Music in his Soul

[Caranel]

It was a bright noonday when Caranel found himself approaching the city gates. The sun shone down merrily all around and on a man swathed in a dizzying array of colors and hues. A bright yellow shirt, dark blue doublet, red pants, startlingly bright green gloves, to any passerby it would seem as if this man's wardrobe had attacked him, and he not even taking a care to it. His cloak alone was like a rainbow; patches of every imaginable color covered it, and when it swirled about his heels with his jaunty step, it seemed to flutter like a jubilant songbird.

On a whim, he pulled his lute into his hands, plucked a string, tightened up one or two more, then began a slow thoughtful tune that continued until he was standing there at the gates. The song continued as he studied two scraps of paper posted at the unguarded threshhold, and he even hummed under his breath,

In the sight of recent events
The ruler decided a last resort,
To have religion of all sorts banned,
Lord Megilaf claims it's high import...

"Hmph." said Caranel to himself. "Well, unless this Megilaf suddenly decides to outlaw Music, unlikely, I should do quite well here." He stopped strumming the lute and scratched his chin as he studied the second post. His eyebrows raised alarmedly, then an immense grin split his face, showing his immaculately white teeth. "A Paladin, eh? I would love to meet this fellow, especially if he's considered a traitor... sounds like a good plot to me."

At this he dropped into a dramatic pose, one hand held high, the other clasped to his chest. "The noble Paladin, wronged, betrayed, his semblance carted all about the lands as a traitor, and his incredible attempts to regain his lost honor and once more champion the cause of the Light... yes, that would do nicely." Glancing about first to make sure he really could enter at his whim, Caranel strode through the gates, still humming to himself merrily.

[Creil Bevier]

Creil stood in full armour by the city gates, flanked by another two huge men encased in bright steel, though he still towered above the pair. He was a man of immense proportions, he stood head and shoulders above most men, and was built somewhat akin to one side of a cliff face. His steel clad arms were like tree trunks, and he carried a massive broadsword across his back, as well as a morning star and war axe at his waist.
The other two steel clad men were armed in a similar fashion, and built almost as big. A lifetime of carrying about all that steel tends to do that to people. All three bore the mark of the holy order upon their helms, and their visors were raised, showing their features.
Creil had long blond hair that was kept back under his helmet and dazzling blue eyes. He had several days growth of beard, and his eyes had the look of a man who has been sleeping little about them.
He and his brothers led their horses about the gates, inspecting them, deciding wether or not they were defensible, and what improvements needed to be made. So far, it was not looking too good.
They were busy inspecting the hinges of one of the massive iron bound gates when a dramatic voice lifted the air about them, "The noble Paladin, wronged, betrayed, his semblance carted all about the lands as a traitor, and his incredible attempts to regain his lost honor and once more champion the cause of the Light..."
Creil laughed and turned to face the jovial fellow who had just entered the city, He smiled and raised his voice in greeting, "Hail, good sir!"

[Caranel]

With a whirl of color, patches fluttering every which way, Caranel spun to face his greeter. It was a force of will not to let his jaw drop at the three gathered in front of him. He considered himself tall, yet this man was a mountain of steel and sinew.

'Maybe music really is outlawed here...' was his first thought, that the city guard had come to clap him in irons and drag him to the jail for his melodies, but then he spied the symbol etched onto the helmets of the three and almost visibly deflated. 'That's the mark of the Holy Order or i'm a stuffed goose.' He adopted a relaxed stance, smile still prominent on his face.

"Greetings!" he said, happy that the armored behemoth in front of him seemed friendly. "My name is Caranel Hapnian, Traveling Bard and Impresario Extraordinaire!" he gave a bow that nearly brought his head to lay on the dusty road, his cloak flapping about him with practiced flourish. He straightened just as quickly, once again meeting the gaze of the mounted mountain.

"I'm glad to see a few of the Order around these parts." he said deliberately, clasping his hands behind his back and purposefully looking at the two sheets of paper on the gates. "Though it doesn't seem as if you're very welcome here." A mournful expression took his face, though inside he was bubbling with excitement that was eager to get out. "Perhaps you know of this Creil that the Ruler has outlawed? I would so like to meet him. He seems like a storybook in the making."

[Creil Bevier]

Creil laughed out loud, overcome with glee. This man was proving to be most entertaining, and that was rare in this city. He turned and said something under his breath to the two knights with him, and they took the reins of his horse and continued their inspection of the gate, paying no attention whatsoever to the signs.
At that, Creil strode over the the brightly garbed minstrel, offering his steel clad hand in greeting, "Thou art fortunate sir, depending upon thy opinion, of course. He is I, Sir Creil Bevier, at thy service."
He absently glanced about the empty seeming street, "Welcome or not, mine brothers and I will continue our work here, and i am glad that thou art not opposed to mine presence thyself." He beamed

[Caranel]

'Old Tongue, eh? Good for some stories, but i've not heard it in conversation for years.' he thought, impressed with this Paladin. If there was a reason that this man was branded a traitor, it was either a farce or misled. That, or this man was the most excellent liar that Caranel had ever met. Though he doubted that. The genuine mirth on his face alone told of his sincerity and truthfulness.

"Well, sir, as a self proclaimed Bard it is my duty to catalogue all I see around me, and rest assured, this whole ordeal will be recorded with utmost accuracy." Depending on how things turned out, this would make a most excellent story to tell, and if he had anything to do with it, things would turn out well. "I will be making my way to the Tavern, noble Paladin, where I hope to find some work. I wish you well in your endeavours here, and I truly hope we meet again."

He bowed once more, though this time not so deep, flourishing his cloak with the same aplomb, then straightened up. "And make no mistake, we shall meet again." he intoned, with a glimmer in his eye. Laughing out loud, he spun on a heel and walked past the rusted out gates and into the city proper. Though the Bard inside him wished he could follow the Paladin's every footstep, he knew that it would be futile if he died of starvation in the process. Perhaps once he had some cash in his pockets, then he could seek out Creil again, if Creil did not find his way to him, first.

[Creil Bevier]

Creil watched the bard turn to leave, and placed a restraining hand gently on his shoulder, "Then take this, my son, and may god go with thee." He said, as he withdrew a handfull of gold, silver and copper coins, placing them in Carnel's pocket. He smiled warmly, then turned to go back to his brothers who were continuing their inspection of the gate.

[Caranel]

His eyes lifted at the man's words, in slight disbelief until the familiar chink of coin on coin reached his ears. One of his many pockets was suddenly weighed down with an astounding weight in cash, and he only turned his head to watch the Paladin go. A blessing from a saint, no, more than a blessing. That man has something more than just that.

'This is going to make quite a story.' he thought to himself, striding dutifully toward the Town Square.