McCool's Tavern - Freeport 1

[Dane Summers]

Sal looked up at the two newcomers, Gorkon and his partner, and pointed to the young man playing guitar. Dane's eyes were still shut in concentration, nodding with the beat, lost in the emotion of the song.

"And I've already suffered...I want you to know...that i'm ridin' on hell's hot flames...

"...comin' up from below...far from below..."

"how high...can we go...?"

"Go...go...go...yeah....go...go...go...yeah...."

"Go...go...go...yeah....go...go...go...yeah...."

"Go...go...go...in peace...go...go...in peace..."

"Hey...help this man...I just wanna say..."

"I just wanna say...on and on again...on and on again..."

"Hell, I've already suffered...I want you to know...god, i'm ridin' on hell's hot flames...

"...comin' up from below..."

"...How far...far from below..."

"how high...can we...go?"

The music continued though the words were spent, dwindling down, the folksy melody that had filled the room now subsided, like waves leaving a shore. Little by little, the notes became softer and softer, until fading out, leaving silence behind. Dane opened his eyes, and saw that they were a bit blurry. It always happened when he poured thick emotion through his songs...having to shut his eyes to keep back tears.

Scattered applause emerged from the various patrons, who Dane hadnt even noticed coming in. he blushed slightly, drug his arm over his eyes to clear them, gave a wane smile and a sort of half bow. He grabbed his drink, took a long pull off it, and wished the alcohol would work quickly. His arm was screaming in protest at the musical workout, and Dane just felt tired.

Another wave of dizziness was on the rise as Gorkon approached.

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