DUNGEONS & DRAGONS: Dawn of Revolution
The Performer
Two years before the coalition war began...
Chun Seying already knew from his finely-drawn map that the lovely trade town Zuulon was just down the road, but when he and his horse crested the hill in the heart of the Khanate plains, he was in for a surprise. What's this? Did Zuulon just double in size? What's up with that?
"Easy, old boy. Let's take this slow," Chun told his loyal horse, who snorted and slowed to a brisk trot as they made their way down the dirt road. Tall grass rippled in the wind around them, the "land sea" as some Khanate natives called it. As a wandering bard, Chun Seying was used to seeing all kinds of exotic things across the Khanate, and this promised to be a story worth telling someday. He could feel it.
Zuulon was a typical heartland town, Chun noted as he wandered down the main street on horseback, brushing off the people's disapproving glares at their tiefling guest. A general store, a few taverns, plenty of warehouses and stables, a few neighborhoods...
... and a refugee camp. That explained Zuulon's size!
"Halt there!" Two armed town guards approached, bladed pikes held at the ready. They wore fur-trimmed, studded leather armor with fur caps, each with a short red tassel on top. "Who are you? What's your business here?"
"I'm Chun Seying. Just passin' through," Chun told them. He made sure not to return the guards' harsh glares that clearly said get out of here, devil freak!
"And your business?" the other guard spat.
"Might trade a few things and spend the night at a tavern," Chun told them casually. "I'm heading northwest on the Dujing trade route toward the Illaran border."
"Occupation?" the first guard demanded.
Chun cracked a grin. "Why, I'm a traveling performer and storyteller. See?" He produced his lucky lute from his travel pack and waved it around.
The two guards shared a look. "Just stay outta trouble," the second one told him sternly. "Any funny business, and we'll run you outta town. You get me?"
"I sure do."
The guards watched Chun, clearly waiting for him to complain or act dejected, only to get a simple smile and nothing more. Seeming a little disappointed, the guards backed away and resumed their patrol route, with the townsfolk giving them a wide berth out of respect.
"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Chun asked his horse brightly, ruffling the horse's dark mane with his hand. "Let's find us a place to eat, then catch up on local news and gossip. Lots of traders have somethin' to say in towns like these."
His horse snorted in assent, so Chun put his lute away and got a light lunch at the local tavern, where he was gruffly directed to an empty table in the corner where he couldn't "bother" the other guests. He'd also have nowhere to escape if he caused trouble and the guards came knocking, either. That last part was implied, actually, because things like that were implied everywhere for Chun's kind.
After Chun paid for his meal, he made his way to the refugee camp on foot, his lute strapped to his back. "Welcome, good people. Might I play you a song to lift your weary spirits?"
He didn't expect much, and he didn't get it, either. Still, worth a try, right? Situated right on Zuulon's western edge, the refugee camp was a collection of shabby tents and a few campfires, with weary people milling slowly about or huddled around their fires, some of them with bandages on an arm or leg. Hardly anyone paid Chun any mind, either, though a pair of fire genasi boys cautiously inched closer, looking up at him until their disapproving mother gathered them and led them back to their tent.
"We told you to stay outta trouble, devil freak!" a familiar voice called out. Chun turned to face the same two guards from earlier, who approached him with their weapons at the ready.
Chun held up his hands, already formulating an escape route to get his horse and flee Zuulon. "I'm just saying hello. I could even play them a song. These people are clearly suffering."
The second guard grunted. "The mayor's doin' what he can to support these folks. But you've got no business with 'em! Maybe we should run you outta town, devil."
"Might I ask who these people are?" Chun inquired politely. He found that casual questions and stalling could cool all but the hottest tempers and delay rash decisions on other people's part.
The first guard glanced at the refugees. "They're what's left of the Ta-Ming nomad tribe. They got attacked by a hobgoblin pack and their devil pets. So the mayor took pity on 'em."
