Tempokai

  This is the collection of stories about The Drifter. He was an actual person who lived centuries ago.

  There were rumors among the common folk that one could see him wandering the streets in various towns. These tales became legends over time until finally they were told by bards in taverns all across the nd. It wasn't just the common people that believed these tales—some nobles even cimed to have met the enigmatic musician. They described him as being exceptionally handsome, wearing a cloak made of bck cloth that shimmered when he moved, and carrying a magical guitar that emitted strange sounds. Some said that if you listened carefully enough, you would hear beautiful melodies coming from the instrument. Others insisted he pyed the most terrible tunes imaginable. No matter what kind of music he pyed, the stories had one thing in common: Every tale ended with the mysterious performer disappearing without a trace.

  However, there are those that cim they can actually remember seeing the Drifter himself. And perhaps, is still alive to this day.

  ***

  Story of The Drifter and The Demon King

  One night, after hearing the story of the legendary Drifter, the demon king took up his harp and began singing. A powerful voice rose from deep within the depths of Hell, causing the earth to shake. This voice echoed through every corner of the kingdom. Everyone present looked around in astonishment at the sight, unable to believe their ears.

  "What in bzes…?"

  "… is that voice?!"

  After a few moments of silence, someone dared to ask on everyone's mind: Who was that?

  No sooner had the word left his mouth than the entire room burst into ughter. Not because the sound amused them, but because they knew full well whose voice it belonged to.

  It happened again two days ter, and then once more before the end of the month. Each time, the demon king sang another bald, causing the people to ugh at his expense. Eventually, the demon king grew tired of their mocking, and he challenged the humans to a duel. He demanded to bring him the greatest musician on the nd and promised that whoever lost would lose his head. If this proved unsuccessful, the demon king vowed to kill anyone else who tried to challenge him.

  The first challenger was a warrior known far and wide throughout the kingdom. He was your out of the box hero, blessed by the gods with great strength and intelligence. Armed with nothing but his sword and shield, he died. After that, there came a wizard, a magician, and other such men. All perished under the demon king's merciless attack. At st, a mysterious man came. The Drifter, they called him.

  At the very least, he possessed exceptional musical talent. He wasn't an ordinary man, because the ordinary came with the swords against him, but he with his guitar.

  They both stood in the stage demon king build in a second notice. Demon king took the lead and pyed his own tune. The Drifter followed along with his guitar, and soon the audience couldn't tell which song belonged to whom. The battle went on for hours, but the Drifter never faltered. Demon king also did not sck off. As the evening wore on, the crowd became restless. Both combatants were too busy strumming their guitars to notice. But soon, it changed. There was something different about the songs that the Drifter sang now. Something sinister. Soon, the demon king realized he could hear his own death coming.

  Ten. The Drifter started counting. Ten. The demon king continued to py his harp, oblivious. Five. Now it was the Drifter's turn to sing. Three. One. Then all hell broke loose.

  The giant magic circle appeared under the feet of the demon king. An explosion rocked the entire castle, and demons flew everywhere. Screams filled the air, and blood sprayed the walls. The Drifter watched silently, his eyes aglow. Finally, he lifted his guitar and closed his eyes.

  Then he sang.

  "I am the Drifter," he whispered, "the one who brings peace to this realm. I will teach you a lesson. And you shall learn yours…"

  ?

  Story of The Drifter and A Foolish King

  A long time ago, there lived a mighty king who ruled over a rge nation. This king loved to gamble, and he often risked everything he owned on games of chance. His riches accumuted until they surpassed even those of the gods themselves, and he spent most of his time gambling away his wealth.

  One day, while the king was sitting down to lunch, he noticed a strange man wandering through the streets outside the pace gate. This stranger looked completely unassuming, wearing nothing more than rags in his eyes. No matter how much the king stared at him, he never turned his back. Instead, he kept walking straight ahead.

  Finally, the king ordered his guards to capture the vagrant and take him to his throne room. When the stranger arrived at the king's presence, he bowed deeply before taking his seat on the ground. "Forgive me for disturbing Your Highness. My name is The Drifter. You may call me whatever you wish, except 'sve'. That would be disrespectful."

  King's anger fred up immediately. How dare this vagabond address him thus! "Who are you, to speak to my majesty like that?"

  The Drifter replied calmly, "You are the king. It is proper courtesy to treat royalty with respect."

  As if the situation had become hopeless, the king finally snapped. "Very well then. Call me King!"

