Julian "Jaskier" Alfred Pankratz (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
borntobebard) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
maskormenacelogs2020-01-08 07:03 pm
borntobebard) wrote in maskormenacelogs2020-01-08 07:03 pm
open | We venture through time blind
WHO: Jaskier
WHERE: All over
WHEN: Throughout early and mid Jan (pre-2020 plot)
WHAT: An open log of boy toy bard from a far away land who decides to adapt and overcome, or maybe just go cry in a corner
WARNINGS: Maybe some rudey words...
i. heropa; new bard on the block
[ It had barely been half a minute since the poor bard had been handed his information pack and communicator, given back his lute, and shoved out into the warm winter day of Heropa to fend for himself. There's a few odd stares spared for the fellow in a fetching red ensemble and knee high boots, but for the most part the locals leave him to it, a little too used to seeing the weird and wonderful characters that come through the Porter each month.
His eyes lift skyward for a moment, observing the unfamiliar streaks of contrails amongst the striking blue, before they slip shut and he stutters out a sigh. Composing himself before a big performance, that's all this is. Just another step towards a brand new adventure, out into the great, wide world and... almost straight into the path of a car that swiftly blares it's horn in passing.
With a soft squeak he scutters off down the sidewalk, staying on the path like every normal person should because those carriages sure are fast. Throughout the afternoon he can be found drifting, curious and clueless as he peers into stores, vigorously questions street vendors, homeless folk and just about anyone he can corner, and gives baffled stares at the shop fronts adorned with gadgetry and bright lights.
He is most definitely a fish out of water. ]
ii. everywhere; song requests!
[ Location doesn't matter all that much to a travelling bard, especially one who has plenty of new towns to explore. He may not be quite over the shell shock of it all, but he perseveres as best as one can. He's travelled to far away lands before, seen mages and monsters, dragons and devils, met Witchers and witches... this? This is no different, he just needs the tether that's always kept him going; music. Throughout the first weeks of the month he can be found dotted around the different towns, in cafes, bars, parks and anywhere with a perching spot, picking softly at his lute, notepad and pen in lap. He mumbles out words at seemingly random, hums and strums chords, and slowly drags out sentences as the creative process takes shape. ]
... endure and withstand amidst a far away land,
where perception overwhelmed, I stand powerless at the helm,
wrecked betwixt reverence and wonder...
[ A moment of quiet contemplation, and then without much regard decides aloud: ] Nah, that's shit.
[ Other times, when he's not savagely scribbling out his own work, he'll be found busking around towns in front of crowds of various sizes, revelling in the attention as he plays stripped down, exceptionally acoustic versions of various songs, feet stamping and crowd clapping providing his percussion. Another song finished, he loudly proclaims to anyone that catches his eye: ]
A request! What do you wish to hear? Anything at all!
[Literally anything. It would appear this bard knows every song the crowd has thrown at him so far, lyrically and musically. ]
iii. maurtia falls; working hard or hardly working
[ Mob Tours, they'd told him. That's where he'd have to show up for his first week of work, tasked with keeping well paying tourists and locals enraptured with tales of gruesome murders and bloody feuds. He wasn't exactly sure what a mob tour was exactly, but when given a script to learn he was happy to oblige, studying like any professional actor should, and acing every damn performance he showed up to.
The 'uniform' was a little unusual by his expectations, but most would easily recognise the mob reference in getting their tour guides to wear 1920's inspired pinstripe suits. Not quite his familiar peacock standard of wear, but with the added blood red pocket square and two tone shoes, he at least felt dapper enough to ooze the usual confidence.
He also now blended in far better with some of the more choice bars around town, slipping into the high end cocktail bars at the end of work to rub shoulders with some of the rich and powerful. Jaskier was at least tolerated in some of the circles for now, innocent as he was in cheerfully chatting to anyone who'd listen. ]
You know, I think I could get used to a world such as this.
[ Decided dreamily as he cradled a strong whiskey sour, sucking at the peel of his orange slice. ] I feel truly pampered. Like a Lord amongst his devoted serfs.
iv; wildcard!
