Ruckus and rowdy at the best of times, the Pushy Pixie, Velarsburg’s only tavern, was always packed when the Flametresses came to town, and, although not a regular amongst the troop of Sune’s priestesses, Tassyl often joined their performances when their paths crossed. Whirling through the increate dance routine, she could not help but notice a small table that stood out because it had only one occupant; an oddly dressed young man, barely of age by his look, yet the rough-and-tumble crowd gave him a wide birth. Finishing the final routine of the night, the dancers received a wild standing ovation, but she noticed that the young man still bore the solemn look of a stranger amongst a crowd. Watching the dancers prance off the floor, Kaulen noticed the flame-haired beauty that seemed to stare at him, but dismissed her interest as just another gawker getting a good look at the freak and set about draining his tankard of ale. The crowd was still thick when he rose from his table, but parted as if on command to let him pass. Outside the cool air of the early spring night was refreshing, despite the blustering rain, and he paused on the porch to savor it. “Didn’t you enjoy the performance?” a lyrical, female voice drew his attention to one side. There, near a side entrance, stood the red-haired dancer he had noticed before, still garbed in her sheer, red silk costume. “Your performance was excellent,” he stammered as his eyes roamed across her scantily clad, curvaceous form, not use to anyone speaking to him if they could avoid it and certainly not such a gorgeous woman. “Yet you didn’t seem enjoyed it?” Tassyl returned, slinking toward him with seductive grace and a coy smile, very well aware that his hungry eyes were devouring her barely concealed charms. “It’s the company that I found unappealing… not the performance,” he answered, trying almost futilely to keep his eyes on her beautiful face instead of her sheer silk draped lush mounds below it and not to sound as flustered as she was making him. Now only a few feet away, she studied him intently. He was young, barely of age she guessed, though he seemed well toned, with attractive, boyish features. Then she noticed that as other patrons left the tavern and saw him standing there, they immediately turned and scurried away. “Why do they avoid you?” she asked, seeing the hurt in his eyes that he tried to hide. “I’m Kaulen Dundragon,” he said as if it was an answer, but seeing her lack of recognition he added; “The sorcerer… the mad mage!” “Oh,” Tassyl exclaimed with an expression of mock homage, but then inquired curiously; “So what is it that makes you mad?” Nodding toward the latest group of locals to exit the tavern, catch sight of him and bolt in the opposite direction, he replied; “Them mostly.”