Alav Kennars
The Taleweaver tapped his chin again as if preparing to close the night when the man entered. Casio paused his idle movement only a moment as the human moved toward the bar, oblivious to the assembled crowd. Casio could not help but be distracted by the newcomer to the scene, as everything about the individual defied you to ignore him. The wide brimmed red hat that swept back just so on his head held a feather with shades of royal purple so bold it glowed of its own accord. His strong form was well accented by the deep red leathers he wore, making excellent use of the stranger's broad shoulders to taper to his proportioned waist. The image was one of practiced control made to appear haphazard but Casio knew better. This was a special member of the Taleweaver's profession. Everything about him and his movements told the Taleweaver that this was one to watch, or perhaps watch out for in the future.
“The poem is called an Audience of One”
Softly it flows around her
flaxen hair does frame the face
Yet in the eyes dark pain dwells
her mind seems a haunted place
Still in her smile a gentle glow
as my stories caress her ear
Thoughts within seem too bold
thinking simple tales take the fear
Alas she moves away
from the hand I must extend
So much I wish to hold her
and hope to help her mend
More than just my words
go out to her as I spin
Epics that weave about us
spoken more softly drawing her in
Only in time will I know
the story she does possess
And then perhaps one day
true feelings to confess
The tavern had grown quiet during the reading and Casio reflected as he always did after he read a verse. They were a prayer shared with all whose ears they touched. Some scattered throughout the gathering were moved as they always were and a tear fell from an eye here or there but no one spoke for several moments. A movement at the bar where the newcomer still stood drew Casio's vision. The intruding troubadour had now turned. The chiseled features looked slightly amused as the encroaching bard clapped lightly breaking the silence. The human's first words would establish a long lasting relationship between the two bards that, at the time, neither could imagine. “Well that was, hmm, words escape me... but wait I know... depressing.”
The look with which Bearis favored the troubadour would have withered a lesser man but as the Taleweaver would soon learn, this was no lesser man. Casio felt the man's presence and even now had to admit a begrudging respect for him. “May I know the name of the person who has found my work unsatisfactory?”
He showed only mild amusement when responding. “Of course you may. I would not have you be the only one in the room unfamiliar with me. I am Alav Kennars,and as no doubt you have already surmised, a fellow troubadour. It is however unlikely that you travel the same venues as I do. The audiences that are graced with my presence require a certain amount of talent.”
Casio's brow furrowed in a reflexive reaction to the blatant insult more than he would have liked. A downward turn of the lips was erased before any could note it, as a sly grin graced the bard's subtle features. If this individual wanted to spar then so be it, he would know the sharp edge of the Taleweaver's tongue. “It would seem there is no warmth for you here and Bearis, you will forgive my saying, but it would seem someone so obviously enamored with them self would be better suited to the grand halls of this land's capitol rather than a crossroads village. Dancing for the queen perhaps?”
The answer came from a surprising source as a low tremor of laughter boiled through the locals still remaining in the tavern. “This is a perceptive one, don't you think Alav? Or maybe that story has spread to other lands. Why don't you tell the newcomer why they won't let you into Dasar anymore. He seems to have guessed it anyway and I never tire of that tale.” Bearis laughed as he finished speaking.
It was Alav's turn to blanch at the hint of a sorted remark implied. Casio stored that information away as something he and Bearis must definitely discuss when the opportunity arouse. Bearis was enjoying his part in the dressing of the arrogant invader and decided to press on. “Well, what are you doing in here anyway Alav. Did the other pub run out of rum or has everyone passed out early?” There was some table slapping from the audience at that remark and Bearis appeared rather proud of it himself.
“The Salted Rim is, as always, well stocked this evening with visitors who embrace their love of drink more fully. I decided to stop in of my own accord tonight to take a chance at seeing how the common folk were doing. You know full well that my songs and tales are presented for all to enjoy and it would seem a pity to leave out the lower classes no less deserving of their entertainment, despite their station.” He dismissively waved toward the farmers and laborers that remained and continued. “ It is a pity that so many misguided heroes were forced to listen to this, hhmm soft whisper in the guise of a bard, but thankfully I have arrived before they could be bored into unconsciousness. The verse there at what I hope was the end of his tales indicated that I had arrived just in time. ” His mention of heroes did bring the attention of the adventurers more fully to bear on the pair. The two bards now had the tavern's full attention.
