Liralli
Junior Member
Elinia spurred her horse forward, occasionally reaching up to push her wild, fiery curls back behind her ears, as she silently cursed herself for leaving behind her favorite hair tie. Scoffing softly at her own vanity and foolishness, she focused her emerald green eyes on the worn, dirt road ahead of her. She knew this was the right way, she had traveled it many times before when making trips to meet her brother at the small hamlet known simply as Crossroads. It had been their favorite gathering place ever since she could remember. As children they had come to buy and sell goods to the local shop for their merchant father, as teens they had come to sneak away with secret crushes, and now, as adults they came simply to spend time with each other.
It had never failed, every twenty days they would meet at the tavern and share a glass of ale as they caught up with each others' lives, only he had not made his last visit and now she knew why. A pigeon had arrived to the kings own aviary in Hallendor, carrying a message made out to her, oddly enough. The small, tight scrawl had been quite difficult to read but the message it relayed was all too clear. Her twin brother, older by no more than two minutes, had been found murdered in his bed three nights past. Galan, the twins' closest companion, had found his body along with a cryptic letter demanding the end of the "mirrored flames". His concern for her well being overwhelming him, he urged her in his letter to flee Hallendor at once and seek refuge in the far off city of Illithae.
Never one to question her beloved friend, she hastily packed what belongings she could easily reach and set off only to find herself here, riding on the back of a stolen horse into the last place she had seen her brother alive. Sighing softly she pulls back on the reigns, slowing the horses speed as she spots the familiar marker she had been looking for. Ahead and to the right stood an ancient oak, its branches twisting their gnarled limbs high above the surrounding trees. This was the sacred oak, the tree that crossroads had grown its own roots around. Rumor had it that if one prayed beneath it on a full moon, your wish would be granted before the next full moon came to rise. These rumors had drawn people from all over the kingdoms and slowly but surely, the hamlet had sprung up around it, as people created businesses to cater to the flow of traffic. It was here that she was destined to stop for the evening. Crossroads was not big by any means, consisting mainly of a blacksmith, general store, a tavern that functioned as a stables and inn as well, and a few ramshackle farms clustered around the tall and ancient oak tree.
The brown mare commonly known as "Apple" due to her love of the round, red fruit, continued forward drawing ever closer to the small hamlet. Elinia could feel herself beginning to relax as the oh so familiar tavern that she had spent so much time with her brother in came into view. The building was not particularly big nor was it overly small, just right for a cozy night with a small group of good friends. It's once brown, weathered sides had never seen a bit of paint and now stood a dulled out grey against the sky. She chuckled to herself as she recalled the pet name her brother had given the place, "The Moody Minstrel". He had made the name out of jest at the blustery barkeep Ivan, who had a tendency to burst out in song when he had a bit too much of his own wares and oddly enough Ivan had taken a liking to it.
Pulling the horse to a stop, she carefully dismounts and stretches her sore muscles, shaking her head at the memory. There would be no smiling face waiting to greet her this time. He was gone for good and if she was not careful she could very well be next. Elinia walks the horse to the stable and hands the reigns over to the little brown haired boy, David, who had been working there for the last three years. Not bothering to stop for a chat she tosses him a small, golden coin and walks away, heading straight for the door. She could already taste the warm earthy ale, the place was known for sliding down her throat.
The door creaks loudly as she opens and then shuts it behind her, blinking a few times to adjust to the bright and cheerful room. One thing that could certainly be said about Ivan, was that he kept a clean and well maintained place. It might not look like much from the outside but once through the door, any weary traveler was met with spotless floors and heavy hardwood furniture polished to a bright shine. Directly in front of the door was a large stone fireplace that always sporting a bright and cheerful fire, several soft leather chairs circling it for those who care to sit and gossip a bit. On the right, was a narrow but sturdy staircase that lead upstairs to the ten rooms the inn boasted and on the left was a well polished mahogany bar, stocked with almost any liquor one could imagine. Tall sturdy stools, made of local oak lined the front of the bar and a tall, round, yet muscular man stood behind it. Tables lay scattered across the rest of the room in what could only be called organized chaos.
