Somewhere Someplace

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The second day of the new year dragged on, becoming more monotonous and cumbersome. If the denizens had not outnumbered the tavern staff the day before, they absolutely did now. Never before had the foreigner ever seen so many patrons stuffed within this primitive wooden facility.

Their laughing and cackling, noises of anger and joy and sorrow, all of it was truly…frustrating…deep down within. Those sounds which pierced her ears made her feel dizzy; they made her head feel numb, blanking her mind as if her soul and very essence felt unreal.

Yet, the noises did not stop as time continued to drag forth; such only became worse and worse. More patrons, more people, more intoxicated breaths spewing their stench all over and around, giving her quite the mindache.

However, the ruckus within was nothing compared to…whatever happenings were unraveling beyond this tavern’s walls. As the sun moved away from noon, cheers and shouts and cries, the marching parade of…things beyond, so many such sounds played at once, causing the very walls to shake and vibrate…or at least it felt like such.

In fact, as the world became darker, even Far Western warships joined the celebration of the second day, firing blanks from their cannons and batteries. This tavern was not even remotely close to the coast, but the booms still shook everyone’s spines. Truly, her mind was not allowed any respite at all… It was so very…annoying, indeed, even if she struggled to comprehend it deep within.

Her peers were rather annoyed themselves; though, not because of the noise and ruckus… No…they lamented about not being able to join in. Special days like these were seemingly one of the few occasions where a lady could be more loose and free from the usual social normative expectations.

Indeed, the lady patrons here were…especially feisty and problematic in their…conduct, becoming quite the source of incidents as time dragged forth; some even engaged in…open acts with other men and ladies…in their own intoxicated antics, with some instances of venomous fights breaking out.

Her peers so truly did want to join in such celebratory fun and be their own form of festive menace; but, alas, here they were: working away without any end to be found.

“Hey mask lady! Haha! How’s that sweet ass of yours doing?” so hailed a patron…a specific patron, a familiar one…in all the not-so-pleasant of ways.

« Ģe magnë… » she muttered out; great…this one.

Ostensibly, upon first inspection, this patron was nothing more than a youngish, yet aged and rugged, man; taller than her yet also…somewhat shorter than the average man of these lands. His hair was rather long, yet was tied together in a way, appearing more like a knotted tail extending from the back of his head. Likewise, his hair was a sort of dark-blueish color—naturally so.

Indeed, such was…one of the properties of this place; the sheer phenotypical diversity in hair and eye coloring was rather…noticeable and profound. Yet none of this really surprised her too much, for such tended to be the apparent nature of places like here: always full of the ‘unnatural’ and the ‘bizarre’. Though, likewise, more ‘natural’ and expected phenotypical characteristics still remained rather abundant.

This patron hailed away and away. She begrudgingly responded and approached; “Hello to you fine sir! Greatly seen…ahem—great to you see you again!” she greeted with a donned charming smile.

Beer foam was slobbered all over this patron’s face, which had pointy specks of facial hair, seemingly. He looked straight at her and burped in her face… The stench, goodness… truly, she hated the smell of these ‘beverages’ of cognitive impairment—so strange, it was, how any society could so fervently consume something that only detracted and hindered the efficiency and functionality of their apparatus.

“It’s so great to see my favorite lady in all this dump of a fuckplace haha! Gods’ sacred toilet…you are hot! Haha!” he said intoxicatedly, burping again; “…if only I could pay you for additional services tehaha!”

This patron seemed to be the sort who…enjoyed ‘annoying’ her, either intentionally or impulsively, though she was able to tolerate it. Indeed, she was hardly annoyed or angered as much as…simply done-with-existence—there was apparently a difference. In the end, these were denizens who did denizen-things; no need to be overly judgmental, for it was neither her place nor her right to bestow such judgments…in theory, at least.

Regardless, generally, her peers tended to react very…annoyed when being…commented on; thus, best she pretend as though she were annoyed from such remarks.

“Oh, how you flatter me so…” she responded cordially but with a pinch of annoyance; “so, you, what may I bring to you?” she inquired.

“You know…beer, beer, beer, and more fucking beer! It’s a new year…and we all made it this far in this fucked world! It’s time to celebrate…haha!” he responded; “you sure…me and you…we can just…celebrate…you know…privately…” his mouth further wordfully vomited out.

“I have to say the no…I give the sorry” she responded cordially and pleasantly, but bluntly.

“Trinity’s Son your voice!” he suddenly remarked loudly; “…you know what, actually…there was one more thing, yes yes…speak…that’s what I want” he…requested?

She tilted her head, confused; “speak?” she repeated his words.

