Prof climbed up to the stage behind Mini and tried to see, what was happening. A Perception of 11, however, wasn''t enough to make out much due to darkness and distance.


    “I don’t see much, only shapes milling about.”


    “Hah! See, this is why I’m such an outstanding person! Exceptionally high Perception and innate Blood Magic! Bath in the radiation of my amazingness!”


    “Of course, your Gloriousness! So, what’s happening?”


    “The Hog Raiders are having a lively discussion. It looks like half of them want to join the party and the other half… Wants to join the party."


    “So, both halves want to join in the concert? What are they discussing then?”


    “How should I know? I can see but not hear them!”


    “How do you know then, they are having a discussion?”


    “Well, they are hitting each other with fists. What else would you call that? A brawl?”


    Obviously, Mini was right. A squadron of mounted Goblins hitting each other with fists simply couldn''t have been a brawl! Such a thing never happened with highly trained professionals outside of a bar. Anyway, Prof already learned, it was no use arguing semantics with Mini. A lively discussion it was.


    “DEAR FANS! THIS WILL BE THE LAST BUT ONE SONG! YOU ALL KNOW IT! DO IT LIKE THIS! CLAP! CLAP! STOMP! YES! DO IT AGAIN!” Wolfgang was leading up to a well-known song. Well-known even for Greenskins. Well, they were in for a surprise – the mythrill version!


    The audience''s reaction could have been described only as thunderous. Or deafening, roaring, or even earsplitting. If Prof had a dictionary, he could have listed another few synonyms for very loud and enthusiastic. Which the reaction definitely was.


    CLAP!


    CLAP!


    STOMP!


    CLAP!


    CLAP!


    STOMP!


    The ground was shaking from all those Greenskins STOMPing at the same time. At least the stage was shaking. Prof sincerely hoped the carpenters did an excellent job of erecting it, and it wouldn''t fall apart simply because a few thousand (or was it already tens of thousands?) Greenskins CLAPping and STOMPing. Dying under a poorly constructed stage would be ridiculous and Prof wasn''t interested in going back to the Afterlife Office yet.


    “Oh, the discussion was resolved," Mini informed him. "Here they come!"


    Even Prof could see that. Part of a mounted squadron charging at a few (tens of) thousands of partying folks was hard to miss. Even in darkness.


    “This looks like fun!” Mini continued “A quarter of the squadron is now charging at the other riders, who are charging at the folks! Look! The audience is fighting back! Ehmmm… A part of the audience is fighting back, at least. What? Now a part of the audience is attacking the defending part! The original riders just smashed the smaller part! What a fun party! Prof, you are simply the best! Who needs another hero, when we can do a mass brawl on our own? Infantry is closing in! Even they are fighting each other! Let’s go! We should participate too!”


    The situation was going to go from bad to utter shit very fast. Prof was absolutely sure, he should not participate in a brawl of epic proportions. This wasn’t “lively discussion” territory anymore, and not even a brawl. This was more like a full-grown battle with two… three… ehmm… countless sides.


    “I think, this will go down into the history books as the Battle of Wooden Stock." Wilhelm approached after the band finished the last song.


    “Wooden Stock? Because they are using wooden weapons? I do see the glints of metal, however.”


    “No. The racetrack’s name is Wooden Stock. It was a depot for a timber trader a few decades ago. The name just stuck.”


    “Uh, I see… But why are they fighting? Sure, the not-Guildmaster wanted to sink this concert, but why is everyone fighting each other?”


    “Oh, did he, now?” Wolfgang joined the discussion “This is not excellent! This can not stand! That little stain! I knew, I should have hit him over the head with my axe, not just with a common guitar, when I had the chance!”


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    “I agree, sabotaging a concert is not excellent” Theodor added


    “Making Greenskins fight each other isn''t excellent either," Sandra said


    “Ruined an awesome concert. We should hit him over the head. I will bring my drumsticks" Adeltraut commented helpfully. She was an ogre, only she could call huge clubs drumsticks. Prof shuddered at the thought, what would happen, if she hit someone over the head with them?


