View source for MEETUP: Landlord Throw Away That Cork!

Selia is dancing on a table. Which might sound like the actions of a wild and happening party, but isn't, for a number of reasons. First and formost, the little halfer is a Dancer, so dancing is kinda what she does, regardless of situation. And she is pretty tiny, so not as if she monopolizing the use of the table, this is about the only way she can see and be seen, and it help in hearing the music. And finally, it might be dancing, but it's not really Dancing. More of a 'swaying back and forth and toe-tapping' sort of thing. Still, it speaks for a decent crowd at the Ox Strength, and a decent bit of music, at least for the moment.

Having nothing else to do and hearing something was going down at the same place she'd just had that fight earlier, Godwyn decided to make her way toward the Ox Strength, wearing her white-on-blue temple habit, blue silk pants, and her brown travel boots.
She didn't expect a party.
She also didn't expect table dancing, which she found herself smiling at. Sure the singing was off-key in places (something she was able to notice these days), but otherwise it was lively and not bad. She didn't add her voice, but she did clap her hands to the rhythm.
 
        Halfer or not, skilled dancer or not, the restrained dance might just be a good thing for everyone. Nobody wants to think about what happens if someone slips and knocks over a drink, after all! Arlean doesn't seem too concerned about that, though, seeing as how he's sitting at a table not too far away, mug of ale on the table in front of him, grinning as he watches the girl. He's seen her somewhere before...
        And the performer in him can't resist egging her on just a little bit. Unslinging the small hand drum he'd brought with him, Arlean stands up, takes his mug with an apologetic grin at the burly and wine-soaked hairball of a man -- we think -- next to him nursing his latest glass, and begins to tap out a rhythm for Selia. Not all that loud, and not all that fast. Just ... there.

‘’GAME: Arlean rolls drums: (2)+8: 10’’

Selia perks an ear at the new bit of rhythm, glancing around a bit. Takes a moment for the little Lucht to find the source, but she grins when she does. Not the best beat, but enough to work with. Shifting focus to the rest of the crowd, Selia starts a quite stomp to join the rhythm. Nothing complex, just a little rhythm of stomps and claps from that one band... the one popular with that one Queen from that little island nation... you know the one. Simple, but kinda catchy.

‘’GAME: Godwyn rolls Fortitude: (3)+10: 13’’

Godwyn took a sip from her wine glass, the first and only one she'd had so far. She didn't feel warm and fuzzy yet, but it was more than likely on the way. She chuckled at her own joke and clapped along to the new rhythm.

‘’GAME: Arlean rolls fortitude: (9)+2: 11’’

        Apparently Arlean's had a few already, judging by the simplicity of the beat and the grin he's wearing. Not precisely ... trashed ... but not in the best of shape either. Still, he keeps it simple, and that keeps it listenable. For now, at least. As Selia keeps going, he gives her a broad wink if she's looking; he doesn't appear to have spotted Godwyn just yet, temple attire or not.

‘’GAME: Selia rolls dexterity: (13)+6: 19’’
‘’GAME: Selia rolls fortitude: (5)+7: 12’’

Selia grins as a few voices start into the repeating chorus. Bending down, the halfer grabs a glass from the tabletop, without shifting her feet... she's very bendy... raising the glass high, Selia shouts "Drink up!" and tosses back the shot. And coughs hard. That uh... that wasn't -her- glass... probably should have check that before tossing it back. Ah well.

Godwyn chuckled at the antics of the Lucht dancer as she swirled the deep red drink around in her glass. Right, the drink's kicking in a little bit, and she felt just a tad more courageous. Well, not that she wasn't already, but you get the point. Godwyn hums along to the rest of the crowd. Still, she made her best attempt to restrain herself, for now. After all, she didn't think herself that good yet.
Especially at singing improvised lyrics.