[ Make up something new! Give me a poke if there's any starters you fancy. ]
WHERE: All over
WHEN: Throughout early and mid Jan (pre-2020 plot)
WHAT: An open log of boy toy bard from a far away land who decides to adapt and overcome, or maybe just go cry in a corner
WARNINGS: Maybe some rudey words...
i. heropa; new bard on the block
[ It had barely been half a minute since the poor bard had been handed his information pack and communicator, given back his lute, and shoved out into the warm winter day of Heropa to fend for himself. There's a few odd stares spared for the fellow in a fetching red ensemble and knee high boots, but for the most part the locals leave him to it, a little too used to seeing the weird and wonderful characters that come through the Porter each month.
His eyes lift skyward for a moment, observing the unfamiliar streaks of contrails amongst the striking blue, before they slip shut and he stutters out a sigh. Composing himself before a big performance, that's all this is. Just another step towards a brand new adventure, out into the great, wide world and... almost straight into the path of a car that swiftly blares it's horn in passing.
With a soft squeak he scutters off down the sidewalk, staying on the path like every normal person should because those carriages sure are fast. Throughout the afternoon he can be found drifting, curious and clueless as he peers into stores, vigorously questions street vendors, homeless folk and just about anyone he can corner, and gives baffled stares at the shop fronts adorned with gadgetry and bright lights.
He is most definitely a fish out of water. ]
ii. everywhere; song requests!
[ Location doesn't matter all that much to a travelling bard, especially one who has plenty of new towns to explore. He may not be quite over the shell shock of it all, but he perseveres as best as one can. He's travelled to far away lands before, seen mages and monsters, dragons and devils, met Witchers and witches... this? This is no different, he just needs the tether that's always kept him going; music. Throughout the first weeks of the month he can be found dotted around the different towns, in cafes, bars, parks and anywhere with a perching spot, picking softly at his lute, notepad and pen in lap. He mumbles out words at seemingly random, hums and strums chords, and slowly drags out sentences as the creative process takes shape. ]
... endure and withstand amidst a far away land,
where perception overwhelmed, I stand powerless at the helm,
wrecked betwixt reverence and wonder...
[ A moment of quiet contemplation, and then without much regard decides aloud: ] Nah, that's shit.
[ Other times, when he's not savagely scribbling out his own work, he'll be found busking around towns in front of crowds of various sizes, revelling in the attention as he plays stripped down, exceptionally acoustic versions of various songs, feet stamping and crowd clapping providing his percussion. Another song finished, he loudly proclaims to anyone that catches his eye: ]
A request! What do you wish to hear? Anything at all!
[Literally anything. It would appear this bard knows every song the crowd has thrown at him so far, lyrically and musically. ]
iii. maurtia falls; working hard or hardly working
[ Mob Tours, they'd told him. That's where he'd have to show up for his first week of work, tasked with keeping well paying tourists and locals enraptured with tales of gruesome murders and bloody feuds. He wasn't exactly sure what a mob tour was exactly, but when given a script to learn he was happy to oblige, studying like any professional actor should, and acing every damn performance he showed up to.
The 'uniform' was a little unusual by his expectations, but most would easily recognise the mob reference in getting their tour guides to wear 1920's inspired pinstripe suits. Not quite his familiar peacock standard of wear, but with the added blood red pocket square and two tone shoes, he at least felt dapper enough to ooze the usual confidence.
He also now blended in far better with some of the more choice bars around town, slipping into the high end cocktail bars at the end of work to rub shoulders with some of the rich and powerful. Jaskier was at least tolerated in some of the circles for now, innocent as he was in cheerfully chatting to anyone who'd listen. ]
You know, I think I could get used to a world such as this.
[ Decided dreamily as he cradled a strong whiskey sour, sucking at the peel of his orange slice. ] I feel truly pampered. Like a Lord amongst his devoted serfs.
iv; wildcard!
[ Make up something new! Give me a poke if there's any starters you fancy. ]
no subject
[ Look but not touch. Magnus is a handsy sort of man, not great at all with barriers, but even he can understand that some things are sacred. ]
Yeah, I live here. These houses have five at a time. What, did you think you'd get this whole place all to yourself? [ He gestures behind him, at the lived-in areas, at the well-decorated little nooks and crannies. ] This place doesn't exactly look unlived-in.
no subject
I don't know what I expected. [ He admits, peering around as he moves further into the house. ]
Looks like a woodsman was allowed to decorate in here.