“Yeah…your fancy Far West tongue, speak for me, will you? I want to hear it” he clarified, his tone of voice shifting somewhat, no longer as…seemingly intoxicated; more straightforward and…organized. That was another thing about this denizen patron that…made her feel guarded and off: he tended to shift and morph in his decorum, slightly but noticeably, his voice most especially. Something about him reminded her…of herself, in this way.

“I’ll give a tip of…five silvers… yes” he said more drunkenly, before taking out a coin pouch and, out from it, stumblingly withdrew five coins: three silvers, one gold, and one…coin-looking trinket that was clearly not a coin…even if shiny. Color recognition was not this intoxicated man’s forte, seemingly—never mind object recognition.

Her eyes fixated on the gold coin in a slight stun; she was frozen aback…perhaps somewhat more genuinely. Silver was the ‘base’ commodity of exchange in these lands into which everything seemed to be broken down; 1 gold equaled 100 silvers, and 100 golds equaled 1 platinum; 10,000 silvers, thus, made a single platinum.

Though, apparently, there used to be lower bases to which silver had been ‘pegged’—copper and bronze—, but such had become ‘valueless’ decades ago due to…abstractions beyond her comprehension. In fact, all of these abstractions of ‘monetary whatevers’ and ‘economy buzzes’ were utterly beyond her; all that she knew was that gold coins were ‹ bonoe nummoe › and consequently wanted it.

She inhaled and exhaled, taking a deep breath, before smiling; « Jo spero quod tu méhi a’dandù éștom dișkulom aureom planificants síeș… șin alidre aș modo pyrocannam merdosam tuam ģe énçharģeas » she said with rather the pleasant charm.

The patron cackled at this; “Haha! Gods’ sacred you are so sexy and scary when you speak that tongue of yours!” he remarked, satisfied; “here here…take this… If only I could pay you for more haha!” he said loudly, handing her the coins and shiny trinket…thing.

She immediately placed the trinket into one of her few pockets and the coins into her pouch. Certainly, sometimes these so-called ‘tips’ were easy pay and money. Mistakes like these were evidently a rather strong source of income for her and the other waitresses, single-handedly ensuring that they paid their rents on time.

“…anything else?” she inquired, rather pleased and satisfied…some of it perhaps vaguely genuine.

“…you know what, yeah! D-do it again haha, say something else… You must know more things right?” he stated and inquired.

She sighed… Ugh…why did she bother to ask? Though, any protest she might have had was immediately suppressed when he took out yet another gold coin… Seriously? The same mistake? Again?

« …mirabile… Oi eș tu la glupissima d’ex omnés de las primitivas én la tota universa çeù’t sâ façhes hancora eo mețimos error, denizen » she remarked in ‘awe’, changing her dialect of speech to one somewhat more informal.

Truly, if he kept the gold coming, she was more than willing to speak in every language she knew.

He cackled again, flicking the gold coin to her which she nabbed instantly. “Trinity in Heaven, you Far Western ladies are the best… the absolute…best” he said…promptly burping afterwards. He then took out…an ordinary silver coin… Oh pewy.

“…one…one more…one more…time” he blumbled out.

She sighed; « Where’s the gold, smoothbrain? I want a golden disc-whatever thing, not this stupid silver one, or at least you could finally mistake silver for platinum, » she said, her accent and language having fundamentally changed, her voice almost alien from her prior yet…still, nevertheless, distinctly and uniquely hers.

The patron was taken aback, seemingly. “Fertility’s sacred fuck-palace! Was that even the same person?! What language even was that?!” he remarked in apparent drunken awe, falling back against his chair.

« Quaeda léngua quae’st tébi nîl de relevanțiad; jamja modo dá mî éștonc bibelôtem » she answered and promptly demanded. The patron, coincidently, flicked the coin to her as soon as she had said so, despite perhaps not understanding.

“Ah…that was good enough… I got my fix…I’m off” the patron, satisfied, said, standing up…and…slapping her in her bottom area unsolicitedly, before abruptly departing away…his walk rather sober for such a drunken man.

“Yeesh…what a womanizing pest…I feel bad for her…” so remarked in whisper a peer behind, glaring in her direction before reattending to her many chores and duties.

The foreigner, unaffected seemingly, began to make way, before pausing, observing that patron as he exited the tavern; she stared down at her belt-affixed coin pouch.

Hmm… she supposed that she was perhaps beginning to vaguely understand the dopamine rush denizens experienced from these…abstractions of ‘currency’ and ‘value’, or at least in receiving a shiny trinket of abstracted value, even if still so very…silly and absurd.

This moment of pause lasted shortly, for immediately: “Hey mask! Stop standing there! I need your help!” a peer requested afar.

Ugh. Yet, as she made way to rendezvous with that peer who hailed for her aid, it quickly became apparent that…a new commotion was beginning at the center of the tavern. She yet again paused, evaluating and staring.