The serving girls had stopped moving, dutifully staying out of sight while peeking over the shoulders of others where space allowed. No one would be leaving any time soon it seemed. The repartee had just begun with the combatants sizing each other up as gentlemen in a duel. The travelers and locals alike each shifted on their chairs preparing to watch the next subtle, or as was rapidly becoming, not so subtle strike. Bearis had even put down his cleaning rag and seemed entranced by what was proving to be a very interesting meeting. The juxtaposition between the two very different individuals was easy to see. Alav, fresh from his performing at the Salted Rim, still wore the ornate long sword that was his personal weapon and by no means simply for show. Educated eyes of the group, familiar in the art of swordplay, readily identified the scabbard which held the weapon. Casio had seen the type in use many times and knew that it would release its burden quickly when called upon. The fact that Alav's hand idly fingered the jeweled scabbard did not escape the Taleweaver's attention and he was quite sure that was what the facing troubadour intended. There was no wasted movement in this one as even his relaxed stance served to demonstrate his control of the entire situation. The next move was Alav's and the Troubadour made the drawing maneuver well.
“You know who I am now. Still I am sure few if any of us know who you are.” He gestured to the crowd enjoying the titter of laughter before continuing. “Please do share your title with us. I am sure your elvish name is long and virtually unpronounceable in common but then aren't they all.” A knowing look about the room brought some hearty laughter in response and Alav smiled.
The Taleweaver responded directly and with just a hint of ire. Alav was proving to be a most noteworthy challenge and to step lightly forward seemed his best defense. “My chosen name is Casio Philipe. You are correct to assume that my elven name would be too difficult for your limited human tongue.” The bard realized his mistake just a moment too late as Alav's smile sharpened into a wolfish grin.
“You can't be serious. You are serious. How did you ever come to take that as a stage name? No wait let me guess, it came to you in a dream. Embarking on your new chosen course you lay down in the flowered grove near the edge of your wooded home. Sweet dreams of the fairies with which you frolicked as a youth danced in your elven head. You awoke that glorious morning with the sunlight drying the dew from your body ready to seek adventure wherever your travels took you. The first thought in your mind was the name by which you would be known and that was your choice? I would suggest a more appropriate alias to be used in the future. Perhaps Daisy.” The crowd was overcome with the Troubadour's last remark and this time the laughter and table slapping shook the tavern walls. It appeared that Alav had won the round but Casio would not let the blatant attack go unanswered. He allowed the Troubadour to relish the moment until the crowd had quieted.
The expectant audience turned toward the Taleweaver eagerly anticipating his reply. Casio's impish grin assured them that he would not disappoint and even Alav seemed momentarily interested on what tack the wounded party would take. “Daisy? Yes, I could see your thought with that suggestion having such limited exposure to my performance this eve. The flower represents the radiance of the sun with its slight form surrounded by rays extending as if to touch all those near its center. An innocence and purity found only in children more often than not.” Alav raised an eyebrow at the response. He had been hoping for a much more direct reaction and almost seemed disappointed that he had not gotten one. He was not disappointed for long as the Taleweaver continued. “Your name is a fine one but I think too limited to convey your full presence. I would suggest perhaps an addition to your name that would announce your character more completely to those unfamiliar with you. I think the locals who tend the fields would agree that perhaps the title of Alav the Mule's Ass would be appropriate. Do you think it is too wordy?” The onlookers were not disappointed with this response. There was a universal nodding of heads in agreement among the members of the farm community who were familiar with not only Alav but the aforementioned rear end. Alav responded in the only manner a bard could under the circumstances.
“Touche,” He only hinted at a bow to acknowledge the strike had been well placed. “It would seem we are at a draw my fellow bard. I must admit it is not often that I have found such a worthy opponent and certainly never here. I give you back your commoners and farm folk and extend an invitation to you as well. Come and join me some eve at the Salted Rim and let me show you the true meaning of our shared craft. I believe you will find the change of scenery refreshing and the audience a bit more of a challenge. Enlightenment is for priests, Casio, we are meant to entertain.”
Casio returned the slight bow before answering. “I too see you as a worthy troubadour and gladly acknowledge your talents. You choose your words well and their impact should not be underestimated. I will have to take you up on the invitation soon so long as you buy the first round once I have entertained them. Entertainment and enlightenment are good traveling companions and one need not stand without the other.”
Alav curtly waved and departed with the same manner he had entered. Casio had met many performers in the course of his travels but never the likes of this one. He anticipated the trip to the Salted Rim would be an interesting and enlightening one from which many new stories and verse might come. The Taleweaver could not have known just then how right he would be.

