Sigil: City of Doors

The music had always been there; in his head, in his blood. A constant companion that accompanied his early triumphs, and failures. The sweeping anthem of a new experience. The staccato cadenza of a childhood fistfight. His memories were a symphony of such moments.

It was almost easy to let the music flow out through whatever instrument he picked up. It felt like channeling more than playing. Soon he discovered that the magic in his blood could travel through the music as well. Where all music might bring emotion, he found he could ignite a great passion in his listeners. While effective with the young women he fancied, it also could inspire some to almost foolish levels of bravado that he often exploited to stir up trouble between those who had affronted him.

He also found he could dim the senses of the unwary. This brought him to the attention of the elders of his tribe. His people, the Yuan-ti, had always lived in small bands on the outskirts of civilization. To them he was a useful commodity. He had already been allowed to travel to the human settlements to trade for whatever goods they might need. His natural charisma set them at ease and he had quickly mastered the skills needed to disguise his race. But his ability allowed him to make better deals with the humans; to let his people stay closer and longer without stirring any suspicion.

He had enjoyed the recognition it afforded him. Until the changes began and they cast him out.

HeÂ’d lost track of how many villages he had wandered through since heÂ’d been cast out. The memories of the human faces dulled by the repetition of performing for food and lodging; and dodging the inevitable questions, no matter how innocently posed.

The physical changes were still more or less easy to hide, though his penchant for wearing concealing clothing had elicited some odd looks. More regrettably, he had had to rebuff a number of overtures by young women with whom he would have otherwise been quite friendly with.

All of those feelings caught up to him while he was performing in one of the endless series of small taverns. The fear of exposure, the loneliness of not being able to confide what he was going through, the anger at his tribe for their banishment. He couldnÂ’t contain it as the emotions raged through him, igniting the magic in his blood, pouring into the music with tsunami force.

He lost track of how long he played, but when he finally looked up every eye was staring at him. Even after a long moment no one blinked. A drop of blood dripped from the nose of a man near the front. He packed his belongings quickly and left out rear entrance to the inn.