Old Times Bard

 Norrian Shaigan rested in his hammock aboard one of those seafaring vessels. Headed to the independent cities of the Unknown Lands this bard started to hum more to himself. Feeling drawn to these lands he heard of this bard took in a deep breath. Locals, tribes, adventurers, missionaries, outlaws, fugitives know the true name of those Unknown Lands past the independent cities. One of fifty-two traveling bards, Norrian came to visit all the independent cities of this wild continent called Jurax. From the streets, caravan, festivals, weddings, birthdays, concerts, tournaments Norrian overheard stories about these lands. Yet the Wendoji on their peninsulas and islands stood next to the mountains that cut off these wild lands from everything else. Many of them could have traveled on their lug sailed Junks, or Dhows. Yet their Eldari Elf craftsman gave them sturdy vessels to make this voyage. 

Too many stories, overwhelming tales, epics, sagas, oracles, came from this one region. Oral communication in whispers, mutterings, ramblings, wild rumors lured him to travel. Donic, Cydnam's Wyvern Knight navigated to this territory.  Axus the Smart gave the western states a new route for traffic to the eastern parts of Calorn. Derro the Separatist of Nevradit defied the elected Chancelor Nooj from the shores of Nevradit to the edges of the Eoth, Grussian Mountains. Authorities sent Grunt Henchmen after Derro who brought them past Rednight Fangsir. Eoman overheard of an Oracle involving the Priestess, a hubby to some Gigolo. This Oracle narrowed it down to getting a spy on the Gigolo who was mistaken for taking drugs. Once the spy found out this Priestly Oracle said to break the mountain. Then their partner would stop acting in such a strange way. After checking the destruction of the settlement, the hubby discovered there was a cult worshipping a Rat God that commands each worshipper to become filthy. He thought of some songs for each as he stretched his legs a little. Either it is good or it sucks, as in it bores or angers fans. 

Damis Sailing Ship or DSS Odorgas spent ten days since they left Bethone port, Eoth's foreign coastal city. As a Bard he was really on the run while looking for gigs in these cities. You went to court, they let you go. Norrian thought to himself.  His eyes scanned the interior of their section of the ship. Along the walls Norrian spotted 12 large chests, 4 smaller chests, and decorated head bust. Rhangael the Boatswain Steward pulled elven other chests up to the upper deck with the available crew members. One gamer known as Wigich was a master of various Games would become the cause of Lost and Found. Passengers were able to handle Witch Craft's best Conductor lovingly. He could only think to strap them to a suitcase and travel. The Wigich did not allow him to have his own cabin for his own luggage and quarters. From his spot he watched the decluttering of the Wigich's Hull of all the passengers' hoarding. 

Seven days, for seven days Norrian the bard aimed to earn a living while letting other Bards delve into this continent's History. Island Kingdoms such as Ivodra, or Dunegz paid adventurers to explore past the cities of Jurax. Dunegz Overlord, Grix the Top Hat Skull ordered failures into Dungeons. All one brought was Lattice Fencing as prove. Something that was becoming more common. Their excuse was it was too far to travel any further from Magesar, one of the city states along Jurax Coast. Norrian prayed that Damis was not a place they considered too far to explore from. At first, he felt a little cornered from the pressure of heading to these cities. Yet he reminded himself of why he is here. No there is room for you they are just being manipulated. No companions to travel with he shifted out of his hammock. In a grouping of eighty-seven other travelers Norrian prepared to disembark. Six meals in one day like an aristocrat in his own ship captain sounded nice. One ship some crew acted like they already fed it. Meaning the passenger. Gathering his traveling gear, what little luggage he brought Norrian made his way off the vessel. Water splashed part of his boots while walking down the gangway. Waters here appeared choppy. His ears picked up one of the sailor's proverbs or sayings. It just needs a rinse two more times. Rinsed with salt water was deemed a curse to others as the waters splashed their feet. Wet shoes made everyone miserable. Especially those who were not used to the sea or coasts. 

Whichever city they stopped at Norrian felt a little loopy from looking at the structures that lined the ports. Just looking at the city itself, he could tell it was already a busy bootcamp or barracks. Sea salt, various meals over fires, fireplaces, torches, pleasant aromas wafted into his nostrils. Even the smells of a cistern slipped in. It only reminded him of what he had to cover up. If you did not wake up in a cell as of dawn this morning you know what that means. Norrian thought these words to himself pulling up a sophisticated Bard to present to the public within himself. 

"No it is their way to escape bullies." Norrian said to himself attempting to cover up a slight gulp. 

"They wanted to burn it to rebuild, this Parmoon." Another Bard called Corwin the Dancer pointed out to a trifling Charlatan he sort of knew as Faza or Fazai from Lunkwood. 

"Ten to fifteen years ago a small family or arch clan of vermin, Callicantzori were found on board a Caravel from the Nevoran side of Calorn." Grear the Deckhand put in while carrying a small crate of Black Rabbit Wine. 