A crowd of denizens of all sizes and types were gathering around a wooden table…or rather a couple or so tables which had been moved and smudged against each other. A…rather cognitively impaired denizen woddlingly stumbled onto this collection of tables, standing…barely…on it, making rather the many denizen noises.

“Here here!” so began to exclamate he; “I say on this…this…day! This second day of this new year given to us by the Gods…that…that—burps—the Empire will get what’s coming to them! Pegasus will join…join…those pegasi that it so worships: EXTINCTION! I tell you!” he blurbled exclamatively. “Long live the Kingdom of Rainbow! Long live the Coaliti—” he was attempting to declare, but another…equally cognitively impaired denizen gently-ish pushed him off from the table, as he too stumblingly climbed onto it, waddling as he stood upon it declaratively.

“NO! FUCK THAT!” so declared he; “I say—burps—this second day of this new year…granted to us by Trinity in Heaven above, that-that…the Empire will finish what it started: total unification! Let me tell you right now and here I say! We are one land! One people! One nation! One Empi—” he was blumburbling out loud until he…simply tumbled down.

As he tumbled down, however, another denizen took the opportunity to bumblingly stumble onto the tables, waddling as he stood with assertive pride; a somewhat fancy man with a top-hat of sorts donned upon him. “NO!” so declared he; “DEMON-KING FUCK BOTH ‘EM! LET ‘IM FUCK THE EMPIRE AND FUCK THE COALITION, LET ‘IM SODOMIZE ‘EM ALL!” he exclaimed with drunken passion.

“I say…this new year…upon this second day granted to us by…not the Gods but we ourselves…that that…we fuck ‘em all! We the common men of these lands…we toil their fields, we put food on their plates, we built these lands and cities up with our own hands! Why…why should those…those…fat-lards in the feudality and royalty get to rule? All they do…is…is…fuck their mothers and sisters and inbreed into power! Why…why don’t we be the ones in charge, huh?!” he declared.

His words seemed to rile a stir, the crowd of denizens cheered and booed equally, though…a large swath of them perhaps did not really know to what they were even cheering or booing; their minds were so impaired that they were practically in an entirely different plane of reality.

“W-what the…the…the Far West call it again?” he blungled out loud in inquiry.

“Oh, Gods’ sacred toilet not this again…” thus the tavernkeeper began to remark in irritation, “the last thing I need is the Count’s men showing up…”

He was stuck behind the counter area…too bogged down with rather the many patrons and their relentlessly endless demands, unable to respond to this properly.

His eyes glared imperatively at the foreigner, as all the other ladies simply stood and watched; too timid to stand between a drunk educated agitator of a man and his words of…wisdom. The foreigner sighed, before she began to make way through the crowd; it was time for her to do her…de-facto ‘enforcer’ role, it seemed.

“A ‘REPUBLIC’ THAT’S WHAT IT’S CALLED YEAH!” so finally exclamated he; “a folkwealth ruled by the common man, just like you and me, not some fucker inbred into power! We don’t need no emperor of extinct flying horsies and some count of the coast or whatever of fuckings! And-and RAINBOW! WHO EVEN NAMED THOSE ASSHOLES ‘RAINBOW’?! HUH HUH?! I say, fuck ‘em all, let the Demon-King come back and let ‘im fuck ‘em all!” so declared he in further drunken passion.

She squeezed her way through; now standing before the table, the drunken agitator towered over her, his drunken face smirking somewhat. He was either a committed ‘revolutionary’ or…simply someone who…appreciated a crowd’s attention and would say anything for it.

“Fine sir, may you stop, for grace?” she respectfully requested with a smile.

“HUH?!” so mumckled the drunken agitator, his eyes glaring down at her; “LOOK! Before my very eyes… Look! A Far Western masked whore coming to silence me no doubt! What? Huh? Huh? Y-you annoyed by my words, now, little lady? Hmmm? Do you enjoy sucking the tails of the royals, hmmm?” he…made…noises accusatively.

She was in no mood for this…not at all. “Second warning. I ask that you become the down.” she demanded again, now more strict as her smile faded.

“ ‘BECOME THE DOWN’…learn to speak, you alien!” so heckled a drunken patron in the crowd… The crowd was becoming…riled up even more, seemingly.

“Yeah, let him speak! You let the Imp-lover over there speak, why not him?!” so heckled a somewhat drunken patron.

“Yeah, let him speak! You Far Westerners spread your shit all over our lands, this is all your fault anyway!”

Thus the crowd heckled and pecked with words at her.

