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Pet Name: mindozo
Let me sing you a song,
Let me tell you a tale,
about the places of far far away.
I have traveled real far,
just don't ask where you are
but if you sit I will tell you a tale...
You approach a rock where an usukiboy of about 20 human years is rested, strumming on a mandolin with a small brown bird perched on his shoulder, who inserts cheerful chirps at random intervals in the song. You notice there are a few others crowded around the stone, listening intently. As you sit down beside a young acara, the song ceases, and the usul begins to talk.
"Hello there, my name is Mindozo. I assume you are here to listen to me speak of my travels, for what other interest I am to the simple wandering youngster? Now, before let me just say that these tales are not for the faint of heart, they are full of danger, mystery, and intrigue. While I may be a simple wandering minstrel, mine eyes have seen more than many... Now, what region shall I speak of today?" He questions as he places his mandolin at his side.
The acara next to perks up, “How about Altador?” she asks cheerfully. “Ahhhh, Altador,” Mindozo’s eyes light up, “a mysterious place indeed.” He replies. Then continuing, “While my travels have never taken me skyward, I have seen the mysterious city from below… and in my many nights spent under the starry skies, I have been transported up to the mysterious city in my dreams.”
The usul’s response does not impress you, as he had clearly never seen or visited Altador, and yet somehow he intrigues you, and you remain, bottom planted firmly on the ground as the usul begins his tale...
“While I have not traveled the lands of Altador frequently, I do remember one visit that proved to be especially interesting.” He smiled and went on, “As you may or may not know, Altador is overrun by werelupes, so it is not a very friendly place. One could say I found my way there on accident, but no matter, that is not the point of this story. So, I was peacefully, if cautiously, traveling the lands of Altador, doing as I do, telling tales, singing songs, trying to put a penny in my pocket. One night however, I found myself in a particularly dark and wooded area, with no nearby place to find lodging. I was weary from my travels, and decided I had to sleep, no matter the circumstance, and so I made myself a concealed bed of leaves, and went to sleep, mandolin close at my side for protection- protection of it of course, not of me.” He chuckled.
“Anyway,” he said as he picked up his mandolin and began to sing, a much darker tune than before.
I woke up with a start in the middle of the night,
feeling that something was wrong.
I rolled over to the side,
to find that my mandolin was gone!
I got up and searched, I looked all around
And I was at loss for words.
So I picked up my feet,
And got back on the street,
To find my beloved Mandolin...
The small audience around him clapped and giggled. It appeared that they knew he was spinning creative tales... but they did not care, they were enjoying themselves, and he was making them happy. You smile and shake your head, realizing you did not have any more time for this childish entertainment, no matter how enjoyable it might be. You begin to rise, but as the usul puts his mandolin back down to continue the story, he calls out to you, “Do hope you enjoyed the story, come back again soon, eh?” He smiles, and you smile back at him, nodding, although you know you probably won’t be back again. However, next time your travels take you by a wandering minstrel, or a spinner of tales, you know you will pause for a moment of indulgence... and remember the usul with the mandolin.
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