Vanman
Two Thousand Club
Chiaroscuro
My wandering brought me south. Granted, I’d been in Chiaroscuro constructing Melody, but that’s beside the point. I was in the south. Or, the South. I’d found a nice little inn where I could pursue my art. Sure, having a Prince of the Earth performing in your establishment can bring in big business, but that didn’t make the pursuit of art any less. Music is music, and the music I was making was good. Now, however, my aim was to look for a thaumaturge who might be able to create ammunition for Dragon’s Justice. After asking around in the bazaar, the name that kept coming up was Jarl Starblaze. After a number of further inquiries, I had instructions to his tent. And so I made my way to said tent, to inquire after said ammunition.
When I arrived the tent flap was closed and I could make out faint murmuring coming from inside. This was unusual, as most merchants kept their tent flaps open to see possible customers. It was of little matter to me until I tried to move the flap aside. It was tied shut. My curiosity engaged, I listened closely at the crack in the tent flaps. What I heard convinced me that the current negotiations inside the tent were not to the owner’s benefit. I put an eye to the crack and got the lay of the land.
There were two men inside the tent, and they had their attention focused on what could only be the proprietor. They both had their swords out, and one had his blade at the owner’s throat. Well, I couldn’t let something like this occur, particularly since it might impinge on my ability to procure my ammunition. So a plan was quickly formulated, and implemented even more quickly.
Swinging Melody out of her case, I started playing softly, acting as a wandering troubadour. I directed the tune at the two thieves inside the tent and, as I did so, I poured Essence into my performance. I’d trained, of course, and practiced my magic. This was real world application. The thrill ran through me as Sextes Jylis breathed through me, through my music. His gracious touch imbued my music with his power. Using this power, I embedded a message in the music. The message was a simple one – drop your weapons and do nothing but listen to the music.
I continued to play but changed to open chords, freeing my left hand. I drew a dagger and cut the ties, allowing me to enter the tent. The thieves had, indeed, dropped their weapons and were standing, listening to my playing, one of them, the one on the right, with his eyes closed. The next part of my plan needed precise timing, particularly if I was going to keep Melody safe. I moved closer to the robbers and positioned myself between the two. With a final pick of the strings, I slung Melody around so that she was now resting across my back. My left leg shot out and, with a quick snap of the foot, caught the thief on the left under the chin, sending him to the ground unconscious and with a broken jaw. Dragon’s Justice was in my right hand and the barrel was under the jaw of the thief on the right before he could even open his eyes. When he felt the cold, hard kiss of Dragon’s Justice on his face, his eyes shot open, wide with fear.
“Well, well, Jarl,†I said, my eyes falling on the thaumaturge’s face. It wasn’t a pretty face, that’s for sure. It was grizzled. Lines spider webbed from his eyes, and deep grooves ran down his cheeks. His hair was salt and pepper, and it was cropped close to his scalp. His eyes were gray, and deep set, but seemed intelligent and appraising. He’d seen his fair share of years, but he didn’t need this. Or, more to the point, I didn’t need this. What I did need was ammunition. “It seems I’m a bit early for our appointment. I apologize for barging in like this but I was so eager to begin our bargaining that I completely forgot my manners. It does seem, however, that I’m not the only one who forgot their manners.†I now pulled the hammer back into position, the clack resounding loudly in the small tent.
“There’s some who say,†I said, brushing at imagined dust on my shirt, “the current…difficulties…facing the Realm stem from lack of manners. If there’s one thing I hate, it’s a lack of manners. It really makes me lose my cool. Makes me want to do something violent and unpleasant.†My manner was insouciant, but my eyes were hard, and I increased the pressure on the barrel of Dragon’s Justice, pushing it harder into the ruffian’s chin,
I’ll give the thief credit. He didn’t scare easily. There was a sheen of sweat on his face but he was still able to speak. “I…I don’t know who you are, mister, but you’ve made a big mistake. Ol’ Jarl here owes our boss a fair amount of product. We were sent to collect. He didn’t have it. Bad things happen to people who don’t give Hadezzi bin Fariq what’s owed to him.â€
Hadezzi bin Fariq. The name is known throughout the south. Black marketer. Gangster. Slaver. Drug runner. In short, a typical Guild merchant. But one who had his fingers in a lot of pots. And sometimes those pots weren’t entirely legal. And, more than once, he’d come out ahead on deals with my House. Crossing him could be a mistake. But I was feeling a bit reckless. Besides, I needed ammunition.
