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Taken aback by the woman's sarcasm, Arielle was slow to conjure an answer where normally her tongue would have flashed out something quick and witty, meant to make the woman laugh. Strange people, she thought to herself. Nice, but strange. Rubbing her palms together, the bard eased the strap of her mandolin case from her shoulder and set it to one side, away from where the sudden heat might warp the wood.

"I...have never heard of the land of Tarsarus. Truly, it must be a fine land to breed brave young women who would dare to travel abroad, like your Ladyship. Especially in troubled lands."

Trying for another smile, she absently turned her hands to warm the backs of them as she thought about how to respond to the request for stories of Aleron. Which tale to tell that would not require the mandolin's strings as backdrop, nor take too long and run into dinner? Perhaps, for now, the old myths mingled with the truth would suffice. In her particular way, she sought the words she would use and melted her voice over them.

"The island of Aleron lies across the waves of the Fyran Sea, a land far distant from this, cloaked by the gentle mists that your sailors call the 'Silver Marker'. There, peace and prosperity hold sway as much as the Court of the Nine. In the heart of the port city Ancar, within the marble walls of the Ivory Palace, they stand vigil against all who would encroach on us, against any who would threaten fair Aleron. But Ancar holds her arms wide to all who would enter with good intent, a free-trade port to rival the greatest nations in the wide world. From the lowest peasant to the highest noble, all are welcome in Ancar, and all held equally responsible under the Council's Law.

"But there is more to Aleron that just the city-capital. Beyond the shinning walls to the West resides the Forest of Whispers," she said, lowering her tone to something that painted mystery in the air, "Where enchantments and magic lie heavy in the air below a canopy built from trees that stretch taller than the height of ten men. It is said that mythic beings abide there, and the adventures you may encounter there plenty, though no one may say for sure; not many as go in ever return..."

Allowing the meaning to hang heavily over the moment, the bard smiled knowingly, and shrugged slowly as though she knew more but would not speak it.

"Who knows what becomes of them? Perhaps they travel north into the Plains, where windswept highgrasses flow from the mountains to the coast. A lonely stretch of land, populated only by animals and the nomad elven tribes. Or perhaps they go nor'easternly, headed into the harsh, jagged peaks of the Vakaran Mountains where only the brave or insance try to traverse the ice and snow. There the ice-wind rages over you, trying to slice you into a thousand pieces, and tears the breath from your lungs with needles of cold."

A slow, meaning-laden shake of the head; a light shudder that would be accepted as genuine. Play the crowd, she told herself. Keep them in thrall. She picked up where she'd left off, tone warming to the next topic.

"But flowing down from those mountains is the River Eila, the main source of water to Aleron's people. Eila, from the Ancient name Eila'anis, meaning "maidens tears". The legends hold that a beautiful maiden fell in love with a soldier when Aleron was a child-nation. But when her beloved fell in battle, the maiden threw herself down in the spot where he died and wept till her tears washed over the land. Her sorrow washed over the land till it became the great river; an everlasting symbol of a love that was, itself, everlasting."

The sadness in Arielle's voice did not need to be pretended. The story touched her, as it always did. Perhaps she did not really believe it's truth, but the emotion in it would forever pluck at her heartstrings. Drawing breath, she smiled slowly at the woman curled up in the armchair, watching as the tale unfolded.

"To the east lie only the Wastelands. Desert sand and rocky soil as far as the eye can see. Hot as hellfire in the day, biting cold in the night. It is not called the Waste for no reason, yet still people live there. A testament, it seems, to the will of Aleron's people to thrive."

The bard laughed suddenly, shaking her head.

"I have been told by the people of this land that I surely come from stubborn stock. Perhaps they are right."

As Barlow listened to the tale, he half closed his eyes, seeing the lands described by the bard take shape in his mind's eye. He felt the magic in the words, and willingly surrendered to it...

Or, he would have, had it not been for one small interruption.

"Pardon me, master Barlow," said Miles softly. His appearance by Barlow's chair was so sudden that it almost looked instantaneous, and there was a slight edge of urgency in his voice. Barlow emerged from the spell of the words in the blink of an eye, although it was clear from the look on his face that it pained him to do so.

"Yes?" he said to the butler, straightening his posture in the chair.

"Sir, I believe master Blake may be in danger," Miles reported, his voice barely a whisper. "A walker has sealed the door behind him and their contest is attracting unwelcome attention."

Barlow nodded. "I understand," he replied and stood. Facing Arielle, he bowed and said said, "Please accept my most sincere apologies, but an urgent matter has arisen that requires my immediate attention. Upon my return, please allow me to ask your pardon once again and beg a retelling of the story." He addressed the other guests with a second bow, said "Please excuse me," and left the room at a brisk pace, heading for the stairs.

Bri's own cheeks reddened under the constant name of Lady. "I'm sorry to interupt with such a subject change," she faultered slightly, unsure how to tell the beautifull bard, "but, I am no lady." she laughed. "I am a visitor as you are, just a more frequent one," Bri blushed again, she moved from her chair and blanket and sat down next to the fire with Arielle."I would love to share a story with you."

"My story takes place in the land of Fayet, home of the dragons. I had fallen through the gateway and into the midst of a traveling group, of coarse people there don't take to kindly to girls falling out of the sky and into there camps." Bri sighed at this and shook her head with a small smile that never seemed to leave her lips, "I was tied up and left to sleep with their gaurd dogs, talk about polite. Anyways, it was nothing bad, they ended up untieing me with the promise of entertainment.

