If one could give music to any moment of their life, and have it themed to the scenario that they were in? What would yours be reader? What would Oliver's be right now? Pretty sure you're more interested in that?
Well Oliver's music would be the eerie and quick paced violin that would be heard in a suspense movie during the big chase scene. He wasn't being chased down by some Lovecraftian monster that met with a King of Koontz plot line. No he was being hunted by something far more rabid and thirsty to complete its task. A group of mercenaries that were promised pay on delivery of their package!
What was the package? Well isn't it obvious at this point? Our taupe blonde haired protagonist of his own story was being mercilessly hunted down and things were being tossed about in the street as he scrambled and struggled to keep his footing as the men sought to nab him and cart him off elsewhere.
Let's rewind about ten minutes though first shall we? Before the damages of the area were going to outweigh the paycheck of the mercs. It's a fine and sunny day, the birds are chirping, the tension of war remains on edge, the clouds are shaped like different things depending on the imagination of the viewer. Oliver was busy working on some notes and drawings of people that he observed inf ront of him in the little tavern he had stopped off at during his travels. It was a rough sketch without any facial features save for stock drawing skills for the generic background filler. No one really was piquing his interest. But a trio of burly gentlemen wearing head garbs befitting those of Heliohapt who looked at a paper, then Oliver, then at the paper again had their interest piqued by him.
They had approached, the wood floor creaking beneath them so Oliver looked up while they approached, and promptly slammed a hand down on the table, covering the wanted poster picture. "Looking for someone?" Normally he would be far more cautious, but all of the people he had met over his stay in Kou resulted in Oliver being a bit more laid back about meeting new people.
"We want you to come with us, and no is not an answer." They lifted their cloaks, revealing rather intimidating looking scimitars. Oliver just looked at them with a blank stare. Welp, it seemed that now was going to be one of those times to just scooch his chair on backwards slowly, not making any sudden moves before he stood up, cast the chair backwards to clatter against the ground and vault over the table, and do a quick handspring off of the middle merc's body. Oliver spun and landed with one leg bent and near his chest, the other sticking far out and a hand on the ground to keep his balance. Everyone was looking at him, but he quickly bolted out of the door, the mercs drew out their weapons and enchanted rope after to chase the poor writer.
He knew exactly why they were here, he thought. On the table, where they had left it, was a wanted poster for the live capture of himself and to be delivered to Magnostadt. Bugger, is all he thought while weaving through crowds and working to gently bump carts to knock them into rolling toward the men who chased him as they ran uphill and the carts downhill.
This and a few choice acrobatics of a chase with some minutes later and more of the mercs joining int he chase, Oliver found himself looking for, and ducking into some of the oddest shops, only to leap out of a window and onto another street while the mercenaries looked for him a block and a half over.
He dusted himself off and sighed, this was another town he would have to avoid for now. Now all he needed to do was get back to the tavern, get his weapons and possessions, and get the hell out of here. Maybe he could stumble across a new or old friend along the way.