The rowdiness of the Stone Rose tavern was in full swing as the patrons sat around the various tables. Some were singing songs of merriment. Others were quieter. Somber even. Some of the adventurers here were currently riding on a high from a successful journey. Others were dealing with grief in its various stages. The dangers of out in the wilds did not pull any punches.

The barkeep. A large hairy bear of a man was filling up tankards with ale and mead as well as taking coin, when the door of the tavern swung open with a slam as a gaggle of children ran in. Quite a few of them were the Barkeep's children as he was already hollering, but they pretended to be unable to hear him over the din of adventurers and drunks as they made their way to a roaring hearth. The man's eye twitched as he was ignored but only sighed as he saw where they all stopped. He couldn't get away from the bar right now but just wait. He knew they would not be moving for a while anyways.

The young children all ranging from eight to twelve years old had stopped in front of a cloaked man who was drinking whole heartedly from his mug of black coffee. He set it down when he noticed an audience had gathered around him. Not much could be seen of the man's face other than the large bushy beard that fell from the opening of his hood. The children all looked at him with eager expectant eyes. He even noticed more than one adventurer that had gotten quiet around him but seemed to be playing at not paying attention to what was going on.

He chuckled. His voice was gravelly but he spoke with elegance.

“Well children.” He looked at each of them.

“This seems to be a new record for you all at finding me when I come back into town.”

All of the children began to talk at once and the gentlemen threw his hands up shushing them with his gesture.

“Yes. Yes. I know you want a story.” He grinned.

“Well, you are in luck because I have just the tale for you.”

He leaned back in his chair and pulled a long wood pipe from his pocket and pushed a bit of snuff into it. He looked up at the children as he lifted his index finger of his other hand, and a small flame appeared at the end of it. The tiny orange flame danced about his fingertip before he lit his pipe with it. Taking a deep puff, he blew a smoke ring and looked at the children.

“Well. I was recently reminded of a very important fact for you future adventurers. Sometimes things go bad, but there is usually always a silver lining...”

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There was once a large human kingdom that went by the name of Zeiss. They were often plagued by monsters and wandering beasts. Most were sent by their neighboring nation. A kingdom of united creatures. Most that we would recognize as orcs, hobgoblins, ogres, and the like! They were often in skirmishes and great battles as the two kingdoms hated one another. It was one such day that a fearsome ogre general rose up to power. He wielded a literal tree trunk of a mace and wore black plate armor. He amassed a great force and went out to destroy the kingdom of Zeiss.

The king of Zeiss gathered his army and had his son lead it. Not because the king was cowardly, but because the king was old in age and his son. Prince Geoff had been picked by a deity to receive its blessing. Geoff was blessed by the Goddess of Wind. Allowing the man to move with such swiftness it was like he was dancing around the battlefield, and he did not tire out as quickly as a normal man.

The two great armies met on the plains separating the two kingdoms. A massive battle ensured. Everywhere that Geoff went, the enemy was cut down with many not even realizing where death had come from. Yet, on the same token everywhere that the Ogre general went. Men was squashed or launched into the air crashing to the ground. Soon it became very obvious to the two that they needed to be the focus of the other.

The swift swordsmen vs the lumbering brute. Their battle alone waged for several hours. Long after all the humans and other creatures had perished in the aftermath of their fight. While the ogre general could not catch Geoff, Geoff could do little other then make the ogre suffer minor injuries. It was at the end of this fight that Geoff had put on a brave face and had his sword at the ready eyeing down the ogre, that the ogre placed the giant mace upon his shoulder and with his free hand balled into a fist he pounded it on his black breastplate three times.

Geoff was confused momentarily, but as the ogre general turned and marched away, he could do nothing. As Geoff's legs were already threatening to buckle out from under him. He had barely the strength to hold his sword up, while the ogre calmly walked away giving him mercy for the great fight.

The kingdom of Zeiss was spared, but the price was great.

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The Storyteller leaned forward looking at each of the children, who had been quiet for quite some time. Some of the younger ones had excited expressions on their faces, while the older ones looked more thoughtful trying to piece together the implications of the story.

“The world outside respects the strong. It might not be fair, but it is true.” He closed his hazel eyes briefly before opening them again.

“I hope that each of you is able to grow and become powerful in your own ways so that one day you will have stories that can be told of you, by people like me.” The Storyteller grinned.

