1721 - Vatican City

The wind whipped down the cobbled streets, creating tiny devils in between the placed stones. A small group of people gathered around one end of the street, illuminated by a flickering torch, and all focused on one person.
He was a tall, finely dressed man, and in his hands was a long wooden instrument. He plucked the gut stretched out across the wood tenderly, smiling. "Now, you all wanted a story, so a story I shall tell." The man grinned a faded smile, his teeth the color of stained wood.

His fingers flew across the strings, causing a single note to ring out and reverberate down the warm street. The man smiled against, raising an eyebrow at the crowd, sizing them up. A group of ruffians....hm, I guess, the usual one...

He strummed the strings again and his silver tongue kicked into action.

"Eons ago, before your father's time. Before your father's father's time. Before even the time of the Church and popes. Before the time of Jesus Christ. Before the time of the great kings and ancient wars. Before the time of Northerner invasions, before even, the legends of heroes. This time, was a time of peace and prosperity. There were but two groups of people. Those that lived in villages, and those that lived outside the villages. The people were gay and made merry. The harvest was good and there was many a feast in great banquet halls. Much music was had and the wine flowed as free as the rivers.
"There was peace. But peace is a fickle thing, and is gone as quickly as the wind. And there came a time of great strife. Those inside the villages had discovered a great dungeon, when mining for metals in the hill lands.
"Inside this dungeon lived a great beast....who was awoken by the axes and picks of the village-dwellers, and was angered by their intrusion...."

Yes, this was the clutch. The monster. The thing the people wanted and craved for. The man's melodic voice echoed down the street, telling a tale of bravery and strength...a peasant's tale. His fingers occasionally plucked the strings, and his wooden smile was never far from his face. This man was a stranger in the outside world. Always shut up in great estates or monasteries. But, he was awake. Free at last. And soon the world would know his name. For he was the future hero-to-be. The role-model of the universe. This was the great, the magnificent, the not-quite-legendary Templar Jeacque Raynes-Iron.

Leo looked at Alan and raised an eyebrow, "Hello." He struggled not to punch Alan out of reflex--touch had never been his thing. "Have you seen Isabella?" His fingers twitched slightly as a breeze drifted in from an open window. "She's been gone for far too long. Her trip to the duchesses' home shouldn't have taken this long..."

He began pacing again, letting Alan's hand fall off of him. "What... She's not... She's not like us..." He stopped at a wall and placed his head on it. "If she doesn't come back, I'm killing the Duchess, her brother, her dog, her dog's brother, and every damn servant in that damned house." His lack of sleep and unusual amount of alcohol within the last week was causing his judgment to slur slightly; he was becoming more an more irrational.

He stepped back and looked at Alan, saddened, "Gaaaaaaaaaah." His weary eyes seemed to be only offset by his tone; stressed and alert.

Leo's ear twitched slightly as he heard the knock on the door. Isabella? He headed to the door, still fuming. With curt movements, he opened the door and looked at Maria, his hopes fading quickly, "Maria, it's a pleasure. It seems everyone is dropping in." He motioned for her to come in, closing the door as she walked in. "You wouldn't have seen Isabella, would you? She's been missing... And I'm a tad worried..." His lip quivered slightly as he thought of Isabella, either dead, or hurt, somewhere, lost in the city.

He was becoming paranoid.

Pacing resumed, Leo's eyes searched the floor for a clue to where Isabella was; more specifically, if she was alright. But, alas, it seemed the floor yielded nothing as he paced from one wall to the next, never looking up. He muttered quietly to himself his fingers curling in and out.

Leo almost jumped, "Brilliant. Lets go!" He pulled on his pack, which was sitting next to the door and headed out. He need to find Isabella, no matter where she was. "Now, we're going to need to..." He stopped and waited for them to come out, proceeding only when he heard the door shut, "Ok. I think we should go in as... Diplomats from the Ucoslovian country. No, Ucoslovian doesn't exist, so just go with it. Maria, I need you to take lead on being the head grifter. You'll be assuming the identity of Princess Varia Liofinich. Alan, I need you to come up with a cover, and quick. I'll be Marvich L'Nic. Alright? We need to get in, find Isabella, and get out." He hurried down the street, tightening his pack. "We'll only need to use our covers if we can't sneak in. But, we probably can sneak in."

