/bump

 

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"Bah, I'd be a poor heroine indeed if I got rid of me war wounds so easily. 'Tis a badge of honor, so that all can see that I got soundly thrashed by some big brave men twice me size and season," Tayana smiled dryly. "Don't worry about it, it doesn't hurt anyway. A few more rounds of drink and it won't hurt at all, actually."


Her smile softened as she looked at Hato again. "Roses everywhere, eh? And a kitten as well? Ye hold onto that husband of yours, lass, he sounds like a good one. The closest mine ever got te romantic was a bottle of wine with dinner..."


((hey, no bumping, i wanna hear more from Crispy! like the story Tay said she didn't want to hear but is dying of curiousity over. ))

Ayslyn grinned, "Aye lass. It is as I have sometimes said. There is little in this world that good friends, and a good drink cannot cure." He toasted them all with his flask before taking a sip.

 

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The young barmaid bumped the troll as she delivered drinks to his table. With a massive hand, he steadied her tray and winked. "Don't worry girlie," he said, "Trolls don't care none 'bout bein' bumped by pritty girls wit ale. Bump dis troll all you wants."

Arcalan Hemlos, Cabalist and Seneschal of St. Crispin's League, noticed the little Inn from some distance back. Her golem servitor, affectionately named "Sappy" stood by her side as always. She felt the whistling wind and thought she could hear a little of a song, and a lute playing from where she was. The breeze carried the smell of roast ham and other fine things to eat, to Arcalan's nose. Her stomach rumbled a little, and the thought of her trail rations did little to compare to the potential lunch that awaited her at the Tavern.


Her eyes lingered on that Tavern a long time, too long with this frontier being open to attack by Midgard skirmishers or Celtic warriors. She couldn't understand what had fascinated her so, about this little tavern, and why a part of her yearned to go inside.


But she shut up that feeling in the confines of her heart and turned her back to the welcoming atmosphere, the laughing and carousing. They had no place for her.


Arcalan Hemlos turned her back and made her way towards the Milegate. Like sand tricking through a clenched fist, the moment slipped away, and without knowing it, she'd missed one of the best experiences she'd have ever had.


But her Master knew.. and his gentle, insidious hand guided her back.. away from those who would steal her from him... she had much to do...

Yual took the flute from his love's small hand and examined it. The wood was smooth in his hands, and though the flute looked rough hewn, it was actually expertly carved.

He placed it to his lips and blew gently as Fatima looked up wide-eyed at him. The resulting sound was less than melodious; mostly air with a gasping dull note.

Fatima covered her mouth as she grinned at the highlander. Yual wiped off the mouthpiece and smiled a bit sheepishly, glancing around the room to guage any bystanders' reaction to his attempt. He handed the instrument back to Fatima, "Clever are ye?" He chuckled softly as she took the flute in her hands.


Her small fingers fit over the small holes a bit more easily than Yual's large ones. She licked her lips and placed them to the flute as she drew a breath.

The tiny rogue closed her eyes and, softly at first, began to blow. Yual's grin slipped from his face as a pure tone began to hum from the flute. Louder it grew, until the air around Fatima was filled with a single, perfect note. She seemed almost entranced as she held it for as long as her single breath would last.

When she was done, a single tear coursed its way down her dusky smooth cheek.

Ayslyn smiled fondly as he watched the young saracen and her new gift. He clapped Tatton on the shoulder. "Good work lad."

 

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The young barmaid took a drink order from a table of lurikeens that she'd never heard of before. As she passed the order on to Morden, he rolled his eyes and sighed, "Oh fer cryin'... lass that drink will take an age to prepare. Ah'm jes' too busy now. Ye best be fixin' it yerself fer them 'keens. Here," he thrust an ancient bartending manual at the girl, "ou'll find the recipe on page three."

Tatton's attention was diverted instantly when he heard the newfound voice echo through the tavern.


Some people can play a myriad of melodies on an instrument, but even then there is no music involved. But there was more said in that single perfect note, than a choir of auctioneers could have hollered.


Tatton smiled and nodded to Ayslyn.


"I was wrong Ayslyn, that lass has a voice indeed, one of great beauty."

 

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A rather large Celt in blue and grey pulled out a small object from his utility belt. He looked at the disc in his hand for a moment, hit it lightly against the ground, and frowned.


"This is truly strange. Something or someone must be fooling with the magnetic poles," Wales said to himself as the needle started spinning in every direction: north, south, east, and west.


The super hero had been been lost for a few minutes now, which was not uncommon for him, but he could usually rely on his compass to find his way home.


In the distance, Wales thought he had heard something. He put his compass back in his belt and started walking towards what seemed to be music. He walked a little ways and eventually came to what appeared to be the forest's end. In the distance, there sat a tavern.


Although he hated to do so, he was going to have to stop by. It's not that he didn't like taverns, it's the fact that he was going to have to ask for directions. After all, he was a male super hero.


He groaned as he walked towards the building. When he approached the door, a man, who appeared to be the barkeep, came out and greeted him.


"Welcome to the Crossroads Tavern," he said. "The name's Morden. Ye'll be needin' to leave all y'er weapons outside, feller."


Wales looked at the man strangely as he leaned his great sword against the outter wall. He stood there for a moment, as if he was thinking. Finally, he asked, "How can I enter if my fists have to remain outside? They are indeed my deadliest weapons."


Morden, thinking the Celt was joking, laughed and motioned the man inside. Wales cocked an eyebrow, shrugged, and followed Morden's beckon.


((I've been meaning to post earlier, but I never got around to it. Nice thread!))