Now the thaumaturge spoke. His voice reminded me of two boulders grinding together – deep and resonant and slightly putting your teeth on edge. “I already gave Fariq his goods. ‘N’ I fu’filled the contrac’. Ain’t nuthin’ t’ do with me if’n Fariq decided to change the terms. I fu’filled what we agreed.â€
The man started to speak but he found it difficult to talk around Dragon’s Justice. Cold metal in your mouth can make conversing problematic. “Ah, ah, ah. It sounds to me like Jarl fulfilled his end of the deal. Otherwise, why would he have contracted his services out to me? Now be a good little boy and scurry home to Fariq. Tell him his deal is done. And tell him if he has any questions, he can bring the original contract to me. The name’s V’Neef Jhin Lyrik. Then I can take it to my family to see if the contract was, indeed, fulfilled. And if I find out Fariq did try and change the terms of the contract, well, that would sit very poorly with me. More importantly, it would sit very poorly with those in my family who do business with the Guild. We might even have to talk with some of our contacts. And then business for Fariq wouldn’t be quite so easy. Just give him that to think on.â€
I started walking toward the tent entrance. The brigand, having Dragon’s Justice tickling the back of his throat, had no choice but to follow – or is that precede – my example. As soon as he was free of the tent, he gave me one more baleful look, turned, and then skulked off into the market. I watched until I could see him no more. Taking a handkerchief from a pocket, I wiped the saliva off Dragon’s Justice barrel and turned back to the thaumaturge.
A large smile flashed across my face. “Well, old boy, it does seem you owe me a drink. Now, what say you bring out a flagon, whatever bottle you have behind the counter there, and let’s talk some business!â€
And so it was that Jarl Starblaze joined me in my travels. I later found out that those two goons were sent to do bodily harm to Jarl as well as take the wares he had in the tent. As such, Jarl felt a debt of gratitude toward me. When I explained why I first came to see him, and that my plans including traveling and performing, he offered to come along. For one thing, he would be happy to make the ammunition for Dragon’s Justice. For another, he could write and was happy to be my scribe. Thus did Jarl become my right hand man.
My wandering brought me south. Granted, I’d been in Chiaroscuro constructing Melody, but that’s beside the point. I was in the south. Or, the South. I’d found a nice little inn where I could pursue my art. Sure, having a Prince of the Earth performing in your establishment can bring in big business, but that didn’t make the pursuit of art any less. Music is music, and the music I was making was good. Now, however, my aim was to look for a thaumaturge who might be able to create ammunition for Dragon’s Justice. After asking around in the bazaar, the name that kept coming up was Jarl Starblaze. After a number of further inquiries, I had instructions to his tent. And so I made my way to said tent, to inquire after said ammunition.
When I arrived the tent flap was closed and I could make out faint murmuring coming from inside. This was unusual, as most merchants kept their tent flaps open to see possible customers. It was of little matter to me until I tried to move the flap aside. It was tied shut. My curiosity engaged, I listened closely at the crack in the tent flaps. What I heard convinced me that the current negotiations inside the tent were not to the owner’s benefit. I put an eye to the crack and got the lay of the land.
There were two men inside the tent, and they had their attention focused on what could only be the proprietor. They both had their swords out, and one had his blade at the owner’s throat. Well, I couldn’t let something like this occur, particularly since it might impinge on my ability to procure my ammunition. So a plan was quickly formulated, and implemented even more quickly.
Swinging Melody out of her case, I started playing softly, acting as a wandering troubadour. I directed the tune at the two thieves inside the tent and, as I did so, I poured Essence into my performance. I’d trained, of course, and practiced my magic. This was real world application. The thrill ran through me as Sextes Jylis breathed through me, through my music. His gracious touch imbued my music with his power. Using this power, I embedded a message in the music. The message was a simple one – drop your weapons and do nothing but listen to the music.
I continued to play but changed to open chords, freeing my left hand. I drew a dagger and cut the ties, allowing me to enter the tent. The thieves had, indeed, dropped their weapons and were standing, listening to my playing, one of them, the one on the right, with his eyes closed. The next part of my plan needed precise timing, particularly if I was going to keep Melody safe. I moved closer to the robbers and positioned myself between the two. With a final pick of the strings, I slung Melody around so that she was now resting across my back. My left leg shot out and, with a quick snap of the foot, caught the thief on the left under the chin, sending him to the ground unconscious and with a broken jaw. Dragon’s Justice was in my right hand and the barrel was under the jaw of the thief on the right before he could even open his eyes. When he felt the cold, hard kiss of Dragon’s Justice on his face, his eyes shot open, wide with fear.
