Iota
"A boy who dreamt of honor and glory."
"Great was his heart and greater his spirit."
"But, alas his body was worn and old..."
A deep sense of serenity and quiet fell over the tavern, save for the phlegm-induced spit take in the background. The silence was disrupted by the laugh and cheers of the tavern's inhabitants. Whether they were residents or passer-byers, drunk or sober, every soul in the tavern had stopped what they were doing to listen in on the young man's song. Iota opened his eyes, once the first 'clang' rang out in his ears, followed by many more. He eyed the small bucket that laid before him as slivers of copper and silver began pouring in from various directions. He couldn't help but revel in the luck he was having today. This really was the best tavern in town to score off of the local drunks. He would have to give that urchin boy an added tip for the information he had sold him. Then again, he was lucky enough to have gotten anything at all, after his unsuccessful pickpocketing attempt.
After everyone had more or less lost interest in Iota and returned to whatever they were doing prior, he took this opportunity to count his earnings. Setting down his lute, he rushed over to the bucket before some unsavory fellow decided to snatch it up. While not exactly brimming at the seams, the bucket gave a generous jingle as it was lifted up.
"22 silver coins sand 47 copper! At this rate, I might have a buy a round for the whole house." To this, a couple of nearby patrons lifted their brows to Iota. Crooked, toothy grins cascaded under their dirty beards. As Iota pondered whether he should try doubling his earnings, a sudden itch in his throat caused him to cough, implying that his throat was dry. 'My, my. It looks like I'll have to wet my whistle before I can perform again.' Content with himself, Iota made his way over to the barkeep. He moved with the radiance and grace of a prince, catching a disgruntled gaze or two as he passed by the other patrons.
"Good day, my good bar keep! One mug of your finest ale!" Iota chirped, taking a seat at the bar and placing his bucket-sized wallet onto it. A portly man in his mid-30's scowled at Iota, looking noticeably unimpressed as his gaze went from him to the bucket.
"Tha'll be forty two silver, lad. Not that a pup like you could stomach it." After this, the man let out a hearty chuckle before returning to his initial scowl. "Well? Ya got the money er not, boy?"
Iota was perplexed. While he did have the funds to cover it with todays fees, this purchase would leave Iota practically broke. With a drawn out sigh, Iota took five silver coins out of his bucket and gently placed them onto the bar. "Aye... I'll just have what everyone else is having, then."
After slapping a gargantuan hand onto the coins and sliding them into his apron pocket, the large man took no time at all to prepare Iota's drink. The barkeep then proceeded to slam the mug on bar desk dripping a fair portion of it onto the bar itself and his hand. "Try not to puke after the first sip, pup." The burly man quipped, before stumbling off to tend to his other patrons.
Not even bothering to recognize the bar keeps rude behavior, Iota began playing a few tunes in his head as he lost himself in his drink. He was struggling to decide whether he wanted to write about the one armed juggler he met in Heist or the miner who swore he could spotted a dragon in the Grotian mines and even spoke with it. Ultimately deciding that the juggler seemed the much more interesting of the two to write about, Iota woke up from his trance, only to find that he already went through most of his drink. "That's no good... I should go chat with some of the locals to make this last longer~" With a childish grin spread across his face, Iota began walking over towards one of the tables. As soon as he came within eight feet, he was immediately greeted with unwelcoming grimaces and malicious stares. It was obvious that the brutish characters who mostly inhabited the bar didn't quite care for his company.
Well if the confrontational approach wouldn't work, then Iota knew what would. Once again taking a seat at his bar stool by the fireplace, he grabbed his lute and began spinning another tune. This time, it was about widow who's husband was buried under an orchard tree that never bore fruit, year round. The next time she returned to his grave, the tree was bustling with ripe orbs of mouth-watering sweetness. While this didn't bring about as much commotion as his previous song, he received a few bouts of applause from the friendlier looking fellows along with a silver coin and several pieces of copper. While he didn't quite get the response he was looking for, Iota could now at least tell who would be more willing to chat with him.
Making his way over to a pair of young folk, who looked to be no older than twenty, Iota walked up to them with his trademark smile. Luckily, they seemed to be a little more accepting of his company. After only a few minutes he got to know both of the young men quite well. Joan and Parkiff were their names and both of them were soldier trainees, training to become guardsmen. Shortly after their conversation about what kind of women they were into, Iota's attention was grasped by a hooded figure who had made his way into the tavern. "He's quite the handsome one, now isn't he?" Iota commented, receiving a couple of bewildered looks from the trainees as he pointed to the newcomer.