RP:A Hero's Song

Kelay Town Square

Kelay Town Square Krice ventured through Kelay from the west, passing familiar civilians, most of him recognized him on a more personal level; he had helped at least half of Kelay's residents with a variety of tasks, and thus had cemented his place in their memories. Moving now without particular intent, katana strapped to his back, the warrior greeted those who greeted him first, responding with a polite nod here and there.

Alvina stood in the square, watching the people come and go, playing a light tune when the mood struck her. She was poised against a half-built stone wall, heel pressed back to keep her balance as she trilled scales on her gleaming flute. A warrior with a striking gaze and silver hair caught her eye immediately; Silver drew her faster than anything. “Sir!” She cried out, “Would you care for a song?” The bard’s smile was warm and fresh, earnestly hopeful that he would acknowledge her presence.

Krice glanced in the direction of the bard when she addressed him, slowing to receive her offer. After only a moment of silence, during which he considered that offer, the warrior dipped his head in an acknowledging nod and turned toward Alvina fully. " Sure," he said, his tone seemingly nonchalant despite the acceptance of the woman's invitation to hear her music. Paused just outside her reach, but not in the way of any passersby, the face-scarred man pocketed his hands and waited for Alvina to begin playing a song, more attentive than he had been only moments ago.

Alvina sprung forward so both of her heels were firmly supporting her small frame in dust and dirt. Her lips pursed as he paused while she tried to fight the smile her lips wanted so much to unravel for the stranger. Instead, after a few moments of concentration, her flute sprung to life in her fingertips. From gleaming silver sprang an uplifting melody; composed simply but still pleasing to the ear. A few passing citizens stopped to drop cooper coins at her feet, though she really didn’t have a mind to earn coin. It was more about reaching out and touching someone, for just a moment’s time. When the flute fell silent, she would do a short bow and cock her head in Krice’s direction. “Do you favor the flute? The lute?” Her emerald eyes watching him with growing curiosity. Something drew her to pick him from the crowd, but what?

Krice must have enjoyed Alvina's musicianship because he stayed for the entirety of her song. Either that, or he was just being polite by not leaving before she was done. Whatever the case, the man glanced away from the entertainment as passersby expressed their gratitude with coin, which promoted him yo reach into the money pouch tied to the left side of his belt. When Alvina had completed her song, he extended a gold piece toward her with his left hand, opting not to toss it at her feet. " Either or," was his coolly spoken reply. " Whichever you enjoy most."

Alvina waves his coin away. “It’s not about money,” she informed him with a solid stance. “It’s about meeting new faces. If you want to pay me for my skill, grant me your name sir.” She tucked the flute away into her satchel, strapped across her chest and at her side before pulling the lute from her back and plucking at the strings to tune it quickly as he spoke.

Krice withdrew his gold-offering hand for a moment, ready to accept Alvina's decline of the payment - until she gave an ultimatum of sorts. Payment for a name. " Krice," he said before long, thereafter returning the gold coin to the space between them. " Take it," he politely insisted. " you've earned it, and I've no use for it, anyway."

Alvina eyed him carefully, taking his name and filing it away in the many compartments she reserved in her mind for such things. Her eyes widen with recognition. “It is a name I have heard before,” She says simply, taking the coin with ease and pressing it just as quickly into the palm of passing child as he grasps with one hand for his mother’s hip. “I’ve little need for it myself…but seeing as how you offered it, I couldn’t deny a chance to put it to good use.” The bard gave him a mischievous smile before strumming a chord on her lute. “And in such a good turn, I will grant you mine name as well. Alvina, the Silver Bard.” Before giving him a chance to rebuttal, her thin digits (both metallic and flesh) strum at the instrument in hand, this allows her the additional benefit of adding her voice to the fray of notes and tumbling melodies.

Krice was not surprised to hear that Alvina knew his name; after all, he was a man well-known in the Kelay-Sage region. He had helped many citizens with numerous tasks, had saved human and elf civilians from death at the hands of a drow hunting party, and other such tasks that had essentially put him on the map. He nodded for the Bard's recognition and was silent thereafter to enjoy her music, returning his now-empty hand to his pants pocket. Intermittently, the enigmatic warrior divided his attention between the performer and their surroundings, watching for signs of disturbance even as her music and song distracted him from such thoughts. It was ingrained in him, to be protective.

