Author Topic: Another night at the bar  (Read 10660 times)

Offline Niccal

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Another night at the bar
« on: July 19, 2011, 01:38:01 am »
Niccal grins as she enters the bar and is greeted by a rowdy crowd, some calling out to her by name. She shakes her head, laughing freely as she takes a moment to greet several of the patrons.

After a moment, she pulls away from the crowd and hops onto the counter, giving a wink at the colorfully dressed bartender. She kicks her feet, allowing her heels to hit the bar and hums under her breath as she takes in her surroundings, making note of who she sees.

Dwarves sat in the corner of the bar, mugs of mead in their beefy hands, possible slanderous words slurring from their lips.

Androgynous looking, assumingly  male, elves flirt with a handful of young women who sat in the back, close to the empty stage.

A small group of men, consisting of different races, as well as a small group of women, also consisting of different races loitered on the tables and benches set up  within the bar.

The bartender smirks as she finishes the orders of other patrons and hands Niccal a large mug filled to the brim with root beer, Niccal's preferred beverage.

"How's the crowd tonight, Sherron?" Niccal asks, wiping the foam from her lips after taking a sip. She turned her head slightly as she catches from the corner of her eye, Sherron shrugging, moving away to tend to other patrons. Niccal wiggles her eyebrows, waiting for an answer.

"The crowd is as usual." The bartender replied, her voice a bit clipped. "Four broken glasses and the bell has not reached the tenth mark yet." Niccal chuckled, a grin on her lips, hidden by the mug once more.

"Suppose I should take the stage?"

"It -is- your night to entertain."

"What if I don't want to?" Niccal ducks, using one hand to cover the top of her mug as she spotted a bottle thrown in her direction. It shattered behind her head, showering bits of glass against her back. She lifts it and scans the crowd, a giggle coming from her lips.

"Well, then you can be my bodyguard." Sherron replied, a scowl on hers.

"Ah, gladly, Sherry." Niccal snickered and straightens, taking another sip of her drink. "But I think it would be more beneficial for the crowd, if I do my duty." She sets the mug down and moves to hop off of the counter. "Keep my drink cold, will ya, Sher?"

Niccal sidesteps a large man trying to impress a group of women with his massive size and takes glances around as she reaches the stage. She smirks and moves back a few steps and takes a run, doing a cartwheel onto a table, upsetting its occupants and lands on the stage. Just barely.

She does another flip and lands in the middle of the stage, arms outstretched. She sighs, wrinkling her nose as she realizes no one actually cared. She sits down and pulls out her violin from its case in her traveling trunk.

"Oy! You lot! Quiet down, now! Niccal's 'bout ready to sing!" The bartender bellowed at the crowd. Sherron gave Niccal a wink and resumes her duty. The crowd quiets slightly but resumes their interrupted conversations.

Niccal shrugs and lifts the bow from its place and places it on the strings.

She plays, at first mindful of any requests, slowly driving herself into a musical trance. Her lips open and soft words begin to fall, the words belonging to another.

White grows the lily, Red grows the rose

Here lies my laddie, See how he grows

One day he'll leave me, To cross shadowed sea

Pray gods protected him, keep him safe with me


The rose shows its wisdoms, from love lost on youth

Protector of passions and solider of truth

For royal resplendence I bow to its bloom

But thorns rest beneath it, and there lies my doom


White grows the lily, Red grows the rose

Here lies my laddie, See how he grows

Soon must he leave me, To cross shadowed sea

Pray gods protected him, let him stay free


The Lily knows little, but innocence scorned

On banner of blood shed for villains adorned

like pale ghosts in moonlight, I fear for their fate

to grow on a gravesite, may yet be too late


White grows the lily, Red grows the rose

Here lies my laddie, See how he grows

Now he must leave me, And cross shadowed sea

Pray gods protected him, return him to me


This garden is weary, its soil is tolled

Of decades in turmoil, its left bled for gold

My son is a child, but man he'll soon be

with red rose upon him, he'll die by lily


White grows the lily, Red grows the rose

Here lies my laddie, oh how the wind blows!

Now he has left me, to lie neath green lee

Pray gods protect him, keep him safe for me
Lady Asrune Rowan

She stills as she finishes the song, blinking away the wetness that formed in her eyes. The bar is quiet, expect for the occasional conversation and sniffles. Niccal peers at the crowd and makes a sheepish face as she realizes she only caused them to become somber. At least no bar fights will erupt tonight... Hopefully?

« Last Edit: July 19, 2011, 01:58:05 am by Niccal »
"The great object of life is sensation, to feel that we exist, even though in pain." ~ Lord Byron

"A masochist walked up to a sadist, and said 'Hurt me'. The sadist said 'No' and walked away." ~ Author Unknown