Tempokai
Overworked One
- Joined
- Nov 16, 2021
- Messages
- 595
- Points
- 133
It's about a man that plays classical rock music in a fantasy land. Here's the rough draft that I did right now.
I have a debate whether make him reincarnated, dreaming or something else. Would you read this if it was a fully fledged webnovel with character driven plot?
Almatou, a city of adventurers. Located on the south of the Empire, with Alatau Mountains and highlands to its south, Almatou was renowned as a land where there were always monsters and treasures to be found in ancient ruins. It had been established after the Second Imperial Era began that year by an adventurer who called himself King Uloonbatoor. Since that, this city became a hub for adventurers from all over the continent; some even said it would become one day's capital of the world.
As a result, not only did it have many restaurants but also innumerable taverns that served food made using exotic ingredients and skillful recipes passed down among families living here for generations. At those places, drinks like tea or alcohol brewed out of strange plants were available alongside common wine. The city was full of people enjoying themselves at such establishments late into the night every single day, with countless cultures blending together so effortlessly. This atmosphere could very well be described as "alive."
In any case, this land had countless dungeons that pop up every now and then, because the ley lines running through this area were abundant. A place where adventures gathered wasn't lacking in underground labyrinths, either—as long as you considered them manmade rather than natural formations. Thus, prosperity was shared throughout Almatou. However, when compared to the capital cities of other regions, they didn't see many visitors, nor did their shops receive much trade. Their main income came from manufacturing, transport, and trade across borders... which meant most of these areas' residents lived without too much worry about money.
The night market was lively during the first half of summer, and there were still more tourists arriving from distant lands on business than usual. If anyone asked why the townspeople wore smiles brighter than normal while talking to them, the answer would probably be simple: We're busy.
The citizens of Almatou were honest folks who worked hard for their livelihood, whether they liked it or not. They were good at fighting in groups and were skilled enough with weapons, but couldn't afford to neglect work. After all, the empire was a land blessed with vast fields of every biome imaginable and rich soil; despite its harsh climate, many crops grew well here year after year. On top of that, one could even find great fortune by trading those goods with merchants coming from afar. Even if adventurers occasionally went out of control, like crushing few blocks of houses with their battles, the authorities could easily handle things thanks to the wealth the region possessed, and the people simply enjoyed life as best as possible.
***
The inn called The Magpie had an impressive structure in the middle of the city's bustling night market district, attracting attention no matter how crowded it got around closing time. It had two floors made of sandstone, topped with a third floor made of white plaster and decorated with elaborate carvings. In addition, there was a blacksmith shop on the left side, a carpentry workshop on the right, and a warehouse behind the building. Founded when the King Uloonbatoor was still alive, this place was often visited by famous explorers as well as any other adventurer interested in ancient ruins or the treasures found in them.
The entrance of this place was wide and airy, which helped it get rid of the stench of blood and smoke that could be felt at other places. It bustled with laughter, conversations, and music—the noises of business being conducted.
A man wearing a lustrous black cloak that hidden his face entered the building. Behind him, a strange looking black guitar case hung from one hand; he glanced at the signboard hanging over the door, then stepped forward.
Inside was luxurious enough for anyone to call home: expensive sofas, large beds covered in sheets made from silk fabric dyed bright red, polished wooden tables placed next to walls covered in wood panels carved into beautiful designs... multiplied to fifty, and added by two hundred more people. This extravagant decor matched perfectly with its location at the very heart of Almatou's night market.
The customers were all sort of rank-and-file adventurers who couldn't afford anything better. The inn wasn't built as cheaply as some of its peers, but it could easily accommodate everyone who had few silver coins and even less courage to spend those precious pieces.
Almost every table had a drunk adventurer passed out on top of it while snoring loudly, their breath smelling strongly like alcohol fumes. The main dining hall was filled with smoke coming out of burning incense sticks mixed with dried herbs, adding a fragrant scent to the area. The man didn't bother looking everywhere, and went to a his place: where the musician perform, a center of a stage used to showcase performers.
He sat on the long chair, and held the guitar case up in front of himself; there was no way to see what was inside because of the darkness surrounding it.
The performance started at once without any hesitation— magic lamps dampened their light, making everything look dark except for the places closest to them. There was only one source of light shining onto the platform itself—a faint white glow emanating from within a small glass ball sitting atop an ancient desk.
