[center][h3]--- [i]Center of Town[/i] ---[/h3]
[h2][i][b][color=6ecff6]Rinn Arniman[/color][/b][/i][/h2]
Interactions: [@xaltwind], [@dragonydas], [@Rune_Alchemist], [@CitrusArms], [@BunniesOfDoom], [@Remram][/center]
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Rinn gimmaced again at the brat's 'bird-man' comment, one eye twitching as she turned her jam-stained cheeks toward him and presented her bright red tongue. He stuck his right back at her, hands grabbing the side of his face to make the most [s]childlike[/s] insulting face he could muster to which she responded ten-fold. They went back and forth like this for several moments as the old man talked, completely oblivious to the psychological war going on behind his back. The bard was seriously considering giving her a lesson in not-so-nice language when he turned back and presented the bag.

[color=6ecff6]"O-oh!" [/color]Rinn muttered, slightly confused but the pain in his stomach silenced any further questions. He took the sack hesitantly, almost as if expecting some sort of trick, but the man just kept on with his friendly old-man smile. [color=6ecff6]"Thank... you."[/color] A hand reached in and came back with a loaf of sourdough, still soft as if it had come out of the oven only that morning. Rinn's eyes sparkled as he marveled at it, delighted at the way the bread pulled apart in his fingers. The taste brought a tear to his eye as he swallowed his first bite before devouring the rest like a starving wolf at a fresh kill. 

[color=6ecff6]"Good sir!" [/color]He shouted, getting to his feet so quickly it caused Wilma to squeek in shock. [color=6ecff6]"You have saved my life this day! I vow to repay your kindness ten- no a HUNDRED fold in the days to come!"[/color] The wide-brimmed hat came down and he bowed low before straightening with a hand held aloft as if commanding an army of ten-thousand knights despite the crumbs still speckling his cheeks. [color=6ecff6]"A HUNDRED FOLD!"[/color]

[color=aqua]"He broken, grampy..."[/color] Wilma said in a poor attempt at a whisper.  

With a belly full of bread, Rinn let the girl's comment slide as he drew the vielle from his back, one wrist flicking the bow from its leather holster and drawing a soft note across the 4 strings. His topaz eyes looked over the other folks still present in the square. [color=6ecff6]"My name is Rinn Arniman and I hope to serve you fine people the most extraordinary entertainment in this beautifu- this charming- this-..."[/color] The words faltered as he shifted his gaze to the surrounding dilapidated buildings just as some rotted beam finally gave up the ghost and a portion of nearby roof collapsed inward with a crash. [color=6ecff6]"[i]this village[/i]." [/color]

Rinn's fine boots clicked as he stepped across the wagon bed, the bow of the vielle moving in time as the squat, wooden instrument [hider=sang out a light and energetic ascending scale][Youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cfv8qTZevrw[/YouTube][/hider]. The notes were clear and pure, cutting through the air like a warm knife through butter. He stepped down gracefully, without breaking his stride and as he settled on the dirt the sound reached a peak and hung with heart-stopping anticipation. His eyes sparkled as he felt the tension pull his own heart strings. The bow began to dance, calling forth a tune remeniscent of spring, of love, of unwavering hope in a brighter future. Anyone who listened might find their weariness lifted, if just a little, and their steps a bit lighter. Rinn's entire body moved with the music as if the notes themselves came from his very bones and for a brief moment his eyes closed as he lost himself completely in the sound echoing through the old village. 

It was only a moment as he drifted across the square, deftly skirting the elf woman and her collection of tools as well as the crumbling well where she worked, but then Rinn's bright eyes found a petite golden-haired elf just off to the side, her delicate hands clutching the worn bindings of a much-loved book, and his course shifted. The vielle continued to sing, though the volume softened considerably as he sidled up beside her. [color=6ecff6]"The beauty of the elves is like the finest painting of a master."[/color] Rinn's tenor voice purred as he tipped his head politely though his eyes never left hers. [color=6ecff6]"Truly you are the inspiration for many a fine song and poem, my lady. Might a humble bard know your name?"[/color]