[open] a fantastic public charity event!

[cointosser]

Who: Jaskier, open to all of the Free Cities!
What: The bard is holding a concert at Cadens's Old Public Hall in order to raise money for its renovation!
Where: Cadens
When: The end of March, a bit after the eclipse/Singularity event shenanigans
Warnings: None. This is a family-friendly event. :)

The Event

[Flyers hand-written and posted around the city of Cadens promise many a thing: a lovely night of community and belonging, beautiful decorations, a precious place to bring your bonnie sweet (the most important.) Jaskier fully intends on this being the perfect date night; the more lovers who become closer thanks to him, the better. The hall will see a larger audience than it ever has before! And hopefully more money will be thrown at it than ever before.

Of course, that’s what this is: a charity concert being held to raise funds for the old Cadens speaking hall, a large hall that has long fallen into disrepair. Through the efforts of Jaskier (and mostly) Alucard, restoration of the hall has begun. However, it has far more renovations ahead of it, and coin will be needed.

The concert is meant to be a grand time, but, it is about the money. This is a charity event, technically. But there's no reason he can't have fun with it.

And since Jaskier does nothing by halves, he has gone fully all-out. At the concert, any goers will be free to partake in:

+ free food (courtesy of himself, Alucard, and Sam's cooking, generally fresh bread, rolls, sweets, cheeses, and various finger foods and slices of roasts)
+ free wine and local juices (mostly paid out of Jaskier's pocket)
+ flowers will be given out, though it is STRONGLY IMPLIED a donation is expected (bouquets can be purchased for your honey, as well)
+ Nadine will be going around the crowd and providing small samples of tonics and potions

There will also be a small raffle that Jaskier will be running. Tickets can be bought for a small fee, and ticket holders can win small prizes of bouquets (courtesy of yours truly), a box of fresh pastries from the local bakery, an array of prized feathers from his pet toy gryphon, or a slightly fancier bottle of wine. The ultimate prize will be a free song written personally for you by Jaskier, all topics and requests accepted. Yes, it is a grand prize. For the small prizes, you can decide whether your ticket is a winner or a loser!

Please, remember to keep your behaviors amenable, fair citizens of Cadens. This concert is for charity, and no roughhousing, fighting, or generally ill tempers will be suffered. And as an event on city property, it is meant to remain completely neutral. No politics or you'll be kindly escorted outside the event!]

The Old Public Hall



[The Cadens Public Hall is an old, large speaking hall hosting distinctive architectural features that are strongly Thornean in influence. Like the old days, the concert is mostly meant to be standing-room only; the second floor mezzanine has been blocked off due to unsafe conditions (mostly old, rotting floorboards.) There's a slight musty smell that lingers despite Jaskier's best efforts to hide it.

His attempts to hide it are vast in number: every where one looks are richly colorful groupings of flowers, tied to pillars, hanging from strings of semi-magical lights that have been criss-crossed over the main concert area to mimic the sight of stars, and growing from pots meant to hide dusty corners. Illusionary birds fly and flutter about, adding spots of color and life to the old hall.

Small tables and chairs have been set out the entrance for folks to eat and relax at while music fills the hall and spills out.

Jaskier himself headlines the music, accompanied by a flautist, a drummer and a cellist. Songs that he performed at the Summit are part of his set: a song that venerates the magical accomplishments of Thorne (which may earn some grumbles from local Cadenites, but that same magic flows through the hall itself, amplifying the music and preventing echoing and regulating temperature.) His ballad about Lyfbringr, one of the gods of Solvunn, features, with a slightly baudy edge to it. But most prominent are several songs about the Free Cities themselves: bastions of hope for those who have lost their home, rich mixing pots of culture and people, with fantastic advances in technology.

Peppered among the songs are general fun, upbeat songs. As the night draws to a close, the songs become slower and softer, meant for dances between lovers.

Between sets of songs, Jaskier can be see moving through the crowd, shaking hands, dancing, and showing off his precious new pet toy gryphon named Mog, with black fur and feathers and an owlish face. (Yes, you can pet him.) Mog accompanies him on stage as well, flicking his tail and sleeping inside his lute case.]

Speech, Speech, Speech

[Like all good events, it must begin with a speech.

At the beginning of the concert, while his band behind him plays quiet music, Jaskier takes the head of the dais that is acting at the stage, giving the concert-goers a hearty bow with a sweep of his large, feathered hat.]

