Nestled is the hills near Delac Shire, far from the war, rests a tavern where many a lost warrior has made his or her way to by chance. It is here in this tavern that many battle weary soldiers find themselves from time to time, even if they were nary near the Shire. A place for those of all realms to rest their feet and to gather and drink, to sing songs of glory and tell tales of all kinds. Weapons were left at the door and fihgting was discouraged. Occassionaly a bar fight or scuffle broke out, but it was all in the family. Here everyone was kin and shared rounds of drinks with each other. The first round was paid for with a story, but the rest were free.


Squinting his eyes against the dawn's light, a lone warrior looked around warily. He swore he was close to the battlefield in Emain Macha, but looking around the terrain seemed .... unfamilliar. The landscape ahead of him turned hilly and brown with wild wheat that swayed in the breeze. He must have taken a wrong turn somewhere along the way. The merchant in Ardee that sold him the map swore it was one of the best. <he scoffed and threw the map on the ground>


"Best in all the three realms indeed"

Turning to retrace his steps he suddenly stopped in his tracks. The land that was to his back look the same as to his fore. Wheat speckled hills as far as the eye can see. The warrior's eyes narrowed in frustration and confusion. " 'Tis sorcery!"


Falling to his knees he prayed to the goddess to deliver him from harm and to guide him safely home. Getting to his feet he started walking in the direction he thought he came from. As the day wore on he began to lose hope. He'd traveled and traveled but still he found no sight that seemed familiar to him.


By dusk he was at the end of his endurance, thinking that home was just over the next hill or over the next, he took short and few breaks. And only having a few days rations in his backpack, he was hungry for a good hot meal. Finally succombing to exhaustion, the warrior fell to the ground and pounded his fists into the ground cursing whatever sorcery brought him to this place and fearing that he would never seen him friends or his home again.


Feeling a light on his shoulders as he began to slowly hear the sounds of music and singing.. much like patrons singing to a favorite tune in a tavern, the warrior slowly raised his gaze from the ground and saw that he was now at the foot of a well lit tavern, with a sign that said "Crossroads Tavern and Inn" in the language of not only the three waring realms, but also in writings he's never seen before.


The warrior's eyes widened in disbelief and terror and he quickly scooted away from the tavern. This was Fae magic! He was almost certain of it. His mother had warned him of tales of the Fae doing things just like this to lost and weary travelers and those travelers never being heard from again.

Eventually though, his curiosity, hunger, and hope that maybe this wasn't some Fae trick, and hope that these people could tell him where his home was got the best of him. Reaching his had forward, he opened the door and entered a tavern full of people from every realm boasting and laughing to one another in their own languages, but strangely they all seemed to understand one another, and stranger yet he understood them.


<OOC: I thought that instead of nearly one way RP posts like stories, that it would be interesting to have people interact with one another, but still be able to share a tale or two if they were more comfortable with that


I don't want any complement or /bump posts, strictly in character (complements, etc can be put at the end of a RolePlay thread >

Of course she was lost. In general the druid had a very good sense of direction, and could usually figure out roughly where she was on the ambiguous maps she carried in her pack. The frontier always managed to confuse her somehow, but since she had no set destination to speak of, Adelia was fine with being lost. For now.


Side by side, the woman and her great cat companion wove their way through hills and forest, always watching for wandering creatures and watching closer for enemy troops. In her younger, innocent days Adelia had wondered if the men of the other realms would attack a lone woman. Before she had even reached her twentieth season she had learned that yes, the forces of Midgard will attack anything that moves, male or female, armed or unarmed, regardless of season or circumstance. As for the forces of Albion, it took a bit longer for Adelia to learn that lesson; it hadn't really hit home until the group of five burly knights surrounded her and quickly executed her. She never even had the chance to lift a hand to defend herself...


The change in terrain was subtle at first, a shift from emerald hills to darker, more autumnal hues. Intent on checking every shadow for a stealthy assassin, it was some time before Adelia noticed she was surrounded by gently waving wheat. Pausing, she frowned. The land no longer felt the same; it almost had the feel she remembered of the Albion, where the land seemed to be shaded in darker, richer tones than the vibrant colors of Hibernia. Certainly she couldn't have wandered into Albion, one had to go through the fuss of buying medallions and waiting for the activation of the magical portal, didn't they? Of course they did. Shrugging at the lynx, Adelia continued on her way.


