Jeremiah Kaine

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A crowded tavern is filled with the sounds of boasting, laughter, and the smells of too many people packed into too little space.

“Sing us a good one and I’ll buy you another round!”

The call is overheard by many and soon, the room quiets as all eyes turn to a road weary man sitting near the fire. A stringed instrument sits in his lap. Laughing, he waves dismissively with his free hand. He seems uncomfortable with the weight of so many eyes upon him.

“My talents are surely not worthy of such attention!”

Drunken demands from the throats of so many causes him to reconsider.

“Well, fine. I think I have just the song for you folks.”

Wiping foam from his mouth, he plucks a few chords and starts to sing.

:: Song of Jeremiah ::

Once there was a quiet town, none better you will find.
Sword and torch came one night, a young child left behind.
In ashes of his father’s work, thoughts of vengence bloomed.
Carrying lost bloody sword, a killer is surely doomed.

Let’s drink to Jeremiah and the gun that’s at his side.
As long as there are evil men, forever he will ride.
Fire and thunder fill the sky; behind him he leaves graves.
But also you’ll find many cheers, from mouths of those he saves.

He rode and sought for many years and learned his parent’s trade.
Their purpose was to build and grow, not like the thing he made.
He didn’t forget his parent’s wish, though his sight was blood red haze
Only those who hurt the weak, fell underneath his gaze.

Let’s drink to Jeremiah and the gun that’s at his side.
As long as there are evil men, forever he will ride.
Fire and thunder fill the sky; behind him he leaves graves.
But also you’ll find many cheers, from mouths of those he saves.

His name is often spoken, when will to fight is lost.
He always answers worthy call, no matter what the cost.
Whether man or god or demon, there’s one thing you can trust
If evil rules in your heart, he’ll leave you in the dust.

Let’s drink to Jeremiah and the gun that’s at his side.
As long as there are evil men, forever he will ride.
Fire and thunder fill the sky; behind him he leaves graves.
But also you’ll find many cheers, from mouths of those he saves.

Throughout the tale, one man stared into his drink rather than at the singer. With a grimace, he swallows the dregs from his cup and pushes away from the bar. Turning his back on the raucous calls for an encore, the man strides through the door into the night.

“If only that were true…”

Jeremiah Kaine

The Ravaging neosmitty