‘’GAME: Arlean rolls sing: (15)+9: 24’’
‘’GAME: Arlean rolls fortitude: (10)+2: 12’’
 
        Who knows how many sets of lyrics are running around to this? It's simple enough to sing, so Arlean picks up a harmony line in his baritone voice, a note only and without lyrics, to supplement the somewhat shaky beat he's keeping on the small hand drum tucked under his arm. Evidently he's a better singer than a drummer! Who knew. He's still grinning like a fool, expression bright and inviting and cheerful. The beat tools around just a little bit, experimentally, but keeps the same basic rhythm. 

A person stumbles in from the back, from the direction of the kitchens. Svarshan looks over his shoulder, asking something in halting words. The sound doesn't travel far--is eaten alive by the hands on tables, voices over tankards. At the end of them, the cook nods, wiping his hand on the towel, and Svarshan steps back, then blinks a few times as his eyes adjust to the murky light.

‘’GAME: Selia rolls acrobatics: (12)+20: 32’’

Selia leaves it at one drink for now, and makes her way to a somewhat more central table. Somehow, without touching the floor. The back of a chair, a nail in a support post, places most people wouldn't consider stepping, but the tiny lucht makes it look like strolling down a sidewalk... if you happen to do casual cartwheels down the sidewalk. Have I mentioned that she's REALLY quite bendy?

Godwyn's eyes widened as the little thing executes an amazing sequence of leaps. She grinned and clapped her hands as the bar seemed to EXPLODE with cheers and praise. "That was amazing!" Of course, her voice didn't reach, but she yelled anyway.

Bounding inside, Boshter seems thrilled to be here! "HELLO EVERYONE," he booms out from the doorway.

‘’GAME: Arlean rolls drums: (10)+8: 18 (should be 16, -2 for being smashed)’’

Godwyn raised her glass as Boshter made his way in! "Hey!" Others around her, not knowing what was going on, raised their voices along with her. "Boshter, glad you could join us! Come, sit with me!" Maybe that was a bad idea, but she could take his hugs and keep standing.

‘’GAME: Arlean rolls fortitude: (4)+2: 6’’
 
        The drums have actually improved somewhat with Selia's impressive feat, but things are steadily getting crazier here. Svarshan's entrance -- from the kitchens -- and now Boshter bounding inside the door -- this place is nuts by a sailor's standards! The drums stop as Boshter draws the attention of the entire crowd, and even some of the drunks in the corner look up from their nursing of tankards -- and Arlean shakes his head. Finishes his ale. It doesn't get better. He shakes his head again, cheeks now quite bright. "Oy! Who be up fer a dance?" he shouts, the words slightly slurred, and strikes up a different beat, one that somehow manages to be steadier than the first even when he's clearly had more than his share.

Svarshan looks up and...stares. The muscles of his face twitch. Like a nervous tic. You know, pre-emptive. He makes his way towards the swaying drummer, "You wouldn't... Consserning. Charlie Horsse?" he asks him, pronouncing the words as well he can.

Somehow, Boshter find himself with a mug in his hand already. "Do you want a hug?" he asks Svarshan, happily.

Svarshan looks at Boshter in incomprehension, as though the arvek were a walking, talking tangerine. Which of course, Boshter is!

‘’GAME: Selia rolls perform/dance: (1)+16: 17’’
Godwyn blinked as Boshter simply passed her by, then frowned. "Okay, that didn't work..." She stood, wine glass still in her right hand, and made her way over. "Boshter!" She grinned toward Svarshan. "Hey, didn't think you were into this stuff. How are you?"

A grin slowly spreads across Selia's face as she looks to Arlean. "A dance is it? Alright laddo. Let's Dance." And then the lucht... stumbles. It certainly doesn't help that someone bumps into the table, nor that the table itself is a tad bit wobbly. The Tiny Dancer recovers swiftly enough, keeping her feet and even keeping to the beat... but the annoyed look on her face says that's not what she'd ment to do.
 
        The beat falters for a minute as Arlean is addressed by a walking magma rock with a tail. He shakes his head, picking up the beat again, though a little slower. "Not following ye, mate," he shoots back, though the dragonkin does get a nervous glance. 
        Thankfully, his drink hasn't been refilled yet, and his hands are too busy to request one. So preoccupied is he that he entirely misses Selia's little slip-up. 