Hello and greetings, my fellow citizens of Cadens! While you may not know me -- though I highly doubt that, if you've ever stepped foot into a local tavern -- I have been dwelling in your city in some time now as the conveniently-dubbed Summoned. I am the Master Bard Jaskier, and tonight we have gathered for a few hours of good will and merriment.

I have been welcomed into your city ever since I came here by chance, and have long wanted to give back in what ways I can. This concert is being held for the good of the very hall we stand in, long having fallen to disrepair in lieu of other pursuits -- important ones, I'm sure! -- by the city. However, as a musician, I have high respect for any such beautiful place, and I have recently began working tirelessly with an anonymous patron and friend to restore this grand old beauty for the use of all Cadens citizens.

Please, peruse the first floor of the hall to see our recent work in restoring and preserving historical Cadens architecture. There is free food and drink for all -- though, if you're a known glutton, learn a bit of restraint for the sake of the children. [Laugh track.] There are small gifts available in return for donations at the stands just ousdie. There will be collection plates placed around the tables, and by the door -- you'll see that lovely young man there, yes? He'll be glad to take your coin off your hands! [Another laugh track. He's hilarious, he knows.] All donations will go straight to the restoration of this historic hall.

By your leave, lovely gents and beautiful dames, I bid you a wonderful night. May your hearts be light, and your coin purses even lighter!

For ideas about the general mood of the music:

Youtube Bardcore Playlist

Comments

[cointosser]

[It is with luck that Jaskier has a good deal of experience traveling through the Horizon. Though it does not perfectly suit him anymore, his caravan, he is still happy to take a ride on one his vampiric horses (thank you, Alucard) to explore those domains both new and old. The mountain of fire. Geralt's peaks of ice and snow. He enjoys long walks around the forest protecting Alucard's cabin (and the horses enjoy it as well) and trips to domains he once knew well: the duck-filled creek of Phoenix, or the dwelling of frost trolls with Jon.

They are empty now, or replaced with something else. As if their existence is erased.

But no matter now. His experience helps him pick apart the places Dean's place may rest, and he finds it eventually: a building set out similar to the tavern he once had, when he looks at it from far enough, but larger, with less smells of hearthsmoke (thank god.) The music is unfamiliar, reminding him of the music in Julie's club but softer, somehow -- it doesn't thump so demandingly through his ribs.

Hopefully Dean does not mind a horse with a slight thirst for blood tied up outside. Radu is a good boy, just a bit teethy.

As he steps inside, he lights a smile. Ah. So he was right! Well, of course he was.]

I can certainly say it's not an academy I've attended so far. [But excuse him, Dean, because the music is rather lovely in a strange, unfamiliar way, but he's also distracting himself with everything in here that's just as foreign. Lights burning without flames is common enough in Cadens, but it's things like lights lighting underneath bottles of every color. The long, smoothed counter of wood, so smooth it's like it's covered in wax. The smell of something heavy and deep having settled into the bar's very foundations.

And, of course, the wall that is lit up with moving images.]

I can feel the comfort in this place. [He runs his hand along the counter, tapping his rings against its surface. Perhaps their taverns are very different, but they are still unmistakable. And this is where he has always thrived. Where he has felt at home.] Where is the music coming from? Should you not have live music in such a lovely place?

[Suppose it was easy enough to have it magically playing from nowhere. Julie did the same.]

[righteously]

( Dear god may he never find out about that horse. The nightmares.

I can feel the comfort and lovely place earns a raised eyebrow and an assessing glance around his bar like he's double-checking where he actually is. Not exactly sentiments he's ever heard anyone say about the Roadhouse, though the former's definitely true. The latter... Well, it's a dive bar. Depends on your perspective, he guesses. )

They did, sometimes. Live bands, once in a while. Not exactly an every night kinda thing.

( Too Podunk, and not enough patrons to justify it half the time.

About that first question — he angles his body toward the moving pictures a little and gestures grandly. )

This, my friend, is a flat screen television. It's coming from that. Playing on the screen at this time is what we from the MTV age call a music video.

[cointosser]

[When one began their career in the equivalent of medieval dive bars, one can't hope but be terribly fond.]

A shame. To have manufactured music instead. Though, to be honest, I suppose I wouldn't know the difference if I wasn't sitting here to see it empty.

