Closed Wooden Instruments

[Draven McNiel]

20th Day of Winter, 515

Draven walked through the crowded halls of the Stormhold castle, carefully weaving through the crowd; moving his hips side to side to avoid brushing against others. Occasionally he stood on his toes to see his destination after a hard day's work filled with training he went to the public baths to cleanse himself; which explaining his wettened black hair. This young man had only one place in mind, the rearing stallion. It had taken a while for him to become accustomed to the wonders that alcohol held, but he had come to enjoy it after a few failed attempts at drinking. ”Damn, this is taking too long.”

Slowly a light at the end of the tunnel could be seen, showing him that he was making it to the very fringes of the nettle district and out toward the few businesses that were out in open air. Ever so slowly he pushed against the people heading back inside and made it out of the door, giving a glance to the knights at either side, as he stumbled at the sudden loss of the pushing force against him and barely managed to catch himself; his wooden sword had almost slid itself off its sheath completely restricting his head movement. He re-sheathed his sword properly and began his short trek toward the Rearing Stallion.

Draven pushed open the doors and was hit by the smell of cooking food and alcohol as well as a bit of sweat. It was admittedly a lot better than the smell that hung around the rest of the city. ”And I have arrived!” He declared loudly in his vain attempt to attract everyone's attention toward him. A few cheers as well of jeers could be heard before they quickly died down. The black hair man made his way toward the bar with a smile on his face. ”Hey, lemme get a mug of beer.” He said casually as he put down two silver miza coins to pay for his drink. After a minute of waiting he took the mug, sat down on a free table, and leaned back putting his feet on the table.

While this was a bit of a rude display, Draven saw it worth it after having trained hard he felt that he deserved to sit back for a little while. However a few looks made him just a little uncomfortable, a part of him wondered whether anyone was going to say anything and hesitated to take a drink from his mug. However he chose to chug it down after exactly a tick of waiting; before choking which lead to a coughing fit which lead to him changing his sitting position quickly to place down the mug.

[Piper Quinn]

Piper had been preparing her bow when a squire with a brand of cocky all his own entered as he announced. The squire sauntered up to the bar much like he thought he owned the place. The bard had never seen this squire before, the knighthood must of gotten a recent influx this season. It didn't bother the bard any. Piper kept to herself and stayed out of trouble. She turned away from the man at the counter shaking her head slightly at his behavior. Picking up a block of rosin, she applied it to her bow in a thick coat as she preferred. Better to have too much than not enough to make a sound. It was funny in a way, Piper was not a picky person at all except when it came to her fiddle. With her fiddle everything had to be as she liked it; From the horse hair used on the bow, the deep dark rosin that covered the horse hair, the thickness of each string on the fiddle, to the polish she used on the heirloom. It had belonged to her grandfather and to who knew how many greats-grands. Made of strong Avanthalian Pine the fiddle was sturdy, Frostmarch hair strung her bow. All in all it was an instrument wholly Vantha and Piper worried any little change to the instrument could affect it negatively in sound or condition. A sudden loud thud grabbed her attention; it was that squire again! This time with his dirty boots up on a table! Who did this man think he was? Sadly she'd have to pass him to get to where she stood to play. Giving herself a mental kick she began to move up to where she'd play, and she did so painfully slow. Then karma kicked in and the oh-so-cocky squire choked on his beer. He was sitting normally as she passed still coughing to which Piper slapped him squarely on the back and continued up to play her songs. Now with the squire quieted she began her first song.

[Draven McNiel]

Slowly the coughs that racked his body began to subside and he received a slap to his back that allowed him to get a deep breath of air that was oh-so-necessary. The coughing came to a halt and the young mercenary turned around to see just who it was, only to notice some guy with a fiddle begin to play a song. Draven pondered just who it was that gave him that slap to the back, but shrugged. If he ever found out he’d make sure to thank them, but for now he sipped his drink and listened to the music that filled the air. A part of him just couldn’t stay still, he had energy left over, however he quelled the urge to move replacing it with content at the drink in his hand as he washed it down.

The burning feeling travelled down his throat and with a loud sigh he plopped down his mug as he finished the rest of the drink this time around without coughing or choking. A rather content smile appeared on his face, for someone a little more experienced in Draven-lish it would be obvious that he was feeling pride at this smallest of achievements. He slowly stood up and wobbled before catching himself on the table; someone with good ears would be able to point out a couple of chuckles around the bar. Draven however had no ears for that as getting himself another mug was his current plan of action. ”Yo buddy~! Lemme get another mug!” He said out loud as he prepared the correct amount of miza. Two silver coins found themselves in his hand and a mug in the other as he began to walk to the bar.

He looked around the tavern and came to note a number of details that he didn’t pay quite as much attention to as before. Almost everyone seemed to be in their own groups, which Draven envied a little, yet he also saw a few loners straying off to the corners. Sitting in the middle when alone seemed to be strange within this establishment. The young adult pondered on this for a bit, was it really strange to come alone to a social environment? He however found himself tripping on what appeared to be thin air and smacked his head off the bar. He turned himself around while on the floor and joined in the laughter that echoed through the room. ”So yeah, about that drink. Mind if I drink it in my new seat?” Said the prone young man. ”No? On my way then!” He exclaimed as he stood up. The bar counter was right there, and he plopped down his money and picked up the mug from the floor and also placed it onto the counter.

He received a clean new mug with beer inside, and walked back onto his chair. He ignored a couple of chuckles, was falling over really that funny for others? The questions that spun through his head were limitless, yet other people were the most mysterious to him.., Maybe it was time for him to make a couple more buddies. It never hurt to make new friends, so he said to himself as he nodded to himself. Before turning to the table next to him, only to see them engaged in intense conversation, and around the room there were different levels of conversation.

This however did not demotivate him, as he noticed the few people at the fringes of the room, there was also the bard and bar-man. The next person to cross his path would be his new friend! There was obviously no reason for them to not want him as a friend? He was a great guy with lots of pros and almost no cons; he had modeled himself after his great father after all.