The sith bobs his head a few times, and through the back of the throat, hums a few bars. The sound is rough, as one might expect from a reptile's throat, not unlike an alligator in the water. He adds, "'Come all ye friends I'll ssit you down, and ssing an oleful ditty. Twass a day in last month, we' ...do you. Happen to know it?" he asks. The words are slow and hopeful, and the sith's difficulty speaking returning as swiftly as the lyrics are over. At Godwyn's call out, he turns and lifts his jaw, and thumps his tail against the planks in greeting.

Lifting his mug, Boshter beams at everyone (even Godwyn!) and has a long drink from his mug. Down, down, down it goes. down the hatch. If there's a rule about when to drink, he is flagrantly ignoring it for the moment.
‘’GAME: Boshter rolls fort: (20)+13: 33’’

Godwyn smiled toward Boshter and glanced back at the goings-on. "I think I'll just head back to an empty seat." She didn't say HER seat, because that was probably taken. "Anyone wanna join me?"

Selia keeps to the beat, and to her feet, staying on the table. The little lucht isn't leaving just yet, but the big moment is gone, and might be a bit before it comes around again.

The Ox-Strength Tavern is one of those places that Solace would prefer to never set foot in. Sadly, the world seems to delight in finding reasons for him to do things he'd rather not - at least in this case, it seems to be a happy occasion. Sort of happy. Moderately happy. At the very least, he's not scowling as he walks in the door. He does pause just inside, though, blinking at the unexpected commotion. Someone doesn't read local social notices, it seems.

‘’GAME: Arlean rolls perform/sing: (9)+9: 18 (should be 16 for being trashed, kept forgetting - A)’’
‘’GAME: Arlean rolls drums-2: (12)+8+-2: 18’’
 
        A quick blink from Arlean. Not something he sings often, but the lyrics ... aye, those he's heard. He blinks again, then nods quickly. "Aye." The words are still a bit slurred. "I'll be givin' a go when this be over, sure." Another nervous glance, but he nods and finishes up the current number with a drumroll flourish that tries to be, then shakes his head. "Oy, someone want t'get me another ale?" He shakes out his hand. "Got a request. Wish me luck an' clap along, will ye?" he calls over the crowd in a roughened, slightly slurred baritone. 
        It's clear that drink is getting to the blonde bard, but what the hey? He's having a good time. He waits for a moment, then picks up a lyric:
:::::Come all ye friends I'll sit ya down and sing a doleful ditty,
:::::About a day last month when we started from the city....
        After the first verse, he adds the drum in a quick-tempo beat. A fine baritone voice is tempered by the drink leaning on his sense of pitch, but he knows his craft and is at least entertaining. 

Godwyn turned toward the sound of that familiar voice and smiled. "Okay, I need to be seated for this. He's good at what he does." She'd know, she sang with him. Hells, she even *learned* how to sing from him. Godwyn made her way toward the nearest open seat and settled down.

Svarshan thumps his tail in time with the slurred lyrics. After a time, he thumps the bard on the back before making his way over towards the now-seated paladin. 
:::::We ssseven men came roaring down
:::::On the road to Roaches Line,
:::::We might have stopped in Davondale or Brigusss might have been fine,
:::::We wasss hungry as sin but we never ssstopped in
:::::Nor took any time to park usss,
:::::We all of us knew that we must get through to remove old Charlie's carcassss!
Not a slur. There's a strange, warm look in the sith's eyes and he reaches for one of the drinks, and toasts Godwyn with it, then Solace, before reaching down and urging the Sentinel back to her feet!

Selia grins at the new song choice, and claps along with the tune, edging her way over towards the drunken drummer. Not quite so much a show in the crossing this time, but the Dancer's rythmn has been thrown off, and it takes a bit to get that sort of thing back.