[He means it the way music carried through the Old Public Hall: as if magic itself carries the notes, not letting walls block their echoes, but not allowing the echoes to linger to hollow out the tones. The music, instead, feels as if it bleeds through the very walls, unfettered by air or wood.]

A television. [He repeats the word, thinking on it for a moment.] Ah! Sam has one of these, too, though it's far from flat. Or as large.

[But it never had pictures moving on it, from what he saw. Thankfully Julie showed him photographs, her phone, so he is not completely caught off guard by the idea of things moving on a screen.

His eyes follow the movements of the musicians when they appear, though it's cut in with other various images, somewhat related to the lyrics. Somewhat. His brows raise.] It's a moving story devoted to the song itself?

[Not hard to pick up on, but the concept -- brilliant.] Well. Fuck me. Is there only this one?

[righteously]

( Far from flat gets a knowing nod. Yeah, no, he's familiar with the clunky boxes of motel rooms in the mid 2000s. Flat screens are a luxury that a media nerd like him has always coveted. Fortunately, they're in a land of imagination and free consumerism, so his big ass flat screen dreams are made real. Suck it, Best Buy.

He plays up an exaggerated pity when he shakes his head. )

Oh, you sweet naive Medieval luteist. I have so much to teach you.

( It is his solemn duty as the sole representative of Good Music from Earth.

Yes, that's right. The sole representative. He is aware there are plenty of 21st Century Earthers here. He is the sole representative and they can all fight him.

Step one: pull a bottle of beer out from the minifridge beneath the counter and pass it over Jaskier's direction. Step two, plant his elbows onto the bar like he's settling in for a lecture. )

Any musician, any band that's worth anything, records their songs for the masses to listen to. Not all songs have music videos, but... I mean, we're talking millions at least. Check it out-

( He shifts to pluck up a remote, then begins to flip through a few, spending only maybe forty seconds on each, save the last which he leaves on as he shoves away from the bar. )

But that's not what I wanna show you today. That's not important.

( He crosses the room toward a nearby closet, then opens it up — his chosen way of manifesting things into the Horizon, apparently.

Inside, a Les Paul electric guitar hooked up to an amp, sitting on a stand, waiting. )

This, my friend... This is the sound you're lookin' for.

( Is he going to understand a Back to the Future reference? No. Has that ever stopped him before? Also no. )

[cointosser]

I prefer lutenist, actually. And what, exactly, is medieval?

[Dean, this is going to happen a lot. You better be prepared for it if you're going to be dropping a bunch of inevitable pop culture references in the future. But Jaskier's plenty used to Geralt ignoring all of his questions, so he moves on without really waiting for an answer (because it doesn't matter, and clearly isn't an insult. It's not as if Dean can claim to be a master lutenist.)

He takes his beer, however, opening it on the corner of the bar. He may have learned a few tricks from Julie's bar. It bubbles, and the taste is -- mm. A bit sweet, but not terrible. Certainly not close to the shit ale he'd had in Posada.

Jaskier is uncharacteristically quiet as he takes a stool, eyes on the screen. Honestly, he's like to take a condescending lecture if he gets something out of it -- and despite how Dean grates on his nerves sometimes, he is offering glimpses of his world through music. Something Jaskier has taken more interest in as time goes on. And offer he does. The videos are full of strange, foreign things -- vehicles, instruments, even lights.

Those are not the things that catch his attention.

It's the people. The crowds. He stares, open-mouthed, as the screen shows a glimpse of what must be hundreds of people, all in one place, their arms waving through the air --]

They played for hundreds of peoples. In concert venues? [Such as the Old Public Hall. But from what he can see, even the Hall would pale in the size of these places.

He turns and follows Dean, peeking around his shoulder to see... well, whatever that is, surely it's meant to be very special to him.

It's pretty, of course, but almost in an artificial way.] It's not making any sound. [He moves around him with a sweep of his coat, tipping his head. He doesn't make to grab it yet.] May I?

[The best way to learn, of course, is to throw yourself right into it.] Or do you have a demonstration to give?

[righteously]

( Lutenist - noted, then promptly discarded. Lutenist forever, sorry man.

Hundreds of people. His lips quirk up again, and he tosses out a casual: )

Four hundred thousand people turned up at Woodstock.