[ Maybe a compliment? Or a snide dig. Possibly both?! ]
no subject
[ Whatever his roommates might feel about that - but he doesn't seem to care much about that, not unless any of them actually decide to complain about him. ]
Anything made outta wood here, I made. I'm a craftsman. Just, uh, a different sort than you, Jaskier, renowned bard.
[ That could be a barb if he didn't love bards so much. ]
no subject
Who were you expecting? Instead of me, I mean. A friend of yours?
no subject
[ He may not accept pay for his work anymore, but a man still has his pride. All of that bravado just sort of wheezes out of him as Jaskier brings the subject back 'round to the thing he's been trying really, really hard not to think about, lips thinning, expression thunderous. ]
Yeah, guess you'd call him a friend. He's a kid from home I'd been -- [ hasn't Angus been taking care of him more than the other way around? ] -- taking care of, past couple of years. He got ported out. Thought maybe he'd come back.
Instead they sent you to take his room. Haven't even cleaned out his shit yet. Which means you'll have to deal with it for a few nights before we get it taken care of.
no subject
They sent in a replacement so quick?
[ And he's that dumb replacement, exhausted and in desperate need of a nap, and yet aware enough of loss to understand the importance of time in these matters. ]
Perhaps I could find an inn to rest at instead? No need for you to take care of anything in your companion's room.
no subject
[ That doesn't stop Magnus from taking their money on a regular basis despite the fact that he has more than he rightly knows what to do with. He figures if you're getting something for free, you may as well take advantage of it. But he does shake his head with a sigh, opinion of Jaskier somewhat improved by what is, all things considered, an uncommonly decent offer. ]
Nah. That's fine. You only come here with the clothes on your back anyway, and if you're running around calling yourself a bard, your money's not good for much here. Angus'd be pissed at me turning you out on your ass anyway. We'll make it work. Won't be hard.
[ That, and he's got a funny feeling that Angus isn't coming back anytime soon. ]
no subject
[ Despite his offer, Jaskier doesn't take any more persuading when it comes to staying, instead wandering towards the comfortable looking couch in the next room sliding his lute next to it, and promptly dropping face first into the cushions with a muffled groan. It's a hell of a lot more comfortable than he'd expected, more plush than most the stuff he's used to back home, but he doesn't say much on the matter beyond an appreciative sigh. Don't mind him, just laying face first, sprawled on the couch. ]
What do you mean my money's not good for much here? [ He asks, mumbled into the upholstery. ]
no subject
Never call him a bad host, though, because he has the decency to yell from the kitchen, ]
Hey, you want grub? Ale? I'm having ale.
no subject
Ale! Yes! As much as you can spare.
[ With some effort he moves to sit properly on the couch, shoulders still sloped tiredly as his hand outstretches towards Magnus the moment he comes back into view. ]
Gods, this world is exhausting. A true barrage on the senses.
no subject
You'll get used to it. It'll suck for a while, though, I'll warn you about that much. Where I'm from, we didn't have any of this tech shit - we had horses and carriages, not cars, and everything they use tech for, we used magic for. And if you wanted to fight, you'd use a sword or an axe, not a gun.
[ Ah, the good old days! Separating mens' heads from their bodies with one fell swoop! ]
Just gotta take it one day at a time. You'll figure it out.
no subject
Yes, yes, exactly! Horses and swords! I don't even know what a gun is.
[ But he doesn't seem too concerned with finding out about that right now, his attention more focused on the plate of food, hungrily reaching out for a chunk of bread without bothering to ask first. He's a greedy boy who has needs. ]
You had sorceresses and mages in your world then, did you? I heard magic isn't exactly a thing in this world beyond our uh... powers.
no subject
[ That's not the most creative way of articulating his problems with guns, but that's okay. He doesn't have to be, not when Jaskier's too busy tearing into bread to ponder upon the general morality of different weapons built to kill in different ways. And considering Magnus has a tendency to do things that can be described as cleaved in twain to other human beings, his argument falls apart pretty easily anyway. ]
Yeah. Wizards and sorcerors and clerics and magical creatures and shit. The whole nine yards. And around here, it's only imPorts that count.
[ He lets out a disgruntled snort. ]
I'll take magic over the tech they've replaced it with. [ He raises a brow at Jaskier. ] So? What're your magic powers?