  The Drifter nodded respectfully, although his expression suggested otherwise. Foolish king indeed.

  "Now listen here. What business have you been here? If you're trying to get into my good graces, save your breath. You won't find any gold coins among these ragged clothes you wear. Get out of here!"

  But The Drifter refused to budge. "Your Majesty, forgive my rudeness, but please allow me to introduce myself properly. My name is The Drifter. I come from the faraway nd of Leitte, where the sun shines brightly every day. I have listened to many stories of your kingdom, and I must say that they all make for great reading. For instance—"

  The king grew impatient. "Get on with it! Why should I waste another second listening to your nonsense?"

  "Yes, yes. As I was saying—in Leitte, we live happily together in perfect harmony… But that isn't quite right. There is one group of people who cannot share our blissful life. They can only look on from afar, yearning for something better."

  "What is it they want?" asked the king, curious.

  "They want freedom, Your Highness. Freedom to choose their own destiny. And I here to enforce it. By any means necessary. That is why I travel around the world, spreading tales of hope and songs of salvation."

  King's fury rose once again. "So, what are you telling me? Off with your head! Or else, prepare yourself for death by hanging!"

  But The Drifter did not move a muscle. "My king," he spoke gently, "you are not worthy of hearing my words. Do you truly believe that you possess the power to destroy me?"

  "Why do you insist on talking nonsense? I'll kill you now!"

  With that, the king raised his hand, ready to strike. But just before contact could be made, a sudden gust of wind blew past the king, causing his arm to jerk upward. It bends backward, nearly breaking off his wrist. Without a word, the king colpsed onto the floor.

  No one knows where the wind came from or who caused it, but The Drifter walked toward him. "That wind was a warning from the spirits. Pay attention next time." Then, without waiting for permission, he took hold of the king's broken arm. With a snap, the bone knitted itself back together. The pain was felt so sharply, even through the thick stone walls of the pace.

  The Drifter looked over his shoulder at the astonished soldiers, then turned back to the king. "Do you understand now?"

  After a moment of silence, the king whispered, "A curse?"

  "Curse? Pfft. Worse than a curse. A blessing. Listen carefully: This country will soon perish. You've heard rumors already. Don't tell me you didn't notice them. All the people of this nd will suffer, and you are going to die. You're a cause for celebration when you fall, and nothing more. I'm sorry, but that's the truth of things."

  King's eyes widened in horror. He knew exactly what The Drifter meant. At this rate, his beloved kingdom would surely crumble away into ruin. He understood now. He was a fool, and his pride had blinded him. He wasn't fit to rule this country anymore.

  Still, there was no way he was giving up his throne. "You insolent vagabond!"

  But The Drifter simply smiled. "Then you shall have to fight me for it…"

  As The Drifter pyed his guitar, he cast spells upon King's body, forcing him to fight against himself. Meanwhile, The Drifter began singing a song of peace. "This world is yours, and mine. We are all brothers and sisters, children of the earth."

  It was at this moment, when The Drifter sang the st verse, that the people of Liette realized what must be done. They gathered in front of the castle gate, awaiting their new leader. As night fell, the gates were opened. The crowd poured out into the streets, holding torches high above their heads. No longer would the people of Liette bow down to royalty. Instead, they would rise against injustice and oppression.

  The Drifter continued pying his guitar, while the crowds chanted his name: "Drifter, drifter, drifter…!"

  And thus, the people governed themselves. Their lives were free from fear, and their voices were strong. And although The Drifter never revealed his real identity, his songs still echoed throughout the nd, carrying messages of hope.

  ?

  A story of The Drifter and the future Queen.

  Long ago, a little girl lived in a small vilge. Her parents died when she was young, and her uncle brought her to live in the royal city. There she grew up among other orphans and servants, learning the ways of court life. She learned that kings and queens ruled the world and that their authority could not be challenged. But one day, she happened across a strange man wandering alone along the forest road.

  The man wore a hooded cloak and carried an enchanted guitar. Though he looked young, he seemed far older than any normal person should be. His voice was deep, almost frightening. "I see," said the girl after listening to his song. "So that's why we have such terrible wars and fights between countries. Because the rulers are too greedy."

  At first, the man ignored the girl, continuing to sing his song. But finally, he stopped strumming and turned to look at her. "Who are you?" he asked.

  "My name is—"

  "Ah. So you can hear my words, then."

  She nodded. "Yes."

