Gypsy Bard Novels & Stories

There are also a group of healers from the temple; they are noticeable from their clothing. I guess I'll take something to fill me up. I move to the counter, the bartender is a tall, handsome man, who is currently mixing drinks. A woman comes out from the kitchen and begin talking with the bartender; it appears that they lack some ingredients, and there is no errand boy. I strike a conversation with the woman, and she introduces herself as Reisha the owner of this tavern. She is a lovely independent woman. I already like her. Delicious smells are wafting from the kitchen, and my stomach growls. I'll take THE GREAT WIZARD today's speciality, when you have a lot of gold in your purse's bag, th

A Gypsy Past He was born into a gypsy fortunetelling commune that traveled from town to town, state to state. Their origins were from a Romani family in Eastern Europe, specifically Hungarian, who migrated to the Mother Country at the turn of the century. The mother had taken over the father's role as the head of the family. She was smart and strong-willed and looked out for the family's welfare in their crucial first few years as immigrants. The father was a deadbeat that spend his days in the local watering hole wasting what little money they accumulated by getting drunk. This familial quirk became a pattern and passed on from generation to generation until the paternal aspect became super

Gypsy “You don’t look like someone who is involved with a biker.” The woman wiping the dust from shelves behind my bar paused, throwing a glance over her shoulder. I expected her to look angry, but the smile she had on her face was dazzling. “Don’t I, sweetheart? What did you expect us to look like?”

This night has been an experiment for me to taste my tongue on new alcoholic drinks and something that was foreign to my taste buds as I was trying the local bar and their signature drinks. It was absolutely mental and I am having the best time of my life. “What a wonderful night to get wasted!” I shouted in Hungarian and everyone was following me. The music was blaring the shit out of the local bar and I was dancing on the dance floor as I was sipping on the drinks that were given to me by the men that were surrounding me. “You are so beautiful,” one of them complimented me as they were grinding themselves on me. Which I don’t mind when I was half drunk and I could get used some of the atte

He laughed, tossing a chestnut into the fire where it popped and crackled merrily. Apollo had been quiet since they’d entered the room, his lyre resting across his lap as he watched the fire dance and listened to his companions speak. Now he looked up, his golden eyes reflecting the flames as he began to play a soft, wandering melody – one he’d composed earlier that day while working in the garden. “The bard downstairs plays well enough,” he said thoughtfully, his fingers moving across the strings with effortless grace. “But he doesn’t understand the heart of the stories he tells. He sings of battles and glory, but not of the quiet moments between – the days spent planting and harvesting, th

I look up and he stops in front of our table. “Mr O’Rourke said to prove who you are. We have had many people come here recently saying they are Cassandria Bristol-Romano. So a demonstration, if you will. He said you would know what that means.” He says and I smile. I look at Ivan. Igor and Tati and they are ready to jump up and cause a good old fashioned Irish bar brawl. I raise my hand and they stay seated. “Gladly,” I stand and drain my pint. I wink at Tati. Before I turn and walk towards the band. I ask them to play a certain song. Tam Lin known as Glasgow Reel.

"You want a horse, am I right?" "Yes." "Then I am taking you to get a horse." They continued walking on a straight path and then took a right turn. "What is your name?" Gypsy asked. "Ruby." "Ruby." Gypsy whispered after the princess. "What about your parents? Where are they?" She wondered what a girl not more than seven or eight was doing outside, leading a stranger at that time of the night. "My mother left us and my father became a drunk. Since then I either do little jobs for those in the market to get money or beg to eat."

With everyone settled, they all looked towards the redhead. "What now," Lucca asked nervously. Remy turned towards Esper, with a devilish grin, "How about this?" Remy gave the blushing vampire a wink as he began to pluck his guitar. Esper's blue and red hazel eyes sparkled as she instantly recognized the melody. She waited for him to repeat the intro before bringing the mic up towards her mouth, taking a deep breath before singing. "When a humble bard, graced a ride-along With Geralt of Rivia, along came this song".

“It’s easier to blackmail them. Spells take work, and no gypsy wants to work for a living. Just lie on their backs and suck the lives out of the men they fuck.” Bohdan stood up and asked, “I can handle a gypsy, they should be worried about me.” “Good luck,” the dancer said. “You’ll regret it when you’re done.” At the top of the stairs Bohdan knocked on the door. He didn’t know who to expect when the door opened, but wasn’t surprised when the door opened and met a women dressed in elaborate colors and jewelry. She was exactly what a gypsy would look like in his mind. “You need a girl?” the madam asked. She had a Romanian accent and dark piercing eyes.

“I am ready” The door opened wide and we stepped outside the house where all the gypsies were gathered around dressed in their ceremony clothes. All of them started shrieking and clapping as we passed. It was how the gypsies chased away the bad spirits so the bride could have a happy and prosperous life. The cold air caressed my face and I shivered, tightening my grip on the fur cape. The musicians took my appearance as a sign and as they started walking in front of us, they played one of my favorite songs. Though it was in romany language I could see everyone enjoying the song.