Sau'pale'ahiki, Minotaur Bard, Exiled
Brendle was proud of his stage. It had cost him a bag of silver large enough that he still winced on thinking of the day he handed it to the craftsman he contracted to build it for him a fortnight ago. "But silver well spent!" the innkeeper reassured himself. "This will bring in performers. And performers bring in patrons. And patrons bring in silver!"
In addition to the coin the stage had cost him, Brendle also invested a few discounted mugs of ale into the teamsters who drove the wagons that regularly trundled into the city. He knew that word of where a cheap drink could be found would surely be shared among all the wagon crews up and down the highway. News of his fine stage would find its way to the ears of any tag-a-long troubadours if he managed to loosen the right lips.
The opening day's usage of his stage was not going as Brendle had hoped. The first bard that had stepped up to play was only able to sing half a song before he was pulled off the stage and out the back door of the inn by three large wagoneers. What Brendle was able to piece together later, was that this particular balladeer had become a little too friendly with the wife of a wagon crew's foreman. Since they had taken the poor sap out of his inn, Brendle was wise enough to know it was no longer any concern of his.
Next to mount the stage was a troop of halfing tumblers. Small in stature though they were, there really wasn't enough room on the platform for more than the most basic of maneuvers. And when they tossed their most diminutive member into the air, to disastrous results, what with the inn's low ceilings and all, the tumblers called it quits to care for their injured comrade.
Brendle held has head in his hands at the bar, trying to ignore the screeching voice of the acne ridden lad currently doing what could only be called singing by the most charitable of listeners. Where had he gone wrong, he thought. What caused him to be cursed with such a tragedy of a day? Besides the wailing youth, there had been a juggler that caught the wrong end of his juggling knives, a half-orc "comedian" that everyone laughed at more out of fear than actual mirth, and two men, both with trained monkeys. But no amount of training will overcome nature's urges, and Brendle was not interested in having that kind of show in his establishment, so both men and their monkeys were quickly asked to leave.
"I will perform next." Brendle looked up from his hands to the massive form on the other side of the bar top. "My name is Sau'pale'ahiki. I will perform next, innkeeper," growled the minotaur standing before him. "O..of course! I think the stage will fr..free momentarily!" stammered Brendle. "Good," the minotaur replied.
Sau'pale'ahiki turned away from Brendle and approached the stage. Patrons scooted their chairs away from his great form as he crossed the inn. The boy on the stage had stopped singing and was staring wide eyed and open mouthed at the minotaur. Realizing he was in the creature's path, the boy scrambled off the stage and dashed out of the inn.
The minotaur righted the stool the boy had knocked over in his haste to get away and reached into a large pouch at his belt and pulled out a small black box. He set the box on the stool and gently opened it. From him spot at the back of the bar, Brendle couldn't see what was in box, but he heard someone near the stage stifle a laugh.
Sau'pale'ahiki whipped his head around and glared at the patrons of the inn. Silence fell over everyone under the steely gaze of the minotaur. Brendke could now see what had caused the laughter. Clutched delicately in Sau'pale'ahiki's hand was a small wooden flute.
"My name is Sau'pale'ahiki! I will play, and you will listen!" the minotaur bellowed, sending shivers of fear into more than a couple of the inn's guests. He then lifted the small instrument to his mouth. As his lips touched the opening to the flute, Sau'pale'ahiki closed his eyes, and his bestial face softened.
Soft gasps came from the audience as a haunting melody filled the air of the inn. A melody so filled with longing and loss, that Brendle could feel tears forming in his eyes. It was a song that spoke of noble mountains, looming high over endless stretches of prairie. It spoke of the love of a family and a community. It spoke of honor and pride. But overall, it spoke of the forfeiture of all of those things and the pain of losing them. Years later, Brendle would still be unable to articulate how he was able to hear so much in a song with no words.
The inn was silent when the last bars of Sau'pale'ahiki's song dissipated. Grunting his approval, the minotaur turned and gingerly placed the flute back in its case and put the case back in his pouch. He then walked across the still quiet hall and out the front door, never to return again to Brendle's inn.