  "How remarkable. Now, listen closely—my name is The Drifter. It means 'the one who roams the world.' My instrument is an enchanted guitar that allows me to cast spells through the power of music."

  The girl listened intently. Although she had grown up hearing stories of kings and queens ruling the nds, she hadn't yet fully grasped how much those rulers controlled everything. Until she met The Drifter, she didn't even realize just how powerless ordinary citizens were. "Do you mean to tell me that everyone may choose their own destiny?"

  "That's exactly right. I'm trying to bring justice to the world by helping the people regain control over their destinies."

  The girl pondered his words. She felt as if they held meaning beyond what she could understand. "What will happen to me once I leave here?" she asked. "Will you come looking for me again someday?"

  The Drifter ughed. "Not likely."

  "Why?"

  "Because your future is decided for you already. You're going to become queen of this country. Don't worry. I'll help you rule wisely."

  King and kingdom meant nothing to The Drifter. To him, it was merely a stage for his performances. "Your duty is to protect these people and serve them well. That way, you'll find peace within yourself. Seek nothing else."

  "But…"

  "There is no need for you to think further ahead. You already know that, but you could not accept it until now. All you needed was someone to expin it to you. I've done all I can. Now you must decide whether to go down the path before you or walk off into the woods. What do you say?"

  For a moment, the girl hesitated, then nodded. "Very well. Then I thank you for showing me the truth. Goodbye."

  The Drifter watched her leave without saying another word. At st, he took out his guitar and began pying a different tune.

  ?

  How The Drifter Stopped A Demon Invasion

  One day, while wandering around the nd, The Drifter heard strange voices coming from the forest nearby. Curious, he followed the sounds and found three demons sitting atop a hill. They were chanting something that sounded like gibberish. Their eyes glowed red, and they seemed to worship some kind of idol.

  As the demons continued their chant, the ground beneath them rumbled. This was clearly no natural phenomenon, as The Drifter knew immediately that the demons were summoning some sort of dimensional gate. And sure enough, moments ter, a hole appeared in the air, sending pieces of rock flying everywhere. One stone nded directly next to The Drifter, causing him to duck reflexively.

  An evil aura surrounded the portal, making The Drifter instinctively draw his guitar. With his fingers wrapped tightly around its neck, he strummed the first few notes of "The Song of Creation." Immediately after, a tremendous force erupted from the portal, knocking all three demons back onto the earth. As soon as the noise faded away, The Drifter turned toward the opening, wondering why the demons weren't attacking.

  They were gone. Only the opening remained behind.

  With no idea how to close the portal, The Drifter walked closer to examine it more carefully. The area was still shaking, although the tremors had lessened considerably. But there was one thing that bothered him: there was no sign of any magic or energy emanating from the hole itself. He knew little about such things, but he recognized the fact that this wasn't normal. He had seen something like this before—it was a rift leading to another dimension.

  However, unlike most other dimensions, this one was extremely dangerous. It was to a whatever demonic realm y inside.

  A chill ran through The Drifter's spine as he realized this could mean trouble. Demons from the underworld often came up here to invade. If those creatures had somehow got past the barrier between worlds, he would have to warn everyone in the nearest town.

  While he contempted what to do, his guitar hummed lightly in response to his thoughts. The Drifter looked down at his instrument and saw that it was glowing slightly. After a brief pause, the light intensified, forming a single word on his guitar's strings. "Gateway".

  At st, The Drifter understood what was going on. That was precisely what this gateway led to! The demon invasion was imminent, and the only way to prevent it was to stop it before it happened. He held his guitar tightly and stroked its neck again, concentrating intensely. A terrific, yet familiar sensation washed over him, and he felt a sense of power filling his body.

  The Drifter closed his eyes and sang along with his guitar. His voice grew stronger, and he felt as if the song itself possessed some mystical ability.

  "The Symphony Of Destruction."

  His words rang out across the space surrounding the portal. All the rocks and dirt flew off the ground, and then a wall formed around the opening. The wall was covered in runes carved into it, and as he sang, he traced each letter with his fingertips. At once, the symbols glowed faintly, and then vanished completely.

  The Drifter finished singing the song, and the portal disappeared. The tremors ceased instantly.

  Now the only remaining evidence left of the gateway was a faint echo, which sounded simir to the distant cry of a shriek of a siren.

  The Drifter stood up straight, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and took a deep breath. Then, satisfied with himself, he returned to his wagon, packed up his guitar, and headed for the closest town. No one will know that The Drifter prevented a terrible disaster.