Solace recognizes that voice as well, and his smile warms as he looks for it. Before he finds where the bard is, though, he finds...well, a table-dancing lucht. After a moment or two, the half-Mul realizes that his jaw is hanging loose, so he coughs, raises a quick hand in greeting, and looks for a place to sit down. And Svarshan and Godwyn are here too, he notes, shaking his head with a groan. "Have neither of you any regard for the dignity of your stations?" he asks, just loud enough to be heard. It's a gentle chiding, though, and he plops into a chair as he calls for a drink for himself. One strong enough to kill whatever might be living on the glasses in this place.

Godwyn's eyes widened at Svarshan's voice. He was a quite good singer, it turned out! Godwyn took his hand and got to her feet to join him. He certainly knew how to put attention on someone.
 
        Arlean nearly staggers as he's slapped on the back, looking over at the dragonkin in surprise, but after a wide-eyed look, he shrugs and keeps going. Show must go on, right? The drums keep steady time after a moment of falter, and he's even warming to the tune, grinning. His grin broadens as he finally spots Godwyn -- with the dragon kin?! OK, so maybe he's not a freak - the bard relaxes. At least a little bit. 
:::::Here's to Charlie Horse
:::::Here's to Shade the Master,
:::::No better horse ne'er ran the course
:::::Nor pulled the logs more faster;
:::::Here's to Charlie Horse
:::::And I want ye all to know,
:::::Charlie's gone to the big corral
:::::Where all good horses go

Svarshan grasps Godwyn by the forearm, and urges her into the crowds. If the route takes them past Solace, well. Just throw an arm about the artificer's shoulders, too, and pick up the chorus. As Arlean leads with the drums, the song winds through--the friends barreling down to the frozen pond, and Charlie's legend, too.
:::::We gave him a decent sssend off with all our hatss removed,
:::::So long as we helped old Sshave and his friend, our loyalty wass proved.
:::::Ssssomewhere up in the great beyond hiss eyess are shining bright,
:::::Charlie nods an approving nod causse he knowsss we did him right.
:::::Ssshave will join him there one day and he'll bring the harness leather...
     
:::::....and sso and for all of eternity they'll pull the logss together!
He thumps his tail in time with it, enjoying the one time, the one sort of time, when he's not stumbling over his words.

‘’GAME: Selia rolls stealth: (7)+29: 36’’

Selia has other places to be, and other tables to dance upon. But the show must go on, or at least end with a bang. So it's with a more than impish smile the Dancer creeps up on Arlean, waiting for the song to end before leaning close to give him a big kiss. And then disappear. It's not like magic, it IS magic... and not the wizardly sort. This is older... colder... the dark shadows of the room reaching out to embrace one of there own and help her away... somewhere Else.

The crowd responds with cheers and whistles as she simply... disappears. Poof! Just like that! Conversations start up again and some of the various voices, discordant but merry, try to start up a song again. They sorta fail, but that's not the point.

Solace is swept up by a large, draconic forearm, with an inarticulate noise of protest. Once he's /in/ the dance, though, sheer bloody pride forebears him dodging out. Instead, Solace throws himself into the last bit of the song with a surprising, perhaps, intensity. Maybe just to ensure that he's not trampled into the ground. But after the song's done, he wipes his suddenly damp forehead, and gives Svarshan an amused look. "People usually ASK first, you know."

Godwyn turned toward Svarshan, eyes wide. "You're quite good at that. Didn't know you could sing, Sunblade!" Godwyn turned toward Solace. "And a fine evening to you as well."

Svarshan smiles, almost. Or it is a smile. He passes his tankard over to the artificer. "I...you looked. Like you could usse the..." he loses words again, and then just shakes his head. Shakes his head again to Godwyn, too, and points a finger to his muzzle in reply. The words are just gone. ...again.
 
        Arlean himself finishes the song with a laugh and a flourish -- and then there's lips on his cheek! He turns to look, with a, "What in ...." And she's gone, veritably disappearing into the shadows. He stops cold, looking after her and rubbing his cheek. "How does she /do/ that?" he asks, loud enough to be heard but of no one in particular. "Oy!" Now that the music has quieted, he holds up a finger to a passing barmaid, who nods and swishes off along her errands. "Aye, that was fun, no? But I be thinkin' I see sommat as oughta be heard, too. Sentinel, up wit' ye." He flashes Godwyn a broad grin. 

