“That place is evil,” Talon heard the storyteller say. Talon was a young, skinny boy of sixteen who lived at the very base of a mountain chain called the Dragon’s Tail. It was given its name because of the stories of the dragons that lived, mated, and died in those mountains. Some of the traders the come to their village tell tales of having seen some of these mythical beasts. Talon always loved hearing the stories. They were so amazingly absurd.
Desmond the Brave was the storytellers name to some. To others though, it was just Desmond Nix. Desmond was a wise old man that knew just about everything that there was to know or, so it seemed to Talon. Desmond is always carrying a long wooden staff with a knotted top on it and a small gem on the inside of the knot. He has a white beard that run down the length of his neck and a long gray robe that hangs to his feet.
Desmond was looking up at the mountains as he spoke those words. Many people were gathered around them to hear Desmond and Talon’s famed Tales. A bucket lay at Talons’ feet. “Many have tried to conquer it but perished in its forests and deadly rolling hills. Many have just tried to cross it but alas, they have been claimed as well. Anything that goes into that mountain never comes back. Save a handful of people. Including this youth here” He indicated Talon with a flick of his hand.
That was his cue. “It is true!” he said loudly while stepping on the bucket so that everyone could see and hear him. “I have personally seen from the top of that mountain . . . And been down the other side as well. A long an arduous journey it was, but very well worth it. For through my journeys I encountered many things. Prime among them: Werewolves,” a gasp of fear from the listening children, “And an Elf.” Now another gasp, this one was interested and amazed though. Elves were the most loved fairy tale for the children, and werewolves, the most feared.
“Yes!” he continued, “An elf! Fair folk indeed! This particular elf was not much shorter than myself with beautiful, long, silver hair that went to the middle of her back. Her ears were, of course, pointed and she bore a silk white dress with a matching cloth tied to her hair to keep it back. She had a fine, sleek and somewhat pointed face and she carried a silver dagger that seemed to have a bright blue sapphire set into the pommel.
“She went by the name Auvrea Eplith, which means ‘Blood of the Dragons’ in their tongue.”
A few of the children ‘Oooh’ed at the mention of their second most favorite tale to hear: Dragons. This brought out a chuckle from Desmond.
“I watched her for some time. She was in the middle of a clearing that had not even a hint of tree anywhere except the stump which she sat by. Her eyes were closed and she appeared to be lost in her own mind. The only sign that she was even alive was her steady, slow breathing and four elven words that escaped her lips, ‘Ta Keliid aht shu’ which roughly means, Be Reborn This Tree.
“From sun up, till sun down, she sat and whispered, and from sun up till sun down, I watched. When finally she stirred, she stood and I finally got to see her eyes. They were the most unbelievable green imaginable, better than the very tops of the trees!
I believe that I could have stared at those eyes until the seasons changed, but sadly, she turned away. She was staring at the stump or rather, where the stump was. But now in it’s’ place was a glorious tree. At least twenty men high and five wide. I was focused so intently on her beauty that I hadn’t even noticed a tree grow before my very eyes!
“Now,” Talon began to finish his story. “Some say the magic isn’t real. . .” Another gasp from the children and one more chuckle from the teller, but Talon continued on as if there were no interruption, “But I believe that I witnessed it that day.” Talon’s story finished, he stood and bowed once when a woman- not a girl- shouted -
“How did you learn her name?”
Talon searched for the source of the question but without luck. “After creating it, she spoke to the tree. She said, ‘I am your re-creator, I am Auvrea Eplith.’”
But she called out again, “How do you know what it meant?”
Again Talon looked but again it went in vain. He hesitated before answering her question for he had no answer for it. “I . . . Uh . . . “
Desmond spoke up. “He knew because of me. Do you think that a traveling storyteller with his own library of books has never once come across an Elven translation?”
This answer seemed to satisfy the audience for they began to murmur in agreement. Talon spoke once more, silencing the crowd. “Thank you for listening to out story. We would like to ask you for a donation,” he stepped off of the bucket and flipped it right-side-up. The people in the back began leaving already, not willing to pay for Talon and Desmond’s services. “Only if you wish, of course,” he growled as he noticed them walking off.
A few people came forward and put in one or two gold coins in the bucket. One woman with piercing green eyes put in twenty. Talon was amazed when he saw the woman’s bag flip over and pour gold in. He looked up to say ‘Thank you,’ but she had already left.
He looked up at Desmond to see him staring off into the dispersing crowd. “Desmond? What are you looking at?” he asked him.
He turned to Talon and gave him a quick smile. “Nothing, Talon. Nothing. Who, do you suppose, would be that curious I wonder.”
“Probably someone who saw holes in our story. I wouldn’t brood on it, the story was a complete success.”
“It might’ve been,” Desmond agreed. “Talon? Was that story real?”
“Hmm? Bits and pieces. The clearing was real. The girl was, though she wasn’t an elf. Her description was real. I never will forget those eyes. The night after, I had a dream, that’s where the rest came from.” His thoughts turned back to that night. “Well! What are we going to with all of this gold?” he then asked after coming back to himself.
“Hmm?” Desmond inquired, coming out of his trance as well. Talon stared at him in amazement. ”Oh! Yes, what shall we do with it?” Desmond asked.
“I could do with a drink. There’s a tavern not far from here.”
“That sounds good. I could do with some mead as well,” Desmond said as they started off. “What is this tavern called.”
“The Ogre’s Mug,” Talon replied. “I saw it when we came into the city. I couldn’t see inside but it looked good enough for some simple drinks.”
When they arrived, Talon noticed a sign above the door with a one-eyed ogre holding a mug up to its lips. At this, Talon couldn’t help but laugh. Kael was holding the door open and when Talon passed he asked what he was laughing at. Talon was about to tell him but when he walked inside and saw the people in there he decided not to. “Later,” he whispered.
The inside of the tavern was dark and gloomy. All of the windows had black curtains pulled over them and all of the light in the room came from six separate wax candles. One on each table and one on each end of the bar. When Kael closed the door, which was simple compared to the one of the inn that sat two buildings down the road, it cut out all noise from the village behind them. The sudden intrusion to their brooding silence made everyone in the bar turn and look at the man and boy. Ignoring the glares from six pairs of eyes, the two walked down the middle of the tavern to the bar.
=====================================================

Im gonna update it every now and then too :D
Oh, and if its not supposed to go here tell me and Ill get rid of it...This'll also be under the RP section (but itll go a different way)

It's good. Might be a little more descriptive with the setting. And sometimes you say the instead of then or w/e. Oh and one more thing... you switch from past to present tense and that gets confusing. You said Des was, and then Des is. He either was or is? Which is it? :P

Love <3