    “This is just another example of the self-entitled so-called elite stepping on their impoverished, downtrodden subjects, all under the veneer of equality and justice." Wolfgang shifted his priceless magical relic of an axe and smoothed out his high-quality, extremely valuable clothes. He was right, though. Both the band and the party were unimaginably impoverished after paying for rent, beer, carpenters, shirts, and mugs. All of their cash was gone! Only jewelry and gems, worth a few million in Earth currency remained! They were so downtrodden, they couldn''t even bribe the minion of the evil overlord of music to look the other way! If not for a mysterious and completely never seen before Kobold, they would be breaking stones in a mine already!


    “I think, it’s time to be a szent.” Bianca approached from the back.


    “A szent? What does that mean?”


    “You know, disappear in the middle of a battle, and surface years later at a place very far from your previous brigadier?"


    “Yes, let’s do that.”


    “But, but, but… I wanted to participate in the party! It looks like so much fun!”


    “Ah, Mini, but how would we be able to escape without you protecting us? A powerful Vampire like you would sweep any danger aside just by their courageous presence!"


    “Prof, you do know, that I’m not stupid, right? Put some points into your [Convincing] and [Flattery] and try again later.”


    “[Flattery] isn’t a Skill.”


    “Sure it is. Just like [Romance], [Hysterical Tantrum], and [Whining]. You are actually quite good in the latter."


    “No, I''m not! What System would include such Skills, to begin with?! That would be totally unfair and ridiculous! Anyways, someone would have told me already, if those Skills existed and I was whiner! Hey, Bianca! Are you all right? Are you choking?"


    “Brhhhh...haha... No, I’m all right. So, let’s move out.”


    The short interaction was good for one thing, though: Mini forgot, she wanted to enter the melee in front of the stage and was willing to accompany the others back to Saugarten. Prof thought for a few seconds about checking his Character Parchment, just to prove, Mini was wrong, and no such ridiculous Skills as [Whining] existed. There were a basically endless number of Skills, and everyone had every last one, but he was sure, the mentioned ones did not exist.


    Almost sure.


    He resisted checking in the end. Some things should never be known.


    They weren’t the only ones on the road back to the city. Hundreds were streaming back, and Prof was satisfied to note, quite a few were wearing the band shirt. Others were loudly singing one song or the other. Unfortunately, most did not have any Points in [Art: Singing], and even those who had, were… mildly poisoned by fermented greenery. Of course, no two people tried to sing the same song, and the lyrics were off too. The performance was slightly disturbing to the ears.


    At least they were singing. That meant, they enjoyed the concert and liked the new kind of music. That was Wolfgang’s aim after all. With that, Prof completed his legendary (and largely imaginary) quest. It was time for the next Level Up!


    Every minute now.


    The red exclamation mark failed to appear, however.


    What did appear, were two bands of musicians on the side of the road, one playing Clay, the other Mythrill. Neither was very good, but they made up for the lack of talent (and Skill) with an overabundance of enthusiasm and a lot of shouting.


    “Your music isn’t excellent! Only Clay is excellent!”


    “Clay is for Elves! Go, hug a tree, Treesqueezer!”


    “Hah! Your papa was a Gremlin!”


    “Mythrill is disgusting! Un-excellent trash!”


    “No one is listening to Clay, it’s over, you bald idiot!”


    “You are bald! I’ll stomp you!”


    Why would two specimens of a chronically bald species call each other bald and be offended? Were they compensating for something? At least Prof understood the insult with the Elves. They were regarded as decadent, soft, self-centered, perverted, and snobbish twats by the Greenskins. From his time in the Domain, Prof could agree with most stereotypes, but not with Elves being soft. Despite running around naked all the time and fleecing outsiders, they were anything but soft. More like hard as steel and tense as an overstrung spring, always ready to snap and kick some teeth.


    The two bands exchanged a few other insults and finally decided to settle the argument in the most excellent way possible: hitting each other over the head with their instruments. Prof figured the band left standing was the most excellent with their instruments. A way to decide, which music was better.


    By the time the intense discussion disappeared behind a bend in the road, it looked like the mythrill-guys were winning.


    They were almost at the city limits – Greenskin towns didn''t have walls for some strange reason – when they noticed a Hobgoblin running their way. When he came closer, Prof recognized him as one of the bodyguards of the mages. How he got back to the city this fast, Prof did not know.


    “Honoured Redcap! Honored Redcap! Honored Band! Honored Stage Manager! You have to flee!"


    “WHAT?!?”