"A new tale," he chuckled for a bit, "Lass, all of my tales are, like myself, very old." He grinned as she looked at him. "Alright, very well. A new tale it is. This is a tale from before I met Esme. Our adventuring company was small, but tight knit. There was myself, my good friend, Alec Boru, a mage of some renown, " Ayslyn grinned, "And a young cavalier named Tellerion," Ayslyn frowned at the mention of the lad. "This was the core of our group. Others joined us from time to time; the warrior woman Miranda, champion to a king and land long lost to the sands of the desert, and of time; Talaria, a lovely cleric; Figgit, a mage and saurial, who had awakened Miranda from the enchanted slumber that she had been in; Violet, who had been a young waif living on the streets of Skullport, victim of a gods wrath for helping us, and later, she became a priestess of Mystara; and of course," he smiled fondly, "Esme."


"But I digress. This all happened on one of our excursions into the Forest of Wyrms. A foul tract that was home to no less than six green dragons. Along with their pets. There were so many snakes in the Forest that it seemed as though the ground were alive. Now, Alec had a curious, and very strong, aversion to snakes. Luckily for him, and unluckily for Cyric and his followers, he had won in a game just one week prior a ring which was able to grant a single wish." Ayslyn grinned, remembering. "With a flourish, Alec raised the ring, and shouted 'I wish that all of the snakes in the Forest of Wyrms were teleported to Zentil Keep right now.'" Ayslyn chuckled. "Now as I am sure you remember, Zentil Keep is the main concentration of Cyric's worshipers. Now while the Forest was not the largest of its like, such as the Great Forest in the north, it was not a small piece of land. A man ahorse would have to ride for 5 days just to cross it. And as I said, it was virtualy carpeted with snakes, not to mention the tree-dwelling ones. In an instant, we had eradicated a hefty chunk of Cyric's followers, burying them alive. I can tell you, having had a run in with him later, that Cyric was not very happy." Ayslyn grinned and took a sip from his flask.

 

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Chuckling, she shook her head. "Sounds like something Peregin would do. He had a talent for finding new and creative ways to get himself in trouble and drag us all along with him. I don't think we angered any gods, though. Demons, yes. We found out the hard way that ye shouldn't pick on the little demons, because they will come lookin' for ye when they're all grown up and unholy powerful..." Tayana shivered, and took a long drink of the stout.


"e have any tales that aren't from the old days? Like perhaps how ye met that Alb lass we ran into in the frontier not long ago?" she asked, glancing around the room at the scattering of inhabitants of Albion. It seemed as though a few new ones had wandered in while they had been trading tales. Eyeing a highlander she hadn't noticed before she sighed inwardly--they were all so damn tall! No wonder they seemed to so enjoy pummeling her in battle, she must look like a lurikeen to them...

Johnedward snored softly as he sat on the lawn of Emain while Daphnie drummed her fingers over her chain leggings waiting for signs of his stirring. "It's amazing how he can sleep with his eyes open like that," she thought to herself. Sighing in exasperation, she glanced at a nearby Albion guard who nodded at her in understanding: No enemy would molest the sleeping armsman as long as the guards stood watch. Daphnie felt a little better and stood, shaking out the grass and lawn clippings from her cloak.

She surveyed the area as the sun started downwards. Emain Macha, without its native Hibernians or invading Mids, was a lovely and peaceful place. She breathed in the sweet grass smell and sighed, wondering what to do with herself now. She and John were supposed to explore Emain together this night, but the hard work he'd done earlier helping his Thorns defend Caer Renaris had exhausted him. She was more than understanding and knew that the armsman had to sleep when he could, she just wished it wasn't on their date night.

She had three options: she could walk back into the portal keep and return to Albion, she could stay here and watch her husband sleep, or she could explore alone and hope that any hidden foe simply ignored her presence. "Oh well," she glanced back at his sleeping form and walked away from the keep.