As the Storyteller sipped from his mug, one of the children in front. A small girl with dirty blonde hair and eager blue eyes spoke up to get his attention. He glanced her way and raised his eyebrows awaiting her to speak as he enjoyed the bitterness of his beverage.

"Can you tell us the story about the Hanging Tree?"

The Storyteller paused from his drink as his eyes seemed to look past the girl as he was deep in thought. There were many stories involving those accused trees, but almost none of them were for young children. After a few seconds recognition flashed in his eyes as he put the mug down looking at the young child who was grinning at home with a smile that had quite a few missing teeth in it.

He cleared his throat. "Are you talking about the Dryad and the Hanging Tree?"

The Storyteller asked the clarifying question. The child nodded her head enthusiastically as did several other children who knew the tale. The old man gave a small sign of relief, as this made him feel a bit better. He had briefly worried he had slipped up in his old age and told them a story they would have been better off not hearing.

He rubbed his calloused hands together as he put his thoughts in order as he began to weave his tale.

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While it is true that the Hanging Trees though rare are a truly dangerous existence, that will snatch up anything that comes underneath their crown to feast upon it and the massive ones that can encompass cities have vines and roots that can extend for miles upon miles. There was once a strange happening.

Something weird.

Something unexpected had happened.

Somehow a malicious Hanging Tree gave birth to a benevolent tree spirit. A dryad. A tall slender woman of oaken skin and emerald green leaves for hair. The Dryad borne of ignorance knew little of the origins of the Hanging Tree and yet it seemed the Hanging Tree had given most of itself completely to the nature spirit. It stopped attacking indiscriminately everything that wandered under its branches. Only taking what the Dryad allowed it to take.

The Dryad found herself sad because everything gave her tree a wide berth, refusing to come anywhere underneath its crown of leaves. As ages passed and the Hanging Tree and the Dryad grew. It was when flecks of autumn were beginning to grow within her leaves that something different occurred. Something quelled the Dryad's loneliness.

The tree that now rivaled a forty-story building in height warned her of approaching figures. She saw them clearly as she could see them through the senses of the tree if she wished. It was a band of about two dozen elvish children. Wearing clothing that was worn and tattered being chased by a group of human men. She had seen smoke on the horizon earlier that day but had paid it little attention because man and elf seldom wandered to deeply into her forest.

Concerned she had started to make her way towards the two groups when one of the slower children were grabbed and she witnessed through the eyes of the tree one of the men break one of the legs of the children that she felt her temper flare and like lightening vines from the tree began to lash out. Snatching the man and another that was close to him and they disappeared up into the leaves of the tree.

One of the men screamed realizing they had come to close to the cursed tree while chasing the children. Not a single human escaped. Some pulled beneath the ground, while others vanished like the first two that were grabbed. The dryad approached the children who were all huddled together on the ground. She kneeled before them and despite their terror and tears her wooden hand reached out and gently grasped the broken leg of the elf and a soothing warm green glow emanated from her hand as the bone reknit itself and became as good as new.

There was a slight issue in the beginning when the Dryad and the elves could not communicate with one another as she knew not their language, but they followed her back to the massive tree. It was true that they were terrified because of the many tales they had heard of the tree. The children had little choice in the matter because their town was now gone. The dryad would eventually learn that their town had been razed by slavers who were looking to take them away.

She taught them how to survive. She taught them how to use nature magic.

In return they named her Alda.

Alda never knew loneliness again. She transformed the massive Hanging Tree into a Tree City as the ages passed. What had started out as twenty-four elves had become thousands, and Alda protected the Elves and they in turn cared for her.

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As he finished his last sentence, the Storyteller grabbed his mug and raised it to his lips before frowning slightly realizing the cup was empty. It was then that the barkeep came up with a fresh pot of coffee and refilled his mug. The older man smiled and was already reaching into his pouch to fish out the man a coin when the barkeep shook his head.

"Dat won't be necessary, your ability to keep these rascals out of trouble is payment enough." He glanced towards two kids in particular. A young boy and his older sister. Who were doing their best not to make eye contact, as it seemed neither of them had forgotten about the slammed door.

The Barkeep gestured away towards the children.

"Away with the lot of you! It'll be dark soon and you all need to be home before the Shadowman comes out!" He waved his fingers in an attempt to make a spooky ooooooooo noise as the children giggled and left the tavern save for his two that ran upstairs.