[ WP ] Magic is discovered and it 's channeled with music . Modern nations dissolve and new countries rise in their place divided by the preferred music . In the frozen north lie the Metal kingdoms . Far to the south are the countries of Soul etc .

Her dreams began, like many dreams began in those days, with hearing a song. 
 
 Allison McLaughlin was on her way with her parents to the Tennessee Valley Fair when she encountered an old man with a battered electric guitar and 10 watt amplifier, ringing out harsh bar chords and screaming some sort of strange mystical words about the working man and harsh ways of live in the country. The very sound of each note felt as if it was like a presence had encapsulated her to remain there. After the man finished his performance, he slung the guitar against his back and relaxed himself for a moment. Allison walked closer to the man, reaching into her pocket to find a couple paper bills to hand to him. 
 
 `` That was incredible,'' Allison began with amazement. `` Where did you learn that?'' 
 
 The older man peered at her with curiosity. Allison felt as if the gave in his pale blue eyes was scanning right through her. 
 
 `` It's an old riff passed down for generations. It's simply feeling it for yourself.'' He explained esoterically, lifting the guitar off of his shoulders. Allison leaned forward. 
 
 The old man handed her the guitar. `` You can try it out if you'd like.'' 
 
 As Allison held the guitar she felt something manifesting inside her. She could feel the sound of the instrument flowing through her. It was n't a simple instrument to make music, there was an even greater power from within it. 
 
 Teaching her a chord progression of C-F-G, the old man began to yell some lyrics madly. When the song ended, Allison returned the guitar to the man, who put it into the hard case beside him. 
 
 `` Music,'' he said solemnly. `` Sounds to soothe the soul with. Your playing really knows how to heal a person's spirits.'' 
 
 He shook her hand and left her a business card. `` Lessman's Lessons, Memphis'' was the name printed on card. She thanked him. 
 
 `` If you ever want to learn to play, come here. I will teach you myself.'' Lessman grabbed his case and began to walk down the street. 
 
 During the valley fair, Allison could not take her mind off the old man and the guitar. Despite the musicians playing at the festival, none of them touched her the way the old man's playing did. It was something completely different. She looked at the card given to her. She had to take guitar lessons in Memphis. 
 
 After the festival had ended, the days had passed, and Allison booked a bus to Memphis. She walked around town seeking out the music store listed on the address. It was nowhere to be found. She checked her phone, and the maps did not show any location with the address. She asked people passing by on the street, many whom have never heard of such an establishment and assumed she was trying to be funny. 
 
 The afternoon was setting, and Allison sat on the ground in a nearby park. There was no hope after all. A busker was playing a rendition of Tom Waits on a standup bass in the park, despite there being nobody around. As he finished the rendition, his eyes had met Allison's and he approached her. 
 
 `` The clouds look like they are gathering. A storm's coming. Are you all right?'' Asked the busker. 
 
 `` I came here looking for a musician, but I ca n't seem to find him.'' Allison replied somberly. 
 
 `` Memphis is the birthplace of Rock n Roll. There are many musicians.'' Explained the busker. He outstretched his hand. `` My name is Taylor.'' 
 
 `` Allison,'' Allison responded, shaking Taylor's hand. `` His name is Lessman. He's a blues musician.'' 
 
 Taylor stopped and returned his hand. He stared directly at Allison. 
 
 `` Lessman is brilliant! I will take you to him!'' Exclaimed Taylor with glee. Allison, figuring that there is no better alternative, began to walk along with Taylor and his hefty standup bass across the streets of Memphis until the reached a small shack between crowded buildings nearby the music hall of fame building. The shack was barely the size of a small cabin and probably would go completely unnoticed from the outside. 
 
 Approaching the door, Taylor tapped a cadence against the handle. A young man with dreadlocks and sunglasses answered the door. 
 
 `` Good evening Taylor, and...'' the doorman paused. `` Who might you be, miss?'' 
 
 `` Her name is Allison. She is Lessman's upcoming protege.'' Explained Taylor. The doorman nodded and led them inside. 
 
 Inside was the appearance of an old speakeasy nightclub during the middle 20th century. There was a long bar, and a dance floor with a grand piano as its center piece on a stage in the distance. The entire room must have been five times the size of the cabin outside, and the tables were filled with all sorts of people discussing in low hums amongst themselves. On a sign by the door it read `` Howard Lessman's Open Mic.'' 
 
 `` Lessman will be here shortly,'' said the doorman. `` Feel free to find a seat and make yourselves at home.'' 
 
 Taylor took over an empty table in the corner of the room and Allison followed. With barely enough time to order drinks, the lights began to dim and the stage lit up. Lessman arrived on the stage. 
 
 `` Welcome all of you,'' began Lessman. `` The open mic is a chance for us all to show our skills and learnings to the musician community of America. As you know, times are changing around us, and the age of traditional instruments is slowly fading for electronic beats and rhythms, but there is still a sense of need for this energy. We are gathered to preserve this arcane art. Please enjoy, and if you have an instrument, perform.'' 
 
 The audience cheered and the night began. One after another, musicians came onto the stage and performed pieces. There was a supernatural experience to a lot of them, and each instrument and style brought another form of magic to the entire experience. Finally when the last note played, many shuffled out. Lessman caught Allison and Taylor. 
 
 `` Allison!'' he exclaimed. `` Good to see you!'' 
 
 Allison clapped her hands. `` That was awesome!'' she said enthusiastically. `` When are you doing another one?'' 
 
 `` This was the last open mic for a while.'' Lessman declared. `` Tomorrow I am leaving town.'' 
 
 Allison looked down. Her entire trip was pointless after all. 
 
 `` However,'' Lessman continued. `` I was hoping you would like to join me.'' 
 
 `` Join you?'' Questioned Allison. `` I ca n't even play anything.'' 
 
 `` Not yet, but you will.'' Explained Lessman. `` You are born with magical blood. Music is a key to your soul. Allow me to introduce myself: I am Howard Lessman, a wizard of The Note. A society of sorcerers who are able to use music to create the aural healing sensations of magic and non magic folk. But our people are dying out. Soon enough music will be nothing more than a production made in a bedroom.'' 
 
 Lessman continued on behalf of the puzzled looks of Taylor and Allison. 
 
 `` I would like you to accompany me on my tour to Portland. They say that Portland is the center of a musician's magical power, and it is the only place where there is a chance to save our music from the growing trend of electronic beats. After seeing how you handled my guitar the other night in Knoxville, I know there could not be any one better than you. I have a tour across the country, you will be able to learn quick enough, but I am leaving tomorrow.'' 
 
 Allison looked down. 
 
 `` I ca n't.'' She said defeated. `` I have a home, and family in Knoxville. I ca n't just leave.'' 
 
 Lessman shook his head. 
 
 `` That can be arranged. I have already sent a letter to your folks. As far as they know, you have gained a scholarship from a summer band camp. Now-'' 
 
 He began to close down the hall and collect his guitar case. 
 
 `` Let's go now, St Louis is waiting for us.'' 
 
 Allison hesitated for a moment, Taylor butted in. 
 
 `` You're both leaving?'' 
 
 Lessman looked to Taylor. 
 
 `` You're coming with us as well. Busking during the day will be the best way to get bus fare.'' 
 
 `` Bus fare?'' Asked Allison. `` You do n't have a van?'' 
 
 `` The wages of musicians have never been kind, even in the golden days decades ago.'' Replied Lessman. 
 
 Taylor shrugged and accepted. He looked at Allison, who had also reluctantly decided to join along. Before the night was over, the three were headed on a bus to St Louis, which seemed nothing more to them than just another musical world away from their own.
