he began, and the room filled with rustling and murmuring as everyone realised what he was doing.

"Ho! Damn to this nonesense, I pray thee, give o'er,
And talk o' your ladies beloved no more,
Their face and their air and their way, what a rout!
Here's to thee, my lad! Push the bottle about!"

The occupants began the next verse in a drunken chorus of joyful voices; it seemed that once a drinking song started, everyone became drunk at once. Cirrus led, his sonorous male baritone ringing out over the rafters while men began to stand up and dance in circles, spilling ale to the floor and women to the tables.

"Let sorrowful men play the fool and the ape,
For they dare not confide in the fruit of the grape,
But we honest fellows; Gods! Who'd ever think
Of pulling for love while he's able to drink?"

There was liberal thumping of tables in time with the beat now, and even the landlady was joining in (Sarah? Sirrah?) as the song became louder and louder.

"'Tis wine, only wine, that true pleasure bestows,
Our joys it increases and lightens our woes;
Remember what drunkards of old used to sing!
'The man who is drunk is as great as a king!'

"If Cheva comes to you, there's law to her tricks;
Sivah's advices, see page fifty-six!
The precedent's glorious, and just by my soul,
Lay hold of, and drown the young dog in a bowl!

"What's life but a frolic, a song and a laugh?
My toast shall be this, while I've liquor to quaff,
May mirth and good fellowship always abound!
Boys, fill up a barrel, and let it go round!"

He hopped off the table and landed nimbly on the floor to rapturous applause. Drunkards clapped him on the back, pressed drinks into his hands, roared approval through the din as he headed back to the bar. He reached there eventually, and took a seat from an admiring young man. "Was that to your liking, Miss Serra?" he called through the rowdy room.

"It was a good performance, Mr. Cirrus!" she shouted back, laughing. Cirrus waited for a bit for the room to calm down, then headed back to his old table to play background music once more.

Ledger-4cm, mug of ale

by **Cirrus** on March 10th, 2013, 10:37 pm

Cirrus

The room was filled with excited murmuring as he sat in his corner, but most of the people didn't pay any mind to him. He idly tuned his lute as he sat in the far corner of the lantern-lit room. One of the teenagers that crowded around him - a decidedly pretty girl, though one he immediately dismissed as too young for him - turned to him and asked, "Would you play something quiet? I enjoy drinking songs but tonight isn't the night for me."

"Certainly, my lady," he replied, amiably. "Do you have a preference?"

"Just something quiet, please," she pleaded, in a tone a shade more desperate than it needed to be. He nodded and began to play a soft lilting melody, full of sunlight and ancient ruins. He began to sing softly, so only those close to him could hear him but the strains of it reached into the room and soothed everyone. His voice rose and fell as he played different parts in a piece.

"Hey, daddy, look o'er there!
A patch of wild berries in ruins o'er yonder
A feast fit for a king or a hungry band of troupers
An awesome sight to see after a long day's ride!

"I see it lad, a fine ol' sight,
A feast fit for an army,
And surely we will dine tonight
Though we'll have much the same tonight
As every other day!

"But let us go, I'm hungry!
My stomach rumbles something awful
And though I know not what they're like,
They're better than a hungry night!

"Hold on there lad, you've no patience,
There's no sense rushing onwards,
We've got to tie the horses up
And close the carts and wagons up
Like every other day!

"But father dear, I'm starving!
I ache for that fruit over yonder
And as we watch they may be eaten
By animals that graze and wander!

"But son, my lad, you've talked too long!
Those creatures have partaken!
While we spoke here, they ate their fill
We argued and they ate their fill,
No food for us today!"

The patrons laughed at the child's whiny voice, and the father's deep, annoyed tone, and it wasn't long before Cirrus had drinks in his hands again. It wasn't as uproarious as the song before, but he liked to think that things calmed down a little bit. He smiled apologetically to the girl, who wore a slightly pained expression. Perhaps the noise hurt her ears. More fool her for expecting noise to fix the problems noise presented.

by **Cirrus** on May 9th, 2013, 12:59 pm

Cirrus

Cirrus played many songs that night - songs of love and loss and drinking and merriment, alongside those that made no sense and made people laugh simply because everyone else was laughing. Mizas clinked idly into his case, and a few were stolen - although the people who stole them where mostly found out. It mattered not to Cirrus. He was about to continue into another drinking song when he looked out a window and found the moon was setting. Time to go to bed, I suppose. I do feel tired. He held up a hand in regretful acknowledgement, and to a chorus of groans and pleas for another one he began emptying coins into his purse and packing his instrument into its case. He raised a hand again, and the drunker of the crowd waved back as the revellers finished their drinks and tottered back to whatever hovels they may sleep in in this drab, stone city. He nodded and winked to Serra, who smiled back politely, before he dragged himself up the stairs and to his room. After locking the door and the window, he peeled off his clothes and collapsed, naked, into bed - he was asleep within seconds.