The ditch was muddy, and smelled of orobon guts and the slight dank of lower areas in the Shroud, but it was well-hidden, and far enough from Buscarron's place to give him a chance to breathe, which he did, in large gulps of air.
He set his back against the rockface there. He probably could have handled Spenser, though the man hit like a truck when he was drunk, but the dozen angry Red Wasps were another story. Thirteen was an unlucky number, anyway, and Buscarron would never even consider allowing the bard back to the Druthers if Nathan had stayed to pull the whole establishment into a massive brawl over one song.
Outlaws, no sense of humor. He looked down, and shook his head. It was going to take hours to get the mud out of his boots and the smell of ale out of his tunic.
*20 minutes earlier*
Nathan Telluride, itinerant bard, leaned back into the corner at Buscarron's Druthers, where the proprietor had given him leave to play a few tunes for a night's food and lodging. He bowed his head to a rough crowd - the sort that respected Buscarron ten times more than they liked each other - and patted his prized possession, his custom-made lute.
"This is one that pulled a laugh from the bonny pirates at the Drowning Wench in Limsa Lominsa, gathered gentles, and I think you might get a good chuckle out of it yourselves."
The song had a jumping tempo, the sort that was meant to get a roomful of travelers tapping toes:
"Oh what a friend we have in Bahamut
He cares about us all equally...
If you see him, you'll be fried
Just as a million others died
He'll burn your eyes out so you cannot see
I had lost my lady fair and my chocobo
And every breath I took felt like a curse
Then I thought how I could die
Cooked by fire from the sky
And remembered life could be much worse.
Just how big a friend is Bahamut?
He's unlike any chum you've ever known
He's larger than a keep, and you'll have no time to weep
Before he sears your flesh and blood clean from your bones
Now deep within his prison in Dalamud
The dragon slumbers waiting for his hour
When he bursts forth from the moon, which we know he will do soon
He will spread his wings and show our world his power
He'll end all of your problems in a moment
Even if you are a pauper and lovelorn
From your debt and slavery
He will come to set you free
When the cataclysm is reborn
So if you can, make friends with Bahamut
Before he strips the world of all its life
When you see him, you'll be cooked
Ere you get one final look
And he'll grant us liberation from our strife
So, what a friend we have in Bahamut
He cares about us all equally
If you see him, you'll be fried
Just as a million others died
And he'll burn your eyes out so you cannot...
Sear your eyes out so you cannot...
Fry your eyes out so you cannot see."
((with apologies to the Gulf Coast's most incredible mad-science rock band: The Consortium of Genius: COG: What A Friend We Have In Cthulhu ))
He set his back against the rockface there. He probably could have handled Spenser, though the man hit like a truck when he was drunk, but the dozen angry Red Wasps were another story. Thirteen was an unlucky number, anyway, and Buscarron would never even consider allowing the bard back to the Druthers if Nathan had stayed to pull the whole establishment into a massive brawl over one song.
Outlaws, no sense of humor. He looked down, and shook his head. It was going to take hours to get the mud out of his boots and the smell of ale out of his tunic.
*20 minutes earlier*
Nathan Telluride, itinerant bard, leaned back into the corner at Buscarron's Druthers, where the proprietor had given him leave to play a few tunes for a night's food and lodging. He bowed his head to a rough crowd - the sort that respected Buscarron ten times more than they liked each other - and patted his prized possession, his custom-made lute.
"This is one that pulled a laugh from the bonny pirates at the Drowning Wench in Limsa Lominsa, gathered gentles, and I think you might get a good chuckle out of it yourselves."
The song had a jumping tempo, the sort that was meant to get a roomful of travelers tapping toes:
"Oh what a friend we have in Bahamut
He cares about us all equally...
If you see him, you'll be fried
Just as a million others died
He'll burn your eyes out so you cannot see
I had lost my lady fair and my chocobo
And every breath I took felt like a curse
Then I thought how I could die
Cooked by fire from the sky
And remembered life could be much worse.
Just how big a friend is Bahamut?
He's unlike any chum you've ever known
He's larger than a keep, and you'll have no time to weep
Before he sears your flesh and blood clean from your bones
Now deep within his prison in Dalamud
The dragon slumbers waiting for his hour
When he bursts forth from the moon, which we know he will do soon
He will spread his wings and show our world his power
He'll end all of your problems in a moment
Even if you are a pauper and lovelorn
From your debt and slavery
He will come to set you free
When the cataclysm is reborn
So if you can, make friends with Bahamut
Before he strips the world of all its life
When you see him, you'll be cooked
Ere you get one final look
And he'll grant us liberation from our strife
So, what a friend we have in Bahamut
He cares about us all equally
If you see him, you'll be fried
Just as a million others died
And he'll burn your eyes out so you cannot...
Sear your eyes out so you cannot...
Fry your eyes out so you cannot see."
((with apologies to the Gulf Coast's most incredible mad-science rock band: The Consortium of Genius: COG: What A Friend We Have In Cthulhu ))
"But in the laugh there was another voice. A clearer laugh, an ironic laugh. A laugh which laughs because it chooses not to weep."
![[Image: 3610850.jpg]](http://assets-cloud.enjin.com/users/1266293/pics/original/3610850.jpg)
