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Lord of Entertainment C8 Let's roll
🕑 Added 2024-08-18 10:52:39 +0000 UTCThe Trees - Rush
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As I stood watching the elves protest, I couldn't help but overhear the comments of passersby who stopped to look at the demonstration.
Their words painted a stark picture of the prejudices and tensions simmering beneath the surface of Saint Angeles society.
"These elves have nothing to do with their damn lives," one man grumbled to his companion.
A woman rolled her eyes, saying, "They're protesting again? Ugh, people already have many problems, and they want to add more by demanding we not cut down a damn tree."
"Can you believe it? It's already 1271, and these elves are stuck in the 1000s," another commented, shaking his head.
One particularly insensitive remark caught my attention: "How could their dwarf neighbors keep up with these greenies?"
A young man nudged his friend, leering, "Hehe, they're lucky they're beauties. Otherwise, I'd throw tomatoes at them."
I shook my head, dismayed by the casual dismissal and hostility directed at the elves.
It was a stark reminder of the complexities of this world I was trying to navigate. The prejudices weren't just against demons; they extended to other races as well.
Looking around the square, I noticed a difference in how the public received different performers.
Nearby, a magician dazzled a small crowd with sleight of hand tricks, while a clown made children giggle with exaggerated antics. A few yards away, a person painted in metallic colors stood perfectly still, pretending to be a statue. These performers drew smiles, applause, and even a few coins tossed into their hats.
The difference in reception was painfully clear. Entertainment was welcomed; activism was scorned. It seemed that the people of Saint Angeles preferred distraction to confrontation with uncomfortable truths.
In the nearby distance, I noticed a ballad singer performing a song praising the greatness of the United States of Novaterra. Though I recognized it as propaganda, I didn't dwell on it. My focus was on finding the right spot for my own performance.
I walked to an empty area where I'd be visible to passersby. Setting down my speaker, I glanced around cautiously before reaching into my {Inventory} to retrieve a magic core.
The core was quite large, filling my palm with its pulsing energy. With practiced movements, I inserted it into the slot on my speaker. Immediately, the device came to life with a soft static hum, powered by the magical energy.
A few curious onlookers turned their heads at the sight of my setup. Their interest piqued, they watched as I connected my electric guitar to the speaker. To the untrained eye, my instrument looked like any other guitar – nothing to suggest the sound it was about to produce.
With everything in place, I took a deep breath, savoring the moment.
This was it – the introduction of electric guitar music to Saint Angeles.
My fingers hovered over the strings for a heartbeat, then plucked.
The first notes rang out, amplified and distorted in a way this world had never heard before. Heads turned sharply in my direction, expressions a mix of surprise, confusion, and intrigue. I couldn't help but chuckle at their reactions.
"What in the world?" I heard someone mutter.
"Is that... a guitar? It doesn't sound like any guitar I've ever heard," another commented.
The elven protesters paused their chanting, their attention momentarily diverted by the strange new sound. Even the ballad singer in the distance faltered, his patriotic tune overshadowed by my electric riffs.
As I continued to play, letting my fingers dance across the fretboard, I could feel the energy in the square shifting. The initial shock was giving way to curiosity. A small crowd began to form around me, their eyes wide with wonder.
As the sound of my electric guitar filled the square, drowning out the usual bustle of city life, I knew that this was just the beginning.
A middle-aged man in a tweed jacket pushed his way to the front of the growing crowd. His face was a mixture of confusion and fascination as he pointed at my instrument.
"Young man, what is that in your hand? Is it a guitar? Why does it sound like that? It sounds like my car's engine when I forget to change the oil... but somehow more musical!"
His comment elicited soft laughter from the crowd, myself included. The humor helped ease the tension of the unfamiliar, making my strange invention seem less threatening and more intriguing.
Seizing the moment, I stood up straighter and addressed the gathering crowd with newfound confidence. "This thing in my hand may look like a guitar, but it's actually an invention of mine. I call it the Electric Guitar!"
Murmurs rippled through the audience, the words "Electric Guitar" repeated in tones ranging from skepticism to excitement.
"Electric Guitar?" a young woman in a polka dot dress mused. "A guitar with the word 'Electric' added to it? Quite interesting."
An older gentleman stroked his chin thoughtfully. "His invention, huh? Well, I'll be..."
"I've never heard anything like it," a woman in a smart business suit commented. "It's... jarring, but in a strangely appealing way. Like a thunderstorm you can dance to."
A street musician who had been performing nearby approached, his own acoustic guitar slung over his shoulder. "How does it work? Is it some kind of magic? Or is it science?"
With a grin, I positioned my fingers on the fretboard once more. "You want to know how it works?" I called out to the crowd. "Well, let me show you what this Electric Guitar can really do!"
Seizing the moment of rapt attention, I shouted, "Today, I'll perform a song that will show the beauty of this invention of mine!"
The crowd exchanged glances, a mix of skepticism and curiosity on their faces. An old man with a kindly smile nodded encouragingly. "Sure, young man. You can show us."
I smiled, took a deep breath, and began to pluck the strings of my electric guitar.
The opening notes rang out, crisp and clear, unlike anything the crowd had heard before.
Then, I began to sing, my voice blending with the unique timbre of the electric guitar:
"There is unrest in the forest,
There is trouble with the trees."
I could see people in the crowd instantly taken aback. The combination of the unfamiliar guitar sound and the lyrics seemed to capture their attention in a way they hadn't expected.
Continuing, I sang:
"For the maples want more sunlight,
And the oaks ignore their pleas."
As I played, I transitioned from the calm, melodic opening to a more intense style. My fingers flew across the fretboard, and I began to strum with increased vigor.
The electric guitar responded, its sound transforming from a gentle melody into a powerful, almost primal force. It was as if the instrument had awakened, revealing its true potential.
The crowd's reaction was immediate and visceral. Some people's eyes widened in shock, while others began to nod their heads to the rhythm.
The street musician who had approached earlier was staring at my hands, trying to understand how I was coaxing such sounds from the instrument.
In the background, I noticed the elven protesters had completely stopped their demonstration. Their signs hung loosely at their sides as they listened, perhaps hearing echoes of their own struggle in the lyrics about trees seeking fairness.
I continued into the next verse, my voice blending with the electric guitar's unique timbre:
"The trouble with the maples,
And they're quite convinced they're right!"
As I strummed the electric guitar, the crowd was visibly captivated by the novel sound. The vibrant, amplified notes seemed to resonate through their bodies, eliciting looks of wonder and excitement. The atmosphere in the square was electric, charged with the energy of this unprecedented musical experience.