Godwyn chuckled. "...company. I think." She hazarded a guess, and hoped it was right. Maybe it was the drink talking. Godwyn turned toward Svarshan again. "So then, what have you been up to lately?"

At Godwyn's words, Svarshan looks towards Solace, panicked. The bard Arlean's announcement is met with a thump of tail, however.

Godwyn blinked as she got called out. "Who, me?" She looked around at the crowd. "You'll have to get me a bit more invested to sing here. Besides, I don't know any songs..." She blushed. "Well, one or two, maybe."

Solace takes the drink, then takes a drink. Because he assumes that's either an invitation, or a tax for the indignity. "Gods, this place has terrible...everything, really." He shakes his head again. He grins at Godwyn. "And a very find evening to you, Sentinel." He ignores Svarshan's panic, because he's a bastard, but at Arlean's words, he laughs. "Ah, ha, Sentinel Godwyn. I believe you are summoned to the stage by our master bard. I do so look forward to hearing you."

‘’GAME: Solace rolls fortitude: (2)+5: 7’’

Godwyn blushed and gave a brief smile. "Okay, if you say so." She clapped her hands for a moment. "Another song!"
The bar cheered as she made her way to the center of the room. If she was going to do this, she might as well do it all the way.

‘’GAME: Godwyn rolls Sing: (12)+8: 20’’
‘’GAME: Arlean rolls fortitude: (20)+2: 22’’
‘’GAME: Arlean rolls sing: (11)+9: 20 (again should be 18, not 20 for drinkness)’’
 
        "Invested? Mayhaps a round'll remind ye." Arlean's about to say something else when Godwyn gets up and joins him on what really isn't a stage at all so much as a clearish space. Ish. "Aye, yer kind t'grace me. Now." He repositions the drum. "Where's that ...." And it's about this time that the barmaid shows up with his ale. First things first - coin changes hands and he takes a drink from the tankard before gesturing her to begin and picking up the hand drum again. He's clearly letting her lead. 

The drink goes straight from Solace's mouth to his brain, without apparently spending much time in his stomach. He blinks a couple of times. "Bloody...what in the dark dreamer's blood-frothed spit /is/ this?" he mutters at the mug, and thrusts it back towards Svarshan. He blinks again, as if trying to clear his eyes of a film, then turns towards the stage.

"It iss...not bad." Words. Svarshan manages four of them and thumps his tail once with the accomplishment. As the bard and singer prepare to wind up again, he begins to look anticipatory...enough to nudge the artificer, and gesture towards the stage, then his own muzzle: you sing? that asks.

Godwyn takes in a breath and closes her eyes. By the time she opens them again, they seem more, alive somehow. Yes, that's the word for it. Alive.
She did it before, she'd do it again!
Godwyn took in another breath and began to sing...
:::::The wind was a torrent of darkness upon the gusty trees,
:::::The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
:::::The road was a ribbon of moonlight looping the purple moor,
:::::And the highwayman came riding
:::::Riding riding
:::::The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn door.

:::::He'd a French cocked hat on his forehead, and a bunch of lace at his chin;
:::::He'd a coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of fine doe-skin.
:::::They fitted with never a wrinkle; his boots were up to his thigh!
:::::And he rode with a jeweled twinkle
:::::His rapier hilt a-twinkle
:::::His pistol butts a-twinkle, under the jeweled sky.

"It's not bad, Svarshan, because I'm reasonably scher--certain that it kills all the taste buds on contact," Solace says. Then does his best to ignore the nudge - because if there ever looked like a fellow who Does Not Sing, the dour half-Mul is probably that fellow. Still. "She's not bad," he says, and that's all he says, folding his arms over his chest and half-closing his eyes to listen to the song over the background noise.

