Once relieved from the pesky presence of the Elf, the Bum and the Barmaid, Angelo shook his head and returned to his hot beverage and writing. On the ale stained table in front of him there was a long sheet of parchment spread, nearly half of it was already filled with the young male's need driven writings. His soft and flawless lips parted and joined as he muttered to himself, while his quill yielding hand carried on scribbling feverishly.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: justify;"><em>"Raising her yet half asleep eyes to the darkness above her bed, the bound maiden met those wickedly gleaming peepers of her court jester. <strong>'Wakey wakey, Sleeping whore. It is I, Old mister wizard, who had come to do his festive chore!</strong>' The jester's giggles were far too horrible for listening, screeching and vicious, his face painted as a wide eyed demon – only barely visible through the darkness of her bedroom. <br/>The maiden tried screaming, only to discover the wooden gag in her mouth, her entire frail and nurtured body was in bonds, and she only became aware of her nudity once the next drop of the Jester's drool hit the fair skin of her stomach. 'What do you want with me, Fool?' she wanted to ask, but all she could master was a chain of muffled sounds. <br/>The jester then cackled devilishly, as he pulled out a six inches long metal claw, curved and wickedly sharp, <strong>'Have you been good or bad? Old wizards need to know. Only the color of your guts could tell, for-'</strong>"</em> </div><br/>Angelo ceased his writings and turned his head to look at the windows, as something was obviously bothering him, a nagging feel that couldn't be described with words. As an aspiring author, the young male found that sort of thing practically offensive. Leaving his half-finished story behind, the dark haired teenager rose from his seat and walked over to the windows at the west end of the tavern, which was the closest wall to his table, and so he unintentionally managed to save his own life. Peering through the stained glass of the window, he could barely see the dark streets outside, which he found to be odd- since it wasn't remotely nighttime- and then it happened once again, the same thing that made him wander away from his current 'masterpiece'. A lightning struck and illuminated the street with its brief explosion of light, but that particular lighting was anything but ordinary, so much so, that Angelo took a step backwards, his eyes widening at the impossible sight. None of the other guests of the Tavern noticed what was apparently extremely wrong. It might have been the colorful lanterns hanging across the ceiling and around the streets, painting the rooms and streets with bright shades of red and blue.<br/><br/>"Our deepest gratitude, Crimson Sister." The older barmaid bowed to the scarlet companion, "I will make sure you will be charged no coin for your food and drinks, milady." She then walked back to the bar, eyeing the wet merchant with an unfavoring and harshly disapproving stare. "I'd imagine milord would fancy himself with a couple more drinks to be had?" She asked dryly, and as another loud explosion of thunder shook the walls of the tavern, the tavern's maid turned to the stage and gave the singer a signal to switch to a more cheerful melody.<br/><br/>Upon the stage, surrounded by a band of string, flute and drums players, some of which she knew- others just gathered around her to share the admiration and random coin, the singer named Shira quickly met the strict barmaid's demand, as she instructed her band to key in the new melody, which was more vibrant and rhythmic, definitely a crowd's pleaser. The singer had an averagely tall and fit body, curvy around the right edges, wrapped in dark pink and light blue chiffon, her brightly blond hair was a bit longer than ear-long, inhomogeneous in lengths and curling out and upwards in a bouncy sort of way, her eyes exotically wide and diagonal, and her perky short lips made men lose their senses every time she rewarded the crowed with one of her impish smiles. Despite her pixy-like appearance, her instrumentally amplified voice was warm and colorful, and swayed the room into a renewed holiday cheer as soon as she opened her mouth and sang the first couple of lyrics:<br/><br/><div align="center"><em><strong>"Old Mr. Wizard will soon drop a blizzard,<br/>He'll blow, sweep and freeze all your troubles away!<br/>Everybody's waiting for the man with the bird,<br/>Winter is coming again.<br/><br/>Prepping his phoenix, he'll ride on those frost winds,<br/>He's got coins to drop at every stop of the way.<br/>Everybody's waiting for the man with the bird,<br/>Snow storms are here again!<br/><br/>He'll be here… With the answers to the prayers that you've made through the heat<br/>You'll get yours… If you've done everything you should-<br/>Extra special good!"</strong></em></div><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><strong>OOC</strong></span><br/>Melody and lyrics are based on The Man with the Bag (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KfRBUSBUv1E#).<br/>