Ayslyn chuckled at the lynx's antics. He drew forth a portion of dried fish form one of his packs and reverantly handed it over. The massive cat consented to be scratched behind the ears. "ou've been around wolves too much, Adelia," he said smiling. "ou must treat a feline with the proper respect."

 

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Sighing down at the lynx stubbornly trying to fit under the small wooden table, Adelia turned towards the bar and sent an apologetic look to the barkeep. "Where was I? Oh, the weddings... Aye, they seem to be all over the place now. Bheara--ye remember Bheara, right? Pretty blonde lass bein' tormented by a lecherous old lurikeen at me wedding reception. Well, I lent her me dress for a time that night after she'd gone swimming and the 'keen had made off with her clothes, and I warned her that by wearing the dress she'd be next to be married. Lo and behold, she's engaged now." Adelia chuckled, shaking her head. "I won't be able te attend Arie's celebration, and it breaks me heart, but I'm sure it will be a grand event. As for Maggie, well, she and Kardanor have been engaged longest, and still havena tied the knot yet. I'm startin' te wonder if they'll elope," she shrugged. Spooning up another bit of stew she watched quietly as Ayslyn scanned the room. Frowning, Adelia realized she was nearing the bottom of her bowl and was still rather hungry. Well she could order more, she thought, after all she was eating for two, she had the right to another helping.


Ayslyn paused in his perusal of the tavern's patrons, and nodded towards a weary bard. "What do you know of him," he asked. Turning her gaze towards the bard, the druid studied him. The poor lad definitely looked out of sorts, but then Adelia had already seen that half the arrivals here seemed to share an aura of confusion, herself included. It almost looked as though the lad had lost his best friend, and then it clicked.


"I bet that's Tatton. He's a young bard, Mary Brennae mentioned him te me, apparently there was some ruckus over a spirit he had livin' in... was it his flute? I can't remember. Anyway, the spirit was ailin' and he was looking te save it, and one of my clan--Adem, nae sure if ye know him, tried helpin' and another one of ours, Cevan, an elven lad that Adem doesnae get along with got involved..." she trailed off, waving her hands to emphasize the mass of confusion. "'Tis a big mess, that's all I know for certain."


Hearing the sound of the door open she turned to inspect the newcomer and her heart leapt in her chest, for she immediately recognized Suilebhain. She smiled at the joy of seeing her husband, but then bit her lip as she remembered he was cross with her. "Ays, if he drags me home by the hair, I'm leavin' it up to you te get my mace back to me," she instructed her friend. Rising from her seat and quickly began threading her way through the crowd. As she neared the door she caught the end of Morden's welcoming speech.


"...the Crossroads Tavern. I be Morden, the barkeep here. I'll warn ye though, weapons aren't allowed 'ere, and if'n ye don't mind I'll take that off your hands," he said, motioning to Suilebhain's broadsword. The same dazed, incredulous look that had graced the visage of every other newcomer to the tavern was now fixed upon her husband's face, though his had an added note of suspicion to it. Well, he might be angry with her yet, but she was going to give him a warm welcome. Smiling Adelia threw her arms around Suilebhain, standing on her tiptoes to give him a quick kiss.


"Hello, a ghra. 'Tis alright, ye can give the man yer sword, the most dangerous thing I've seen here was a 'keen who got sick all over himself. I've a table over there, ye come have dinner with yer wife and maybe take her for a spin on the dancefloor." Watching his reaction closely, she waited to see if he'd forgive her for now or, as she'd warned Ayslyn, drag her home by the hair...

Aysyln divided his attention between the bar as a whole, Adelia and Suilebhain; and Tatton. Mostly on Tatton. Adelia was a grown and formidable woman, and Ayslyn had no fear that she could not hold her own. As for the bar, there was rarely any serious trouble that happened here. Tatton however, was a different matter entirely. The lad looked as though he had been without rest for some time. Ayslyn watched as the drum fell to the floor. One eyebrow raised, he examined the bard's hands. He didn't have the heavy, thick hands of a drummer. Nor did he have the thin graceful hands of a flutist. No, his long fingers, and calused tips told Ayslyn that Tatton was a lute man. Even curiouser, was the fact that Ayslyn didn't see a lute on the man. "our pardon, great lady," he said scratching the lynx beneath her chin. She nudged him in the thigh and curled up next to Adelia's now empty chair. Ayslyn smiled and stood, making his way across the common room toward Tatton. Reaching down, he took the bard by the arm and helped him to rise. "Come with me lad." He led him to the table the saracen woman had just vacated.