The man removed his hood, revealing his face which seemed like that of a young boy or a girl wearing a mask: skin color pale as snow, hairless, thin lips... not exactly beautiful features by anyone's standards. He wore a black coat made of cloth that was thinner than silk, and also black gloves and pants. Black coat glittered with stars, star-shaped stones set into its fabric, and a symbol decorated its chest: A star made of gold. His outfit gave off the air of a nobleman whose social status wasn't much higher than adventurers', yet he looked somewhat intimidating.
He closed his eyes, and opened his mouth.
"Stairway To Heaven."
As soon as he did so, a magical melody filled the room, as if all of the people in it were breathing at the same time. He gently strummed the strings, starting the song in a slow pace. The tune was the same as always, but it was somehow more ominous this night. It was just him playing, but the music felt like something that could have been sung by a chorus singing along.
Soon enough, it was accompanied by the sound of flute coming from his shadow, ringing through the ears of every person present. A beautiful balance between light and dark; silence and harmony; tranquility and gloom. This combination of elements created an atmosphere of tension among those who heard it. As long as they stayed still, those emotions would be fine...
"There's a lady who's sure
All that glitters is gold
And she's buying a stairway to heaven"
He continued with the lyrics about greediness, envy, vanity, and how these things weren't necessarily good. His voice was full of sorrow, though his tone was gentle.
"When she gets there she knows
If the stores are all closed
With a word she can get what she came for"
A soft chord played when he sang "closed," sending shivers down the spines of everyone listening to the performance. At some point during the second verse, he started to sing in a higher register—almost like a whisper—as if trying to tell someone something important behind a curtain of darkness.
"Ooh ooh ooh ooh ooh
And she's buying a stairway to heaven"
He lowered his head like a girl getting ready for her first confession, and kept playing as the words grew softer. Every breath was trembling on the edge of being too loud, as if giving off sounds that shouldn't exist.
"There's a sign on the wall
But she wants to be sure
'Cause you know, sometimes words have two meanings
In a tree by the brook
There's a songbird who sings
Sometimes all of our thoughts are misgiven"
The chorus sounded even sadder than before; the people in the audience had tears rolling down their faces. Their hearts were pounding harder than usual.
Then two guitars joined in; its melody almost drowned out everything else happening around them. It slowly began filling up the empty space between each note with color and life. The melody gradually turned into something more beautiful.
"Ooh, it makes me wonder
Ooh, it makes me wonder"
As if saying this is my answer to that woman, the man with star-shaped eyes began to play again.
"There's a feeling I get
When I look to the west
And my spirit is crying for leaving
In my thoughts I have seen
Rings of smoke through the trees
And the voices of those who stand looking"
This was followed by another instrumental section: just pure sound from one string plucked at regular intervals until finally, his voice started singing along with it. His voice was full of melancholy... as though he was telling himself something in an attempt to convince himself he wouldn't regret anything.
"Ooh, it makes me wonder
Ooh, it really makes me wonder
And it's whispered that soon
If we all call the tune
Then the piper will lead us to reason
And a new day will dawn
For those who stand long
And the forests will echo with laughter"
The man playing the guitar continued playing alone while reciting the lyrics to the song in front of him. At some point, a gentle smile appeared on his face; even when playing without accompaniment or making eye contact, no matter what kind of atmosphere surrounded him, there were never any signs of fear showing on his face. He looked like a kid lost in their imagination and pretending they're talking to someone else. This peaceful expression made him appear far older than his actual age. Even though everyone knew how strong he actually was and realized the power behind every move he made, none of them would dare act against this young man dressed in black clothing decorated with gold stars—not after watching him perform so many times before.
"Oh whoa-whoa-whoa, oh-oh"
Then the drums busted in, interrupting the performance once again.
"If there's a bustle in your hedgerow, don't be alarmed now
It's just a spring clean for the May Queen
Yes, there are two paths you can go by, but in the long run
And there's still time to change the road you're on
And it makes me wonder
Oh, whoa"
The music suddenly changed into a completely different tempo that sent chills down one's spine. The rhythm was lively and filled with energy. It was as though one was being sucked up inside something that was speeding forward. The sound of drums was like a heartbeat; it was the only thing that could be heard in the entire room.
"Your head is humming and it won't go
In case you don't know
The piper's calling you to join him"
There wasn't anyone here whose heart wasn't pounding harder than usual, especially not at these words: "join him." Every word he sang sounded like a threat, yet somehow managed to feel kind of romantic at the same time. As if he could show mercy at any moment, like he'd keep listening no matter what; then finally decide to strike right away without warning; like everything in his life depended solely on himself... That thought gave the listeners shivers.
"Dear lady, can you hear the wind blow?
And did you know
Your stairway lies on the whispering wind?"