"These folks don't need any more devils harassing them," the other guard said scornfully. "You understand me, boy?"
"Well..." Chun's smile became a nervous grin as he glanced at the town's alleyways, preparing to take evasive maneuvers and run.
"That's enough," a new voice called out.
A young human man strode forth, a well-dressed fellow wearing a dark red tunic with an ornate yellow sash, dark blue pants, and leather shoes that curled up to points at the toes. "I've been watching this tiefling guest, and he has behaved himself thus far. The refugees have nothing to fear from him. Return to your posts."
The guards gave the young man an annoyed look, then reluctantly lowered their weapons and stormed off. "Devil sympathizer," one of them muttered as he went. Like Chun hadn't heard that one before.
"You were just in time," Chun said brightly once the young man joined him at the camp's edge. "I was running out of ways to talk myself out of trouble."
"It's my pleasure. But I suggest you watch your step, Mr...?"
Chun offered a hand. "Chun Seying."
The young man shook it. "Zenchuk Iyao, son of the mayor. I suggest you be careful, especially with everyone on edge after recent devil attacks in the area. I am sorry, but tieflings are unwelcome here by any standard. You must understand."
Chun hung his head. "I guess I do."
"But..." Zenchuk clapped a fist to his heart. "I do admire your spirit, Chun."
"Thanks." Chun smiled again. Then he gasped. "Did you say you're the mayor's son?"
"I am. Mayor Iyao is a most gracious leader, and I aspire to follow his example," Zenchuk told him. "I am also doing my part for the people of the Ta-Ming tribe, but it's not easy. Trade has slowed down in this area, limiting supplies, and we are not yet sure where the refugees may go next. Another nomad tribe may visit to adopt them, but there is no telling when that may be."
Chun gave the refugees another look. "I suppose I should keep my distance? It seems they're not in the mood for a wandering performer like me after all."
Zenchuk leaned in closer and spoke directly into Chun's ear. "Today, the guards are watching you. But perhaps tonight, under the cover of darkness..."
Chun knew exactly what to do.
All that afternoon, Chun sat in his rented tavern room, sitting on the edge of the bed, one leg folded over his lap for comfort. He nodded his head, strumming his lute as he toyed with new lyrics and notes in his mind, muttering to himself as he went. How could he lose hope so easily, just because the guards pushed him around? The Ayalakh Khanate needed bards like him to keep hope alive and stir the soul!
It was back to business, and after the sun was set and lanterns were lit across Zuulon's streets, Chun quietly exited the tavern and slipped through some back alleys, headed toward the waiting refugee camp.
"There you are," Zenchuk said, clapping his hands together once when his new tiefling friend joined him at the camp's edge. "The people of the Ta-Ming tribe are inclined toward song and dance, as many nomads are, and they favor upbeat melodies with rhythmic clapping and drums. I believe your lute should round out their sound nicely."
Chun got his lute ready and strummed it. "You got it. Do I have an audience?"
"Right this way. At least half the tribe is gathered around the central campfire." Zenchuk motioned, and Chun strode through the refugee camp with him toward the camp's center, where Chun's audience awaited.
"Who's this?" a rough-voiced, elderly air genasi man asked. He and his wife were seated by the fire with what looked like their extended family.
Zenchuk spread his arms wide. "On behalf of mayor Iyao, as an expression of Zuulon's hospitality and benevolence, I would like to introduce Mr. Chun Seying, a roaming performer here to lift your spirits. It is time for music."
"Thanks," Chun told the mayor's son brightly, then he cleared his throat and strummed his lute again. "Times are hard, and the open plains are unforgiving under the great sky. But here, together, we may forget our troubles and be united in our passion for song." He tapped his foot and started up his first song, all while the refugees stared blankly at him, the campfires crackling, the crickets chirping.