Faint music and the scent of cooking food drew her towards the warm, welcoming light of an inn. A sign bore the name "Crossroads Tavern and Inn" in an odd assortment of languages, and with her curiosity piqued, she ordered the lynx to stay outside. After all, if the atmosphere inside was not as friendly as it sounded, a druid was easily spotted by the pet tagging along after them. The cat was not pleased, of course, but grudgingly followed her orders. Her stomach rumbled at the promise of a hot meal, and a bit lower the babe kicked a reminder of its own, bringing a smile to her lips as she smoothed a hand protectively over the swell of her belly. Drawing the oversized green cloak closer to better hide her figure, Adelia started forward and opened the door...


((you stole my idea! thought i'd try to add something, but was hoping you'd give a bit more before i start babbling fractured fairy tales))

<looking around the tavern the warrior gazed around in disbelief. He'd rarely seen the forces of all three realms gathered for anything but to slay one another, but here many of them joked and laughed as if they were the best of friends.


On a stage, a band of minstrells, bards and skalds played as women, and some men, danced to the song. A few of the patrons raised clashed flaggons as they all sung baudy tavern songs.


"Pardon me sir"

<the warrior snapped back to his senses and turned to see a small aged man behind him>

"Din' mean ta scare ye lad, Welcome te' the Crossroads Tavern, te' folks here call me barkeep or Morden. Can ah take ye cloak?

<still in awe he politely refused <the man gave a chuckle and then eyed the curved blade by the warrior's side as his crimson cape fluttered aside slightly> "Ah might warn ye though, weapons aren't allowed 'ere, if'n ye dun mind ah'll take that off your hands"

<the warrior's gauntleted hand quickly moved to the hilt of his sword to hold it secure in it's scabbard>

"The sword stays with me" he said.

"Well then ahm gonna 'ave ta ask ye ta leave" said Morden

<the warrior bit his lip thoughtfully and then reluctantly surrendered his sword. If this man had done the same to everyone else as apparently he had then there was no immenent threat of one of his former enemies slaying him outright.>


After putting the sword away in a side room by the door, Morden went back to the bar and refilled a few peoples cup's. The warrior strode up to the bar to talk to the barkeeper some more.

"Wh- what ~is~ this place" the warrior asked.


Filling another patron's flaggon, Morden responded without missing a beat; "A tavern lad, din'n ye see the sign?"

<the warrior blinked>

"e look parched lad, can ah get ye anything?"

"Sure" the warrior said as he took a seat at one of the stools.

Morden began to hand him a flaggon, but as Raelian reached for it the bartender quickly pulled it away.

"Ah almost forgot lad, have ye any payment?"

<as the young warrior began to reach for his money pouch Morden stopped him>

"Keep yer gold lad, the first round is always paid for with a story"

<the warrior looked at him oddly for a moment> "A s-story?"

"Aye lad, havne't ye got any tales to tell? but before that lad, ah fergot to ask fer yer name"


<the crimson and gold warrior smiled> "Raelian Lyonsbane"


<to be continued>


<OOC: Adelia: it's not stealing if I didn't know ye planned to do it, I just beat ye to the punch is all. My appologies though

"Don't look at me like that Rags, I am not lost" Chanell told her lynx as she wandered through the trees of what she thought was Emain Macha. It had been hours since they left Dun Crimthainn, a journy which should have only taken a few minutes.

Growing frustrated, she decided to rest and look at her map. Sitting down on a nearby rock she rummaged through her pack.

"Aha!"

Pulling out the map she bought earlier from a merchant in Ardee she turned to Rags:

"I told you I brought it. Now all I have to do is find out where we are and we..."

The map was blank.

Tossing the map aside, she rose from the rock. Looking about her she noticed the green hills had disapeared, the tall trees were gone. In their place, as far as the eye could see, layed fields of wheat.

Not far in the distance she could see a building.

Perhaps they will know where I am. She thought. Gathering her things she started off in the direction of the building.


"Crossroads Tavern" She read.

It had been a long time since she had stepped foot into a tavern. She didn't know if she wanted to this time either. But, hunger and desperation pushed her through the front door.

Looking around, Chanell stood there in awe.

This was not like any tavern she had ever seen. To the left of the room a bard, a skald and a minstrel played on a small stage. Sitting at a table in front of the stage was a troll, an elf, and a highlander drinking and talking as though they had known each other all their lives. Looking around the room she noticed all the tables were like this. No one seemed to notice the person they were sitting across from was supposed to be their enemy.


"Hello miss! Welcome to the Crossroads Tavern. I be the barkeep here an' if there be anythin I kin get ya lemme know." Said the short bald man as he scurried past her to a table by the door.


Taking a deep breath she made her way across the room to the bar. Just as she reached it, she stopped in her tracks.

No, it couldn't be. She thought.

She walked over to the man sittig at the far end of the bar and placed her hand on his shoulder.