 

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<Raelian began to feel stuff and weighed down by his scale armor after a few dances, so at the first opportunity he excused himself from the jovial dance crowd and found his way back to the bar. Raelian leaned in and asked the barkeep something at which Morden pointed to a tiny hall.


Turning on his heels, Raelian shoulder his back from the bar once again and quickly made his way down the hall.


After a good half to a full hour Raelian returned, having cleaned himself up a bit and changed into a pair of red- brown slacks and a white shirt. Smiling to himself and feeling refreshed he returned to the dancing throng, flirting with the ladies and having drinks with the men.


<OOC: This is great guys Thanks to all who turned out and all who will turn out for this. It's exactly what I was looking for; roleplay, stories, character histories, interaction. Keep up the good work, I know I enjoy reading this and apparently others do as well >

Studing the recent reports that came in to his room spread out apon his desk he makes notes with small dirks on his overly large maps.


As he stares at the maps, a messanger arrives.


"Sir, more reports."


"Place them on my desk, the number of hibs that have dissapeared recently has me disturbed and a few more won't make a differance."


"But sir, this isn't from our spy network in hibernia... we have albions missing to."


"WHAT?"


"Sir, they came up missing the same way as the hibs, wandering the frontier their tracks just vanish."


bracing himself, "Who are the missing?"


"we have reports that baronness Winterborne, and chrispen have both dissapeared along with a few others."


He looks over the reports and ponders for a moment. "Well if this is true The realm is a better place without that schemeing wench in it, she's nearly torn us asunder on a couple of occasions. but Christian? that does disturb me."


He poors over his maps one more time. tapping a spot on the map he states," this area is where they are dissapering at... hmmm Saddle me a horse, i must find out what is going on tonight!"


With that the messanger leaves and he prepares for his journey.


***********************************************************************


Scanning the ground he pics up the freshest tracks he can and begins to follow them. He has been comming this area for days now.


"Blast it is like they have just disspaeared! where could the have gone?"


He keeps following until the light fades, not wanting to give up yet he pulls out his torch and begins following the tracks into the brush. after a while he loses the tracks and himself.


"Blasted hibernians! now i'm lost in this accursed land."


after wandering for a few hours, He hears the sound of a tavern... it seams fimiliar, yet not... "when did teh Lone wyvern open a house out here? i may have to report them to the council for trading with enemies..."


As he stumbles out of the trees and brush he sees a tavern up ahead windows lighted and the sound of merryment comming out.


as he aproches, Staying close to the shadows the light falls acroos the tavern sign... "cross roads tavern? me pa use to tell me stories of a palce with that name... but before he died he said it dissapeared a year before arthurs death...."


feeling quite uneasy he begins to head to the door and almost freezes in his tracks, as what he though were just a couple ornimantal statues, sees one of them bound into the tavern. "Lynxes!" holding the shadows even closer he makes slowly for the door.


As he enters teh doors to the tavern, carefully so as not to break his stealth. He stares around in utter shock. there's a arms man arm wrestling with a troll, from the sound of it a keen and bold lady trading beauty secrets, and all manner of odd combinations of people being... friendly.


Under His breath "What manner of sorcery is this?"


From behind him, startling him so bad he loses stealth, " 'Tis No Sorcery Lad! jus good folks enjoying good stories, and drink!" says the bar keep.


"Where am i?"


"e are at the Cross roads, inn did ye not read teh sign out front? i thought it was still there..."


"No! i Mean what realm am i in?"


"Now does that really matter lad? i mean as ye can see i run a friendly establishment 'ere oh and ye gonna have ta leave those here, or i'll have to ask ye ta wait outside 'til ye can learn ta play nice like.." the barkeep stated pointing at the 3 weapons The Infiltrator has on him that can be seen.


"what? are you insane?" the infiltrator states.


"look aroudn ye lad? do ye see anyone else with aweapon?" replies the barkeep.


Looking around the room he notices what had disturbed him most, what had seemed so in consequential that it realyl did make the difference, not a single person was armed with steel.


"hmmm i guess, but what about Casters? how do ye disarm them good sir?"


"do na worry bout that, i have me ways, now what 'ill it be lad? warm fire? or out side with... well one of the pets?"


sighing reluctantly he hands over his weapons, for information he had to find out what was gonig on here.


"By the way lad, what be ye'r name?" querries the bar keep.


"Shamis... Shamis McCullen."


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

Sorry did my best to keep barkeep with same speach and really sorry for all the typoes but i can't spell


Shamis McCullen <shroud>

"Come with me lad."


Tatton allowed himself to be pulled to his feet by the elf. 'I know of this ranger' Tatton thought, recalling from a pub in Ardee, and days of briefly crossed paths in Tir Na Nog.