Alvina halted her strumming at the songs end, a few other street patrons throwing a huzzah or ignoring her completely. With her bardic work seemingly done for the moment, she tucks her instruments away and strikes a more comfortable stance before the warrior, who seems a bit torn between this moment and the next. “Your training is showing,” She jests, stepping closer to him, out of the ring of coppers left on the ground. A young girl with a dirt speckled face ran over to collect the bard’s tips and various amounts of dust in her apron before darting away with her stash. “Where are you bound, Master Warrior?” Ribbons of crimson sway against her cheeks as she moves, catching in the light breeze playing between the two.

Krice 's gaze inevitably swung toward Alvina when she mentioned his training, which he deduced must have been because of his watchfulness. He said nothing to accompany the pensive stare locked on the bard. That expression softened into a more casual neutrality by the time she spoke her query. " Just 'Krice'," he corrected, before nodding toward the east. " On my way out," he said, and for a moment, the man of few words was distracted by the little copper thief as she ran away with her bounty in hand. Or skirt, as it were. he didn't judge the young girl who clearly needed it. Glancing back at Alvina, Krice nodded to indicate her instrument and offered praise for her performance. " You know your craft well."

Alvina blushes a bright shade of pink and tried to turn the conversation away from herself, even though it was clear Krice did not have much to say of his own accord either. “It’s the only thing I can ever remember loving, almost as much as I love being around children…or new faces.” She beams a little, trying not to sound overly cheesy with the gesture as the girl runs off with the coppers. It was rare for the bard to take money on the street. Only if she indeed knew someone else who had use for it. “My thanks, for your time, Just Krice.” She says, tipping her crimson crown towards Krice in thanks. “I’ve almost finished a small ballad in your honor, for the way folks talk around here; you are a rather upstanding gentleman. A defender of elves, and the like. You probably knew it would only be a matter of time before they started crafting songs about you.” She giggled, covering her mouth with her metallic prosthetic, before reaching out to possibly shake his hand. “Will you do me the honor of being the first to hear it?”

Krice nodded again, allowing Alvina the small joy associated with naming him 'Just Krice'. It was preferable to 'Master' or 'Sir'. In light of her revelation that she was writing a song on behalf of his achievements, the silver-haired enigma arched a brow and lifted his left hand, attempting to dissuade the bard from playing the song. " that's, uh - it's not necessary," said the warrior, reluctant to be praised for such a thing as rescuing someone. He didn't do it for the glory or the fame. If Krice thought anything of Alvina's metallic arm, he voiced as much in a question. " How does that work?" Was it just a covering, or an actual solidly-metal limb?

Alvina normally disliked talking about her limb but the warrior seemed most interested. “I won’t play it now because it isn’t ready, and if it will make you more comfortable, I will even remove your name…though I can’t promise that the locals will be unable to recognize the subject matter.” She gave him a slight wink stepping to the side, more out of the way of the common rabble in the square and extended her arm towards him. “You can touch it. It’s a complete remake; Solid metal all the way through. I lost my arm to a slaver, and was blessed enough to have an ancient avian engineer replace it with forgotten metal working. I am still learning how it works myself.” It was well constructed; sleek and rust repelling. The only drawback would be the scarring on her shoulder blade and upper torso where it was bound to her skin, grafted in bubbled whelps, years old. “It works just as I remember the arm before it to work, which would have been the God’s created natural one mind you. I’m afraid it’s otherwise useless; besides being a subject to discuss or a very useful replacement for what was lost.”

Krice said nothing more about the dog. If Alvina insisted on writing in tribute of his accomplishments, then so be it; bards were known for such songs, anyway. As she spoke of her arm, he glanced down at it to add visual detail to the explanation she offered. Judging by the manner in which she had received such a gift, the warrior deduced that such techniques must have been forgotten. He didn't touch the metal limb, as offered, but rather returned his gaze to the bard's face. She had lost her arm to a slaver, an unavoidable thing, and his displeasure of that fact showed in the subtle darkening of his gaze. Before Alvina could question him further, the warrior dipped his head and stepped away to the east. " Thanks for the music."