It never ceased to amaze her how out of place "The Moody Minstrel" seemed in the small hamlet, even though she had come here almost every month for most of her life. Removing her brown riding cloak she tosses it over her arm and dusts off her loose fitting, green blouse and brown, leather riding breeches. Standing at 5'6" she wasn't exactly tall but she wasn't short either. Her lithe frame, well toned from years of tracking down and carrying home her prey. Shooting Ivan a brilliant smile she moves over to the bar and orders her normal tankard of ale in a soft yet refined tone.
It had never failed, every twenty days they would meet at the tavern and share a glass of ale as they caught up with each others' lives, only he had not made his last visit and now she knew why. A pigeon had arrived to the kings own aviary in Hallendor, carrying a message made out to her, oddly enough. The small, tight scrawl had been quite difficult to read but the message it relayed was all too clear. Her twin brother, older by no more than two minutes, had been found murdered in his bed three nights past. Galan, the twins' closest companion, had found his body along with a cryptic letter demanding the end of the "mirrored flames". His concern for her well being overwhelming him, he urged her in his letter to flee Hallendor at once and seek refuge in the far off city of Illithae.
Never one to question her beloved friend, she hastily packed what belongings she could easily reach and set off only to find herself here, riding on the back of a stolen horse into the last place she had seen her brother alive. Sighing softly she pulls back on the reigns, slowing the horses speed as she spots the familiar marker she had been looking for. Ahead and to the right stood an ancient oak, its branches twisting their gnarled limbs high above the surrounding trees. This was the sacred oak, the tree that crossroads had grown its own roots around. Rumor had it that if one prayed beneath it on a full moon, your wish would be granted before the next full moon came to rise. These rumors had drawn people from all over the kingdoms and slowly but surely, the hamlet had sprung up around it, as people created businesses to cater to the flow of traffic. It was here that she was destined to stop for the evening. Crossroads was not big by any means, consisting mainly of a blacksmith, general store, a tavern that functioned as a stables and inn as well, and a few ramshackle farms clustered around the tall and ancient oak tree.
The brown mare commonly known as "Apple" due to her love of the round, red fruit, continued forward drawing ever closer to the small hamlet. Elinia could feel herself beginning to relax as the oh so familiar tavern that she had spent so much time with her brother in came into view. The building was not particularly big nor was it overly small, just right for a cozy night with a small group of good friends. It's once brown, weathered sides had never seen a bit of paint and now stood a dulled out grey against the sky. She chuckled to herself as she recalled the pet name her brother had given the place, "The Moody Minstrel". He had made the name out of jest at the blustery barkeep Ivan, who had a tendency to burst out in song when he had a bit too much of his own wares and oddly enough Ivan had taken a liking to it.
Pulling the horse to a stop, she carefully dismounts and stretches her sore muscles, shaking her head at the memory. There would be no smiling face waiting to greet her this time. He was gone for good and if she was not careful she could very well be next. Elinia walks the horse to the stable and hands the reigns over to the little brown haired boy, David, who had been working there for the last three years. Not bothering to stop for a chat she tosses him a small, golden coin and walks away, heading straight for the door. She could already taste the warm earthy ale, the place was known for sliding down her throat.
The door creaks loudly as she opens and then shuts it behind her, blinking a few times to adjust to the bright and cheerful room. One thing that could certainly be said about Ivan, was that he kept a clean and well maintained place. It might not look like much from the outside but once through the door, any weary traveler was met with spotless floors and heavy hardwood furniture polished to a bright shine. Directly in front of the door was a large stone fireplace that always sporting a bright and cheerful fire, several soft leather chairs circling it for those who care to sit and gossip a bit. On the right, was a narrow but sturdy staircase that lead upstairs to the ten rooms the inn boasted and on the left was a well polished mahogany bar, stocked with almost any liquor one could imagine. Tall sturdy stools, made of local oak lined the front of the bar and a tall, round, yet muscular man stood behind it. Tables lay scattered across the rest of the room in what could only be called organized chaos.
It never ceased to amaze her how out of place "The Moody Minstrel" seemed in the small hamlet, even though she had come here almost every month for most of her life. Removing her brown riding cloak she tosses it over her arm and dusts off her loose fitting, green blouse and brown, leather riding breeches. Standing at 5'6" she wasn't exactly tall but she wasn't short either. Her lithe frame, well toned from years of tracking down and carrying home her prey. Shooting Ivan a brilliant smile she moves over to the bar and orders her normal tankard of ale in a soft yet refined tone.
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