Leth Deriel Council Moved to Darkstone
Leth Deriel, Zoluren: 313 Skullcleaver 361 The moon light sparkles through the colored windows of The Wren’s Nest Tavern as Baresh pours a lone elven man a glass of his finest wine. The elf grins at the tavern keeper and hiccups. He nods his head in appreciation and guzzles more alcohol.
Setting his now empty glass down, the elf chuckles to himself and comments, “I suppose ya’ll be wanting me ta tell ya w’at is on me mind.”
Baresh smiles and lets the elf ramble on.
“I just got back from Leth Deriel… ya know which city I’m refer’in ta? Good. Lesse. Well, as I’m sure ya already know, the Prince of Zoluren…. t’at tricky Sirolarn… has just moved the town council ta the fair city of Dirge,” the elf chortles at his sarcasm, “and now he is ‘spects ’em ta make that dirt covered place a palace. ”
Baresh laughs merrily and slaps the elf on the shoulder. “Now don’t be making fun of Darkstone, lad. I have relatives that live up that way.”
The elf laughs with Baresh and continues by saying, “Ah, I’m sorry, man. I shouldna be so hard on the city. Besides, I am sure the Leth Deriel Council…errr…. I mean the Darkstone Council…. I am sure they will bring the city back ta its full glory and dignity. ‘Spect change, Baresh. Dirge will be fine once more.”
The elf stands up and leans onto the edge of the bar, trying to keep his balance.
“I suppose it’s time for me ta leave ya. I met a fine bardic lass by the name of Seraana just ‘fore I walked in here. She says she’s going ta take me ta the Ranger Guild…. and.. ‘show me the tree house.'”
Baresh releases a river of laughter and slaps his thigh. Winking at the elven man, he whispers in his ear , “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”
The elf chuckles and replies, “T’at is not say’in much.”