Alan walked out of the room with Merry, Watching Leo doing this was fun he was so good at what he did, Alan had to admit to himself that he had been disappointed when Leo hadn't given him a character to slide into although Alan knew that everyone knew he could slide into a character he made himself much better then one given to him.

Alan thought for a moment and changed how he was walking making himself look more important and dangerous, Alan smiled at Leo "My name is Rilo 'D' Gertus and I am the royal guard charged with protection of the Princess Varia Lionfinich, Alan was glad he was dressed in what he was dressed in, It was a simple dark suit which a lot of nobles and royals a like would wear along with the cloak her wore to hold his "tools".

Templar smiled and bowed deeply to the group, his hair falling elegantly into his face. He wiped down the gut strings on his lute and wrapped it carefully in it's cover. "Thank you....thank you." He chuckled and smiled his dirty smile, holding his palm vertical to the crowd. "No, no payment, thank you." He bowed low again and backed out of the crowd.

He quickly vanished down the street and started heading towards the richer side of town, near the massive cathedral. He was running low on funds, and the rich where always generous to a bard. He grinned to himself and rubbed his face, streaking a fine white powder along his jaw, unnoticed.
He turned down another street and raised his eyebrow at a shady group bearing down on him. They were muttering to themselves and looked like nobles trying to pretend.
Templar reached into a pouch and withdrew a long, thin metallic tube. It was lined with holes and he raised one to his mouth. He started to blow into it, and a soft melody erupted from the tube. It was a twisty melody that spoke of mystery and hidden glories, deep within it's tones. He stopped, removing the tube from his lips and addressed the group of three. "Good evening gentlemen and lady; care to listen to a tune from me? A pretty coin will pry a story that will be sure to warm your soul. And perhaps....keep the brigands off your backs."

Leo raised an eyebrow at the bard, disgruntled that he had stopped them. He stepped forward in the group and looked at the brightly colored man, his eyes alight with slight anger, "Bard, we aren't in any mood to dance around your tunes, or watch you prance about. We're in quiet a tither, so if you don't mind, I would be delighted if you step aside and let us be on our way. The Ucoslavian government would prefer to have its nobles back in their proper place as soon as possible."

He straightened his back and blinked, waiting for an answer. As far as grifters went, Leo was one of the best. Not to say the others were bad, he'd just been doing it for much longer. When he was training, he learned to read people, and he learned to lie--better than anyone. When he got into character, he was no longer himself. He walked different, he talked different, he even adapted odd mannerisms that made his character... His.

As a Ucoslavian dignitary, he had to speak as if he had only recently "mastered" English. His walk had to be almost a strut; his posture, dominant and cat-like. He always had to be on guard, mostly from mental attacks. As a diplomat, people attacked him with words rather than hand-to-hand combat or daggers. He was Marvich L'Nic.

Alan's sword was out in a flash as the bard walked out onto the street, The thin blade shone in the moonlight as Alan held the long thin sword in his right hand, Many people had asked him how he could conceal such a weapon without anyone seeing it in his clothes, He never told anyone because in truth it was just something he did he was a master of concealment and it was simple things like walking with a lean that could hide somethings from the size of a pin to the size of a sword.

Alan walked slowly up out of the shadows to put himself between Leo and the bard as would his job be if he was who he now said he was, Alan's gaze flickered over the bard weighting him up as a knight or other person trusted enough to guard a princess would, Alan gave a small cough as Leo finished his speech "Bard I suggest you move" he said with a voice designed to not carry his accent but allowing the posh manner of a noble to fill his voice instead.

"Well, an interesting situation this is indeed. For never have I, in my career as a bard, ever had a sword drawn upon me, especially not one by a noble, or their bodyguards." He grinned his wood-colored grin and returned his instrument to it's pouch. He bowed low to the men, still grinning. "So, if you don't mind me asking, why are the Slavs sending ambassadors to these Papal States? Business? Pleasure? Redemption? I've heard that you easterners have a different sect you worship..." His grin remained.

"Of course, who am I to ask who's business is what? I am just a simple bard, no one of importance. My job is to entertain, tell stories to the masses and appease the drunken hordes that pervade the streets of our fine city." He waved his hand about the street for effect. "Of course..." His grinned sharpened, eying the group with a cat-like malice. "I could always just leave, and go entertain others...I'm sure someone wants to hear my stories."