Minutes later, she surprised herself by walking though the Albion Mile Gate unaccosted. She felt eyes on her with every step, but since there was nothing the defenseless healing cleric could do about it, she simply resoved to keep going until she could go no further. Past the Thimble she walked and then south for what seemed an extraordinarily long time. It was fully night now, and Daphnie began to think that perhaps she should have stayed at the keep with John. She clutched her scry stone waiting for him to awaken. She could hear voices in the treeline and dared not suppose what made them. Shadowy figures danced in her peripheral vision, only to disappear as her eyes darted to find them. Her heartbeat quickened as did her steps.

Emain had given way to Briefine, and Daphnie's envisioned peace of the lovely Hibernian frontier melted away into the realities of its dangers.


Out of nowhere, she felt something sharp and hot pierce her thigh. An arrow! From the woods! "Damn Hibs," she muttered and turned around to sprint towards a cluster of large stones in which she thought to hide. Running torchless through the darkness and calling on healing blessings for her injuries, she didn't quite see what it was that she tripped and struck her head upon.

"I really ought to wear that darn ugly helm more often. It's got a use, after all," Daphnie woke up next to a wooden bench. She stood as quickly as her woozy head would allow, and tried to regain her dignity in case anyone had been watching her. Looking around she did not immediately see anyone, and took the opportunity to kick the bench for its crime. "Owie," she cried as the bench won their second engagement. Hopping around, she spied an albion assasin nearby. He must have been stealthing earlier, she decided and sniffed as her cheeks flushed.

"Well hallo there, young, uh, man. I'm Daphnie McCormick. And you are...?" she called out carefully. She'd love for the protection of an assasin out here in the wilds, but she certainly didn't want to attract the attention of another arrow.

The man nodded at her, and she thought she almost saw him try to hide a grin. Daphnie held out her gloved hand in greeting and began to walk forward, but somehow managed to trip over the forgotten helm that had rolled from her pack. Face down on the ground, the avalonian cursed the day she'd held her breath until her mother had allowed her to quit Charm School.

She picked her head up and blew a wisp of blond hair out of her face. "Oh, there it is!" she said loudly, for the assasin and any other witnesses to overhear, "I thought I'd lost that!" She stood up again and brushed away the bits of leaves from her chain armor. And that's when she noticed it. Instead of grassy, this area was deeper, richer, just simply... brown leafier than she'd remembered what she thought must have been minutes ago. She knelt to replace her helm in her pack and stood again. This time the assasin spoke to her, "Daphnie, the entrance is around the front there," he pointed.

"Good lord," she thought, "the entrance to what?"


"Crossroads Tavern and Inn," the sign stated fairly clearly in a jumble of different languages and writings. She looked up at the building in wonder at its existance. Squeezing her scry stone, she futiley willed John to wake up. "He's soooo never gonna believe this," she mumbled as she pushed opened the wooden door.

"Azi? No, I don't think that I shall," He shook his head. "The little that I could tell you would just make you hungry for more, and I am sure she would not like someone speaking of what happened. Suffice to say, that I had seen her a number of times, though she did not know it at the time, and she was in less than comfortable circumstances when I revealed myself to her. I was gathering information to aid a good lad who was losing the fight with a rather nasty sorceress. And if you wish to know more about that," he pointed across the room at Crispian, "ou'ld do better asking the lad himself. A lad who wouldn't make you feel like a 'keen, unlike Arguyle over there," he indicated the highlander.

 

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Stepping into the tavern, Daphnie was shocked and delighted at what she saw. Here were the inhabitants of three warring realms sharing peace as though Arthur were still alive. She smiled, both for the sight that warmed her heart, and for the realization that here was a safe haven; she would not be host to any more arrows tonight.

She removed her cloak and smoothed the bib of her brand new armor, freshly dyed in McCormick Teal. Softly she sighed, wishing she could heal the colorblindness that her husband suffered from; an act that would ease the suffering of the rest of the McCormick family who wore his armor color as well.

