"PLAY THAT FAST ONE AGAIN" shouted the noisy drunkard as he pointed his mug in the sky, pouring all its contents to the floor.
Merrik hated when people did this. This is why he never accepted bar gigs, but he was is need. The Wask Desert was a tough place to establish any kind of firm footing. He had no family and no friends within 100 miles of him. Plus, the people here didn't appreciate the finer aspects of real music. It seemed as if this entire dirt scab of a city was ran by mostly ignorant thugs and thieves. As ruthless as this assumption was, Merrik was pretty much correct. Asperlode had fallen from a noble trade city to a corrupt home for bandits and thieves. It has recently been considered the black scar of Valderia.
The young bard hated replaying pieces. He considered bad taste to take requests during his intended set. However, Merrik felt like any conflict between him and the drunken man would result in utter chaos. "Alright, sir! Here ya go!" His fingers began to glide through the fret board and his voice carried out the ever so famous Crescent Anthem. By the end of the second verse, Merrik exclaimed "Sing along if you know the words!" The entire bar joined in (horribly out of tune) and danced to the catchy chorus. The drunken group of people had evolved into a crazed dancing party that was fueled by the workings of this one lowly bard. Just as he was about to strum the last chord, a shrill scream echoed from outside. The party was over.
Everyone quickly dropped their food and drink to peek out of the windows in hopes of determining what had just happened. Merrik softly set his lute down next to his chair and pushed through the groups of people. The air in the room was still. Upon getting the chance to look outside of a window (adjacent to a booth of sweaty sell swords), Merrik's heart dropped to his feet.
Outside was a group of men in blue cloaks. They had arranged themselves in a small semi circle. In the middle: a woman weeping on her knees.
"Please, dont do this! I'll have the money tomorrow! I promise!" The woman was in a frenzy. "I've been busy! Just give me till tomorrow!"
The men that circled her remained silent. They all adorned bright blue cloaks that seems to reflect the brightness of the sun. There faces couldn't be seen. One man that was station in the middle of the half circle wore a bright gold and red necklace. This particular man answered the woman's pleas. "The priesthood never forgets."
The man nodded towards one of the men on the right hand side. The man at the right lifted up his hand and a green light flew straight from his palm to the woman's head.
At that second everyone in the bar and various other people from the streets began to swarm the blue cloaked men. Merrik witnessed what seemed like 50 men flock in a herd to protect the woman. As the group closed in on them, each one of the of the cloaked figures dissipated into blue mist.
The woman, frozen in time.