"Raelian?"


____________________________________


{ooc} <grins> wonderful idea hon.

Though, I think the lurikeen in the corner has had a bit too much to drink.

For a moment the druid wondered if she had somehow traveled back in time, to more peaceful, prosperous days before the realm wars. Chiding herself silently, she took a step inside. There had been truces called before, she had witnessed some before her own eyes; the tavern must have been declared a neutral spot of sorts. Smiling at the music and the boisterous pub songs, she almost didn't notice the barkeep as he approached her. "Hello lass, welcome te the Crossroads Tavern. I be the barkeep here, name's Morden. Can I get ye anything? Take your cloak?"


Adelia shook her head, blushing slightly. "No, thank ye, I'll hang on te the cloak for now. I'd be interested in somethin' te eat though, I thought I might've smelled some stew?"


Morden nodded, "I can fix ye up with some easy enough. You'll need te hand over your weapon, though, they aren't allowed 'ere." He motioned to her side, and she glanced down at the mace that peeked a bit from inside her cloak. Pulling the weapon free, she handed the heavy black mace to the barkeep.


"e take good care of that for me, lad," she warned him with a dry smile, "I've a friend who'll be annoyed if he has to go an' find me another one o' them." Chuckling the barkeep made his way back behind the bar, filling empty flagons and chatting cheerfully with his patrons. Scanning the tables, she spied an empty one off to the side and carefully wove her way over to it, intent on finding a good spot to settle herself in and watch the odd spectacle before her.


((beat me to it, and you're doing a fine job so far oh, and every 'keen in a pub has had to much, I think it's a law ))

The door burst open. A somewhat muffled "Sorry" came from behind the large barrel that the elf carried into the tavern. With a heave he hoisted it up onto the bar, and leaned against it. "There you are Morden. A fresh batch. Try to make this one last a bit longer. This stuff isn't easy to make." Ayslyn grinned as he handed over his bow, quiver, and daggers. He turned to face the common room, resting he elbows on the bar. Scanning the room quickly, his eyes came to rest on Adelia, sitting alone in the corner. With a grin, he quickly made it way through the crowd to her table. "Found the Crossroads, did you?"


------------------


OOC So far we have 4 hibernians roaming about *prods the other realms*

 

-----signature-----

The swirls of snow, the biting air of winter encircled her and Persey. The black mare, a stark contrast against the wonders of snow-capped hills, was barely visible beneath her. The northern winds whipped about wildly, obscuring the path, barring her way back to civilized tundralands of Snowdonia. The frozen needles of a pinetree, the wood's massive sentinel, shook like a rattlesnake. Coupled with the wind, the night was like a scary tale you would tell your child before they went to rest; full of the ambiances that would make a young boy or girl hide deep beneath their covers in fear. Though this was not just any tale, nor was it just some freak storm...


The Baroness trudged onward, nudging her horse harder as her vision was blurred by the blanket of snows and the icey rains of the storm that brewed overhead.


Loosing sight of her company, Anikka became lost in the storm. Suddenly, there came a calm as the snows turned into autumn leaves blowing in the wind, the snow-capped hills became rolling byrnies and the path buried beneath the snows turned into a foottrail that lead to a rather peculiar tavern in the midsts of an autumn wilderness.


The Baroness sat upon her dark mare, confused and alone.

Grinning, Adelia hugged Ayslyn. "Why am I not surprised te see the likes of ye here?" she chuckled, shaking her head. "Aye, I found the place easy enough, just followed me nose."


A sense of relief settled over the druid. Being surrounded by so many rowdy strangers was a bit intimidating, Adelia being so small for a Celt and all by herself, but she trusted Ayslyn and knew he'd keep an eye out for her.


"e goin' to join me for a bit, or did ye just stop in for that delivery?" she asked, motioning to the barrel.

Unbridling her horse, she holstered her mare upon the hitching post outside the isolated inn. Her heavy-plated footfalls creaked upon the wooden portico, her heavy ermine cloak falling somewhat obtusely at her feet. Straightening her brooch and lowering her hood, her golden blond-white tressles of hair fell about her shoulders. It was apparent that she had Norse blood within her; her pale skin, her tall and stout build belied her British origin yet her aqualine features gave her away as Albionese tride and true.


Extending her gloved hand, she pushed the door inward, inhaling the air as the smell of bread and mutton wafted out of the inn...

Ayslyn grinned as he dropped easily into one of the chairs. He waved one hand about airily, "Oh, I pop up in the most interesting of places." He chuckled. "How have you been, lass?" He motioned to Morden for drinks and food.

 

-----signature-----