Abby - 2000-03-06
"Keleos smiled vaguely, revising her opinion of the unusual wild elf. (Flattery will get you anywhere.)f you are willing or not, I still suggest gathering your belongings and starting to move off while I will make one last attempt to take them off this foolish path they walk."
After a moment's consideration, she nodded. "Very well; I am willing to talk. But we should, I think, be moving on. If it suits you, I believe the township of Stoneley Mill is not very far from here." She quirked a brief, wry grin. "I expect that will be far enough from the Forest of Kethiel to reassure your so-suspicious kin, no?"
Pedro - 2000-03-06
eydon sat at the bar nursing a tankard of watered ale. The last of the customers - his former audience - had finally decided to leave him alone. [It's my own fault], he thought. [If only I hadn't caught that knife in my teeth...] He gingerly felt around the inside of his mouth with his tongue. [No chips... this time. When will I learn?] The last was followed by an amused smirk. [Never, I hope. Learning's for boring people. Mistakes maketh the interesting man.]
Leydon dipped his finger into the ale, swirling it around a bit. He didn’t like Stoneley Mill. Or small villages in general. He never had. There was just something inherently uninteresting about them. Not boring, mind you. Boring could sometimes be fascinating in its own way. This sort of village was just uninteresting in the most passive and negative sense possible. Nothing ever happened.
He took a sip from the ale and pondered on how much he hated travelling. [It's just crap. You sit on a horse and get shaken for five hours. Then you get off, eat something with the same taste and consistency as parchment, have a drink of water, and then get shaken around for another five hours. Then you set up camp (work!) and sleep on the floor (uncomfortable and dirty), only to wake up the next day and start all over again. You don't get regular baths, you hair goes all tangled and... what could be worse than tangled hair? Oh, I know. Bandits. Smelly idiots who try to attack you. That's the best bit. Almost as good as having to add an extra few days onto the whole trip by skirting around the forest of Kethiel. Still, it was indubitably the right choice. You'd have to be an absolute fool to go through the Forest. Those elves are as xenophobic as they come. You'd have to be an arse, or foolishly brave. I'm neither.] That last thought was accompanied by a slightly self- satisfied smile, which faded as soon as the train of thought arrived at its conclusion. [It's just crap.]
Having reached this startling revelation, Leydon took another sip of his ale. [The worst thing about small villages is the women. They're either frigid or ugly. Or both. I can't wait to get to Torrigan, so that I can meet real women again. Mmm. Real women. Real... hmm?]
He raised his eyes as a pretty young woman - who he'd somehow not noticed so far - approached him. [Here we go, here we go...] Leydon put on a dashing smile and turned a little to face her.
"Do you mind if I sit with you, sir?" She looked a little anxious. "Of course not, my dear. Go ahead." He brushed a loose lock of honey- brown hair behind his ear, and turned his big dark eyes towards her as he waited for her speak.
"It's just that I know you tumblers are travelling types, sir, and I was so impressed with your act that, well, I was hoping you could tell me more about it... about travelling that is. Will you tell me your story?"
Leydon barely managed to bite back a laugh. "Ah yes," he said, looking really serious "I'm an experienced traveller. I love the road. Of course I'll tell you some stories." He looked around theatrically, then back at her. "In private?"
Martin - 2000-03-06
uranog nodded in agreement with Keleos' suggestion, still mounted.
"Keleos here is more familiar with the lands hereabout than I am as yet. If she suggests this Stoneley Mill as a more suitable place to parley, I for one will not disagree. Whatever you would say to us, good elf, can surely be said in less hostile surroundings…?"
Muranog's gaze raked the elf who called himself Taletherion and the mounted pyromancer waited for a response.
Spellbinder - 2000-03-07
revor’s mind swirled like the wind with a thousand different questions he wanted to ply Selene with, but he forced himself to be silent, listening instead to the sounds of pursuit. The freshening wind made it difficult to judge, but they seemed to be getting closer, perhaps moving into a position to cut them off. He could feel Selene tense each time a hound bayed, which triggered the desire to ask her questions all over again. Finally, he could stand no more. He was about to speak when Selene placed her hand on his, startling him. He closed his mouth with an audible click as she spoke softly to him about stopping. There was something in her manner and voice that caused him to comply without question. He pulled back gently on the reins of his horse, stopping the stallion. An absurd thought occurred to him. He didn’t know the name of this horse. Night Dancer, his usual traveling companion, had pulled up lame and he had taken this one from his father’s stock. Trevor shook himself from the irrelevant thought as Selene dismounted and ordered him to hide and stay put. Ordinarily, Trevor would have objected strongly to being ordered around by a strange woman in his own territory, but for some reason he could not explain he complied with her wishes, his only communication being an inquisitive expression.
When she disappeared he looked at Tiel and whispered rather indignantly "Just who does she think she is, anyway? Or a better question would be who is she, really? Those hounds are after her, judging from the way she has reacted to them. Who could be after her and why?" Trevor straightened and continued, his voice speculative "If I were to make a bet, I would say she is royalty and if so, what is she doing running around out here in the forest?" He sighed,frowning. "There are just too many unanswered questions. But believe me, I intend to find out." he finished emphatically. A sound ended the questions and speculation. Trevor already had his sword at the ready when Selene reappeared. Her manner communicated fatigue, although she tried to hide it, and her clothing was a bit worse for wear, her cloak torn. Trevor sheathed his sword and she mounted his horse again in the same perfunctory manner as earlier and nodded to him. He clucked to his horse and they were off.
Selene put her hand to her head and to Trevor’s surprise, leaned back against him. Leaning to one side to see her face he looked down at her, wondering if she was all right. For a moment he thought she might have passed out. She calmly said she was all right. Trevor nodded and returned his attention to their surroundings. After a few minutes she seemed to lay more heavily against him. Trevor looked at her again and to his astonishment she was fast asleep! Trevor was dumbfounded, the only course of action was to continue riding and to prevent her from falling off, which he did by bringing his other hand up and grasping the saddlehorn. As she relaxed against him in sleep he was all too aware of her closeness, though for the young Knight this was not an entirely unpleasant experience. Selene's forehead rested against his neck, the fragrance of her hair more pronounced. At one point in her sleep she moaned softly and snuggled her face closer into his neck and sighed contentedly. He noticed Tiel was looking at him with amusement written on her features. He rolled his eyes and concentrated his attention on the trail ahead.
Krell - 2000-03-07
Krell had hoped he'd find a trail left by a recently passing group, but his luck in that department was insufferably bad. He did, however, manage to take down a deer two day's journey from the village. He was always a good hunter, especially when in his wolven form. Even now, as he trotted alone around trees and through the folliage, he could still remember vividly the moment he prang out and caught the deer round its hind leg and sent it sprauling to the ground.
He licked his chops at the memory of the soft, flavored flesh beneath the tan coat of the deer. These thoughts delayed him from catching wind of the scent which now caused him to halt. He lowered himself to the ground, laying still as a corpse, to see what approached.
Copyright (c) 1999-2000 Abigail Laughlin and the members of the Circle of Stone.