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Booty Booty Booty Booty Rockin Everywhere
Booty Booty Booty Booty Rockin Everywhere
Rocking Everywhere
Rocking Everywhere
I found you
Miss New Booty
The dance floor produced movements unlike any they’d seen from themselves. Their booties undoubtedly were rocking everywhere from the very beginning to the climatic end of my performance. None had heard this type of music before. But that often time produces the best of parties.
Roan was in the middle of the crowd, dancing harder than any other near him. Why wouldn’t he? His responsibilities were over once he brought the entertainment to do all the work.
“I need a song boy tonight,” He announced the morning of my performance, dragging me out of the Titan’s Trap just a moment after I had walked in from my adventure the day before. “And you’re the only bard I see?”
“You need me to sing a tune for this lovely lady?”
“No but… Well yes…” Roan stammered for an answer, “Look Daisy’s from Nayberton. A really close town a bit to the North. They got this festival going on. Her dad’s dead, it’s a whole thing.”
The girl kindly explained that her father, a muscician, had passed recently. Also she was much younger than I thought. Roan also seemed upset to learn her real age. Her father promised his guitar to the festival and she vowed to find a replacement.
Unsure what to do, she traveled to the closest town in search of anyone that can play and fulfill her father’s final promise. There she found Roan. Without actually knowing me very well, he claimed to be dear friends, but not best friends, with a performer currently residing in Grumbsy.
While I didn’t trust Roan, his adventure appeared to be the least dangerous of any thus far and potentially the most financially beneficial. Though it’d been years since I’d practiced any music consistently. My half-elf teacher gave me lessons for a variety of instruments in my youth. But for the last two years the majority of my small amount of studies have been focused on the pen, and the blade.
Yet, I was not going to turn down. Not for this challenge, nor any other.
There were a few families heading in that direction, but they made plenty of room for us in their wagons. I was given the opportunity to practice the instrument for the whole trip. Much to everybody’s enjoyment.
About a half a day’s ride we arrived at the small town of Nayberton. It was about half the size of Grumbsy, with a quarter of the marketplace. They had a tiny little stage that opened out into a nice field for people to gather. It looked to have been built today based on the freshness of the wood and the fact that people were literally still building it.
The caravan workers waved the travel fee for all three of us due to me entertaining everyone the whole way. While I might not be a great writer, nor a particularly good fighter, my skills as a performer were a bit more notable. The performing arts always came naturally to me.
Also these people had no idea what good music was.
The crowd was nearing a hundred. Most appeared to be locals living in the nearby homes. Though I spotted some who appeared to be from the indigenous tribes.
Humans, elves, dwarves, hafflin, even a few orcs.
Daisy quickly guided us to a tent where a hafflin, nearly three feet tall, and a dubblin, nearly twelve feet tall, were both shouting orders at a group of humans carrying barrels.
“If you don’t get this right…” The short one shouted, “I’ll bury all of you alive.”
“He’s exaggerating,” The tall one said just as loudly. “But we’ll do something bad.”
“Listen you furry footed fucks,” A human replied. “Don’t tell me what to do.”
Daisy tried to speak but was too nervous, Roan noticed and announced, “Excuse me gentleman. My lovely lady friend here tells me you are in need of a performer. Aye, we got the greatest Song Boy in all the land right here.” His arm squeezed around me, and I popped my thumb up with enthusiasm. For all I knew about Kayos, he was right.
While neither seemed excited to see me, the pair sure was in a rush to get me on the stage. They dragged me over immediately, just as they “finished” building it. I wasn’t even sure what the details of the festival were about, so I started out by introducing myself the way I had been all along.
Obviously nobody was impressed because why would they be. That’d be weird. But they were happy to have someone up there with a guitar.
***
I am new to war
I don’t know a ton
But one thing you don’t do
Is mess with Vergusson
***
When you’re with Syrielle
There’s almost no drama
She’ll end it really quick
With a stroke of her katana
***
It’s Easy to say
The Devilman is bad
But Zorthos is good
So that would make me mad
***
They came over the hills
And I was next to Nydorri
She knelt down and trees grew
It was quite the story
I really need to work on my freestyling skills. I’m pretty bad and it’s honestly very embarrassing. There were some kids that appeared a little entertained, but most of the older folks just looked bored or cringed.
Feeling the crowd’s waning interest, I switched it up and started covering older songs like the legendary Booty Song titled Ms. New Booty. On the stage my skills were really able to shine. While a small few may have appreciated the goofy rhymes I made up on the spot at the start of the show, all of them seemed to absolutely love the art that had been created by thousands of musicians throughout the world.
All they needed was a man with a little bit of talent to bring it out.
