Role

Chapter 1

"Just leave the bottle," the drow said as he stared into another
shot of warm whiskey as if he were gazing into a lover's eyes.
Amber-hued memories flickered and rippled before him, rousing
vague, directionless anger that he always managed to guide towards
Darsylon, the Guild, Shokai, and anyone else he had the ingenuity
to weave into the tapestry that told tale of his fall from grace.
Unfortunately, he was very intelligent, and so no one escaped his
ire. As he stewed in this broth of self-pity and hatred, the only
thing that could calm the maelstrom was this, his fine, fermented
friend.

The mild upturn in his mood as he downed the shot turned to explosive
rage as he snapped, "Olin, this tastes like dwarven piss water! I
told you I wanted Barovian! Twice!"

With a subtle roll of his eyes and a long exhale that most people
would never notice, Olin responded, "Why don't you keep it down, Mel?
I can't have you bringing everyone down tonight...why, it's the Day
of Freedom, you know? Everyone wants to have a good time, I don't know
why you insi-..."

"Day of FREEDOM, you say?! Oh yes, YES, we ALL want to reminisce about
how FREE we all are, don't we!?" Melrauko spun around on his bar stool
and stood up, emboldened by all the eyes now looking at him. Oh, how
they sickened him. Liars, all of them. They came here to get drunk,
flirt, and hopefully fornicate back at their shitty little farms, caring
not an ounce for the sacred meaning of this day.

Olin sighed heavily this time, and put his head in his hands.

"How about we call this the Day of Truth? Shall I tell you the truth,
my little pigs? This girl here," he said as he pointed to a young
woman with a low-cut blouse, "she's married to that man there." He
pointed to the surprised-looking man who was talking to another woman
at the end of the bar. "She came here because this is her birthday,
and he wanted to celebrate. But, IN FACT, he came here to see this
harlot...no, not that one...yes, the one with the nice ass! Notice
how he doesn't even hide the fact that he's talking to her? That would
definitely cause some trouble back at the ol' farmstead," he proclaimed
the last couple of words with a mock cockney voice and a quick jig,
"if it weren't for the fact that he is going to KILL his BELOVED wife
tonight on the way home!"

A horrified gasp from the crowd couldn't muffle Melrauko's cackling.
After taking a long swig from his bottle (and muttering "piss"), he
announced, "Let's give her a fine sing-along for her birthday, mates!
Happy birthday to yoooouuuuu!! Happy birthday TO yoOoUuuUuuUUuu..."

He was still singing as he found himself being thrown like a heap of
laundry off of the Inn's porch and onto the dirt. Oh, how he loved the
power of truth, and it never ceased to amaze him at how structure and
order were built and maintained with lies, while the truth brought all
to chaos.