Norrian did not want to hear why destruction was going to be involved. Seeing the houses, and structures he moved away from the other passengers. In a confident waltz of a walk the Bard pressed for the nearest taverns, or bazaars of this city. Markets covered the sections along the docks like a wall of vendors and shops. Left with enough room for dockhands to perform their duties the markets acted as an introduction to this city. Squinting his eyes he started to count the number of houses. All he could tell himself was this. Calm down you will be employed. His own gaze caught the attention of whom he presumed as the Hegemon Guard. They called you a racist before you entered is what he wanted to comment to this fellow foreigner certainly a long way from home. Norrian's gaze returned to the houses he spotted behind workshops, warehouses, tower style houses, Inns, and Taverns. Erected higher than most of these structures stood a hand of blue stone with an arcane symbol on it. Bewildered by this Norrian did not see did not see the tendrils of suppression cast on him from both sides. His face landed in some muck or mud on the street. He was fortunate that this did not give off an odor. Caught off guard this Bard thought of the miscreants' prowling cities like this. Norrian could not see who it was due to the gunk covering his face. 

"Two years of this spell's usage its casters only caught dangers, hostile targets. As for you swindler. Some fines are in good order." A familiar voice to his ears stated as a boot pressed on his right leg. 

"Lexhis Khon. So, the guys and girls are taking forever to grow up?" Norrian managed to mock a little as he struggled to get up. 

"Hussar, Uhlan are among those I brought over on behalf of the Zullebargers, and Tysiniers. The ones behind a pretty bounty on you." 

"Over one hundred houses, jack ass over here caused me to lose count." Norrian complained with sarcasm in his voice. 

"Count again if you want. Just start with the right side." The Uhlan countered his insult. 

Khon's Hussar placed a horse's blinder with the right side taken off. Norrian hoped the authorities of this city would butt in to rescue him. Then his memory kicked in. Could it be over that animated golem hoard that Imhotep the Exile from Ottante cast on Kersios Port? He was involved with him until that incident. Or was it his sudden association with the Stalking Dead, a group of assassins formed out of revenants who sought revenge. None of them came as the Uhlans and Hussars acting as police, bounty hunters, and guards rather than captors appeared convincing. The one named Korcher gripped his right arm with a bit roughness to it has they hauled him away. 

"There should be rivals between the aristocrats and nobles slowing the advances down." Norrian muttered to himself. Used to getting out of these situations this bard expected a riot, squabble, quarrel or rivalries to spring up at any given moment. 

"Does your Bardic brain recall someone who calls himself Dark Pali? A Commodore of Cydnam and Lesdonia, knight who is or was 2010 years old whom enjoys the night. He or she were behind the animated golem hoard that took the lives of what was the number? Oh right the lives of six hundred eighty-six." Interrogation began from the lips of Lexhis.  

"Pay him a visit and see what he owed you cur." 

"They drove them away. A reason some stores shut down." 

"Clearly out of place that golem hoard was. Thought I found a nice Topaz on the ground." Norrian heard himself rebuke back. It was not out of cruelty towards those who died, but the spitefulness over being captured. 

"Let's see among the victims it took down a Primate, Surgeon, Mortician, a somehow soft Torturer, a renowned Warrior, the best Mercenary, local Drayman, and Tunneller managed to survive. All because of a treasure map was discovered, recently. Lawbringer that is known as Twenty-Five eyes mentioned a squad mage while in the hospital." Lexhis laid out who was there. 

Don't kill over this pirate it is only the IGC. Norrian wanted to say but he was gagged with a bandana. Captors rarely allowed their victims to be seen. Yet this was not abduction or any form of hostage taking. This was authorities of other kingdoms acting upon the orders of their rulers. Not knowing which city-state he was currently when he should, Norrian found himself drug to a complex structure. Blinking his own eyes multiple times Norrian found himself in a building made from multiple ship sterns stacked on top. Pulled up by the arms by the Uhlan and Hussar Norrian was brought over to the chamber that used to be the Captain's Cabin. Two figures faced them in a decorated room full of cushions, lounging couches, statues, colorful tapestries from Cydnam, Nevradit, Damis, Lesdonia, Mortas, and other city states of Estoras' Island Continent. In a green blue robe stood a red-haired woman with a scar on her left eye that was now blind. Next to her in a lounge chair covered in furs, and cushions sat a bleach blonde half elf holding a thin cigarette of high class. A red bow held a part of their hair up on the side. In a green dress she sat with a cat on her right and a little girl focused on reading behind her. As a guard or companion or tutor he guessed stood a red skinned horned female from Syrianos. Her dress matched her skin tone while the ruffled top revealed her shoulders. As for the rest they appeared more like chosen warriors awaiting the 1,400 wolf clan membership. Not even give him their names they shoved him into a crate sized box bound for Cydnam for trial. His own act inside a market city permitted the golem hoard to emerge out of people's pockets.