“Well, well, Jarl,†I said, my eyes falling on the thaumaturge’s face. It wasn’t a pretty face, that’s for sure. It was grizzled. Lines spider webbed from his eyes, and deep grooves ran down his cheeks. His hair was salt and pepper, and it was cropped close to his scalp. His eyes were gray, and deep set, but seemed intelligent and appraising. He’d seen his fair share of years, but he didn’t need this. Or, more to the point, I didn’t need this. What I did need was ammunition. “It seems I’m a bit early for our appointment. I apologize for barging in like this but I was so eager to begin our bargaining that I completely forgot my manners. It does seem, however, that I’m not the only one who forgot their manners.†I now pulled the hammer back into position, the clack resounding loudly in the small tent.
“There’s some who say,†I said, brushing at imagined dust on my shirt, “the current…difficulties…facing the Realm stem from lack of manners. If there’s one thing I hate, it’s a lack of manners. It really makes me lose my cool. Makes me want to do something violent and unpleasant.†My manner was insouciant, but my eyes were hard, and I increased the pressure on the barrel of Dragon’s Justice, pushing it harder into the ruffian’s chin,
I’ll give the thief credit. He didn’t scare easily. There was a sheen of sweat on his face but he was still able to speak. “I…I don’t know who you are, mister, but you’ve made a big mistake. Ol’ Jarl here owes our boss a fair amount of product. We were sent to collect. He didn’t have it. Bad things happen to people who don’t give Hadezzi bin Fariq what’s owed to him.â€
Hadezzi bin Fariq. The name is known throughout the south. Black marketer. Gangster. Slaver. Drug runner. In short, a typical Guild merchant. But one who had his fingers in a lot of pots. And sometimes those pots weren’t entirely legal. And, more than once, he’d come out ahead on deals with my House. Crossing him could be a mistake. But I was feeling a bit reckless. Besides, I needed ammunition.
Now the thaumaturge spoke. His voice reminded me of two boulders grinding together – deep and resonant and slightly putting your teeth on edge. “I already gave Fariq his goods. ‘N’ I fu’filled the contrac’. Ain’t nuthin’ t’ do with me if’n Fariq decided to change the terms. I fu’filled what we agreed.â€
The man started to speak but he found it difficult to talk around Dragon’s Justice. Cold metal in your mouth can make conversing problematic. “Ah, ah, ah. It sounds to me like Jarl fulfilled his end of the deal. Otherwise, why would he have contracted his services out to me? Now be a good little boy and scurry home to Fariq. Tell him his deal is done. And tell him if he has any questions, he can bring the original contract to me. The name’s V’Neef Jhin Lyrik. Then I can take it to my family to see if the contract was, indeed, fulfilled. And if I find out Fariq did try and change the terms of the contract, well, that would sit very poorly with me. More importantly, it would sit very poorly with those in my family who do business with the Guild. We might even have to talk with some of our contacts. And then business for Fariq wouldn’t be quite so easy. Just give him that to think on.â€
I started walking toward the tent entrance. The brigand, having Dragon’s Justice tickling the back of his throat, had no choice but to follow – or is that precede – my example. As soon as he was free of the tent, he gave me one more baleful look, turned, and then skulked off into the market. I watched until I could see him no more. Taking a handkerchief from a pocket, I wiped the saliva off Dragon’s Justice barrel and turned back to the thaumaturge.
A large smile flashed across my face. “Well, old boy, it does seem you owe me a drink. Now, what say you bring out a flagon, whatever bottle you have behind the counter there, and let’s talk some business!â€
And so it was that Jarl Starblaze joined me in my travels. I later found out that those two goons were sent to do bodily harm to Jarl as well as take the wares he had in the tent. As such, Jarl felt a debt of gratitude toward me. When I explained why I first came to see him, and that my plans including traveling and performing, he offered to come along. For one thing, he would be happy to make the ammunition for Dragon’s Justice. For another, he could write and was happy to be my scribe. Thus did Jarl become my right hand man.