Svarshan bobs his head in reply, and then slows the thump of his tail the slower beat of the song. One and two... Thump. ...thump. ...thump. When the opportunity presents itself, he grasps another tankard as it makes its way by, and salutes the performer with it. "Sssa. ...sshould." Words, words. "Ssinging choir," he finishes. Meaning they should invite Godwyn along to one of the local singing groups.

        Arlean grins encouragement, but this is a song that really wants simplicity, and after a moment, he sets the drum aside. He waits several verses in before adding his own baritone voice as background, and then only as a backup. He tilts his head as he listens. 

She glanced around at the crowd. They were apt, listening to her sing. Definitely worth doing this, and she was glad Arlean was drunk enough to get her to stand up. She was lucky enough not to be too drunk to sing!
:::::Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard,
:::::He tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred,
:::::He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
:::::But the landlord's black-eyed daughter
:::::Bess, the landlord's daughter
:::::Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

:::::Dark in the dark old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked
:::::Where Tim, the ostler listened--his face was white and peaked
:::::His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay,
:::::But he loved the landlord's daughter
:::::The landlord's black-eyed daughter;
:::::Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say:

:::::"One kiss, my bonny sweetheart; I'm after a prize tonight,
:::::But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light.
:::::Yet if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
:::::Then look for me by moonlight,
:::::Watch for me by moonlight,
:::::I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way."
Godwyn's voice tapered off there and she lifted her glass in salute. It was all she felt brave enough to sing.

Solace chuckles at Svarshan. "Bet she would say yes," he says without looking away from the young Sentinel on the stage. Other than that, he's completely silent until she's finished. Then he is among the first to start applauding, although only by a fraction of a moment - there's nothing a bunch of drinkers love more than a tragic love song, after all. Someone might start crying.

Svarshan thumps his tail in applause, as do a number of patrons there. The Ox is a sailor's bar at its heart, and few things are as appreciated. He thumps it a few more times before taking a drink, then adding. "Sssa. You know." Pause. "...I think. Myrana added sssomething to thiss. Brew." He looks at it suspiciously, but takes another drink anyway. "Chiliss?"

Godwyn gave a bow and stepped off the stage. She marched her way toward Arlean with a grin. "Don't even think about pressing me like that again. But thank you for doing it."
‘’GAME: Svarshan rolls fort: (8)+31: 39’’
 
        Amid the applause that follows a moment of silence after she's clearly done, Arlean simply laughs as Godwyn chides him. "Ye did fine, Sentinel. Make no mistake," he tells her, grinning back. "Give yerself a break, aye?" He makes no move towards her, but his grin is all rather drunken good cheer. "'Sides, I like hearin' ye too." With that, he looks around at the crowd, and then over at Godwyn's companions. "Any o' yer mates sing at all?" 

Godwyn bowed. "Well you taught me. Then again, if it hadn't been for that one time in the Gardens, I wouldn't have found out I could sing this well."

Solace snorts. "In this place, I wouldn't ask what she puts in the drink, if I were you." And yet, he orders a mug of the fiery stuff for himself, taking a sip of it when it arrives. Arlean gets a smile. "So, you're the one who's corrupting these fine upholders of the right? Should have guessed..."
‘’GAME: Solace rolls fortitude-2: (9)+5+-2: 12’’

Svarshan smiles at that, and follows Solace's order with another drink of his own. And then another, before reaching out to grasp Godwyn's shoulder. It takes him a moment. For a moment he gazes off into nothing--then he blinks, refocusing on the Sentinel, and, "Do you know. County. ...Ffair?" he asks her.

Godwyn shrugged. "You know, I've heard of it... I suppose I could give it a try."
 
        Arlean's up in a semi-cleared space that is serving as a stage for the moment, talking to Godwyn. "Then I done sommat right." He flashes a grin at her, but then looks over at Solace as Godwyn's attention turns elsewhere. "Ye know, tis strange," he answers, reaching for his mug and taking another long drink. "Not all of 'em have got poles up their arses. Couldn't ha' told me that afore I got 'ere." 