Then, he stood up. He began to radiate energy, and his guitar sounded like distorted metal strings screeching in pain while his voice started playing over top of it. And yet, it was beautiful, almost bewitching—it was like some sort of strange song only heard once before in one's lifetime—like every single person present had never felt anything more powerful before this night. A sound they should never have been able to hear before. Like a giant boulder rolling down a hill with no sign of stopping anytime soon. They knew they were going to die the moment they first heard this instrument and those notes.
The man played a solo so amazing that even the performers from the nearby pubs couldn't help but stop their singing and pay attention. Everyone realized the man who sat next to them on the chair was different than anyone else around them, whether or not that was good thing. Even in times where you least expected it, you still wanted to stay calm and composed, trying your best to appear strong. But sometimes, there was nothing you could do about your feelings. The reason why everyone stayed still and listened without moving, despite being unable to contain themselves, was because they didn't want to lose the chance to be swept up by something as grand as this music coming out of nowhere...
"And as we wind on down the road
Our shadows taller than our soul
There walks a lady we all know
Who shines white light and wants to show
How everything still turns to gold
And if you listen very hard
The tune will come to you at last
When all are one and one is all, yeah
To be a rock and not to roll"
He screamed while looking into his audience's eyes. He had finally given in to his emotions. Now he wasn't playing for an audience anymore, but instead, he was screaming his anger directly at the people. This wasn't just playing—this was his revenge against reality itself. The screams reached every corner of the inn—everyone became completely silent—and everyone focused solely on the performer standing on the stage: the young boy dressed in black clothing with star-shaped symbols embroidered onto it, like some sort of magical armor protecting him from harm; like some sort of invincible hero sent from above. His black hair stood out even more due to how messy it looked after performing.
He played gracefully, until slowing down suddenly and falling silent. For a moment, silence filled the air once again, making everyone feel cold.
"And she's buying a stairway to heaven..."
The man whispered the last part, barely audible. Then, he bowed slightly, then straightened himself up. Silence continued filling the room for another few moments before breaking apart as though being torn open by a blade... leaving behind only cheers of joy and applause mixed with laughter. People were clapping hands over their mouths, tears flowing out of their eyes...
And the man smiled.
Magic lamps began lighting themselves throughout the whole tavern; returning back to life much faster than normal, their flames growing brighter and hotter at an alarming rate. Everyone else in the building started feeling warmth spreading through them too. A smile appeared on all faces; people who had been sitting on chairs or lying on the floor rushed forward to embrace this mysterious musician.
But before that could happen, he dissipated into the thin air. In fact, he disappeared completely right there on stage.
And thus, the legend was born.
As a result, not only did it have many restaurants but also innumerable taverns that served food made using exotic ingredients and skillful recipes passed down among families living here for generations. At those places, drinks like tea or alcohol brewed out of strange plants were available alongside common wine. The city was full of people enjoying themselves at such establishments late into the night every single day, with countless cultures blending together so effortlessly. This atmosphere could very well be described as "alive."
In any case, this land had countless dungeons that pop up every now and then, because the ley lines running through this area were abundant. A place where adventures gathered wasn't lacking in underground labyrinths, either—as long as you considered them manmade rather than natural formations. Thus, prosperity was shared throughout Almatou. However, when compared to the capital cities of other regions, they didn't see many visitors, nor did their shops receive much trade. Their main income came from manufacturing, transport, and trade across borders... which meant most of these areas' residents lived without too much worry about money.
The night market was lively during the first half of summer, and there were still more tourists arriving from distant lands on business than usual. If anyone asked why the townspeople wore smiles brighter than normal while talking to them, the answer would probably be simple: We're busy.
The citizens of Almatou were honest folks who worked hard for their livelihood, whether they liked it or not. They were good at fighting in groups and were skilled enough with weapons, but couldn't afford to neglect work. After all, the empire was a land blessed with vast fields of every biome imaginable and rich soil; despite its harsh climate, many crops grew well here year after year. On top of that, one could even find great fortune by trading those goods with merchants coming from afar. Even if adventurers occasionally went out of control, like crushing few blocks of houses with their battles, the authorities could easily handle things thanks to the wealth the region possessed, and the people simply enjoyed life as best as possible.
***
The inn called The Magpie had an impressive structure in the middle of the city's bustling night market district, attracting attention no matter how crowded it got around closing time. It had two floors made of sandstone, topped with a third floor made of white plaster and decorated with elaborate carvings. In addition, there was a blacksmith shop on the left side, a carpentry workshop on the right, and a warehouse behind the building. Founded when the King Uloonbatoor was still alive, this place was often visited by famous explorers as well as any other adventurer interested in ancient ruins or the treasures found in them.