About twenty seconds into his new song, Chun started singing, his smooth, clear voice ringing out across the camp. Ah, these chords were perfect! Chun's voice latched onto his lute's notes perfectly, and he felt an excited thrill go down his spine as he went. Some of his finest work yet.
The refugees just kept staring, and a few got up and wandered off toward their tents. Someone coughed.
Chun tried not to wince as he kept the song going. Surely, at least someone here would be stirred by his sympathetic passion? But when his song ended, silence greeted him until Zenchuk made a timid clap. "All right! That was truly marvelous," he said. "Perhaps one more?"
Chun wiped his brow. Whew, what a warm evening. "Yes, one more. This is a popular song from the southern towns. It goes like this..."
He fired up the most upbeat tune he knew, and for a moment, the icy silence persisted. Then...
A middle-aged centaur fellow stepped forth and joined his tiefling guest, nodding his head and clapping along to Chun's tune, his weathered hands going smack, smack as he went. The bearded centaur caught Chun's eyes and made a gruff nod, the campfire reflected in his eyes.
Chun broke out into a wide smile and spun around in a flourish. "Whoo-ee!" he whooped. "Who's feeling it? Come on, make some noise!"
A half-elf girl joined him next, clapping alongside the centaur, and she even sang along with Chun when he repeated the folk song's chorus. Inspired, the centaur man did the same, his voice scratchy but clear.
One by one, as Chun and Zenchuk watched in awe, the Ta-Ming people formed a circle around their tiefling guest, clapping or singing along, and in a few cases, getting some drums and sitting cross-legged while tapping along to the music. This was it! Chun made another flourish and whipped his long-ish dark hair around like a true star. "Yeah! That's it!" he cried. "One more chorus, come on!"
Zenchuk folded his arms and watched with a wide grin as the entire Ta-Ming tribe, with Chun at the center of it, filled the air with their voices and music, and even the fire seemed to burn a little brighter now. They even doubled the song's length to keep it going and savor the melody, and when it ended, the people cheered and embraced.
"Let's do another one!" one of the fire genasi boys from earlier cried.
"Yes, I'd love that," his mother said with a smile. "Perhaps one of our own this time?"
Chun pointed dramatically at the fire genasi family. "Yes! What a terrific idea! Sing me your song, and I'll jump right in. Come on!" He strummed his lute again.
The Ta-Ming refugees looked at one another, then kicked off the next song, another lively tune that soon had Chun dancing in place, whipping his hair around with abandon, his lute improvising new support melodies for the wondrous new song flowing into his pointed ears. Now this was magical! He could easily carry familiar tunes around with him, but hearing new ones and exploring new pieces of the Khanate's musical heritage... there was nothin' else like it under that infinite sky.
"What's all this racket?" a voice shouted.
Chun winced and turned to face four town guards approaching, all scowling with disapproval. "Oh. Hey, fellas," he said with an awkward smile. Everyone fell silent around him, doubling the tension.
"It's late. The town should be quiet," another guard barked. "You lot are disrupting the peace! I suggest you not abuse mayor Iyao's hospitality."
"And you might attract devils," a third guard added, shooting Chun a dirty look. The nerve of him!
"Are we in trouble?" a young centaur girl asked, looking up at her mother for answers.
"There's no trouble here. None at all," Zenchuk declared, confronting the guards. "Tell my father that the refugees will agree to be quieter. But bear in mind that they needed this. And our newest guest did, too." He gave Chun a look over his shoulder.
The guards looked at one another, and the lead guard sighed. "Very well, young sir. I trust your word. But I want a peaceful town tonight!"
"Of course." Zenchuk bowed politely, and the guards wandered off.
Chun spread his arms wide. "That's twice you've saved me from the guards, Zenchuk. I owe you."
"I think you've done plenty of good for now, actually," Zenchuk said warmly, looking around at the refugee camp's cheerful residents. "Wouldn't you say so?"