‘’GAME: Godwyn rolls Fortitude: (7)+10: 17’’

Solace can't feel his tongue any more. He says, to Arlean, "Disgraceful, isn't it?" And his voice has that careful cadence, the measured tones of someone who is forced to concentrate on the words to keep them from running together or slurring.

Svarshan nods and begins thumping his tail along with some beat. It starts out slow, then picks up a tempo and sway. At that point, he drops an arm around either of them, and looks to the drummer with a lift of chin. Trusting Arlean to know it, or be skilled enough to fake it.
:::::Every year when ssummer comess around
:::::They sstretch a banner 'crosss the main sstreet in town
:::::You can feel ssomethin's happenin' in the air
:::::Well, from Carol's housse up on Telegraph Hill
:::::You can ssee the lightss going up out in Ssoldiers Field
:::::Getting ready, for the county fair...
     
Thump, thump thump. Svarshan isn't much of a dancer, but he makes the words work. And the...Myrana definitely added chilis to the brew. Just a touch of them. He works on holding Solace up. Can't have him falling over. Not going to happen. Because paladins.

‘’GAME: Arlean rolls drums-2: (2)+8+-2: 8’’

Godwyn took another sip, and headed for the stage again, this time at a jog. Right, time to see if she could make this work.
The crowd wasn't even there. Well they were, but their presence didn't affect her as much. One success breeds another!
Godwyn took in a breath... and followed Svarshan's lead.
:::::County fair, county fair,
:::::Everybody in town'll be there
:::::So come on, hey we're goin' down there
:::::(hey) Little girl with the long blond hair
:::::Come win your daddy one of them stuffed bears
:::::Baby, down at the country fair
:::::Now it's getting late before we head back to town
:::::We let that fortune wheel spin around
:::::Come on mister tell me what's waiting out there
:::::On my way out I steal a kiss in the dark
:::::Hope I can remember where our horses are
:::::Baby, out at the county fair
"
Godwyn sang in her natural soprano, and her voice was even clearer and stronger than last time. Tradespeak this time instead of elven tongues, and perhaps it was better for it.
 
        "Fun ain't never disgraceful," Arlean tells Solace, his own words more than a little slurred. Not until Svarshan's tail starts the beat does he pick up that something else is starting. Wait what? his expression reads as he catches the look from the Sunblade, and hastily, he picks up the drum and listens. The drink is clearly getting to him, though -- the beat he picks up is off time by about half a beat. It's really quite the mess, but he doesn't seem aware of it -- he's only half-listening anyway. 

Solace listens to the song, swaying back and forth in...rough...approximation of the rhythm. He sways into Svarshan occasionally, and is gently righted by the makar. He's a short man with elven-infused stamina, which means that drink is going /right/ to his head, and it doesn't even seem to bother him now. Of course, a lot of things are bothering him less. He laughs at Arlean's scrambled performance. "Tell me, sir bard, do you know the sad, sad tale of John Barleycorn? I could share it if you don't." And that's as close as even a drunken Solace gets to offering to sing.

Thump. Thump thump. Svarshan rights the artificer again, while providing an accompanying voice to Godwyn's song. When the drums falter, he sings LOUDER.
It's the only way to do it.
Eventually though, it has to come to a close--the summer evening, the sweethearts and the fairgrounds. He reaches for his drink again and smiles quietly as Solace steps forward to speak with the swaying bard. Words. He nudges Godwyn in companionship. But. Words.

Godwyn grinned up at Svarshan. He didn't need words. She could understand him just fine.
The applause followed her as she descended from the stage. Maybe a few drinks was a good thing now and then.

<OOC> Svarshan says, "I love, love, love Bruce's voice."
<OOC> Svarshan says, "Reminds me of Cash, but. ...and this isn't a pun on Cash's passing. It's more Bruce has a...inner life to him. If that makes sense. <.<;"
‘’GAME: Arlean rolls fortitude: (16)+2: 18’’
‘’GAME: Solace rolls fortitude-2: (15)+5+-2: 18’’
 
        "Na. Don't know that one, mate." The drums stop, almost absently, when Godwyn does, and Arlean picks up his mug of ale again amid the applause. It seems like it's sort of ... passing him by, although he continues to grin like a fool. It's probably a good thing he's seated, and getting him out of here might be interesting. At least he's slowed down some. "You oughta try it." 