The entrance of this place was wide and airy, which helped it get rid of the stench of blood and smoke that could be felt at other places. It bustled with laughter, conversations, and music—the noises of business being conducted.
A man wearing a lustrous black cloak that hidden his face entered the building. Behind him, a strange looking black guitar case hung from one hand; he glanced at the signboard hanging over the door, then stepped forward.
Inside was luxurious enough for anyone to call home: expensive sofas, large beds covered in sheets made from silk fabric dyed bright red, polished wooden tables placed next to walls covered in wood panels carved into beautiful designs... multiplied to fifty, and added by two hundred more people. This extravagant decor matched perfectly with its location at the very heart of Almatou's night market.
The customers were all sort of rank-and-file adventurers who couldn't afford anything better. The inn wasn't built as cheaply as some of its peers, but it could easily accommodate everyone who had few silver coins and even less courage to spend those precious pieces.
Almost every table had a drunk adventurer passed out on top of it while snoring loudly, their breath smelling strongly like alcohol fumes. The main dining hall was filled with smoke coming out of burning incense sticks mixed with dried herbs, adding a fragrant scent to the area. The man didn't bother looking everywhere, and went to a his place: where the musician perform, a center of a stage used to showcase performers.
He sat on the long chair, and held the guitar case up in front of himself; there was no way to see what was inside because of the darkness surrounding it.
The performance started at once without any hesitation— magic lamps dampened their light, making everything look dark except for the places closest to them. There was only one source of light shining onto the platform itself—a faint white glow emanating from within a small glass ball sitting atop an ancient desk.
The man removed his hood, revealing his face which seemed like that of a young boy or a girl wearing a mask: skin color pale as snow, hairless, thin lips... not exactly beautiful features by anyone's standards. He wore a black coat made of cloth that was thinner than silk, and also black gloves and pants. Black coat glittered with stars, star-shaped stones set into its fabric, and a symbol decorated its chest: A star made of gold. His outfit gave off the air of a nobleman whose social status wasn't much higher than adventurers', yet he looked somewhat intimidating.
He closed his eyes, and opened his mouth.
"Stairway To Heaven."
As soon as he did so, a magical melody filled the room, as if all of the people in it were breathing at the same time. He gently strummed the strings, starting the song in a slow pace. The tune was the same as always, but it was somehow more ominous this night. It was just him playing, but the music felt like something that could have been sung by a chorus singing along.
Soon enough, it was accompanied by the sound of flute coming from his shadow, ringing through the ears of every person present. A beautiful balance between light and dark; silence and harmony; tranquility and gloom. This combination of elements created an atmosphere of tension among those who heard it. As long as they stayed still, those emotions would be fine...
"There's a lady who's sure
All that glitters is gold
And she's buying a stairway to heaven"
He continued with the lyrics about greediness, envy, vanity, and how these things weren't necessarily good. His voice was full of sorrow, though his tone was gentle.
"When she gets there she knows
If the stores are all closed
With a word she can get what she came for"
A soft chord played when he sang "closed," sending shivers down the spines of everyone listening to the performance. At some point during the second verse, he started to sing in a higher register—almost like a whisper—as if trying to tell someone something important behind a curtain of darkness.
"Ooh ooh ooh ooh ooh
And she's buying a stairway to heaven"
He lowered his head like a girl getting ready for her first confession, and kept playing as the words grew softer. Every breath was trembling on the edge of being too loud, as if giving off sounds that shouldn't exist.
"There's a sign on the wall
But she wants to be sure
'Cause you know, sometimes words have two meanings
In a tree by the brook
There's a songbird who sings
Sometimes all of our thoughts are misgiven"
The chorus sounded even sadder than before; the people in the audience had tears rolling down their faces. Their hearts were pounding harder than usual.
Then two guitars joined in; its melody almost drowned out everything else happening around them. It slowly began filling up the empty space between each note with color and life. The melody gradually turned into something more beautiful.
"Ooh, it makes me wonder
Ooh, it makes me wonder"
As if saying this is my answer to that woman, the man with star-shaped eyes began to play again.
"There's a feeling I get
When I look to the west
And my spirit is crying for leaving
In my thoughts I have seen
Rings of smoke through the trees
And the voices of those who stand looking"
This was followed by another instrumental section: just pure sound from one string plucked at regular intervals until finally, his voice started singing along with it. His voice was full of melancholy... as though he was telling himself something in an attempt to convince himself he wouldn't regret anything.
