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Feet Upon the Oldest Track - A Ranger's Escapades

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*The tavern door swings open, and a slender elfin man enters. Leaves skitter across the floor alongside his feet as the wind rushes inside. Green eyes keen, bow slung across his back, so enters Myxamillian of Clan Navaeh.*

Hail, I say! Barkeep, an ale and slice of fresh bread and cheese, please. I have a long journey ahead of me, and it would do to keep up my strength.

*The barkeep shuffles off and returns with a tankard and a plate. Myx slaps down a handful of coins and nods his head in thanks. As the barkeep sweeps up the coins and deposits them in a pouch, Myx glances around at the other patrons. In his face lies equal parts curiosity and caution, but he seems amiable and ready for any conversation.*


Hail to you, warrior of the fair folk! Tell me, have the elves at last decided to return to the 'cano? I admit that I would not blame them if they decided that they needn't help us again. The elves, I know and you know, did their part many years ago and many then departed for fair lands (since the danger had passed).

And now that same danger has returned. Here we are, older in some respects and yet also the same age as we once were, facing the same peril. I have found myself traveling deep into the dungeons which I still remember, pushing forward towards the deeds I know I must fulfill once more; to lay a king to rest once more; to beat back knights of winds; to consign an elemental to the abyss of time where they belong...

But those are heavy thoughts. Let us not speak overmuch of them. Remind me, Myx. There was a game that the elves used to play in the Tavern. Something to do with tricks, or maybe trades? What was it? Or am I imagining this entirely...?

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