Come join the path of glory.

Ergot sighed so heavily. He kept making mistakes. He kept falling over, twisting, turning directions, popping his eyes out at roots for no reason. Something wasn't correct in the Universe, and it disturbed the voices. The voices, ah, yes, they were there among the trees. They bid him farewell, one by one. The disturbed voices wouldn't be willing to go near the walls. They were going to abandon him.
Memories flashed through Ergot and made him spasm in pain. Ah, yes, we know this, don't we, the pain, remembering the ice and eyes. He then laughed at his horribly bad pun. Alas. Rhymes and puns, the life of a bard encouraged the daftness; it encouraged the mind, horribly deformed, scarred and white. No blood and warmth circul-
Finally he was alone. No voices were left, no demonic forces, no angels, no deities except for what lay ahead. Whatever the hell that was. Ergot sprung and spun to the walls. Guards nearby. Staring at him. He wasn't a goblin, no no. He was just cold, bitter, and a bard. Looking to sing a tune. Or two.
They believed the stuttered story the he told them. No names questioned. These guards were not in the mood to listen to any more muttering and 3rd person accounts, told in a raspy, squeaked voice. Just another mood, though. Of course.
"Are you here for the ball?"
"Ball? Party? Masquerade? Marmalade... yes, of course. Balls, a bard needs to be at the ball and make the lovelies swoon. They do swoon, right? Just up… Fall over, kabam, slam into the floor.”
The guards laughed. Oh, god, did they laugh. That one laugh that says “You scare me, but you’re a joke to me.” Ergot then muttered, tried starting a sentence... Then stopped.
Stuttering wasn't a sign of nervous tendencies, it was merely the cold. Wet, cold, no moonlight. Black, pitch black, in all senses of the word. Warping the mind, and the voices... No company, they broke the chains and ran away. They were locked in his dungeon, why abandon... Oh, right. The walls. They didn't like something; Ergot was going to be at a ball! Who cares, there'd be some voices there to cheer him on. With liquor and lovelies being frightened and ale, oh gods, yes, the ale and the food. And the lovelies.
He hopped from the guards, cracked his neck to the right, his back to the left. Which made it look as though he was a zig zag. And Ergot then headed for the gates.