Chun saw the warm, hopeful looks on everyone's faces, the faces of people who were still carrying a dark burden, but with some fire in their hearts to endure it. "They say that music and good humor are the finest salves."
"I suppose that makes you a regular doctor. For the soul," Zenchuk said, clapping a hand to Chun's back. "I'm sorry I can't do more for you. We don't get enough guests like you around here."
"Yeah. I'll probably have to leave first thing in the morning," Chun admitted, scratching the back of his head. "I don't think I can stick around. I go where the wind takes me."
"What? You're leaving?" the same centaur child from earlier cried, timidly approaching on her foal hooves. "But you have such good music, mister."
"And it was my pleasure to share it with your tribe," Chun said, reaching down and patting the centaur girl's head. "But that's how it is. Just remember my song and what it meant to you, okay? Carry it with you, and it'll be like I never left."
The centaur girl nodded bashfully, her tail swishing back and forth. "O... okay. Good night." She turned and rejoined her mother at their family tent.
Chun was about to leave when another Ta-Ming refugee, this time an elderly centaur man with a well-muscled chest and a blank right eye, trotted right over. "I see you met my granddaughter," he said in a deep, smooth voice.
"I did. Nice kid."
"Indeed, Chun Seying. And I am Horuzet Bortaak, chief of the Ta-Ming Tribe. I won't forget what you did for my people, Chun, even if we were cold to you at first."
Chun motioned with his hands. "Oh, I took no offense to that! Promise!"
"Regardless, I shall thank you with a proper nomad greeting, even if we will soon part ways." Horuzet balled his right hand into a fist and thumped it over his right pectoral muscles, then his left. "May the open skies bring you freedom. And in response, you wish for the horizon to bring me good fortune."
"You got it! Um..." Chun made a fist, then thumped his chest in the same pattern. "And may the horizon bring you good fortune."
"It is done. We are friends, no matter the distance separating us across the plains," Horuzet declared. He cracked a smile, with crow's feet forming around his dark eyes. "I wish you well on your travels."
"I... thank you. I hardly know what to say," Chun admitted with a nervous laugh. "I've met nomads before, like for my solo performances, but they never truly welcomed me like one of their own. I didn't even know the customary greeting."
"Our customs are not shared lightly," Horuzet explained. "Especially not with the folk of the cities."
"Yeah. I was born in the capital before I started my journey across the heartland."
"Hmph! You are a long way from Nagumtor. But..." Horuzet thumped his chest again. "With your music, you will always be close to us, and us to you. Take heart in that."
"I will!" Chun bowed. "And thank you all for enjoying the show. And for taking part in it."
"Hmph! Indeed. Now I must retire. My family needs me." Horuzet turned and trotted away, leaving a dumbfounded Chun Seying. He took another moment to gaze at the Ta-Ming tribe's refugee camp before Zenchuk escorted him back to the city and to the tavern.
The next morning, as promised, Chun gathered his things, ate a quick breakfast at the tavern, then saddled up on his horse at the Zuulon stables and was on his way. It was a partly cloudy day with another brisk, dry wind that swept across the endless plains, once again making Chun feel like a lone fish in a dry sea. He stole one last look at the Ta-Ming refugee camp over his shoulder as he went, faintly hearing the chattering of its people as he went. Before long, he crested a hill, and Zuulon and its refugee camp were gone.
"I think we made some really good friends, old boy," Chun told his horse brightly as they pushed on. "The open skies do bring me freedom, and the horizon just might bring me fortune." He savored the sound of those words and what they now meant for him. "Those people will keep my music alive even after I'm gone, and you know what?"
His horse snorted.
"Their music lives in me, too, and I'll play it for the next tribe I meet." Chun gave the open terrain a fond look as though seeing it for the first time. "Music brings people together, y'know, even if they're really far apart. It's how one group can support another, from one end of the Khanate to the other. Isn't that incredible?"
Snort.
"Ha! I knew you'd understand."