The troll only seemed amused as Tatton looked over his shoulder while being led to a new table. And he caught eyes from a lass across the bar that made a shiver run up his spine. An Albion lass for sure, with pale skin and an ermine coat.


Sitting at Ayslyn's lead, Tatton peered about the room, with eyes like a bewildered doe. His eyes stopped once again when he saw a lass in the kitchen. Something was even more troubling about her. Almost haunting. When Margery called something across the room at Fatima, he noticed the lass make a gesture and a bit of an expressive nod.


"What crime is this?" Tatton wondered to himself, "I believe that lass has no voice?" Tatton was indeed alert now, and his red eyes watered a bit, thinking of what a great sorrow it must be to have no voice. He clenched at something inside his jerkin.


He finally averted his eyes back to Ayslyn, "Um... hullo Sire. um.. Ayslyn, is it not." Tatton crooked his head to the ranger. Still feeling quite out of place and a bit nervous.

 

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Ayslyn smiled, but didn't answer him right away. He motioned to Morden for food and drink for the lad. As someone came and left a good thick stew and tankard of ale at the table Ayslyn looked carefuly at the bard. "Ayslyn is fine, lad. This inn has a very special custom. The first drink is paid with a story. Normally, it is left up to the patron to decide it's contents. I would like to make a request however. I would like to know where Mundy is." He looked at the young celt, waiting.

 

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"Take a right at the fork in the road, he says!" Kytania growls to herself as she trudges resolutely along in the dark night. "ou can't POSSIBLY lose your way, he says!" Sighing and rubbing her empty belly, she wished for a nice savory meal and some cold ale to sate her.


Cursing the bad directions in every language she knew, and even creating some new colorful ones she pauses in mid-stride, her ears picking up a sound upon the gentle breeze. Crouching instantly, hands hovering over her twin blades her eyes dart around. She relaxes her stance as she deciphers the sound. Is that...laughter?


Continuing onward, the laughter grows a bit more prominent and soon the aroma of food teases her nostrils. Clutching a hand to her growling belly she gives a silent prayer of thanks as a well lit establishment suddenly appears in the distance. She hastens forward, her curiosity peeked by the multitude of languages her ears pick up. Surely that wasn't a Hibernian joke followed by an Albion cat call!?


Glancing at the sign out front that reads The Crossroads Tavern, her pace is quickened as the hearty laughter filled the air. She had missed the sound of laughter these past few days on her mission for the Guild of Shadows. Missed the company of others. She had not realized how much so. Until now.


Striding boldly up the steps as she removes her vividly hued helm, Kyt steps inside the entrance. And is suddenly rooted to the spot by the sight that greets her. Her friends were never going to believe this one!


Cross-realm dancing, drinking and general merriment...it was a disconcerting, yet intriguing sight. Wiping a hand over her face, her eyes roam across the room. Colorful characters, friendly faces were in abundance.


Moving further into the warm, inviting room she sidles to the side, looking for a place to sit and order something tasty. The music catches her interest and she watches several people dancing jubilantly throughout the place. Oh did she ever love a good tune! Humming to herself, she winks roguishly at a comely lad...her toes tapping to the music.

As Yual walked through the door, the sounds and smells of the tavern assaulted him. He took a few more steps forward, not really seeing anything, until a hand landed on his sholder.


"Welcome to the Crossroads Tavern...."


"ual" I supplied to the jovial looking fellow.


"Ah, so your Yual. Welcome indeed lad, I've been wanting to get a good look at ye. I will have to ask you to allow me to safeguard those tools ye 'ave on yer belt and back there."


Still in a daze the highlander unfastened his mace and passed it over to the man. As he started to turn back twords the common area, Morden gave a slight cough.


"The sword too..."


"ual locked gazes with the man, his promise to keep his brothers sword bringing him back to his senses. Morden just nodded.


"ou'll get it back in the same state you left it, but I can't allow you to stay if ye insist on keeping it."


Yual looked around the tavern and started to reply "Well then I guess....." just as his eyes fell on a cloak, covering a chair with a small book on the table infront of it. Morden, followed his gaze and gave a chuckle.


"She's waited a long time for you to find this place. Lets not keep her waiting any longer over a little thing like a sword shall we?" Yual just nodded and unbuckled the harness, passing the sword to Morden hilt first. Morden took the sword and said "Go on and have a seat, I'll let her know your here." before the barkeeper headed off into the back.

<stares in to the coals of the tavern's fire, the mulled wine taking the chill from his bones as he forgets all>