And I was living like a king. I may not be the leader on any battlefield, and I may have been removed from the academy for literary incompetence, but today I was a god. For I was worshiped all the same.
I went on for several hours. Far longer than they expected and a little longer than they wanted. I just couldn’t get off the stage, I couldn’t help but soak it all in.
Why would I create
If not for others to appreciate
I’m pretty sure I came up with that one.
Eventually the dubblin stepped in and ended my performance. Though with a huge smile on his face. The hafflin quickly tossed me a bag of coins. Shortly after that I met the mayor, a young man named Javier, who tipped me just a little bit more coin and promised I could drink for free in the tavern. The crowd had mostly gone home, but many were still having a drink.
Inside the tavern I was greeted with enormous cheers. A drink was in my hand before I got to the bar. Roan had his arm around me the moment I got there announcing we’re best friends while saying literally nothing nice about me.
“Twinkle Dick likes to fight but doesn’t know how that’s why I got his back.”
“He sings good because his dicks is small.”
“Look at how gay his outfit is, he doesn’t fuck ladies.”
The last one wasn’t inherently an insult, it was only that I had just said hello to a very lovely lady. She might have been the prettiest thing I’ve met on this continent. At least, for people who make eye contact. And she looked older than myself which was comforting.
The sailor’s comment didn’t really discourage her from talking to me. She still kept her pretty eyes locked on mine as I giggled, holding out my hand I asked, “And what is your name?”
“Jessy,” She shook softly and confidently. “That was an incredible show.” The beautiful maiden gestured towards a small crowd of women nearby. None of whom had caught my eye but all of them giggled when I looked. “It seems you’ve casted spells on all the women here.”
“Well I’m quite the wicked performer.”
She chuckled at my clever comment, her hand lightly parted the hair out of her face, and it was obvious from the way her head tilted what her intentions were for me this evening. “I doubt it’s particularly powerful magic. Considering how naturally charming the performer is.”
“I do imagine I will have a song to sing by the time I leave this town,” At no point did I even consider breaking eye contact with her. And I was delighted to see that she was clever enough to understand what my comment meant. Or was at least flirtatious enough to just go along with it.
We were quickly interrupted by folks asking me questions about my battles and my studies. They were convinced I was the greatest warrior they’d ever seen. I insisted I wasn’t that good, but never really clarified how bad. Outside of sparring I’ve never won a fight, and I had just lost my first actual sword duel yesterday. Other than that I’ve only had a couple of rounds of fisty cuffs out on the streets and that didn’t end well for me at all. They were big guys though, but still.
Despite these failures, I had won a woman a time or two in my day. And I felt this was going to be one of those times. Despite people constantly getting in my way, I managed to work my way through the crowd and back to Jessy who was delighted to see me.
All she said was simple, “Hey.”
And I just as simply replied, “Hey.”
Before any other words could even be said, an angry voice caught everyone’s attention.
“Jessy you fucking slut what are you doing?” A man roughly my size shoved his way through the crowd. “You get away from my woman you dickless fuck.”
From behind me, Roan shot back “If he doesn’t have a dick why are you worried?”
“Because he’s seen what I can do with my tongue.” Sometimes I try a little too hard to be clever. I stepped back with my hands up, as I noticed the crowd scattering. Several other men had stepped towards me, appearing quite hostile.
The yelling man grabbed Jessy’s arm and attempted to speak with her but she whipped her hand away screeching, “oh the gods Phil, get over it,” and then continued to be just the absolute worst cunt she could be. I mean this bitch could not have worked harder to make this situation worse if she was cursed to do so.
Three friends of his walked up and stood behind him. To emphasize my surrender I took another step back and bumped right into the seaman who didn’t sound like he was going to be very helpful.
“I got you,” He said, stepping to my left and patting me on the shoulder.
“Roan relax, there’s at least four of them and two of us.”
“What do you mean two?” The drunken sailor asked.
I pointed between us and counted with my other hand.
Confused, he asked, “What about Yarrick?”
“Who?”
He pointed to my other side, “My buddy Yarrick.”
I looked to my right and found a familiar short figure wearing a black hood. “Who?”
There was no time for answers as the angry husband shoved his wife behind him and took another step towards me. “You think cuz you got songs and you wear some pretty clothes and have some friends that you could just fuck what you want eh?”
“Listen I didn’t know,” I assured him, taking one tiny step forward. Feeling it was best to put Roan, the aggressor, behind me. I had no experience diffusing scenarios like this, but I’m smarter than most.
Debatably.
“I’ll smash your face in!” Phil growled but didn’t shout.
“Kick him in the dick!” Roan shouted behind me.