As they traveled through the forest I tagged along, telling them stories of my adventures. I got off easy when they dumped me in a small town, Dube was its name, from Dube I made my own travels north at this point alone. As I traveled north I picked up stories of dragons, much more numerous than any other land I had been too. Two of these dragons caught my attention the one known as Sheherezade the red, a fiery tempered female that loved telling stories and then devouring its listeners; and Ankezegardeitheme the black, the cruelest and the most merciless of all the dragons. I've always been intrigued by these creatures and never had come across one before so I took upon myself to stake out these wonderous animals.

As I passed through one city I decided to gather together a group of my own, I managed to find a mage, twin warriors and a dwarf. A bit rumshackle and beat-up but I grew fond of all four of them. We then set out for the mountains in the east where the red was fortold to lie. Sheherezade was known for being a very active red dragon, not only collecting her own stories but torching and plundering other villages and such, my fear would be that we would come upon her lair and find her gone, that was the least of my problems.

The dwarf lead us through winding tunnels and halls that mazed the mountain side, finally we made it to the dragons keep. I stood speachless as did my companions, the most beautifull thing I have ever seen. The great red was layed sprawled out across endless mounds of gold coins and jewels, I had heard that their hordes drew many thieves, all of which live's ended sadly, but I had never imagined how much nore could I have words that would possibley describe what I saw. I have no idea how long I stood there quite dumbfounded one of the warrior boys knocked me over the head with a book. I would have cried out if not it had been for the mage the covered my mouth and probobly saved our lives. They reminded me of why I was here and so I went about the task of it. I thought up a devious plan of not getting killed but still getting what I want, a conversation.

In the short amount of time I had been on Fayet I had learned plenty enough about dragons. I scrumbled up the piles of gold, quietly and carefully, towards the sleeping form of the dragon. As I knew and suspected the dragon was already awake, just waiting for me to come close enough before raising its head. Again I had to fight back the parlysis that the beautifull lizard caused me.

The red sat elegantly curled up on the gold, its neck arched high into the air and the top of its purple and orange crest brushing the vaulted cieling of the cavern. I bowed instantly remembering my chore, falling against the coins.

"Shehethemondoratratia" I spoke the red's full name with a voice as loud as I could, "the great beautifull red dragon that keeps the east from becoming to lazy or over populated," I stood up from here, my voice growing in confidence as I could see the pridefull smirk that the red had on her scally lips as I recited the flourishing name my companions and I had thought up earlier. "keeper of knowledge and goddess of the silver-tongued art. She who glistens under the light of a thousand year collected gold and she who rivals her cousins and out distances herself by both experience and beauty."

My words had worked for she answered me this, "And what does the small traveler of other worlds want from me?" Her voice was as the gold, it rolled from her fanged maw and glittered with enchanting spell, the surprise of how she knew who I was threw me off but none the less I continued.

"I am just a humble traveler, by the name of Bri, all I seek is to share stories. I would, as one of the art, would very much love to sit here as you retell of your masterfull cunningness in wars passed and of your rivalries with other countries." I bowed again and did not rise but I noticed the small hum the dragon gave off as she contemplated.

"And what, traveler, shall get in return." Dragons were selfish beings that did nothing unless they got somthing out of it.

I was prepared, I drew out from my cloak a ruby broach that I had recieved long ago from another country, another story," bri winked with a grinn, " the broach was the dragons emblem in another place but it still intrigued the lady dragon when I held it up. "It would be a fine addition to your collection, though only a small one, I am sorry for that." I kept my head down as I waited for an answer and praying that I did not feel the firey wrath of upsetting the dragon.

My luck amazes me at times, and a wonder why I am not dead, the dragon answered me, "Very well child, we shall exchange stories, just as you have asked.We sat down together and for hours we did indeed exchange stories, the dragons stunningness never left but I grew accustomed to it as we spoke back and forth. My companions, I later heard, had also sat down and enjoyed the storytelling, amazed that I had not been killed.

Finally the red dragon yawned out, washing warm breath over me and toppling backward. "I have grown hungry and tired, begone." She fell forward with a thud on the coins. "I would eat you and your friends but I trust you won't steal my gold and I enjoyed our little conversation." She spoke as I turned around, many times had a considered stealing at least one coin but fear of the dragon kept me from doing so. I don't go back on my word either so I left empty handed but with a mind full of stories, which I would be very glad to share at another time.

My adventrue was cut short though and I never got to even witness Ankezegardeitheme, I wondered away from our festiveties of the camp and got myself lost, at the next moment I found myself walking up to Barlows door, Miles greeted me in the garden." Bri looked a little saddened at not being able to meet the second dragon but she brightened up with a smile.

Bri's eyes widened as the bard leaned in closer, but a look of acknowledgment passed over her face and she clasped Arielle's shoulder with her other hand. "First, Barlow would never kick someone out as far as I know, don't worry." She said as consolingly as she could.

"Secondly, I was so scared, I would have wet myself if I had had anything to eat or drink," She laughed sheepishly, "that was probobly one of the stupidest things I've ever done, and I've done a hand full of stupid things."

Bri gave her another comforting squeeze, "Then lets leave together and shall seek out your gnome king and have an adventure for ourselves." She winked and tilted her head to the side with a wide grin.

Bri grinned and laughed, it would make a great story she thought, two bards try to cheer up a gnome and get their heads taken off, but who would tell it?

Bri went bright red though when she asked her question. She scratched the back of her head. "Yes, I'm quite a frequenter I suppose. I love it here but I guess thats not really the reason I show up. I have a tendency to fall through holes, openn the wrong doors get chased down the wrong hall. To simply put, " she winced, "I get lost often."

Miles stood by as the conversation progressed. As Bri told her story, he listened, knowing that Barlow would be disappointed to hear that he had missed it.

At a convenient pause in the conversation, he coughed softly to make his presence known and said "Excuse me, sir and madams, but dinner will be ready very soon. If I may direct you to the dining room and take your orders for drinks, the first course will be served shortly."