( Which is on the higher end of things, but you know. Worth a mention. Gotta dream a little bit bigger, darling.

Anyway — he steps out of the way and offers a wide, sweeping gesture at the guitar. )

Go ahead, give it a shot. Knock yourself out.

( Mostly because he's curious as hell to see how Jaskier will fair going from zero to hands-on with this thing for the first time. )

[cointosser]

[Jaskier stares at him. He stares, and after a moment, he laughs. The number is equivalent to telling a modern man of a trillion dollars; a number so large it ceases to truly have any meaning.

It's a number that may encompass Nilfgaard's army -- if it were tripled. A seemingly ludicrous number.

And then his laugh stops, and Dean stands there looking so proud of himself.

Four hundred thousand. Perhaps if he sat for a week and counted every second, he would reach a similar number.

He lets it go with a shake of his head. He isn't sure whether his new company is making a jest or not, but he also seems to come from a sphere where men can easily record music, to advertise it, to get more ears to listen to it. Things that, simply, were impossibilities to a bard. The only way he could be forever memorialized was to have his music written and memorized.

Which he fully intends to. He is, after all, the Continent's greatest bard.]

Very well. [He thinks of those people with their hands waving, cheering. The energy that crackled in the room; a room he's never been in, that he will never be in, but he can see it behind his eyes, can feel himself moving with the music. He jerks over a stool with his foot, carefully picking up the instrument. It's much heavier than his lute, weighing his hands down. As he takes a seat, he has to find the spot where the curve of its body fits against his thigh, different from the bowl-like roundness of his lute.

His fingers follow the strings. A touch of surprise raises his brows.] They're cold. [And some sort of metal, he thinks.] Not catgut. Far fewer strings, too. [When he plucks it, to his ears, it's wholly unfamiliar, outside the fact it is, indeed, a musical note. Something deep, like the growl of an animal, combined with this coldness. Not a bad coldness, he thinks, but different from animal gut strings.

He beings plucking, as he does his lute, measuring the distance between the strings. Easier to strum now they're not grouped in doubles, and his calloused fingers can still move against them similarly.

It's always been fascinating to him, the more he learns, how things can be so bizarrely, unfathomably different, and yet he can always find something familiar to him. He begins moving over the strings, adjusting his fingers on its sleek neck, adjusting to the weight, the balance, the feel of it. The coldness. But the strings are warming up the more he plays. It's a bit of cacophony at first, figuring out the similarities, the differences... but he is the Continent's greatest bard.

He begins with something quieter, simpler, because the notes this things create reverberate almost too loudly in his head. A fantasia comes through, slow notes melting into quicker plucks, as he plays with moving from flicks of his nail to the longer strums, letting the vibrations roll as they will.

It's a fascinating thing. Beautiful in its exotic sound. The last note rolls longer than it would on gut, but lower, towards the bridge, he finds this fascinating emptiness. Something these synthetic strings cannot replicate from the gut.]

It's frightening similar, despite all its differences.

[righteously]

( Dean's lips tug down into something a cross between surprised and impressed, and as Jaskier finds his groove, he nods along approvingly. Mark of a truly talented musician, being able to pick up just about anything and figure out how to translate it. )

Comes in acoustic, too. Check it out.

( He offers, closing the closet and then opening it back up again. Inside, a simple wooden acoustic guitar with a surprisingly worn down strap — pulled from memory rather than imagination.

This one he keeps for himself, slinging the strap over his neck. He's not even remotely near Jaskier's level, only played off and on since he was a teenager. Hasn't managed to own one himself long enough to learn anything significant, but just to demonstrate, he strums out a few simple chords for one of the songs he knows. )

[cointosser]

[Oh, he knows impressed when he sees it. And he delights in it. For the first time in a very long time, he's working with an instrument he knows less of than its owner. And though Dean perhaps is not on his level (they can't all justify an entire life dedicated to music, after all), the other guitar he brings out to play still carries plenty of talent in its own way.

Though the one Dean first showed him is fascinating, he can't help but perk up at the sounds of the acoustic instrument, which is far closer to the familiar notes of his lute.]

Absolutely lovely. And worn. [He grins.] So you practice between all your hunts, then? Enough time, you would have made a fine musician. I have always thought that an appreciation for music is far more important than one's skill in the technical aspects. Those can always be refined. But teaching someone what music can do is... well, rather impossible.