“Dick kick dick kick!” I think it was Yarrick shouting but I was a bit focused on the actual threat and not the men antagonizing him.
“I’m sure we can all go on our merry ways without a problem,” My efforts to pour water on the fire was not working at all. “I don’t need to say another word to your lady.”
One of his friends stepped around him towards Roan. The sailor pointed at the aggressor and shouted, “I’ll smash your face in quicker than my boy can get that whores pants off.”
It was I who was punched in the face first.
And once again, I was in a throng of violence. There may not be swords or magic spells. But this man hit hard, and knocked me on my ass. I was on my feet before he could follow up and the whole place erupted into a brawl immediately.
Yet I couldn’t see anything around me, I was too busy dodging punches, throwing punches and then of course taking punches. Thankfully, all against one opponent. At one point we clinched and I slammed some elbows into his forehead.
He threw me to the ground and kneed me hard on the stomach on the way down. After he threw another knee I tripped him. We rolled around for a little bit until I had to kick him off of me and scramble away from him.
“You got this!” I heard Roan shout. “Kick his ass you musical bitch.”
Most of the commotion had appeared to stop. The two of us were fighting for a couple minutes. Keeping the corner of my eye on my foe I looked around to see a bunch of people lying around all over the place, unconscious or moaning. Yarrick was sitting on top of a pile of three men with his arms and legs crossed. Roan had his foot on the chest of a very large man while another scooted away from him trembling in fear.
There was no time to absorb more details as the fists started flying again. This time we gave each other some space and tried to find our own shots. I fainted left, feinted right, took a punch square on the chin.
As bad as it hurt I managed to tag him with a shot of my own to keep him off of me as I regained my composure. “Kick his ass twinkle dick. If you lose, we lose. ”
With a bloody nose and a swollen lip, my enemy laughed at me, “Twinkle dick.” He just repeated the insult as if that made him clever. “You think you’re some kind of traveling warrior. What was that you said earlier on stage, ‘The writer who fights.’”
“Elrin Daun of Gladland. The Fighting Writer!” A wave of adrenaline rushed into me. Only for him to punch me in the mouth. I dropped to a knee, then rolled around to avoid the follow ups again.
I hopped up and circled away before receiving a kick to the gut. He didn’t look like he had the martial arts understanding to throw a proper kick, but that doesn’t really matter. It really hurt. I keeled over, took an uppercut to the face and fell forward. My balance was only lost for an instant and I managed to scramble away from him.
My enemy was clearly out of breath. It was obvious both by the fact that he didn’t continue to charge forward, and by his breathing. “Zeusdamnit,” Roan shouted. “Maybe you just fucking suck.”
“Wasn’t it…” The angry husband panted between words, “Obvious.” He pointed outside in the wrong direction of the stage, “Didn’t you hear him outside? He said it himself. Everything good was somebody else’s.”
He wasn’t wrong. Except most of it was improvised but that wasn’t important.
What is important, is that as hard as he was breathing, he was not done.
And neither… the fuck… was I.
I spit some blood out of my mouth. “You know,” I wiped my lips, “I’m not really sure I disagree.” I began standing on my feet, “I may not be that good at fighting, and I might be pretty bad at writing,” I slammed my left fist into my right hand. “But I’m about to scribe an ass whooping.”
My ally’s confidence in me surged back into him, “Write that dick kick motherfucker.”
A couple others in the crowd were actually cheering as well. Or at least that’s what I choose to remember. I stepped forward, and he did too. He threw a punch, I dodged and landed mine. Without even the slightest hesitation I hit him with two more. He wobbled backwards, and my moment had arrived.
I cocked a punch and threw a side kick. He may not know how to use the proper technique, but I on the other hand have formal training in the martial arts. My kick hurt him much worse than his hurt me earlier. When he keeled over I followed up with a quick left hook.
He punched me back, but I ate the shot and threw my own. Then we punched each other again and again. The brawl intensified, and before I knew it I was in a coin toss fight
Immediately realizing that was stupid I finally stepped back. His aggression was relentless, and this time he continued. But he was tired, sloppy, where I was precise.
My hand connected clean on his chin as he came charging in with no thought of defense. Before he hit the ground I followed up with another shot but completely missed. Then I didn’t.
And he was out.
When it was over, my own exhaustion had finally overwhelmed me. I collapsed to my knees next to him, leaning over the first victim I had ever conquered alone outside the context of a sparring session.
Roan had rushed over picking me up to my feet. “I fucking knew it. Scribe an ass whooping.” He spun around and shouted to the bartender, “We’re gonna need more drinks.”
“Get the hell out of my bar!”
“That’s what I figured.”