The agitator, seeing the crowd’s reaction, only became more emboldened. “You know…” so continued to noise-make he, “…I heard that…in… What-what was it called…? ‘Royume’, yeah that place… I heard they…they wear them fancy masks for orgies… I-is that why you wear that mask, hmmm? Cause you love getting double-seeded by the royals so much? Or are you more of a trade company slut? How much they paying you to keep the common man down and from speaking, HMM?” he made more of his…noises.

“Third warning. Get down now or you will be forced.” she demanded, her voice becoming more cold and threatening.

“BUAHAHAH! Ohh… I-I’m so scared! What’s a short petite lady like you gonna do, huh? Fine…fine…force me, then! Behaha! W-what? D-did I hurt your little Far West lady feelings, hmm?” he made more of his noises in response.

Many of the ladies around, even those who once cheered him on, were becoming more…disgusted by him, visibly so, her peers most especially.

“Oh, that’s it!” so the tavernkeeper began to shout, “Readings, get the fuck down from there and get out! You’re souring the night!”

“Come and get me coward! Instead of sending your personal imported seed-drinker at me!” the agitator besplammed out in response, waddling even more.

She sighed; « Monitús ultimos jam expiratùr, denizen » she stated so very coldly.

Immediately, without delay, she grabbed the laughing agitator’s leg, twisting it as she combatively yanked him off. Though, in the process, she caused the agitator’s head to…smash right into the table’s edge, his top-hat falling off as his head bashed and cracked. The agitator went completely mute, laying motionless, bleeding.

Seeing this, she backed away. « Merda… » she muttered; shit.

Everyone around turned silent, staring with sudden shock and surprise.

“…w-w-WHAT WAS THAT FOR?! YOU CRAZY WHORE!” so exclaimed a patron, startled.

“S-s-someone go get a doctor—n-no we need A LIFE MAGE NOW!” another exclaimed as they began to run out.

“GET THE GUARDS TOO GODS’ SACRED TOILET!” another shouted, running along.

Quickly, the crowd dispersed in a shocked tumult, her peers immediately arriving to tend to the bleeding man…as best they could.

Her boss promptly arrived and yanked her away from the scene, harshly; “WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST DO?!” he lambasted in a clamoring shout, his face red.

“…you wanted me to get him down, no? Well…I acted suchly” she responded coldly.

“Yeah, mask! I wanted you to get HIM DOWN and SHUT HIM UP! NOT YANK HIM DOWN AND CRACK HIS SKULL OPEN! Do you have any idea what Gods’ ordained maelstrom of shit will shit all over me if he dies on my property?! I WILL BE RUINED!” her boss reprimanded and lambasted. He groaned audibly; “you’ve always been a bit of a wacky one in the head…it was my fault for even expecting you to do this properly… Gods’ sacred toilet…this is even worse than that time you broke a man’s arm like a stick, you know that?!”

“You did not tell to me not to use the…force, so I did what was necessary to—” she began to respond, but…

“Gods’ sacred, why do I have to tell you every detail in order for you to understand what should be common sense?!” he interjected, before turning his attention to the scene; “EVERYONE CLEAR OUT! WE ARE CLOSING EARLY! CLEAR OUT, NOW!” he shoutingly declared.

The patrons quickly cleared out in a hurry, the celebrating world beyond none the wiser. The agitator’s breaths were becoming raspy and groany. A few of her shocked and startled peers began to tear up somewhat, having been startled by the suddenty, unable to do much to prevent a possible death, even if they had nothing pleasant to say about such a man.

The tavernkeeper quickly went to the unconscious man, his eyes peering at all the other staff around as the last patron left. “When the guards show up…we are going to tell them that this idiot fell off the table and smashed his head…and everyone was so out-of-their-minds drunk that they thought someone had pushed him off… Is that understood?” he sternly stated, everyone nodding in the affirmative.

He then snapped to the standing and silent foreigner, her face unaffected and flat; “That’s my last favor to you… You’ve done…this tavern a good service but…now do me a favor and just…get out and don’t come back… This is it… I just…can’t with your quirks anymore… How someone can be both the best and worst staff is beyond me!” thus her boss so stated.

She nodded, backing away; “…understood” she replied coldly, her affect flattening.

The foreigner promptly retreated to the staffroom and collected her bag, before exiting and making way to depart.

She halted and stood before the door, turning to her peers; “…I give the apologies for this… and I hope that you are all…well” she said flatly, yet apologetically, as she did a somewhat gracious bow.

“…yeah, you too…”

“…take care, mask… I don’t really blame you…”

“…just leave before the guards come… What a mess…”

So responded a few of her peers.

Without any more delay, the foreigner silently departed out into the cold celebrating world beyond. Truly, what a start to this new year, having been terminated from the one and only job she had been so provided.

Ah, though this comes to no surprise

To those observing eyes