As she reached to hang her cloak on a peg, she scanned the crowd that was eating, drinking, laughing, dancing, talking and... embracing? Was that Keisha's brother Yual over there with his arms around the little saracen girl? Those two were such a dramatically quiet couple in the Guardians. And who were the two she'd stepped past in the doorway? It looked like a somewhat familiar kilted Highlander woman staring into the soft eyes of a Celt. Daphnie blushed and looked away. How many others knew about this place?

She spied Arguyle MacFadden sitting on his own and was about to call out to him when she realized that the peg had not caught her cloak. She bent to snatch it from the floor and tried to rehang it, this time devoting more attention to the hooking of the hood. Daphnie turned around once again intending to wave to Arguyle and catch his eye, but startled to see a little old man standing in front of her.

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

"Um, no," Daphnie gestured towards her cloak on the peg but turned around as Morden raised a brow at her. There it lay on the floor again. She scooped it up and placed it in his arms with a grateful smile. "Thank you. Nice place you have here! I love it!"

The little man smiled, "Ah might warn ye, weapons aren't allowed 'ere, if'n ye dun mind ah'll take 'em off your hands."

"Oh! Of course!" Daphnie scooped up her bag, which rattled with her helm and various medallions, and pushed it into Morden's arms. "Thank you!"

"Er, eh, an' yer weapon as well, lass?"

Daphnie looked at him a bit confused. "What? That's it. I'm a healing cleric, not an assasin. I don't use weapons."

Morden nodded at the hammer that hung at her waist.

"Oh! Oopsie. I totally forgot about that one," Daphnie blushed and attempted to wrestle the granite hammer from her belt loop. The magical weapon glowed a bright orange in protest as she finally slipped it off, but went quiet again as she placed it in Morden's over-full arms. "Thanks again, really. I'm Daphnie. I'm sure I won't be long. Do I need a ticket or something?"

"Nay, ma'am," a stoutly woman clucked as she rescued Morden from the load. "We'd jes' be keepin' this back there. Ye kin ask fer them when ye decide te leave."

"Okies. Thanks ever so much!" Daphnie smiled gratefully at the flustered pair and turned once again towards the crowd and Arguyle.

"...a lad who wouldn't make you feel like a 'keen, unlike Arguyle over there," Ayslyn said, motioning to the highlander. Frowning Tayana looked down at her drink, then over at the two lads that Ayslyn had pointed out, and then at her drink once again. Yes, she was still sober, and she knew she hadn't said that aloud...


"Alright," she said, pointing a warning finger at Ayslyn. "Don't be readin' my thoughts or I'll start purposely thinkin' things to disturb ye, and don't be thinkin' I can't disturb ye, I don't care how old or mad ye are, I'm still crazier." Pausing she took a long swig from the mottled green bottle. "And I'm nae drunk enough to go startin' conversations with Albs yet, so I'll just wait on those tales."

Ayslyn chuckled "I am afraid that will be quite a wait. I will tell tales that embarrass me, and I will tell tales that embarrass those who are dead, but I tell tales that embarrass the living only when I know they won't mind." He grinned, mischieviously, "And I think that you might make a better impression sober." He stood and before she could say anything, called out. "Milord Crispian. This lovely young lass would like to know how we met."

 

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Crispian looked up from his hushed conversation with Tobyas. "Ayslyn, my friend!" He stood quickly and sketched a bow. "I don't think she wants to hear all the sorted details," he said as he blushed a gentle shade of pink.

 

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<Raelian's face registered shock for a brief moment at hearing she was an albion priestess, but quickly turned into a smile. It'd wouldn't be his first time flirting with an Albion beauty.>

"Ah pleasure to meet such a beauty as thee" <Smiling still, he bent down and kissed her hand, then looked into her eyes and winked before heading back into the tavern and smiling into his ale as he took a sip>

Aysyln chuckled as he shook his head, "No lad, the details are yours to keep or to give, I promise you that. Now, if I am not mistaken, I recognize your companion," he bowed low, "Ayslyn Greenwillow, at your service. I am glad to be able to finaly introduce myself." He grinned.

 

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