[darkstorme]

// This one's a bit anachronistic, but fun anyway.

Timulty Keel, Evoker and sage, was traveling the Serpent Isles, in the interest of cataloging the indigenous life, both plant and animal, of the area. The islands were teeming with life, most of it of a mind to make a meal of the meandering mage. On several occasions, he escaped with his life only by the virtue of a hastily cast invisibility spell and terror-inspired fleetness of foot.

It came as a great surprise, therefore, when as he was tramping through the jungle-covered island of Diego, to stumble across a native tribe in an area of relative safety. He might have overlooked them, save for the sound of their drums, which drew him to the village. They were, against all odds, friendly, and greeted him with open arms, offers of food, drink, and entertainment of all sorts. Grateful for a respite from his perilous journeys, Timulty gladly accepted, taking the time to jot down notes on native customs as well.

The pleasant native drumming that had drawn him to this village, however, quickly became annoying as it appeared it never ceased. When Timulty was eating dinner - roast boar, in an absolutely delicious sauce - by the great bonfire, drumming. When he bathed in an offered hot spring - drumming. When he tried to get to sleep that night, drumming. He couldn't even manage the concentration to prepare his spells, so prevalent was the sound.

This went on for three days.

After the third restless night, haggard from lack of sleep, Timulty approached the chief of the village, a genial man who had a rough understanding of Common. He thanked the chief for the hundredth time for the tribe's generosity, not wanting to seem ungrateful, and then asked the question that now throbbed with every beat of the cursed drums - "Chief, do the drummers ever stop?"

The chief made a sign to ward off evil, and seemed taken aback. "Oh, no, spell-holder. Drums never stop. If drums stop, terrible!"

Timulty was shocked. Perhaps these drums were enchanted to ward off some great evil! Or maybe it was more mundane than that - perhaps the drumming drove off predators that would normally make a meal of the village? Taking out his journal and a quill, he turned to a fresh page and again addressed the chief. "What terrible thing happens?"

The chief hesitated, clearly hesitant even to mention the terror that the drums' cessation would herald. "When drums stop...."

"Yes?", prompted Keel.

"When.. drums stop...." - the chief took a long, shuddering breath - "bass solo begins!"