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⬅️ Previous capture (2022-04-28)
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I pestered the Player to write more about Lantashi's Dance, the story about me! The following is what the Player came up with.
I make an appearance at the end :) This is the first draft, so the Player probably made some typos.
The air of the Platinum Duckling was filled with electricity. A band was playing at the inn that night, Korbin and the Immortals. Korbin was onstage, tuning his loot, getting it ready for action. Around him were other kobolds and goblins, similarly preparing their instruments and warming up their voices.
Much smoke hung in the air, from pipes, cigars, and various types of local weed. It was dark outside, and the lamps in the bar didn't fully light the place, except up at the stage, were the night's entertaining was preparing.
The half-orc bartender, Glitch, was watching as more and more customers piled in. The usual rabble was here, the traveling merchants and their guards, the ragtag set of adventurers out to find their glory, and some of the locals, scraping enough coin together to spend on ale and entertainment. Mainly the ale.
"What do you think, Jark? Do you think Korbin and the Immortals will be any good? That last band you got in here, with that tiefling singer, what was her name? That was a disappointment."
Jark was a rough-looking human, about 6 and a half feet tall, heavy-set with an immense amount of muscle. He knew how to fight. He knew how to use a blade, but preferred to bash people with his fists. Fighting was not Jark's career, however. He considered himself a businessman, facilitating trade between various outposts, and finding talent of all kinds, be it martial, criminal, or entertainment.
"Her name was Benari, and she could sing. Or at least I was told she could. It's not my fault she got a frog in her throat the night of the performance."
Glitch grunted.
"That's your story. I say she could never sing at all. Good-looking for a tiefling though. She brought in the crowd for the show. For that I'm thankful."
Jark nodded, and turned toward the crowd, a large mug of Glitch's special hard brew in his hand. He saw his special squad of men hanging about, men in dark clothes hanging in the shadows.
"Anyone you see here that has too much coin for their own good?" Jark asked the barkeep.
"I need you to behave, Jark. What you do once the patrons leave is your business. While in here, I need them spending their money on food and drink. Got it?"
Jark smiled, nodding to one of his men, and then to one of the traders. The trader, a man of about fifty with long gray hair, and bushy beard, had several friends around him, but only a couple of guards. The guards did not look that intimidating. Once the trader left the Platinum Duckling, he was fair game. Or, if he ended up alone for a few minutes, then his purse could be quietly lifted from his pocket.
"Look, Jark, one of those Elephant men. I don't see many of them around."
Glitch motioned to a table in the corner of the room. It had a strange assortment of people sitting around it. There was a minotaur, along with one of the Catfolk, a small humanoid creature in an oversized hat. And there was a tiefling with reddish skin. Sitting with this odd bunch was one of the Pacts, and race of elephant men rarely found in this part of the world. Glitch hadn't seen one in ages, and it was the first sighted by Jark in his life.
"Well, what do you know?" Jark asked aloud. "I never. That's an adventuring party if I ever saw one. A bull-man, an elephant-man, a cat-man, and a tiefling. I wonder what brought that group together."
One of Jark's shadow-men caught his eye, and indicated this exotic party. Jark was unsure. Two, at least, were powerful. The other two, who knows? The were sitting around the table, each drinking some of Glitch's tasty brews, and were... looking around. Were they also looking for victims to rob? Were they just curious as to who else was there? Or were they waiting for someone?
The inn filled with noise, as loot, lyre, and drums came to life from the stage. The music, if it could be called that, was loud, only somewhat coordinated, and filled with *power*. After the first blast of music, the crowd began clapping as Korbin, a diminutive kobold, stepped up to the front and started their first song with a shout, followed by what could only loosely be considered singing, about a grand quest to save lonely orphans from an evil man called Wythers. Each time the word "Wythers" was used all the members of the band shouted the name as though it were a curse.
"Wytthhhhheeeerrrrrrrrssssssssssss!!!!"
Among this ... beautiful music ("Racket," Jark thought to himself, but would not admit that to the barkeeper.) ... Jark saw a shapely, indeed quite beautiful, sylvan walk into the Duckling. No, she was not full-blooded sylvan. She had some human ancestry as well, with bright red hair, only slightly pointed ears, a dark brown tunic and black travel slacks and boots. A bow and a quiver of arrows were slung across her back, and two small daggers hung at her sides.
The half-sylvan looked around the room, and then waved energetically to the strange group in the corner. The Pact waved back, shouting a low "Helloooo," followed by what might have been the sylvan's name. But the name was lost in the energy pervading the room. Jark also saw the tiefling at the table put his head in his arms, and slam it down on the table, as though he was very frustrated by something.
The red-headed sylvan shouted something back, also lost in the music, and ran over to the table, joining the crowd.
Email: lantashi [at] protonmail [dot] com