*Looking up in the sky, Farros chuckles and gives the dreaded Black Plague a hearty salute, proceeding to pull out a quill and parchment and begin writing. Inspired by the visage of one of the world's most terrifying monsters, he frantically works on some new material for his next show. A few days later, several casks of ale are cracked in the outskirts of town, rebellious youths and nefarious hellraisers congregating for an "Armageddon Party." Those assembled wear masks of monsters and famous villains, dancing debaucherously into the night as mad minstrels play dirges of doom.
The drum circles sound echo into the woods, as finally the host rises to the stage for his opening act. Bamboo wrapped tiki torches and bonfire blazing, he casts dancing lights and illusions to make the flames and smoke take form. Farros points to the crowd emphatically and hoists an adamantium orcish axe with steel strings stretched across like some macabre, barbaric instrument. Wiggling his fingers, the strings illuminate with magical energies which amplify their sound in a strange, wailing of the Al'Noth.*
"The Apocalypse now, looms on the horizon! *eyes swirling beneath his black mask, the mad skald's voice booms several octaves below natural with deep, gutteral magic energy* Drink, make merry now, while we all can! I dedicate this night, to the Black Plague... Oh creatures of the night, live for today! Live now while you can, love, drink and RISE!"
*a heavy gong is sounded like a cymbal crash, and the drum circle of drunkards blast out a steady barrage of short, quick blasting rhythms, building and building until they race. With that, Farros' axe tempo increases, chords and melodies hammered out heavily with haste*
Run! Hide! Beg! Flee!
Plague Bearer!
Go! Now! Die! Bleed!
Plague Bearer!
Blood on ice, it is so nice, death comes now, give into vice!
Soon we freeze as winter comes, losing daughters, losing sons!
Bodies thaw out in the street, stench of doom and ROT-TING MEAT!
Know! You! Now!
Plague Bearer!
Scream! For! HIM!
Plague Bearer!
Mortal eyes will burn inside, epic heroes? they will hide!
Madness creeping inner doom! Final days do surely loom!
In death we will all be free! Final days of MIS-ER-Y!
*the cymbal crashes hard and the tempo becomes chaotic and disjointed, as if a great deconstruction of order ocurred. Slowly and drums regain compsure and build with short, soft bursts. The enchanted axe-guitar flies into a furious 12-minutes solo as the drums build back up faster and faster. Ale steins are hoisted high and reveler's dancing into the night as the notes grow faster and faster. With that, Farros strikes a heavy chord which echoes into the night like a thunderclap, the trees around them shaking and showering leaves. Effigies of straw men are lit behind him on cue, lined in burning rows as if saluting him*
*voice booming like a render's roar*
"The time of skalds is here and now, where winter's last breath sings on the wind. Blistering sun eclipsed by clouds raining death, destruction and doom from on high! Drink! Drink! There's no more to it now! Live till judgement day comes! Rise! Vice! Embrace us now! Our flesh is still ours.. for now!"
First we feed the one of ice... dripping maggots, farming lice!
Rotting slowly in the grave, none a hero who can save....
US NOW!
In the end the final feast, consumed by the plague-born beast!
All good things, they must end! Black Plague lurks around the bend!
Soon we join the worms in our fate, drink now before its not too late!
Drink!
TO THE WYRMS!
Run! Hide! Beg! Flee!
Plague Bearer!
Go! Now! Die! Bleed!
Plague Bearer!
PLAGUE BEARER!!!
*the cymbal crashes again heavily and the kegs roll off the carts, opened furiously by once terrified people cheering with drunken madness. With that the mad bard cackles maniacally and leaps into the party, quenching his skald-torn throat with many a libation. The doomsday songs and revelry go on into the wee hours of the morning, as people wake up from their hangovers wondering where they parked their horses.*