"Ooh, it makes me wonder
Ooh, it really makes me wonder
And it's whispered that soon
If we all call the tune
Then the piper will lead us to reason
And a new day will dawn
For those who stand long
And the forests will echo with laughter"
The man playing the guitar continued playing alone while reciting the lyrics to the song in front of him. At some point, a gentle smile appeared on his face; even when playing without accompaniment or making eye contact, no matter what kind of atmosphere surrounded him, there were never any signs of fear showing on his face. He looked like a kid lost in their imagination and pretending they're talking to someone else. This peaceful expression made him appear far older than his actual age. Even though everyone knew how strong he actually was and realized the power behind every move he made, none of them would dare act against this young man dressed in black clothing decorated with gold stars—not after watching him perform so many times before.
"Oh whoa-whoa-whoa, oh-oh"
Then the drums busted in, interrupting the performance once again.
"If there's a bustle in your hedgerow, don't be alarmed now
It's just a spring clean for the May Queen
Yes, there are two paths you can go by, but in the long run
And there's still time to change the road you're on
And it makes me wonder
Oh, whoa"
The music suddenly changed into a completely different tempo that sent chills down one's spine. The rhythm was lively and filled with energy. It was as though one was being sucked up inside something that was speeding forward. The sound of drums was like a heartbeat; it was the only thing that could be heard in the entire room.
"Your head is humming and it won't go
In case you don't know
The piper's calling you to join him"
There wasn't anyone here whose heart wasn't pounding harder than usual, especially not at these words: "join him." Every word he sang sounded like a threat, yet somehow managed to feel kind of romantic at the same time. As if he could show mercy at any moment, like he'd keep listening no matter what; then finally decide to strike right away without warning; like everything in his life depended solely on himself... That thought gave the listeners shivers.
"Dear lady, can you hear the wind blow?
And did you know
Your stairway lies on the whispering wind?"
Then, he stood up. He began to radiate energy, and his guitar sounded like distorted metal strings screeching in pain while his voice started playing over top of it. And yet, it was beautiful, almost bewitching—it was like some sort of strange song only heard once before in one's lifetime—like every single person present had never felt anything more powerful before this night. A sound they should never have been able to hear before. Like a giant boulder rolling down a hill with no sign of stopping anytime soon. They knew they were going to die the moment they first heard this instrument and those notes.
The man played a solo so amazing that even the performers from the nearby pubs couldn't help but stop their singing and pay attention. Everyone realized the man who sat next to them on the chair was different than anyone else around them, whether or not that was good thing. Even in times where you least expected it, you still wanted to stay calm and composed, trying your best to appear strong. But sometimes, there was nothing you could do about your feelings. The reason why everyone stayed still and listened without moving, despite being unable to contain themselves, was because they didn't want to lose the chance to be swept up by something as grand as this music coming out of nowhere...
"And as we wind on down the road
Our shadows taller than our soul
There walks a lady we all know
Who shines white light and wants to show
How everything still turns to gold
And if you listen very hard
The tune will come to you at last
When all are one and one is all, yeah
To be a rock and not to roll"
He screamed while looking into his audience's eyes. He had finally given in to his emotions. Now he wasn't playing for an audience anymore, but instead, he was screaming his anger directly at the people. This wasn't just playing—this was his revenge against reality itself. The screams reached every corner of the inn—everyone became completely silent—and everyone focused solely on the performer standing on the stage: the young boy dressed in black clothing with star-shaped symbols embroidered onto it, like some sort of magical armor protecting him from harm; like some sort of invincible hero sent from above. His black hair stood out even more due to how messy it looked after performing.
He played gracefully, until slowing down suddenly and falling silent. For a moment, silence filled the air once again, making everyone feel cold.
"And she's buying a stairway to heaven..."
The man whispered the last part, barely audible. Then, he bowed slightly, then straightened himself up. Silence continued filling the room for another few moments before breaking apart as though being torn open by a blade... leaving behind only cheers of joy and applause mixed with laughter. People were clapping hands over their mouths, tears flowing out of their eyes...
And the man smiled.
Magic lamps began lighting themselves throughout the whole tavern; returning back to life much faster than normal, their flames growing brighter and hotter at an alarming rate. Everyone else in the building started feeling warmth spreading through them too. A smile appeared on all faces; people who had been sitting on chairs or lying on the floor rushed forward to embrace this mysterious musician.
But before that could happen, he dissipated into the thin air. In fact, he disappeared completely right there on stage.
And thus, the legend was born.
I have a debate whether make him reincarnated, dreaming or something else. Would you read this if it was a fully fledged webnovel with character driven plot?