"Tch. Every bard should know the sad story of Sir John," Solace declares, and takes the stage. His drinking does not seem to have made him worse, although he moves with exaggerated slowness so he doesn't stumble. He raises the mug. "Everyone! A toast to the good Sir John, whose tragedy we profit by!" And with that, he stomps out the beat so that Arlean can pick it up with the drums, and sings. His voice is a bit muzzy from the drink, and clearly untrained, not that it's needed for a drinking song. Which this is...
:::::There were three men came out of the west, their fortunes for to try.
:::::And these three men made a solemn vow, John Barleycorn must die...
Yes, leave it to Solace to pick the one drinking song where the making of booze is turned into an extended and rather graphic metaphor for murder. It's got a good beat, though.

‘’GAME: Arlean rolls drums-2: (1)+8+-2: 7’’
‘’GAME: Godwyn rolls Sing: (3)+8: 11’’
‘’GAME: Solace rolls sing: (16)+sing: 16’’

Godwyn picked up the song.
:::::They've plowed, they've sown, they've harrowed him in
:::::Threw clods upon his head
:::::And these three men made a solemn vow
:::::John Barleycorn was dead
Granted, it wasn't as good as her last performances, but it could be forgiven. She still sounded well enough.

After a moment, Svarshan follows along. The tail thumps with the artificer and Sentinel's voice, and he joins in on the parts he knows. 'Long, long beard,' and 'the scythes so sharp,' with just the thumping of tail in the middle of it. 
He raises his mug in the midst of the slow-sway song, pauses. ...then breaks from the song a moment to grasp another from a passing staff.
 
        Arlean cocks his head, listening rather muzzily. This is a new one on him, and while he tries to join in on the drums, about all he manages is to knock the drum over. Laughing, he picks up his ale and nurses it some more -- and never mind the drum lying on the floor at his feet. Yeah, stick a fork in him, he's done.

The alcohol seems to have loosened something in Solace, for his song is clear and strong. Or perhaps it's just the (slightly ghoulish) glee on which he lingers on poor Barleycorn's fate, with the crabtree sticks to cut him skin from bone, and the miller grinding him between the stones. But once he hits the end of the song, he's encouraging every drinker to join in with waves of his hands, untilt he final verse is shouted (to varying degrees of accuracy) by almost the whole damn bar. And then he's done, bowing neatly to the crowd...and almost tumbling onto his head before he rights himself. "Bloody miserable floor. Needs to stay in the same place," he says, but offers Arlean an indulgent smile as he returns to the crowd.

Godwyn, eventually, was the one to help him up. "That was fine work, Solace. Very fine work." She didn't sound sarcastic or cutting, just truthful.

Svarshan looks down at the fallen bard. He stands there in indecision for a moment as his mug's refilled...then fills in and goes along as best he remembers the words. It goes something like this:
:::::They've wheeled him around and <hum hum> ...the field,
:::::Till they came unto a barn,
:::::And there they ... <hum hum>,
:::::On poor John Barleycorn.
...He reaches down, and hauls the artificer back up by the chrome. And stands there for a moment. ...then joins the rest in applause and drink.

Solace is hauled by Svarshan, /and/ helped by Godwyn. It's a plethora of aid, and he takes the hand Godwyn puts out to help him up, and instead pivots to bow over it, his mouth brushing the air a fraction above her fingers. "A lady and a scholar," he declares, too heartily, as he straightens. "And you, sir, are a...dragon and a scholar. Or a dragon and a warrior. Whichever. You don't get the bow, though. Too bloody big."

"...there wasss...a ssmall one onse. Who wanted to put. Bowss on my tail," the sith admits. The words are slow. Just slow. He smiles a touch. Evidently the kid wasn't all bad. And then he takes a step back, to put his drink on a nearby table.
[[Category:Logs]]