Strike up the Band

I was talking with Moose Rickerson one day, and he and I are agreed, Dereth has a fever, and the only prescription is more 'dillo bell. Well, his words, not mine.

But he has a point. We need more music.

Which is why I decided to start a band. Now as most of my projects go, this was not as much of a disaster as you would probably guess. In fact, I might almost classify it as a success.

I posted signs in all the usual spots: in the shops in Cragstone, Ikeras, and Linvak Tukal, on Allegiance Hall bulletin boards, near the capital nexi, on one of Eli Spinekeeper's armoredillos, on the tree at the top of Mad Crone Mountain. You know, all the places that people go for news. I would have used a Town Crier or two as well, but they just go on and on about how much I owe them for advertising the Warath Safaris or something. I don't see why they can't accept vouchers for free safaris like everyone else. Talk about narrow-mindedness.

Anyway, at the appointed time, my group of hopefuls showed up. By group, I mean one scrawny looking Tumerok who called himself Glicko or something like that. He showed me the flier he'd found in Cragstone. It smelled strongly of fish. In fact, as he later explained, he'd actually found it wrapped around a fish, which he had bought from some vendor near the old warder's hut. I didn't really think things would work out for him, but I let him try out anyway.

"Gerko," I asked, "what instrument do you play?"
He looked around for a bit, then looked at me expectantly.
"You do play, don't you?" I queried.
"Um, I have this fish," he said, holding up the limp carcass. There was a bite out of the fish's side that looked suspiciously like a Tumerok bite mark. I was reminded briefly of a book I once read called Lord of the Ring of Sclavus Scales. Grecko seemed to be one of the characters come to life. Though slightly less slimey. And he was a Tumerok instead of an Eli Elf.

"That's not an instrument," I said bluntly.
He looked with some surprise at the fish. "Oh, are you sure?" he asked.
"Quite."

He looked around a minute and fixed his eyes on a rock of about the same size as his empty head.

"No," I said preemptively, "The rock is not an instrument either."

I looked around, hoping that someone else had shown up for the audition. A bit of brush rolled by, obviously inspired by some old cliché, but no sentient being showed up to save me from Gencho.

"Look, Gingko" I said slowly, "Why don't you come back when you have a lute or a set of panpipes and you can audition again."

A brief show of disappointment crossed Ginsu's face. His long ears drooped slightly. His eyes grew large, as if tears were welling up in them. And then, the rest of my message traversed the empty distance of the interior of his skull and bounced around enough for him to see some glimmer of hope in my dismissal. With that, he loped off like a lasher chasing a stick.

I honestly did not expect him to return.

Having had little success with the tryouts - only two hopefuls showed up, and since one was Gengo and the other was the bit of rolling shrubbery, I couldn't really count either of them - I decided on a new approach. I would have to go it solo. I sat down to draw up plans for my first mind-blowing show on what was to be a mind-blowing tour.

I had barely managed to detail how the magical explosions and fire breathing Alchemists were to wow the audience during my entrance onto the stage, when a shadow fell across my workspace. I looked up hoping to see a prospective band member. Of course, it was Galbro.

He was holding a rather handsome Cantalee Bass. "Umm, Giljo," I said, "Where did you get that?"
"From over that-a-way," he replied pointing.
"Did you buy it?" I asked.
"Umm, no," he said, looking slightly ashamed.
"Did the owner say that you could take it?"
Gerbo shrugged slightly, and then said, "Yes."

This was obviously a lie. I do not care for thieves in general, but Gabob was a completely different type of thief, and one that might actually make a very good addition to the band. I pondered the possibilities a moment.

"Did you notice when you took the bass that the bassist's arm came with it?" I asked.

He looked slightly alarmed at this question, as he had obviously not noticed, and quickly tried to hide the instrument, arm and all, behind his back. He then turned slightly, so as to keep me from seeing what he was doing, I suppose, and tried valiantly to inconspicuously pry the arm from the bass. At last resorting to using his teeth, he managed to disengage the arm from the bass and then tossed the limb over his shoulder nonchalantly. "Umm, what arm?" he said finally.

So, that is how the band Arm Deth began. We originally were to use the name Metallic Head Protection, but had to change our name to Broken Bone Repast when we discovered that MHP was name of a weaponsmithing guild near Cavendo. The band outvoted my choice for Corren and his Band, and instead changed our name to Broken Head and then to Broken Head Metal Death Squad Elites -- at the insistence of the lead singer -- but then shortened that to just plain Broken when we couldn't fit the whole name on the marquis at the Linvak Auditorium. The opening act turned out to be a group called If it Ain't which of course made our new name completely unacceptable.

As it was, we never actually played at the Auditorium, the rolling bush left the band to go solo and Greedo and the arm and I couldn't really carry on without him.

Also, it turns out that there is no Linvak Auditorium. So if you see the Drudge representative that used to hang around in Cragstone, tell him I want my deposit back.