Word: Panache

 

panache

[puh-nash, -nahsh]

noun

1. a grand or flamboyant manner; verve; style; flair.

   The actor who would play Cyrano must have panache.

2. an ornamental plume of feathers, tassels, or the like, especially one worn on a helmet or cap.

3. Architecture.,  the surface of a pendentive.

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                “Do we really need a bard?” Zain asked.

                The mage looked at the gathered crowd of performers. All of them plied their trade while wearing overly colorful outfits. They sung, spoke and performed with grand, overly dramatic flairs and flourishes. Several of them even had actual feathers in their assorted caps.

                “I mean, between Narra and I, we have everything a bard can do.” The slight man continued.

                The party’s cleric did not respond. She was busy watching the various performances. She was critically assessing each and every one of them. After all, if she was going to be travelling with a bard, she wanted one that was at least skilled enough to be worth listening to.

                “It’s more about having someone who knows how to talk to people.” Caed said. He looked the most out of place with his armor and sword. But nobody was willing to look for long. “None of us are particularly skilled on that front. Or would you trust Narra or me to do that?”

                Zain looked between the two of his party members. The fighter seemed like the type to be good with people, but he had a somewhat slow wit, and anyone reasonably skilled could talk circles around the man. And Narra was only good at talking about things she was interested in. Otherwise, she was practically mute. And the less said about himself the better.

                “Okay fine. We need a face.” Zain admitted. “But I don’t think we’re going to find one here. Most of these people are just normal performers. Any real bard would be using magic to enhance their performance. And I have yet to see a single illusion.”

                “We’ll find one.” Caed said. “If not here, then somewhere else. This is just the best place to start.”

                “Right, right. Can we at least find one that isn’t...like that?”

                He pointed at one particularly flamboyant minstrel. The man wore an outfit where every patch was a different color, and he strummed on a lute without a care in the world. What was worse was that he was terrible at it but did not seem to realize it.

                “Yeah, definitely not someone like that. Come on, let’s get looking.” He looked and saw Narra had already wandered off. He shrugged. She was more than capable of looking after herself.

                The mage and fighter wandered through the crowds, looking for any signs of actual magic. They actually did find several. Men and women both who wove illusions into their performance, showing them to be real bards rather than some lesser performer. Some were rejected outright based on a lack of skill or an overly showy manner. Others seemed okay, but were not willing to go out on a highly dangerous journey with complete strangers.

                The two of them were just about to give up when their third party member showed up.

                “Found one.” She said simply.

                “What?” Zain asked.

                “Found one.” Narra repeated. “A bard that’s willing to help.”

                Without another word, the two men followed the cleric. They arrived at a less populated area of the square. There, sitting against a wall was a woman dressed in simple but well maintained clothes. She was not nearly as colorful or showy as the rest of the performers, and she strummed a simple lute. Her eyes were closed and her fingers played over the strings. As she did, small illusory figures appeared, moving and shifting in simple dances that were nowhere near eye-catching.

                “Oh. Oh, she’s good.” Zain said, watching the simple performance. Caed looked at the mage quizzically. “It might not seem like much, but making illusions move like that, and with such detail is hard. Really hard. Especially since she’s also focused on playing her instrument. She definitely knows what she’s doing.”

                “Good enough for me. And you said she’s willing to join us?” The fighter asked.

                “Seems like. Didn’t talk long though.” The cleric replied.

                “Well then, I guess we’d better see what she says. Come on, let’s go.”

                The three of them approached the bard, hoping to have met the fourth member of the party. One who was, hopefully, willing to handle the more social aspects of the adventuring life.

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Don't underestimate a bard. They're tricky, since you never know what they can do.